Author's note: I love you all.

Chapter 13

They rowed ashore in silence, as Wendy watched the Captain and wondered at his actions. He'd certainly proven that he was still the same bloodthirsty pirate he'd been before, yet instead of the senseless bloodshed of the past, this time his actions had been fully justified. It had been for her, to protect her both now and in the future. Strange, and yet somehow necessary, in this wild land. Had the murderous pirate Captain of old been tamed by a mere Storyteller?

Grasping hands suddenly invaded her mind, and she flinched. Taking a deep breath, she began the calming technique she'd learned to employ back home, to avoid other memories from overwhelming her. Concentrating on her heartbeat, she attempted to filter out the tangible recollections from before. Slowly, she could feel her pulse returning to normal.

She was jolted out of her musings as the Captain jumped out of the boat, and began hauling it towards the shore. They'd arrived at their destination, although she could not figure out his motives. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the boat, for which she was grateful. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

Giving a mental shrug, she leapt over the side as well, exulting in the pull of the ocean around her as they trudged ashore. It was the simplistic things that always seemed so powerful in Neverland. The way the sun, quite literally, warmed the earth, the spread of the trees both above into the sky and below into the earth, the sound of the heartbeat of the ocean against the shore: they all connected her more deeply to this place then she could explain.

Once he'd tied the rowboat to a nearby tree, he turned to face her. "Well, Red."

She raised her brows. "Well." Was he expect her to begin sobbing? To fall apart and question the meaning of life merely because her own had been threatened? If he made one soothing sound… Wendy heard her mental fuming and fought back a laugh. The Captain? Soothing? Certainly not!

He pulled a rolled bundle out of the boat, and tossed it on the ground. "Pick your weapon."

She frowned as she bent down, and unwrapped the cloth bundle. There were several swords, daggers and even a mace. She pulled out a sword, feeling the same childhood enthusiasm rush back. As a young girl, John had taught her what his fencing captain had passed along. She hadn't practiced in years, but here, in this place, she felt that it wouldn't be too difficult to remember.

The Captain had selected his sword, and swept it to the side in a salute. "Shall we?"

Wendy felt a grin creep across her face. "We shall."

/'/\'\

"No, move your feet!" he snapped again. Wendy shook her hair back and renewed her grip. He'd been a tough tutor, and was showing no mercy. The more aggressive he got, the deeper her desire to inflict bodily harm grew. She would try harder, but he would not let up. She was gaining new bruises, and she'd fallen more times than she'd care to count. Her desire to see his blood was steadily solidifying. He seemed barely winded, although his damp shirt showed the effort he was exerting.

"Enough. Swords down. Now daggers. You need to know how to kill at close range."

Not once had he treated her like a victim. Never had the words 'protection,' 'defend,' or 'last resort' been uttered. It sounded as if he were training her to sail into battle with the rest of them. And she relished it.

/'/\'\

"Enough. Time to head back." She let out a deep sigh of relief, and began collecting the various implements of death. He'd pushed her hard, and her entire body was sore, but she was happy. She'd even laughed a few times. She glanced over at him and caught a satisfied smirk hovering around the corner of his mouth. Oh, Captain.

As they rowed back, she allowed herself to watch him work. He'd had an oar specially designed to fit his hook, and he didn't seem to mind the discomfort. He made the process look smooth, easy, and downright fun.

He was watching her watch him, and finally growled, "What?"

"Thank you, Captain. You saved my life, and you didn't treat me like a damsel in distress." His mouth twitched. "And you taught me how to fight," she amended.

He simply nodded. She knew they would not revisit the subject, and turned her attention to the oncoming Jolly Rodger. "Perhaps this time I can climb aboard without knocking you in the head?"

His mouth twitched again, but he only grunted. "Perhaps."

/'/\'\

Wendy smiled at the man standing beside her in the mirror, and resolutely pushed away the lingering feeling that she was doing something wrong. "I'm ready when you are," she said aloud.

David bent his head slightly, dimples flashing, then paused. "Wait, your hair."

She looked at her reflection, confused. "What about it?" It was pinned up in the fashionable style of young women who were ready for courting. It had taken her over two weeks and many tears to learn how to do it correctly, and it still had a horrid propensity to tumble down if she moved the wrong way.

"It needs fixing," said the man beside her, reaching out to adjust it.

She jerked her head away with a laugh. "Now David, don't touch it or it'll fall all to pieces again." Even that quick movement sent a pin sliding out, and she pushed it back in with a sigh. Thick hair had been such a curse her whole life.

David frowned. "Hold still. I am trying to make you look more presentable, less wild. Also, when we are married, I'll buy you better clothes. This dress looks just…shabby."

Her smile faded as she looked at the man beside her. "I am perfectly presentable, thank you very much," she said, her tone turning icy. "I have worked hard to do the best with what I have. My hair is staying in place, for once, therefore I am happy."

At once, his demeanor shifted. The pleasant smile on his face froze into place, and his hand grabbed her arm before she could blink. He squeezed and twisted it roughly, causing her to fall back against the wall.

"David, please let me go," she said, her voice quavering with fear. He squeezed harder, and she shrank back until she was pressed against the wall. "You're hurting me, let me go!"

He sneered down at her. "Wife is second to Husband. When will you learn to speak properly to your betters? If I'm going to marry you and take you out of this hovel, you are going to learn some respect!" With that, he let go of her arm and slapped her across the face.

Michael ran into the room, and stopped, shocked, at the scene. "Wendy?"

David turned toward her brother menacingly. "I am the answer to your family's financial woe. Don't ruin it now."

Her brother sent her a concerned look, but Wendy nodded quietly and got to her feet. "Don't worry, Michael. I'm alright."

She would simply have to watch her step. After all, David was pleasant enough, most of the time. As long as she refrained from speaking her mind, their marriage would work. Her family needed him. As the only girl, it was up to her to make an advantageous match. David was the best suitor she'd received, and the only one who could single-handedly take them out of misfortune.

She straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin with a smile at the two men. "Shall we join the others?"

They turned to walk out the door, but then the memory-dream changed. Instead of following Michael and turning to escort her down the stairs, David closed and locked the door. He faced her with a ominous laugh, and said softly, "Now it's time for the remainder of your education."

His hands reached out, tearing her clothes, which had somehow become the nightshirt the Captain had given her to sleep in. She cried out as his hands ripped the soft cloth, and reached out for help.

To her surprise, the dream shifted again, only now she could see her sleeping self. It was strange, but it appeared as if she glowed, almost like the fairies. She watched as her body turned to the side, to curl into…someone sleeping beside her? The room was dark, but there was certainly a masculine form with her, and as Wendy watched, his arm curled around her to pull her closer protectively. Her sleeping form below sighed in contentment, and she realized to her surprise that she could smell that now-familiar and comforting blend of tobacco and whiskey. The Captain, somehow, was there with her.

/'/\'\

Wendy suddenly woke with a gasp. She lay still for a few moments, trying to sort out which had been memory, which had been nightmare, and which was only a dream. It had been so vivid, so real, but her nightshirt remained in one piece, and the only bruises on her body were from the encounter earlier today. She slowly reached out to the bed beside her, but it was cold and empty. The Captain had only been a dream as well. She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach, and sat up. What would she have done if it had been real? It was certainly improper of her to have such dreams, let alone wish that they had been true.

She sighed and lifted a hand to her head. As she slowly pieced her surroundings together, she realized that she could hear loud snoring coming from just outside the room.

Frowning slightly, she pushed back the covers and slid out of the tall bed. Unwilling to creep about in the nightshirt, she opened the closet door and pulled out the robe she had seen earlier. What the Captain didn't know wouldn't hurt him, she figured with a mental shrug.

She crept to the door and cracked it open, then put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Smee sat sprawled in a chair in the hallway, mouth open in a loud snore, clutching a large wooden hammer in his arms. She wondered if he was on post due to the Captain's orders, or out of the goodness of his blessed heart. She closed the door slowly and tiptoed past him cautiously. She needed time to think, and the ocean called to her.

Slipping onto the deck, she nodded at the night sentry, who gave her a half grin then promptly focused on the horizon, ignoring her resolutely. There were few pirates on deck, most were playing a quiet card game on the opposite end. They glanced in her direction, but quickly went back to their game. The Captain's earlier actions were, no doubt, fresh in their minds.

The deck was blissfully peaceful, and she sighed with happiness. Walking to the portside, she leaned against the rail, gazing at the relentless rhythm of water on the beach.

"Can't sleep?"

Wendy jumped and whirled, seeing the silhouette of the Captain against the moon standing a few paces away. Unexpectedly, this caused her pulse to speed up. He electrified her blood, caused her body to sing with awareness, simply by standing near her.

She was mildly surprised to find that she wanted him to be there. She had somehow needed him, and he had appeared. The thought gave rise to a question that had been troubling her for many nights now. "How did you know?"

He bent his head, and adjusted his sleeve. She realized that he seemed more like a man than the Captain tonight, wearing only his shirt and trousers and standing before her barefoot and bareheaded, much like herself. His hook, however, remained, and she found herself pausing a moment to wonder when, if ever, he took it off.

She pushed on. He'd been forthcoming earlier that afternoon, and she wanted more answers. "How? You knew when I needed you today, you came to my rescue with the croc, and you knew when I arrived. How?" She refused to bring up the curious dreams. Those were, of course, only her subconscious desires manifesting themselves.

He ignored her questions, and instead looked pointedly at her outfit. "It's dangerous to be out here dressed in that." His sweeping glance seemed to take in everything, and before he turned away, she thought she could detect desire in his expression.

She folded her arms self-consciously. True, she was wearing his nightshirt, but she'd grabbed his robe as cover as well. She hadn't expected to share the early morning hours with another soul, especially not his.

Choosing not to reply, she turned her face to the breeze, grateful for the cool air. The nightmare truly had been horrid. Flashes of an angry face and grasping hands flickered in her mind, but she pushed them quickly away.

Beside her, the Captain stiffened and turned to look at her, his penetrating gaze entirely too thoughtful for her comfort. She avoided his eyes, but then he spoke. "Wendy." Both his tone and the fact that he called her by her given name told her immediately that he knew. Somehow, he knew.

She began to move away, but his hand grabbed hers, and he lifted her sleeve once more to reveal the faint, nearly healed bruises on her arm, neatly overlapped by the fresh ones inflicted earlier that day. He grabbed her other hand, sliding his hook up her arm to reveal the matching bruises there, as well. She shivered, both at the sensation and the memory. They both stared at her arms for a moment, then he lifted his eyes to hers once more.

"Who?" His voice surprised her; he sounded as if he were lazily inquiring about the weather, but his face spoke of blood and fiery retribution.

She hesitated. She didn't want to share this deep, dark secret; she felt that it reflected badly upon her, and she felt guilty. Then an idea occurred to her. "What would you say to a deal?" He still hadn't released her, and his proximity was affecting her ability to breathe.

He raised a brow, his lips twitching. "I'm listening."

She lost track of her thoughts for a moment as she looked up at him so close beside her, nearly overwhelmed by the desire to stand on tiptoe and press her mouth to his. What would his mustache feel like against her skin? She shook herself, flustered. This wild land was wreaking havoc on her proper ladylike upbringing. "I'll tell you about this," she gestured to her arms, "if you tell me how you know."

He paused. He was not in the practice of divulging information to anyone, let alone someone who had such power over him. If she knew the lengths to which he'd go for her, what would she do? He glanced down at her, and caught an unbidden flash of her thoughts; she was trying very hard not to think about what he'd taste like. His eyes darkened in response, and he pulled her closer without thinking. "Very well, Red." His voice was low, nearly a growl.

She definitely couldn't breathe. His eyes were steadily darkening to cobalt, nearly black. As she stared up at him, he waited, but still did not release her. "C-captain?"

His mouth quirked up in a grin. "Well, my lady Red, it's a practice in these parts to seal a deal with a thimble." As understanding flashed in her eyes, he hesitated for a short moment, to give her time to refuse. Instead, she twisted her hand around to grasp his arm for balance. With that, he closed the last few inches between them and, finally.

Her mind whirled with sensation, impressions moving through her so swiftly she felt that she was caught in a whirlwind. The ocean's breeze brushing against them, the feel of his body pressed against hers, the taste of him, the way his hand stroked down her spine to come to rest possessively at the small of her back, the smell of the salt in the air; everything was almost too much to take at once.

Her hand suddenly fisted in his sleeve, and she dropped her barrier. He deepened the kiss in response, forgetting that he'd just wanted a taste, needing to know her as completely as possible. He could feel her response all around him, both through her mind and through her kiss, and it nearly brought him to his knees. He held her tighter, kissing her fiercely, stealing her breath and any semblance of control until all she could think, could feel, was him.

He finally released her slowly, both breathing rather unsteadily. His eyes still glittered with that same unnamed passion, while hers were wide, sparkling, and satisfied.

He could still feel her trying to gather her scattered thoughts, and tried not to puff with too much pride. His mouth crooked in a devilishly seductive grin, and he touched his thumb to her lower lip, causing her to lose what mental ground she'd gained all over again.

"Now, Red. Talk."