Chapter 15 – A New Beginning

 

He first heard a sound.  He knew it was a sound, but he didn’t know what it was that he heard.  It was a deep thumping noise, steady and strong, and he listened to it and felt safe.  He gradually realized he heard another, similar sound.  This other one was faster and not as deep, but it was also steady and strong, and made a pleasant rhythm with the other one.  He felt warmth against one side of him, his skin pressed against something warm and firm, but soft. 

Someone’s holding me, he realized.  It kind of startled him, the thought when there had been no thoughts before, but he also realized that that was right, that thoughts were normal.  Who is holding me? he thought next, and a million other questions followed on the heels of that one. 

He opened his eyes, feeling the familiar but strange sensation of seeing.  He saw white.  Cloth, he realized, the someone’s shirt.  He stirred a bit, trying to turn his head and see more.  He heard the deep thumping quicken, and saw a strange face peering down at him.

“Peter?” Hook called softly, hoping that his prayer had been answered and he’d not damaged the boy permanently.

The boy frowned, not understanding what was going on.  “Who… who are you?” he asked fearfully.  He felt his fear grow at the strange expression on the man’s face.

He doesn’t remember me?  Hook thought in alarm.  The spell, the memory spell, it did this.  “What do you remember?” he asked.

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but nothing presented itself in his mind to be spoken for.  He started to shake, “I don’t remember anything.  Who am I?  Who are you?  Why can’t I remember?” he began to cry in fear, and the man’s arms tightened around him.

Hook held the boy, as he’d held him for the past several hours, and tried to collect his thoughts.  He doesn’t remember anything?  Is this permanent?  Will he recover?  There were too many questions and not enough answers.  An idea came to him, though, a whisper from somewhere.  This is a chance to start over.  He awoke from trauma once, long ago and became Peter Pan.  He can begin anew again now. 

“Calm down,” he soothed, “Your name is Peter.”

“Peter?” the boy repeated unsteadily.  That felt okay, so he said it again.  “Peter.  Who are you?” he asked.

The man looked down at him uncertainly for a moment, then said, “I’m your father, Peter.  I’m James Hook.  You are Peter Hook, my son.  Don’t be afraid, you were hurt but you’re better now.  I’m here and I love you, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”  I’m going to Hell, Hook thought, but it will be worth it if I can have him as my own.  I wonder if he’ll kill me when he remembers.

“Father,” Peter repeated.  “I’m Peter and you’re Father.  You love me?”  The man nodded at him and he relaxed.  The fear began to leave him somewhat at the reassurance, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep again.  “That’s good, I was afraid you were someone else.”

“Who?” Hook asked.

“I don’t remember.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m Peter and you’re Father, and you love me.” He fell into dreamless sleep, the sound of his father’s heart-beat reassuring him that he was safe and loved.

Hook smiled as he realized the possibilities of this new development.  He looked at the men that sat around the fire with him, and saw how they stared at him, amazed.  Smee, Mullins, Jukes, Mason, Starkey, Cookson, Little, Corzone, and McNeery, the men he knew were loyal to him, that had come to him with news of the mutiny some of the other men were planning. 

“We will deal with those mutinous dogs tonight,” Hook continued where the conversation had been interrupted by Peter’s awakening.  “Mr. Jukes will stay with Peter until it’s done.  Of the men still on the ship, how many will side with us?”

“Most of ‘em, Cap’n,” Mason replied.  “It’s mostly Davis and a few of the other disgruntled louts that’s causin’ trouble.  It won’t be hard to put down, but it’s gotta be nipped now.”

Hook nodded, “Oh it will be, do not doubt.  Now that Peter is recovering, I will be able to deal with them much more effectively.”

“What’s wrong with Peter,” Billy asked.  “Why can’t he remember anything?”

“Pan became too much of a nuisance, so I dispensed with him.  Apparently the magic wiped his mind clean.”  He grinned proudly, “You have all witnessed the birth of my new son, Peter Hook.  No one will ever mention the name Pan again, nor will anyone speak of Neverland or any of the creatures within it.  I want nothing to jog his memory.  He is my son now, and he will love me as I love him.” He glared at the men and gave them their warning, “Anyone who causes him to remember his true self will answer to me.  And I will consider it an even more serious offense than mutiny.”

That night, each man swore to keep Hook’s secret, and accept Peter as the Captain’s son.  Billy sat with the boy while the grown men put down the mutiny, and to his relief Peter didn’t awaken again until well after Hook returned, and even then it wasn’t for more that a few minutes.  He didn’t know how he would be able to lie to his friend, and dreaded knowing that he would have to sooner or later.  But if Peter can be happy as Hook’s son, it’s not betrayal is it?  I’d be protecting him, and honoring my loyalties to my Captain. 

---

The next day, Peter awoke aboard the Jolly Roger, the island disappearing quickly behind it.  He awoke to see his father sitting beside him, and smiled happily.  He was afraid of the questions, afraid of the emptiness in his mind.  But he felt the love the man had for him, felt it and knew it was real, and it steadied him. 

“Father,” he said softly. 

Hook smiled at the child.  I love to hear him say that.  I have a son!  He’s mine now, truly mine.  I finally got what I wanted.  “Peter, welcome back,” he replied.  He saw the boy’s eyes travel around the cabin, taking in the contents of the room.  “We’re back on the ship.”

“Ship?” Peter asked uncertainly.

“Our home, the Jolly Roger is a ship. I am its captain.  We were on an island, you were hurt.  We’ve left that place behind now.  You’re with friends and family now.”

“Hurt,” Peter repeated.  “What happened to me?”

Hook stared off into space.  He’d been thinking about what he would say to answer Peter’s questions, and he’d decided the best answer would be nothing.  If he made up a story, the men would have to remember it too, and they’d likely slip up along the line and spoil it.  Peter was an intelligent boy, and he would notice when the details of the lie started changing.  “Peter, we need to talk.  I know you are lost and confused.  You’ve been through a lot.  But the truth is that it’s best if you don’t remember.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hook took Peter’s hand and squeezed it gently.  “So many horrible things have happened to the both of us.  I don’t want you to suffer through it again.  I want you to be happy.  If you begin to remember things on your own, then I’ll be there for you.  But I won’t help you remember, and neither shall the rest of the crew.”

Peter still didn’t understand, but he nodded.  “I want to remember, but if you think I shouldn’t then I’ll try not to.”  He knows more about me than I do.  He loves me, so he must know best.  “Can I get up?”

Hook nodded and helped Peter to sit.  Peter looked down at himself and saw he was wearing only a pair of shorts.  He shivered a bit, “I’m cold.  Is it always cold?”

Hook looked out the window, noting the chill in the air for the first time.  “No, it’s usually quite warm.”  He saw that a fog was rolling in outside, which was odd because it was just after noon.  “Mr. Smee is mending your clothes, they got a little torn.  Wrap the blanket around yourself until he returns.”

Peter did so and stood up.  “Mr. Smee?” he asked softly. 

“My bosun.  He’s the oldest man on the ship, and he loves you dearly.  He helps me take care of you.”  Hook watched Peter tentatively walk around the room, looking at things as they caught his attention.

“This is my room?” Peter asked, looking at the strange instruments and the books on the shelf.  He saw the second, larger bed.  “Our room?”

“Yes.  We share a room.  You serve on this ship as my cabin-boy, so you sleep in here with me.”

“I’m Peter Hook, the cabin-boy on the Jolly Roger,” Peter said softly.  “You are my father, Captain James Hook, and your bosun is Mr. Smee.”  He repeated these things, hoping that by doing so he would jog a memory.  The words felt mostly right, but they recalled no images.  He continued to examine the room, hoping to find something familiar.  He saw something that caught his eye, a boy standing across the room from him.  He walked towards the boy, and the boy approached him too.  They both wore blankets, and when Peter reached out to touch him, he encountered a smooth surface instead of the other boy’s fingers. 

“Is that me?” he wondered aloud.  The boy was a stranger, but it was himself… it bothered him, looking at his reflection and not recognizing it.  He stared, trying to accustom himself to how he looked.  Brown hair, blue eyes… he noticed the earring and tugged on it tentatively.  He dropped the blanket to see himself better and immediately his eyes went to the crossbones scar on his breast.  He touched it lightly, feeling it with his fingertips and becoming familiar with it.  For some reason, this stirred uneasiness within him.  He thought of something he had just seen, and turned to look at the hat sitting on his father’s bed.  “This looks like that.  How did I get this?”

Hook had been watching Peter as he stared in the mirror, and he’d actually felt the sting of regret when he saw that the boy didn’t even remember his own face.  The spell removed every vestige of identity Peter had.  I guess I should be thankful it didn’t make him as new as a babe, or I’d be feeding him and teaching him to speak right now.  He decided he could lie about this one, instead of denying the boy information.  “An evil man gave you that.  I have many enemies, and they have tried to use you to hurt me.  But that man is gone forever, so he doesn’t matter anymore.”

Peter frowned.  That didn’t feel right, but he didn’t know any better, so he accepted it.  He continued to stare in the mirror, noticing the many other scars he bore.  He didn’t ask about all of them, they were too many.  “I suppose being on a ship is dangerous, and one gets hurt a lot.”

“Ay,” Hook said, walking to stand behind the boy.  He draped his arms over Peter’s shoulders possessively and the two stared at themselves in the mirror.  “A pirate ship is a very dangerous place.”

“We’re pirates?”  Peter asked wonderingly.  He felt strange, standing within the man’s embrace.  He wanted to flee, but at the same time he felt safe.  He looked at his reflection, then at his father’s, back and forth trying to find something he recognized.  He noticed for the first time his father’s hook.  “What happened to your hand, Father?”

Hook’s face darkened, and he tightened his arms around the boy.  “That is one thing we will not speak of.  Suffice it to say that I lost it in a fight with my mortal enemy, and that he is now dead.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said, feeling a touch of fear.  He had felt something shift inside, and realized that he was feeling his father’s anger.  It scared him.  “I’m sorry,” he added, his voice shaky. 

Hook noticed the boy’s fear, and he knelt down to look at him.  “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to make you angry.  I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to ask,” he replied, tears welling up.

“No, Peter,” Hook soothed, “you didn’t.  You felt my anger, didn’t you,” Peter nodded, “that is a rare ability we have, and it grows less as time passes.  Don’t speak of that connection to other men.  I wasn’t angry at you; I was merely remembering the fight that cost me my hand.  Ask me anything you want, and if it’s something I don’t want you to know, I’ll say so.  I understand that you are lost and confused right now, and I won’t hold it against you.  You need time to adjust, that’s all.”

“Father,” Peter said, and then stopped.  “Did I call you Father?  Or did I call you Daddy or Papa?”

Hook chuckled, “Call me whatever you wish in private.  On deck with the men, you must call me Captain.  When we’re alone or off duty, you may call me Father or Daddy.  Father implies respect, Daddy implies affection.  Call me whichever you feel the strongest.”

“I- I don’t feel affection for you,” Peter stammered, and quickly finished his thought, “I don’t know you yet.  I know I’m your son, but I don’t feel it.  I feel that you love me, and I want to feel it back, but I can’t feel any way about anything right now.”  He looked around the cabin.  “Everything is so strange.”

“I understand,” Hook replied, “Take your time and don’t rush it.  Everything will come together eventually.”

There was a knock on the door, and an old man with a beard and a dark-skinned boy walked in.  Both visitors were carrying items and looking at Peter curiously. 

“Ah, Peter, here are your clothes,” Hook said.  He pointed at the two and introduced them, “This is Smee, and this is the ship’s gunner, Billy Jukes.”

Peter stared at them intently, “Mr. Smee, bosun, and Billy Jukes, gunner.”

“Peter, do ya remember me?” Billy asked hopefully.  He felt disappointment when Peter shook his head, but he’d expected that answer.  “I – I mean, we were best friends before.  We talked to each other ‘bout everythin’.  I still wanna be your friend even if ya don’t remember me.  I bought ya some of your things.”  He handed Peter his dagger and his pipes.  He deliberately avoided Hook’s glare.  The man had left them on the island, not wanting Peter to have anything from Neverland.  But Billy knew that Peter had loved these two things more than anything else in the world, and he would never be able look his friend in the eye again if he let them be lost forever.  He’d risk a flogging or worse for Peter.

Peter looked at them in awe.  The dagger felt nice in his hand, like it belonged there.  But the pipes really drew his attention.  He put them to his lips, and he could almost hear melodies in his mind.  He blew a note, and laughed in delight at the sound.  He looked at the boy, about to thank him, when he noticed something odd.  Billy was staring at the floor, a look of dread on his face.  Peter could feel anger from his father, and knew it was directed at the one who had said they were friends.

Father doesn’t want me to have these.  Maybe he thinks they’ll make me remember.  But Billy gave them to me anyway.  I don’t want him to get into trouble.  He turned to the man and smiled.  “Father, will you teach me how to use these?  Billy Jukes said they’re mine, but they don’t seem familiar.  I want to learn again if I used to play music.  I think I would like that.”

Hook looked surprised, and Peter felt most of the man’s anger melt away.  “I’m not proficient with the pipes, but I will help you relearn how to play them.  You made the most beautiful music; it would be a shame for that ability to be lost.  You were also a superb fighter.  When you are fit, I will help you remember how to duel.”

Peter smiled and turned back to Billy.  “Thank you Billy Jukes.  And I would like to be your friend.”

Billy returned Peter’s smile tenfold, his relief palpable.  “Call me Billy.”

“Ah, lad,” Smee interrupted, “ya should be takin’ yer clothes now.  Yer shiverin’.  It be gettin’ colder out, so I added a coat fer ya, an’ some gloves.”

While Smee helped Peter get dressed and checked the fit of the coat, Hook took Jukes aside.  “You deliberately defied me, boy.  Explain yourself.”

Jukes looked at Peter, then back at Hook.  “I love ‘im, Cap’n, he’s like my brother.  Those things were important to ‘im, and if he ever gets his memories back he’ll miss ‘em.  I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let you leave ‘em behind, and I believed you’d regret doin’ it later.”

“Then you should have kept them hidden,” Hook hissed quietly.  “If he had remembered because you jogged him, I would have had to kill him… and I would have killed you, too.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Pan and I fought, and I betrayed Peter.  I sought to rid myself of the one, and I did not realize what it would do to the other.  This outcome was unintended, but I prefer it to how things were going.”  He glared at Jukes, but kept his hand off the boy, “If Pan comes back we will fight again.  He will never forgive what I did, and the old Peter cannot come back without him.  If you love him, you will do everything to keep him from remembering; his life depends on it.”

Billy realized the implications of what his captain was telling him.  “Ay, Cap’n.  I understand.  I promise I’ll help keep the truth from him.  And if I see him remember anything, sir, I’ll come straight to you with the news.”

Hook stared into Jukes’s eyes for awhile longer, until the boy began to fidget.  “Good boy,” he said at last, “Now go back to your duty.  I’ll let you off early today, I have to return to duty myself, and you can spend that time with Peter and rekindle your friendship.”

Billy nodded and left, relieved that he didn’t get the beating he had expected.

---

Peter sat up, panicked, and stared at the man in the other bed.  He’d had a bad dream, a dream in which he’d lost something terribly important.  Idiot, you’ve lost your memories.  I’d say that’s pretty important.  But he also had the feeling that it had been more than that, and that he had to find it soon or all would be lost forever. 

It’s cold, he thought as his breath made a fog in the air.  It was a lot colder than it had been when they went to sleep, and the blanket he’d been under was no longer enough.  He suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and his panic increased.  Wrapping the blanket tightly around himself, he went out on deck.

It was dark, after midnight, and the fog was thick around the ship.  The night-watch was on duty, and the men that saw him merely nodded and went back to their duties.  Peter only nodded back, he recognized none of them, and had no idea if he’d known any of them before or not.  If any of them were friendly to me, I suppose they’d at least smile.  He looked around, breathing in the cold air.  It felt better out here, but that sense of urgency was still nagging at him, and he still felt confined. 

I wish I could fly, he thought, then frowned.  Fly?  That’s silly, people don’t fly.  But the idea of being in the open air away from other people appealed to him.  He looked up and saw the crow’s nest, high atop the mainmast.  Peter smiled, realizing that that was where he wanted to go.  Dropping the blanket (it would only get in his way while he climbed), he began his ascent.

Once within the nest, he felt better.  The fog was thick, and he could barely make out the deck below.  He felt alone, like he was floating in a void.  He didn’t understand why he liked it up here in the damp and cold better than in his own warm bed, but since he couldn’t remember anything, he had to listen to what he was told and what he felt in his heart.  He shivered, his bare skin covered in goose-bumps, and sat down.  He was clad only in his under-shorts, and he regretted leaving the blanket below.  I don’t know what I should do now, but I don’t want to go back down there yet.  He sighed and closed his eyes, and in moments was fast asleep.

Hook awoke with a start, realizing that something was wrong.  He looked to Peter, and felt a jolt when he saw the bed was empty.  “Peter!” he yelled as he looked around the room.  When he assured himself the boy wasn’t there, he jerked on his clothes and strode out on deck.

“WHERE’S MY SON!” he roared at the night watch. 

“Cap’n?” one man, Mr. Seabury, spoke up.  “We saw the lad climb to the lookout a coupl’a hours ago.  We thought you’d sent him up.”

Hook grabbed the man and hoisted him up.  “You idiot!  What kind of man do you think I am?  Why would I send a sick child to the crow’s nest in this God-forsaken weather?”  With a snarl, he tossed the man to the side and began to climb up.  These men have taken to not questioning me at all, since I broke up the mutiny.  Hook had dealt harshly with the five men who had tried to stir up the mutiny, and now many of the men were scared to death of him.  They should be, after the manner in which he had executed Davis (the man had it coming for trying to kill Peter before), and the other four men had been thankful for their mercifully quick death sentences.  But he didn’t want the dogs to follow without reason or thought:  he wasn’t infallible and he didn’t want the crew to assume what his orders would be.

Soon he was in the nest, and for an instant he flashed back to the last time he had climbed up here to find Peter.  He again saw the boy, wrists gashed and blood everywhere.  He blinked and the image was gone.  Instead, he saw the nearly naked child curled up tight against the cold, crying out in a nightmare. 

“Codfish!” Peter moaned, “Hate you… let me go…”  Peter kicked and thrashed, then curled up again.

Hook stared in shock, a sinking sensation filling him.  He remembers.  NO!  He can’t remember, he’ll hate me and I’ll lose him.  He bent down and touched the boy, wincing at Peter’s ice cold skin.  That doesn’t matter right now; he’ll freeze to death if he stays out here.  He tried to pick Peter up, but the boy fought him.  Shaking his head, he got a grip on Peter and lifted him, ignoring the light hits and kicks he received.

Suddenly Peter began sobbing and his eyes opened.  They were Pan’s eyes, but they did not focus on anything.  “De’shanta… parat,” he groaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and then slid shut.  Peter fell silent and limp, and soon was breathing softly in dreamless sleep.

I yield… for now, Hook translated in his mind.  He tightened his hold on the boy, unsure of what to do.  I thought I rid him of that brat, but he still speaks through him.  I don’t know what he means, he gives up, but I will see Pan destroyed.  He slung Peter over his shoulder and climbed down the mast.  He stopped at the bottom to pick up the blanket, when suddenly everything changed.  There was a roaring noise, and the fog swirled in the high wind that had come from nowhere.  It lasted a few seconds, and the fog and the cold were gone.  Before it had been so cold that ice had formed on the deck; now it was pleasantly warm and clear. 

The men on deck gasped and shouted in fear and wonder.  Some of them pointed up to the sky.  Hook looked up, and for the first time in years he beheld the single moon he’d been born under, and the summer constellations he’d learned to navigate by.

“We’re back in the mortal realm,” he whispered.  He looked at Peter, and a suspicion began to form in his mind.  Pan kept us from land for over three months.  Could he also have been keeping us in the fey realm?  He gave up… is that what released us?  If that was true, then perhaps he didn’t have to worry about Pan coming back after all.  The whelp would never have let them back into the mortal realm unless he’d had no choice. 

Hook wanted to stay outside and gaze at the stars he’d missed for so long, but more men were coming up to see and Peter was still ice cold.  He knew he had to warm the boy or he could get sick.  So he carried Peter to their room without a backwards glance.

He put the boy in his bed, and took off everything but his own pants.  He climbed in beside Peter and pulled the blankets up.  “Peter, wake up son,” he said softly as he pulled the child against him and wrapped his arms around the small body.  He hissed as his skin came in contact with Peter’s, and he began to shiver as he felt his warmth leave his body to flow into the boy’s.  He wasn’t this cold a minute ago.  What happened?  Hook didn’t know and he didn’t even try to guess.  If it had anything to do with magic, then there was no telling.  But he did worry that Pan would awaken again.  With the boy this close to him, the fight could be ugly.  I beat him before, I can do it again.  He’s unarmed, and I have my hook. 

So he held Peter and waited to see.  After a while, he no longer felt a difference between his body temperature and the boy’s, meaning either Peter was warmer or he was colder.  His shivers subsided, and he began to feel comfortably warm and drowsy.  He began to drift off, when he felt the boy stir beside him.

Peter heard the familiar heartbeat and smiled.  He was warm and he recognized the feel of his father’s embrace.  “Daddy?” he said sleepily as he opened his eyes.

“Peter,” Hook breathed in relief.  He realized how worried he had been now that the fear was gone, and his insides began to unknot.  Pan would never call him Daddy, and neither would the old Peter.  “Peter, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “what did I do?”

“I found you outside in the cold.  I was afraid you would freeze to death.  Why did you go outside?”

Peter frowned and he rolled to look at his father’s face.  “I don’t remember.  I remember being cold… I don’t like being cold.  I like this, it’s warm.”

“You don’t remember?” Hook mused.  “Perhaps you walked in your sleep.  You sometimes have strange nightmares.  You had one tonight, do you remember it?”

Peter thought.  He only had faint impressions, and they were fading fast.  “I don’t remember what I dreamed.  I remember that I was afraid… I was trapped in something and I couldn’t get out… everything felt hopeless… like I’d lost everything that was important to me.”  He felt sadness well up, and he let the tears come.  “I have lost everything.  I’ve lost my entire life, and you said I shouldn’t remember it.  And now I feel like I’ll never get it back.”

Hook hugged Peter and kissed him on the forehead.  “You still have me.  And you have Billy, and Smee, they both love you too.  Many of the men on this ship are fond of you:  Mullins, Starkey, Cookson, Mason… they’ve known you the longest.  You have a family right here, and that is more than a lot of people have.  And you have your entire life ahead of you.  You’re young still… you’re only ten years old.  Most of the years you’ve forgotten are years that adults rarely remember anyway.”  He wiped Peter’s face and smiled at him fondly.  “Please don’t be sad.  You’ve been sad for too much of your life.  I love you, and no matter what, you have me.”

Peter smiled back through his tears.  “I love you, too, Daddy,” he replied.  He yawned widely, “I’m sleepy.”

Hook was overwhelmed with joy.  Peter had said it; he’d said the words he never thought he would hear.  I love you, too, Daddy.  Trying not to cry himself, he kissed Peter’s forehead again.  “Go back to sleep, then,” he muttered.  “Tomorrow we’ll get you caught up, and you’ll start getting new memories to make up for the ones that are gone.”

Peter didn’t answer, already drifting off to sleep again.  Hook lay awake for a long time after that, too excited to sleep.  He’s mine.  Peter Pan is gone, my revenge is complete, and I’ve been given a son to love in place of an enemy to hate.  “Sweet dreams, Peter,” he said softly.  “Tomorrow you start your new life.”