Chapter 1- The Boy Awakens

           

Peter awoke slowly.  He had drifted towards consciousness many times, aware that someone was calling his name.  But he always fled from the waking world when it came too close.  With awareness came unpleasant feelings:  pain, loss, grief, cold, hunger, and thirst among the most prominent.  This time, however, he felt he had to awaken, else he never would.  Would that be so bad?  He fought away the apathy, the desire to give up, and pulled himself onward.  Finally, like breaking the surface of some great, dark ocean, he came to.  He opened his eyes – at least the thought he did.  He couldn’t tell because all he saw was blackness.

Am I dead after all?  He hoped not.  This was coldness and pain.  He had always believed that in death would come a new life – a life with loved ones who had gone on before.  Loneliness filled him.  He could still feel the rawness where he had been severed from the magic of Neverland.  He had never realized how much a part of him it had been.

He felt tears on his face, and he tried to wipe them away.  I can’t move!  He felt the iron around him, holding him down.  Suddenly he was wide awake, panic overriding his thoughts.  He struggled, but he couldn’t get free.  He tried to scream, but something in his mouth prevented him from making any more than harsh moans.  All he could see was darkness, all he could hear was a faint roar and the creaking of wood. 

Where am I?  What’s happening?  Eventually he calmed, too exhausted to fight further.  He remembered being on the pirate ship.  He remembered that Hook had done something to him, but he could not remember what exactly it had been.  I must still be on the ship.  What’s he going to do?  Exhausted, he began to drift back to sleep.  He hovered at the edge of awareness, and realized he felt a presence.  It was a presence that had been there all along, but in his turmoil of emotion and confusion he had missed it.  But he felt it now. 

The void in his soul ached to be filled, and in desperation Peter reached for that presence, hoping to re-establish what he had lost.  Toward it he sent a cry for help, a statement of his need and anguish.  He felt momentary relief when it responded.  It seemed surprised at first, but quickly moved towards him.  As it reached for him, he realized what it was.  He tried to flee, but he was too late.  The dark presence overtook him.  It forced itself into the void within his soul and bound him.  He felt the loose ends that once joined him to Neverland close.  Some were tied off forever, others connected with this malevolent entity.  He cried out at the painful intrusion, and fought against it, but he wasn’t strong enough to break away.   It burned within him, cold and hot, sharp as a thorn and dark as pitch.   Through his pain and outrage, he sensed the other’s initial confusion at what was happening, then its joy and laughter when it realized what it could do and completed the joining.  It cried out in triumph when it realized that the boy was now his, completely and forever.  Peter wailed and tried to reject what was done, but a part of that darkness was a part of him now.  He could not resist, and fell silent, helpless.

Go back to sleep, Peter.  I’ll be there shortly.  Hook’s thought ordered him.  Unable to resist, and too tired and hurt to care, Peter fell into the oblivion.

---

Hook was at the wheel when suddenly somehow he knew Pan was finally awake.

“Smee take the wheel,” he ordered.

“Aye, Cap’n sir,” Smee jumped to comply.  He hesitated, “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but what direction?”

“Just keep us going straight.  We’re still in the reach of Neverland, and we can’t leave until it releases us.  Keep us away from the island.”

“Ay, sir!”

Hook retired to his cabin and retrieved the opal ring from his desk.  He had removed it when he finished the charm, and only wished to use it when he needed answers.  He put it back on his finger and lay on his bed.  He could feel Peter’s distress and wanted to devote his full attention to enjoying it.  He didn’t know how this was possible, the ring had not warned him it would happen.  He questioned the ring, and learned that this was a result of the bonding, which must be completed now. 

*The magic within him and the magic of the charm are interacting in many ways.  It is not yet stable.  You must finish it now, or the opportunity will be lost and Peter will die.*  Shimi’s thought came to him.

Can he sense me, too?

*Yes, he doesn’t realize yet that he can.  He is lost and in pain.  Neverland was ripped from him, and its loss is too much for him to bear.  It is worse for him than it was for you when you lost your hand.*

What do I do now?

*He yearns for what he has lost.  You can replace it, you must replace it.  Complete the bonding, and heal the wounds.  Bond with him, and he will be yours - a loyal and devoted son.  Heed my direction, and I will show you how*

Following the ring’s advice, he closed his eyes and concentrated.  He felt his sense of the boy grow stronger, but did nothing, content to observe.  Suddenly and surprisingly, he felt Peter reach out to him, bombarding him with his anguish and fear, and he felt the child’s need for help. 

*Go to him*

Hook felt something within him reach out.  He lead in with calm thoughts, tinged with pity and concern.  He was surprised at that, but realized it was true.  I do pity him, but he deserves everything he’s going to get.  And I am concerned.  I do not want my prize damaged.  He felt triumph and anticipation when Peter responded to him.  He laughed when Peter, horrified at the realization of who he was, tried to flee.  He seized Peter’s essence and dragged it to him.

A shock went through him when he felt the joining begin and his hold on the boy lessened.

*Don’t let go!  Hold him.  Take him.  Make yourself a part of him, and him a part of yourself.*

He pulled Peter closer and felt the wounds in the boy’s psyche.  He knew this was where Pan had been connected with Neverland, and reached out to touch one of the severed tendrils.  To his amazement and delight, it joined with him.  His awareness of Peter grew, and so did Hook’s need to dominate his enemy.  He forced himself on the boy and ignored Shimi’s shouts of protest.

*NO!!! Not like that!  It must be mutual!  You will damage his mind that way!*

He joined where he felt the fit was best, and closed off the connections he did not use.  Peter fought and lashed out, screaming in pain and outrage.  But he was trapped and could not get away… and then it was too late.   Peter’s struggles ceased and Hook knew the binding was complete.  He paused, relishing this new development.  He knew Peter could never get away from him now; the boy was his.  He looked at his prize and saw the pain still within him.

*You’ve hurt him.  Maybe worse than he was before.  You promised me you would not torture or destroy him!* came Shimi’s accusatory thought.

Hook shoved her aside and concentrated on Peter.  Hunger, thirst, physical pain… He’s injured.  It has been awhile since we put him down there.  Over two days.  The fairies have given up their raids.  It’s time he came out.

Go to sleep, Peter.  I’ll be there shortly.  He felt Peter slip into sleep.

Hook opened his eyes and smiled.  This was going to be an interesting turn of events. 

*You fool!  You were supposed to bond with him, to fill the emptiness that would have driven him mad.  You were not supposed to enslave him to your will.  You have violated him, and you have made things worse.*

I do as I please, hag.  He is my prize.  He will serve me.  I will not give up a part of myself to him as you would have had me do.  This is not a mutual pact we were entering.  I have conquered him, and he is mine. 

*You shall regret this.  It is not too late to fix what you have done.*

Hook did not reply.  He removed the ring and put it back within his desk.  Then he called for Mason to accompany him below.

“The boy?” Mason asked as they walked.

“Ay, time for my cabin-boy to be born to his new life,” Hook replied with a smile.

“He’ll try to get away.  Pan’s not the kind to give up and submit.  Are you sure this is a good idea, Cap’n?”

“He may try to resist, but with little success.  He is trapped, and he knows it.  He is my boy now.”

When they reached the room, Mason removed the crate and opened the cell.  Peter had heard the noise of the crate being dragged away, and tried to awaken.  He was fully aware of sounds and sensations, but his body would not respond.  His eyes opened to slits, and they would not focus.  His limbs were lead.  He was aware of a light, and two vague shapes bent over him.  He knew instinctively that one of the shapes was Hook, even though he could not make out any features.  He felt himself being lifted.

“He’s awake, Cap’n,” he heard a familiar voice say.

Hook frowned and bent over Peter.  He saw Peter’s eyes were opened and unfocused, and knew the boy was trying to awaken.  “You know you can’t win, but you keep fighting me anyway,” he mused softly, smiling.  “I wonder if I can tame you without breaking you completely.  It shall be fun to try.”

Peter tried to say something, but the gag was still in place.  He felt the manacles being removed and moaned in pain when the one around his wounded foot was touched.

“Is that where you’re hurt, boy?  If you’re good we’ll fix it up for you,” Hook teased. 

“Cap’n?   He’s warm.  I think he has fever,” warned Mason as he unlatched the last of the manacles. 

The Captain raised Peter’s head and touched his lips lightly to the boy’s forehead.  As Mason said, the boy had some fever.  “He’s injured and he’s been in the bowels of the ship for over two days, with no food or water.  It’s not terribly surprising that he’s sick,” Hook responded.  He lifted Peter off of the board and slung him over his shoulder.

“You want me to take ‘im, Cap’n?” Mason asked.

“You nearly killed him last time, don’t think I forgot,” Hook snapped, “Close that thing up and get back to work.  Pan is mine.  I’ll tend to him.”

“Shall I unlock the brig, then?”

“No.  It’s filthy and dank in there.  The last thing I want is for him to die of an infection right now.”

Hook carried Peter to his cabin, stopping in the kitchen only long enough to pick up a flask of water and order Cookson to bring some stew for their supper.  As they crossed the deck, the other pirates stared in wonder, then quickly returned to their duties at Hook’s warning glare.

Once in the cabin, he laid Peter on his bed.  He yelled for Jukes to bring some warm water, whiskey and bandages.  While he waited, he sat on the bed next to Peter and removed the gag.

“Lemme lone,” Peter whispered harshly.  He could barely speak through his dry throat and swollen tongue.

“Hush, boy,” Hook admonished.  He tilted the boy forward and supported his head.  Hook lifted the water-flask to Peter’s lips and poured a little in.  “Drink,” he commanded.

Peter swallowed the water.  He wanted to grab the flask, but he still couldn’t move.  “More,” he whispered.

“In a minute.  Too much now and you might throw it up.  You are not going to vomit in my bed.  Now hold still, I’m going to look at your leg.”

He moved to the foot of the bed to get a better view.  He saw that Peter’s leg was a bit swollen and red above the top of the boot.  He carefully grabbed the boot and tried to pull it off.  It was stuck, so he jerked harder.  Peter cried out in pain and his other foot shot up and kicked Hook square in the jaw.  Peter sat up, wild-eyed and awake.

The Captain let go of the boy and backed up in surprise.  The kick did him no damage, probably wouldn’t even leave a red mark.  Peter was too weak right now to put any force behind a blow.  But he has the gall to strike out at me?  He glared at Peter, who was sitting there, looking around the room in confusion.  His legs were drawn up to keep the injury safely away from the pirate.  It was reflex.  I hurt him and he reacted.  But still…

“Pan,” he growled.  Peter looked at him and frowned.  Hook came around the side of the bed, reached out, and slapped him.  He didn’t hit him nearly as hard as he wanted to, but it was hard enough to hurt.  Peter gaped at Hook and gingerly touched his stinging cheek.  His tear-filled eyes narrowed in anger.

Hook chuckled, “Spirit.  I like that in my friends and my enemies.  But not right now.  When I tell you to do something, you will obey me.  I told you to hold still.”  He grabbed Peter by the throat and pulled him close.  He squeezed just a little, and added, “And don’t you ever strike out at me again.  Or it will go very badly for you.”

He let go and Peter scrambled back.  What does he want with me?  Why didn’t he kill me?  He wants to hurt me.  I’m alone, I’m lost…Neverland is gone… no hope.  He has me and I’m not strong enough. WHY CAN I FEEL HIM INSIDE ME?  Everything that had happened rushed upon him again, overwhelming him.  He felt, for the first time in ages, like what he actually was:  a lost child.  He was an injured little boy who had just been ripped from everyone he knew and loved and left instead with people who wanted to hurt him.  He began to cry.  Stop it, Peter.  Don’t let them see you cry!  But everything hurts.  Inside me everything hurts.  He tried to fight it, but he couldn’t hold back anymore.  Quickly his sobs gained momentum, and he curled up tight and cried out against the despair within himself.

Hook was taken aback.  He had expected a fight or at least a cutting remark from Pan.  He had not expected him to cry, much less the hysterics that the child was building up to.  A child.  He is a child.  Sometimes I don’t see that.  He is a child I intend to raise, to mold into the man I want him to be.  And it begins now. 

“Pan,” he called.  Peter didn’t look up or respond.  “Peter,” he tried again, softening his tone.  He’s going to make himself sick if he doesn’t calm down.  I guess it’s a good thing I haven’t fed him yet.  Now how do I get him to stop crying? Even worse, he could sense the sadness and pain rolling off Peter in waves.   He pulled the boy to him again, carefully this time.  He sat Peter in his lap and held him.  Peter fought at first, squirming and flailing with his fists.  Hook let him fight, but did not lessen his hold.  Soon, the boy was too exhausted to continue protesting and sat unresisting, and after awhile his sobs tapered off and ceased. 

With Peter so close, Hook could again feel the bond between them.  How far does my control extend?  He fights me, but not like he used to.  Is it because he’s sick, or because of what I did?  Hook had many questions, but he did not go to Shimi for answers.  Her idea of what Hook should do with Peter had diverged with his own, and he had no more use for her.

“Water, please,” Peter croaked.  Hook let him go and helped him back on the bed.  Peter wouldn’t look at him, but took several more mouthfuls of water.  Why did he do that?  He hit me and then he held me.  What game is he playing? Peter wondered as he drank the cool water.

There as a knock at the door and Jukes entered, bearing the medical supplies and warm water Hook had ordered.

“Good, Jukes.  I want you to stay here and assist me,” Hook said amiably.

“Ay, sir,” Billy replied.  He looked at Peter curiously.  It was strange to see him sitting by the Captain, unfettered, and the two not trying to kill each other.  He could tell Pan had been crying, but he made no comment.  He actually felt bad for the boy.  If I were the Cap’n’s enemy, and I was trapped and alone with him, I’d wanna cry, too.  “Cap’n?  What’s wrong with him, sir?”

“He’s still recovering from the trauma of his kidnapping and the spell I put on him.  Apparently, Curly wasn’t the only injured boy we caught.  Peter’s foot is damaged, and he hid it when we caught him.  Now, it appears to be infected.”

Peter glared at him, but said nothing.  Hook smiled pleasantly and continued, “Now, we will remove Master Pan’s boot and see to his wound.  And he will sit still and not fight, else he will be in a hundred times more pain than he is now.”

“Leave me alone, Codfish.  Don’t touch me!” Peter demanded.

Hook nodded, “I could leave you alone, but I won’t.  If it isn’t taken care of, you will get very sick and your leg will turn gangrenous.  When that happens, it will have to be cut off or you will die.”

Peter paled.  “No,” he whispered. 

Hook enjoyed seeing the stricken look on Peter’s face, and he pressed on.  “Now that I think about it that would be fair.  You removed my hand, and so I remove your leg.  I’d rather have a cabin-boy with all of his appendages, but I can get use out of one with a wooden leg.”

Billy saw that the Captain was trying to scare Peter and added, “Ay, sir.  We can call ‘im Peg-Leg Pete!”

Hook beamed, “That’s a wonderful name!  I like it!  Mr. Jukes, escort Peter to the brig.  We’ll take his leg when there’s no more hope for it.”

“No!” Peter was shaking.  He knew Hook was toying with him, but he also knew that the evil pirate was also just as likely to carry through on his threat.  His leg hurt a lot now that Hook had aggravated it and he didn’t want anyone else to touch it.  He especially didn’t want his enemy touching it.  But… he didn’t want them to cut off his leg.  It hurt even now that it was left alone, throbbing and aching.  He knew about injuries, having had many of them in his life, and he knew they could make you sick.  He’d always had someone to help him then, though, and he’d never seen anyone have a part cut off because it was hurt.  But pirates did things different, and he didn’t doubt they’d do something as awful as that.  He needed to be well and whole if he was ever going to escape.

“No, what?” Hook replied mildly.

“I’ll let you touch it.  I won’t fight.”

“You’ll ‘let me’?” Hook scoffed.  “I offered you aid, which you rudely rejected.  Now you’ll have to ask nicely if you want my assistance.”

Peter flushed in anger and shame, but complied.  “Please, help me.”  I hate you.

“If I do, do you promise to behave?” Hook cajoled, loving that he was making Peter Pan beg him for help.

“Yes.”

“You will address me as 'Sir' and 'Captain' from now on, boy.  As a new member of my crew, you had best learn to show me respect,” Hook stated coldly.

Peter glared and gritted his teeth.  “Yes, SIR.  I promise to behave, Captain, SIR,” he growled.

“That’s a start, boy.  In the future, I’ll not tolerate your insolence and sarcasm.  I understand that right now you are unwell and so I will forgive you.  But next time I will not be so kind.”

Hook laid a towel on the bed.  “Now, lie back and put your leg on this.”  Peter did as he was told and Hook sat on the bed again.  He patted Peter gently on his shoulder.  “Don’t push me, boy, and life here won’t be so hard.  You may even come to enjoy it.  Now, your boot is stuck, so Mr. Jukes is going to cut it off.  Tell me if it hurts more than you can stand and we will stop for a bit.  We are in no rush right now.  I’d rather not give it to you in your present condition, but if you need it, I will give you some whiskey.  It will dull the pain.”

He nodded at Jukes, who took up a small knife and began to cut.  It took awhile to cut through the leather, but Peter’s boots were old and worn, so it went faster than Hook thought it would.  To his credit, he isn’t squirming and he isn’t crying.  He hasn’t done more than grunt, even when the clumsy oaf accidentally cut him, Hook thought approvingly.

“Here we go,” Billy announced when he thought he had enough of it cut through to pull the boot off.  “Grit your teeth, Pan.”  Hook put his hand on Peter’s chest to hold him down, and Billy yanked the boot off.  Peter moaned, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Blood caked all inside, that’s why it stuck.  What’s this?” Billy asked, looking at the cloth that wrapped his leg.

“My cloak,” Peter mumbled, wiping away a stray tear.

Billy eyed Peter’s clothes, which were tattered and dirty.  “No wonder it’s infected.  When’s the last time you washed you clothes?”

Peter did not reply and Jukes removed the last of the cloth.  “Sweet Mary,” he whispered.

Peter’s leg just above the ankle and his entire foot were bruised purple and black.  The gash was bad, the skin around it swollen and definitely infected.  It had clotted, but it began bleeding again in places where the scabbing had come off with the cloth.  Above the bruising, the skin was red and puffy.

Billy began washing off the caked blood from around the gash.  “He’ll need stitches,” Hook noted when Billy was almost done. 

Jukes nodded, “Mr. Smee is the best for that.  He’s had the most practice.”

Hook looked at his hook thoughtfully, remembering when Smee had cared for him when he lost his hand. “Go relieve the bosun and tell him to come here.”  Billy nodded again and left.

“You should have said something when I caught you, Peter.  You wouldn’t have had to walk to the boat, and I would have tended to it before we left Neverland,” Hook said quietly.

“My enemy’s weakness is my strength.  Besides, you were supposed to kill me, so why would I think you would help,” Peter answered.  But inside he thought, He said we left Neverland.  How long ago?  How will I get back? I have to leave soon, or I’ll never get home again!  If they can’t reach me like I can’t reach them, they won’t know where to look for me.

Smee entered and looked at Peter’s leg.  He whistled and gathered up the things he’d need.  Hook grabbed the whiskey and poured some for Peter. 

“Drink this, boy,” he ordered.

Peter sniffed it and frowned.  He tentatively took a sip and gagged as the liquid burned his mouth, nose and throat.

Hook growled.  “Drink it!  Smee’s about to do something painful and you need to not move at all.  This will dull your senses and make it bearable.  Or, I can put you to sleep the easy way.”

Peter nodded and downed the alcohol in a few big gulps.  The whiskey hit his empty stomach like a burning coal, and instantly tried to rebound.  Peter coughed, but fought down the reflux.  He took a few deep breaths and his stomach calmed.  He felt a pleasant warm glow start in his stomach and spread outwards.  He handed the cup back to Hook, who was chuckling quietly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked suspiciously.  It tasted like poison, but why would he poison me when he could have killed me already?

“It’s always entertaining to watch a boy take his first drink.  The reaction is always the same, though most people do worse than you just did.  You haven’t eaten, so it will work on you faster.  Now, don’t move and this will hurt less.”

Mr. Smee began humming a tune as he set to work.  He cleaned the wound, doused it with some of the whiskey, and started to stitch.  Peter winced, but it didn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would. 

Hook took his place on the bed again and watched Peter’s face.  “So, boy, how were you injured?”

“Same as Curly,” he said through gritted teeth.  “Tink did it.”

“Your pixie?  How did such a tiny thing do so much damage to the two of you?  And why did she?”

Peter shrugged and told Hook about the events leading up to his capture.  In the middle of the story, he paused to take another drink of the whiskey.  He finished telling, and Hook nodded thoughtfully. 

“Betrayed by your friend,” he mused.

“She didn’t!” Peter protested.  “She didn’t know.  She probably thought the worst that happened was that we splashed into the water.”  Peter frowned, then asked the question that was bothering him, “How long since we left Neverland?”

Hook smiled, “Two and a half days.”  His smile broadened when he saw the hope in the child’s eyes fade.  “I’m afraid it’s much too far for you to swim back.  Is that what you were hoping for?”

Peter didn’t answer, but just looked away.  They sat in silence as Smee continued working on Peter’s injury.  Finally, Smee finished the stitches and wrapped the leg in clean bandages.  “All done, then, Cap’n, sir!” he announced happily.

“Good.  Now, take Peter’s clothes below and have them washed next laundry day.  Come on, boy, take everything off.”

Peter sat up and removed his ragged cloak, shirt and belt.  He had a harder time with his shorts, but soon he wore nothing but his underpants and sat shivering on the bed.  Smee picked up the pile of clothes.

“What’s this?” Smee asked when he felt a lump inside the remnants of the cloak.

“My pipes,” Peter answered. 

Smee removed them from the inner pocket and handed the instrument to Hook.  The Captain placed them on his desk and began rummaging through his chest.  He found one of his old shirts and tossed it to Peter.  “Put this on and take off your underpants.  Everything will be washed.  Smee, I don’t want a speck of pixie dust left in his clothing.  Patch up any holes in the cloth.  Take an old pair of pants and a shirt from the trunks that might be nearer to his size and hem them up.  He needs something else to wear.” 

“Ay, Cap’n sir!” and Smee left them alone.