"Peter!"

Peter refused to look. He took Maggie in his arms and, with Jack and the Lost Boys crowding close, started to walk away.

"Peter!"

Hook was shrieking at him now, incensed beyond reason. He charged toward the quarterdeck stairs. "Peter, come back and fight me! You hear me. Where are you going? I haven't finished with you, Peter Pan! Is this the best you can offer? I am shocked and dismayed! Bad form!"

Maggie glanced back over Peter's shoulder. "You need a mommy very, very badly!" she yelled back at Hook.

The captain reached the quarterdeck stairs just as Smee emerged from his cabin, pants stuffed with Hook's treasure, a bulging bag slung over one shoulder. He was slinking toward the ship's lifeboat when Hook spotted him.

"Smee!" he howled.

Smee froze, eyes squinched shut.

"Stairs!" Hook bellowed.

Smee's eyes popped open again, a hint of relief showing in his crinkled features. He stamped the decking and the quarterdeck stairs flipped from bare wood to red carpeting. Hook started down without a word.

Smee tried a reassuring smile. "I was just… moving yer personals, Cap'n. Out of harm's way and all…"

Hook went past him as if he wasn't there, headed for the gangway. "You can't escape me, Peter!" he howled. His face was as scarlet as his coat. "I'll always be your worst nightmare come true! You'll never be rid of me! I vow to you, everywhere you look there will be daggers with notes bearing JAS. Hook! I'll hang them on the doors of your children's children's children's bedrooms for all eternity!" He kicked at the decking. "Do you hear me?"

Peter stopped then, turned, set Maggie down beside him, and walked back to the gangway. He stood looking up at the enraged Hook.

"What do you want, James Hook?" he asked softly.

Hook's face twisted. "I want you, Peter."

Peter recognized the truth then. Revenge against Peter Pan was all that mattered to Captain Hook. He was for the captain an obsession that would not pass until one or the other of them was dead. Hook meant what he said. There would be no peace for Peter or his family until this business was finished once and for all. Peter sighed. "You got me, old man."

On the main deck, Hook had discarded his captain's coat and ripped open his sash. He held his sword balanced and ready in his good hand. His claw gleamed wickedly.

Ace and Don't Ask started forward, their own weapons drawn, but Peter motioned them back.

"Put up your swords, boys," he ordered, and his eyes were grim. "It's Hook or me, this time."

^{Crocodile Clock}

James Hook strode down the gangway of the Jolly Roger, sword in hand, his eyes bright and anxious. He grinned wolfishly. "Prepare to die, Peter Pan. It's the only adventure you have left."

They rushed each other and met in a clash of steel. At first Hook had the upper hand, driving Peter back across the wharf as Jack and Maggie and the Lost Boys scattered before them. Then Peter regained control, growing stronger with each exchange. Hook reversed field, drawing Peter after him into the tunnel.

"I remember you being a lot bigger," Peter offered, parrying a wicked slash to his head.

Hook grunted. "To a ten-year-old, I'm huge."

Peter grinned. "Good form, James."

"Don't patronize me, Peter."

They fought their way through the tunnel's darkness and out the other side. Pirates and Lost Boys ran to get out of their way, then followed in their wake like flood waters churning down a dry riverbed. They battled toward a pub entrance, where Peter snatched a tablecloth off a clothesline and taunted Hook as a matador might an enraged bull-

To one side, Jack discarded his Hook vest. Hook sneered.

"Rippingly good comeback, Peter," he offered between thrusts at the tablecloth. "Three days! Imagine. Share your secret with old Hook? Diet? Exercise? A woman? The right woman can do wonders for a man, restore his youth in moments."

They surged back and forth for a minute in front of the pub. Then the tablecloth seemed to fly up and when it came down again Peter was gone.

Hook stared about in bewilderment. Then he stalked into the pub. Onlookers crowded up to the windows and doors and peered inside.

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?