A/N: This is part 3 of a series, so if you haven't read Kidnapped: Taken and Kidnapped: Captive, you should go back and read those first. Part 3 picks up 6 years after the end of Captive, and you're going to be a tad confused if you start here.

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly over the bay, making the waves sparkle like diamonds. A warm breeze blew, providing a pleasant reminder that spring was here. The port city was a bustle of activity, with the multitude of ships that were entering and leaving providing testament that this was a center of trade. A medium sized ship, notable only for its elaborate aft, held its place at the mouth of the bay. Onboard, the men were going about their duties cheerfully, singing as they hauled the lines and performed their duties. They had every reason to be happy. They had just returned from a very profitable run and were looking forward to spending their shares in the port city.

Of course, the Captain was holding most of their shares, since he didn't want his men drawing attention to themselves. What would the local authorities think if they found a few scurvy-looking sea-salts spending a lord's ransom on booze and whores? They would think the men were pirates, and they would be correct. Neither the Captain nor his crew wanted to swing because one of their men got careless. They all knew from experience that leaving their loot with the Captain was the best course; they could splurge their earnings when they signed off the ship or when they were in a lesser port.

"All clear!" came the call from the crow's nest. "No sign of navy ships, except for the normal port patrol."

"Ay, ay, lad," the bosun called back. "Now get yerself down 'ere and help the men put to port!"

"Ay, bosun!" the youth called back.

Suddenly, the air was rent with a panicked scream from above. The men on deck looked up in alarm and watched, horrified as the youth tumbled from the crow's nest.

"Saints preserve us!" gasped the bosun.

At the last moment, the boy's arms reached out and snagged a line. He flipped over and around it, killing his momentum before swinging to the yard arm. He swung over that, did a handstand, then dropped lightly to the deck. He laughed in delight at the stunned expressions on the men's faces and bowed. The men, relieved, chuckled and went back to their duties.

"Mr. Hook! Ye'll give me a heart attack! I'm not a young lad like ya are! The Cap'n would keel-haul me if anythin' happens to ya on me watch."

"Top o' the mornin' to you, too, Mr. Smee!" the youth replied with a cocky grin. "Cheer up! We can get off this crate for awhile and go see the sights. Maybe Mullins will get in a fight again."

"Ye likes fightin' too much lad…" Mr. Smee began, when suddenly the door to the captain's cabin flew open with a bang.

"PETER! My quarters, NOW!" roared a deep voice from within.

Peter Hook's face blanched and his grin vanished. "Ay, ay, Captain Hook, sir!" he called back. He looked at Smee worriedly and whispered, "Do you think he saw me?"

"Most likely. Ya know ya can't get away with nothin' round him, I dunno why ya still try," Smee whispered back with a knowing smile. "Now hurry lad, and be careful, or he'll cancel yer shore leave."

Peter nodded and quickly made his way to where the pirate captain waited. He saw his shipmates watching, but only Mason would look him in the eye. The large carpenter winked and wished him luck, and then Peter stepped inside.

Mr. Smee watched as the youth disappeared into the cabin and closed the door behind him. He chuckled as he went back to steering the ship. "That boy! He makes the Cap'n proud, he does. He'll make a fine man one day, if the Cap'n don't kill 'em first."

"Father?" Peter asked softly as he entered the room.

"Close the door," Captain James Hook growled softly. Peter obeyed quickly and stood quietly, awaiting his captain. He knew he needed to be careful and not anger the man further. He didn't want to jeopardize his time off the ship. Why did I do that? It seemed like a good idea. And it was so funny seeing the look on their faces. But now Father is angry. He never liked to get his father angry. Hook was a lot bigger than Peter, and his temperament was unpredictable. Hook was just as likely to pat him on the back for that stunt as he was to whip him for it. Peter wasn't afraid of Hook, but he did fear disappointing the man. He wanted his father to approve of him. He's the only family I have.

Hook sat at his desk and stared at the youth. He could see the worry on Peter's face. Part of him felt satisfaction seeing it there. Let him agonize for a bit, maybe he'll think next time before doing that again. Another part of him sympathized with the boy and felt shamed at his pleasure in Peter's discomfort. He took a moment to study the boy – young man – standing before him.

Peter stood straight and tall before the Captain's desk. He was a handsome youth. Brown, slightly curly hair, pulled back into a pony tail that ended between his shoulder blades; startling blue eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. He was nearly grown, and by Captain Hook's reckoning, would be close to sixteen years old – physically. But it was hard to tell, Peter seemed to be a different age every time he looked at him. At the least, he could be fourteen, but Hook suspected it was closer to sixteen.

He's grown so much the past six years, Hook mused as he continued to glower at the boy. He's becoming a man, and a fine one at that. There's still a lot of Pan in him, though. He's cocky, willful, mischievous … everything I hated in him before. Not anymore, though. He's my boy now, and I love him.

Finally, Hook sighed. "What am I going to do with you? Do you know how much you frightened me? You know you aren't supposed to pull stunts like that; my ship is NOT a playground! Every man on this ship would lay down his life for you – and you endanger it with your showing off!" Peter's face flushed at that and he bowed his head in shame. Remembering the fear that had frozen his heart when he saw Peter fall, Hook felt himself grow even angrier. "When will you learn? Are you ever going to grow up?" he roared. He stood and slammed his hook into the desk, gouging it. Peter jumped and his eyes grew larger. In a cold, calm voice, Hook continued, "maybe I should give you some time to reflect. Maybe I should punish you by suspending your shore leave, indefinitely."

Peter's face went deathly white. He imagined another few weeks (or, dear God, months) aboard ship. Salt air, waves, rations, Cookson's food… the thought of that made him sick. He longed with all his heart for green trees, fresh air, solid earth, ripe fruit – and a little time of true solitude in the forest outside the city.

"Please, Father, no!" he begged, "I can't stay here any longer. I have to get off this ship! I'm sorry for what I did, but I was just so happy to know we were here… I felt like I could fly!" Peter closed his mouth quickly. His father allowed no nonsense from him, and got angry when Peter said foolish things. Certain subjects, like fairies, magic, dragons, flying people, angered the man to the point that Peter wasn't even allowed to read fairy tale stories. He didn't know where these notions came from; he thought perhaps he dreamt them, but he never remembered his dreams. Not even his nightmares, which were frequent.

But Hook didn't seem to mind his slip, so he continued. "I love the Jolly Roger, and I'm proud to be a part of her crew. But I'm not a true salt like Mullins. I miss the land. It's odd – I don't remember living on land, just shore leaves, but I know I did once." He realized he was babbling and shaking. He took a few breaths to calm himself and waited for Hook to mete out his punishment.

Hook sighed, the anger leaving him when he saw how pale Peter was. He needs off, soon. It's dangerous to keep him more than a few more days. "I know lad," Hook said soothingly. "Sit and let's talk." He waited while Peter took a chair across from him. "I know being ship-bound for too long is hard on you. I won't keep you here, but," he added quickly when he saw Peter's eyes light up, "I can't let you off. I can't let you get by with things. You're my son, but I can't treat you differently in front of the men. If I do, then they'll resent you and you'll lose their respect." I know - it's a hard lesson I learned from my own brother.

"Yes, sir," Peter interjected, "'And whether through fear or love, a proper Captain must always have his men's respect, or they'll turn on him like jackals'," Peter intoned in an exact mimicry of Hook's voice. He even held up his right hand, first finger extended and crooked as an imaginary hook.

"You know I hate it when you do that," Hook growled, his smile contradicting the tone of his voice. "It's one of your more irritating abilities."

"But Father, I only do it because I want to be just like you!" Peter said with a chuckle.

"Be serious, boy!" Hook snapped.

Peter sobered up. "But I am. I DO want to be like you. But I'm not," he looked down and said no more.

Hook knew what he was saying, but did not comment. Peter knew that there were questions that his father and the crew would not discuss with him: if Hook was his father, why did they look nothing alike; who was his mother and what happened to her; where was he born. He had no memories prior to about six years ago, and everyone else seemed happy to leave it that way. He resented the secrets, but learned long ago it was better not to ask.

"Now, back to your transgressions, boy. I know you were trying to change the subject. You and I will stay aboard today and tonight, while the rest of the crewmen go ashore," Peter's shoulders sagged, "and we will have lessons. Mr. Mullins and most of the others will return tonight, and in the morning you may go ashore."

Peter stared at his knees, "Ay, sir."

"Dismissed," Hook replied and pretended to go back to writing in his logs. He surreptitiously watched Peter as he trudged to the door. "Peter," he called and the boy turned, "I haven't had to lay a hand to you in a long time, nearly a year. But if you would rather, I'll give you a dozen with the cat and let you go with them when we reach shore." Hook seriously didn't know which the boy would take, but if Peter really needed to get off ship, he should give the boy a way out.

Peter considered for a second, then shook his head. "No, father, one more night won't kill me." He gave a bit of a smile, "Maybe we'll play chess or practice swordplay. We'll have the ship all to ourselves."

Hook nodded, "That will be nice for a change." Peter nodded back and left.

Father, Hook mused. I never get tired of hearing him say that. Who would have thought that I, James Hook would ever have a child… a child that loved me and that I loved in return… or that that child would be Peter Pan? Chuckling at the ironies of life, he returned to filling out his logs.

"Peter!" Billy Jukes called when he saw Peter exit the Captain's quarters.

Peter flashed his friend a warm smile and walked over to where he was working.

"So?" Billy asked, "What's the verdict? Are we still gonna have fun tonight?"

"No," Peter sighed, "I'm ship-bound until tomorrow. Everyone else can go; Cap'n and I will keep watch until we're relieved tonight."

Billy swore, "Damn it! Well… I guess I'll stay here today, too. We'll celebrate tomorrow!"

Peter shook his head, "No, Billy. I'm being punished, and what kind of punishment would it be if my best friend kept me company." Besides, I'm looking forward to some time alone with father. Peter was still very disappointed about having to stay behind; he would have loved to go with Billy. They and the other men would definitely have raised hell.

Even though he was the youngest member of the crew, the other men appreciated having him with them. Peter drank little and never got drunk, so he was their level head when they were inebriated. He had sharp eyes and ears, and on several occasions had picked up tips that helped them avoid hazards (like blockades and ambushes) or further their pocketbooks (Peter was an excellent pickpocket). And, even Hook grudgingly admitted, Peter was the best fighter on the ship. He wasn't nearly as strong as Hook or Mason, or even Mullins (though he wasn't weak, either). He was just so damn quick, no one could keep up. His speed coupled with his acrobatic ability meant he could hit an enemy several times and avoid their blows – most of the time.

"Well," Billy chuckled, "I guess if I don't go, Cap'n will just toss me overboard. Ah, well, I was going to introduce you to a very special lady tonight. Me 'n the other mates chipped in."

Peter sighed, "Good thing I'm NOT going, then."

"Aw, Pete, you don't know what yer missin'!" Mason gave Peter a pat on the back that almost knocked him over. "We're gonna make a man of ya one of these days. 'Sides, it's yer birthday present, since we were at sea when it came."

"Ay, Peter," Jukes added, "you have to accept, 'cause it's a gift. You don't wanna hurt our feelings." He saw the conflict in Peter's eyes and pressed on, "I happen to know a lass here, Marissa, who definitely had her eyes on you last time. I'll bet she'd give you a birthday kiss for free."

Peter blushed. Why didn't they just leave him alone? It wasn't that he didn't like girls. No, he was very interested. But, he sensed danger there, and he was afraid of crossing that line. He wanted to become a man in their eyes, to gain their full measure of respect and camaraderie. But, he also felt he wasn't ready yet, and that if he did that, he could never go back. Back to where, he didn't know, but it was important.

Starkey walked up and put in his two cents, "Petey boy, what's the matter? Don't you like the ladies? What are you, a fairy?"

"Shut up, Starkey!" Mason growled and thumped Starkey on the head. Everyone else grew quiet. Starkey had said one of those words, which everyone knew were forbidden. Hook's greatest fear was that Peter would remember who he was and what had been done to him. No one was to say anything that could jog a memory, and stories about events that happened in Neverland were forbidden. Ships were not conducive to privacy, and you never knew if Peter might be in earshot. And no one ever said how Hook lost his hand; just that it was in a battle with his greatest enemy and Hook didn't want it spoken of.

Peter, meanwhile, had gone very quiet. They saw the gleam in his eyes and knew Starkey had struck a nerve. Peter drew his sword and slowly advanced on the man.

"S-sorry, Peter," quavered Starkey as he backed away. Why in the world did I say that, knowing he's been ship-bound too long and in one of his moods. He knew better than to draw his own sword. Peter wouldn't kill him, Peter only killed if he had no choice, but the boy was known to be cruel in his battles if he was angry.

"S-sorry, Peter," Peter mimicked in Starkey's voice. Starkey moaned, recognizing the bad sign. In moments, Peter had driven the man against the mainmast and held him there with the point of his sword at his throat. "I don't know what I am, no thanks to the rest of you. Maybe I am a fairy, but not in the sense you used the word. Maybe Father isn't my father and you have all lied to me."

Billy reached out and put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "He was just teasing. You know we all stand with you, Peter. The Cap'n has his reasons for not telling you anything. The past is painful, and he thinks it's better for you not to remember. If we wanted to hurt you, we'd tell you what you want to know."

Peter blinked, realizing what he was doing, and put away his sword. "I'm sorry, Starkey," he said earnestly and offered the man his hand. Starkey took it with a sigh of relief and a smile. "I'm not myself," he continued, "I need some steady ground for a bit to steady myself. I appreciate your gift, guys, but I'm just not ready for that. Go, have fun, toast my health tonight and stay out of too much trouble. Cap'n won't be happy if he has to let me out of my punishment so we can break you out of prison. We'll have fun tomorrow."

Soon, the ship was docked and the gangplank was lowered. Peter stood by the railing and watched his mates go ashore for rest and recreation. "Give 'em Hell!" he called as they disappeared into the crowds. He stood by the railing for a long time and stared at the shore, thinking.

Captain Hook stood in the doorway, watching Peter as he stood by the railing. "Well, my boy," he called as he walked towards the youth, "care for some exercise?"

Peter turned and faced his father. God, he looks so young! Hook thought in amazement, and not for the first time. He'd often wondered how much fairy magic clung to Peter (or to the rest of them for that matter). How else could it be that even after six years in the mortal realm could Peter still be so ageless. Were it not for his height, Hook would swear that this was the little boy he had brought aboard and adopted as his own, and not the teen that called him Father.

Hook knew that when Peter was in this state, when his innate magic shone through so strongly, he was most susceptible to memories. Peter would sometimes say things that indicated he remembered a bit. A few times, Pan had struck out at him, but it had been awhile since that last incident. Later, Peter would not remember what he'd said, or any memories he had recovered. Instead, he would be left only with a vague impression of jumbled images. The best thing Hook knew to do in these potentially dangerous situations was to distract the boy.

"Come, son, you need the practice," he teased, knowing that Peter was the best sword on the ship.

Peter nodded slowly, not returning with his own comment, and drew his sword. They fell to and began their workout.

Hook soon discovered that Peter wasn't concentrating on the fight. Even on his best day, he knew he couldn't beat the boy in an honest fight. When Peter had been Pan, Hook only held his own because the child didn't know the proper way to fight with a blade. Pan's youth and agility were pitted against Hook's experience and strength. Since joining the crew, Hook had seen to it that Peter got formal training in weaponry. Now Peter's agility and speed were coupled with the strength and experience to make the most of it. Hook still challenged Peter because he still had an advantage, an ability that Peter could not and would not learn: Hook fought dirty.

Now, however, Hook wasn't using a single trick. Peter had missed several openings and wasn't doing more than going through the motions. The boy wasn't even taunting him, as he usually did. He's not concentrating, he's being sloppy. I'm going to have to make a point, Hook thought. He growled angrily and picked up the pace. He put Peter through a flurry of moves and counters. Too late, Peter tried to focus on the fight and save himself. In moments, Peter was disarmed. In another moment, Hook had knocked the feet out from under the youth. Peter lay on his back and looked up at the point of Hook's sword only an inch from his eye.

"That was unacceptable, Mr. Hook," the Captain stated flatly. "I hope you were not trying to insult me by denying me your complete attention. Do I have your attention now?"

Peter gasped, the wind having been knocked from him when he hit the deck. "My apologies, Captain. It won't happen again," he replied.

Hook looked at the boy, but did not remove the weapon. He could see the embarrassment in his face and knew he did indeed have his son's complete attention now. Finally, he nodded and sheathed his sword.

Peter let out the breath he'd been holding. He remained on the deck until Hook held his hand out to help him up. When the Captain was making his point, you didn't move until he gave you leave. Peter took the offered hand and stood up.

"Shall we try again?" Hook challenged.

Peter gave him a wicked grin. "Ay, Captain. I won't go easy on you this time." They fell to again and this time Peter gave Hook his full, unwavering attention.