A/N: This fic is based on the cartoon “Fox’s Peter Pan and the Pirates”, and in this chapter I make specific references to two of the episodes. For those of you who are curious, I have two links at the end of the fic that will give you more information.
Chapter 23 - Remembrance
Hook felt Peter stiffen in his arms, her fingers clenching about his arm desperately as her head fell back against his chest. “Kitten?” he called worriedly, but she didn’t respond. Before them the seeing-wall darkened to black, flickering with occasional splashes of color that came and went too quickly to be truly seen. Whispers of sound accompanied these flashes, but they were too faint to be understood.
“It’s begun,” Gloriana told him, her voice tight with anger and anxiety. “Now that her remembrance has been initiated, it cannot be stopped until it’s done. She’ll remain animate throughout this, and if the memory is disturbing she may move or cry out. It would be safer for you to lower your weapon and hold her securely; I’m sure neither of us wishes to see her throat cut because she twitched.”
Warily, Hook did as she suggested, lowering his hook to wrap both arms securely about her middle. He glanced over at the monarchs, “What about him?” he asked, nodding towards Oberon. The fairy king stood rigid, his eyes closed and his hands fisted at his sides, and he seemed unaware of anything going on around him.
“He’ll guide Peter,” Gloriana explained, her worry plainly stamped on her face. “He’s speaking to her, in her mind, and he’ll help her follow the path of her memories. Remembering is achieved easiest with association. One event leads to another, or some detail will remind you of an earlier event. He’ll try to lead her with that, to keep her remembrance calm and controlled.”
“And if he can’t?” Hook wondered aloud, looking down at Peter.
“The memories could spin out of control, and the memory spells on her mind could collapse. The shock of that alone could drive her mad or kill her. It wouldn’t be quite so dangerous if it weren’t for the power of the collar. It’s our only way into her mind, but it’s an unstable magic to use on a human.”
“And yet you put it on a defenseless child,” Hook’s voice dripped with disdain. Tenderly but possessively, he smoothed Peter’s hair, brushing a few stray curls away from the side of her face, exposing her ear and neck. “It would be better for her if she leaves this place with me. I hold no love for children, much less this one, but I’d never torture her in that manner.”
“Torture,” Peter mumbled, and the seeing-wall flared to life. Gloriana and Hook both startled at the flash of light, and they looked towards the wall to see the colors coalesce into forms. The scene showed the inside of Hook’s cabin, looking almost exactly as it did now. Hook was standing over a desk, grinning evilly as he used a cloth to rub the ink off of a map. Peter Pan stood behind him, dressed like a boy as she had been before her gender was discovered. Her features were a mask of agony, her body swaying in time to the man’s vicious swipes, and she fell to her hands and knees with a cry.
“Hurts,” the real Peter gasped, trembling in Hook’s arms.
Hook remembered this incident clearly, it being one of the few times he’d had Pan in his grasp and so very nearly succeeded in killing the brat. His men had stolen the Neverscroll [1] and he’d discovered its very intimate connection to Peter. Make changes to the map and Neverland changed; erase the map and destroy Neverland. And Peter Pan felt every single change made to the island as if it had happened to her own body. When Peter and her little friends had come for the map, it had been simple to trick the brat into surrendering. For Hook, it really had been much more satisfying to erase Neverland one agonizing inch at a time when he could see that agony expressed in Peter’s cries. He watched now, fascinated, as he got to see that agony once more.
“I expected more out of you, Hook,” Pan gasped, “I thought that… at the end… you would at least show good form.
Hook turned to face Peter, wincing at the accusation. His momentary chagrin turned to anger, though, and he growled. “Good… form? Oh, but I suppose that to lop off a man’s hand and feed it to a croc is quite the done thing by your book.” Enraged and once again justified in his actions, Hook began erasing the map with a vengeance.
“So you’d never torture her,” Gloriana spat in disgust. “I wonder what you do consider torture.”
Peter continued to shake, reliving the memory. “Stop, please,” she moaned, “hurts… please it hurts!”
“Hush, Kitten,” the man murmured, running his fingers through her hair and along her neck in an effort to soothe her. It seemed to work; the image in the seeing-wall disappeared and she calmed down once more. When the girl was settled, he glanced up at the fairy queen. “I consider amputating my hand to be torture. Forcing me to live out my life with that loss, daily reminded of its absence, is torture. Did you know I can still feel it? I wake in the night, my missing hand cramping, itching and burning, and I can do nothing to alleviate the agony. That I consider to be torture. And this girl, the one that maimed me so horribly, came daily to mock me.” He felt his anger rise and he welcomed it. His anger fueled his desire for vengeance, and it fueled his need to posses and tame the one that hurt him. “I endured her taunts and pranks, all the while living in fear of a saurian psychopath that hunts me, desiring to consume the rest of me. That is true, never-ending torture. For the harm she’s done me, she deserved to suffer. She deserves to die, but I’ll let her live if she does it on my terms.”
He took a deep breath, banking his anger before it could rage out of control. He often did things he regretted when he was angry, and too much was at stake now to let that happen. Gloriana didn’t seem to have a response for his small rant, so he smiled down at the girl. He could see her profile, her head tilted as it leaned against his chest, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “So, my dear, do you remember cutting off my hand? Or did your pixie wipe away that pleasant memory, too?”
“Hand…” Peter whispered, and she began struggling in his grip. “No! Hook! Blood… too much… Nibs!” The seeing-wall flared to life again, revealing a scene that Hook only truly remembered in his nightmares. [2]
Peter stood on the deck, her face and clothes spotted with blood. She held a large sword – the Captain’s own – tightly in both hands, its blade wet with blood. Her eyes were wide with panic and rage, staring at Hook as he knelt on the deck. The man was screaming, clutching at his arm as his heart’s blood pumped from the stump. His severed hand lay between them, the fingers seeming to point at the girl in accusation.
“Murderer!” Peter screamed again, “You killed my friends! I hate you!” She glanced down at the hand and a shudder of revulsion went thorough her. She cast the sword far away from her, sickened. “Nibs… Tootles… You’ll join them a piece at a time!” Mad with grief, she picked up the hand, still in its glove, and raced for the ship’s railing where she’d last seen her friends.
“No,” Hook gasped, trying to regain his feet. He fell, weak from shock and blood-lack. His men crowded around him, hurriedly trying to staunch the bleeding.
Peter glared down at the croc, hating it as much as she hated these grown-ups that had shattered her heart. “I hope you choke on it!” she screamed, hurling the hand into the reptile’s gaping jaws.
“Peter!” a boy called and the girl looked up in surprise. Nibs, Tootles, and Twins hovered there, looking sick and horrified but alive and unharmed.
“Nibs…” Peter whispered in disbelief, her gaze turning to look back at the one that called himself Hook. The man lay on the deck, unconscious, and the red blood that covered him contrasted harshly with the deadly pallor of his skin. The other men were shouting, running about in their efforts to save him.
“Tink saved us,” Tootles said quietly, “just before the croc could get us.”
Peter turned almost as white as Hook and her hands flew to her mouth in horror. “I’m sorry,” she moaned, but then her eyes were drawn to her hands and to the blood splattered upon them. She screamed, backing away from the pirates. Slowly the scene faded as she fainted, falling to the deck and only dimly aware of Nibs catching her.
“Help him,” Peter sobbed, “blood… hurt… I’m sorry!”
Hook sat very still, afraid to move or to speak. His emotions were in a turmoil and he honestly didn’t know what would happen if he tried to do anything. He was just as likely to kill the girl in his grip as he was to begin weeping and tell her that he forgave her. Seeing that painful day replayed had brought back so much hate, anger, and grief, and he wanted to kill Peter now more than ever. He needed her blood, to exact justice for what she’d done to him. But he also couldn’t honestly say that he hadn’t had it coming to him that day. She’d thought her friends had been cruelly murdered and she’d acted in self-defense and grief. While she’d wept for her friends, he’d laughed and tried to kill her too, goading her into the fight that had cost him his hand.
He’d thought she’d reveled in her victory. He’d thought she’d mocked him and tossed his hand to the croc as a lark. He didn’t remember her reactions, having been too far gone in pain to really notice much of anything. To hear her tell the story later, she’d done it all for fun and was quite proud of her achievement. But now he’d seen what she really remembered from that day, and he could hear her crying at the memory, begging for someone to help him. He hadn’t realized the memory was so traumatic for her.
“Please,” Peter moaned, “I’m sorry…”
“It’s over, Kitten,” Hook said at last, his better side winning out. “I’m alive and well, it’s over.” He looked up at Gloriana and smiled thinly. “You can make it up to me when we leave Neverland. You have your whole life to atone for what you’ve done.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to keep her from you,” Gloriana swore.
“And I’ll see her dead before you do,” Hook retorted.
“Silence!” Oberon hissed, his eyes squeezed shut and his features contorted in pain. “I can’t… direct her if… you distract her thoughts. Be silent!”
Hook was about to argue, but Peter abruptly grew calm again in his arms. He remembered how dangerous this magic was supposed to be and closed his mouth, deciding to let Oberon run the show. If I keep her distracted, how will she remember her guilt? If I want her, I have to let him dig up the proof to condemn her. He smiled again, looking at Gloriana with haughty disdain. The fairy queen glared back with smoldering anger, but she too heeded Oberon’s order and remained silent. Several long, quiet moments passed before the seeing-wall once more flared to life.
Peter lay on the fur blankets, her body shuddering in pain. A large Indian kneeled over her, cutting her shirt off carefully, mindful of the arrow protruding from her stomach. Tinker Bell hovered nearby, flitting worriedly. A young Indian boy, seemingly the same age as Peter, knelt nearby, grinding herbs into a powder.
“I’m sorry, Father,” the boy said, his head bowed over the grinding bowl in shame. “I didn’t know he was in the trees, I heard a rustle and thought it was a bird. I didn’t mean to shoot him.”
The shaman finished cutting Peter’s shirt open and pulled the cloth away from arrow. “I care not for your apologies or your excuses, Little Panther,” he grunted, examining the wound. “You can make them to the Pan when she has recovered.”
Peter’s eyes flew open at the shaman’s words, and her eyes flickered towards Tink. The fairy paused in her fluttering as she registered the Indian’s words. “She?” Tink repeated. “You’re mistaken, Chief Bear, the Pan is named Peter, and is a male child.”
Chief Bear looked up at the pixie, frowning. “This is a girl-child. Surely your kind knows the difference?” He shook his head, “It does not matter, she is injured and her gender has nothing to do with the healing she needs.”
“No,” Peter moaned in Hook’s arms, “don’t tell on me. Won’t go back… won’t let you send me back…”
Without warning, Peter reached for the shaman’s belt and snatched the dagger he wore at his side. She brought it up to her own throat, glaring at him with pain-filled eyes. “How’d… you know?” she gasped, her movements aggravating her injury.
“What are you doing?” Tink squeaked in alarm. She tried to fly to the child, but Peter pressed the tip of the dagger harder to her throat. The fairy backed off, confused and frightened. “Peter?”
“Promise you won’t tell!” Peter demanded, trying to sit up and inch away from the two humans beside her. “I won’t… I won’t go back! If you tell they won’t want me…” she gasped, the arrow in her belly digging into her flesh as she tried to move, and the wound began bleeding even more. “I can be a boy… why does it matter? I’ll be their godson. I can’t go back… I’ll die first. Promise you won’t tell!”
“You are hurting yourself, little one,” the shaman said gently. He didn’t move towards her, knowing that she’d panic and do herself worse damage. Panther also sat still, shocked into motionless by the sudden turn of events. “I promise I will not tell your secret, Peter Pan. To everyone else in my village, you shall always be a boy. Neither Little Panther nor I will reveal your true gender to anyone else. Please, lie back and give me the blade so that I can help you.”
“Tink?” Peter gasped, looking at the pixie pleadingly. “Promise you won’t tell?”
“Peter, what have you done?” Tinkerbell whispered. “You are a boy, right? Tell me you’re really a boy! Tell me you didn’t lie to me.”
Peter shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking as tears fell from her eyes. “I pretended… boys are better, safer… I didn’t know at first, that you only wanted boys.” She drew a breath, fighting down the pain, “By time I realized it was boys only… I didn’t want to go back so I didn’t tell. Rather die than go back. Please, Tink, promise!”
“Pots and pans, Peter!” Tink exclaimed, “You’re talking about high treason! We’ll be punished if we’re found out, we could be killed!”
“Promise your Pan that you will keep her secret safe,” Chief Bear advised the pixie. “She will die if you do not. Her wound is serious and must be tended to now. Is it so terrible for your Pan to be female? Is it worth her life?”
Tinkerbell looked at Peter, seeing the blood running down her stomach. But it was the wild, desperate gleam in the girl’s eye that seemed to decide her. “I promise, Peter, I won’t tell. And I’ll do everything in my power to protect your secret. Please, put the knife down.”
Peter sighed, slumping down into the furs. She lay the dagger aside and closed her eyes tightly. “This secret will not keep for long,” the shaman said, wrapping his hand about the arrow-shaft. “I must pull it free, Peter,” he added softly, briefly laying his hand on the girl’s brow. “The arrow lies too close to your spine, and I dare not push it through.” Peter nodded without opening her eyes. With one smooth jerk, Chief Bear pulled the shaft from her stomach, and Peter screamed at the pain.
Peter jerked, startling Hook so badly he nearly dropped the girl. She gave a cry that echoed the one the memory made, and then slumped against the man, moaning softly. The seeing-wall dimmed, indicating the memory was over. Oberon slowly sank to his knees, but his face remained furrowed with concentration.
“I believe that, as they say, is that,” Hook purred, smiling at Gloriana in triumph. “The pixie was not only ignorant of Peter’s true gender, but she agreed to keep the secret under duress. Tinkerbell is innocent, Peter Pan is guilty, and you and your lord will now keep your promise to me. She is mine.”
Gloriana shot him an angry glare, but swiftly turned her attention to her husband. Only Oberon could find a way to reclaim their goddaughter now. All the fairies, Gloriana included, were bound to uphold his declaration and recognize Hook’s claim to Peter. But Oberon could find a way around the Law, a loophole or an exception, and he could exploit it. No one knew better than the King how much a Law could be bent. “Oberon?” Gloriana called softly, trying to reach him. “It’s done now… are there any memories Peter hold that could exonerate her? Are there special circumstances that could earn her clemency from the Law?”
“Why, Peter? How could you lie to us?” Oberon whispered.
“Liam,” the girl sobbed, and another memory appeared in the wall.
Peter was bent over Liam, whispering in his ear. Blood stained the boy’s clothing, flowing from lips drawn into a grimace of pain. Slowly the girl sat up, weeping silently, once more pressing her small hands to the wound on his chest in a hopeless effort to staunch the bleeding.
“’Tis a lovely name,” Liam murmured, “I should like to have called ya by it in better times…. Keep sharp, lass, and stay Peter ‘till yer old enough ta hold yer own. There’s worse out there than what’s killed me ta get to ya.”
“I will Liam, I promise. No one else will ever know I’m a girl.”
“Love ya, Pete,” Liam whispered.
“Love you too, Liam,” Peter replied. The boy closed his eyes, his breath becoming increasingly labored. Without a protest he gave one more exhalation, and his face and body relaxed as it gave up the ghost. The girl stared, waiting with increasing distress for him to breathe again, and when he didn’t she threw back her head and screamed.
“Shh!” Peter hissed, becoming animated again. “They’ll hear! They’re coming, RUN!”
“’Ello, there, Slick, we been lookin’ all o’er fer ya,” a voice called, and Peter’s cries ceased as she whirled around to find the source.
“Jonas,” she whispered, standing quickly and backing away, nearly tripping over Liam’s body. “You killed him… how could you?”
“She’s here, boys!” Jonas yelled, keeping his eyes locked on the girl. “He was a liar, an’ ‘e was holdin’ out on us. You were too. Ya lyin’ li’l bitch.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to struggle with herself. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and ran, fleeing from the boy before his friends could join him. She ran desperately in the darkness, barely dodging branches and trees, nearly loosing her footing several times. She kept to the more wooded areas, avoiding the exposed grassy areas of the park. Behind her came the catcalls and laughter as the other teens gave chase and steadily gained ground on her.
“Give up, Pete,” she heard Jonas call, “Give up, else I’m gonna make ya wish ya’d never been born!”
“NO!” Peter screamed, “Help me! Please help me!”
Hook tightened his hold on her, but she continued to writhe desperately, trying to escape the demons in her memories. “Stop this!” he barked at the pixies.
“Can’t…” Oberon gasped, shaking. “Peter, calm down… it’s not real.”
Peter screamed again, and Hook felt a tingle in his arms, the precursor to the collar’s defensive reaction. “Stop this now!” In response, the seeing wall flared even brighter, the images changing once more.
A younger Peter, wearing a patched and dirty dress, ran down a hallway, gasping and crying. Her face bore fading bruises and her eyes were filled with terror.
“I’m gonna make ya wish ya’d never been born, little harlot!” a man roared and the girl ran into a small room, slamming the door behind her. She backed into a corner, wide eyes staring at the door in horrified expectation. Heavy footsteps thundered, pausing on the other side of the doorway, and the door flew open as a booted foot kicked it. A large, dark-haired man strode in, his eyes blazing with anger.
“I’m s-sorry, Uncle,” Peter stammered, her arms coming up to ward off any blows.
“Not as sorry as yer gonna be,” the man growled, raising the cane in his grip.
Peter jerked, screaming as the cane in the memory came down. She cried out with the little girl in her mind, over and over again as the cane pummeled her. Hook held her, ignoring the now-stinging sensations of the collar, and he murmured into her ear, trying to remind her that none of this was real, that it had happened long ago and couldn’t hurt her anymore. It didn’t appear to be helping, but he continued anyway and watched as the little girl in the memory was beaten until she lay curled up on the floor.
Her uncle knelt beside her, dropping his cane to the side and rolling her over. Peter kept her knees drawn up and her arms crossed over her face, and she peeked up at him, sobbing and fearful.
“Don’t ya run from me, else I’ll hurtcha ten times worse, got it?” The girl frantically nodded and he grabbed her hair, yanking her closer. “And if ya hit me again, I’ll kill ya. Now hold still.” His hands fumbled at her dress, ripping the worn material in his haste to get it off.
Peter carefully stretched our her arm, not fighting the man. Her fingers closed upon the cane and with a cry she swung it with all her meager strength. The hard knob on the end of the stick caught her uncle square on the side of his head and he fell to the side with a grunt, unconscious.
“I hate you!” she screamed, shakily getting to her feet and awkwardly trying to pull her sleeves back to her shoulders. She gave up after a moment and lifted the cane with both hands, bringing the knob down on the back of the man’s head. “I’m not your property! It’s not my fault she’s dead and it’s not my fault you’re a drunk!” The knob came down again. “I’m not a whore!”
“DADDY!” a little boy screamed, and Peter looked up to see her cousin standing in the doorway. She dropped the cane in sudden horror and fled, nearly knocking the boy down in her haste to get away.
“Run,” Peter moaned, crying. “I’m sorry Peter… he hurt me!”
“Remember something good, Peter,” Oberon called. “Remember being happy. Calm down… think of your mother.”
“Mummy?” Peter whispered, calming somewhat. The tingling from the collar began to subside, and Hook sighed in relief as he looked to see the new memory forming in the magic window.
A little girl of about four years stood in a garden, staring at a low hedge and giggling. Two fairies sat in the bush, making odd faces at her to make her laugh.
“Tell me a story about Neverland, Robin,” the girl demanded, smiling at the boy-fairy.
“Ah, Neverland!” the fairy answered, smiling. “‘Tis a beautiful island in the Sea of Faerie. It’s ruled by a young Prince named Cory Pan. Did I ever tell you the story of the Ice King, and how Cory Pan stole his Ice Wand and froze Forget-Me-Not Falls so he could have the biggest slide in the world?”
“I wish I lived in Neverland,” the girl sighed. “I’d take Mummy with me, and she’d never be sick again. She could tell me stories and take care of me, instead of Grammy. Grammy’s too old and tired all the time to play with me.”
“Ah, little Light-bringer, you’ll see Neverland one day…” the pixie promised, but then he paused as a small group of humans entered the garden and approached. “We’ll be back later!” he whispered, and in a blink he and the other fairy were gone.
“Light-bringer?” Gloriana murmured, frowning as she stared at Peter.
The little girl turned around, her eyes going wide when she saw the man and woman walking towards her. “Mummy?” she called.
The woman knelt down to the girl’s height, smiling. Her eyes were bright with tears and she took the little girl by the hand. “No, baby, I’m your mummy’s sister. I’m your Auntie Rose. She pointed to the man standing a few feet away, a younger and cleaner version of the Uncle of the previous memory. “This is your Uncle Joe. You’re mummy… she asked us to take care of you while she’s away.”
“Did Mummy go to heaven? She said she would soon.”
Rose gave a small, pained laugh and a few tears fell from her eyes. “Yes, she’s gone to heaven, to find your daddy. You’re to come to London to live with us.”
“But I don’t wanna go to London. I’ll miss Robin and all the other fairies.”
The man snorted. “No such thing as fairies.”
“Is too!” the girl shouted, stomping her foot angrily. “Don’t say mean things like that!”
“Watch your tone, little girl,” the man warned.
“Joe,” Rose called, frowning. “Not now, please don’t start now.”
“I still don’t like it,” the man growled, “why your mother can’t keep her is beyond me…”
The girl turned around and ignored the adults, her eyes scanning the hedge. “Robin? I’m ready to go to Neverland now… Robin? You promised!”
“Promises… lies… everyone lies,” Peter mumbled. The seeing-wall swirled, faces randomly appearing in her memory, scenes forming and replaced moments later by new ones. Liam, Oberon, Hook, the Uncle, scores of others that neither Hook nor Gloriana recognized. “You promised!” Peter shouted suddenly.
“Stop it, Liam!” Peter shouted. She was lying on her back, the older boy on top of her, pinning her down. She was wearing a dress, the skirt of which was pushed up to her hips. “Liam no!” She pushed against him, struggling to get away, but she was dreadfully outmatched.
“C’mon, Pete,” Liam whined, his voice slurred from drink. “I got ya a nice purty dress… got us some real rum…” his hand slipped up her skirt, “Ye should thank me proper-like.”
“STOP!” she screamed, her fists pummeling his shoulders. In an act of desperation, she leaned forward and bit him, her teeth grinding hard into his shoulder.
Liam roared in pain and anger and pulled away from the girl, swearing. His hand flew out, catching the girl across the face. Peter cried out as she quickly rolled away, coming to her feet across the room. Her hand covered her cheek, blood trickling from her nose, and she ran to a window, pushing it open.
“Go on,” Liam yelled. “Selfish li’l bint! Go on an’ shift fer yerself, ye’ll come crawlin’ back in a day.”
Peter climbed out the window and ran down the alley, tears blinding her. Snow fell all around her and the wind whipped her skirt, but she fled onwards into the night.
The seeing-wall changed again, and once more Peter fled through the dark woods, running from the boys that pursued her.
“I thought you were going to make her remember calming things!” Hook yelled at Oberon, feeling the collar’s hum again. Peter was becoming more agitated, gasping for breath and moaning, softly pleading for help.
“Oberon, stop this,” Gloriana called. “Bring her out of it now!”
“Can’t,” the king gasped, shaking badly. His face was deadly pale and his entire body was rigid. “Collar… no control… memory spells… failing… Glory, HELP!”
Gloriana’s eyes went wide and she stared at Peter, realizing that her King was right. She could sense the layers of memory spells beginning to crumble, each one that fell damaging the next one, creating a domino effect that would break the girl’s mind. Quickly she got to her feet, reaching out with her magic as she approached Hook and Peter, hoping that she could intervene in time.
Peter skidded to a halt when a youth stepped into her path. He was grinning at her, holding a knife at the ready. She turned, seeking to run in a different direction, but another boy appeared. She spun, but everywhere she looked a boy appeared, surrounding her.
“Runnin’ in circles, Pete?” Jonas laughed. “Though we taught ya better’n that.”
“Leave me alone,” she wailed looking frantically for a way to escape.
“Fooled us right proper,” the teen continued. The boys advanced on her, the circle closing tighter around her. “Why don’t ya take them clothes off and let us see what ya really are.”
“No!” Peter yelled, ducking and dodging, trying to evade the hands that were reaching out for her. But she couldn’t get away and the hands closed about her arms and legs, pulling her to the ground and tearing at her clothing.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Peter screamed, and Hook began swearing as the hum became unpleasant, nearly painful. Gloriana gasped as a small spark arced towards her warningly, and she stepped back. “Let go!” Peter cried. “Help me! Someone help me!”
“God damned useless insects,” Hook snarled, deciding to end this once and for all. He glanced up at the seeing-wall and saw that the girl in the memory was naked, the boys holding her down and laughing cruelly while they made bids on who’d go first. I will NOT sit here and watch her relive this! He didn’t think about his actions, there was no time for careful consideration. She was about to be raped right before his eyes, and she’d told him before that when she remembered things under the collar’s influence, it was as vivid as real life. He’d die before he sat idly by and allowed her to suffer that torment. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat and lifted his claw to strike.
“Hook! Don’t!” Gloriana screamed, fearing he was going to cut Peter’s throat. She gasped when she saw the claw slip between the collar and Peter’s skin, and her fear increased when she saw what the man really intended to do. “NO!” The claw suddenly glowed, nearly blinding the woman with its brilliance. His arm jerked and the collar parted, falling away from her neck. The world thundered as too many magics collided – hook, collar, spells and stone – and reality disappeared in a blinding agony. Gloriana heard screaming, her own voice mingling with the cries of the other three, and then darkness descended upon her.
[1] Peter’s memory of Hook torturing her with the Neverscroll is straight out of an episode of the cartoon. I transcribed this episode some time ago, and if you’d like to read it, see the transcription of The Neverscroll . It’s written in story format, to make it more interesting to read.
[2] There is a clip of the episode where Peter cut off Hook’s hand. The episode doesn’t actually show the maiming, but leads right up to it. In the flashback, I picked up immediately after the clip ends and wrote what I think may have happened (and why she threw the hand to the croc). If you’d like to download and watch the clip, see First Encounter .
There are more clips to be found at The Cove Multimedia.