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By Hook or By Crook	By : OktoberBlack Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 14973 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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The characters created by J. M. Barrie are not mine; I don’t own them and I’m not making any money off of them. The characters that were not created by J. M. Barrie in this fic *are* mine, and I do own them—but I’m still not making any money off of them. Figures.

By Hook or By Crook (for want of a better name)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: (Not Exactly) Kidnapped! (By Kids!)

I stared at him, aghast.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed out the window. He put a finger to his lips and began quickly and quietly removing the rest of the window slats. Tinkerbell flew into my room, her glow lighting the darkened space.
“We’re here to kidnap you,” Pan said, sliding into the window after here.
“You’re not supposed to tell me that,” I admonished him. “Kidnappers don’t tell their victims that they’re kidnapping them. They just do it.”
“Well, I’ve never done this before!” he protested. “Besides, you’re too big to just steal.” He looked at me askance. “Don’t you want to leave? Or did you want to marry ol’ Captain Stinky?”
“Uh, no, I definitely want to leave,” I said. I folded my arms across my naked breasts. “I don’t have any clothes though, so that could be a bit embarrassing.”
“Oh. I noticed that you looked a bit weird,” he said with a look at Tinkerbell. “Tink?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the fairy said, flitting around my face. “I can do something for her but just for now, and then you’ll have to make or steal something for her.”
“Come on then,” Pan said, leaping back out through the window and hanging outside of it in mid-air.
“Er, how?” I asked. Then I remembered. Fairy dust and happy thoughts equalled flight in this world. Tinkerbell shook her booty at me and in short order, not only was I wearing a dress that looked remarkably like hers, but I was glowing a bit with fairy dust. Okay, happy thoughts. I closed my eyes and thought back to my wedding to Jason. We’d had a small wedding, with just a few very close friends and family members, and a lovely dinner at our favourite restaurant. I thought of his face, of the happiness that seemed to emanate from both of us as we toasted each other and kissed again and again.
“There you go!” he said with a laugh. “Come on!” I looked down and saw I was floating about a metre off the floor.
“All right then!” I said, and holding the image in my head of Jason’s laughing face bending down to kiss me, I flew right out my window.

As kidnappings went, this certainly was one of the most unorthodox. Pan didn’t hold me hostage, he didn’t even draw his sword. He just flew ahead of me towards his forest cave, Tinkerbell hovering near his ear, and I followed. I supposed I could have gone somewhere else, but I knew I didn’t have anywhere else to go. After all, Hook had a lot of friends and acquaintances in Neverland—if I suddenly showed up without Hook, I was certain they would take me straight back to him. So we flew through the night sky to the forest. We landed in a clearing and were suddenly surrounded by boys brandishing swords.
“She’s our hostage, boys!” Pan cried and the boys all began to yell and cheer for their leader. “Hook will want her back, of course, and we’ll have a grand fight!”
“Could she be our Wendy?” one of the boys asked. He was smaller than the rest and I was amazed he remembered Wendy at all.
“There’s only one Wendy,” Pan said sternly. “But maybe she can tell us stories. Do you know any stories?”
“Uh, sure. I know a few stories,” I said hesitantly. “Hey, do you think I could get some real clothing first?” My fairy dress was glowing a little fainter and I was sure it was about to disappear.
“Oh, yeah,” Pan said. “Chester? Get that chest of clothing we took from Hook last month.”
“Yes, Peter,” Chester, a 8-year-old skinny black boy said with a salute. He took off at a run.
“So, stories…” Pan said, rubbing his hands.
“How about in the morning?” I asked. “I’m kind of tired.”
“Right, of course,” he agreed. “I forgot you bigguns need more sleep than we do.”
“Bigguns, yes,” I murmured. Could my life get any more surreal? Then Chester returned, dragging a large wooden sea chest and I sighed. He opened it and presented it to me. “Wow. You took these from Hook?”
“Yep. It was a great adventure!” Pan grinned widely and then began to crow like a rooster. Right. I ignored him and his lost boys, and began instead to paw through the treasure chest of clothing they’d brought me. Leather pants and linen shirts, silk dresses and fur cuffs. It was amazing. I found a pair of black leather pants that fit pretty well, if a bit snugly. The tops were more challenging. I needed something that could act as a bra, but I didn’t want to wear a corset. Eventually, I dug up a size small tank top, which held me in place fairly well, and a loose fitted button-down silk blouse to wear on top of it. No boots or shoes that fit, but I could live with that.

When I was dressed, Peter Pan and his Lost Boys led me back to their home under the biggest trees in the forest. I was given the smallest bunk in the darkest corner—I was their prisoner, after all—but I also got a soft pillow and a fairly nice blanket. I settled down to sleep, listening to the boys plan how they would finally kill Hook when he came to get me back. Don’t be so sure, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke again, I was surrounded by boys. One of them had a stick and was just about to poke me with it.
“You sleep hard,” he said, pulling back.
“Um, thanks?” I said, yawning. “What time is it?”
“Morning,” one of the boys said.
“That narrows it down,” I mumbled. I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“We were waiting for you to wake up so you can tell us stories, like you promised,” one of the other boys said. There were about twenty of them all together, all dressed in bits of clothing and fairly dirty.
“Ah, right. Stories,” I said. I considered briefly. “Can I have a glass of water first, please?”
“Water! She wants water!” They called down the line of boys and a tin cup of water was passed back up to me. I sipped slowly, unsure of where to start.
“Are you a Mother?” one of the boys asked. He stuck his thumb in his mouth for a moment before realizing what he was doing. I could almost hear the capital letter at the beginning of mother.
“No, no I’m not,” I admitted.
“But you can tell stories,” he demanded of me. “You can, can’t you?”
“Sure I can,” I said, sweating a bit. Stories, stories… I dredged through my memories of the stories I used to read to my friend’s kids. “Okay, here’s a silly story about a frog and a toad…”

I think I spent about four hours telling them stories. I started with frog and toad, moved on to some of the stories my mother had told me growing up, and then continued on to Greek mythology. I even think I told them the plot of the trashy romance novel I’d been reading before I was taken by Hook. They liked that one the best, although they also liked the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Especially the part where he gets ripped to shreds by the maenads. Violence is always closest to the hearts of little boys. Finally I called a time out while I headed into the forest, looking for a place to pee. As I crouched in the bushes, pants around my ankles, I heard the strangest thing—the forest sounds suddenly stopped completely. I held my breath, suddenly shocked into stillness, certain this boded no good. And I was right. To my right and left pirates were creeping through the bushes. I crouched further down, trying to be as hidden as possible, frozen. The forest held its breath along with me for what seemed like forever, and then exploded in noise as the pirates attacked. I frantically pulled up my pants but stayed hidden in my bush. I didn’t know how to use a sword and even if I did, I didn’t have one. Maybe if I stayed hidden, Pan would fight with Hook and they’d kill each other or something. Maybe I could escape. I thought about our flight through the forest and wondered if I could still fly. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. But any chance of flying was interrupted by the yelling that slipped through the leaves of the forest.

“Hook!” Peter Pan shouted gleefully.
“Pan!” Hook roared. “Where is she?” I could hear the clank of their swords as they fought. The sound seemed so close… I had to get away. I listened carefully to where the sounds were located and then began running through the forest away from the fighting. There wasn’t a trail, and I kept slipping on mud and rotten leaves, roots tripping my bare feet. I came suddenly to a halt as the forest fell away into a sharp cliff, with a drop of at least a hundred feet.
“Shit!” I grabbed at a tree behind me, trying not to fall. “Can’t go that way…” I hadn’t noticed this green canyon when we’d been flying last night. Had we come this way? I ran along the edge of the cliff, hoping to find some way down into the valley below. I could still hear the clash of swords through the trees. How come I couldn’t seem to leave them behind? Crap. I stopped to try and figure out where I was going, looking behind me to judge how far I’d come. When I turned around, there was a pirate in front of me. He was a huge man, perhaps Samoan or Fijian, his face, neck and arms tattooed with intricate patterns. He grinned at me, one gold tooth gleaming in the dim light.
“Where d’yah think yer goin’?” he asked, one meaty hand clamping down on my wrist.
“Away from you!” I snarled, pulling on my arm, trying to get away from him, but he just laughed at me.
“Not so much, no,” he replied, and with a quick flick of his hand he threw me over his shoulder into a fireman’s hold. I tried kicking at him, but he just slapped a hand over my legs, chuckling. “The Cap’n will be right pleased to get yah back.” He carried me back through the forest like that, my head dangling down his back, my legs grasped tightly against his chest. I banged on his back with my fists. I tried biting his back, but couldn’t get a purchase with my teeth. He ignored everything I did to him, much as a bear ignores a fly. In short order, we were back in the clearing. Hook and his pirates had routed the Lost Boys and were declaring victory when he spied me.
“There you are! By Lucifer, I knew we’d find you!” he shouted and his pirates roared their approval in response. The pirate holding me threw me down to the ground and I sat there, stunned by the impact. Hook hauled me to my feet and planted a kiss on my lips. “My wife-to-be! Did those awful boys hurt you? Well, no matter. Smee! My litter!” And once again, as simple as that, I was the captive of Captain James Hook.
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By Hook or By Crook