(Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Peter Pan, Hook, or anything else affiliated with J.M. Barrie, though I wish I did. Enjoy the fic!)
You know how you can sometimes wake up one morning and think the dream you had the night before was real? Like if you dream that you already went through Friday and wake up thinking it's the weekend, but then you realize it's still Friday and you have to go through the day again? Yeah, that kind of dream. Well, I was having a hell of a realistic dream the night before my twenty-fifth birthday.
It started with me falling asleep listening to the song Snow White Queen by Evanescence. You know, the one with that one line that says: 'you belong to me, my snow white queen'? Yeah, well, it must've hit some nerve or something, 'cause the next thing I know I'm opening my eyes and sitting on a cloud, looking down at a ship floating in the water below me. Now, I know I'm dreaming at this point, because how else could I be flying? Or rather, floating, since I'm just hanging in one place. I try to fly down closer to the ship, 'cause you know, it's my dream and all, but for some reason I can't move. Strangely enough, though, my dream self doesn't feel at all worried. I can remember thinking in my dream, 'oh, well. I guess I'm staying here. Whatever.' It was like I didn't even care what happened.
Now, if I was awake and lucid when this was happening I would have panicked, because I'm extremely claustrophobic. That's the fear of small spaces, for those of you who don't know. I can't stand anything that restricts my movement, so even sleeping bags are usually a no-no. Irrational fears aside, however, there was something really weird going on down on the deck of that pirate ship.
Beside the mast, looking as though he'd just been dragged through hell and back, was my dad, though he looked about twenty years younger than he was back in the real world. He was standing very still, surrounded on all sides by very big, very scary men with swords who looked like they'd fought through hell and won. They were kinda making this growling noise deep in their throats, almost as if they wanted to leap on my dad and tear him to shreds. Don't ask me how I could hear them from where I was, 'cause I honestly don't know.
Above the deck, hanging from one end of the yardarm, is a huge net, and even my dream self is shocked when I see myself and my older brother, also both about twenty years younger, sitting in it crying. Now, this was an even bigger shock to me because my older brother had died seven years ago in a random shooting, in my senior year of high school. He was found on the side of the street two hours after the approximate time of death by a police officer patrolling the area.
The police at the station said that it was the strangest case they'd ever seen, 'cause the bullet that killed my brother supposedly came from a gun that had stopped being made two-hundred years ago. They couldn't figure out how anyone could have gotten their hands on one, and even if they could have, no one alive could have gotten it working again.
My dad, who was the most broken up about it, didn't even take it any further. I was shocked when he just nodded and said 'okay' when the police said that there was nothing they could do to find my brother's killer and that we'd be better off worrying about the funeral than the case. I tried to reason with my father, but he just got this look in his eye and told me to drop it, saying that we had to listen to what the police said.
That was when I decided to move out of the house. I packed my bag that night and left, yelling that I wasn't going to stay in the house with a man who didn't care whether his son's killers were ever found. Before I closed the door, though, I turned and apologized to my mother, saying that I was sorry to put her through this but I couldn't stay any longer. Then I got in the car my parents had bought me for my eighteenth birthday, a beat-up but still useable Chevy, and drove off.
I found myself an apartment a mile from my house, and managed to get enough money to stay there until I was done with high school. Fortunately I had already been offered a scholarship to a liberal arts college, so I took it. At this point I had gotten over my fit of anger towards my father and could see his reasoning, so I called him up to apologize and tell him where I was going.
Right before I picked up the phone, it rang. I froze, and then picked up the receiver, seeing my dad's cell phone number on the caller ID as I brought it to my ear. For some reason my heart was beating faster than it should have been, almost as if I knew what had happened before my father even said anything.
His voice was choked up when I answered and I could tell he'd been crying, so the first thing I said to him was, "what happened?" He let out a heavy, shuddering sigh, and said in the most heart-wrenchingly pain-filled voice I'd ever heard him use, "Your mother died less than an hour ago. She had a heart attack and the medics couldn't do anything for her."
For one minute I thought my heart had stopped as well. I clutched the cord as though I could use it to drag my mother back to me, from wherever she had disappeared to. When I could breathe again, I said, "Where is she now?"
My father hesitated, and then said, "We're both at the city hospital." He paused, and then launched into speech anxiously. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you, sweetheart. It was just that it all happened so fast that I couldn't reach a phone, and I was there by your mother the whole time, and… and… oh, I'm so sorry. I know you would have wanted to see her before she went."
I felt tears welling up in my eyes as well, and I shook my head, belatedly remembering that we were using a phone and therefore my dad couldn't see any motions I might have made. "No, dad," I said. "I understand. It's my fault anyway, for not being there these last few months. Can you forgive me?" My dad paused, and when he finally spoke his voice sounded more choked up than it had a moment ago.
"Of course, sweetie. I already have. Come down to the hospital as soon as you can, and we'll talk more there. I love you." I whispered goodbye to him and hung up the phone, finally breaking down into tears.
The rest of the next seven years passed in a blur of sadness, study, and finally graduation from my liberal arts college with high honors and a degree in English literature and science, though all of my accomplishments were tainted by the knowledge that my mom would never know how well I had done. After graduation I moved in with my dad, and had been staying there for the past three months before my twenty-fifth birthday.
Sitting on my cloud reminiscing, I of course missed what happened next in my dream, but when I finally remembered to look down at the ship there was a man standing at the top of a flight of stairs leading down to the main deck. He had black, curly hair that came to his shoulders and piercing blue eyes that didn't miss a thing. I had the feeling that the man even knew I was there in the sky, and I just wasn't important enough to be bothered with. A breeze swirled around the ship, and the man's bright red coat swept around behind him, allowing me a quick peek at his clothes.
He had on a white shirt with wide, flowing sleeves, and over it was a vest in the same blood red as his coat, with gold thread around the hem and breast pocket. The legs of his fawn-colored pants were tucked into a pair of calf high black boots with small silver buckles on the toes. Hanging from his belt was a sword similar to the ones the rest of the men were holding, and on a shoulder strap there hung a pistol, with a silver barrel and a dark brown wooden handle with a hint of red in the grain. Again, don't ask me how I knew this from so far away, 'cause I wouldn't be able to explain.
The wind died down again, and the man in red stepped down the stairs onto the deck. A small, round man was running along behind him, panting, and his eyes seemed somehow kind behind the small spectacles perched on his nose. The man in red stopped in front of my father and sneered.
"This is Peter Pan?" He asked contemptuously. I snickered quietly to myself. Obviously this guy had confused my dad's name with the famous flying boy's like everyone else had. 'My dad's name is Peter Pein, not Peter Pan, idiot,' I thought to myself. 'Peter Pan doesn't exist.'
The man in red sniffed, turning his back on my father. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting his shoulders slump dejectedly. "I knew bringing your children here would draw you to me, but I had no idea you had forgotten Neverland. Now I'll never get my final revenge on Peter Pan, what I have wanted these many years." My father stood up straight at this, glaring daggers at the man before him. "You took my children?"
The man smiled wickedly, knowing that my father had risen to the bait, and turned around again. "Of course! I even left a note on the nursery door. Signed and all." The man paused a moment, and then whipped out his left hand from where it had been residing in his coat pocket. He laid it over his heart and made a mocking bow. "Captain James Hook at your service."
My eyes widened, 'cause when he had taken his hand out of his pocket I saw that it wasn't really a hand. It was a hook, dagger sharp and glinting in the sun wickedly. I saw my father pale at the sight of the weapon, and he stumbled backwards until he was leaning against the mast. "You can't be! Hook doesn't exist!"
Captain Hook threw back his head and laughed. "Doesn't exist!? Well then, I suppose I must not really be here, correct? And if I'm not really here it stands to reason that if I slit the two children's throats they wouldn't really die, is that right?"
My father simply stood there, paralyzed, but when Hook made the motion telling the men to kill me and my brother he shouted, "No!"
Hook looked at him in mocking surprise. "So you realize I'm real now, do you? Well, now that you've realized the extent of the danger you're in, I'm going to let you all go free." My father blinked, stunned, and I could feel the same look of shock on my face as well.
Hook grins. "Oh, I almost forgot. There is a catch." My father's fists tighten.
"What's the catch?" He asks through gritted teeth. Hook makes a wide sweeping motion in the direction of the net and said, "If you can climb up and touch your children's hands, I'll let you all go free. If you fail…" He smirked. "I still free you all, but I choose one child to return to me in twenty years. I can always use more servants. I honestly don't care which, but if I had to choose…" He looked up at the net, his eyes drifting from my brother's terrified face to mine, and he frowned at the realization that there was no sign of fear on my face.
"Why aren't you afraid, girl?" Hook asked me angrily, and somehow I knew what the younger me was going to say before she said it.
"Because you're not scary." The younger me said, and Hook burst out laughing.
"That's the kind of attitude I like in a girl," he said, still laughing. "You have courage, lass, and I could use someone with that kind of courage. Besides… everyone knows what good maids women make." He turned back to my father, who was shaking with rage. "So, Pan. If you lose you send your daughter back to me in twenty years, but if you win you all go free. How's that for a deal?"
My father glared at him, but finally sighed. "It's a deal." He reached out his hand, and Hook held out his. They clasped hands briefly, both letting go as soon as possible. Then my father turned to the mast and looked up at the net, gulping.
My heart pounded as I remembered that my father used to have a paralyzing fear of heights when I was younger. I remember that he couldn't even look out of the window at the building where he worked, where his office was located on the twentieth floor. Now he had to climb a twenty foot distance and reach out a hand into empty air in order to save his children. He would never be able to do it.
With his jaw set in a firm line, however, he began to climb, gripping the sides of the mast tightly and pulling himself up the smooth wood inch by inch. The pirates all jeered at him, laughing and making loud bets concerning how soon he would fall. Finally, though, he reached the yardarm and climbed onto it, wrapping his arms around the circumference of the log and scooting forward on his stomach.
With me silently cheering him on, my dad eventually reached my brother and I. He stretched out a hand timidly, sweat beading on his brow with the strain. My brother's hand and mine both poked through the holes in the net, and we strained to reach him, but we were short by barely two inches. Us kids reached farther, but my dad couldn't go farther because of his fear. Eventually the strain of holding on to the yardarm and dangling over the gently rocking deck grew too much for my dad, and he pulled his hand back.
Hook laughed wickedly. "I knew you couldn't do it! Imagine, men! The famous Peter Pan, afraid of heights!" The rest of the crew erupted into gales of laughter, and I lowered my head as my father was pulled from the yardarm by one of the pirates. Hook stood over him, leering down at his prone figure, but as I sat in the sky staring at him, all I could think was how handsome he was. He was easily six-foot five and towered over all of the other pirates by at least half a foot, and his bright blue eyes were set in a strong, firm face, with surprisingly soft-looking lips. His teeth, as I had noticed earlier, were white and straight, almost unheard of in the times when pirates roamed the seas, and when he smiled I got a little shiver up my spine that had nothing to do with fear.
Shaking myself out of my little ogle-fest, I watched as Hook had my father, my brother, and me led down the gangplank and to shore, where a small fluttering light flitted around us, sprinkling golden sparkles down on top of us. Hook grinned wickedly at my father, and then at the younger me, who was clutching my father's hand. "Don't forget, Pan. The girl comes back to me in twenty years."
My father glowered at Hook. "And what will happen if I refuse?" Hook glared down at him harshly, and even up in the sky I flinched as though it was me he was looking at like he wanted to kill them.
"Then I'll come and kill your family. Your wife and son, at least, and then take the girl myself. So either you do what I say and bring the girl to me of your own free will, or I take her from you and kill everyone else that's precious to you." He grinned menacingly. "How's that sound?"
My father looked up at him fearfully, knowing he meant every word. "But how will I get her here? I don't know how to fly, and I'm not going to teach Maggie!" Looking puzzled, Hook stroked the rough stubble on his chin thoughtfully, and another shiver goes through me at the sight of his long, slender fingers running across his jaw, where mine suddenly wanted to rest.
Finally his face cleared, and he grinned, never a good sign, from what I had seen. "I'll come get her myself, then." My father looked at Hook in shock.
"Are you crazy?!" He shouted, looking at Hook as if he were insane. Hook smiled back at him calmly.
"No, I don't think so. I prefer to think of myself as sane, at least most of the time." He smiled at my dad. "If I get your daughter myself, there's less chance of you… forgetting, as I assume you were planning on doing. And you just admitted that there's no other way she could return to Neverland, so it looks like this is your only option."
Peter sighed resignedly. "Alright. But if you harm one hair on her head..." Hook's smile widened.
"That's not your decision to make, is it Peter? Now that she belongs to me, I could kill her if I wished to, and you could do nothing to stop me. So why don't you run home to your wife already. I'm, sure she misses you terribly." He turned to face my younger self. "I'll see you again soon, my dear Maggie. Just wait."
As my father lifted off of the ground with my brother and I in tow, and with Tinkerbell guiding him, the dream started to fade. Just before it had disappeared completely, however, I looked down at the ship to see Hook staring at me, smiling. As that familiar shiver runs down my spine, I can almost hear the notes of a song drifting into the air. 'You belong to me, my snow white queen...'
(Okay folks, this is a test chapter. For those of you who haven't realized it or haven't seen the movie, this fanfic is based on the movie Hook with Robin Williams. I didn't like how that movie turned out, so I changed it a little. This fanfic is still going under Peter Pan, though, 'cuz that's kinda what it is. Sorry it's taking so long for me to get the next chapter of JCJR out, but I've kinda hit another roadblock. Sorry! R&R peoples!)