Started 6/2/2004

Title: All Hail the Pirate King
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - kidnapped

Where a world long passed into memory, is revisited and rediscovered.

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Author's note: No, this is not a sequel to my previous story, All Because of a Thimble....that is still in the works. This little epic was inspired by something I considered, after it was pointed out to me, during the writing of my previous story. It caught my imagination so I decided to run with it and give it a go. This is another "they've grown up" story....but quite different, I hope, from my previous effort. Also, several passages of this adventure will be violent and of an adult nature. But as you will know from my previous story, I do try to do it all in the 'best possible taste'. So to all those who sent all those wonderfully positive and inspiring reviews for All Because of a Thimble, this is the result. I hope it entertains.

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The rope dropped down and swung against the wall with a faint thump.

Another rope followed the first and a figure started down it, landing lightly on the small balcony that jutted out from the Victorian terrace house, one of many lining a small street in the heart of London town. There were no lights on in the house, or in any of the houses, if one cared to check, for it was the dead of night and, apart from the occasional horse drawn cabbie still plying its trade, all was quiet.

The ship that floated incongruously above the house was also dark. There were no running lights to give it away, its sails furled and tight against the spars, all loose gear stowed away. She was rigged for silent running and her crew moved about her decks with equal silence.

Pulling out a wickedly sharp stiletto, the figure on the ledge slid the blade between the jam of the narrow French windows and slowly lifted the latch on the inside. Careful to make no noise, the intruder pulled the two doors open, giving him access to the room beyond. The occupant of the room remained oblivious to the man stepping stealthily into her chamber, her hand curled loosely on the downy pillow, her hair spread like silken skeins across the counterpane and over her shoulders.

His bare feet noiseless against the thick carpet, the man approached the sleeper, his knife tucked back into his belt, his ears alert to any sound from beyond the door of the room. The moon chose that moment to appear from behind the scattering of clouds, light flooding into the small and tidy room. The man paused, a curse passing his lips, preferring the dark for his nefarious purposes. The moon did him one favour, it cast silver light over the sleeper, illuminating her face, arresting the man in his purpose, as he stood beside her bed and looked down at her.

"My God, but your beautiful."

Hesitantly, as if fighting the urge, the man reached out and lifted one of the ribbons of hair where it lay on her nightdress. Bending down he carried the length of silk to his nose, smelling the faint scent of roses, the strands slipping through his fingers like water. As if sensing his presence, the sleeper parted her lips on a sigh, her fingers, lying relaxed on the pillow, clenching into a soft fist.

His hand still poised over her body, the man froze, only relaxing when it became evident the sleeper wasn't awakening. Her faint sound had drawn his attention to her face, and particularly to her mouth, his own curving into a faint smile as he traced the kissable lips with his eyes. Tempted beyond all common sense, he reached out a finger and traced their outline, her warmth causing his nerve ending to spark and his lungs to draw in a sudden breath.

Behind him another body arrived down the rope and stepped onto the balcony.

"What'sa hold up Captain?"

The man beside the bed turned his head, his hand still poised over the sleepers mouth. A gasp alerted him that the woman had been woken by his importunate companion and was opening her mouth to scream. With the speed of a snake he clamped his hand over her lips, sealing her mouth, his own coming close to her face.

"Don't struggle and don't scream....the life of the people in this house depend on their remaining unaware."

Her eyes were wide and fearful as they flickered between the man an inch from her nose and the other poised beside her window, Wendy nodded her understanding, her fingers ceasing their struggle to remove his hand, her body relaxing fractionally.

"That's better.....Jake, get over here."

Releasing his grip on her face, the man reached behind his back and pulled out a length of rope from his belt. Free for a moment, Wendy sat up and scooted to the other side of her bed, pressing herself up to the wall.

"What do you want?"

The man, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight, chuckled, the sound washing over Wendy and making her skin prickle.

"I would have thought that self evident. I'm kidnapping you."

Unable to see his face, cast as it was in shadow, Wendy stared instead at the man fidgeting in the frame of the window, his face shifting between watching the occupants of the room and whatever was happening outside her window.

"This is takin' too long." The one at the window hissed, drawing the other man's attention for a second. It was all Wendy needed to act. Bracing herself against the wall she launched herself at the man, barrelling into his chest and making him stagger backwards into her bedside table. In a flash Wendy was off her bed and running to the door, her hair and nightdress streaming behind her.

"Look out!" shouted the man at the window, reaching ineffectually to stop her. But he need not have worried, the man beside the bed leapt after her, tackling her and bringing her down to the floor with a thump, their two bodies tangling and wrestling as Wendy fought him with all her might. The only sound were Wendy's heavy breathing and the man's grunts as her knee found a tender spot on his body and her fists connected with his head.

"Stop fighting you termagant!" He growled, managing to capture her flailing arms and pin her hands above her head, before straddling her struggling body with his long legs and holding her still.

"Get off me you oaf!" Her chest heaving, Wendy bared her teeth at the man above her, her body arching as she tried to throw him off.

"Keep that up and I might forget all my good intentions....and take you here, on your own carpet."

As if doused in ice, Wendy froze, her body taut with fear.

"That's better...now do I have to have Jake here manhandle you, or are you going to co-operate?"

"I won't help you abduct me...you...you..."

As she spluttered to find a suitable invective, the man above her found himself unable to resist those inviting lips a moment longer.

Wendy, still trying to find a word that described her attacker, found her mouth suddenly possessed by a pair of incredibly warm and mobile lips, her own moving shamefully apart of their own volition before sanity pricked her and she twisted her head away, breaking the kiss.

"You violator!" she hissed, her chest heaving, a flush darkening her skin.

Finding his own breath a trifle unsteady, the man lifted his leg and moved from covering her body, his hands, still gripping her wrists, hauling her up as he stood.

"So be it."

Before Wendy could draw breath to scream he had quickly bent down and hoisted her over his shoulder, one well muscled arm holding her at the back of her knees, the other administering a hard slap to her backside as she pummelled his back, her hair smothering her as she hung head down.

"Jake....tie her feet and hands, I have a feeling this cat has claws,"

"Aye aye Captain."

Wendy quickly found herself bound hand and foot and a greasy gag wrapped around her face. As a final insult a sack was forced over her head, blinding her, a rope tied around her chest to hold it, and her arms in place. During the whole ordeal she was acutely aware of the arm holding her legs still, the other hand still resting most indecently against her lawn-covered bottom, a thumb idly brushing back and forth across the material.

"All right and tight," announced Jake and Wendy felt herself jolted as the man shifted her on his shoulder.

"Let's not hang about....this has taken far longer than it should."

Blind and trussed like a chicken, Wendy could only guess at where the men were taking her. She had seen the ropes hanging down from the window, assuming that they had entered from the roof. She had to wonder at the strength of the man beneath her as he climbed upwards. It was a mercy she was blind because the view to the pavement, three storeys down, would have made her blanch and quite likely faint in horror. As it was, the trip up the side of the ship proved uneventful and Wendy felt herself lifted from the mans shoulder by several hands, and laid on a hard surface.

"Right, that's the last for tonight. Unfurl the topsail and the mainsail..we've tarried long enough."

She heard many feet running across, what she assumed, was some sort of deck, given the nautical terms used, but her mind simply couldn't fathom how a ship could be so close to her Aunt's house.

"What about her?"

A rough voice jolted her from her musing, her body stiffening at the man's harsh question.

"I'll take care of this one......get the sails trimmed, and weigh anchor, its time to go home. Oh, and Seamus...fetch me my boots."

Wendy recognised the voice of her abductor, his tone firm but authoritative, obviously the leader of the kidnappers.

Hands pulled her body into a sitting position before they hooked under her bent knees and behind her back, lifting her into a man's arms and against his broad chest. She struggled as far as she could, given her bindings and the man shook her as easily as a dog shakes a rabbit.

"Keep still wench, or I might just decide to drop you!" He hissed, his deep voice close to her ear.

Wendy could only make unintelligible noises behind her gag, railing at the man to put her down. He only chuckled, starting to walk with her to goodness knew where. Around them the crew worked to get the ship moving, lifting the anchor from its grip on the roof and unfurling the black sails so that they snapped and strained in the night breeze.

Wendy felt the man carry her down stairs and below decks, the sounds from above becoming hollow and muffled.

"Open the door Brett, I have another for the collection."

"Why not put her in with the others?" A voice asked, the sound of a door opening following his question.

"The rest can be traded but this one...this one....I've yet to decide."

The door closed on the man he'd called Brett, and Wendy found herself deposited, none to gently, on a soft, yielding surface.

"I have to leave you now to attend to my ship.....try to keep out of trouble until I return."

Wendy couldn't manage more than a muffled shriek as a reply, before she heard his footfalls leave the room, the door shutting behind him. Panting, Wendy lay for a moment unmoving, her mind whirling a million miles an hour as she tried to figure out what had just taken place and why it was happening to her.

Rolling herself onto her side, she tested the rope binding her hands. Jake, it would appear, wasn't an expert at knots, her fingers finding the end and managing to push it through a loop. Within a few minutes her hands were pulling apart, her breathing laboured as she tried to breath through her nose and through the enveloping sacking.

Next she attacked the knot that secured the rope about her chest that kept the sacking in place. Once more, diligent plucking loosened the course string and that knot succumbed in due course, Wendy losing a nail in the process but it was a small price to pay for the ability to finally release her head from the smothering sack.

After freeing the gag from her mouth, she fell backwards, exhausted from wrestling with the ropes, gulping in lungful's of fresh, dust-free air. After a few seconds she sat upright once more and set to work on the rope securing her feet. It only took a moment and she threw the offending rope away from her, as if it were a serpent, the sack following, to land on the floor in a heap.

She now had the freedom to survey her surrounding, her fingers reaching up to comb her honey coloured hair away from her incredulous face. Blinking, she stared at the cabin into which she'd been placed. Pushing herself to the side of the bed, she felt the fine linen under her fingers and looking back, she noted the fine linen, plain pillows heaped negligently at its head. The cabin was large, as ship's cabins went, with mullioned lattice windows at one end, containing both plain and coloured glass inserts. The wall with the windows was curved and she surmised the room would occupy most of the rear of the ship. In front of her was a large chart table, its top covered in scrolls of paper, a storm-lantern holding them at one corner. Below the desk were pigeon holes for more rolls of paper. Against the wall beside the bed were several items of furniture, out of the way to leave a clear space around the table. They included a washstand which held a jug and basin, the space underneath holding a chamber pot, next to that were several trunks, one with an ornate padlock. The door to the cabin was in the corner and a quick check confirmed it was tightly locked. Above her head she could here voices shouting commands and many feet obviously running to carry them out. The roof of the cabin wasn't too far above her head and she figured a very tall man would have difficulty standing upright, or at the very least bump his head on the lanterns that swung from the heavy beams. A couple of well padded chairs complete the rooms furniture as she paced the floor, her toes curling in the animal skin rug that covered part of the planking near the bed.

As she stood surveying her, admittedly comfortable, prison, she staggered as the ship heeled to port, the movement violent enough to send her sprawling once more on the bed. Above her head the shouts became louder and the pounding feet more urgent. Again the ship veered, this time to starboard, and Wendy found herself flung towards the chart table where she clutched at its edge to steady herself.

"For heavens sake, don't they know how to steer this boat?"

Pushing herself upright, she cast a meaningful glance at the ceiling before looking down at the charts spread out before her. They all looked old and well used, nautical markings covering the surface of the maps, the islands depicted looking as unfamiliar as the surface of the moon to Wendy's untrained eye. Lifting up several of the sheets, she looked for anything that remotely resemble her limited knowledge of the world but found nothing that came close. None of the maps seemed to have names for any of the land masses depicted nor titles on the maps to help either. Disgusted, Wendy turned away from the charts just as the ship heeled once more to port, sending her staggering against the end of the bed where she clocked her ankle against the wooden support, before tumbling to the floor in a tangle of legs and nightdress.

"I wish you'd make up your mind," she railed at the ceiling as she picked herself up, only to clap her hands over her ears as an explosion sounded close by, deafening her and making her scream.

Another sounded close behind the first, the ship shuddering and groaning under the recoil, Wendy realising they were a volley of cannon fire from the deck below hers.

Shock kept her immobile for a few seconds, then her feet where carrying her to the windows, her wrestle with the catch only lasting a few seconds before the latch gave and she was able to fling it open and lean out. Just as quickly she leaned back inside and gripped the window frame, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

Outside the ship the cool moonlight shone on the clouds several hundred feet below the hull of the ship as it sailed through the night. As she edged closer to the opening, she saw brief views of the ground as it passed below, lights that would have been streetlamps, mere pinpricks lining the roads. A cloud brushed past the window and Wendy felt it's clammy fingers caress her face before she reached out shaking fingers and pulled the window closed with a bang.

"I'm on a ship......flying through the air....." Another barrage from the cannon forced her to clap her hands over her ears again. "Apparently in a battle....I'm going mad."

For Wendy, despite her time spent in Neverland and her adventures within that magical place, had forgotten about it, as children are wont to do when they grow up and become immersed in the day-to-day troubles of becoming an adult. It wasn't her fault and no-one blamed her, in fact her Aunt, despite her inordinate love of the fantastical in her reading choices, actively discouraged any discussion of the time the Darling children went missing over several days and their subsequent return with tales of adventure and mayhem. It was a bit harder to dismiss the Lost Boys but as the years passed, even they no longer appeared to remember their time spent in a place other than their current home. Wendy was now eighteen, as lovely as her mother and as strong willed as it was possible. Her world was only just starting to recover from the horror's of the first world war, the year, nineteen twenty. Women were starting to become active in parliament since obtaining limited rights to vote and Wendy was keen to become involved in the Women's Suffrage movement, despite stiff opposition from her Aunt, and gently reproof from her doting mother. Her father, not called up to the army because of his poor eyesight, had since been promoted to a managerial position at the bank and was quite able to hold his own at most social functions, as long as his lovely wife was there to lend him support and encouragement. In all, the Darling family were among the fortunate not to be marred by the going's on in the world at large, but for Wendy, that only spurred her to greater efforts to make her mark in ways other than as somebodies dutiful wife.

Her memories of her time spent in Neverland did occasional serve as a wonderful source of inspiration for her very vivid dreams, but as dreams are forgotten in the bright light of morning, so her recollection of Neverland seemed as insubstantial, the boy that had brought it to life, only a distant memory, long forgotten.

So it was not entirely surprising that, when called upon to rationalise the facts of a flying ship firing cannon's while hundreds of feet in the air, and her being a kidnap victim of its Captain, Wendy found the whole situation too much to grasp and did what any self respecting and right thinking female would......she fainted dead away, keeping the presence of mind to land on the thick rug that managed to cushion her fall very adequately as she collapsed bonelessly upon it.

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Chapter Two: New Arrival

There's been some changes in Neverland, not least the fact that no-body remembers or appears to remember who they are or were.

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Peter did spare a brief thought for the girl in his cabin, it was just that his attention was rather caught up in the battle raging in the skies around him.

A full moon shone serenely down on the two ships circling each other. Peter stood, feet apart, his sword upraised, ready to give the order to fire as The Shark came around for another broadside. They had been expecting trouble and were fully prepared. Being the youngest Captain in the corsair fleet, Peter had had to fight his way to the top, so being unprepared for the unexpected, was as good as slitting ones own throat.

The enemy were dead to rights and Peter slashed his sword down.

"FIRE!"

Once more the guns on his port side belched fire, the enemy ship taking a pounding, spurts of timber and decking flying into the air when one of the balls made a direct hit. As they watched the opposing ship veered away leaving Peter with the a clear victory. His crew rent the air with shouts and whoops, his lieutenants cheering along with the men.

They hadn't escaped entirely unscathed, some of the opposing fire had downed a spar on the mizzen mast and he set the repairs crew to their posts to start repairs. In all it had been all over in less than an hour, Peter the victor again. With the way clear, he ordered his ship to head for home, leaving the wheel in his first-mates capable hands. Sheathing his sword he headed below decks.

Brett was still stationed outside his cabin door, the dour man nodding to Peter as he approached.

"Checked the cargo...apart from the usual hysterics, they came through fine. I was about to check on the other one."

"I'll see to her....you get below and have a tot of rum, the crew deserve it."

"Right you are, Captain."

Executing an apology of a salute, Brett passed Peter and disappeared down the passageway. Unexpectedly nervous, Peter unlocked the door and stepped into his cabin. His caution was unwarranted. As he entered, he saw the sacking and rope tossed on the floor, his gaze seeking and finding the crumpled form on the bedside rug. Alarmed, he went to her side, bending down on one knee, checking to see if she had been injured somehow. Finding nothing, he scooped her limp form into his arms and carried her onto the bed, her hair spreading over his pillows like tongues of bronze. Leaving her there, he went to one of the chests and opened it, pulling out a clean shirt. Stripping off, he kicked the dirty shirt towards the door before approaching the wash stand and pouring water from the jug into the basin. Bending forward he splashed the tepid water over his head and shoulders, the water trickling down his back and chest. Scooping up a handful of water he rubbed his face, cleaning the sweat and smoke off his skin, pushing back his wet hair, away from his forehead. Drying himself off with the towel provided, he glanced at the still figure on the bed, wondering whether he should wake her, because he wanted to see the colour of her eyes.

Feeling his face, he felt his fingers rasp over stubble. Pulling open a drawer he rummaged for his razor and mirror. Soaping up his cheeks he proceeded to shave, his attention so focused he didn't notice when Wendy opened her eyes, her shocked gaze sweeping his half-naked form before closing again, feigning unconsciousness. She listened to the scrape of the blade against his skin, her own prickling with awareness of him.

Outside the windows, light was starting to stream in as the ship broached the border between the real and the Never worlds, the Neverland sun rising above the horizon as The Shark crested the gold tinted clouds and started her descent to the sea. With the lanterns no longer needed, Peter went around and doused the candles, coming to the one near the bed last. The faint hiss and spit of the wick warned Wendy that the man was near and possibly looking down at her. Keeping her breathing even and steady she waited for him to turn his back. After several seconds she opened her eyes a crack to see him pulling a dark coloured shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling before being covered by cloth. A quick glance around the room apprised her that the man had carelessly left his sword belt on the washstand, a short reach from the bed.

As slowly as possible, her eyes on the man standing with his back to her, Wendy inched off the bed, a rustle of bedclothes betraying her and alerting her kidnapper seconds before her hand reached the hilt of the sword. As her fingers closed over the cool metal, a hand reached out and closed over hers, stopping her from moving.

"I wouldn't advise that....little girls shouldn't play with sharp knives."

"Don't patronise me you.....barbarian,"

Her eyes flashing, Wendy glared at the man, her eyes widening as she felt herself drowning in thickly lashed blue-green eyes that held hers with an equal intensity.

"Blue..." she heard him whisper, jerking her hand from his as he loosened his hold.

"What?"

"Your eyes......blue, like the sky."

Shaking his head, the man stepped back, his arm pointing to one of the chairs.

"Take a seat, we need to talk."

Rubbing her wrist, Wendy raised her chin and ignored his request.

"I don't sit with rabble,"

A laugh greeted her retort, the man standing, relaxed and confident, his hands on his hips as he surveyed her, his eyes sweeping from the top of her head to her toes peeping from the hem of her nightgown.

"If you had any idea where you were, you wouldn't be so hoity-toity,"

Crossing her arms across her chest, unconsciously pulling the material tight against her body, Wendy glared at him, her temper rising.

"Who care's were I am.......I demand you take me back home.....now!"

Buckling on his sword belt, the man continued to smile at her bravado, his long hair swinging forward, its sun-kissed gold a direct contrast with his dark brows and eyelashes.

"That won't be happening. I think an introduction is in order....I'm Captain Pan of the brigantine, The Shark." He swept her a brief sketch of a bow, "my friends call me Peter." A lopsided grin stretched his lips and Wendy felt something ignite inside her.

"Whatever you're called, I don't care, I want to go home."

Ignoring her petulant request, Peter looked at her expectantly, one mobile eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"Oh for heavens sake......my name is.....um......" Wendy racked her suddenly blank brain for a name, other than her own.

"Have you forgotten?" He teased, his hands back on his hips.

"Er....no....its Jill."

"I see.....well....Jill.....you are now my property."

"What!!"

"We will be berthing in port before too long, so I suggest you tidy up here and find something a little less......lightweight to wear. That chest," he pointed to one beside her feet, "should have something you can use."

"I'm not leaving this ship,"

Ignoring her completely, Peter continued, his hands coming up to pull his hair away from his face and tie it back with a length of leather lacing. "I'll be back to collect you in an hour......be ready."

"But......wait......."

"An hour!" he repeated, opening the door and leaving her standing in the middle of the room her mouth open. She heard the key turn in the lock before she unfroze and twisted around looking for something to throw at the door.

Dragging in a calming breath, Wendy sat down on the side of the rumpled bed, her thoughts in a turmoil. Not least the revelation that her abductor was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. For a minute she allowed herself to dwell on his many attractions. His eyes had surprised her, their colour changeable and intriguing, but it was the expression, of approval and apprehension all bound up in a hint of mischief that threw her and made her take a second look. Over all he was a well set up young man, she'd hazard he wasn't that far above her in age, if at all. Admittedly her knowledge of young men was reserved to those specimen's her Aunt had deemed suitable and nothing like the blond Adonis she now had to deal with. His hair, she thought, was overdue for a trim, its length not remotely fashionable, being well below his shoulders, hanging in corkscrew curls the colour of sun-bleached honey. In his ears she'd spied a glint of gold, hinting at earings which marked him as surely a most unusual pirate, not withstanding his strange behaviour in bringing her here and treating her more like a guest than a prisoner. Of course, there was his parting shot about tidying up, which she studiously chose to ignore. He also said she only had an hour to change her attire.

Jumping to her feet, she knelt in front of the chest he'd indicated and pulled it open. Several items of clothing, all male, met her eyes, but on digging down she found several dresses of various colours and designs. Hauling them out she laid them on the bed, her fingers smoothing the creases as she surveyed her choice. Making up her mind she chose the plainest and most austere she could, quite possibly the ugliest dress she'd ever worn in her life. Pulling it over her head she struggled with the laces at the back, managing to reach only half way before giving up. Looking down at her skirts, she smiled, thinking of the Captains' expression when he saw her. Thinking that she still had time, she walked to the window and opened it, leaning out and embracing the cool breeze blowing past the ship's hull at it skimmed over an azure sea. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cry adding a touch of normalcy to a distinctly unusual situation.

"Be careful you don't fall out....the sharks would find you a very tasty morsel."

At the sound of his voice behind her Wendy almost did fall, only the placement of a hard arm around her waist stopped her, pulling her back to stand on very shaky legs, her back pressed against his front.

"Did you have to sneak up on me like that?"

"I don't usually knock at my own cabin door. And you haven't tidied up."

"I'm not a skivvy to do your dirty work...get yourself a maid."

"I thought I had."

The arm was removed and Wendy almost cried out at the loss. Her teeth chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself. As she made to turn around, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"You haven't finished dressing......allow me."

Mortified, Wendy stood stock still as Peter tossed her hair over her shoulder and finished lacing her dress.

"All done," he breathed against her ear, making her blush. After taking a moment to calm herself, Wendy swung around, her mouth opened to object only to find him with his back to her, hunched over the chart table, his mind already turned to other things.

Piqued that he hadn't made a comment, good or bad, on her dress, Wendy walked slowly over and came to stand beside the table.

"What places are these maps for? I looked at them and couldn't recognise any of them."

"Do you make a habit of reading navigational maps?"

"Well.....no, but I'm sure I've never seen any islands like these in an atlas."

"That's not surprising.....these are the island of Neverland. It's an archipelago, a series of small islands with this as the largest. It's where we'll be berthed for the rest of today and possibly overnight."

Wendy had followed his long fingers as he pointed out the islands on the map, her interest as much on the map, as on him.

Straitening up, Peter rolled the map up and tied the ribbons to keep it furled, it was then he took a closer look at her dress.

"So, you felt the need to draw attention to yourself."

"No....quite the opposite actually."

"Then you are in for a considerable surprise."

Not understanding, Wendy could only raise her chin a fraction higher and look down her nose at him.

"What exactly are you going to do with me?"

Peter looked her over again, his mouth curving into a rueful smile. If he had his way he'd keep her in his cabin, and in his bed, and to hell with Hook and his tribute. But duty called, so Peter squashed his more licentious thoughts and pinned a bland smile on his face.

"For starters......we're going ashore."

As if on cue, the ship's hull ground against the bollards lining the wharf, her crew throwing lines to the stevedores to secure her to the dock. Peter tucked the rolled map under his arm and reached for Wendy's hand, pulling her reluctantly behind him as he opened the door and left the cabin, his long strides forcing Wendy into a trot to keep up. As they climbed the steps to the main deck, they heard the first mate calling instructions to the crew to furl the sails and start unloading the cargo. As Wendy appeared on deck she shielded her eyes against the bright morning sun, the crew bustling around her as if she didn't exist. Peter released her hand, turning to answer a question from one of his lieutenants, leaving her to wander to the ships rail and get her first glimpse of Port James and the surrounding settlement of Hooktown.

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Chapter Three: Changes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: I felt the need to warn my readers that this story is alot earthier than my previous. It is a story about Pirates, Peter being one of them, and if you know anything about pirates and the life they lead, you will know it is not a nice life, full of death, mayhem and loose women. For the purposes of this story, Peter is one hundred percent a pirate, with all their vices and pirate urges. That will change as the story progresses, but for now he is not a very nice person all the time. As a pirate, he is a lovable rogue....but a rogue, none the less. You have been warned. Wendy is in for a rough ride, before love conquers all. Oh, and apologies to the purist, among you. I have put the date forward ten years from my previous story, (set in 1914 this story as apposed to 1904) to bring Wendy into the age of the Suffrage movement. Apologies if that irks, but I needed that extra ten years....okay, I'm off to write, enjoy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wendy leant on the ships rail and inhaled deeply, smells of brine, fish and smoke combining to create an intoxicating aroma unique in her experience. Below her, men worked to unload various items of cargo, lifting the boxes in nets to lower to the dock.

"Bring the women out!"

At the shout, Wendy swung around. From the hatch leading to the hold a parade of women, young and old, started to emerge, holding their hands up to shield their eyes from the sun. Wendy stared, fascinated and horrified, as the women were herded towards the gang-plank and led off the ship. Turning back to the rail she watched as they trailed off and disappeared into a warehouse set off to the right of the jetty.

"They're being taken to be indentured. The term is usually two years then they are given the choice to stay....or leave."

Peter's voice sounded flat and dismissive and Wendy glanced at his profile as he leant on the rail beside her, his eyes swivelling to meet hers.

"Was I supposed to go with them?"

"Yes."

"Why aren't I?"

"Because I choose differently."

"I don't understand any of this, Captain Pan. Why did you take me away from my home.....how did you know I was there in the first place?"

"I didn't........a fairy picked you."

"What?...I don't belie.." In a flash his hand covered her mouth, stopping the words from being finished. Wendy's eyes stared at him over the edge of his hand, her breath warm on his palm.

"Don't ever say that........we need the fairies, particularly their fairy dust. Without it we can't fly the ships and plunder your world."

When he removed his hand, she licked her lips, her eyes stormy.

"You say that as if it's a good thing to plunder. It's a dreadful thing...you steal people away from their homes, steal goods without paying....you're nothing but a...a...pirate!"

Peter let go a short bark of laughter, his eyes sparkling.

"That's exactly what I am......you little fool. It's what we all are."

Looking around, Wendy saw that her conversation with Peter had been overheard by a great many of the crew, all of which took great pleasure in grinning at her in a most horrid way, some even winking, before carrying on with their work.

"We are all pirates here in Neverland, Jill. There is no other occupation."

"It's wicked......you can't go around kidnapping people. It's wrong and awful and.....I hate you!" Flying at him, Wendy pummelled his chest with her fists, tears blinding her as the crew looked on and laughed. Letting her vent some of her pent up emotions, Peter remained impassive as she tried to inflict some hurt upon him, but after a few seconds he grasped her hands, stilling them and bringing them together within his own, forcing her to stand still or suffer the indignity of having the crew witness her futile struggle against his superior strength. Tear's still trickled down her face, her hair hiding some of her distress from spurious onlookers.

"You have a choice Jill," Peter spoke softly, for her ears alone. "You can start a new life here, within this world...with me." Wendy looked up, startled, her eyes huge in her pinched face.

"Or ?"

"Or.......I can take you down the gang-plank and hand you over to one of the proprietress waiting on the dock and visit you on the odd occasions when I'm in port. Of course, when I'm not available, you will be forced to earn your living.....in ways, I assure you, you won't find very palatable. With your looks....you'll be kept very busy....very, very busy."

Shocked to her boots, if she'd been wearing any, Wendy could only stare mutely at him, her limbs trembling as the full import of her situation crashed brutally in on her. Peter still held her hands, his thumb absently caressing her numb fingers as he waited for her decision. Closing her eyes, she swayed and he instantly drew her against his chest, hiding her face from the crowd on the ship and on the dock. She could hear his heartbeat under her cheek and the sound, so sure and steady, instilled some small kernel of hope. As she stood, sheltered for a brief moment in his arms, she wondered if other women had been given the same choices as she was being asked, and she wondered what their answer had been.

His hands on her shoulders pushed her away from his warmth, leaving Wendy feeling bereft, her see-sawing emotions beyond her comprehension.

"What is your answer Jill?"

"I choose.....I choose.....you."

Hiding the exultation that threatened to burst from his chest, Peter merely grinned smugly and pulled her back against his chest, his arms holding her loosely as she capitulated, too overset for defiance.

"We have to go into town to complete the paperwork, then I have to report to Hook. Then I'll show you the town and we can celebrate."

"Celebrate ?"

Peter grinned at her baffled expression, her eyes as blue as sapphires.

"It's not every day that a pirate Captain chooses a wife....it's an occasion for celebration."

"A wife?" Wendy managed faintly, her body going rigid in his embrace.

"Of course.......what did you think I meant?"

"A WIFE?"

"You said that already.....now come on......we have to sort out the paperwork. Then I want to get you something a little less......ugly to wear."

"But I can't be your wife......I don't even know you."

"You were ready to become my mistress......so be thankful. I don't choose just anybody to be a wife."

At his mention of a mistress, Wendy blushed bright red, his bluntness beyond her ability to dissemble.

"I think you're completely mad."

"Yes.....but you'll learn to love me anyway."

Outraged at his conceit and overweening ego, Wendy swung her hand up to slap the grin off his face but Peter was quicker, using her momentum to twist her arm behind her back and bring her flush against the hard wall of his chest, her face only inches from his. Arched against him, as she was, Wendy could only glare daggers at the handsome devil, her face still flushed and hectic.

"How about a kiss for your husband?" Peter whispered, his eyes darkening to a stormy green, his heart beating a rapid tattoo against her own.

"Don't you dare."

"Never dare a pirate...it makes it irresistible."

Dipping his head, Peter captured her lips with his, his experienced mouth drawing a response from her that shook her to her core.

Whistles and catcalls sounded from the dock and the ship, but the couple at the rail remained oblivious, caught up in a moment that transcended the mundane and transported them to heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Captain Pan!"

A hail from the dock broke the couple apart, Peter pulling away first, Wendy completely overwhelmed and dizzy with feelings she had no vocabulary for.

The man on the dock waved again and Peter put Wendy gently from him, leaning over the rail and shouting to the man below.

"Marcus.....when did you get into town?"

"Last night......I looked for you at the Temple but they said you only just docked?"

"Stay there...I'll be right down."

Taking a firm hold of Wendy's hand, Peter pulled her over to where his first mate was directing the final unloading before replenishing supplies.

"Seamus, I'll leave you to complete the....transaction. If you need to get a hold of me leave a message at the Temple. I'll return there when my business is complete."

"Right you are Captain."

Still unresisting, Wendy allowed Peter to lead her down the gangplank and onto the deck, her expression befuddled as she raised her free hand to touch her swollen lips. Peter released her hand just before embracing and slapping the back of the man he'd called Marcus. Wendy looked up into eyes as green as emeralds, under a shock of prematurely white hair, as long as Peter's, but straight. In dress, Marcus was all pirate, from the bandanna on his head and gold hoops in his ears, to his bucket boots with gold tassels. Wendy found herself being scrutinised by the stranger and for once wished she'd chosen differently than her snuff-coloured ugly sack dress.

"And who is this flower of womanhood and when do I get my turn?" Marcus leered.

Wendy immediately coloured up as Peter laughed, his hand coming to rest on his friends shoulder, his fingers digging deep, drawing Marcus' attention back to him.

"This is Jill.....and we are on our way to be married."

Startled, Marcus looked into Peter's face, steely sea green meeting vivid emerald. Recovering from his surprise, Marcus grinned at Peter and punched him lightly.

"You old dog....does Hook know?"

"He'll be told.....after we're married."

"Aaaah....you always were a canny customer. So this is to be your wife." Marcus perused Wendy, his eyes undressing her "....not up to your usual taste."

Wendy felt anger start to well up in her breast, burning away the bemusement from that devastating kiss.

"Don't talk about me as if I wasn't here." She demanded, her eyes flashing as she lifted her chin haughtily. "If you don't like what you see, then that's fine....I'm not marrying you!"

Suppressing a snort, Peter covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes full of mirth as his friend gaped.

"You'll find that Jill has a mind of her own." Peter told him, his eyes brimming with laughter.

"And a mouth to go with it.....I wish you luck." Marcus retorted, a crooked smile tilting his swarthy features as he sketched Wendy a bow.

Goaded by his sardonic look, Wendy turned her head away, suddenly fascinated by something further along the dock. Marcus exchanged a loaded look with Peter before falling in on Peter's other side as they walked along the wharf towards the town. Peter pulled Wendy's hand into the crook of his arm and drew her close to his side, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Marcus is a friend and business partner, I will expect my wife to welcome him in future."

"Then make sure he grows some manners." Wendy hissed back, a bland smile pinned to her face.

As they walked past the warehouses and taverns that bordered the seaward side of the town, Wendy could only gape at the number of people milling around the shops and bawdy houses, all crammed together with no sensible plan, that lined the main street leading up towards, what looked like, a town hall at the top of the hill. The noise and smell were incredible. Wendy shrank closer to Peter's side as she found herself jostled by pirates and town's people on all sides, her eyes darting from the half-dressed prostitutes shrieking with laughter at the customers crowding around their doorways, to the vendors selling everything from a pin to an elephant, figuratively speaking, from barrows and stalls on every corner and kerb. Peter and Marcus kept up a steady patter of conversation about business and news, about their many and varied customers and acquaintances. It left Wendy to stare at the strange sights as they slowly made their way up the King's Row, as a jaunty sign proclaimed it to be, when they'd first entered the street. She noticed that the people seemed to be dressed in every period of costume, the men sporting old-fashioned periwigs, or cavalier broad-brimmed hats, beside women wearing wide crinolines and other, the bustle. Almost universally, the clothes were bright and loud, reminding Wendy that Peter had said she would draw attention in the dress she'd chosen. He had been right, her plain sack dress completely out of place among the birds of paradise that inhabited Hooktown.

As the crowds thinned, Peter steered them towards a house set back from the road, its appearance as higgledy piggledy as the rest but with an air of sobriety at odds with the more licentious entertainments available, only two door away. A sign swung above its front door proclaiming the occupant as one Josiah Fishbourne, Solicitor at Law and Justice of the Peace.

Peter knocked and a small man answered.

"Yes?"

"I am Captain Pan and I'm here to get married."

"Oh...right...yes of course Captain...most gratified to see you back. Please come this way, I'll inform the master you're here."

Bowing the visitors in, the little man closed the door behind them before waving them into a small parlour.

"Would the young lady like some refreshment?"

"No....thank you, we just wish to conduct our business as soon as possible."

"Of course......won't be a moment."

When the door closed behind him, Wendy rounded on Peter.

"Well I would have liked something to eat or drink, I haven't had any breakfast this morning."

"There's plenty of time for that, after we've settled everything."

"You seemed to be in an inordinate hurry to be married....one would almost think that there's something you're not telling me."

A muffled snort from Marcus, in the corner, drew Wendy's eyes for a moment before she fixed them on Peter's blandly innocent countenance.

"As you said yourself, we don't know each other....once we're married we can take all the time in the world to explore." Peter replied.

Another snort from Marcus made Wendy want to stamp her foot.

"But...." Wendy started only to be interrupted by the opening of the parlour door.

"Mr.Fishbourne will see you now."

The secretary led the small party to a back room, where a large man wearing a very small wig, sat behind a desk, papers heaped haphazardly across its surface.

"Captain Pan to see you sir."

"Come in, come in...welcome on this happy occasion."

Josiah waved his visitors in, dusting off a chair for Wendy and shaking Peter and Marcus' hands. With the formalities over, Josiah picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Peter.

"I think you'll find this all in order Captain...its the usual thing, covers all the salient points of the contract. I just need your signature and that of the young lady on the two copies."

Wendy, watching from the chair set a little way back from the desk, tried to peer around Marcus to see the papers Peter was carefully perusing.

"Seems all in order.....pen?"

"This way sir.....and of course, there is the usual remuneration."

"Of course." Peter pulled a small drawstring pouch from inside his shirt and threw it to the smiling solicitor, before bending down and scratching a quill across the bottom of the papers. He then turned to Wendy. "You need to sign here."

Getting to her feet, Wendy slowly approached the desk, ignoring the avuncular smile on Josiahs face and the cynical one on Marcus's. Peter's face was unsmiling, his eyes dark and unfathomable as she took the quill from his hand and bent over the documents. She paused for a moment, taking in the elaborate writing heading the first, proclaiming it to be a marriage contract. With shaking fingers she carefully signed her name as Jill Darling beside Peter's signature. It was all happening too fast for her to take in. Peter plucked the quill from her nerveless fingers and gently pushed her back to her chair where she plumped down rather suddenly.

"There then.....all done, right and tight. Congratulations Captain Pan, we figured it had to happen some day. I'm sure you and the young lady...ur...Jill," Josiah peered short-sightedly at the documents, "will be very happy."

Peter shook his hand then turned to Marcus. "Congratulate me, I'm a married man!"

"More fool you, my friend......better to love 'em and leave 'em. You won't hoodwink Hook."

"I don't have to....I'll have this to safeguard her." Peter waived his copy of the contract in Marcus's face.

"Then I hope she's worth it."

Wendy sat as still as a statue, her face calm, a single tear falling to land on her tightly clasped hands where they lay in her lap. Looking down at the small spot of water, she lifted it to her lips and tasted it, her tongue darting out to moisten her mouth.

Peter walked over and crouched down beside her, looking into her face, his lips once more curved into a smile.

"It's time to go....wife."

Wendy wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and smiled tremulously at him. Peter felt his heart twist in his chest.

"Oh.....can I have some breakfast now ?"

Chuckling, Peter stood up, drawing Wendy up beside him, once more tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

"Yes wife, we can go and get something to eat....a wedding breakfast no less."

Bidding farewell to the solicitor and his secretary, the small party left the house and started back down the street towards the hustle and bustle of Hooktown. They turned down an alleyway that was cool after the hot main street, the houses almost bending inwards to shade the pedestrians. Several signs hung out into the narrow alley, proclaiming their business and Peter stopped at one that had a drawing of a tankard on the sign, with the name The Temple written below. Inside, the tap room was dark with candles spaced around the room, shedding gold light over the dingy furnishing. A less likely place to hold a wedding breakfast Wendy had yet to see. Peter steered her to a corner table and they had barely sat down when the proprietor approached, rubbing his hands on his mostly clean apron.

"What can I do for your folks?"

"A bottle of your finest and a spread worthy of a wedding breakfast," Peter announced, his arm draping across the back of Wendy's chair.

"Right you are then.......coffee for the lady?"

"Tea please," Wendy spoke for herself before Peter could answer.

"Right you are.....I'll have my good lady show you to a room to refresh yourself, if you care to come this way ma'am."

"Thank you." Getting to her feet, Wendy followed the man out of the taproom and along the dimly lit passageway. There they were met by the man's wife, who bobbed a curtsy before showing Wendy the retiring room.

The landlord returned to the taproom and placed a tall bottle on the table with some glasses between Peter and Marcus. He then went behind the bar and pulled two tankards of beer for the men and something else for Wendy, putting them on the table as well.

Peter and Marcus lifted the tankards and clinked them together in a toast before taking a draught.

"He won't like it, it could cost you dearly."

"You worry too much Marcus. If it keeps her out of his reach, then the cost is worth it."

"What is it about this girl.....you've been running slaves for the past year and never contemplated marrying any of them...bed them yes...take your pleasure...but not marry them."

"There's something about her....its like trying to remember a dream, but she reminds me of someone....it's like an itch I can't scratch."

Marcus slapped Peter on the shoulder, his teeth bared in a wicked grin. "You can scratch it anytime you like now......she's yours, lock, stock and barrel!"

"I am very aware of that Marcus, so keep your voice down and your opinions to yourself."

Burying his face in his tankard, Marcus drank deeply, wiping the froth off on his sleeve. "I sincerely hope for your sake, her body is as beautiful as her face....its hard to tell under that dreadful frock!"

"Shut up Marcus....." Peter growled, unable to help a grin from spreading across his face as he contemplated that inescapable fact.

Wendy entered at that point and the two men schooled their features, so well, in fact, that Wendy regarded their bland smiles with a great deal of misgiving. Sitting down, she picked up the pewter tankard that Peter pushed towards her, cautiously taking a sip. It was plain lemonade. Grateful not to have to down the frothy beer the other's were drinking, Wendy drained her mug thirstily. The landlord arrived with a tray of tea for her, which he set on a small table beside her, and a maid followed with plates of hot food which she set before the men. Wendy was given a daintier plate filled with small portions of a variety of foods, all of which made her stomach growl appreciatively.

"Ring the bell when you're finished gents, ma'am."

Leaving them to their breakfast the landlord shooed the maid out and shut the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter: Four - Hooked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the end of the breakfast, Peter popped the cork on the tall bottle and splashed the golden liquid into the three glasses arrayed before him. He passed one to Wendy and one to Marcus.

Lifting his, he proposed a toast.

"To my wife....may we have a long and...interesting life together."

Grinning, he chinked his glass against Wendy's before repeating the gesture with his friend. Wendy only sipped at her wine, finding it strong and the bubbles ticklish. Peter downed his and poured another. Marcus climbed to his feet, his sword clattering against the chair leg as he staggered slightly.

"Well Peter......I have to see that the loading of the Saucy Wench is going according to plan. The last time I left it to Smithy, he put everything in the wrong place and we heeled over when we tried to leave the harbour."

"Thank you for your company Marcus.....we'll catch up before you sail."

"That we will." The two men clasped hands before Marcus turned to Wendy. He reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss upon her fingers. "If you ever get tired of this boy....you only have to ask and I'll gladly find a space in my bunk...er my ship for you."

Snatching her hand back, Wendy could only glare at Marcus as he leered at her, his expression hidden from Peter as he bowed.

With a wave, Marcus left them, and Wendy felt relieved, despite the turmoil of her emotions as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact she was married to the stranger sitting next to her. Peter had watched the exchange between his friend and Jill and felt something rise up inside, a vision popping into his head of him knocking his friend across the room. Smiling at his own fancy, Peter rose to his feet and held out a hand to his wife.

"Lets get you something to wear...there's bound to be a shop around here that'll suit."

"I'm not wearing anything like those.....doxy's down by the waterfront."

"That's a shame," Peter teased, wanting to see her rise to the bait.

"You are insufferable......"

"And you are gullible...now still your shrewish tongue and lets go find a dress befitting a Captains wife!"

After settling the bill, Peter tucked her hand once more in the crook of his arm and set off further down the alleyway. Wendy felt acutely aware of the hard arm that flexed under her fingers, his warmth radiating out to engulf her. They stopped in front of a shop with a bay window, displaying a dress on a mannequin. Wendy peered at the dress, her eyes noting its old fashioned design, but her feminine sensibilities noting the beautiful colour and pretty trimmings. Peter was quick to notice the smile that curved her full lips and he moved to enter the shop. Wendy followed, her curiosity piqued. Inside, they were greeted by a tiny woman in a black dress who introduced herself to Wendy as Madame Celeste then waved them both to a row of spindly chairs, which Peter regarded with serious misgivings.

"Would madam care to step behind the curtain and we will see what madam likes?"

Receiving a nod from Peter, Wendy followed the sprightly lady behind the curtain, finding herself in a large dressing room. The tiny dressmaker pulled out a rack of dresses swathed in muslin.

"If madam would care to step out of her.......attire, we will begin with this." She swept the dust sheet off one of the dresses and Wendy gasped.

"Oh that's beautiful.." she breathed, stepping forward to touch the multi layered blue dress that floated on its hanger. It had a crossed-over bodice and elbow length sleeves. There was minimal trimmings, just a narrow band of sparkling crystal brocade around the neckline and sleeves. Wendy turned around to give Madame Celeste access to undo the laces at her back which allowed her to step out of the ugly sack dress. Wendy now stood in only her nightdress. Madame indicated for her to remove that as well but she clutched at it, casting a glance back at the curtain, behind which Peter sat impatiently.

"Captain Pan knows the rules....he will wait for you to appear before moving."

"He's been here before?"

"Oh many times.....you are a lucky woman to have captured the attention of such a man."

"I'm his wife," Wendy whispered, realising that the woman thought she was another of his mistresses. The tiny woman beamed at her, her eyes twinkling.

"Then we must make sure you have a wardrobe that keeps his attention only on you. He is....a vigorous man, and you will need to use all your wiles to keep him."

"You seem to know an awful lot about the Captain."

"I have known Peter since he was a young boy, before all this was even here." Celeste swept her arm in a wide arc, "I was one of the first to arrive and Peter was kind to me."

"What was he like?"

"Peter? He was full of cheekiness and fearless bravado. You never saw a child with such a zest for life and living. As he grew he became only more so, his courage in the face of overwhelming odds gave him the edge and enabled him to rise in the ranks so quickly. You know that he is the youngest Captain of the corsairs?" She made a moue when Wendy shook her head. "Well, he was and is....you don't keep this rabble at bay with nothing up here." Celeste tapped her head.

"Now...Madame Pan.....let us get you into this dress and see what sort of reaction we get. I think we might have a few surprises for the Captain this day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter fretted, his boots leaving scuffs upon the thin carpet as he fidgeted. He could hear the murmur of voices behind the concealing curtain and he wondered if he'd been entirely sensible in bringing Jill to Celeste, knowing, as she did, most of his short history.

The sound of the curtains parting made him lift his head, his lips parting on a gasp as a vision stood before him.

Wendy stood nervously awaiting his reaction. Celeste had lightly dressed her hair so it hung over her shoulder in a single long curl and rested against her bosom. The dress encased her slim body in layers of blue chiffon, the material overlapping her like waves, each layer a shade lighter than the last as it dropped from the bodice all the way to her toes. It was reminiscent of the Grecian style favoured a century before, but Wendy didn't care, she just wanted Peter to like it.

Peter had risen to his feet, his eyes glued to her, a smile brimming on his mobile lips, his hands coming up to rest in their familiar place on his hips.

"Now that is definitely an improvement. Celeste, you've outdone yourself.......we'll take it."

"I never doubted it cherie. But your good lady can't live in one dress alone.....she needs a wardrobe. This is fine for a special occasion but she can't wear that on the high seas."

"True....what else have you got?"

Celeste noted with satisfaction that Peter hadn't removed his gaze once from the figure of his wife, his conversation with Celeste purely an aside.

"Take a seat Peter....I have no appointments this morning, I will see what I can find. You are in luck, your friend Marcus delivered a new cargo only yesterday. Go take a seat.....we won't be but a moment."

Wendy had remained silent throughout the conversation, her heart thumping as she stared straight ahead, as still as the mannequin in the window. She had seen the arrested expression on Peter's face at her appearance and was secretly thrilled that he approved so heartily with Celeste's choice. She wasn't so thrilled that Peter had apparently had a string of mistresses that had all worn his clothes on their backs. She watched Peter return to his seat, smirking unashamedly and she felt again the overwhelming desire to smack the smile off his face as Celeste led her away to try on another dress.

The next two hours passed in a parade of dressed and blouses and skirts until Wendy felt ill from pulling so many clothes on and off. The last set was a pretty embroidered cream-coloured blouse that left her shoulders bare, the sleeves a sheer organza that ended in a ruffle at the wrist. This was tucked into a russet skirt that draped softly and ended just above her ankles. When she turned the material swirled around her legs with a whisper. Wendy loved it. Celeste had wrapped up all the clothes into neat bundles, including several sets of underclothes as well as a negligee that made Wendy blush just to think about it. As Peter arranged the details of Celeste's account, Wendy stood by the shop window and watched the people pass. Across the narrow lane she noticed a man standing in a doorway, a knife in his hand that he used to pick at his nails. His appearance wasn't particularly odd, but every now and then he would send a piercing glance towards the shop front, as if expecting someone to appear. Dismissing it as a product of her overactive imagination, Wendy turned from the window to see Peter striding towards her, his face alight with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"At this rate, I'll need to plunder all of London to pay for your new wardrobe."

"Oh.....I never thought......do you want to return these?"

Taken aback, Peter laughed again. "No....silly chit, I'm not poor..maybe not as plump in the pocket after paying Celeste, but I'm certainly not under the covers quite yet."

Picking up the various sized packages, Peter left the shop with Wendy behind him. As they turned left to return to the main thoroughfare, Wendy glanced behind her and saw the man in the doorway start to follow. Uneasy, but telling herself it was just coincidence, she followed Peter's broad back as he threaded his way through the crowd. When they reached the King's Row they turned right and started back towards the waterfront, Wendy holding onto Peter's sword belt to prevent being separated from him in the crush. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the man continued to follow.

As she was about to tap Peter on the shoulder and alert him a trumpet fanfare sounded and the people around them surged forward, almost carrying Wendy away, her grip on his belt her lifeline. Unable to fight the flow of people, Peter and Wendy followed along, despite it taking them away from the docks and towards the town hall. They found themselves over to one side of the main road, the population now lining the thoroughfare, six deep in places.

"What are we waiting for?"

"King James is about to pass, and we must pay homage."

Surprised at the bitter tone of his voice, Wendy glanced up at his face before turning her attention to the procession wending its way down the street. As the crowd shifted she found herself standing in front of Peter, her back to his front, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, their parcels around their feet. His hands on her skin felt warm and comforting, his thumb sweeping in gently circles against the skin of her nape. It felt heavenly.

A roar of sound started to wash over the crowd as whoever was approaching came closer, Wendy standing on tiptoe for the best view. She needn't have worried, King James Hook wanted all his subjects to have the best possible view of their ruler, to that end he had a palanquin that raised him up so high that everyone could see his magnificence and be suitably awed. Wendy thought he looked very uncomfortable. Having no horses in Neverland and the road too narrow for a carriage, the palanquin was carried by eight hugely muscled black Nubians, their bodies oiled and clothed in red to match the furnishing on the dais. Hook was dressed all in black with silver belt buckles and lace trim, his dark hair falling in carefully oiled, glossy curls about his shoulders and down his back. On his head a cavalier hat sat cheekily to the side, the plump ostrich feathers nodding as the palanquin swayed. In all, it was a sight Wendy would long remember.

As Hook passed, his ice-blue eyes spotted Peter in the crowd, his gaze travelling down to take in the girl standing before him, Peter's hands resting on her shoulders. Smiling thinly, Hook called for the procession to stop. Peter's hands tightened on Wendy's shoulders as his name was called out by the man in black.

"Stay here and don't move," Peter told her, his mouth close to her ear. She nodded, uneasy at the stare the King was sending her way. Peter threaded his way through the crowd, his blond head a direct contrast with the Kings dark countenance.

"Your majesty?"

"You know the rules of plunder as well as any man, Pan. No man may have his pick of the booty until I've seen for myself, and had first choice."

"I am well away of that, your majesty."

"And yet you parade that doxy, fresh off the boat, for all the world as if she were yours already?"

"She is mine.....Jill is my wife."

"Oh come now.......you only docked a couple of hours ago, and you were not married last night."

"Correct as always, your majesty. But we are married..that is a fact." Peter produced the copy of the marriage contract Josiah had given him. The seal irrefutable.

Thwarted, Hook narrowed his eyes at the young man standing so confidently in front of him. He flicked them over to the girl waiting in the crowd, his gaze drinking in her untouched beauty and obvious innocence, his blood starting to heat at the thought of possessing her.

"Then Pan.....I invoke the right of droit-de-seigneur, and claim the first night with your...bride."

A collective gasp escaped from the people in the crowd close enough to hear the conversation between Peter and King Hook. Peter blanched, his lips pressing into a thin line. Wendy could only look on helplessly as people turned to stare at her, their eyes holding an unholy mixture of pity and glee, as if they scented blood.

"You have no right to claim this," Peter replied, his face set and angry. "Jill is my wife and you will have to kill me before I'll let you lay a finger on her."

Hook only laughed, his lips curling into a sneer.

"I have only needed an excuse to have you removed Pan...and you have provided it through your foolish recklessness. I will see you hang for your impudence.....take him away!"

As Peter fought to draw his sword, three of the Nubians surrounded him, their hands laying hold of Peter's arms, the third encircling his neck as he struggled. Wendy cried out and started forward but found herself similarly detained by two more of Hook's guards.

"Bring the wench forward......we would have a closer look at our prize."

Wendy found herself dragged through the crowd, her feet barely touching the cobblestones. Hook had risen and stepped down delicately to the roadway, his silver shoe buckles flashing in the bright sun. Peter struggled against his restrainers but could do little but try and catch his wife's eye as she passed him. For a brief moment he succeeded and a wealth of emotion passed between them before Wendy found herself pulled passed him and forced to kneel in front of the King.

As she was released she fell forward onto her hands, her honey gold hair falling over her shoulders and hiding her face. Hook indicated for her to be brought upright and Wendy found herself face to face with the Pirate King. She had noticed that the King appeared to hold his right hand rather stiffly and she now realised that the hand, enclosed in an embroidered gauntlet, was, in fact, false. He raised his left hand to his mouth and held the leather tip of one finger in his very white teeth as he pulled the glove off to reveal a perfectly manicured hand. Taking the glove out of his mouth, he tucked it into his belt before taking a step towards her. During the whole process he had kept her enthralled with his unblinking, snakelike stare. Now she felt herself shrinking back, finding herself blocked by the mountain like Nubians, as Hook reached his hand out to touch her face.

"Don't flinch my dear......I only want to see if your skin is a smooth as it looks."

Bracing herself, Wendy tried to still her natural urge to run, as Hook gently stroked the back of his fingers down her face. Peter growled low in his throat and renewed his struggle, his back arching, but to no avail, the guards held him tight, the arm around his neck almost choking him.

Hook continued his inspection of Wendy's features, the crowd around them as silent as the grave, mute witness to the public display of the Pirate King's ultimate power over them all.

Still maintaining his eye contact, Hook lifted Wendy's hair away from her shoulder, running its length through his fingers, rubbing the strands as if testing for ripeness.

Lastly he gripped Wendy's chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting her head up. Peter felt a red rage lend strength to his arms and he managed to throw off one of the Nubians, his head hitting back to head butt the man behind, blood spurting from the mans nose. With a roar Peter freed his throat, twisting round to throw the last man off his arm, his free hand ripping his sword from his scabbard, the stiletto from his belt. To Wendy it all happened in slow motion, her eyes swivelling to Peter's as he disposed of the guards, their black bodies hitting the ground with wounds spurting blood. Hook swung his head to look and shouted to his remaining men to kill Peter, his grip on Wendy slipping as she pulled away from him.

Swivelling on her heel she prepared to run, Hook hand reaching out and snagging her hair before she managed to free herself, reaching the relative safety of the crowd who parted for her, like water around a rock. Peter now held the remaining guards at bay, his teeth bared, his hair loose around his face. In one hand he held a wickedly long rapier, its basket hilt flashing as he swung the blade in an arc to keep the guards at bay, in his other he held his long-bladed knife, keeping it held away from his body to protect his flank. He saw Jill disappear into the crowd and also saw Marcus stop her headlong flight, a cloak swinging around her shoulders and over her head to hide her as Marcus whisked her away to safety. With Jill safe, Peter focused his attention on saving his own skin.

Hook was screaming at his guards to kill Peter, but the Nubians had a healthy respect for Peter's swordsmanship, keeping themselves just beyond the flashing steel.

"You'll pay Pan.....I'll have your ship and your life for this!"

"You'll have to catch me first Hook......"

With his eyes flicking between the guards and his flank, Peter edged his way slowly backwards, the gap between Hook and himself ever widening.

"You won't get far.....I'll hunt you to the ends of Neverland if I have to!" Hook hissed, his good hand curling into a fist to shake at Peter.

"Then I'll see you there....your majesty!"

Raising his sword, Peter gave Hook a mocking salute before diving into the spectators lining the road, their bodies blocking the guards as they rushed to follow.

Hook railed at the crowd, his eyes venomous as the people started to melt away, leaving Hook and his palanquin surrounded by dead guards, stranded in the dust of the road.

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Chapter Five : On the Run

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's note: Just a slight warning, this is a "Peter and Wendy make out" chapter. Always its done with as much restraint as deemed necessary without losing all the passion, but some may take offence, so be warned. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter sheathed his sword but kept his knife in his hand, the crowd parting to let him through, their faces impassive as he passed them. As he ran, dodging around the many stalls and carts blocking the road and footpath, his mind started running through what his next move might be. King Hook was stalled for the time being, his ships berthed in their own harbour, away from the public wharf where the Shark was moored. Seamus wouldn't have finished loading the new supplies, he was more likely drunk as a lord, if Peter knew anything. On reaching the outskirts of the harbour, Peter slowed, looking for any sign that the local militia had been alerted to his new position as top of the most wanted list. Ducking around a warehouse wall he was within sight of the dock, as he checked the surroundings he saw a hooded figure, accompanied by a man with distinctive white hair, run up the gangplank and disappeared onto the deck of the Shark. Jill was safe.

Finding his way clear, Peter ran across the open space, curious stevedores and pirates on shore leave, giving him only a cursory glance before going about their business. As he reached the gangplank, a shout came from somewhere behind him but it served only to spur him on, his feet positively flying up the narrow wooden foot-bridge as he raced aboard, calling for his first mate as he ran.

Marcus appeared as Peter took in the skeleton crew and open main hatch, confirming that Seamus had indeed decided to take the day off in lieu of his Captain's absence.

"Damn!"

"There's enough to get you out of the harbour and around the headland to where I'm anchored. I can supply both goods and extra crew."

"Just as well, currently I'm out of choices."

Calling to his remaining sailors, Peter gave orders to cast-off the mooring lines and raise the gangplank, before leaping up the stairs to the bridge and taking the wheel. Calling up to the men in the rigging he ordered the main topsail and mizzen sails to be unfurled, the brisk breeze catching the canvas and making it snap and boom as the sheets filled. Gathering speed, the Shark pulled away from the dock as a troop of Hooks guards raced to catch her, their cries like seagulls, heedless and unintelligible. The whine and pop of muskets caused him a moments concern, but all fell short as the Shark moved out of range. As Peter steered his ship out to open water, he looked back and saw the royal guard running around like flies over the wharf, possibly looking for any crew members left behind. Peter laughed, the sound joyous and cocksure, his blood surging in his veins as the thrill of the chase imbued him with excitement. It was almost like the old days again.

Marcus joined him on the upper deck, his white hair streaming in the wind as Peter ordered more sails to be set, the Shark skimming and dipping through the waves as she sped away from Port James and into an uncertain future. Peter turned to his friend and grinned.

"Like old times, wouldn't you say Marcus....being chased, with the threat of the rope if we're caught."

"You always had a knack of making light of a total disaster...what are you going to do now?"

"What I was going to do anyway......go home. Hook doesn't have the resources to search every cove in Neverland, I'll be safe enough. I'll just have to keep my head down for awhile, until he cools off."

"I think you're being overly optimistic....this time Hook means to finish you.....and he'll use whatever means he has, to do so. She's brought you bad luck. You should have just handed her over to him. What's one night afterall...you could have had her for the rest."

The grin died on Peter's face as he turned away from Marcus and ostensively checked the compass heading. When he faced him again, Peter's face was hard and uncompromising, a muscle flexing rhythmically along his jaw line.

"Jill is my wife.....I surrender her to no man. Not for one night, or one hour....keep that in mind Marcus."

Surprised at the implied threat, Marcus held up his hands.

"Sorry Peter.... I misread the situation...you should have told me you were in love with the wench."

"I'm not.....I just don't like to share."

"You keep telling yourself that." Marcus smirked at his friends scowling face.

The Shark was plowing through the waves, the stiff breeze aiding her escape. They made the run to where Marcus had his ship in under an hour, Peter bringing the Shark alongside the Saucy Wench before securing the two ships together. Marcus clambered over the side to organise the unloading of the supplies while Peter left orders for his remaining crew to assist, before going below decks to his cabin.

Wendy was pacing, one hand on her hip the other against her mouth as she chewed her thumbnail. The cloak that Marcus had thrown around her lay across the end of the bed. She had almost fought the man when he grabbed her, after she'd run into the crowd. She had been trying to circle around, to get herself back to where Peter faced Hook, but Marcus had taken her arm and covered her with the cloak, whisking her away from the scene, making sure that Peter saw and knew what Marcus was doing. One of Marcus' crew had been instructed to collect the parcels forgotten in the melee and they lay scattered around the cabin floor as she awaited news of Peter's fate. Marcus had locked her in the cabin when she'd arrived and she'd spent fruitless minutes pounding on the unyielding door until she felt the ship move, confirming they were under sail and fleeing Port James.

The door opened behind her and she whipped around, her hands clenching as she prepared herself for bad news. At the sight of Peter, safe and sound, all her intentions of remaining cool and aloof flew out the latticed windows as she ran forward the few steps and threw herself on him, clutching at his shirt front and rocking him on his heels. Peter, for his part, had been surprised at his reaction to seeing her, all of once relieved and incredibly aroused, not helped by having her pressing her soft body all over his, in her haste to reassure herself he was all right. Like a conquering hero he soaked up the feel of her small hands against his chest, her hair wrapping around them both, her pliant body pressed intimately against his own. It took a moment, with his blood pounding in his ears, to register that she was speaking, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Reluctantly putting her away from him, he tried to see her face but she had it tilted down and her hair formed an effective curtain.

"What did you say?"

Suddenly embarrassed at her spontaneous reaction, Wendy stuck her arms beside her body and stepped further away, Peter instantly missing her warmth.

"I said.....I'm glad you're alright."

Smiling, Peter folded his arms across his chest and cocked that irrepressible eyebrow.

"I think you're more than just glad....if that reception was anything to go by."

Predicably, Wendy flared up, her head coming up and her eyes flashing angrily at his apparent conceit.

"You arrogant pig.....I almost wish that the King had lopped off your silly, fat head!"

"Maybe he'll have another chance......but for now, we are ahead of the pack and should be safe home by nightfall."

Suddenly weary, his adrenaline high subsiding, Peter turned away and started to unbuckle his sword, looping it over a hook beside the washstand. Wendy watched, confused by her contrary feelings and wary of his next move. Dipping his hands into the cold water left over from the morning, Peter splashed his face and head, washing the sweat of the fight from his skin. Apparently ignored, Wendy relaxed her shoulders and edged her way around the back of the map table and sat down in one of the plush chairs. Tossing his head back, he showered her with droplets before turning around and peeling off his shirt, which still carried the blood of the men he'd killed for her sake. Wendy swallowed hard, both because of the sight of that blood and its implications, but also because she had a ringside view of Peter's very bare expanse of bronzed chest.

As he turned to toss the soiled shirt to join the other on the floor from last night, Wendy found herself mesmerised by the play of muscles on his arms and torso. Not entirely unaware of the effect his body had on the female of the species, Peter carefully stretched out his arms in a casual move, a quick glance telling him he had Jill's full attention. As he finished his stretch he turned and faced her, his hands resting on his hips, his lips quirked in a smile.

"If I had more time....wife....I'd fulfil every one of those very wicked thoughts running through your mind right now,"

Starting, her eyes flying to his, Wendy blushed a fiery red from her toes to her hairline. Jumping to her feet, she backed behind the chair so it was between them.

"You...you....you..."

"Pirate ?" Peter supplied helpfully, his eyes dancing at her discomfort.

"Yes....you pirate...you kidnapper.....you....POPINJAY!" So intent on her search for the worst invective to prick his ego, she didn't notice that the subject of her vitriol was right behind her, until he spun her around and wrapped a hand round her throat, stilling her voice and tilting her face up to his.

"You, wife......talk to much. I have a much better use for those busy lips."

As she parted her lips to retort, Peter lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, his other hand behind her back, pressing her to him and moulding her body to his from breast to thigh, as he forced her to arch her back. His lips seared her, unbidden moans from deep in her throat driving him onwards, his tongue plundering the soft depths of her mouth as he drank deeply from her very soul. Wendy was lost.

As he continued his assault on her mouth, he started to move them both, backwards towards the bed, Wendy not even aware of his intent, her hands too busy discovering the satin texture of his skin, her fingers exploring the play of muscles that flexed and pulled across his shoulders and back. She was drowning in sensation and completely lost to all propriety, the first inkling of alarm only faintly surfacing when Peter lowered her to the bed, his mouth still making free with her own, his lips moving to sample the velvet expanse of her neck as she relaxed into the soft surface of the coverlet, tilting her head to give him greater access as he blazed a trail from behind her ear down to her collar bone. Not stopping, Peter continued his exploration of her skin, his hands coming up to pull hers from his shoulders and entwine his fingers with hers, before pulling them up to rest either side, and above her head, his arms acting as a cage as he kissed and licked his way down towards her breasts, her body straining against his in an ecstasy of want. With his hands holding hers, Peter reached the edge of her blouse but didn't stop, lifting his head to locate a soft peak before closing his mouth over the tight bud straining against the cloth and making Wendy gasp as lightening shot from her nipple to her core, warm heat from his mouth enveloping her everywhere.

His control of the situation was tenuous at best, but he wasn't so lost not to notice the hammering on his cabin door, and someone calling his name. Lifting his head from Jill's trembling flesh, he drew in a deep breath to try and still his hammering heart. Where his mouth had just been, his eyes drank in the sight of one rosy peak clearly visible through the damp material, his body surging, painfully tight as Jill writhed, already missing his attentions. Closing his eyes briefly, he let the clamour in his body die down before releasing her hands and pushing himself away from her. Wendy opened glazed eyes and watched confused as he lifted himself off her body, a fleetingly regretful expression on his face before he turned away and headed for the door.

Opening it only a narrow gap, Peter faced his friend Marcus, who tried peering casually around Peter's broad frame, but succeeded in catching only a glimpse of Wendy sprawled across the bed.

"Sorry to interrupt.....but the loading is finished and I need you to pick what extra crew you need. Time is not your friend this day."

"I'll be up directly....assemble the men. We'll sail within the quarter."

With a knowing grin, Marcus winked at Peter before turning on his heel and leaving. Peter drew in another deep breath, his heart and body starting to recover, but only slightly, from his tryst with Jill. Pushing away from the door-frame, he closed it and turned around, his fingers combing the hair away from his face as he walked to one of the chest and flung it open.

Pulling out a clean shirt he slammed the chest with unnecessary force, his frustration evident. Wendy watched him from the bed, her eyes wide and befuddled. She sat up slowly, pulling her blouse away from her skin, her feelings exposed and raw, her nerves firing erratically as she tried to quench the desire that still gripped her.

Peter kept well away as he pulled on the shirt, and buckled his sword back on. He knew that, if he so much as touched her, he'd lose what little control he had. Distance was the only way to keep a sane head on his shoulders. With that unsettling thought in mind, his voice came out harsher than he intended when he spoke to her.

"Stay in the cabin....there will be enough to cope with, without worrying what's happening to you as well. I'll return when our course is set."

Stung by his dismissive tone and not a little embarrassed by her apparently wanton behaviour, Wendy lashed out, her eyes stormy with hurt.

"Don't hurry on my account......I'm sure your ship has far more to keep you occupied than I do."

"This isn't over, Jill......but it will have to wait until we reach home. There we won't be interrupted by anyone....or anything."

"Then I hope the trip takes forever."

Ignoring her outburst, Peter turned to leave, tying his hair back as he walked. Wendy watched him go, her eyes already swimming with confused tears. As he glanced back he saw the glitter in her eyes and his heart almost failed, his body already wanting to return and gather her into his arms and finish what they started. A shout from above proved a timely reminder of their precarious situation. He mentally shook himself, surprised at how easily Jill had managed to almost un-man him.

Without looking back, he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Still in a turmoil from her passionate and completely uninhibited response to his lovemaking, Wendy threw herself back onto the rumpled bed and rolled onto her stomach, indulging her shattered emotions with a hearty bout of tears and self-pity.

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Hook paced angrily back and forth in front of his throne. Several of his ministers muttered among themselves, as they watched him wear a hole in his patent leather black shoes, their heads bending towards each other to keep their comments private.

"Stop whispering like old women....if you have something to say, spit it out!" Shouted Hook, scowling.

One of the men stepped forward, his lined face at pains to remain immobile in the face of Hook's wrath.

"We were just considering whether it is worth the expense of man-power and funds to chase this Captain Pan. You have tried in the past to ascertain his base of operations, most unsuccessfully if I may say so, and it would appear, given recent reports, that this time will prove no different."

Hook stopped in his tracks, his head turning to regard the unfortunate minister over his shoulder, the man under scrutiny maintaining his bland expression with difficulty. All the ministers had learned, from the fate of their predecessors, that Hook repaid any sign of weakness or fear with a well aimed pistol shot through the heart. There had been many minister's through the palace doors in the early years, most of them leaving in a pine box.

His eyes hooded, Hook released the man from his arctic glare, instead returning his gaze to the task of perusing the large animal skin that decorated his main hall, from one end to the other. Looking at the remains of the crocodile always brought a smile to his face, his fingers coming up to twirl one end of his impressive moustache into a needle sharp point that quivered slightly when he released it.

"Have I told you recently how I despatched this mighty beast?"

As none of the minister's had been in office for more than a year, they universally shook their heads.

"Good. I feel the need to relive some history and recover my....bonhomie....after this mornings debacle."

Resigned to a long wait to pursue matters of state, the minister's shuffled and sorted out their seating arrangements while Hook continued to stare up at the massive trophy.

"We are ready Majesty?"

"Good......now I'm sure you all know the story of my supposed death at the hands of a mere boy......well to clarify why I am so set on pursuing the renegade Captain.....he is that boy!

Receiving a suitably awestruck silence, Hook continued.

"He had just returned from delivering those pathetic Darling children to their home in London when he set the Jolly Roger down in the lagoon, not far from where he supposed my remains to be, somewhere in Davy Jones possession. But he hadn't figured on my hook."

With theatrical flair, King Hook brandished his artificial limb, the wickedly curved blade reflecting light from the many candles in sconces around the walls. On cue, the ministers let go a collective sound of appreciation and a smattering of applause. Pleased that his audience were getting into the swing of things, Hook carried on.

"As I was swallowed whole by the fearsome beast, my arms crossed over my chest, I let my hook point outwards, thereby gutting the animal from the inside out and affecting my escape." Again the minister's applauded, a bit more lustily when Hook waved his remaining hand at them in a upward motion.

"What happened then Majesty?"

Smiling thinly, Hook approached the unfortunate man and bent down, almost nose to nose.

"As I swam to the surface, my lungs bursting, I saw my ship......my ship....sailing away into the night sky. It was then I got the idea."

"Idea Majesty?"

"To change the face of Neverland forever and become King of this world."

Polite applause greeted his proclamation, Hook turning to fling his arms wide, the minister's taking the opportunity to exchange worried looks behind his back.

Walking towards the remains of the crocodile, Hook grinned.

"And then I waited for the tide to wash the carcass to the beach and skinned it with this self, same hook."

"Well done Majesty.....well done." Hook turned to find them on their feet so he swept them a courtly bow, his eyes still cold as ice.

Strutting over to his throne, Hook lowered himself onto the velvet cushions, flicking the tails of his coat out of the way.

"You may tell me what is needing my urgent attention now.....but be warned, I still intend to find Captain Pan and string him up from the tallest yardarm."

"Of course Majesty....now if you could just cast your royal eye over these supply shortfall reports and give your recommendations on these plans for the new town hall design?"

Sighing, Hook covered his eyes with his hand, his hook tapping on the much pitted arm of his throne. Being King was sometimes a pain in the royal arse.

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Marcus and Peter shook hands as they prepared to go their separate ways. Peter had decided to stick with his skeleton crew, not wanting to implicate Marcus if Peter's ship was caught and its crew captured. It would make the trip to his island that much more difficult, but from Peter's point of view, it would keep him away from Jill for the duration of the voyage, something he desired above everything else. Marcus hadn't stopped teasing him and Peter took it all in good heart, aware of the risk Marcus took helping him against Hook.

"You should just bed the wench and get her out of your blood. Avoiding her will only make it worse."

"She deserves better than a quick tumble in the bunk."

"I would take a wager she'd let you take her on the hard planks of the deck, the bed be-damned." Marcus snorted, not seeing the fist until is caught him on the chin and spun him away to land on the deck.

He looked up at Peter as the Pan stood over him, Peter's face a mask of anger. Wiping the small smear of blood from the corner of his mouth, Marcus got to his feet, smiling ruefully.

"Boy, have you got it bad."

Peter looked down at the deck, ashamed at losing control. Marcus had proved a good friend and didn't deserve the short end of Peter's uncertain temper.

"I'm sorry Marcus.."

"Hey.......I'm only jealous...I haven't found anyone I like enough to cheat at cards over, let alone deck a friend ...I hope she proves to be worthy of your love, Peter."

"She is."

"Then lets hope old Hook lets your enjoy her at least once, before cutting that love-sick heart out of your puny chest."

Once more in accord, the two friends laughed, Peter mock punching Marcus who clutched his arm in mock agony, grinning widely.

"Get off my boat you ham....I'll see you in the sunset...one day soon."

"Take care Peter.....keep your powder dry."

Peter waited for Marcus to clamber back aboard his own ship before ordering the mooring lines cut and the ships started to drift apart. When the gap was wide enough Peter ordered the men in the rigging to set the sails, the Shark starting to move away as he brought her around in a tight turn to leave the cove and the Saucy Wench behind. Leaving the wheel to one of the crew, Peter helped his men trim the canvas, needing almost everyone to work the capstan to raise the mainsail spar to its fullest extension. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon as they made for the open sea, the land dropping away behind them, disappearing and leaving them with only the clouds and seagulls for company.

Once more at the helm, Peter revelled in the wind blowing in his face, the ship diving and rising as she cut through the light swells, the sails straining at their halyards as the wind pushed the ship ever closer to home. The lookout, at the top of the mainmast, kept shouting down with reports of no sails on the horizon, giving Peter hope that Hook had indeed decided to resist the urge to send his entire fleet after them. The bounty hunters would come later.

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Chapter: Six - Home

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Sykes entered the tavern, his eyes searching the smoky booths for a body. Shuffling forward he peered into the corner behind the door and a smile creased his salt roughened face. Seamus was right where he always was, when the Shark was in port. Of course, after the fracas that morning, Sykes was well aware that the Shark was currently somewhere in the Western Sea, probably hotly pursued by the Kings fleet, but for now, Sykes just wanted to speak to the man slumped over the beer soaked table in the corner. Sidling in, he picked up the pewter mug sitting by the slack hand of the tables only other occupant. Finding it still half full, Sykes tipped the contents down his own throat, smacking his lips before wiping his mouth on his already grubby sleeve.

"Eh...Seamus....are you goin' to sit there all bloody night?"

The mound of hair that was the provision's officer of the Shark, wobbled from side to side, a moaning sound coming from somewhere under the mop of greasy hair.

Sykes leaned forward and grabbed a handful, lifting the head to reveal a face, too long left on the rough surface, as it now carried the imprint of woodgrain, like a scar, on one cheek. Seeing the shut eyes and slack mouth, Sykes dropped the head with a resounding thump and propped his elbows on the table, resigned to waiting for his friend to sober up.

If Wendy could have been present, she would have pointed out that the man known as Joss Sykes was also the man she'd seen picking his nails outside Madame Celeste. As if was, Wendy was not there, and Sykes remained unnoticed, just another unkempt pirate, wasting his wages on gin and beer until the next tide.

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The Shark arrived at the string of islands, known as The Pearls, as the sun was setting, the golden globe gilding the sea and clouds with soft pastel shades, the beauty of the sunset easing the tension in Peter's shoulders as he navigated the treacherous coastline, his extensive knowledge of the area his only safeguard against the hidden rocks and swift currents.

He had been sailing the waters around The Pearls since he'd grown from a boy to a young lad, his early experience as a cabin boy aboard the Jolly Roger a valuable time of learning. Mister Smee, then Captain of the aging galleon, had taken the boy under his wing and instructed him on the ancient craft of the mariner, the boy soaking up the knowledge and putting it to good use when the aging Smee had a heart attack during a storm and passed his Command over to Peter, only fifteen, or thereabouts, at the time. Peter had managed the storm, the ship and the crew, and earned the respect of everyone aboard, creating a nexus of truth about the future Captain Pan that rumours and exaggeration only helped to magnify as time went by. His exploits became legendary, rivalling the great Hook for daring and cunning, and Peter still only a boy, in some peoples estimation, but what he lacked in brawn and breadth, he made up for in courage, tenacity and sheer brass neck, and the ability to wield a sword far better than most. In time his physical stature caught up with his fame, and from there he never looked back.

If he found his dreams seeded with strange images of flying and fairies, or of Indians and grubby little boys, he dismissed them as the product of an over stimulated imagination, but it should be said that he often went to sleep hoping that the dreams would return and take him off to the world they created. It was so different from the one he currently inhabited. Among the images that stayed with him, even after waking, was one of a girl with long, honey gold hair and eyes that put the sky to shame. She often haunted his dreams, her eyes often soft and loving, her sweetly curved mouth laughing at him in a way that made him smile in his sleep. It was the ghost of that look he'd seen on Jill's face, when he looked down at her, asleep in her own bed back in London. It had sealed her fate, that fondly held memory from Peter's dreams, and been the cause of everything that had happened since that night.

Now, as he steered his ship between the rocky pinnacles that lined the entrance to his hidden harbour, Peter once more saw his dream girl in his minds eye. It was uncanny how Jill reminded him of her.

Feeling the effects of a long night without rest, followed by a long day on the run, Peter ordered the mainsail and topsails to be furled, only needing the smaller sails of the jib to provide enough forward momentum to get them through the narrow passage and into his secret anchorage. It was a tight squeeze, sheer granite cliffs needing a steady hand on the helm to avoid collisions with the walls, the narrow passage opening out into a deep lagoon, within the heart of the island itself. The cliffs continued, beyond the narrow crack that allowed access, forming a sheltering amphitheatre, combined with the lush vegetation, to hide the Shark from prying eyes, from both the sea or air. Peter circled the bay and brought the ship to berth at a natural outcrop that jutted out from the cliff, providing a broad dock. Bollards had been placed along the rock edge and the ship ground against them, coming to a rest as the crew scrambled overboard to secure the hawsers, the anchor dropping with a splash from the forecastle into the clear waters below.

He ordered the men to rest, the men glad to comply having had to do the tasks of a full crew during the voyage. Peter had picked his sailors with care, and it had paid dividends, the men not batting an eyelid when called upon to perform beyond the norm. Peter had a reputation for paying well and the men knew that. He was also known to be fair, but not weak, providing the men with steady employment and few floggings. With the short life-span of sailors on many other ships, Captain Pan's was practically a guarantee of a future, such as it was in Neverland. All this meant that the skeleton crew were made up of very loyal men who regarded this latest escapade with the disdain of long experience. It was just another story to add to the Captain's already colourful history.

Feeling exhaustion creeping up on him, Peter checked the moorings before retiring for the night, his steps heavy as he approached his cabin door. With his hand on the latch, he paused. Letting go of the handle, he turned away and crossed the passageway to another, smaller door and opened that instead. The room he entered was dark with no lantern yet alight, and no window to let in the sun, but still a faint light issued from several cages lining the wall opposite the door. Inside the fine mesh cages were small groups of fairies, their bodies curled into each other as they slept, looking like tiny kittens, their wings rising and falling as they breathed. After their long night over London, Peter wasn't surprised that the tiny creatures had to rest so long. Fairies were in short supply in Neverland, having been exploited for years and their welfare taken little heed of. Under Peter's care, they were making a small comeback, but were nowhere near their original number before Hook's destruction of their forest home. They now had to hide themselves away in caves and tunnels, on a small island that bordered the one Peter used for his base. The mainland fairies had long since been captured and were now almost extinct in the wild, the captive population also dwindling each year. The few fairies that Peter kept, were worth a fortune to anyone imprudent enough to try and take them from him. What most of the people, who knew he had them, didn't realise was that Captain Pan's fairies were all volunteers, not slaves.

A faint bell-like voice called to him from one of the cages in the corner, the light inside brightening as he came closer.

"Where are we?" Asked the fairy, her hands resting on the mesh, her wings erect as she stared up at Peter. Crouching down, he smiled at the exquisite creature, his features reflecting the glow of the fairies light.

"We are home again. It's getting dark outside so I don't recommend you try and return to the Emerald Island just yet. You must be exhausted from last night."

"You take very good care of us Peter.....more than we can ever repay."

"One day you won't be beholden to anyone....one day you'll have your Queen back."

"I fear that day is still a long way off.......Hook will never release the Queen...not until every fairy has been used and discarded, just as we would have been....but for you."

"That will change.....Hook can't live forever. He's old,"

"And Hook is after you now.....how will we survive if he kills you?"

A grin pulled Peter's mouth wide, his eyes glinting in the fairy's light. "He has to find me first....and I don't intend to give myself up without a fight, if he does."

"You are but one man Peter.....you cannot fight all the pirates and Hook."

"No.....I can't.....but I have a feeling things are on the change in Neverland...and Hook's reign coming to an end."

"I am tired Peter....I will rest some more."

The fairy, her wings once more drooping, flew back to her nest and snuggled in with the fairies already there, her light dimming to a mere glow. Standing up, Peter checked the other cages before leaving the room, the door firmly closed behind him.

Sighing, his eyes feeling gritty, Peter pushed open his cabin door to find that room also in darkness. Reaching up he lifted down one of the lanterns and placed it next to its fellow on the chart table. From a small drawer set in the side of the bench, he produced a container of matches, striking one and lighting the wick, a glow quickly spreading light and warmth into the room. Lifting up the lantern, he hung it from the beam before turning to survey the cabin. As he suspected, Jill was tucked up in the bunk, the covers pulled up to her shoulders, her back to him. He saw a plate and mug on the bedside table and smiled as he realised she'd found the galley and seen to her own needs, heeding his order not to appear on deck.

She'd left a heel of bread on the plate and Peter chewed on it thoughtfully as he sat on the side of the bed, listening to her steady breathing and the muffled slap of the waves against the hull.

Reaching up he loosened the leather thong holding back his hair, tossing it to the floor as he flexed his shoulders to ease the ache and rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck. Standing up he pulled off his shirt and discarded his sword belt, his boots joining the belt in a heap on the floor. Finally he peeled off his tight fitting breeches, kicking them across the planks to join the shirts already in a heap by the door. Walking naked to the cabin windows, he lifted the catch and pushed them open, the sound of the water increasing, soothing him as he let the faint breeze play over his skin while he leant on the sill. Sometimes he hated clothes, often swimming free in the clear water's of the lagoon before laying on a rock to dry off in the hot sun. He vaguely remembered a time when clothes weren't what he wore, but that was only because Smee had said Peter once wore leaves. It seemed so ridiculous that Peter didn't really believe it, but then Smee never lied, so it remained a puzzle. Arching his back, he lifted his face to the breeze, drinking in the smell of seaweed and salt and the heady scent of the jungle.

Stretching his tired limbs, he turned and approached the bed, noting that Jill had turned over towards the left side, leaving most of the bed free. Ignoring the little voice that told him his wife was his for the taking, Peter lifted the covers and fell onto the soft pallet, instantly turning his back to the temptation only a hand span away. He told himself he was too tired to raise so much as a little finger let alone anything needed to seduce his wife, but it was a weak argument. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax and ignore the soft presence at his back, her warmth reaching out and enveloping him, his body responding, unbidden, to her nearness. Groaning to himself, he tried to ignore the tingling in his loins and think about mundane matters to take his mind of her sweet lips and rose scented hair. It wasn't working, if anything, he felt more wide awake now than when he'd entered the cabin. Turning on his back, he lifted his right arm and put it behind his head, shifting the pillows to give himself better support, but that only succeeded in draping some of Jill's hair over his way so that it became tangled in his fingers when he tried to pull it out from under his head. At the touch of the silky strands he growled, unable to resist bringing a tufted end to his face and stroking his skin with the soft brush of her hair. It was no good, he was going to explode if he didn't touch her.

Rolling over onto his side, so that he now faced her back, Peter raised himself on his elbow, his body clamouring for him to touch her. He pulled the covers down, exposing her shift covered body to his gaze. She felt the change in temperature in her sleep, pulling her knees up and pushing her bottom towards him. Peter grinned, his exhaustion flying out the window like smoke. Leaning over her shoulder, he buried his nose in her neck, her hair tickling his mouth and brushing against his eyelids as he inhaled her warm and arousing scent of roses and something uniquely her own. His left hand came to rest on her waist, stroking her hip and down her thigh, whispering over the silky material of her shift and pulling it up to bunch above her knees. Still she slept, her lips parting in unconscious awareness of the seduction being practised upon her. His free hand now stroked the firm flesh above her knee, painting circles as his lips started pressing kisses to her exposed shoulder, sucking on the softly rounded top of her arm while his hand started a slow journey up her leg, his rough palm gliding over her thigh, her nightdress bunching at he slid under its protective cover to allow him access to stroke her skin up and down, as lightly as a feather.

Wendy sighed deeply, her dreams turning from nothing special, to something extraordinary as she found herself flying over an island, a boy beside her, his face vague as she tried to focus, the only clear impression being of his eyes, full of sly amusement and mischief. As the dream continued it changed and she was in her old nursery with John and Michael, but they were asleep and she was lying on her back, looking up at a boy that floated over her body, again his face a vague hint but his eyes clear as crystal, their colour at once blue and green with a hint of gold.

Peter froze as Jill moaned in her sleep, the top half of her body twisting towards him, her hips still on the side. He licked his lips and growled again, his eyes sweeping over her face and down to her breasts, his body as tight as a bow string with want. He simply couldn't wait any longer.

"Jill......wake up."

"Hmmmmmm?"

"Wake up.....now, I want you....now!"

"Hmmmmmm.....what are you doing in my bed?"

"It's my bed....and I'm your husband.....where else would I be?"

"I fell asleep waiting....are we home yet?"

Peter grinned at her sleepy voice, her eyes still closed, her thick lashes hiding their secrets from him, her lips parted enticingly.

"I want to make love to you wife.....but I want you awake while I do so!"

At his throaty, and altogether outrageous, statement Wendy came fully awake, her eyes snapping open to find Peter's face only inches from her own.

"Oh....but.....oh!"

"That's what I like......a woman that doesn't talk too much."

"Peter....there's something I think you should know."

"Hmmmmmmmmm?" As Wendy tried to concentrate, Peter used his free hand to cup one of her breasts, making her suck in a breath and stiffen, the feel of his thumb brushing across her nipple causing a liquid heat to flow through her and melt her bones.

"You're not making this very easy."

"Was I supposed too?" He bent his head and started to kiss his way to the edge of her shift, pushing the material aside with his nose to go further. Wendy closed her eyes momentarily, trying to keep her precarious hold on sanity as his lips drove her crazy.

"My names not Jill!" She managed to blurt, tremors starting in her stomach as his mouth found a pert nub and latched on.

Removing his mouth, Peter paused in his slow seduction and cocked that impudent eyebrow, his eyes dark and hooded behind their thick, gold tipped lashes. "Then what is your name?"

"Wha-a-a-t ?" Wendy stuttered, her body starting to arch off the bed as sensation replaced reason.

"I asked, what is your name, if its not Jill?"

"Oh....ur....its Wendy Moira Angela Darling."

The teasing thumb causing her brain to cease all function suddenly stopped, the heated body pressing so inappropriately into her side suddenly still.

"Wendy ?"

"Hmmmmmm....that's right."

His stillness suddenly penetrated her passion fogged brain and she opened her eyes and blinked to see Peter staring down at her with a frown marring his forehead.

"What's the matter?"

"Why did you keep your name a secret?"

"I....I...didn't want you to try and use me for a ransom...and...I don't know....I just didn't want you to know my real name."

"I know your name.....from a long time ago, when I was still a boy."

"But....how could you.....I don't remember....at least I don't think I remember you. Where would you have met me?"

"Here.....here in Neverland....you came here," Peter screwed his face up as he tried to recall fragments of something that he only remembered from confused dreams. Wendy looked up at him in alarm, her own memories too vague to help her.

"I've never been here....I never met you before you tried to kidnap me.....why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying......you have been here before......I just can't remember when...or why. I sometimes have dreams of a girl...she has hair like yours.....eyes as blue as yours.......she gave me her hidden kiss."

Frightened and confused, Wendy unconsciously touched the corner of her mouth where her Aunt had pointed out her hidden kiss when she was only a little girl on the verge of womanhood.

"How do you know about that.....no one knows about that...you can't possibly..."

"You gave it....to me."

"WHAT!"

His voice lost its hesitation, memories suddenly flooding in as if a floodgate had been lowered, pictures coming thick and fast of a Neverland vastly different from the world he knew and of a time when Wendy saved his life with a kiss, which at the time he thought was called a thimble.

"I remember.......its all there.....I remember!" Filled with nervous energy, Peter jumped out of bed, forgetting his unclothed state and shouted with laughter, spinning around on the balls of his feet, his head thrown back and arms outstretched, his body filled with a glow that seemed to spread from his chest to his fingertips and beyond.

Wendy sat hunched against the head of the bed, a pillow clutched in her arms, her face buried in the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of images that teased at the edge of her minds eye, battering at her locked memory.

Peter, grinning broadly stopped his spinning and leapt once more on the bunk, landing on his knees, his body leaning over Wendy as she cowered in the middle of the bed. His initial euphoria receded when he finally noticed her rigid back and curled limbs, as if trying to fold in on herself like a hedgehog.

"Wendy......I remember everything.....I don't know why I didn't before....but now its all there!"

He heard a muffled reply from her bent head, but couldn't make out what she said. Frustrated at her lack of response he tried to unwrap her, but found her flesh stiff and unyielding.

"Why are you all scrunched up.....aren't you happy I've remembered you?"

Again he received only a mumbled reply, his frustration changing to bewildered anger at her strange behaviour.

As if sensing that Peter was losing patience with her, Wendy raised her head and Peter saw that she was crying, fat tears rolling down her face, her lips trembling as her eyes swam with grief.

"I don't remember....I...can't...remember.." she wailed, burying her face once more in the pillow.

"Oh Wendy," his anger draining away, lay down on his side, pulling her unresisting body against his own, tucking her into the shelter of his arms, her head cradled, complete with pillow, against his chest. He lay quietly, his chin resting on the top of her head, his warmth slowly penetrating her frozen muscles and relaxing them, her body unfolding under his gentle caresses, until she lay soft and pliant once more, her body hitching occasionally as her weeping subsided and exhaustion stole over her.

His passion of before changed, to an overwhelming tenderness for the girl cradled trustingly in his sheltering arms. His remembered memories supplying all the reasons he needed to treasure his Wendy, and to thank his overworked lucky stars, that his heart had known the truth even if his head hadn't quite caught up.

As the stars appeared like bright diamonds thrown in the velvet sky, Peter finally succumbed and slept, his Wendy clasped firmly to his heart, his dreams much sharper, and all of flying.

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Chapter: Seven - Reminiscence

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Hook wandered the corridors of his palace, his long dressing gown trailing behind him, whispering across the floors as he passed, the sound like a snake, pursuing him. In his hand he carried a small lantern, the light sending his shadow dancing across the walls. His feet were bare, the varnished wood cold against his soles as he strode up to a small door and produced an ornate key from a pocket. Unlocking the door, Hook turned his head both ways before turning the handle and passing into the room beyond. The lantern light barely reached the far wall of the almost empty room. Closing the door carefully behind him, he pocketed the key and lifted the lantern higher. In the corner, on a pedestal, in a solid glass case, floated the Queen of the fairies, her hair and robes swirled lazily around her, her wings barely beating to maintain her position. As Hook approached, her head lifted and her tiny mouth opened, emitting a tinkling sound, muted by the glass barrier between her and freedom.

Placing the lantern on a small table beside the pedestal, Hook pulled up a stool and sat down. The feeble light cast deep shadows over his face, the Queen's light fitful at best, so that Hook looked every inch the cruel pirate, and very little of the noble king he aspired to be.

"Soooooo....have we reached a decision regarding my....proposal?"

Again the fairy Queen opened her mouth and the tiny bell sounds beat against the thick glass. Hook only smiled crookedly and shook his head.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for, your majesty. If you want the rest of your people to not suffer the fate of your king, I suggest you co-operate and do as I say."

At the mention of her dead husband, the Queen covered her face with her hands and bowed her head, her wings drooping as she wept anew.

"Oh tut tut.....no tears....come now, I don't ask for much, do I? All I want is the location of the fairy treasure. I know it exists...I've studied all the manuscript and history books on your kind." Hook paused, tapping the glass to get the Queen's attention. "And that paltry tribute last year only whetted my appetite.....I want the rest."

Vigorously shaking her head, the Queen made to turn her back but Hook only twisted the glass box around so that she faced him once more.

"You have lost your home.....your people are dying or enslaved, you have one chance to save what few are left......tell me where the treasure is?"

Her shoulders slumped, the Queen sank to the bottom of the box, her face once more in her hands. Impatiently, Hook waited. Finally, drawing herself up, her wings snapping to lift her upwards, the Queen approached the glass wall and stared directly at Hook. Recognising the routine, Hook closed his eyes and made his mind blank. Into his head popped an image of the string of islands known as The Pearls. As if flying over the small land masses, the image focused on one tiny island off the coast of a larger one. In his mind, Hook appeared to be flying right into it and he threw his arms up at the last moment, only to find the image only an illusion, his raised arms unnecessary.

Grinning, Hook raised his fingers and touched his forehead in a mock salute.

"Thank you, your majesty, I knew you would relent. And it suits my purpose to search the Pearls....that itch that I can't scratch, Peter Pan, is lurking amongst them somewhere and I intend to find him......and put him out of my misery."

Defeated, the Queen turned her back once more on Hook, drifting to the bottom of the cage and collapsing, her light dimming.

Getting to his feet, Hook lifted the lantern, swinging it around as he turned, his trailing gown swishing through the air. About to leave, he turned back and bent down to peer at the tiny figure of the Queen.

"And when I return with your treasure and Pan's head on a spike, I'll take great pleasure in releasing you from this mortal plane.....I only have to say the words and your life is ended.......Goodnight, your majesty, sleep well on that."

Turning on his heel, Hook marched to the door and wrenched it open, slamming it behind him before locking it. Leering horribly, Hook felt a growling rumble in his stomach. Torture always gave him such an appetite.

As Hook stepped jauntily down the corridor, the lantern swinging from his fingers, a figure slipped from a doorway further down and hugged the walls before approaching the door that Hook had only just left. As Hook's light disappeared around a corner, the intruder pulled a candle out of his pocket and lit it, placing it on the floor before turning his attention to the lock. Taking out the tools of his trade, the thief quickly opened the door, picked up the candle and slipped inside the room.

Sykes peered into the gloomy corners, his candle guttering briefly before glowing brightly and showing him the cage in the corner. Padding over, he put the candle down again and rummaged in his tattered clothing, producing a small velvet bag with a drawstring opening. Pulling it wide, Sykes put it between his teeth before lifting the glass cage up and off the fairy, lying in a heap on the base. Placing the glass square on the floor, Sykes scooped up the insensible fairy and slipped her gently into the bag, pulling the cord tight before placing the bag inside his shirt. After replacing the glass case on the empty base, Sykes collected his candle and hurried from the room, careful to lock the door behind him again. Once accomplished, he scurried down the corridor in the opposite direction to Hook's and disappeared into the dark.

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Wendy opened her eyes and found herself alone. Her face felt tight and sticky, her eyelids swollen. Rolling over she buried her face in one of the pillows, trying to regain the oblivion of sleep but the pillow only reminded her of the man she'd slept with the night before. Rolling onto her back she stared up at the beams, the lantern swinging slowly from side to side as the slight swell rocked the ship at her mooring. Light flooded the room, the windows open wide, letting in the sound of the waves slapping against the hull as well as the sound of cicada's and seagulls. Rolling onto her side she swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and sat up, rubbing her gritty eyes and wondering where Peter was. Last night had been a disaster.

Getting to her feet she padded over to the window sill and rested her arms long the ledge, leaning out to breath in the scented air, the breeze lifting her hair away from her sticky neck. Looking down she noted how clear the water was, the blue-green water alive with flickering silver darts that swam below its calm surface. It looked very tempting. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at the closed door of the cabin, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she turned to contemplate the water so invitingly close. Making up her mind, she sat her bottom on the sill and lifted her legs, swinging them around to dangle over the short drop to the sea. Using her hand on the window frame to push herself off, she dropped to the waters surface, feet first, the water closing over her head as she disappeared under with a small splash. Kicking strongly she surfaced almost immediately, her hair streaming behind her as she trod water, her hands brushing the water out of her eyes. Behind her the wall of the ships hull loomed over her head. Taking her time, she kicked her feet and paddled away slowly from the side of the ship, her head going back in the water as she turned over and did a slow backstroke, her eyes closed. It was heaven. The water slid over her skin like cream, her legs kicking only enough to keep her afloat as she drifted away from the ship. After a little while she stopped and trod water while she surveyed the bay that was sheltering the Shark. The jungle rose up on all sides like a crater, the lush greenery punctuated by grey, rocky outcrops the higher up you went. Opposite the ship, some distance away, was the channel that allowed entrance to the hidden harbour, waves surging through the narrow gap and forming ripples on the calm lagoon. A broad apron of rock, half way up, shielded the Shark from above, overhanging greenery making a waterfall-like curtain to help in the disguise. Arching her back, Wendy floated, her arms outspread, her head back, her hair like ribbons of seaweed lazily waving in the slow current.

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Peter sat crosslegged on a coil of rope at the prow of his ship. He had been there since dawn, having first swum in the lagoon as the star's faded and the sun turned the heavens from sapphire to peach, and chased the clouds with streaks of pink and orange. He'd instructed the crew to make the trip to the other side of the island and make camp there, to keep watch for any curious ships or island hoppers. His men were more than happy to get off the ship, jumping at the chance to gather fresh supplies from the bounty of the island and to laze on its tropical beach. Peter wanted to be alone with his Wendy. He'd awoken from a dream about flying, his body twisting and turning among the fluffy clouds, his emotions echoing his moves as he dipped and soared, his mouth open in a shout of laughter. To wake to a darkened cabin was a disappointment, his mind whirling with all the images his restored memory paraded across his minds eye. Beside him, tucked into his body, Wendy slept still, her face hidden by her arm. A surge of emotion made his heart rush into his throat and he had to swallow hard to stop the prickle of moisture stinging his eyes.

He remembered her. The memories were slightly blurred, as they are want to do, over a period of time, and the words partly forgotten of those long ago conversations, but the bits he did remember only strengthened his feelings for her, and created a wealth of questions about what had happened and why she'd left him. Of course, it could be argued that he left her, not returning as he'd promised. It all needed to be chewed over and thought about, and for that he needed to be alone. After the men left he shed the sarong he'd knotted around his slim hips, and dived over the side of the ship, the water welcoming him like an old friend, his body embracing the slight chill like a lovers touch. After surfacing he struck out across the bay, his movements sure and strong, his arms powering through the water, his legs kicking strongly. It was exhilarating. After a while he slowed and rolled onto his back, his arms outstretched as he stared up at the dawn sky, the stars winking out one by one as the sun reclaimed its domain. As he floated he thought about the chain of events that led him to where he, and Neverland, were today. He remembered the climatic battle on the deck of the Jolly Roger and Hook's vile words that caused Peter to lose his concentration and crash to the deck. He remembered the look on Wendy's face as she strained to reach him, a tear rolling down her cheek as Hook prepared to end his life. He remembered Wendy leaning over him, her hand against his cheek, the touch he'd refused in the fairy grove where they danced, the touch he'd craved since he'd first seen her asleep in her bed. He remembered her kiss, or thimble as he'd thought it was called then, her lips unbearably sweet as she gave him her hidden kiss. It was all there, the feeling of hope that before had been ashes, as he prepared himself to die. The look on Hook's face as the realisation that he'd been tricked sunk in. The power of the explosion when he'd given reign to the feelings of being loved, his whole being starting to glow and expand. He remembered and marvelled that he could have forgotten anything so important.

What followed had somehow blotted out all that goodness and he started to wonder just what did happen when he returned the Jolly Roger to Neverland. He was sure he had wanted to return to her, visit her and listen to more stories about his prowess and adventures, but something had intervened, something had hidden all that wonder and love from him and left him not knowing what he'd lost.

As he had swum back to the Shark, he vowed to answer those questions and find a way to return Neverland to the world it once was, or die in the attempt.

A splash pulled him from his musings, as s