Jack zipped through the trees, looking for Peter. The boy was hard to find already, but when he was actively trying to stay away from Jack, it made things that much harder. The winter sprite sighed, settling down to stand on a boulder in the middle of the forest. He'd covered most of the island, but at this rate, he was never going to find the other boy.

"If you want to leave so badly, then GO!"

He winced as the words floated back to him. The more time he spent mulling over their argument, the more painful the words got. The best thing to do would be to find Peter as quickly as possible, before the blond really did think he had left.

He nodded to himself, letting the wind carry him up and up and up, until the entire island was before him. He should be able to see Peter somewhere in the brush, and if he didn't, it just meant he'd narrowed down the area.

The forest was quiet, for the most part. The mountains were bare of any humanoid figures, though he could see the wayward Neverbeast traipsing about the rocky terrain. The beach was—Jack's eyes narrowed. There was a ship there, on the beach not far from Cannibal's cove.

He flew down a little closer, eyes sweeping the area around the ship in an ever-increasing circle. His breath hitched at the sight of the brush, pushed back and rustling in response to creatures fleeing the intruder in their midst.

Jack recognized the wild countenance of one James Hook, grinning gleefully as he ran by, a rather heavy-looking bag slung over his shoulder. He was heading towards the ship.

Despite their admittedly somewhat peaceful conversation, Jack didn't entirely trust Hook. Something about the man rubbed him the wrong way.

He kept his distance, staying just above the trees so any onlookers couldn't spot him so easily. Hook apparently did not care for stealth at all, leaping through the undergrowth, snapping branches and unearthing stones.

He was making a beeline for the ship, and Jack watched as he emerged from the brush, the crew on the Jolly Roger erupting into a cheer at the sight of their Captain for the first time in what must have been at least a decade.

Jack perched in a tree just on the edge of the beach, crouching low to hide amidst the leaves. He was too far away to hear what they were saying, other than the unanimous cheering of the crew.

Hook swaggered up the walkway onto the deck of the ship—the side emblazoned with the name Jolly Roger—dumping the bag on the wood. Its contents moved, and Jack felt the blood drain from his face. He suddenly had a terrible feeling.

With lips forming words Jack couldn't hear, he reached in the bag, pulling out the contents triumphantly.

He was holding a fistful of strawberry-blond hair as the owner of that hair was dragged to his knees. Peter groaned, blood dripping down the side of his face. Jack's knuckles went white, his staff whining in protest under his grip.

The crew grabbed a hold of him, tying him to an anchor and throwing him to the deck, the boy's eyes fluttering. His blood dripped onto the wood of the ship. Jack saw red.

He let out a roar, launching himself out of the trees, the wind whipping up with his fury. The pirates whirled around, staring up at him with wide eyes, fear showing itself from behind the mask of shock. Jack threw a shot of ice at them, swinging his staff recklessly. He couldn't think straight, couldn't see straight. All that mattered was Hook, and Peter, and the blood that dripped onto the deck.

Jack let out another wave, freezing the ocean and letting the ship tilt dangerously close to its side. He swung his staff again, this time using it as momentum to launch him towards Hook. The wind knew his fury, and threw him at the man with a cold blast.

Hook let out a battle cry, pulling his rapier from its sheath in a mustached man's shaky grasp. Jack brought his staff down, aiming for the man's head. Hook met the wood with steel.

They pushed against each other, Jack propelled by the wind, Hook with his own experienced strength. Jack growled at him, eyes feral, and Hook grinned. He had a glass heart.

"He doesn't care about you, Jack. He doesn't care about any of us. As soon as you leave, he'll forget about you, just as he has all the rest. He's heartless." He whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. Hook knew the crew wouldn't interfere. "You've seen it, haven't you? No matter how you may try to deny it. All that matters to him is to be a boy and have fun. You're just his latest toy to be thrown away when he's had enough of you."

Jack paused, his staff lowering from its threatening position in Hook's face. Hook grinned and decided it was time to break that glass heart.

"You think he cares about you? You think he loves you? Peter Pan lives to fly and to fight and to have fun. He cannot and will not ever love you." Jack Frost's blue eyes were wide, and Hook gave him a pitying look. "Don't blame him, boy. He has never known love. He loved his Wendy Darling, and do you know what he did? He threw her away. Because loving someone means you have to grow up, and Peter Pan will never, ever grow up."

Jack leapt back, back into the air. "I— I don't care about that! I won't let you hurt him!" The winter spirit cried out, landing on the ship's edge and pointing his staff at Hook. His voice wavered. His hands shook. James Hook grinned.

Jack was not prepared for the sword swinging his way, the tip catching his collarbone as he bent backwards before all hell broke loose.

"Shoot him! Shoot him, you ingrates!" Hook screamed, and Jack surged up as cannonballs soared through the air around him. The wind pulled him along, swooping and soaring and sending his body twisting in odd directions to avoid what would undoubtedly be one shot too many. A few of the chunks of metal came too close for comfort, and Jack froze them, sending them tumbling into the ocean.

Peter was still lying there, unconscious and unguarded, and Jack knew he had to get to him. He dodged another attack and shot downwards using the gravity in his favor as he propelled himself down and down and down towards Peter. He was close—he dodged a cannonball—continuing ever closer.

Jack reached out the hand that wasn't holding his staff, so close to the ship—

The weight of crushing pain and shattering bones exploded in his side and Jack hit the water.

I'm sooo close but for some reason it's so hard to finish this… Lately I've been writing a Naruto-Bleach crossover, but I probably won't post it until at least this one is finished. So yeah. Happy holidays you lot! :D Or as I've been hearing lately, Merry Chrismakah! (Is that how it was spelled? I dunno.)

Oh, and naturally I'm going to leave you with this cliffhanger. Cause I'm nice. ;)