By Hook or By Crook

Syn

R

I do not own these characters.

Summary: Hook shows Wendy the inevitability of death.

Notes: Written for lilly_rose for my Holiday Ficathon Project.

 

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Wendy Darling sits upon the shore of the vast sea swelling fathoms deep around Neverland, chin on her fist, eyes searching the sky.  Never-birds take wing on the zephyrs, circling, searching for Never-fish jumping out of the water for the insects that buzz at dusk.  A rosy, smiling sun sinks slowly toward the horizon, hissing as it hits the water like eggs in a skillet.  A salty sea breeze flutters the humidity-curled hair on Wendy's shoulders and she breathes deeply, face tilted toward the painted sky.

 

Never-bugs drone aimlessly, fat bodies bumping the surface of the shallows where Wendy has dipped her feet.  Hungry fish squirm around her toes and she wiggles them, fishy mouths nipping gently.  A smile graces her lips.  A Never-bird, skimming low over the surface of the water, lands next to her, wind from its flapping, bright wings blowing her hair from her face in refreshing gusts. 

 

"Hello," Wendy says brightly. "Have you seen Peter?"

 

The Never-bird folds its wings close to its fat feathery body and cocks its bright head at her, one jewel-bright, beady eye fixed on her face for a moment before it bends over, spearing a fish near Wendy's feet with the tip of its sharp beak.  Having not expected any sort of answer from the bird, Wendy watches in fascination as the silvery-scaled fish squirms in its beak.  Tossing its head, the Never-bird swallows the wriggling fish, gulping greatly several times before the bulge passes from its crop. 

 

Wendy's gaze softens to sadness, having watched the valiant fish fight for every bit of life, only to have been swallowed whole.  A chill rides up her spine suddenly and the warm day and salty, sultry breeze does little to fend it off. 

 

A shadow falls across the rippling, rock-strewn water and Wendy slowly turns her head to greet the figure standing behind her. 

 

Captain James Hook, one hand on the trunk of a thick tree looks down imperiously at her.  His hook glints at his narrow hip.  His stance is deceptively relaxed, but Wendy knows that the man is quick upon his feet.  She thinks of running for a moment, but she knows she cannot get far and it has been many hours since Tink's fairy dust has worn off. 

 

She is trapped.

 

"I..." Wendy starts, breath stuttering over her lips.  The Never-bird, its attention on the fishy water once more, takes sudden notice of the shadow and turns its beady eyes on Hook. 

 

He moves so quickly that had Wendy blinked, she is sure she might have missed it altogether.  Hook's wicked weapon flashes and the Never-bird squawks slightly, wings fluttering desperately.  Hot blood splashes across the white of Wendy's nightdress and across her cheeks. 

 

Eyes wide with horror, Wendy looks down at the Never-bird, whose neck has been severed in half.  The savaged bird falls on its side, wings twitching, clawed feet kicking feebly.  Several agonizingly long moments later the Never-bird is still.  Bright feathers and soft down, freed by the violence of its passing, float about the corpse like snow. 

 

Unable to believe what she has seen, Wendy stares at the ruin of the Never-bird.  Slowly, a hot tear escapes the corner of her burning, dancing eyes and spills down her cheeks.  Wendy tears her gaze from the dead bird and looks upon its murderer.

 

"You killed it," she says on a shocked sob. 

 

"Yes," he says as the red of his eye gleams with malicious intent.  He lifts his curved claw, blood dripping down the steel to the ruin of his wrist.  The sword at his hip isn't nearly as wicked as that deadly appendage and Wendy knows the truth of it now.  His mouth, corners curling upward under the influence of some amusement known only to him, draws her startled, terrified attention.

 

"Why?" Wendy cries, drawn into his gleaming red eyes, which follow her every movement like the earth following the sun across the sky.

 

"My sweet Wendy," he says, hatred and longing in his voice as he places the wicked hook beneath her chin.  The cold, blood-kissed steel is like the caress of a lover on her throat.  Her eyes flutter against her cheeks, eyelashes brushing tear-stained skin. "Don't you know what death is?"

 

Wendy stares at him, tears falling hotly, quickly down her cheeks now. "Of course I know what it is.  It's a horrid thing."

 

"An inevitable, beautiful thing," Hook corrects her fiercely, scarlet eyes flashing.  His tongue darts along the amused curve of his lower lip, moistening the dry skin.

 

"How can you say that?" Wendy chokes, flinching away from his hook, the Never-bird's blood running down her throat to soak into the neck of her nightdress. "What you did to that bird was the ugliest, the foulest--"

 

"Death would have come for it, sooner or later," Hook says serenely. "I did it a kindness."

 

"You did no such thing, Hook," Wendy dares, standing, her feet digging into the rocks peppering the shore.  Hook, his kaleidoscope eyes slowly changing back to periwinkle blue, stares at her, wiping his hook free of blood on a monogrammed handkerchief he pulls from his sleeve. "It was young and strong!  If you hadn't killed it, it would have lived a hundred more years!"

 

"That is why it was a kindness," Hook says, hissing his sibilants. "Do you know what a burden long life is?"

 

Wendy falters, teary gaze clouded with confusion. "No..."

 

"I shall tell you, Ms. Darling," Hook says, approaching her.  Wendy tenses, but she has nowhere to run.  The sea is at her back and the safety of the jungle lies beyond Hook's menacing form.  She flinches as he dabs the tears and blood from her cheeks.  He is so gentle she can scarcely believe it. "My crew and I sailed the Jolly Roger into the abyss that is Neverland many ages ago.  I attempted to keep count of the endless days, but it is impossible here, as you might have discovered yourself.  Time flows here like the sea to shore.  We cannot count by the moon or the sun or the stars for we are beyond them.  And here I have languished, in a place without time and thus I shall languish until my days are done by a wonderful kindness."

 

"Death?" Wendy says as Hook drops his hand.

 

"Beautiful, merciless death," Hook says reverently.

 

"You don't want to die," Wendy says sagely.

 

"No, I do not," Hook says grimly. "I want to cling to this life by hook or by crook, but some things are inevitable.  I am not your precious Peter.  I cannot last forever.  In the end, death will be a kindness to me and I shall embrace it when it comes, as must we all.  Except for your Peter, of course."

 

"You hate him for that, don't you?" Wendy says, eyeing Hook's care-worn face.  He looks out to sea, where the Never-birds soar, plummeting down to catch fresh fish to store in their crops. "Unlike you, he'll never die naturally.  Is that why you want to kill him?"

 

"Perhaps," Hook says. "But you must also realize, Wendy, that you and I are the same in that manner.  One day you must die too."

 

"Not if I stay in Neverland," Wendy says, a desperate feeling taking up residence in her stomach. Hook looks at her hard, eyes like chips of the coldest ice.

 

"Do you really believe that you'll stay?"

 

"I..." Wendy falters and looks away. "It doesn't matter.  Peter--"

 

"Think hard on this, Wendy," Hook cuts across her, his voice low. "When I kill Pan, will I be doing him a kindness?  Do not answer right away.  Think on it.  You won't stay in Neverland; you know you can't.  He'll be alone--"

 

"He'll have the Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, but Hook smiles coldly.

 

"And if they leave him too?"

 

"Tink!  She'll stay!"

 

"Fairies don't live forever, not even in Neverland.  Imagine Pan alone, with nothing, not even his Wendy to keep him free of the memories of his long life.  Will it be a kindness to end that suffering, to send his soul beyond with the other souls?  Or should he stay in this youthful purgatory, living his adventures until time winds down to the end of all things?"

 

"He'd think it a great adventure if you did," Wendy says, breathing hard, trying not to imagine Peter in this manner, "but he would not feel alone; you know he can't."

 

"Ah, do you think so?" Hook says, arching one exquisite eyebrow in her direction. She cannot tell what he's thinking, but the look in his eyes sends a feeling of foreboding through her heart.  Anger wells in her.

 

"I think you're an arrogant, cruel man who kills out of pure hatred for every living thing.  There is not one drop of kindness in you, only poison that flows through your veins, James Hook," Wendy says, standing tall. "You murdered an innocent bird out of sheer spite.  It was not kind, it was ugly and the deed is as black as your languishing soul.  It would be a kindness to the rest of the world if you were gone from it."

 

"Strong words from a small girl-child," Hook says through gritted teeth, hand on the hilt of his sword.  Wendy's gaze flicks from it to his face and back again.  She does not fear his sword, however.  It is his wicked hook that concerns her and as she watches, he lifts it, pushing her hair out of her face with the razor-sharp tip.  Wendy trembles, but doesn't flinch away. "I could do to you at this moment what I did to the Never-bird."

 

"And will you?" she asks with a quaver in her voice.

 

Hook smiles unexpectedly. "No, I shan't."

 

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Wendy asks, eyes on the hook hovering near her throat again.

 

But Hook does not answer.  He lowers his arm, the clawed appendage dropping to his hip again.  He steps out of the way, allowing her a path into the safety of the thick, green jungle.  Night is slowly ebbing in on them as the sun drifts, hissing hotly, into the flowing sea.  The Never-birds have finished feasting and are riding currents of warm night air back toward land.  Stars twinkle in the rosy purple sky, sending watery white light down on them. 

 

Wendy looks at Hook, who stares impassively at her. "Hurry home, he is waiting for you."

 

Wendy starts forward, edging past Hook's lithe form, the chill running down her spine again.  Just as she passes, he grabs her arm in his hand, pulling her backward a step.  Startled, she cries out, expecting pain, but none comes.  Hook lets go of her arm and takes her hand in his good hand.  He presses something soft and damp into her palm and then lets his hand slide away. 

 

Confused, Wendy looks down at the object in her hand.  It is the bloody, tear-dampened handkerchief he'd cleaned her face with.  His initials are embroidered in gold on the edges in fancy script.  Wendy looks up, but Hook has gone, sunk back into the shadows now lining the jungle-choked shore.  Shaking, Wendy backs away from the sea and darts into the underbrush, green vines whipping at her bare feet, damp earth dirtying her toes as she takes off toward the Hanging Tree. 

 

She does not look back for fear she'll see his crimson eyes staring at her from the depths of the darkening jungle.  As she runs, she clutches the handkerchief to her breast, though why, she does not know.

 

(end)

 

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