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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
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I do apologize for the shortness of this chapter all, but I do have two papers due this week! Ahh! Wish me luck!

- R.H.J.

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There is a window still standing open

Wendy had been in the cabin by herself for at least four hours, and already she was completely suffering from extreme boredom. For a girl like herself was usually surrounded by that which entertained.

Should she feel like reading, she would grab a book. Should she desire to sew, she would do so. Why, she'd even had piano lessons (at her father's insistence that all polished young ladies played piano) and enjoyed it so, she'd quite excelled.

But she was captive in a small cabin, and utterly depressed about it. Not only because she was never to see her family again, those thoughts came and went often, but because she was able only to lie upon the bed, or stand on the floorboards beside her bed.

She'd of course begun pulling at the rope, only to discover that Hook had tied them quite tightly around her ankles in a (rope name) formation. The one formation, try as she might and as much as she practiced at home, she could never undo.

Knowing that release was not to be soon, she'd resigned herself to playing idly games to pass the morning. She'd already whistled all the tunes she could remember, had recited all the Latin and French teaching she could recall, and looked at the cabin once for a long while before closing her eyes tightly, trying to recall as many of the objects in the room as she could before she eventually relented and opened her eyes in dismay to see she'd missed an absent pot, and forgotten quill.

It was an extremely tedious morning, and so when there was a knock at the cabin door, instead of being rude about the intrusion, Wendy quite eagerly welcomed any visitor who may arrive.

As luck would have it, it was a jovial Smee carrying what seemed to be a small package, tied childishly with a long string of seaweed. It reminded Wendy of the various presents she'd made for her mother as a child, absently wrapped with crinkles and points sticking out all over.

Her mother would always give a smile in delighted surprise, which would please Wendy immensely, and so in accordance, Wendy did the same for an appreciative Smee.

Smee was a dear fellow, and not as callous as the others who inhabited the Jolly Roger. Therefore, Wendy was rather welcoming of his sudden appearance. She rather enjoyed the Irish lilt to his voice, and the way his eyes crinkled behind his spectacles when he smiled.

"Hullo Miss."

"Good morning Smee."

"This is from the Captain." Smee said, placing the package at the end of the bed. Wendy overlooked his business like manner. Instead her curiosity was peaked as she looked to the package upon the bed.

"What is it?"

Smee looked a bit taken aback at this question, for he felt it should be evident. "Why, an evening dress, Miss."

"And why should I have need of an evening dress, Mister Smee?" Wendy almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Imagine needing a fancy dressing gown on the high seas!

"The Captain wishes it." Was Smee's compliant reply as he shrugged to her. And although Wendy saw no need for this impromptu gift, she accepted it with a small and courteous nod.

"Thank you."

Smee gave her a small bow, and prepared to leave, much to Wendy's dismay. She had been hoping for at least a bit of a conversation. Smee was not as crude as the others, and while did not have the dashing quality of the Captain's verbal prose, he was most indeed a treat to converse with.

But as it would appear, Smee's arrival had been as messenger only, and not for her enjoyment. He'd made it to the door when he'd stopped suddenly, looking very confused. Then as if on afterthought, Smee gently slapped his palm to his forehead and made his way over to Wendy in a hurried fashion.

She was excited a moment at his suddenly return, thinking that he may have an intriguing story to tell her, or wish to hear one of her own. This was until she viewed Smee reaching into his pocket in worried haste, and obvious purpose.

"I almost forgot." He said apologetically to her. "This as well."

Wendy opened her palm as Smee placed a small cloth upon it. Wendy thanked him once more, and waited until he had left and the door was closed before she opened it.

Wendy was wary of any gift given to her by the Captain. Even though he had been most cordial, and even gentle at times, Wendy knew to be continually on her guard around him.

She looked at the object in her hand, and weighed it mildly in her hand. It was not heavy, but it was not light. It was as if she were holding a fair sized stone in her palm.

When the covered object was finally unveiled, Wendy did look upon it in quiet awe. It was a small comb, no longer than her hand, with a breathtaking gold seashell at the top. Along the bottom of the shell were several red rubies glinting up at Wendy entrancingly.

It was the very comb of her dreams, and for the first time Wendy was aware that there were many facets to James Hook that she had not even come close to touching upon.

*

"Well?"

Smee came over to his superior, his breathing ragged from his hastily made journey from the cabin back on deck where an earnest James Hook was waiting impatiently, visibly agitated.

"Well what, Captain?"

Hook rolled his eyes temporarily irritated before he looked back to Smee, back to the only person Wendy trusted upon this vessel, his only mutual link to the young woman.

He himself been waiting a good five minutes upon the deck, with the slight wind tousling his hair, for his minion to return to him, and now that he had, Hook found Smee to be entirely useless at crucial times such as these. Smee often did not sense the urgency of a moment, but he was a loyal man, and therefore Hook was certain he should not kill him.

"What was her response to the gift?" Hook asked greedily, wanting to know every detail. The look of her eyes, had she smiled? Had she inquired further about him? Had she seemed worried? Hook finally decided upon a rather generic: "Was she pleased?"

"Oh," Smee said as if remembering and then looking rather hesitant. "She seemed rather...well, rather confused, Captain."

He shied from the Captain then, for this was surely not the response Hook was waiting for. He had been waiting upon this deck for the girl's reply, and 'confused' undoubtedly would leave the Captain displeased. And when the Captain was displeased, he seemed to favor conversing with the claw.

"She did say, 'thank you'." Smee added hastily, but did not include whom the girl had directed this thanks towards.

Hook walked along the deck of the ship then, with Smee trailing alongside him, hoping the sea air would calm his irritable superior. Hook's face was truly unreadable, for he'd long since mastered a look of complete indifference when there was a tumultuous hurricane within. It was the sign of a truly good leader.

But, there was one give away within the Captain's face, and it lay within his eyes. If Smee were to find even the slightest trace of red, he would not live to see another sunrise.

And so, minutes later with Hook barking orders now and then at those they walked past, Smee finally did find the courage to look to the eyes of Hook and breathe a sigh of soft relief.

For the eyes Smee viewed were pale,( and to women entrancing), and did not contain the slightest of angry inclinations. Only a pale blue shone from the eyes of the Captain, and h did not strike Smee, nor did he seem irritated at the girl's response.

"Did you remember the comb?" Hook asked suddenly, and Smee was glad to have remembered, for at certain times he was a most forgetful fellow. If he had forgotten in this particular case, he knew he would have regretted it dearly.

"I did."

"What was her response then?"

"I'm not sure, Captain." Smee faltered, "You see she would not open it up until I left. You know girls and their privacy. She probably loved it though Captain, girl's love jewelry."

"Stop your blabbering, Smee." Hook said absently, but without the usual trace of irritation. He seemed more distracted, but in a calm fashion. He waved off Smee's company with a lazy hand, thankful for the peace. Smee did blather on when anxious.

Hook's eyes drew upon the wide blue of the ocean then. It was a marvelous day, which meant that Pan was well. It was good to have him well, Hook knew, for the sole purpose of fine weather.

Winter was such a bother, that it almost pained him as it came to his ship. Everything so unnaturally cold and still. It was the only thing Hook was actually appreciative of when it came to Pan, how he brought the fine spring weather.

Now though, his mind was on the unwilling Wendy. A challenge. She obviously did not know of his hunger for a challenge. With Pan undoubtedly out of the way, he was free to enjoy the thrill of the hunt, as it were, with Miss Darling solely, no distractions.

"She is a queer girl." Hook finally mused, almost smiling gently. "It shall be a grand adventure to find out exactly why."

*

It was early evening when Hook returned to the small cabin where Wendy resided. He had the good grace to knock before he entered, not that it mattered. Wendy had not changed from her London clothes, and was lying upon the bed in a bored haze trying to count all the nails in the roof she could see.

"Come in."

She had hoped it was Smee, but seeing the Captain's familiar face (and not noticing the bouquet of unique flowers he held in his arms) she simply sneered, and turned from him.

"Good evening, Miss Darling." Hook said in a most cordial fashion, slightly irritated at her frigid welcome. But Wendy had been raised with manners, and should she be approached with such, she was to return the favor.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Have you bathed?"

"Yes." Wendy replied with a blush, not seeing as how it was any of Hook's concern. Several of his men had come in, with Smee and Hook's key in hand, and dropped a large basin of warm water before the bed.

When they'd left, she'd made a tent from the bed over she and the makeshift tub as she bathed. She'd been more than welcome of the gift, and used the varying perfumes accompanying such to wash her hair, although bathing was a trial when bound.

But now her prior cheer was gone. She was still Hook's prisoner.

"You are not dressed." Hook said, his eyes starting to darken as he viewed the untouched package on the chair beside the bed. If one were to look, they would see just a flicker of red around his pupil before he calmed himself, and it was gone.

"I am not."

"And why are you not?" Hook said testily, not appreciating this game of hers.

"I do not wish to join you for dinner. I am not hungry." Wendy replied haughtily, shocked at her own rudeness. It was a lie of course, for Wendy's stomach rumbled then through her words, for she hadn't eaten all day.

"You are not required to eat." Hook retorted smoothly, inhaling deeply. "I simply desire your company this evening."

"I'm afraid that I won't be up to it tonight." Wendy said, turning to him then, feeling the slightest pangs of guilt. She was a compassionate girl, and Hook's words had managed to chip away at her resolve. But she was also a clever girl and knew that this was just Hook's plan to fool her into thinking he was a kind and patient man.

Hook was still, with his eyes burning into her face. She could not breathe properly, and she found she had to look away from his dangerously placid face. Perhaps he would leave?

"I believe I made myself quite clear earlier." Hook said dangerously polite, the red in his eyes beginning to glow ever so slightly. "While on my ship, you shall obey my orders."

"I am not on your ship out of free will." Wendy countered, coming off the bed and standing as far from the bed as she was able. She gave him a most cooling gaze and turned her head from him to show her feelings on the subject.

"I would appreciate it if you would leave."

Hook did not know what infuriated him more. The fact that she made him feel a stranger in his own room, or the fact that he'd prepared a fine dinner for her just to have it thrown in his face.

Either way, it was not becoming of a young lady, nor was it how any Captain was treated. In an instant the flowers were dropped to the floor, and he had rushed over and gripped the girl's upper arm in his tight grasp, as he glared down at her furiously.

"You are a truly spoiled child, Wendy Darling."

"Get your hands off of me." She finally spoke lowly, feeling more timid that her bold words would suggest. "I am not spoiled, I've just never been treated as shamefully as this!"

Hook was furious at her actions and her words. Furious at her for making him feel a stranger in his own private rooms. What right had she to make him feel unwelcome on his own ship? And hadn't he given her as much as he could so far? A nice room? A certain amount of privacy? A lovely dress and comb she surely desired?

Suddenly his hand squeezed tighter around Wendy's arm, causing a trickle of fear and pain to shoot through her.

"You will join me for dinner this evening!" Hook barked into Wendy's frightened face, "And you will be civilized or no amount of Pan's promise keeping will keep you from my wrath!"

"You're hurting me!" Wendy squealed more out of fright than out of pain. Hook dropped her arm moments later, giving her a most withering look that she knew she must obey.

He towered over her when standing before her, and Wendy was suddenly aware of just how strong a man he was. Should she wish to escape from the clutches of James Hook, she would have to be most creative.

"I shall return in less than an hour." Hook growled as Wendy crawled back onto the bed, feeling so small and helpless then. Hook glanced over his shoulder, administering the final threatening blow upon the nearly shaking young woman.

"Unless you wish to suffer far worse punishment." Hook warned with a derisive sneer in Wendy's direction before he left her alone in the cold cabin. "Do not keep me waiting."
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Why swallows build in the eaves of houses