Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. At all. The rights to it will remain with J. M. Barrie, his family, and Disney.

She woke to chaos. Glass was shattered and lying in a glittering lake across the floorboards. Bedclothes were tattered and shredded, hanging half off of the desk on the other side of the room. Ink pooled close, threatening to stain the remaining sheets a midnight black. Books, quills, portraits, and other objects--broken, ripped and otherwise damaged--littered the devastated room. Even the walls looked to have been scored with some sharp object.

Wendy Darling, a woman with curling waves of chestnut tresses, emerald eyes, and petite figure, looked more closely at her surroundings. This was not London. Curious and somewhat concerned, she stood from the bed, her peach nightdress swaying about her ankles gently. The gentle rocking beneath her bare feet showed that she was on board a ship of some kind. How could she have gotten to a ship without waking? How long had she been asleep? Had she been drugged? There was no way she could have slept naturally having been kidnapped from her bed and through this devastation.

She stepped over what looked to be a small mountain of goose-down, which in reality was a large pillow with a gaping tear down the middle. She winced at the sudden pain she felt in her left foot accompanied by a faint twinkling of splintered glass. Examining her foot, she found a small sliver stuck there. She plucked it out and wiped at the small dot of blood forming. Where she'd stepped was the broken remains of a pocket watch--damaged so that the the inner gears were exposed.

It took Wendy a few moments of exploring the cabin to notice some sort of low sound. She stopped breathing for a moment to better hear it. Was that an animal? Could it be a mouse catching cat? Considering the horrid state of the cabin, the poor thing could be hurt. Or was it her captor? The growl was coming from behind the overturned table. Walking as slowly and quietly as she could, Wendy made her way across the messy floorboards. Her hand came involuntarily at what she saw.

The man she'd once told stories about to her brothers, the man that had captivated her with his beauty and that distinct aura of danger, the most dangerous pirate in all of Neverland--Captain James Hook-- sat in a heap upon the floor. His clothes were torn in places, the once beautiful velvet coat now ruined beyond repair. His neat black curls tangled and matted against his head.

Her gaze instinctively went to his eyes, hoping to see the beautiful, intelligent, forget-me-not. Wendy felt a surge of fear when her emerald met an angry scarlet that matched his coat. She'd told of his eyes flashing red just before he killed a person, but never this unrelenting, never-ending, blood red. He didn't seem to be able to see her standing before him. The growling hadn't stopped either. An odd sound, certainly, coming from deep in his throat.

Wendy forced herself to stand her ground. She couldn't retreat. Not while he was sprawled on the ground, held up only with the aid of the table, as he was. She may have once feared this man and wished him dead, but she was no longer a child. It was he who'd shown her that in a roundabout way. He needed her help. "Captain?"

Insane red eyes turned upon her. She could hear the growling much better now and Wendy realized that it was indeed getting louder. His hand came up, slowly, and in it was a pistol. Her eyes grew large in fear. "Please don't shoot, Captain! I mean you no harm," she took a step toward him--slowly, carefully. "It's all right."

Feeling as though she were calming a savage dog, she made sure to make no quick movements and continued to murmurer softly words that meant nothing, their only purpose to sooth. Close enough to touch him now, she focused on the pistol aimed straight at her chest. There was absolutely no hope that he'd miss now. Hesitantly, she reached for the weapon. Hook's hand tightened on the gun, finger slightly exerting pressure on the trigger. Wendy stopped, hand hanging in mid-air. "Captain, there is no one to hurt you. There is no reason for the gun. Can you put it down, please?"

Her eyes followed the gun as it slowly lowered, but she noticed that he kept it in his hand, in sight, on his lap.

"There now, that's better." Words still came from her mouth, though she no longer thought about them. She doubted that he fully understood what she said anyway. However, her words kept him calm, so she kept at it as she examined him.

He didn't seem to be harmed in any way. No blood stained him or his surroundings. Her floating hand slowly continued its way, briefly coming into contact with his skin before he hastily pulled away. The inhuman growl had stopped moments ago when he'd picked up the pistol, but now his eyes narrowed and a warning noise, low and dangerous came from his throat.

She didn't move or back away, simply stood there, letting him regard her. He could determine for himself whether she would hurt him. After a few never-ending moments, Hook haltingly moved back to his original position, scarlet eyes never leaving her face. This time, when she reached out, he did little more that tense when her cool skin met his fevered brow. How long had he been sitting here, fever and all? She didn't think it could be long.

What was she supposed to do? Wendy knew only how to keep a person comfortable through sickness. It was Nanna or Mother who dealt with making the children well again. If it were very bad, a doctor would be called in. She couldn't imagine what she could do for the pirate captain. The first thing to be done would be to get him off of the floor and onto the bed, she imagined.

"Can you stand?" she asked him. The redness of his eyes dulled slightly, calming blue flashing through for a small second. He nodded and started to move. Bending to help him, she reached for his hand, having somehow forgotten about the pistol. His fevered brain must have thought she meant to take it from him. He reared back, hitting the table, the pistol trained on her once more.