Philomena Pan, Daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, had grown up hearing tales of her mother and father's great adventures.
However, the girl was most accustomed to the story of her fathers fight against his archenemy Captain Hook, the pirate c...
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chapter 43 ~ My love mine all mine
They decide to stay another night and go home the next day. James Hook doesn't mind, Phina suspects he's secretly happy to be able to spend some time with his son. They go fishing on a quaint hidden beach amongst big rocks and caves. Harry tells her his father used to bring him and his sisters there as a treat from time to time during their childhood. She appreciates the experience a little more after that.
On the way back they run into the little girls that had braided her hair the last time she visited the isle. They are all smiles and hugs when they see her and she lets them do her hair again as they prattle on with questions and stories.
Later Harry, his father and Phina share a drink by the fireplace, James leans back in his chair, a half-full tankard of rum in his hand, his hook resting on the armrest. His dark eyes, sharp despite the years etched into his face, flicking between Harry and Phina as they sit on the worn, threadbare couch across from him.
Harry leans back, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his own tankard dangling from his fingers. Phina never far away, sits close beside him, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the fire—or maybe from the rum she'd been sipping.
Phina doesn't much like the taste of rum, she thinks, but she drinks it anyway and gets used to the burn in her throat. She feels warm and giddy by the time Harry's father goes to bed.
She watches the fire crackle in the hearth as she thinks about the surprisingly pleasant evening she had just experienced, with James recounting tales of his adventures at sea, his voice gruff but laced with a certain nostalgia that softened the edges of his usual demeanor. Phina had listened intently, genuinely intrigued by the old pirate's stories, while Harry had chimed in with his own embellished versions, earning a few gruff laughs from his father.
As the night wore on, the conversation slowed, the fire burned lower, and the tankards were refilled more than once. And then James was the first to notice the hour, setting his empty tankard down on the table with a thud.
"Well, that's enough for me tonight," he had said, his voice rough but not unkind. He pushed himself up from the chair, his hook scraping against the wood as he did. He cast a glance at Harry, then at Phina, a knowing look in his eyes. "Don't stay up too late, you two."
Phina smiled politely, nodding her head. "Goodnight, James," she said, her voice respectful but warm. She had grown more comfortable around him, despite his intimidating presence.
Harry had smirked, raising his tankard in a mock salute. "'Night, old man," he drawled, his voice slightly slurred.
Captain Hook had given him a pointed look, but there was a hint of affection behind it. And with one last glance at Phina, he nodded and made his way to his quarters, the door closing behind him with a solid thud that left Harry and Phina alone in the quiet room.
