Terry Brooks - The Hook (1991)

Then she stepped back again. "Oh, Peter. I couldn't feel this way about you if you didn't love me, too. You do, don't you? It's too big a feeling to feel all by myself, you know. It's the biggest feeling I've ever had. And this is the first time I've been big enough to let it come out."

She bent forward to kiss him again. Peter held himself motionless, liking the feeling that the kiss produced even if he was unsure why, wanting to share her biggest feeling because it was, in some way, his own. But as her lips brushed his he caught sight of the flower she was wearing in her hair.

It reminded him of another.

It reminded him of…

"Maggie," he whispered and pulled back. "Jack. Moira."

There was a shifting within him of time and place, of memories and dreams, and the boy and man readjusted their positions, the boy giving back something of what he had taken, the man accepting what was offered without feeling the need to ask for more.

"Please!" Tink begged, trying to bring him close again. "Please, Peter," she whispered. "Don't spoil it."

But she was too late now. The spell was broken. It was there in Peter's eyes, in the look on his face, in the way the wrinkles tightened at the corners of his mouth.

"Tink," he whispered back, keeping his hands on her arms so that they would not lose contact. "You are, you have always been, a part of my life. That will never change. But my children, Jack and Maggie, are part of me. My family, Tink. I can't forget them."

He looked out through the branches toward the lights of the pirate harbor and the Jolly Roger. "My kids are on that ship. I have to save them."

He turned back to her. There were definitely tears in her eyes now, and no number of pixie dust excuses could disguise them. Slowly, she nodded. For a moment her gaze remained fixed on him. Neither moved, as if each had been frozen to a statue.

Then Tink broke away. "What are you looking at? Go on-save them, Peter."

Peter tried to speak, but her hand whipped up sharply and flung pixie dust in his face. He sneezed and backed away.

"Go on!" she cried. "Fly, Peter Pan! Fly!"

And away he soared, swift as thought, rising up against the coming dawn like a bird, the memory of Tink's kiss already fading from his mind. It was Jack and Maggie who occupied his thoughts now. The three days were up. Hook would be waiting.

He didn't look back. If he had, he would have seen that Tink, almost hidden in the dappled shadows of the Nevertree, was growing small again.

Bad Form!

Resplendent in his scarlet and gold brocade captain's coat, his claw polished and shining in the early-morning sunlight, James Hook stood on the quarterdeck of the Jolly Roger and thought what a lucky man he was.

A smile creased his angular features as he gazed out over the sea of pirate faces staring up at him from the main deck below. Faithful, loyal dogs, these. Smee stood at one hand, his bespectacled face beaming. Jack stood at the other, a miniature version of his new mentor, dressed like Hook from tricorne to boots. It was the third day of the captain's wait for the reappearance of Peter Pan-the new, improved version, he hoped, but any version would do. Hook gave his mustaches a friendly twist. The final day, the day on which his lovely, wonderful war would at last commence, the day on which Peter Pan would meet his well-deserved end.

He danced up on his toes like a ballerina. Ah, he could smell the powder of the fired cannons and hear the ripping of the shot.

But first things first.

"Smee, the box, if you please," he ordered.

His bosun promptly produced a flat wooden box, which he opened to Jack, revealing a velvet-lined interior containing row after row of golden earrings. Jack stared down at them wordlessly.

Hook bent close. "There's so many choices, Jack. Which one will you choose? Which one, Jack?"

Jack hesitated a moment, thinking. Then he reached down abruptly with one gloved hand and snagged a 'hook' earring just like the one worn by the captain.

"Ah, good form, Jack!" Hook declared, beaming. "Excellent choice. You know, it's a very special time when a pirate receives his first earring." He glanced down at the crew. "Right, lads?"

"Aye, Cap'n," they cried as one, and many a rough face creased in contentment. What cattle.

Hook turned back to Jack. "Now, Jack, I'm going to ask you to mooove your head to the side-just a little bit-"

He turned Jack's head to expose the boy's ear. "There," he advised with a smile. He brought the point of his hook up to the exposed lobe. "Now brace yourself, Jack, because this is really going to hurt."

He laughed. Jack squinched his eyes shut.

A crowing sound brought Hook up short. All eyes lifted to the mainsail where a shadow had been cast by the sun's brilliant light against the canvas.

It was the shadow of Peter Pan.

A sword sliced neatly through the sail, and the outline of Pan fell away to the deck. The toughened pirate crew flinched.

Smee's eyes went wide as he crouched behind Hook. "Cap'n! It's a ghost!" he gasped.

But Hook gave a smile that was all iron and grit. "I think not, Smee. I think the doodle-doo has returned."

"Who is it, Captain?" asked Jack, frowning.

A figure leaped from behind the canvas and slid down the sunbeam as if skating on ice to land squarely on the image he had cast.

And there was Peter Pan, a sword in his hand, a smile on his lips, youth and joy mirrored in his face. Forest green from head to foot with boots, leggings and tunic belted and scalloped like the leaves of the Nevertree itself, he looked the very incarnation of the Pan of old. Pirates backed away from him hurriedly, tripping over one another's peg legs and cutlasses in their efforts to get clear. Hook's smile broadened in blissful contentment. Smee cowered further in Hook's shadow. Jack stared.

Peter gathered himself, flipped high into the air, and came down directly in front of the quarterdeck stairs leading up to Hook.

For an instant everyone held a collective breath.

Then the captain stepped forward. "Peter Pan," he greeted, and his voice became a snake's hiss of expectation. 'Tis true, time does fly. And so do you, I see. Good form. Tell me-how ever did you manage to fit into those smashing tights?"

His pirates gave a laugh and a rousing cheer at their captain's wit. As Peter placed one foot upon the stairs that led to his adversary, Hook stamped on the deck above and the stairs flipped over, hiding away the red carpet. Hook's smile broadened.

Peter flushed, but continued his climb until he stood on the quarterdeck, facing the captain. "Hand over my children, James Hook, and you and your men may go free."

Hook's laugh was a bark of derision. "Really? How kind of you!" He feigned a thoughtful look. "Tell you what. Why not ask the little dears what they want? Start with this one, why don't you? Jack? Someone to see you, son."

An unctuous mix of deference and consideration showed in his sharp face as he ushered Jack forward to stand in front of him. He did not miss the fact that some of the cockiness left Pan's eyes as he saw what had been done to his son. He took note of the shock that replaced it.

"Jack-are you all right?" Peter asked quickly. "Did he hurt you? Where's Maggie? I promised I would be here for you, and I am. You'll never lose me again. Jack, I love you.''

Jack did not respond. There was no recognition in his eyes. He might as well have been Hook's son for all that he seemed to remember being anyone else. He eyed Peter for an instant longer, then stepped back defiantly.

" 'Promise,' did you say?" Hook sneered. "Hah! A cheap word for you, Peter. And did I hear you use the '1 word'? By Barbecue's bones, that's real cheek!"