He hauled Jack out of the hammock with a thunderous laugh, clasping an arm about the boy so that the wig curls danced on his nose and made him sneeze. They threw on their pirate clothes and off they went, Hook hand in hand with Jack and Smee trailing. Down the gangplank and onto the wharf, down the wharf and through the tunnel, out of the tunnel and onto the pier, along the pier and through the pirate town and crowds of anxiously fawning pirates until at last Hook turned them into a cavernous, dark old hulk that seemed entirely deserted of traffic. As they entered they passed from the clamor of a circus midway into a churchlike silence.

But this was no church. It was a monstrous room filled with clocks of all sizes and shapes. Some were old and some new. Some were large and some small. Some were stately grandfathers and some upstart alarms. Some were for the wrist and some for the pocket. They were made of wood with gold and silver inlaid and of plastic and metal with bright patterns. Some bore the faces of sun and moon, others of mice and men. They hung from the walls and they lay on tables. They stood alone like sentries and they crouched on metal bands like insects. They were everywhere you looked, hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. Jack stared about in wonder at the incredible array.

Then all at once he realized that something was wrong. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

None of the clocks worked.

Hook lifted his arm and swept the room possessively. "My own, personal, wonderful museum. Jack! Isn't it grand! A bounty of broken clocks! Once, each tick-talked, and now-no more. Now all is well. Listen, lad."

Jack looked about doubtfully. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly! That's just the point!" Hook was euphoric. He charged across the room to a particularly garish old clock with a mix of emeralds and fishes carved into its wood surface. "This was Barbecue's very own bedside clock. Quite the terror of the seven seas was Barbecue. Almost as feared as myself!" Hook's grin was enormous. "I smashed his clock right after I keelhauled him!"

Aside, to Smee, he added, "But a very polite man, Barbecue, right to the very end."

Smee grinned back. "Aye, Cap'n. A right salty old scag for a devil's cut! And his ship made such a pretty bonfire against the water's blue."

The two erupted in laughter, hanging on each other for support. Jack, recovered now from his earlier fright, found himself intrigued anew by this latest wonder. He picked up Barbecue's clock to examine it. As he did so the broken hands clicked suddenly, sharply against each other.

Hook sprang back instantly, disengaging himself from Smee, whirling about wildly, the terror returned to his eyes. "What's that? Smee, what do I hear? No! A ticking! A ticking, Smee!"

Smee had hold of him instantly. "Cap'n, no, there's no ticking here, nothing left to tick, by my bones, all's plainly pulverized…"

But Hook was having none of it. He snatched Barbecue's clock from Jack's hands and smashed it anew. He pounded it with his claw and threw it on the floor. Jack stared in amazement, mouth open.

"Very well!" declared Hook, stepping back, tricorne and wig askew. Primly he straightened them. "This is for the ticking that might have been!" He began jumping up and down on the broken pieces. "And this is for dinner being late last night!"

He stopped suddenly and glanced over at Jack, a sly glint coming into his cold eyes. "Care to join me, my boy?" he asked, and casually tossed Jack his pocket watch. "Go on. You know what to do."

Jack stared at him for a moment, and the fire in Hook's eyes seemed to transfer to his own. He held the watch up, regarded it somberly for just a moment, then dashed it to the floor.

"This is 'cause I always have to be home for dinner!" he cried exuberantly, joining in the game. ' 'If I'm hungry or not!"

Hook laughed merrily and tossed the boy another clock. Jack threw it to the floor and jumped on its face. Hook tossed him another and another. Jack threw them all down, smashing each one anew.

"Come on, Jack!" Hook encouraged. "That's the lad! Now break a window! Break a window!"

Hook snatched up a clock and hurled it at the closest window, shattering the glass. Without thinking, Jack followed suit, smashing another. Together they threw clocks at windows, at other clocks, and at anything else they could find, reveling in the sound of breaking glass and collapsing works. Smee leaped up and down behind them, urging them on gleefully.

"This is for brushing my teeth!" raged Jack, his hair and eyes wild, his face sweating. "And for combing my hair! And washing my hands! And making less noise! And not talking so much! And for being told to grow up!"

"And for having a fat, old Pan for a Daddy!" howled Hook, hauling down a whole armful of clocks and scattering them every which way.

"Who wouldn't save us!" Jack cried in sudden despair. "Who wouldn't save us!"

"Who wouldn't even try!" hissed Hook, almost in his ear.

Jack dropped to his knees in tears amid the wreckage of the clocks, crying bitterly. "He wouldn't save us. He wouldn't even try. Daddy didn't even… try."

He was sobbing so hard he couldn't speak. Hook glanced at Smee, and they shared a conspiratorial wink and grin. Then quickly Hook knelt at Jack's side, his arm resting comfortingly about the boy's shoulder.

"Oh, well, Jack," he said, his voice smooth as syrup. "He may yet try, you know. He will, in fact, I think, try." He waited for the tear-streaked face to lift and the damp eyes to meet his own. He wore a mask of sad understanding for the boy. "The question is, lad, when that time comes, do you want to be saved? Do you want to go back to… more disappointment? Do you want to go back with… him?"

Hook shook his head quickly. "No, don't answer now. No, no, no. Now's the time for other things. Now's the time for being whatever you want, be it pirate or…"

A twinkle came into his dark eye. Jack hesitated. "Or what?" he asked curiously.

Hook's smile was dazzling. One arm came out from where it had been hidden behind his back. Wedged in the crook of his claw was Jack's baseball.

He held it out to the boy. Jack's eyes went wide, and he reached eagerly to accept it.

"So tell me, Jack," Hook asked softly. "Have I ever made a promise I haven't kept?"

The click of Hook's teeth was like the closing of a trap.

Hook Throws a Curve

While the nefarious Hook was coming to grips, so to speak, with the ghosts of his past, Peter Banning was in the process of confronting some hard truths about his present. Foremost among these was the continuing and growing belief of the Lost Boys that he was-well, you know who-when he wasn't.

"En garde," hissed Rufio.

He stood toe to toe with Peter in a clearing at the base of the Nevertree, a wary look in his dark eyes. Both wielded swords with varying degrees of confidence. Rufio looked as if he had been bom clasping his. Peter looked as if he wasn't sure which end was pointed.

"Take it easy on me," he pleaded. He was already breathing heavily. "I'm just a beginner, remember."

"Yeah, sure," Rufio growled. "I saw de coconuts. I am watching you, ugly mon."

He went into a crouch, dark limbs crooking smoothly, black eyes intense, red feathery spikes like streaks of fire through his black hair. Peter tried to imitate him without success. This was a bad idea, he thought. This was a terrible idea. As usual, it was Tink's idea. It wasn't enough that he run and jump and be slung about; it was also necessary that he learn to sword-fight. Sword-fight, for heaven's sake! What did he know about sword fighting? He could barely manage to slice a roast at Sunday dinner!

Rufio circled to his left, feinting. Peter circled with him, not knowing what else to do. Rufio can teach you, Tink had insisted. Rufio's the best. He can show you all the tricks. He can help you remember.