Chapter 11 – After Hope
As usual, Peter awoke just before Hook, and spent those precious few minutes in quiet. He lay still, watching as the room lightened and listened to the man snore softly. At times like this, Peter felt peace within himself. He could feel without Hook’s strong emotions intruding (though he was getting better everyday at blocking them, and unless Hook was very upset, he had to reach now to get a sense of how Hook felt), but at the same time, his connection to the man felt stronger. Their link was at its strongest when he would awaken in the Captain’s arms while Hook slept – a combination of physical contact and Hook’s guard being down, Peter supposed. At those times, he thought he could almost see Hook’s mind, but that idea frightened him and brought back memories of when the man had broken him.
Peter noticed his arm was numb from lying on his side, so he rolled onto his back. He immediately remembered why he had been on his side as stinging pains raced up his spine. He hissed and sat up quickly.
“Good morning, Captain,” he said brightly, knowing he had awakened the man. He rubbed his arm briskly to restore the circulation.
“Ay,” Hook muttered and opened his eyes. He looked at the boy critically, “What are you doing?”
“My arm’s asleep,” Peter answered. He flexed his fingers as the tingling sensations intensified, then proceeded to get dressed. He went to the galley to get their breakfast and give Hook time to get dressed and shave. Shaving fascinated Peter, but Hook seemed to knick himself more when the boy stared at him, so he usually did it while Peter was out. He chatted with Billy a bit, but noticed the new crewmen were looking at him strangely.
Billy noticed, too, and whispered to Peter, “Starkey and Mullins regaled them all night with stories of your exploits in Neverland. The new guys were especially curious about your scar; seems they were concerned that it might be a customary punishment.”
“What were they told?” Peter asked, frowning, “and what did they think?”
“Well, we told ‘em you got it ‘cause you tried to murder the Cap’n and jump ship. Cookson even showed them the marks on his head. They think yer some kind of demon-child that’s havin’ to learn to act human again. They’re wary of you, which is good. Sailors like to give ship-boys a hard time, and my first months on ship were pretty bad. If you can make ‘em respect you, then they’ll leave you alone.”
Peter sighed, “I don’t want anyone to ‘respect’ me through fear and hate. That’s Hook’s way, not mine.”
“That’s the pirate way, Peter,” Jukes corrected. “I respect you, and I like you, but you do frighten me sometimes. I remember who you are…”
“Were,” Peter corrected, “Hook’s changed me with that spell. I can feel a part of him in my mind, and it’s changed me. The part of me that is still the old Pan is still there, but it’s separate somehow. Every day I feel more like I have two minds, one that wants to belong here, and one that hates this life. I’m warming up to this place, I miss home but if I can fit in, I could learn to be happy here.” Peter could be honest with Billy, more so than any other person on the ship. He knew the boy wouldn’t tell anyone what he said, and like Hook said, things were better if you got them out.
“Cheer up, me bucko,” Jukes said as he playfully shoved Peter. “Things change, and it’s a sad life that doesn’t. Enjoy what you’ve got, and don’t regret what’s gone – just be thankful you had it. It’s a better lot that most people get to enjoy.”
Peter smiled at his friend and shoved him back. He picked up the tray and made his way back towards the cabin.
On deck, Mr. Davis was practicing his knife throwing, aiming at a black dot on a barrel. He gave Peter an ugly smile as the boy passed. Peter nodded in return and kept walking. He didn’t like Davis, something about the man felt wrong and set him on edge, and he thought it better to just ignore him but remain civil. He heard a whistle and a thump behind him. He turned around and saw one of the knives embedded in the mast, at eye level just behind him.
“I hear yer a great fighter. I hear ya can do all sorts of amazing things with a blade, and yer so dangerous only the Cap’n can deal with ya. Lotta horseshit if ya ask me. It’ll be a cold day indeed afore a spoilt little whelp like you gets the best of Tom Davis.”
“Leave ‘im be,” Mason growled from the wheel.
“If he’s half the demon you chaps made out, he don’ need you babysittin’ ‘im!” Davis growled.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Davis, but I have more important duties than listening to you yap. The Captain’s breakfast is getting cold,” Peter said in a steely voice.
“Well ya don’t want to keep the Cap’n waitin’,”Davis sneered.
Peter turned and took another step. There was another thump, and a knife hilt was suddenly protruding from the deck where Peter’s next step should have been.
“I didn’t say you could go yet, brat,” Davis growled. He had three more knives on him, and a look in his eye promised that he would use them.
Peter set the tray on the deck and yanked the knife from the wood at his feet. He tested the weight and balance in his hand – it felt good to hold a blade again. It had been weeks (months? I can’t remember) since he had last wielded a weapon. He stared at the big man critically for a moment, then with barely a glance at the target, he flicked his wrist and sent the blade hurtling towards the black spot. His aim apparently was still true, and the knife embedded itself in the dead center of the bull’s-eye, nestled among the other knives that encircled it.
McLeery whistled appreciatively, but Mason shouted, “Peter! Lad, yer getting’ rusty. Cap’n oughtta let ya practice again.”
Davis’s face turned purple and he scowled. “I’ll not be made a fool of by a little boy,” he sneered.
“You don’t need me to make a fool of you, you do just fine on your own,” Pan called back mockingly. The old light was in his eyes again, and his stance was the cocky pose he’d often struck when taunting Hook. He allowed the angry aspect of himself to take over, knowing it was best suited for dealing with bullies: it had dealt with Hook well enough before.
“There’s the old Pan, for sure,” Jukes breathed, and those of the old crew that heard him nodded. No one noticed Hook in the doorway, watching with a dangerous look in his eye. He had been watching for Peter, to tell him of his surprise, when he saw what Davis was doing. He watched now, letting Peter stand up for himself as he must. But the pose and tone both encouraged and enraged him, and he held himself to a fine line as he watched.
Davis drew one of his remaining daggers. “Go back to yer Cap’n, brat, afore I have to hurt ya. Let him coddle and bugger ya to ‘is heart’s content,” Davis spat, heedless of his danger.
Pan didn’t know or care what the man had meant, but he saw the shock and anger on the other men’s faces and knew it was a deadly insult. But he also felt the Captain’s sudden flood of rage and hate, flowing into him and overwhelming his own thoughts and feelings. Without realizing why, knowing only that he must, he attacked the filthy pirate.
Pan charged the large man, who grinned hideously and made ready to knock the boy aside. At the last moment, Pan dove and rolled under the swipe. When he was within reach, he leapt up and plucked the last two daggers from the man’s belt. In a whirl, he dove again to the side to avoid a vicious cut from Davis’s knife hand. Wielding a blade in each fist, he dodged behind the man and gave him a couple of scores on the backs of his legs.
He didn’t want to kill the man, though he felt that Hook wanted him to. If left to his own devices, he would merely have humiliated the pirate. But the rage spilling into him was pushing him further, making him want to hurt the man as much as he could. And seeing the blood and hearing Davis yell at the pain frenzied him even further. He circled the man, dodging and leaping – never being where he seemed to be headed. He scored dozens of small hits, cutting and stabbing Davis on his arms, legs, back… anywhere he could reach.
Davis was nearly insane with pain and frustration, and struck back in a blind rage. He screamed and swore, and tried to kill the lightning quick boy whenever he actually caught sight of him. Pan giggled manically, hurling his own taunts, some in fey. He spun, deftly handling the two blades and appeared as a blur, blades sparkling in the sun. No one dared interfere, knowing that both combatants were too dangerous and could turn on them too. Hook watched from the doorway, still enraged, but smiling in satisfaction at each hit. He could feel Peter’s bloodlust and enjoyed every moment of it.
After a few minutes, Pan became bored. The man was an oaf, a nobody who was not worth his attention, and he decided he’d played enough. He came around in front of Davis, low on his knees. He struck out and drove the hilt end of one dagger hard into the man’s groin. Davis’s breath gushed out and he crumpled to the deck in agony. Pan laughed and crowed for the first time since he was brought aboard. He leapt on the man to cut his throat and end the game.
Mason grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms, and hauled him back. Pan kicked and swore, trying to wriggle free of the strong man’s grasp.
“Release me, Mason or I swear, I’ll…” Pan’s voice was cut off as Mason squeezed, forcing the air from his lungs and hurting his cracked ribs.
“You’ll what? Murder me? Peter, calm down. You don’t wanna kill ‘em. He ain’t worth it, lad,” Mason whispered in the boy’s ear, trying to sooth him.
Suddenly, Peter came back to his senses, and he sagged in Mason’s arms. I almost killed that man. What happened? I enjoyed hurting him! What’s wrong with me? Mason felt him relax and let him down, but kept a firm grip on his shoulder.
Little and Corzone went to Davis and checked on him. Besides being racked and suffering from numerous painful, bleeding (but none deadly) wounds, he was fine. They helped him to his feet, and restrained him when he tried to lunge for Peter again. “You idiot,” Little hissed, “even if that boy hadn’t proved the truth of himself, you’re still screwed. Captain Hook was on deck while you mouthed off. I won’t have you endangering our new place on this ship. If you do anything like that again, I’ll kill you myself!”
“Well done, Pan,” Hook purred as he approached the scene. “Mr. Mason, would you please disarm the boy? I don’t want him killing Davis.” Hook glared at the man and continued, “especially since I am reserving that right for myself.” Hook’s eyes glittered as he approached Davis. “Peter’s satisfied his honor, but I have yet to satisfy my own. Peter is special to me. Because of our history and our bond, it behooves me to afford him special consideration in certain matters. But you’ve offended me with your base slander, cur, as to suggest I would molest him. Take this dog to the brig. I don’t want any more of his foul blood staining my deck!”
Davis was removed, and Hook turned back to Peter. “Go to the cabin and wash up.”
Peter, barely breathing hard and as calm looking as stone, nodded and went to their quarters.
Once Peter was safely inside and out of sight, he began to shake. He looked at his hands and saw splatters of blood on them, and on his shirt. He hastily removed his shirt and ran to the washbowl Hook had left out to do his shaving with. He furiously scrubbed his hands, especially beneath his nails, continuing long after the last speck of blood was gone.
Hook entered a few minutes after Peter did, and watched the boy wash. That Peter was distressed was obvious, and Hook felt he should comfort the boy. He made me proud. I saw the first fruits of my labor today. Imagine that same scene, but age him eight or ten years… Hook felt an intense pleasure at the thought and walked up to the boy.
“Peter,” he said softly.
Peter yelped in surprise, ducked and spun in alarm. He stared at the Captain with wide, frightened eyes, and it was obvious he had been crying. He backed up slowly till he pressed against the wall. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why… I didn’t want to. I tried to stop and I couldn’t. Please don’t hurt me again,” he moaned in a shaky voice.
Hook stared at Peter, taken aback by this unexpected response. He saw Peter’s hand go to the scar, and felt icy fingers claw his gut. He held up his hand in a peace gesture, and said calmly, “I’m not going to punish you, Peter. You did nothing wrong.”
“Yes I DID,” Peter screamed. “I liked hurting him. I liked seeing his blood! I couldn’t stop because I was having FUN! It was evil…I’m not evil…” Peter began to shake and his breath became faster as he began hyperventilating.
Hook reached for the boy, and after a moment’s hesitation, Peter came to him and took his hand. He led the child to the bed and sat him on it. “You’re not evil, Peter. If you were, you wouldn’t feel like this. You’d be celebrating right now. You’ve been under much stress for a long time, and you acted out on it. He made you angry, he insulted you and he wished to hurt you, so you had to defend yourself and your honor.”
Peter forced himself to slow down, and breathe normally. Hook kept his hand on the boy’s arm, and thankfully remained mindful enough to not pat him on the back. The contact steadied Peter, and he felt his ugly feelings slowly recede. He still felt guilty and horrified at what had happened, but he could remember the incident more calmly now.
“He didn’t though,” Peter said after a few minutes. At Hook’s quizzical look, he explained. “I don’t quite understand, but I do know he didn’t make me that angry. I was mostly annoyed, but I was going to keep it at trading insults. Then he said that last thing… everyone got upset. I don’t understand what those words meant. ‘Coddle’ yes, but not ‘bugger’. I felt you were angry. You wanted to hurt him, to kill him. So I got angry too. I wanted to do the things you wanted to do – to make him scream and to make him hurt. But I didn’t want to kill him… even though you did. But at the end, I was going to kill him anyway, and I was happy to do it. I would have, if Mason hadn’t stopped me.”
Hook said nothing, lost in thought. I fed him my hate and rage, like I did before, when I shattered his mind. But this time he seems to have channeled it, used it. I could feel him while he fought, and I liked it. He transformed my rage into joy, and sent it back to me. Neither of us intended or realized it, but it makes sense.
“I’m a horrible person,” Peter said after awhile.
“No. You saved his life, Peter. You knew I wanted to kill him, and I was indeed about to do that very thing. You didn’t want him dead, and intervened. You punished him for me, tempering my rage with your conscience. You just become overwhelmed, and lost yourself for a moment. I could feel you while you did it, and it made me happy. I sent you my evil feelings, and you sent me good ones. I’m still angry at Davis, but I no longer want to plunge my hook into his guts and rip them out slowly. You didn’t realize it Peter, but you did a good thing.”
Peter looked Hook in the eye and spoke candidly. “I’m afraid I’m turning into you. I know that’s what you wanted, for me to become like you. You put a part of yourself inside me, and every day it feels more like a part of me. It’s dark and mean and cruel, and I don’t want it.”
“We traded, Peter,” Hook said. “I gave you a part of me, but I had to take a part of you too. I can feel you too, and it pains me. It’s bright and clear, and shines a light on all the evil things I’ve ever done. It has become the conscience I lost a long time ago, and since I acquired it, I have for the first time felt guilt for things I’ve done.”
Peter nodded slowly. “That’s why I stopped fighting you, after you apologized. I felt you meant it, so I decided to wait and see.” Hook stared at Peter, confused, so the boy recounted the night he had awakened in Hook’s arms after his mind had healed, and heard the man express his guilt for hurting him.
Hook nodded, “From now on, you had best let me know when you wake up from a nightmare. I don’t like the idea of you pretending to be asleep.”
“Ay, sir,” Peter said.
“Now, breakfast is cold, so I’ll send for more. While we wait, we will begin on your lessons. I believe I promised you extra courses starting today.” Peter groaned in response, but did not argue. The idea of studying did not seem so bad right now, it would get his mind off what had happened.
“The dog ran to the boy,” Peter read slowly, eyes glued to his tablet. “Wh – when he saw the boy thr- oww…”
“Throw, Peter. The ‘w’ is silent,” Hook corrected.
Peter frowned, but continued on, “…throw the… stick?” he looked up and Hook nodded. “…the dog …” he stared at the next word for awhile, then looked at Hook with a frown.
“Quickly. ‘Q’ is always paired with a ‘U’ and together they make a ‘kwa’ sound. The ‘I’ is short, the ‘C’ is silent, and ‘L’ and ‘Y’ make the sound ‘lee’,” Hook explained. It was frustrating, he had already explained these same rules to Peter a dozen times, but the boy was deliberately averse to remembering them.
Peter, annoyed, set the tablet down. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen!” he snapped. “I still don’t understand why you have words with letters you don’t use, or make sounds they’re not supposed to make!”
“Because that’s the way it is done! Better men than you and I developed our language, and bigger simpletons than you are able to read it!” Hook growled. He felt his head begin to throb, as it always did when Peter irritated him too much. This was becoming an old argument for them. Ever since Peter had graduated to larger words, he had been resistant to spelling rules. Now that Hook was starting him on sentences and he was running into the “stupid words” more often (sometimes several consecutively), he balked at them more. I think it may come to blows when I introduce him to the grammar rules and verb conjugation.
“If you’re going to make a rule about how things work, then you should make it apply to everything! Like ‘i’ before ‘e’ should be the rule, without the ‘except after ‘c’’ and whatever else. And words that are spelled the same should sound the same, but we have words like ‘good’ and ‘food’, and it’s confusing,” Peter continued, refusing to concede his point.
“I don’t care what you think, boy. That’s how it is and that’s how you will learn it!” Hook yelled, losing the last of his patience. He forced himself to breathe and count. When he felt calmer, he continued, “That’s enough reading for now. Put your tablet away.”
“No! I want to finish this,” Peter objected.
“No? I’m sorry, but did you just tell me no?” Hook said calmly.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Peter said quietly. He didn’t want to anger Hook, especially with yesterday’s flogging giving him a reminder at every move of the price of defying the Captain. “I just…” he started to say and stopped.
“Well?” Hook snapped, waiting for Peter to keep pushing the issue.
“I don’t understand why you get so angry when I ask questions. You wanted me to learn, even though I didn’t. Then you got me interested, so now I WANT to learn, but you don’t want me to understand. I think I could remember better if I understood why the rules were made,” Peter finished and looked away, upset. It was frustrating that Hook seemed to only want him to mimic and memorize, when Peter needed to understand.
Hook felt a bit of the frustration leave him as Peter made his point. “You are doing well, Peter. You are a quick learner, but you are quick to forget too,” he explained calmly. “We frustrate each other too easily, which makes it harder for you to learn and for me teach. But now I have a headache, again. I can’t answer your questions about this, because I simply do not know why the rules were made. I only know how it must be done. Believe me, if I knew how the written language evolved, I would pass on that knowledge to you. I’m a pirate, not a schoolmarm. I haven’t the patience for teaching. I never could tolerate children, and the fact that I’ve taught you this much leaves me astounded. I don’t mind your questions, but when you press, it upsets me.”
Peter looked up. “I’m sorry. I-,” he paused in turmoil over what to say. Don’t say that. It’s not true, it’s a wrong way to feel. You don’t owe this bastard anything, the voice he now called Pan said. But it IS true. I don’t know why, but it is how I feel, his Peter voice replied. It’s weak, and you can’t show Codfish any weakness, Pan retorted. But I want him to understand me, Peter wailed.
Hook heard Peter pause, and felt that the boy was struggling with something. “What is it?”
“I want you to be proud of me,” Peter blurted and flushed at the admission. Traitor, Pan thought to himself.
Hook stared at the boy, astonished. He honestly hadn’t known that Peter cared what Hook thought about him. Peter had always made it clear that he cooperated because he had to. But he says he wants to please me? He values my opinion of him? Hook smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. He saw Peter’s face darken and sighed. “I am proud of you. I really am. Nothing in my enterprise worked out how I planned, but I prefer this state of affairs to the way they would have been if things had gone how I planned.”
Peter still said nothing. Inwardly he was chastising himself for yet again compromising himself to satisfy Hook. And it was worse because a part of him eagerly wanted to do it.
“Now on to the matter of your punishment. I promised you extra lessons, so here they are. You will begin combat practice today, and will spend an hour every day doing some form of it, just as the other men do in their free time. You will practice sword play with Starkey or I, gunnery with Jukes, or target practice using guns and knives on your own, after Mullins gives you a lesson in shooting.”
Peter stared at Hook, and suddenly he smiled as he beamed pure happiness. “I can fight again? With you?”
Hook frowned, “Not for real. I don’t quite trust you with a blade, despite today’s incident. So, we will use wooden swords.”
“I don’t care. We can fight again!” Peter’s eyes danced and he could barely sit still.
“Why are you so happy at the prospect of fighting me?” Hook asked suspiciously.
“Because I miss it. We fought almost every day! The most fun I can remember having was challenging you to a fight and winning; or matching wits with you, even though you won a fair share of those. That’s why I liked chess so much last night. Playing anyone else would be boring. I – I just don’t want to fight again like I did today. That wasn’t a challenge, it was just cruel.” Peter’s enthusiasm deflated quite a bit, but not enough to quell his happiness.
Hook nodded, understanding. “Now your other new lesson will be culture, and it will be at least an hour long every other day, with me, more if we have time. You shall learn things such as etiquette, art, literature, and philosophy. You will also spend time learning music, and I would like you to play for the men more often.”
“I already know music,” Peter protested.
“You know how to improvise and mimic. I want you to read and write music.” He pulled Peter’s pipes from a drawer. He laid them on the desk and watched the boy closely. Peter obviously wanted them, but for some reason he held back.
“These are beautiful pipes. I’ve never seen such craftsmanship. It’s like a melding of pan pipes and a flute. Is that why your name is Pan?”
“I don’t know,” Peter replied staring at his instrument. “I don’t know what my real name is.”
“I know your name. Morgan. I was told your mother’s last name was Morgan, so that would be your true name – Peter Morgan. I do not know how you acquired the name Pan.”
“Peter Morgan,” Peter repeated softly. Suddenly his eyes hardened, and he glared at Hook, eyes filled with hate. “Peter Morgan is dead. I killed him. And I will kill this new Peter you’re trying to make. There is only Peter Pan, and I will NOT permit us to be usurped by Peter Hook!” he screamed angrily in fey. Suddenly he felt a blinding pain in his head. He groaned and rubbed his temple with one hand, looking around in confusion. “What?” he said as blood dripped from his nose.
Hook was stunned by this unexpected turn. Peter Morgan… Peter Pan… Peter HOOK? Something is wrong. “Peter?”
“Make him go away,” Peter moaned, “I could be happy here if he went away.”
“Who? Make who go away?”
“Pan…” Peter said and fainted.
Hook felt himself floating again as he looked for Peter’s mind. Something was wrong with the boy, something he had not seen before. If Peter was referring to himself as two or even three different people, it could be a sign of madness. Hook prayed it wasn’t so, but he had to find out what was going on, and this was the only thing he knew to do.
After awhile, he could visualize Peter’s mind. It looked so much better than the last time he had seen it. The nebulous mass was warm and bright, and he could see the swirls and eddies of activity. He also saw the blue sphere that was the memory spell. Surprisingly, the connections between the boy and himself had multiplied. Several new ones, both from him and from Peter, had formed, and Hook felt heartened that Peter was bonding with him. But he noticed an asymmetry, and looked closer. There was an area of Peter’s mind that no connections went to. This area was of a slightly different hue, and it looked as if it had melded badly with the rest of Peter’s mind when it had healed.
He sent a tendril to that area, but it burned him when he touched it. He withdrew quickly, but came away with a disturbing sense. He did not try probing further, fearing that he would do more damage to the boy. Whatever this was, it hated him. Peter’s mind wasn’t fully healed, apparently, and the stresses and turmoil was undoing the healing that had been done. The bonding was making Peter more open to Hook, but this portion of his mind was harboring all the hate and anger at what had been done to him. The captain feared the rift would continue and Peter’s mind would break into two personalities… and this hateful one was not bound by the spell and was sworn to kill him.