Chapter 1: A Proposal

            If there was one thing Captain James Hook of the Jolly Roger was sure of, it was that he hated Neverland.  For one, it was a bloody waste of time seeing as there was little to plunder from a bunch of teenage boys.  For two, it went from bright and sunny one moment to bloody storming the next, the weather changing on a whim.  Quite literally at that.  The weather, like everything else on the blasted island, was subject to the whims of a very specific demon.  Which brings us to the third and probably most important reason why Captain Hook despised Neverland.

            Peter Pan.

            As it was, the captain was sprawled in his chair, more than a few empty bottles of rum littering his desk.  Most were from last night.  The sudden cheerful weather made him abstain from drinking his liver into oblivion for the morning at least.  Though the demon’s very existence made him want to do just that.

            There was a knock on the door.  The pirate sighed, straightening his posture to something resembling military.

            “What is it?” he snapped.

            The door creaked open and in came the stout little man that served as boatswain of the Jolly Roger, Philip Sawkins.  The crew all called him Saw because who has the time to bother with the second syllable of a name?

            “Storm’s let up, cap’n,” the man said.

            Hook rolled his eyes.  “Thank you for the much needed report of the bloody obvious.”

            The shorter man had the decency to look embarrassed.

            “Well the men are talking, saying they wanna send a crew ashore,” he reported.

            “And why do they want to go to shore?” the captain narrowed his eyes.

            His boatswain swallowed nervously and then looked pointedly at the hook secured in the stump of his arm.

            “You’re our cap’n,” Saw said, “There’s no way we’d forgive such an insult.”

            “If you lot are looking to die,” he gestured carelessly with his hook, “be my guest.  Otherwise, stay away from the bloody demon.”

            “What’re you planning cap’n?” the man asked, shaking his head, “You ain’t gonna let him go, are ya?”

            Hook’s lips twisted into a dark grin.  “Oh, don’t worry Saw.”

            The captain sauntered over to the shorter man, throwing his good arm around his shoulders.

            “I’m going to take this hook-” he pressed it to Saw’s sternum, “and drive it into the bastard’s heart.  I’m going to enjoy the pathetic look on his face.  And then I’m gonna get very drunk and we’ll leave this bloody island in the morning.”

            He released the man, returning to his desk and resting against the edge.

            “But I’m not letting half the crew die in the process.  Can’t exactly get home on my lonesome now, can I?”

            The boatswain braved a smile.  “Of course, cap’n.  So what should I tell the men?”

            “Just gather the lot,” Hook said, “’Bout time for a captain’s address, isn’t it?”

            “Of course, cap’n,” Saw said.

            The captain watched him leave before sighing.  He could put on a show of confidence for the men all he liked, it wouldn’t change the fact that killing the demon king of Neverland wouldn’t be easy.  Hook just fancied his odds of not getting killed for the attempt.  And as long as he was alive, he would try to kill the bastard.

            Outside his cabin, he could hear the men gathering and swallowed another sigh.  Time to be their captain.

            Hook grabbed his jacket from off the back of his chair and shrugged it on.  The sleeve caught on his hook, making him scowl as he tugged it free.  Once the jacket was settled, he caressed the piece of metal with his remaining hand.  The demon had stolen everything from him.  And everyone knew that when you stole from a pirate, you ended up six feet under.  Or buried at sea.  It wasn’t as if he was particularly picky about where he disposed of his enemies.

            Captain Hook left his cabin, hand coming up to shield his eyes from the blazing sun.  A week of storms had left him unaccustomed to anything but overcast skies.

            “So what’s the plan cap’n?” Morris, the quartermaster, asked.

            “Isn’t it obvious?” Hook forced a debonair grin, “We kill Peter Pan and get off this bloody island!”

            A cheer of approval went up amongst the men.  They were already sick of Neverland, he could tell.  No doubt wanting to get back to a civilized port where they could blow their portions of loot on drink and women.

            As the shouting died down, Hook prepared himself to continue.

            “You called?” a familiar voice drawled.

            Every man froze, staring at the boy who had materialized in front of their captain, looking up at him with pure mischief in his eyes.  His tunic and trousers were simple, in earthy tones, just like any other street rat.  But there was something in his unnaturally vivid green eyes that made even the most feared pirate crew take pause.

            The moment shattered, three gunmen drawing swords and charging at the newcomer.  The boy merely cracked his neck.  Then glanced at them.

            The men froze, swords still raised.

            “So little discipline,” the boy shook his head, turning his attention to Hook, “I’m a little disappointed in you, captain.”

            “Let them go,” Hook glowered.

            “They attacked me,” he pouted.

            “Well then, you should stay off the Jolly Roger.  You know you’re not welcome,” the pirate said.

            The boy laughed.  “You’re in Neverland, my darling captain, I can go anywhere I please.”

            “Just…release them,” the captain snarled, not daring to look away from the demon.

            “Fine,” said demon shrugged.

            The gunmen crashed to the deck, gasping for breath.  Though Hook longed to check on his men, he knew that doing so would only make things worse.

            “But if they attack me again….” The boy’s lips twisted into a very unboyish grin, “I won’t be so nice.”

            “So what the hell do you want, Pan?” Hook snapped.

            Peter Pan chuckled, disappearing before reappearing inches from his face.

            “I wanted to see you,” he said, “It’s been awhile, captain.”

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            “You’re the one who made it storm for a bloody week.”

            “Right you are, captain.  Sorry about that, by the way, had some business to take care of.  Didn’t want you to wander off.”

            As if anyone could leave the island without its king’s permission.

            The pirate lunged forward, grabbing the boy’s tunic.  The tip of his hook was mere inches from Pan’s chest before said boy, and it, disappeared yet again.  He reappeared sitting on the rail of the quarterdeck, twisting the hook between his fingers and laughing so hard that he clutched his side with his free hand.

            “I love your humor, Captain Hook,” he held it up, “So very fitting this.”

            “Glad it meets your approval,” Hook sighed, “Now can I have it back?”

            “Of course, my darling captain.  But first-” he materialized on the main deck to the vocal displeasure of the crew, “I have a proposal to make.”

            Hook glared at the boy, waiting for him to continue.  Pan merely stared back at him, all cheeky smile and evil glint in his eyes.  The pirate sighed for the umpteenth time.  If it was true that your life got shorter every time you sighed, he was in for a very short life.  Probably wouldn’t even make thirty.

            “What do you want, Pan?” he snapped, signaling from him to continue with his now-hookless stump.

            The cheeky grin grew into a truly gleeful smile and Hook wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

            “I want to play a game.  If you win, you can take this hook and drive it into my heart as you so wish.  Don’t think I’ll make a pathetic face though.”

            Hook forced himself to not react outwardly.  Honestly, he should’ve expected it.  Of course Pan would be able to hear everything around the bloody island.  Sometimes it felt like he was one with it.

            Pan chuckled.  “And if I win, well…we’ll find out, won’t we?”

            “No deal,” Hook said, “I know better than to make such a vague agreement with you.”

            Pan started pacing, paying no mind to the way the crew raised their swords every time he came near.

            “Fine.  The terms are this.  If you win, you can make any one demand of me,” he said, holding up both hands.  One, of course, held the hook.  As for the other, the air shimmered for a moment, for dramatic effect of course, the bastard.  Hook’s severed hand appeared.  The very same one that Pan himself had sawn off.

            “I could reattach your hand, if you like.  Or you could kill me,” he shrugged, “Your choice.”

            “And if you win?” Hook asked wearily.  It wasn’t as if the proposal wasn’t appealing.  Beating Pan at his own game would be easier than trying to catch him unaware.

            “You know what I want,” he said, sounding every bit the petulant child he looked.

            Hook scoffed.  “I’m not agreeing unless you spell it out.”

            Pan rolled his eyes.

            “No faith, captain.  Really, you wound me.”

            “Just spit it out.”

            “Fine.  I get you until sunrise.  No limits.”  Pan smirked.  “Except death.  Unfortunately, I’m not good at necromancy so that’s off the table.”

            Hook couldn’t meet the eyes of any of his crew members.  Of course he knew that the demon was trying to rile him, but the knowledge didn’t make it the slightest bit easier to bear such a proclamation made before his men.  Pan was, physically at least, around sixteen.  More man than boy really.  Only Neverland considered him a child, which had more to do with worldview than age.  There was no childish innocence in those statements.  And the whole crew knew it.

            But if he won, then he could kill Pan and be off the blasted island.  And that chance was too valuable to pass up.

            “What’s the game?” he asked.

            “Simple.  If you can make it to shore before midnight, it’s your victory,” Pan said.

            The pirate shook his head.  “Nothing’s ever that simple with you.”

            Pan’s ever present smirk widened.  “Fine, you get to shore without the help of your crew.  Or a rowboat.  If you don’t make it, you lose.  If I have to pull you out of the water because you’re about to die, you lose.”

            “And who decides what “about to die” means?”  The captain raised an eyebrow.

            The demon’s grin turned fiendish.  “Trust me captain, you’d be begging me to save you, had you the ability to scream.”

            “I’ve never begged for anything in my life,” Hook said.

            “We both know that’s not quite true.”  There was something oddly soft in the boy’s tone and expression.  

            It made Hook freeze for half a second.  But then he shouldered it aside, along with the memories that those words brought up.  He sure as hell didn’t want to hear about it from Pan’s lips.

            The demon’s expression rebuilt to its customary grin, Pan materializing in his personal space as if the moment of tenderness had never happened.

            “So captain, do we have a deal?”

            “Suppose we do.”  Hook swallowed a sigh, pretending like he wasn’t going to regret it later.

            “Good.”  Pan’s emerald green eyes didn’t waver from staring into his.

            The intensity of that gaze made the pirate swallow nervously.  “Can I have my hook back then?”

            “Of course, captain,” the demon said, ignoring the outstretched hand in favor of sliding the hook back into place himself.

            That was all Hook could take.  Being close to the demon was maddening.  He stalked over to port, surveying the water.  The quarterdeck would’ve been too high to jump from.  He couldn’t afford injury, lest of all when jumping into Neverland’s waters.  Even the seas were Pan’s territory and the horrors that undoubtedly lurked under the surface were matters better left to imagination.  Blood would only attract the attention of the monsters.  So no, the quarterdeck was squarely out.     

            “Oh, I forgot one thing,” Pan said, sounding far too pleased with himself for it to be anything good.

            “What?” Hook snapped, turning over his shoulder to glare at the “teenager”.

            “You need to walk the plank.”

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