Hook awakens from his reverie, shocked to find his fist clenched and his hook dug into the window frame, and spins on his heel to stare once more into his bedroom where Maggie is still sleeping fitfully. He grits his teeth and stalks over to the doorway, pausing to stare at her sleeping form with longing.

What will she think of me? How could she ever accept that I didn’t mean to hurt her?

His stomach clenches with that emotion that hadn’t made itself known since Isabella’s death, and he nearly doubles over with the helplessness that engulfs him. I can’t take this! I can’t just stand here not knowing whether she thinks I’m a monster or not!

Without thinking about his actions, Hook stalks over to Maggie’s bed and yanks on the chain hanging from the lamp beside her bed, bathing the room in bright light. The girl moans and begins to wake, and Hook feels an icy hand grip his heart as the anticipation builds.

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

Somewhere in the dreamy haze that I had been floating in since dinner, my eyes register the change in lighting and open the tiniest bit, and when they settle on Hook I let out a small gasp and push myself as hard as I can in the opposite direction, straining my already injured shoulder. With a small flinch and another indrawn breath at the pain, I freeze in place and simply stare at the man standing not two feet from me.

“Why?” The word slips out before I can think to hold it in. Do I really want to know the reason behind Hook’s vicious attack the night before? Do I really care? With a wave of shame I realize that I do, and rather than take back my question I simply wait for his response.

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

Hook blinks, taken aback by her almost reception of him into her room. Why is she not angry? Then he realizes that the shock probably hasn’t worn off yet, and this is most likely the last time he’ll ever be able to explain his actions. He opens his mouth to explain everything, but closes it again as a new and horrible thought pops into his head.

What if it happens again? What if next time she doesn’t survive? What would he do with himself if he knew that he had caused her death by letting himself believe that he could control himself around her? He knew where that would lead. Down a road he hadn’t traveled since Isabella’s death, and one he was not keen to revisit.

I have to make her leave, Hook thinks with despair. I can’t kill her. I can’t let her die like- like Isabella. He tries to sneer, but fails miserably and instead his face crumples.

“I’m setting you free,” he says, and Maggie looks up in surprise. For a moment Hook believes that he might have seen an emotion vaguely resembling pain or sadness, but decides that he must have imagined it when Maggie wipes it from her face. “I’ll have Smee take you back to your father, along with a bag of pixie dust in case… well, it has many functions I’m sure you could find use for. It can turn things to gold, allow you to fly, and let you return if the urge struck you to escape for a while.”

Throughout this speech Maggie had been looking at him in confusion, and she finally speaks up. “Why are you letting me go? I thought I was going to be your prisoner for life.”

Hook looks up at her in surprise, and finds himself growing angry with her. Why couldn’t she just leave and save herself? Get herself as far away from him as possible and be safe? “Does it matter?” he snarls, and Maggie looks taken aback. “You’re free, so leave!”

Her face fills with hurt for a space of mere seconds, but is again wiped clear as she straightens. “Fine, I will,” she says, and Hook feels as though his heart has been cut out with a dull and icy knife.

He steps back from the bed and leaves the room, never once looking back at the sad, injured figure under the covers, but before the door closes behind him he hears the faintest whisper. “I thought I could have loved you…” and slams the door behind him to cut off Maggie’s soft voice.

He stalks to the deck of the ship and simply stands there, staring out at the horizon with despair. This is for the best, he thinks, not knowing whether he’s convincing himself or not.

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

My next few hours pass in a blur. Smee is the one to come down to Hook’s cabin with my clothes from home and lead me to the deck of the ship, and I wince at the familiar silhouette framed against the setting sun. Hook’s shoulders are hunched against the wind that whips his long black hair around his face, and I can almost hear him whispering a mantra to himself. “It’s for the best… It’s for the best…”

Slowly I’m led to the jollyboat hanging off the side of the ship, and I allow myself one backward glance before I step down into the hull. I let out a gasp at the sight of Hook standing on the fo’c’sle, his head turned toward me this time, and think I can almost feel his eyes connect with mine one last time.

To my horror and shame I feel tears running down my cheeks as the jollyboat is lowered into the ocean, and I wipe them away hurriedly. Am I crazy? I think to myself. He almost killed me last night and I don’t want to leave him. Why do I feel this way? Why does it hurt?

I stare stoically over the bow of the boat, forcing my thoughts to my father and my home, but find that they don’t hold the same appeal that they used to. Sure, I missed my dad, but what would happen if I went back? I would keep living with my dad and keeping him company to make up for the guilt that I felt for leaving him alone before my mom died, Paint pictures in my bedroom that would never sell, work at the Laundromat down the street until my hair turned gray or my dad died as well, and live alone for the rest of my years. Not exactly a pleasant prospect.

But if I stayed here I could have the greatest adventure of my life, fall in love with a dashing pirate, and sail the seas on a beautiful ship for the rest of eternity. There was really no competition, but my dad needed me. He was getting older every day and already had trouble getting around on his own. He just wouldn’t last without me there to help him.

Just as I had resigned myself to the rest of my lonely life, the decision was made for me. The jollyboat lurched to a dead stop, despite the efforts of the men rowing. However hard they pulled on the oars, the boat wouldn’t move another inch. I turned around in my seat only to realize that we had barely gotten fifty feet from the ship in the time it had taken me to realize my entire future. However, it seems that the future is not set in stone as the boat is turned around and the men begin rowing back to the Jolly Roger.

And back to Hook, my traitorous mind thinks, as the figure still standing on the deck grows larger and larger and my spirit grows lighter and lighter the closer we get to the ship.

When we reach the Jolly Roger and I am taken roughly back aboard, Hook stalks down the companionway and bellows, “Why are you back? I told you to bring the girl home!” Smee cowers on the deck before him and apologizes profusely, explaining that they had tried to leave but found that the boat simply would not continue forward.

Hook curses under his breath, and I know immediately that he had suspected something like this to happen. I feel a wave of anger rise up in me, buoyed by my self-loathing at being happy to be here again.

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? You bastard, how could you do this to me? Give me hope with the knowledge that I’ll never be able to leave anyway! That’s just sick.” And with that I stop, crossing my arms over my chest with a snarl still on my lips but taking a step or two backwards at the look that appears on Hook’s face at my words.

He whips his head up to face me, his eyes wide with an undefinable emotion that looks vaguely like panic. “You think I meant for this to happen?" He shouts. "I suspected that a promise in Neverland might be more binding than a normal one, but I never thought that it would literally bind you to me for eternity!” My eyes widen in shock at the implications of his words, and I feel as though my heart has turned to stone.

“You mean,” I whimper, “I can never go home?” Hook’s eyes flash dangerously, and I almost see something like triumph in his gaze before it vanishes.

“Not as long as I remain here, my dear.” He stalks over to me and grips my face in his good hand, forcing me to look into his bright blue eyes as the sun sets behind him. “And believe me when I say I never plan to leave.”