In the valley of the fairies one last tiny ball of light wept, “Peter, why haven’t you come back? You’ve always come back before. No matter what,” her voice echoed over the friends and family all around her that had turned to cold and lonely stone.



Tinkerbell had always believed in Peter Pan. He was the endless youth and adventure of Neverland. It was his belief, his joy, his very nature as an eternal boy that preserved Neverland even in the face of so many children of the modern age who had never even begun to believe in fairies. Children who put aside all thoughts of pirates and far off lands, who cared more for facts, history and even the dread mathematics than they would ever care for stories of flying without wings. They brushed fairy dust off their desks and weighed themselves down with books. Children who had never learned to pretend, never tried to believe in the impossible - how could they ever grow into anything other than adults without hope? That was another problem entirely.



The problem here in Neverland and now - though to be sure there was little else of any time other than Now in Neverland. What is a past or future to an eternal land? - the problem now was that the boy who would never grow up had vanished. Swept away by some great evil? Blown away by some tragic storm?



Tinkerbell brushed the tears from her eyes, “I don’t know where you are Peter, but I will find you… And When I do,” she spread her tiny gossamer wings and lifted into the air, “When I do find you, if you’re not in horrible danger before I get there, you will be when I get to you!”



She sped off across the island and looked down at the once vibrantly colored landscape. In the weeks since Peter had vanished the color had slowly faded from Neverland. First in patches of grass and tiny insects, but slowly larger patches of land, trees, animals, and fairies all became grey, still, and hard as stone. No magic spell, or potion, or unction seemed powerful enough to lift whatever curse had fallen over the land. Tink had tried to tell the elder fairies that she was sure it was because Peter Pan was gone, but either the didn’t believe her or didn’t want to believe her. In the end they had all fallen to the steady march of the grey curse.



As she looked down on the island of Neverland, straining her eyes to see any last spark of color, any hint that she might still find allies in her quest to rescue Peter Pan, eventually her eyes came to rest on the largest piece of color in Neverland - to be more precise anchored just a small way out from Neverland. The dingy and fading red stain and paint that decorated one of the ugliest and dreariest places in Neverland, now shone like a bright beacon as it bobbed in the harbor



Far below in a ship, the only ship in Neverland, sat an old and worn man polishing the wicked hook where his left hand should have been while the last of his crew, ever loyal Smee, busied himself with cleaning the quarters. Near him sat a well kept black wig, made of the finest horse hair so many years ago that he could not quite remember the name of the merchant whose head he had pulled it off during a raid. It was long before Neverland and he had been in Neverland more years than any man could count let alone should live.



“What has happened to me, Smee?” Hook asked distantly, “This is not the life I was looking for when I set sail. This is not the end I wanted.”



“Heh? It’s a fine end though, innit Cap'n?” Smee asked with forced cheer, “You’ve killed that nasty croc what got your hand - and - and Pan is, well, um, gone.”



“Yes,” the old pirate replied, “Pan is gone. But where? Is he dead Smee?”



“Well, Cap'n,” Smee said thoughtfully as he looked out the cabin porthole, “Seems to me Neverland wouldn’t be in this state if he was alive.”



Hook followed Smee’s gaze out the window and stared at the nearly colorless landscape of the harbor, “No I don’t suppose it would. I always thought that fairy was lying when she said Pan was breath and life of Neverland, but Pan is gone, and it looks like Neverland will follow soon enough- probably us as well.”



“We could set sail,” Smee suggested as he had a few times before.



“To where, Smee? To what end?” the Captain asked harshly as he lowered his head into his one good hand, “You may leave, if you like, Smee. You needn’t stay. Take what supplies you will. The dinghies are gone I believe, but build a raft from the deck if you need-”



“Pardon my interruption, Cap'n” Smee interjected, “but I’m not like the rest o’ that lot.” he said with disdain for his former fellow crew mates heavy in his voice, “Where you go I go and where you stay I STAY.”



“You’re a good man, Smee,” Hook replied, “a good man - but also a fool.”



“Your man. Your fool. Cap'n Hook.” Smee replied and gave a salute standing at attention with his big belly jutting out in front of him.



“Quite right,” Hook said with a dry chuckle, “Now, go and fetch the Captain’s dinner and the good rum.”



“Yes sir,” Smee said as he started to head to the galley.



“Oh and Smee,” Hook called after him, “Bring two snifters for the rum.”



“Sir?” Smee looked puzzled, “are you expecting company?”



“I expect your company,” Hook said with a smile that pulled just the left corner of his lips, “We’ll get bloody drunk tonight, Smee, bloody DRUNK. And maybe, just maybe we’ll set this old wash tun to sailing and see where we land!” he said as he rapped the wall with his fist.



“YES SIR,” Smee shouted cheerfully as he ducked out the door.



“Yes,” Hook muttered to himself after Smee had left, “Yes, we’ll get bloody drunk… what else is there to do?”



Hook plopped down into his arm chair and put his black wig back onto his balding and grey head, “Might as well look my best for our final voyage out to sea,” he said stoically as he looked in his ornate mirror and adjusted his lapels.



“Ready to die already, Codfish?” he heard a high pitched voice ask and spun around half hoping to see his old enemy, but after a moment, just as he had almost convinced himself he had imagined the voice, he spotted a tiny glowing figure standing on his dining table.



“What do you want?” Hook asked, “Is there not enough to keep you fairy vermin occupied without your precious Peter Pan around? Do you think it fun or wise to come picking fun at Pirates?”



Tinkerbell put her tiny hands on her slender hips and looked sternly at Captain Hook, “Haven’t you seen what’s happening to Neverland?”



“I may be lacking a hand, but I have both eyes, Fairy,” Hook replied venomously, “but what does that have to do with you being in my quarters?”



“Everyone else…” Tinkerbell felt her throat try to close itself as she struggled with the words, “Everyone else in Neverland is… stopped. You, me, and your ship - we’re all that’s left.”



“Then it is a good thing I’m leaving,” Hook said coldly, “what use is a dead island to a Pirate? Again though, I fail to see how this brings you to my quarters. Are you lonely? I have no time to socialize with fairies.”



“Yes,” TInkerbell said sarcastically, “I can see you have so many more important things to do. Like feeling sorry for yourself and planning to get you and your last crewman killed by sailing off into a storm or some other danger.”



“You DARE imply that the Great Captain Hook would plot his own demise!” Hook shouted indignantly, “If I had a toothpick I’d run you through!”



“Try it and see where that toothpick ends up, Codfish,” Tink retorted before stopping herself and calming down, “Hook, we need to work together.”



“Work together?” Hook asked. He couldn’t quite work out what the fairy was after, but at least this conversation had been more interesting than the dead silence of the last week.



“Yes,” Tinkerbell said as she flew close to Hook and hovered inches from his face to stare deep into his surprisingly soft brown eyes, “We need to find Peter Pan.”



Hook burst out into laughter so powerful that it sent Tinkerbell flipping backwards across the room to land in a completely upside down and awkward position on a throw pillow, “You, you mean to tell me- Me- Captain James T Hook, that you you want my HELP in finding Peter Pan? Have you lost your senses?”



Tinkerbell righted herself as she waited for the Captain’s laughter to subside, “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” she said with a sharp nod of her head to emphasize her point.



“I want to kill Peter Pan, you know that,” Hook said solemnly, “Why would I help find him?”



Tinkerbell thought for a moment and then fluttered close to Hooks eyes again, “You want to kill Peter Pan.”



“Yes, I want,” Hook’s mind was slowly grabbing hold of a thought, “I want… I want to kill Peter Pan!”



“And if he never returns to Neverland-” Tinkerbell said as she tried to lead Hook’s thoughts.



“Then I will never get my chance for revenge on the boy!” Hook said with rage.



“Precisely,” Tinkerbell replied curtly.



Hook sat back in his chair and thought for a long moment, alternating between looking at the hook on his arm and the fairy fluttering in front of him. At last he said, “Very well, I will help you find Peter Pan.”



“On one condition,” Tinkerbell said, “You must promise that you will not try to get your revenge until he has returned to Neverland. Do I have your word?”



“My word as a gentleman,” Hook replied.



“That’s no good and we both know it,” Tink cut in.



Hook laughed, “Very well, my word as a Pirate, a Captain– My word on the very stem and stern of my ship!”



“That’ll do,” Tink agreed and held out her tiny hand as if to shake on the deal. After a moment Hook extended his pinkie and shook hands as best he could with such a tiny creature.

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