Peter was leaning on the bar, calmly quaffing a glass of ale. Hook hesitated, then stepped up to join him. As they drank, the captain experienced a rare moment of doubt.
Perhaps I was a bit hasty in issuing that last challenge, he thought.
His mouth tightened into a thin line. It wasn't that he was afraid of Peter Pan. Not he, not James Hook, the man who had been Blackbeard's bosun. It was just that he was befuddled by him. No matter how thorough or careful his plans, Pan always escaped him. How could anyone be so lucky? It was ridiculous. Time after time Hook trapped him, and each time he found a way to get free. It was really very tiring.
Hook sighed. And where was his trusty pirate crew? He couldn't count on a one, by Billy Bones's blood! Chaos had claimed them all. The rats sensed the ship sinking, so to speak, and were looking for a way off. Even Smee had deserted him. He tried to take comfort in the fact that at least he had his long-anticipated war. He tried to ignore the fact that he was losing it.
He took a swipe at Peter, who ducked away. Down the bar they battled, slash and parry, cut and thrust, pausing every so often to take a drink. When their glasses were empty at last, they set them on the counter and backed out once again into the street.
Down the length of Hook's pirate town they fought, twisting and turning from side to side, each seeking to gain an advantage. They reached the barber shop and Peter leaped over Hook and hung just out of reach in the air above him.
Hook glared up at his nemesis, breathing hard. "You've come to Neverland once too often, Peter."
Peter laughed. "Where have 1 heard that before?"
Hook stomped furiously. "Stop hovering! Come down where I can reach you!"
Peter landed in a crouch, the Pan sword extended. Hook surged to the attack once more. Toe-to-toe they battled, sword-to-sword, hissing and grunting with the effort of their struggle.
As they reached the blacksmith's Peter switched hands, tossing the Pan sword from right to left and back again, barely losing a beat as he blunted Hook's attacks.
"Confound you!" Hook raged.
And then suddenly Peter's guard slipped just enough and Hook was through, bulling ahead wildly, too close to strike, but possessed of enough momentum to twist Peter about and force him backward against the grindstone table. Hissing with satisfaction, Hook pinned Peter fast and began to force his head downward toward the spinning stone.
"You're so cocky, aren't you?" Hook sneered. His hook brushed the stone and sparks flew. "But, you know, you're not really Peter Pan. You know that, don't you? You're Peter Banning! Yes! Peter Banning, remember?"
A hint of doubt crept into Peter's eyes.
"You're Peter Banning," Hook went on hurriedly. "And this, Mr. Banning, is all a dream. It's not real. It's just your imagination. It has to be, mmm? Doesn't rational thought say it must? And aren't you a man of rational thought? It must be that you're simply asleep!"
Peter's face was inches from the grindstone.
"When you wake up," Hook continued with a sneer, "you will be fat, old Peter Banning, a cold, selfish man who runs and hides from his wife and children at every opportunity, who's obsessed with success and money! You have lied to everyone, haven't you? Yourself, especially. And now you would pretend to be Peter Pan? Shame on you!"
Peter's strength was fading rapidly now, his fighting power flown away with the last of his happy thoughts, the reality of who and what he had been recalled by Hook's words. Was he really any different now? Wasn't he just playing at being Peter Pan?
"You are a disgrace!" Hook taunted.
The Pan sword fell from Peter's hand. At the entrance to the shop, the Lost Boys stared at one another helplessly.
Then Jack leaped forward to crouch next to his father, just out of Hook's reach, his elfin face creased with sudden determination.
"I believe in you, Dad," he cried out. "You are the Pan."
"I believe in you, too, Daddy," Maggie repeated at his elbow.
And then the Lost Boys took up the refrain, speaking it with such conviction that it could not be ignored. Peter glanced past Hook and saw the belief mirrored in their eyes. Ace, Latchboy, Pockets, Thud Butt, Too Small, No Nap, Don't Ask, and all the others, saying it over and over again.
I believe in you! You are the Pan!
And suddenly he was again-for the strength of belief in their voices had transferred itself to him and become his own.
He surged back to his feet, throwing Hook off and tumbling him to the floor. Hook's sword fell from his hand and a look of shock twisted his angular face. As he tried to retrieve his fallen weapon, Peter snatched up the Pan sword and blocked his way.
Hook blanched and froze.
Peter hesitated, then reached down carefully for Hook's sword, flipped it about and offered it back, hilt first.
"Curse your eternal good form!" Hook screamed.
He attacked without a word. They fought their way out of the blacksmith's and through the soup kitchen, Hook gasping and panting with every step.
"Peter Pan," Hook huffed in genuine despair. "Who and what art thou?"
"I am youth! I am joy!" Peter cried and crowed wildly.
Moments later they surged into Pirate Square. Swords clashed one final time, and then Peter zipped away to land in front of the crocodile clock. Jack and Maggie and the Lost Boys appeared at their heels, quickly spreading out to ring the combatants. Hook whirled guardedly, staring from face to face.
And suddenly there was the sound of ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Hook cringed. Jack and Maggie and the Lost Boys had pulled out watches and clocks of varying sizes and shapes and kinds, all ticking and tocking and chiming and beeping. The sound became a cacophony, and Hook shrank from it in terror.
Peter moved to stand before him. "Hello! Is this the great Captain Hook?" He glanced over his shoulder at the crocodile tower. "Afraid of a dead, old croc?" His voice became a child's. "Tick-tock, tick-tock, Hook's afraid of the old, dead croc."
The Lost Boys were quick to pick up the rhyme. "Tick-tock, tick-tock, Hook's afraid of the old, dead croc!"
Hook wheeled in fury, teeth clenched. He rushed at Peter to engage him, but Peter parried the blow easily and skipped away.
"No, it's not the croc after all!" Peter shouted suddenly. Then his voice lowered. "I think James Hook is afraid of time, ticking away…"
This was too much for Hook, who threw himself on Peter with a howl of anguish.
The battle was joined anew, Hook and Peter crashing together, swords ringing. Hook thrust wickedly, but Peter was too quick. He turned the blow aside, twisting his own sword so deftly that the captain's was swept from his hand. A second twist, so swift the eye could barely follow it, and Hook's wig and hat were flicked from his head through the air to land atop an astonished Too Small. Weaponless and hairless, exhausted and broken, Hook fell to his knees.
The point of the Pan sword came up to rest against his throat.
Hook glanced aside to see his hat and wig resting atop Too Small's head. "Peter, my dignity, at least," he pleaded. "You took my hand. You owe me something."
Peter stepped over to Too Small, retrieved the hat and wig, tossed aside the hat, and handed the wig to Hook, who clutched it before him in his hands in the manner of a disobedient child.
Peter's sword came back up to Hook's throat. His voice was stem. "You killed Rufio. You kidnapped my children. You deserve to die, James Hook."
Hook swallowed, then lifted his chin defiantly. "Then strike, Peter Pan! Strike true!"
There was fire in Peter's eyes as he beheld his enemy helpless at last, and a fierce rush of exhilaration surged through him. All about, the crowd held its collective breath-Lost Boys and pirates alike.