Wendy thought she was dreaming.

She had been in her room, reading a book. She still loved stories, the way the words created a sweep of images, made characters come to life, so real that by the end of the story you felt as if you had actually met them. That was what Peter had been, a story. Hook too, though now Wendy knew better.

Her door had opened, and she looked up, expecting to see her mother standing there, her hair just so, as always. He had been there instead, larger than life, just as she remembered him.

"Hello Wendy-bird," he said, his eyes flashing beneath the brim of his hat. Wendy had gasped. She had seen him beaten down by Peter, pushed over the edge and swallowed by the crocodile, and yet here he stood, his black curls glossy in the light, his red velvet coat immaculate, with not a trace of a toothmark to be found.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, smiling as he twirled the end of his mustache with his good hand, lifting his hook just enough for the light to catch it.

"You're dead," was all she could manage. Hook laughed, a sound Wendy remembered in her dreams.

"And yet here I stand," he said, and gave a little bow. "And now you're coming with me, my dear girl. You can thank your darling Peter for the opportunity."

She hadn't struggled, hadn't screamed, even though Hook was more than outnumbered by her family. She had seen what he could do with that cold chunk of metal at the end of his arm, had seen him disembowel a man simply for answering a question wrong. Here, in this world, people didn't come back the way they did in Neverland. A hook to the belly meant the everlasting sleep.

Hook tossed a sheet of heavy cream-colored paper on the bed, and Wendy could see that it was a message, the swirls of his hand spelling out her fate. She took her book, for she had no idea how long she would be in the Neverland this time, and Hook's men loved a good story. Making barely a sound, she followed him down the stairs and out the front door, to where Smee had been waiting with a horse and buggy. The little man gave Wendy a funny little wave when he saw her, having always been fond of the girl.

"I'm sorry to have to do this," Hook said, and as Wendy turned to ask him why, the world went black.

She woke hours later, already back on the Jolly Roger. She had no idea how they had gotten there, but then she supposed that was the reason Hook had knocked her out. Her head ached where he had hit her, but his blow had been well-aimed. Years of practice had given him a steady hand.

At least Hook had the decency to lodge her in his cabin, as opposed to down in the hold of the ship with any of the other rabble. His cabin was warm and well-maintained, just as you would suspect from looking at the man. It was true, he had something of a penchant for red velvet, but it went well with the dark wood paneling.

Wendy raised herself up on her elbow and looked around the cabin. Things had changed a bit since she had last been here. Namely, Hook had installed bookshelves along one wall of the room, and they were filled with books of all shapes and sizes.

Unable to resist, she climbed from the bed and knelt on the floor next to them, running her hands over the spines. There were dozens she had never seen nor heard of, tales of piracy and fantasy, fairyland and mermaids, almost as of Neverland itself. She took one at random and opened it across her lap, taking in the words and the beautiful illustrations as if they were nourishment.

"I see you've found my treasure trove," Hook said from behind her. She hadn't even heard him come in.

"They're beautiful," she said, caressing the pages. "Where did you get them?"

Hook smiled. "I have my ways and means, Wendy-bird. You of all people should know that." There was a tenderness in his voice she had heretofore never known.

She brushed that thought and the image of his smile away. "Why am I here, Hook? What is it that you want with Peter that includes me?"

"As much as it pains me to say it, my dear girl, I am lost without your Pan. The Neverland is lost without him. There is no center to anchor it, nothing which will hold us fast." He began twirling his mustache again. "It is hard to remember a time now before him…in fact, it makes me wonder if we didn't somehow spring into being upon his arrival here."

"You cannot have him back," Wendy said defiantly. "He is where he belongs now, with my family. With me."

Hook laughed. "Oh my dear girl, you have no idea, do you?" He began walking about the cabin, rubbing his hand and his hook together with barely-suppressed glee. "He was going to leave you. He was going to forget everything of his life there and come back. He misses the Neverland, misses it more than he could ever love you."

Wendy's heart jolted at this cruel blow, her greatest fears given life at the word of this most hated and vile man. "If that were true, why did you have to take me? If he were coming back, there would be no reason for me to be here."

Hook stopped pacing and gently rested his hook on Wendy's shoulder, a touch that sent a shiver though her. "Oh my dear, dear Wendy-bird, how easily you trust. True, Pan wouldn't come with me today, but he wanted to. I could sense it within him. It was guilt that kept him there. Guilt, not love." He brushed her hair away from her face.

"No mere girl could ever compare with the wonders of this place. A kiss compared to a swordfight, to a mermaid lagoon? And your wedding day, should you drag the poor boy that far? Nothing compared to the joy of flying, of soaring on the back of the wind with nothing between yourself and the ground but an expanse of sky." He smiled, but it was cruel. "Face it, my girl. He will be back. And this time, nothing will drag him away, especially the charms of a girl whose only gift is telling stories."

"You seem to have grown quite fond of stories, Captain," Wendy said, allowing a bit of a sneer to enter her voice. "Your cabin is quite full of them."

Hook pressed down on her shoulder with his namesake, and it took all Wendy had not to cry out in pain from the pressure on the bone. "I wouldn't presume too much if I were you, girl. You realize, once I have the Pan, I no longer have need of you, especially now that I can tell tales of my own, thanks to these."

The man removed the hook and walked toward the door, his red velvet coat swishing as he moved. "He'll be here soon, Wendy-bird. If you want to stay alive beyond his arrival, I suggest you remember yourself."

Wendy let the book fall to the floor as she rubbed her aching shoulder, a hint of tears in her eyes. She didn't want to give Hook the satisfaction of crying, so she recited the names of all of her family members to take her mind away from the pain.

Hook hadn't been lying, at least about Peter missing the Neverland. She knew now what Peter had been so excited about the other day, how he had once again found his crow. The letter he'd been holding, it was from Hook, inviting him to return. Wendy knew Peter would never fully be rid of the place, the terrible, wonderful place, but she had hoped that he had been happy with her.

Now she just didn't know, and not knowing was worse than Peter telling her a hundred times over that he wished to leave.

Out on the deck, under the stars, Hook took in a deep lungful of air. Pan was coming, he could smell it on the wind. Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh with the girl, but it was better that she know sooner than later. Pan was coming back to Neverland, and this time, Hook intended him to stay.