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Why swallows build in the eaves of houses	By : redhandedjill Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 8014 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Author's notes:

Many thanks to those who took time to review my story! Now I know it's not all for nothing! Specials thanks go to Slytherin_Tiger, Jane and The Lovely Archeologist

- R.H.J.

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Ah, envy not Hook.

It was all a dream. I'm home. It was all a dream.

Wendy coughed raggedly, her entire body racking as she slowly woke from her temporary coma. Slowly her dark lashes parted, and her eyes opened, taking in a large room she hadn't encountered before. It was a dimly lit room, and taking a large glance at the small circular window, Wendy viewed it was sunset.

This gave the room an almost reddish glow, but it seemed a harsh red, an angry red. The entire room had a scent of masculinity, of something musky and formidable. There was a large bookcase at one end of the cabin, filled with several interesting looking volumes. There were several candles about in ornate holders, a basin filled with water at one side of the cabin, a dresser drawer that seemed rather old and dusty with a cracked mirror atop of it.

There was a small square box on top of the dresser, and while Wendy was intrigued to know what it held, her attention was suddenly drawn to where she now lay. It was incredibly soft, and extremely decadent. Why, her own bed at home would never compare! She viewed the embroidered pillows, the soft ruby red of the blankets she was atop of.

Slowly the fog was being lifted from the girl's mind, and she suddenly felt an icy grip of panic around her heart, squeezing tightly until she found she was quite breathless. What of the fire? Poor Wendy thought wildly, surely it had burnt most of the ship? Surely they still weren't aboard the Jolly Roger?

"Then where am I?" she inquired to no one in an awed whisper.

"Miss Wendy?"

Wendy let out a large gasp at the familiar face that came into view by the door of the cabin. Smee. He'd been so still and blended into the cabins dim lighting so well, she hadn't even recognized him in her initial viewing of the room.

"Hello there little one." Smee said almost kindly, coming to stand at the end of the large bed that Wendy was now sitting up in. His voice was soft, and almost nervous. "Are you peckish?"

Wendy nearly gaped at the civility of the question, and whom it was coming from. She was still in a daze, and could only think to ask the one question that had plagued her since she had awoken.

"Where am I?"

"Why, aboard the Jolly Roger." Smee said with a chuckle, his light eyes twinkling merrily, causing him to look more and more like the fabled Santa Claus Wendy knew of. "Where else?"

Wendy fell silent, her eyes wide and disbelieving. They fell to her hands, clasped in her lap. She sniffled back the tears now, knowing that obviously Hook had won. Peter was surely dead, along with the Lost Boys. She was never to be free. He would surely murder her now with Peter out of the equation.

How would he kill her? She wondered darkly, her stomach churning. Revolver? Walking the plank? Poison? Suddenly her face paled as she came to the feared conclusion...

His claw?

She heard faint clattering, and before she could look up to see where the commotion had risen, a plate of what looked like three day old stew and a stale piece of bread were placed in front of her on a silver platter. Wendy looked to the expectant Smee.

"Thank you." She responded respectfully, though she was obviously broken in spirit and hope.

"You're very welcome, Miss." Smee said slowly, as if trying in vain to remember correct manners.

Wendy could feel his eyes on her, surely waiting for her to take a bite of what he offered her. Surely it was poison, Wendy decided. And so knowing that death was to be imminent, and not as painful as she had imagined, Wendy Darling raised the bread to her lips, and thought of home.

Home.

Before she could take a bite of the food item, the door to the cabin was flung open, and in strode Hook looking his part. His smirk was sinister, as was the look he directed to a stricken Wendy.

"Miss Darling." He purred, glancing at her small form on his large bed. She was paler than moments before, causing the smudges of charcoal to stand out on her cheeks and nose.

Smee suddenly darted to Wendy, taking the tray of food from her and placing it atop the dresser. Hook watched Wendy through all of this, viewing the disappointment in her eyes as the food was taken from her, her eyes fixated upon a kindly Smee.

Suddenly Hook was overtaken with jealousy at the attention the round bellied Smee was receiving whilst he, Captain James Hook, was being thoroughly ignored. It simply did not happen.

"Smee," Hook said with authority at his silent shipmate. "I wish to speak with Miss Darling in private."

"Of course Captain." Smee said with a curt nod at Wendy and Hook before he went rushing out into the darkening evening, closing the cabin door quietly behind him.

Then it was just she and Hook. The two of them at opposing sides of the cabin, looking to one another warily. Wendy didn't dare speak, for fear of rousing his legendary temper.

Hook removed his hat, placing it on the chair beside the drawer that Wendy hadn't noticed before, following soon after was his decorative overcoat. She watched his methodic movements in sheer frightened silence.

Soon he stood before her in nothing but his white shirt, vest, trousers and boots. Still he was broad shouldered and intimidating, and she shuddered as he drew nearer. He stopped at the basin, dropping a cloth into it and bringing it to the side of the bed.

He placed it beside Wendy, looking to the girl under hooded eyes. Her eyes were on the claw he kept at his side, almost as if ashamed of its mere presence. Then her eyes drew curiously to the basin of lukewarm water in mild interest.

Hook slowly sat himself at the edge of the bed, looking to her carefully. He allowed this moment of careful inspection as she looked everywhere but his face. He knew she feared him. For now.

Her knee was inches from his own, and her back seemed rigidly straight. Such ladylike manners, he had almost forgotten how they brought up young girls in London these days. He almost sighed then, at what lady like Wendy Darling had done in the cellar below.

"You foolish girl." Hook said almost gently as his left hand grasped the washcloth in the basin. Best as he could, he drained some of the water out of it before raising it to Wendy's face.

She darted back slightly, looking to his eyes now as timid as a deer caught in its familiar forest. She raised one hand slightly, wincing as if expecting to be slapped roughly with the washcloth in Hook's hand.

"Where is Peter?"

Hook's teeth ground together at her words, but he did not show his irritation upon his face.

"Gone."

"Dead?" Wendy said almost fearfully.

"No." Hook replied easily, his countenance relaxed. "If he had perished, I would have told you as such. No, Pan is simply gone from this ship, never to return."

Wendy was unsure of how to react to this news. Yes, she was overjoyed at Peter's escape...but never to return? How could that ever work? She looked to the Captain's face in curious confusion, her eyes scanning his face freely. "But, you don't seem upset."

"That is because I am not upset, my beauty." Hook said almost grinning as he spoke. "For I have my prize."

Wendy's face colored at this sentiment, and she grew suddenly uncomfortable under Hook's familiar and predatory gaze. Again his hand and washcloth were raised inclining towards her face, and again she drew back from his almost touch.

"Do not move again." He said sternly, the side of his claw coming to rest atop her hand. It was a cold jolt to her senses, and she muffled a cry of surprise and sudden fright. "I would hate to have to harm you further."

Wendy didn't believe what he said at all, but she stilled, her breathing almost stopping as Hook's hand went to her face once more. She watched as the damp washcloth brushed against her cheek. It was such a gentle touch, Wendy could barely believe it was the Captain's hand. She was confused at his motions until she saw the dark smudges upon the cloth and she found the strength to speak.

"Why aren't you upset with me?" Wendy inquired softly, looking to his clear eyes focused upon the bridge of her nose as he brushed the cloth against it. "I thought for certain you would be furious about the fire."

"It was half my doing." Hook replied almost embarrassedly. "I left you to your own devices alone down there with a flame. I suppose I just assumed you weren't foolish enough to attempt death. But I should have known by now that you are not like most women, Wendy."

When he said her name, she suppressed a shiver. It was the heavy tone in which he said it, accompanied by the slow downward movement of the cloth against her neck. And it was how he had called her a woman, not in the accusatory fashion her parents seemed to favor, but more as if it were a title that she had earned in entering womanhood.

The cloth hadn't stopped at her neck, Wendy noted, her eyes still locked with the unfathomable man before her. His dark hair behind him, his light eyes so uncharacteristically suited to his dark features they seemed to hypnotize. Now the washcloth was now dragging itself down her neck, landing in the hollow at middle of her collar, and causing her heart to hiccup.

Hook noted the chest that had begun to heave slightly under his ministrations, and his lips had parted the moment the movement had started. But still his eyes were upon her own, wanting her to fully succumb to him. Her skin was clean now, and glistening in the candlelight from the water. The washcloth circled her collarbone now, preparing to go downward should she let him.

"Did the fire do much damage?" Wendy inquired loudly, wishing that the sound would stop the movement upon her collar immediately. Her wishes were granted, for his hand fell slowly.

"Not much at all my dear. The only damage you managed to inflict was upon yourself." Hook lied casually, placing the cloth back into the basin. "Now, don't look so disappointed. It was a valiant effort worthy of any pirate."

"I do not wish to be a pirate." Wendy said gently, "I am no longer a child."

"Of that fact," Hook murmured gently, "I am well aware."

Before she knew what was happening, Wendy felt the strong hand of Hook around her neck, bring her face to meet his own. She could not pull back, for the claw rested now on the small of her back. His breath was hot against her cheek, and his eyes were piercing.

All the stories in the world she had told of this legendary man, down to the last detail. She had been through adventures great and small, but nothing prepared her for the feeling that went through her as she realized that Hook's mouths was inches from her own.

He was looking hungrily to her mouth in that moment, in a fashion that was much too overwhelming for Wendy to fully comprehend. She had never been party to a real man, and a real man's needs. She wasn't betrothed, and in London society it was highly inappropriate for this kind of behavior.

It was then through all of these worries and thoughts, that Wendy was introduced to Hook's mouth, for his lips were now roughly pressed against her own. Her eyes were widened in horror as his mouth covered her own, his own eyes closed languidly even through Wendy's frozen state. Then as his lips began to move, caressing her own, Wendy felt her stomach bottom out completely.

The world went slowly then, in a haze cloud of warm red. Wendy could feel every hair on her body standing on end, pulling almost painfully in her skin. She could smell the cologne Hook must have put on this morning, felt his soft curls brush her cheek and could sense the need for her kisses radiating from Hook's powerful mouth.

Hook brought her unwilling form closer to his own, his hand trailing from the back of her neck to gently cup her burning cheek. Her lips were so soft, and her body so warm and clean smelling that Hook was nearly dizzy with delight. It had been a long while since he'd had a real lady to warm his bed. He nipped her lower lip tenderly, and was rewarded with a soft gasp.

He pulled the silent Wendy Darling closer to him then, hoping that the suffocating proximity would muffle the incessant pulsation currently going through his entire form.

But of course, something was amiss. She wasn't struggling like the other wench's, but it was just as bad as she wasn't moving at all. He pulled back a moment when he felt she wasn't responding, gazing into her face only to see woeful eyes filled to the brim with tears.

"What are you doing?"

Hook felt a wave of disgust at her timid words, disgust directed at Wendy or himself he wasn't sure. But he was certain of the anger that accompanied such a feeling and he quickly pushed the young girl from him roughly.

She fell onto her elbows on the bed, her eyes focused upon him as he stood quickly. He began slowly pacing back and forth beside the bed, his eyes falling on her frame a minute before whisking away to the dresser. This seemed to calm him, and before long his entire countenance seemed much more in control.

"I apologize." Hook finally intoned flatly, clearly showing Wendy that he didn't mean a word of what he said. "All my manners seem to have briefly left me I'm afraid."

Wendy said nothing; for fear that her words would only provoke him to kiss her further, or worse. She watched his tall frame at the door, his eyes stealing glances at her when he believed she wasn't looking. Hook kissing her? It was all so surreal. Nothing like the stories she had made up. Romance of course was usual in her stories, but this was no story.

Her stomach was still fluttering slightly, and she swallowed thickly to stop the feeling, but it would not let up. Like fairy dust it covered all of her, causing her skin to prickle in a most shiver-inducing manner. It was wrong to be kissed by a man like Hook.

"Tell me a story." Hook suddenly demanded, looking disheveled and confused and suddenly far too humane. Wendy was unsure of what to do, or what story to tell the irritable sea Captain.

"I'm afraid I don't feel much like telling a story." Wendy answered truthfully, drawing her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around them tightly. Her mind and stomach were still whirling from what had just happened. She felt so small then, so small and so very alone.

"I do not enjoy being talked back to, Wendy dear." Hook said dramatically, his mouth had taken on a sneering quality then, his eyes darkening. "I suggest you think of a story quickly."

Wendy gazed up at the looming figure of Hook. He was such a confusing and complex man, and none of her stories about him could help her in deciphering what exactly made him do what he did. It was all so very unsettling for she never knew what to expect of him.

"What about?" She finally sighed.

"Anything you wish." Hook responded quickly, his back to her and his eyes out the cabin window, looking at the placid sea reflecting in the dimly red sunset atop it. It was so red outside, it was frightening.

Wendy was suddenly very sad, and very tired. But she knew better than to get him in a foul mood. But as with most storytellers, her tales did reflect her mood. Had Wendy been in a better mood, she may have told Hook of tales of intrigue and the high seas, battles with dragons and the lot.

But poor Wendy was in a very melancholy mood as she sat there upon Hook's bed, and so her short tale was tinged with that of incomparable sadness. Sadness that she did not know Hook currently shared.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful garden in the yard of a beautiful home where two young children lived, brother and sister." At this, Wendy's eyes grew glassy, but she continued undeterred.

"One day there was a great snowfall in their town, and their garden and home were covered in beautiful white flakes, as far as the eye could see. The brother and sister went out into the snow, playing games and such until the sister declared;

'Let us make a snow doll! She will be the most beautiful thing ever made! Then there will be three of us, and we'll have even more fun!'

Although the boy wasn't keen on the idea of another girl, he relented for his sister's sake. And so they built the snow doll, with a pretty oval face, large eyes and a delicate bow shaped mouth. It looked just like a little girl.

'Perhaps if we give her a kiss,' the young girl suggested, 'Her lips will turn red like ours.'

Hook, still standing at the cabin window gazed at Wendy more harshly then, heavy with meaning from their previous experience. But Wendy continued on with her story, pretending she didn't feel his sharp gaze upon her.

So they kissed the doll and suddenly...its lips turned berry red! But it didn't stop there! Suddenly it's cheeks turned pink, and when a sudden gust of powerful wind from the north blew by, the doll came to life!

It smiled at the children, moved and soon all three of them were playing games and having such fun.

Some time later, the children's Uncle returned from market, and up to see his niece and nephew. But when he saw the girl in white playing with the other two children, he said to himself:

'Why, it must be one of the neighbors daughters.' then he said to the snow maiden, 'Come into the house and get warm.'

The snow maiden protested, but the Uncle would not listen to she or the other children.

'Why, you're freezing!' he bellowed, pushing her into the house. 'Come into the house and get warmed up!'

And so, broken and defeated, the snow maiden did as she was told, for she was no match against the unknowing Uncle. She went in and stood by the window, seeing the snowflakes fall from the heavens ever so gently.

Then she began to weep, and slowly and silently she began to melt, until there was nothing left of her, except a small puddle on the floor."

There was an awful, hollow sound in the cabin then. A sound that reflected the bitterness and sadness of its inhabitants. Instead of being entertained with the tale, Hook looked considerably worse than before. Wendy herself was falling victim to the silent tears that were slipping down her cheeks like the traitors that they were.

"Am I to believe that I am the evil Uncle in this tale?" Hook finally sneered sinisterly, looking to the miserable girl. "And you the snow maiden? Taken from your friends against your will?"

"It is just a story." Wendy replied darkly, but she did feel that there was some truth to her stories. There is always something to be learned from a good story.

"Nothing is ever just a story with you." Hook bit back irritably, moving to his dresser in a fluid motion of purpose. "Nothing is ever as it seems."

"What are you going to do to me?" Wendy suddenly burst out, seeing as Hook was already in a horrid mood. "If you're going to murder me-"

"Oh enough out of you!" Hook exclaimed dramatically, throwing up his arms at her impassioned words. "If I wanted you dead girl, I would have killed you by now I assure you."

Wendy was at a loss, for now she was more than confused. If he didn't want her dead, what did he want her for? Surely not just her stories? Perhaps as a lure for Peter? Yes of course.

"You are to stay aboard the ship, Miss Darling." Hook answered her absently polishing his hook with a nearby rag. Wendy's eyes darted to his face then, positively aghast. "You will tell us stories, and you shall keep me company."

"But where will I lodge?" Wendy asked frantically, looking around the room. "Are there any extra beds available?"

"Oh naive young one." Hook offered a gentle chuckle, coming to rest on the edge of the bed once more. "You shall be sleeping here."

For a moment Wendy let out a sigh of relief. The Captain was at last being a gentleman and offering her his room! All so that she wouldn't have to sleep in the barracks with those animals. She wondered idly where Hook himself would sleep, and decided he must have a spare cabin due to his seniority.

"Thank you Captain." Wendy said softly, grateful for the little he was offering. He gave her a quizzical look but nodded all the same. She was a peculiar girl, he observed. Suddenly though her eyes grew troubled, and he knew what she was about to ask him.

"How long am I to stay aboard your ship then?" Wendy asked gently, her eyes searching Hook's tired eyes. Surely not more than a few days? Surely not more than a week?

"As long as I wish." He replied casually, not seeming the least bit perturbed by her horrified expression. "Forever, if I feel so inclined to keep you here that long."

"But that's not fair." Wendy said ardently, her eyes suddenly more ablaze. "I've done you no unjust wronging!"

"You haven't." Hook said not completely convinced, "And it may come as a shock to you, but the innocent are often persecuted. You'll come to learn that in time."

"But I wish to go home!" Wendy said uselessly, for it was the only thing in her mind. A small part of her hoped that Hook had some compassion and understanding or at least a modicum of decency.

"Wish wish wish." Hook mocked shrilly, giving her a miserable scowl. "Wishing doesn't do much aboard my ship, as you'll soon come to realize."

Wendy was suddenly so weak from this conversation, and the shock of what was happening hadn't fully sunken in yet. All she was was furious, tired and confused and wanted nothing more than some time away from Hook.

"Could you not leave me in peace then?" Wendy said with tears sneaking out the corner of her eyes. Tears were very powerful and tricky things, with minds of their own. Even though Wendy had been swallowing them back, they rushed out her eyes in full force. "Just for now? If I am to live aboard this horrid ship at least let me have some amount of privacy!"

Hook viewed as the temperamental Wendy turned on her side, her back to him then. He stifled a smirk at her suddenly childish antics, perplexed at how she seemed to jump from emotion to emotion so quickly.

But he enjoyed her anger, her unpredictability, her spirit, for there is always something to be found in a girl with spirit.

"How rude," Hook said, hoping to get a rise out of her then as he spoke. "Imagine, a guest like yourself attempting to order me about."

"You said this was to be my room!" Wendy declared, turning to face him and suddenly territorial over the little property she had fooled herself into believing was her own.

"I did indeed." Hook said almost playfully as he removed his vest, watching her eyes follow its movements to the chair beside the large bed. "But this is also my room."

Wendy watched as Hook went to the small box on the dresser and opened it, revealing several varying claws, glinting off the new candlelight. This caught her attention, and her breath as she looked upon Hook's secret.

Hook watched her reflection in the broken mirror, gazing at his hand as he unlocked the claw from its holster, unscrewing it and placing it in the velvet lined box before shutting the top quickly.

He was left then with a leather device still strapped to his arm and poking out the cuff of his shirt, naked without its trademark hook on the end of it. Below his shirt of course, digging into his right shoulder was the rest of the mechanism, was his makeshift arm.

He turned then, removing his boots and grasping a nearby book from the bookcase. Wendy was silent as Hook gently lowered himself onto the bed, his eyes half asleep. He glanced over at her then on the other side of the bed, her lips parted in shock.

�You actually intend to sleep in this bed?�

"Do you wish for something to read?" Hook offered sinisterly, ignoring her question. "Or were you eager to get to bed?"

The last of his words were emphasized with a quick eyebrow raise in her direction.

"Have you no sense of propriety?" Wendy said in horror at this sentiment, her hands coming to grasp a pillow and hold it in front of her like some sort of shield.

"No book then?" Hook asked the defensive girl absently, his light eyes then drawing to the large leather-bound volume in his good hand. "Very well then my dear, suit yourself."

Wendy watched as Hook then propped his head upon his bad arm, and hold his book with his good hand. The bottom of the book rested upon his stomach, and for a moment he looked completely relaxed, and unnervingly normal.

If it weren't for the long hair and lavish clothing, Wendy thought it might have been any of her father's acquaintances enjoying himself on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

But this wasn't one of her father's work colleagues. It was James Hook. She was his victim, his captive and he her villain and monster. Wendy could only watch his display of strange normalcy a moment before turning on her back, facing away from him.

She moved then from the bed quickly before he could strike, and moving to the other side of the cabin with the lone pillow in her shaking hand. She could not spend a night in the same bed as a pirate!

�I thought you wished to defy your parents.� Hook suddenly called to her, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over the foot of his bed, to the corner of the cabin where Wendy was, curled into an uncomfortable ball. �And yet there you are, doing exactly as they�ve always taught you.�

�This is nothing of my parent�s doing.� Wendy insisted, giving him a furious glare. �It is of ingrained moral character. I am not the type of lady who sleeps in the same bed as a grown man she barely knows.�

�Of course.� Hook purred positively diabolically as Wendy turned her face from him angrily. He paused then, seeing that the girl was making no move to join him back in the large bed, and she would freeze over the course of long night on the cold wood planks. He did not wish to have a sick girl on his hands.

�Miss Darling, do come back in this bed.� Hook said gently, shifting his legs over the side of the large bed. �I shall sleep in that large chair there by the window. It is the more gentlemanly thing to do of course.�

�How do I know you won�t try something?� Wendy finally said almost timidly, knowing if Hook intended on doing something un-chivalrous, she really had no way of stopping him. Hook�s face grew serious, and his eyes cloudy.

�I give you my word.�

�The word of a pirate?� Wendy scoffed. �How novel.�

Hook said nothing, but stood and made his way to the large chair by the cabin window. The moonlight danced upon his hair as he sat then, drawing a large blanket over his legs. There he opened his book and went back to ignoring the still seated girl.

Wendy waited a few moments, until she felt her point had been made, and then stood. She walked gingerly to the bed, her breath shallow for fear that he would dart out from his chair and grab her.

But he did not. Hook seemed completely immersed in his novel, and Wendy was able to breath a quiet sigh of relief.

She clamored into the large bed, staying onto her side. And pulling all the blankets atop of her possible, she snuggled down into it, finding it remarkably warm. She made sure her back was to the Captain, and then she closed her tired eyes.

Hook looked over to her almost sleeping frame moments later, finding the entire scene almost endearing. For a brief moment, Hook wondered what it would have been like to have a child. Something to care for, to love�but he decided in the end, a child would prove to be a large nuisance.

Wendy shifted then, giving a shaky sigh that sounded like a gasp for air, undoubtedly to top herself from crying. Hook noted this and in that moment almost regretted keeping her from her family, from those who cared for her.

But then Wendy ruined the sentiment entirely by speaking in an voice choked with dark emotion.

"You are a horrid person James Hook."

The brief flash of sympathy was gone from him, and he immediately grew cold. The words were cutting, and harsh. The truth is like that, it manages to cut through every guard and shield you put up, like an arrow right for the heart that cannot be stopped. James Hook felt the sting of that elusive arrow.

"I know." Hook eventually replied breezily, his eyes upon the words in the book as he spoke to her next, his voice tinged with a sorrow Wendy could not understand, for she was good and loved by many.

"And perhaps you shall come to understand why in time."
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Why swallows build in the eaves of houses