Pirate Dreams

 

------------------ 

The fate of Hook

------------------ 

The belly of the croc was cold as a mermaid's embrace and as stifling as a coffin. The steady tick tock of the clock digging into his ribs beat the same tune as the steady whump thump of the beast's great heart. His hair was plastered over his face, wet curls tickling his nose, but he ignored it, too lost in his misery as he waited. Waited for the end.

Alone.

Unloved.

Was it his fault that he had fallen for the boy who would never grow up? He was a vile man, he admitted it freely, but had never thought himself so vile as to molest a boy so young. So he had settled for what he felt comfortable with. Playing the boy's pirate games, playing the villain that could never quite get it right.

Not that it had been all that obvious to him. His motives were as shadowed and sly as he was, and it hadn't become clear until just moments ago, as he desperately tried to stay in the air, avoiding the gaping maw of the croc. Pan looking on with that infuriating smirk on deliciously full lips, mouthing those dreaded words.

Alone.

Unloved.

Then the realization had come crashing into him, as he desperately searched for some happy thought to combat those wretched words, that all his happy thoughts centered on that blasted boy. Loneliness had never bothered him before but now he realized that the lack of love did. The lack of love from the boy he had wasted years pining for in his own twisted way.

The boy had chosen. Naturally it hadn't been him, he doubted Pan had even realized he had been in the running. No, of course it had been that girl. That Wendy. And he truly didn't begrudge Pan that, after all Wendy was his age, with enticingly big eyes and kissable lips. She was so much more than the washed up pervert of a pirate that he had become. So he gave up. Taking one last look at that ethereally beautiful face before plummeting to his eventual death.

Alone.

Unloved.

At least that epiphany had cleared up many of the questions he'd had for himself, such as why he could never seem to kill the boy. There had been plenty of chances, hundreds upon hundreds of close calls. After all Pan hadn't always been as good as he was now at swordplay, Hook had taught him over the years. Every encounter slowly becominge ane and more complex as Hook introduced new maneuvers, adding to the boy's repertoire. Yes, he had plenty of chances.

Chances like the one at the Black Castle, with the boy pinned beneath hook and blade and body, seconds from bleeding that bright life away on the cold rocks. Hook's heart had almost burst with excitement and anticipation that he tried desperately to convince himself was because of the impending death of his nemesis not his nearness. And every single time he came that close to ending it all, something would happen, some small thing. He would hear that ominous ticking of a clock, or Pan's tagalongs would attack, or a small fairy would yank at his hair and make rude gestures at him. Silly, stupid distractions that should never have prevented him from reaching his goal.

Never once did he realize it was the much more daunting distraction called love that managed to stay his blade every time.

Alone.

Unloved.

Love that would never be returned.

Alone.

Unloved.

So he had resigned himself to his fate. Alone and unloved to the end. Laying in the belly of the blasted animal that had taken his hand once long ago, eyes closed. Waiting for it to end.

Suddenly he was tossed to one side, then to the other, the slick flesh enclosing him roiling and shuddering. With a shocked cry he tried to steady himself, one hand splayed against the beast's guts, his hook sinking deep into tender unprotected innards. The beast's roar rose up all around him, deafening. And with a great heave he was flung back out of the maw, great vicious teeth scraping him as he went past, onto an empty strand of beach. He stared at the croc, eyes wide, panting for breath. The croc stared back, and then seemed to wrinkle his nose before turning to shove himself back into the water.

Hook stared at the water, where the only sign of the croc was a receding line of ripples marring the surface and the fading tick tock of that blasted clock. It was some time before he moved, staggering to his feet, wondering what to do with himself now after he had been so set on dying.

-------------------------- 

The vile demise of Pan

-------------------------- 

His fate had been sealed the moment Wendy called his name, behind her his Lost Boys celebrated their return to a life of growing and parents and rules and…love. Her voice had been full of so many promises, so many things he hadn't understood at that time.

He had only known that it made his chest ache deliciously, and the thought of return to his little paradise without his friends, or his best enemy…or his Wendy made him feel cold. As cold as he had felt bleeding on the deck of The Jolly Roger, with Hook saying those despicable, horrid things.

With that sort of choice laid before him how could he not choose to stay?

If he had only realized what that would mean for him. His name lost. Pan becoming Applegate after the adoption papers his new family filed went through. His freedom lost. The ability to fly seeping away over time taking with it his chance to leave this place. His life lost. Locked into never-ending monotony.

He had been sent to school, and it had passed in a blur of rules he refused to follow and punishments that left his knuckles and rear stinging. The only bright spot in his life had been as it was now, the brief visits to the Darling's, where Wendy would smile so sweetly and blush when he stole a kiss from her in her parent's living room.

Wendy. He stayed for her, and now that he no longer had the choice to return to Neverland, she was why he never regretted his decision to stay here. Not even when his knuckles stung for sleeping in class through another boring lecture on arithmetic.

Now he was beyond school, and memories of Neverland were nothing more than wisps of fantasy. Fantasy that only showed itself as the presence of a tall dark man with intense blue eyes in his dreams. A disdainful smirk framed by long curly brown hair that tumbled down over a broad smooth chest. He woke always gasping for breath with another set of sheets needing to be laundered.

Those dreams were coming less and less frequent, replaced now with vague images of Wendy in various states of undress lying beneath him. These dreams were never quite as satisfying as the others but were much more comfortable to his waking self. Because the fact was, no matter what his subconscious seemed to think, he wanted Wendy and only Wendy. Not some faceless nameless man.

He knew he wanted her; he had wanted her before he even knew what he wanted from her. That was why he was working himself sick at the bank that had hired him on Mr. Darling's recommendation. So he could earn enough money to be worthy of asking Mr. Darling for Wendy's hand in marriage.

It was taking so long to get promoted though, his boss was well aware that he was adopted and that seemed to be reason enough for Peter to watch the position he was striving for get taken again and again by other men with better pedigrees and less knowledge. And now he was growing more and more desperate, watching the dream of Wendy fade from his grasp. Because the more entrenched he was in papers and deadlines and balanced columns of numbers all marching towards the goal of getting promoted so he could marry the woman that he loved, the further Wendy slipped away from him.

She loved the carefree boy he had been, but that boy could never marry Wendy Darling, so he was leaving that boy behind. Moving on towards becoming a man that could. If he could just get that promotion.

He had thought that was what she wanted. But he was now beginning to realize how wrong he was. She had grown into a Lady who wanted nothing more than adventure and high times, trips to far off countries. She wanted to ride through the desolate lands of Africa on the back of an elephant, to sail the high seas in gleaming white cruise ships to see the wilds of America, meander through walls lined with the finest art in the world in the museums of France. Only a rich man could provide anything of the sort, and even with a promotion Peter was looking at a life of penny pinching.

That was why Wendy was becoming so enamored with a young Mister Delacroix, a Frenchman she had met at one of her father's parties who had it all. Looks, charm….scads of money. He was already traveling the world and more than willing to take a brand new Mrs. Delacroix with him.

Wendy always reassured him that he was the only man for her, but he could see in her eyes how much she wished to be that Mrs. Delacroix, how much she wanted to see an elephant. He wished he could be the one to take her.

When he got off of work for the day he took the long route to the little apartment he shared with a couple of friends he had met in school. The long route took him past the Darling's. In the past Wendy would wait for him to pass by her window and then she would sneak out to walk the chill winter streets with him. The last time they had strolled along the streets, shoulders brushing in the darkness, had been more than a month ago. He had a feeling she might never appear in her window again, waving to him with that sweet smile on her face.

Peter couldn't help but stop now, and stare up at that dark window. Snow fell all around him, his fingers and toes and the tip of his nose went numb before he finally gave up, trudging on to his narrow lumpy bed in his corner of the one room efficiency.

--------------------------------------- 

Hook has a wicked wonderful idea

--------------------------------------- 

The Jolly Roger was long gone; every time he attempted to discover its ultimate demise all he got for his trouble was snickering fairies. He had made enemies of most of the denizens of the island, they were all under an uneasy understanding that if they left him alone he would be more miserable than he would be if they were to kill him. Which meant most days were spent in silence except for the squeaked insults of a certain fairy.

Tinkerbell had taken to following him about making a nuisance of herself. Apparently she missed Pan almost as much as he did and in the boy's absence the closest they could get to him was each other. Pan's worst enemy and his best friend.

It was unbearable on this island without Pan. It was boring. Before if he wasn't kept entertained by his ship and crew he alwaalways guaranteed a visit from Pan at some point, childish insults, crossed swords, that beautiful smirking face laughing at him. Now he was left with tattered clothes that were ready to fall to pieces and a slightly used fairy that every once in awhile broke down enough to sit on his shoulder and sigh miserably with him over how much they both missed the boy.

It was bloody cold as well. The island was in mourning for the boy as much as he was. Snow fell constantly and the sky never lightened from steel gray. Until things changed. It didn't happen all at once, but over time the sky lightened, turned blue again, the snows slowed, melted…and eventually Hook awoke to a day as bright as it ever was without Pan, only the slightest of chills to the breeze. But there was no Pan to accompany the beautiful morning.

The island was forgetting Pan.

But Hook couldn't. And neither could Tink.

More time passed, with the chill ever present in the air as Neverland slowly bloomed around them, creeping back to its former glory. And one morning even the chill was gone and the strange pair awoke to boyish laughter across the island.

With a startled glance and a frantic rustle of leaves they were up and dashing through trees and vines, over the occasional stream, through the clearing that still held the hut Pan and his Lost Boys made once upon a time for Wendy. They broke through the trees, finding themselves on the beach, staring at a boy doing wild loop de loops and spirals in the air.

His hair was a wild shock of red, and when he came to hover in front of them Hook could see a smattering of freckles across the open young face. The island had found a new Pan.

He came down, landing lightly on the sand in front of them, an infectious grin on his face, "Hello! I'm John Malanno, what's your name?"

Hook ignored the dirty hand thrust at him; it didn't seem to phase the boy any, "My name is Hook, and that is all you need to know." He couldn't bring himself to give his full name as he would any other time because it would be hard not to use his old title captain. He wasn't a captain anymore; that required a ship.

"Are you a pirate?"

Hook eyed him, balancing the truth against the fact that he wanted to cross swords with no one but Pan. "No."

The redhead looked disappointed in the extreme, "I had hoped there'd be piratehat hat island doesn't have pirates?" And then the child pouted of all things, sitting crosslegged in the air like some infantile genie pouting at nothing.

Hook rolled his eyes and turned to walk away, Tink a dejected bit of light spilling dust all over his rather tattered coat. The boy followed.

"Are you _sure_ you're not a pirate? You look like one." A pause, "A worn out one...but still a pirate! You have the hat!"

Hook considered showing the brat his hook as well just before it ripped into his guts, but he held back, "If I were a pirate I'd have a ship now wouldn't I?"

"That just means you have it hidden somewhere!" The boy crowed, doing a dizzying loop around him.

Whirling, he caught the brat in the intimidating gaze that cowed his crew to submission, and snapped with all his irritation and anger at Pan behind it, "I am _Not_ a blasted pirate you imbecile. Now go bother some other poor soul and leave me be."

With a huff and a hurt expression he was unsuccessfully trying to hide, the brat stuck his tongue out at him and shot up into the sky out of sight.

Hook stormed through the forest, his glare so ferocious the undergrowth seemed to part to escape his crushing bootheels. The fairy stayed despondent, not even bothering to pick at the seam of his coat, something she seemed fond of doing as it forced him to haphazardly sew the sleeve back in place later. Usually while she sat nearby and laughed herself sick.

"We have to get Pan back." He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until he saw the fairy fluttering in front of his nose, the most energetic he had seen her since the boy had left. She was doing a little dance of joy before his eyes that for some incomprehensible reason ended with much grabbing of crotches and spitting to the side. Fairies. Bizzare little creatures.

"I take it you agree."

She nodded so hard he thought her head would fall off. If he had only known she'd be this agreeable he would have suggested this sooner and maybe they wouldn't have had to suffer through a never ending winter and no boy.

"Good. You'll lead me there and I'll fetch him back."

She stilled a moment, then bopped him on the nose with one tiny fist, causing him to rear back in surprise even though he barely felt it, "_What_?"

Tinkerbell shook her fist at him then feverishly mimed him sneaking up on…probably Pan…and running him through. For a moment Hook contemplated doing just that, a fitting revenge for abandoning all of them for that girl. Then he shook the idea from his head.

"What good would that do? Then I would be stuck forever in this intolerable situation with no way out. I want Pan back as much as you." For many varied reasons, which he would never speak of, she didn't need to know about the fantasies that haunted his dreams. He looked away, uncomfortable with what he was about to admit, even though it wasn't nearly the worst reason he had, "It's boring without him."

She stayed hovering for an uncomfortably long time before slowly rising up above his head, and with a shimmy the precious dust drifted down to land on his skin, his clothes, his hat. That wonderful lightness invaded him and with a yell and a thought he lifted into the air, pausing only long enough to grab the fairy before shooting into the sky.

Comments:

Next part will be a bit of nookie, I will work my way into the rating eventually. Trust me on that.