Chapter 5 - Temptation

 

While Smee went to fetch the scissors, Hook roused Peter.  The boy woke easily and when he realized where he was, fought to release himself from the pirate’s hold.  Hook tightened his grip painfully, and Peter stopped struggling.  He looked at Hook warily, expecting the man to attack him again.  He tried to speak, to tell the man to let him go, but found that no words would come.  Instead, a high, whistling noise came out, accompanied by a raw, scratchy pain in his throat.

Hook chuckled and shook his head.  “Don’t speak,” he admonished, “you screamed yourself mute.  Be quiet for awhile and I’ll give you something to drink to ease it.  Give your throat a rest and your voice will return.”  He poured some water from a jug on his desk into a cup and handed it to the boy.  Peter drank, savoring the cool relief it gave his poor throat.  When he was done, Hook took the cup and wet a handkerchief.  He went to wipe Peter’s red, swollen face, but paused when the boy flinched and jerked away.

This will be easier if I can ever get him to trust me.  Not likely to happen anytime soon, but I might as well start now.  He’s never feared me before, but he’s learning to now.  Fear is good, it will keep him obedient, but I don’t want him terrorized. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said with a sigh.  He set the boy on his knee so that they could see each other easier, but kept a grip on the boy’s arm.  He saw Peter frown, disbelief evident.  “I know I attacked you.  You were holding a weapon on Smee, and I thought you were going to do something stupid again.  You remember now what else happened the night you tried to escape, don’t you?”

Peter’s eyes widened at the reminder, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to explain what’s happened, because I want you to understand.  You are right to be afraid:  I have hurt you a lot in the week you’ve been here, in ways I’ve never hurt anyone before.  But I will not cause you pain unless you do something that I believe warrants it.  If you behave, you have no reason to fear me.  Now, as to what I did to you that night, I will never do that to you again, no matter what you do.  I’m sure that I cannot, even if I should ever want to.  Now listen.  When I took you, I used magic to disconnect you from Neverland.”  Peter nodded and he continued, “That same spell created a connection between you and me, so that I could replace Neverland when you were lost to it, so that it wouldn’t hurt you so much or drive you insane.  But I did it wrongly, and I interfered with how it should have been done, so that the connection was one-sided and pained you. 

“When you tried to escape, and attacked me…” Hook paused at the memory, finding that it still galled him.  “After I had given you special consideration and care, going so far as to devote a man I needed on deck to watch you, and allowing you to sleep in my cabin instead of the brig, you dared to abuse my trust and try to escape.  I became so angry that I wanted to hurt you.  You felt all of my anger, and were powerless.  I lost control of myself, and I did things that I regret.  I didn’t realize that I was pouring all my anger and hate into you, or that it was hurting you.  Your mind broke under the strain, because you didn’t have a way to stop it, and no way to return the feelings back to me.” He saw that Peter remembered and understood.

“It wasn’t until then that I realized something was wrong with you.  It was horrible,” he glanced away from the intensity of Peter’s stare, “I couldn’t feel you anymore.  I almost killed you.  You wouldn’t wake or move.  I was able to use the magic one last time to find you and put the pieces back together.  I had to take back all the anger and hate so that you could heal.  I repaired our connection so that it was right.  It is a mutual bonding, and is supposed to grow over time.  I don’t think I can hurt you like that anymore; you can protect yourself if I were to ever try.  We’re equal in it now, where before I forced it into you and tried to conquer you.  That’s why it hurt you before but not now. 

“No matter how angry I get at you, I don’t want you to panic thinking I will break your mind again.  I may hurt you, but it will be no worse than I would punish Jukes or any other man on my ship.  Do you understand?”

Peter nodded, relief palpable in his eyes.

Smee entered again, bearing the scissors.  Hook muttered to the boy, “We will talk more of this later, if you have questions. This bond is between you and me, and is no-one else’s business.”

Smee pulled out a footstool, and Hook set Peter upon it.  The boy frowned menacingly at the scissors and shook his head.  “Sorry, Pan.  You are not a wild-child any longer.  You’re to be tamed now, and become a member of my crew.  I tolerate the crew to go about for days unwashed because water is precious at sea.  But I’ll not have filthy vermin on my ship.  Especially since you are to be my cabin-boy,” Peter crossed his arms defiantly and glared at that, “I expect you to bathe as regularly as possible, and keep neat.  I do not care how long or short you wear your hair, but yours is so filthy and matted that it is now unmanageable.  It is going to be cut, and you can grow it out again as long as you keep it clean and combed.  Now, you can sit still for your haircut, or I’ll have you tied and make you sit for it.”

Peter continued to glare angrily, but did not object as Smee began cutting.  He kept his mind occupied by drinking the hot, extremely weak coffee Smee supplied him with.  His throat eased and by the time the haircut was done he found he could speak softly without pain or coughing.

They left as much length as possible to his hair.  Once they had cut the older, more gnarled growth, Smee was able to comb out the knots in the remainder of his hair.  Peter didn’t fight, even when it hurt, fearing they would cut it all off if he complained.  When they were done, it hung just above his shoulders (where before it had fallen to between his shoulder-blades), and could be tied back still if Peter wished.  Once it was detangled, Smee set about washing it.  He soaped and rinsed it three times before he was satisfied he had gotten all the dirt, leaves, and pixie-dust residue out. 

After that ordeal, Smee presented Peter with his new clothes. 

“Where are my old clothes?” Peter wondered aloud.  He wanted his familiar brown shorts and shirt, needing the comfort of things that were his.

“Sorry, lad.  Cap’n’s orders were to burn most o’ yer clothes,” Smee said as he handed the new ones to Peter.

“You had been wearing them far too long.  They were filthy and ragged.  Besides, they were soaked in untold years worth of pixie-dust, and I don’t want you to have contact with that substance ever again,” Hook growled, wanting no argument on the matter. 

Peter said nothing further and began putting the clothes on.  The pants were black and a bit baggy, with the legs rolled up and hemmed.  The white shirt buttoned up, and was likewise a bit baggy, sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.  He was also given a belt with some new holes put in so it would fit his small waist, a pair of stocking socks, and his old boots (the cut in the right one had been repaired with some rawhide).

When he was dressed (he left the boots off to save his sore foot), Hook stood him before the full length mirror so he could see.  Peter stared at his reflection, astounded.  He looked so different; he almost thought he was seeing another boy.  Despite the bruised face, he thought he looked delightful – except he would rather wear his own clothes.

“I’m a pirate,” he muttered in disbelief.

Hook chuckled, he himself impressed with how Peter looked.  “No, boy.  You have a lot to learn and prove before you can call yourself a sailor, much less a pirate.”

“I don’t want to be a pirate,” Peter grumbled.

“Well, you lost, boy.  So now you get to learn to be a pirate.  Don’t fight it.  Accept it and you’ll become the greatest pirate to sail the seas!  Killing you would have been a terrible waste.  I am going to get much more satisfaction from watching you grow up into the man I have seen within you.”  Hook turned Peter toward him and knelt down to his eye level.  He knew Peter was rather conceited, and decided to try appealing to that conceit.  “You stood against me, James Hook, through countless battles.  You, a little boy, bested the most feared pirate to sail the Spanish Main!”  Fine, so I’m a bit conceited, too, but it’s true.  “That day I had you tied to the mast, ready to kill you, you changed what I wanted to do with you.  Even with death looking you in the eye, you stood proud, unafraid.  I suddenly thought, ‘What if Peter Pan were a pirate?  One of my own men?’  The thought took my breath away.  With your cunning, speed, agility, courage and skill, coupled with my knowledge, strength, experience and ruthlessness – we would be unstoppable.  You will have the greatest adventures, Peter.  You’ll grow up and one day have your own ship and crew.  You’ll be ‘Captain Pan’ and your enemies will fear your very name!”

Peter had found himself caught up in Hook’s vision, and smiled at the idea.  It definitely appealed to him.  He looked at the mirror again and imagined himself as Captain Pan, scourge of the seven seas.  He laughed, and then stopped.  He thought of his friends and what they would say if they saw how he looked.  The Lost Boys would be impressed, but he knew Tink would be disappointed.  He saw his old self in the mirror, a youth clad in brown, flying with his friends by his side.

Not even realizing he was speaking aloud, he mused quietly, “I’ve already had great adventures, the likes of which no pirate’s ever seen.  And now I’ll never have them again.  I don’t want to be feared.  My boys followed me because they loved and trusted me.  Now they think I’m dead, and I know that they’re sad.  I don’t want to grow up to be a captain.  I was meant to be a child, and live forever.  It’s what my mommy wanted for me.  I can feel myself dying already!  How can something that dies be right?”  He felt the tears coming and stood up straighter.  “But, it’s done now.  I have few choices left, and only one that doesn’t involve my death.”  He looked at Hook, who was staring at him speechless.  He smiled wistfully and looked beyond to Smee.

“Thank you for my clothes, Mr. Smee.  They look grand.  I’ll try to take care of them,” he said and coughed as his voice cracked.

“Yer welcome, lad.  Don’ worry if ye gets ‘im dirty or ripped.  Ol’ Smee will fix ‘em up right, and show ya how to do it, too.  Ye’ll be growin’ out of ‘em eventually, so ye’ll get new ones later on,” Smee babbled, happy for the boy’s gratitude.

Suddenly, Peter felt dizzy and sat down hard.

“Boy?” Hook asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, I just needed to sit,” he muttered, closing his eyes to keep the vertigo at bay.

“Well, you can sit outside, then.  I want you where I can keep an eye on you.  You will watch the men work, and I want you to pay attention.  You need to learn how things are done on this ship.  You have a lot to learn and your lessons start today,” Hook helped Peter stand and led him out onto the deck.