But the burninghurt.
None of this was real.
But the pain…very much was.
There was a splash. Something dark was overhead.
The world began to grow dark.
The burning hurt too much.
She let the water in.
Sasha jerked into consciousness. “Fuck—”
She was sitting on a dinghy that was being rowed ashore. One minute, they’d been sitting in Hook’s quarters, and the next she was sitting in a boat being rowed by two other pirates, with Hook sitting at the head facing backwards, and her in the middle.
“What theactualfuck—” She swiveled around, staring at the world around her. Captain Hook’s ship was some miles behind them.It was early evening, but it’d been mid-afternoon when they’d been talking. They’d been rowing for some time.
Had she been sleepwalking? Had she been drugged? How the hell did she get on the boat? “How did we get here?”
“You’re adorable when you’re confused.” Hook leaned an elbow on the railing of the boat. “I’m going to also point out that I will not be this forthcoming in future works.” He waved his real hand aimlessly in the air. “So you can get your bearings before we take the next one on for real. I will not entertain this constant fourth-wall breaking in the future.”?*
Taking off her glasses, she ran a hand over her face before replacing them. “Tutorial level. Got it.”
“Precisely.”
“Another scene change?”
“You’ll adjust in time.”
Sighing, she shut her eyes. “So I’m just going to have random-ass blackouts where I won’t remember things?”
“You’ll remember things if it’s important that you do. But if those events aren’t referenced, then, no.” He examined one of the faded, sepia-stained lace cuffs that dangled from his coat sleeve. “Welcome to the life of being a fictional character. It’s quite depressing at times—entire parts of your life simply redacted because it wasn’t deemed critical to the plot.”
“I’m starting to gather that.” Watching the island’s approach, she let out a breath. “Are there other things like you? Sentient tropes or whatever?”
“I would prefer to call us ‘gods of fiction,’ but could we at least settle for archetypes? Meet in the middle?” With a roll of his eyes, he muttered,“Sentient tropes.Makes us sound like an over-programmed toaster.”
“Fine. Archetypes.” She chuckled. “Are there any others? Like, y’know, the ‘old mentor’ or the ‘heroine’ or whatever?”
“I’m sure there are.”
“Why don’t you go play with them?”
“We’ve never met.” Hook shrugged, glancing over his shoulder to see how close they were. The shore was approaching. Probably another minute or two at the longest. “It’s a very big world of fiction, after all.”
“Seriously?”
Picking at a splinter of wood on the railing of the dinghy, he flicked it into the water. “The only reason I expect my brother and I are acquainted at all is due to our relationship, as one literally cannot exist without the other. Though that is just a theory. I have no idea. It’s not like we were given a set of rules when we suddenly discovered we were aware of ourselves.”
That made sense, she guessed. What an odd existence he lived. No wonder he was a bit of a psychopath—he was literallyallthe psychopaths rolled into one, and he didn’t exactly have a normal way of expressing himself.
When they approached the shore, one of the two pirates who had been rowing jumped into the water to pull it onto the sand. Far be it from Captain Hook to get his boots more wet than he needed to.
“What’s our goal here, uh, Captain?” Sasha cringed. God, she sounded so stupid.
“Kill Peter Pan. Kidnap Wendy and bring her back to the ship as a prize for the crew.” Studying the point of his hook for a moment, he grinned. “And if she resists? Gut her like a fish.”
