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Menagerie	By : Panymede Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Slash Views: 4178 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Menagerie
- 1
Menagerie:

menagerie - n.

1) a) a collection of live wild animals on exhibition.

b) an enclosure in which wild animals are kept.

2) A diverse or miscellaneous group.

Hook’s boys, his beautiful, perfect, wonderful boys, were gone. All that remained was the crowning jewel of the precious treasures he had collected… his first, his glorious Pan. Lying in his bed, clutching his remaining boy to his chest, he remembered acquiring each one.

He’d stolen them all, as a proper pirate does any booty. One by one he found them, each one exquisite in his innocence, and one by one he took them in his hand and led them away from the world of things adult and ordinary. Some came willingly, laughing and dancing in delight at the promises of adventure. Others fought him and called for their mothers to save them, but no amount of mothers’ tears could ever make the Captain release what he’d claimed as his own.

Tootles, the Governor’s son, had been one that cried. How he’d clutched at his dead nursemaid’s skirts, begging her to get up. Hook had been gentle, lifting the boy away and drying his tears. He’d even covered the child’s eyes as they’d passed his dying mother, but he’d not been able to muffle the woman’s soft pleas for her child. A bullet to her head was the only mercy he could give her, and the boy had wept the entire voyage back to the isle. So much warmth in a heart so small, the boy’s capacity for love and loyalty never ceased to amaze the Captain. Far more tragic to allow that heart to harden with age if Tootles grew up, to lose that love as he became yet another callous man. The child’s mother would have thanked him for killing her, if she’d understood why.

Twins, abandoned in the forest, they had been ones that laughed. At least, they laughed as much as they could for children half dead from exposure. They were so small that Hook had no difficulty in carrying them both in his arms. On the ship they’d regained their strength, and laughed the entire time they were aboard. Such naïve innocence, such forgiving natures… they’d understood completely why their father had left them to die: eight older brothers and sisters made food scarce. They only regretted that the Captain had not found their sister too. The man didn’t tell them he’d seen the hapless girl. He did not collect girls, couldn’t stand the flighty things that were half-grownup before they were even two years old. Twins would have understood, would have forgiven just as they had their father, but Hook enjoyed their laughter too much to sully it with tears.

Nibs, brave Nibs, who always knew what he wanted and was never afraid to ask for it. He’d come willingly, approaching Hook on his own and demanding to sign on. The man had almost let that gem slip away, judging the boy too brazen and not realizing at first he was a true diamond in the rough. Nibs did not lack for courage, but it had been trust that had driven him to ask, a child’s trust that adults would take care of him, would love him and make the monsters go away. The Captain had indeed made the boy’s monsters go away, leaving the boy’s parents lying dead in an alley with their throats cut. Nibs wasn’t as innocent as he should have been, but the monsters had not yet sullied his trust. Hook had saved that trust, shored it up by taking the boy’s hand and leading him away. Nibs and the Captain had played many games of chess on the ship, and smiled as each won his share of matches.

Curly came screaming, and Hook never discovered what horrors the child had seen to make him scream so. The Captain had found the boy kneeling on the sand, his eyes squeezed shut and his palms pressed tightly against his ears, screaming. Only Smee had been able to calm the boy, and even then the boy would scarcely eat or speak. Hook had had sincere doubts that Curly would survive, but once he’d joined the collection he eventually forgot his nightmares and reclaimed his joy.

Slightly had fought him, biting and kicking. It was amazing how one so fragile seeming could be so strong, but the boy was lovely and Hook couldn’t allow him to escape. His features were like fine porcelain, and to let him grow up and mar that delicate face with whiskers and wrinkles would have been pure sin. The boy’s sister had looked exactly like him, and Hook for once had been tempted to take a girl. But no, the weeping mother held the daughter close, pleading for her son’s return, and the Captain had not the heart to take both her children away from her. Not when her husband’s corpse lay cooling at his feet, unable to ever give her another baby. As long as she did not fight him, he would not kill her too. But Slightly fought, fought as his father had fought, and he was the first boy since Pan that Hook had struck. He’d brought the boy to his ship in chains, and the child had been sullen until he’d joined his new family. His hatred of Hook was second only to Pan’s, and it was only fitting that he became the youth’s second in command.

Peter Pan… just whispering the boy’s name gave Hook pleasure. He had been the first in the Captain’s collection and he remained the most highly prized. Peter was the quintessence of boyhood, the truest riddle of what it meant to be a child. The boy’s intense hatred of Hook burned just as fiercely as his love for that same man, and only someone as heartless and pure as Pan could feel both and not be driven mad. It was one of the many reasons he’d wanted the boy.

He’d first seen the boy in a park, dancing in the moonlight. Homeless and friendless, Peter had still been carefree and happy, filled with joyful games he played with other children just as easily as he played alone. Hook had watched in fascination as the boy danced, humming a lullaby as the soft moonlight had danced across his golden skin. For the first time, the Captain had felt desire for something other than gold or jewels, and he’d vowed in that moment he would possess the boy. Strong, lithe limbs twisted and twirled gracefully, golden curls swirled in the light breeze. He’d realized then that this was the reason he’d felt the need to leave the island and return to the dreadful world foolish mortals called “real”. He would take the beautiful boy and claim him as his own, and return with him to Neverland. The child would never grow up, never lose his innocent beauty, and Hook would love him always.

But when the boy had seen the Captain he’d stopped dancing, staring for a moment in surprise touched with fear. Then he’d turned and fled, dashing into the trees. Hook had pursued him without a thought, knowing only that his prey was escaping and vowing that it would not be so. The child had youth and speed on his side, but Hook wasn’t so old or slow himself, and with his longer stride he quickly caught up to the boy. How they’d fought in the brush, the man tackling the boy to the ground, the child struggling and fighting, trying to escape. But once ensnared, Peter’s small body lacked the strength to break free. He never stopped struggling, and it wasn’t until Hook struck him unconscious that the man was able to carry him away to his ship. He’d deeply regretted bruising that lovely face, and he’d shed a tear for every drop of blood that fell from the boy’s split lip. But Peter didn’t appreciate those tears when he awoke, nor did he care for the kisses the man bestowed upon his lips in an effort to make the hurt go away.

Every day of the voyage had been a battle of wits and wills. Hook would do anything to make the boy truly his, but nothing worked. He tried to make the boy happy by giving him gifts of clothes and jewels, by having the cook made foods he thought the child would like. But Peter ripped the clothes he was given and tossed the jewels overboard, and would only eat when forced. Hook tried to win the boy’s heart by loving him, by showering him with caresses and kisses. But Peter cringed from his touch and would not return the man’s affections, scorning him with words of hate and disgust. He tried music but Peter would neither sing nor dance. He tried games but the boy refused to play. In the end he forced the boy, his frustration and anger overwhelming his better judgment and he’d nearly destroyed the child completely. After his lust had been satisfied, Hook realized what he’d done and repented, but Peter could not forgive him. The boy couldn’t do anything except bleed and cry, and for several days after his tears and blood had dried he did nothing at all. He would not eat, nor would he speak or move, or give any indication at all that he still lived beside breathe.

Hook’s regret had known no bounds, and it had taken both him and Smee to bring the boy back from whatever corner of his mind he’d fled to. It had been the stories that did it, the stories that both men told while they cared for the child. One after another, never ceasing, they regaled the boy with tales of adventure, tragedy and intrigue. But the story that had first made the boy’s fingers twitch, had first made a ghost of a smile cross his face, had been a tale of Neverland. He started to eat once more, and eventually to speak, and with the promise of a story Hook could get the boy to cooperate – and eventually to let himself be touched. The boy hated him, of that there was no doubt, and it pained Hook to know that when the boy screamed and cried from his nightmares, the Captain was the monster that haunted him. But over time the mistrust was muted, as was the anger and resentment, and the boy let him approach more and more often.

It was never enough for Hook, though, and once more his impatience nearly destroyed what he loved the best. If only he’d taken his time and continued to woo the boy, perhaps Peter would have forgiven him. No, instead the man had pushed, forcing the boy one night to endure his attentions when Peter was clear that they were unwanted. By the time they reached Neverland, Hook knew he couldn’t keep the boy. Nightmares plagued Peter, he could barely eat, and he withdrew into himself whenever Hook entered the room. He grew progressively worse, becoming listless and wan until at last Hook admitted the boy would die if something weren’t done. So he did the only thing he could: he took Peter to the fairies, and charged them with caring for his boy. Living with them in freedom, the boy quickly recovered and thrived. It was a bitter lesson that Hook learned, but he learned it well and never forgot. What remained of Peter’s innocence would not last if he remained with the Captain. The boy was a child, Hook was an adult, and no adult could possess childhood without destroying it no matter how honorable his intentions. So he kept his treasure on the island and watched it from afar. The first time he’d seen Peter fly, he’d nearly cried with joy. And he truly had wept when he heard the child’s laughter for the first time.

Peter hated him. How could he not? But for all the boy’s hate and mistrust, he still harbored a curious fascination for the man that had brought him to Neverland. Over time, as the memory of Hook’s misuse faded, he made short trips to the ship to observe his enemy. Publicly, Peter maintained his hostility, often taunting the man and seeking to kill him or to be killed in turn (it frightened Hook how little the boy seemed to value his own life), but privately, rarely, Hook would awaken in the night to find Peter sitting at the foot of his bed, watching him with tear-filled eyes. It was in these rare nights that Peter would let Hook touch him, desperate for human companionship and affection. Hook honored the boy’s tentative trust and never again sought to abuse it, but he was sorely tempted. It was with great trepidation that the man decided to help Peter by collecting boys for him.

One by one, Hook found boys he thought would suit. They were to be Peter’s companions, so they had to be worthy, and it was very rare that the Captain found lads that were acceptable. But when he found them, he took them regardless of circumstance and without remorse. Peter would have his friends, no matter who Hook had to kill to get them. He had been afraid that when Peter had boys his own age to turn to for companionship he’d stop visiting, but if anything his efforts seemed to redeem him a little in the youth’s eyes. Peter knew Hook was the one bringing the boys. It was too much of a coincidence that each time he found a new boy wandering in the woods with no memory, it was the very day that Hook’s ship returned from its voyage. Peter came more often in the nights and Hook would tell him stories, and during the day the man admired his collection of boys from afar. They were his, they were beautiful, and they made his Pan smile.

The first time Peter had left the island to visit the land of his birth, Hook’s heart had frozen with fear… a most peculiar sensation that the island surprisingly reflected. He had not considered that the boy would discover the trick to leaving, and the Captain had wept with fear that his treasure was lost to him forever. The outside world was harsh and cruel, and even if Peter returned, would his exposure to that world have ruined him? Without the glowing jewel of Pan in their midst, the rest of his collection had seemed dull and lifeless, and Hook despaired at losing the light of his life. But Pan returned, still crowing with joy and brimming with tales for his boys, and Hook’s delight had known no bounds. Peter always returned, and Hook reassured himself it would always be so, yet each time the boy left again the Captain felt the same icy fear freeze him and his Neverland. To put bars around Neverland would only make the boy see his cage, and Pan could never be allowed to feel caged. No, if Hook wanted his precious to thrive, he had to risk losing him.

And now they were gone, having left Neverland forever with the Wendy girl. Hook hadn’t minded suffering “defeat” at the hands of his boys, they’d often defeated him in their silly games, and only once had he suffered any permanent damage from it (that dreadful day when he’d gotten careless and Peter took his hand). Neverland was Hook’s domain, and every living thing within it was his… including the crocodile. He’d lost to Pan so that the boy could impress the pretty girl and perhaps get her to stay. She made Peter happy, therefore despite his disdain for women, the Captain would have let her stay and join his collection. But no, she’d left, taking nearly all of his treasures with her. Hook was extremely disappointed when he’d learned that, and he contemplated for a long time the merits of finding them and bringing them back. They belonged to him, and that wench had no right to take them with her.

But the next night Peter had come to him, feeling betrayed and lonely and seeking comfort from the man he knew, deep down, owned him. The boy had spent the entire night with the Captain, letting himself be touched and petted, kissed and embraced. And in the morning Hook awoke to find the boy still in his arms, to his eternal delight. He still had his true treasure, the one he’d loved best, and if the other boys had chosen to leave then they were no longer fit to be Pan’s friends.

“I miss them,” Peter whispered sleepily, nuzzling against the Captain’s chest, needing the reassurance of contact.

“I’ll find more for you, and they’ll be better than the ones before,” Hook swore, caressing the boy’s face gently. “And even if they leave one day too, you’ll never be alone. You are mine, and I’ll never leave you.” He smiled when Peter sighed against him, relaxing back into sleep. Oh yes, there was a whole world of boys out there, some with mothers and some without. And one by one he’d find those worthy of being his and claim them for his precious Peter Pan.

fin

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Menagerie