A/N: Hiya! So, I just published chapter 6 and of course at the time I'm writing this I'm starting on this chapter: chapter 7. I hope you guys like the story so far. If you had read the story in its previous state, before I overhauled the first couple of chapters, I'd hope that you would have noticed an improvement over elements of the story this time around. I'm definitely prouder of the work that I've published thus far, and the story feels like it's forming more to the original vision that I had when I first attempted writing it.

Anyway, thanks again for choosing to read this story and enjoy chapter 7.

IMPORTANT NOTE: So, after doing some research, I realized that Tootles doesn't speak (it's been quite a while since I've watched the Disney film). In this story, Tootles will be able to speak. Also, I don't exactly know the geography of the area around Hangman's Tree (due to again, me not having watched the Disney film which this is primarily inspired from in a while and also it not being something hugely established in film as well), so most of it will probably be somewhat made up.

!

Margaret remained unmoving and stoic as she stared straight ahead from her place in the hideout. At this point she couldn't be bothered to keep track of time anymore; it was pointless. Her grandmother was probably already dead from worry, all because of that arrogant twat. Now that she thought about it, it disgusted Margaret that she had ever even been so interested in the story of Peter Pan. In Margaret's expert opinion Peter Pan was a level 100 bastard and the most perfect arsehole.

When Margaret had originally woken up, she found herself alone in the hideout, though upon some inspection it turned out that the Peter and company had dedicated a rather luxurious space to her in the hideout for her to rest, though that did little to sway Margaret's opinion of Peter.

Well, alright she knew she was being a tad bit unreasonable. Peter wasn't really a bad person as far as she could tell. He was actually quite patient with her, despite her difficult nature upon arriving in Neverland. But he needed to understand the importance of allowing her to go home to Nana. Didn't he love Wendy at one point or something? Shouldn't that make him more compelled to do something about letting her go home?

Margaret sighed as she found herself torn between a million different streams of thought, unable to focus on one particularly. Not that it should have been surprising. Ever since she woke up, she found herself uncomfortably scatterbrained. For a brief while she had thought that she'd officially become barmy, but after some more thought she just surmised it was the stress of the situation at hand.

Of course, the worst part about everything is that she was in a completely foreign environment. Sure, she'd been told stories since she was a little girl about Peter Pan and Neverland, but hearing about a place and being there are two completely different things. And everything was more awkward due to the way the Lost Boys acted around her. They all made a pointed effort to not make eye contact with her, and wouldn't speak to her, as if doing so would set off a ticking bomb. Margaret knew the impression she made upon arriving in Neverland was by far her worst, but it hurt her a little bit that everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around her.

A sound from outside the hideout interrupted her internal thoughts, causing her to tilt her head to catch a glimpse of the entrance. After a few seconds of shuffling, Peter Pan entered the room. Margaret immediately turned her head away from him, still very much so angry at him. He walked over to her, and kneeled down to sit at the same level as her, taking off his hat. One of the Lost Boys followed in soon after Peter came in, and chose to sit on the other side of the room from the two.

"Wen—Margaret…uh…the pirates are still thick around the island. They're a bit close by, so I won't be able to take you home just yet," Peter said, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck.

Margaret finally turned her head to look at him briefly before turning her attention to the Lost Boy at the other end of the room. "I do apologize that I do not know your name, Lost Boy, but would you do me the utmost honors of informing Peter Pan that I would be quite happy if he was caught by the pirates," she said, turning her head upon finishing at Peter. The Lost Boy looked at Margaret with wide eyes before looking over at Peter. Peter sighed deeply before standing up and putting back on his hat and lowering the front a little to shade more of his eyes. He then walked out of the hideout.

Margaret closed her eyes and sighed as tears managed to squeeze out of them again. She leaned her head against the tree behind her (since after all the hideout was in Hangman's Tree). Instead of leaving, the Lost Boy cautiously approached Margaret, before sitting down in front of her. Margaret couldn't find it in her heart to ask the boy to go away, so she studied him carefully as he looked at her with those frightened eyes.

Margaret recalled that this one in particular was the smallest of the bunch, adorning a small skunk outfit that appeared to be a type of onesie. Margaret recalled Wendy's mention of this one in particular, and as such remembered that his name was Tootles.

"Are you Tootles?" Margaret asked in a gentle voice. The boy jumped at the sudden question before reluctantly nodding. "You know, Nana—Wendy, she…she remembers you," she told him softly. Tootles beamed at the news. "I'm sorry for my rudeness upon coming here. I have my reasons for it, but I would only be excusing my poor behavior."

Tootles thought for a moment before speaking. "Well, I'm certain that if you care an awful lot about somebody, it's hard when you are away from them," he said to Margaret in deep thought. Margaret felt herself smile at the statement, realizing the maturity he had for someone who seemed so young.

"You're right. But all the same, the lot of you have only been patient and kind in hosting me here, and I've been a terrible guest. I do hope that everyone isn't too frightened of me."

Tootles quickly shook his head. "No, they're not frightened of you. Peter was the one who told them to be cautious around you," he explained to Margaret. Margaret pursed her lips and gave a single nod, inwardly rolling her eyes at Peter.

"Well, as much as I must question his logic, I cannot fault that my own behavior wouldn't dispute his most plausible reasoning."

Tootles stared at her blankly. "I couldn't understand what half of those words meant," he said in awe. Margaret chuckled lightly.

"Sorry, it's a habit of mine. Never mind me. I do wonder, however, where the rest of the Lost Boys are," Margaret said quietly, tapping her chin.

"Oh, I know! They're all on lookout right now. Since Hook disappeared, all of the pirates have been searching the island, so it's been hard to leave the hideout. And especially now, since Peter knows you want to go home, lookout has been our top priority."

Margaret blinked before blushing sheepishly. "Well, that's quite kind of him. I do hope that it hasn't been too much trouble for the lot of you?"

"No, not at all! Though, if we're honest we miss being able to fight with the pirates more frequently. But there's so many of them now…it's too dangerous," Tootles explained. Margaret nodded, trying to wear a warm expression on her face to comfort the edge of fear that Tootles appeared to feeling.

"Well, from what I've been told, the lot of you have always been able to pull through. I don't believe in my heart that this will be any different," Margaret told Tootles honestly. Tootles chewed on the thought for a moment before nodding. At that moment, Tinkerbell bolted into the room and flew over to Tootles, tugging on his onesie.

"Alright, alright, Tink! I get it!" He groaned, standing up. "I have to go back and do lookout, Margaret. I'll see you later!" At that, he rushed out of the entrance to Hangman's Tree, disappearing in the jungle. Margaret watched him leave, feeling a sadness and anxiousness settle into her stomach after he disappeared. So far, he was her only friend in Neverland. While Margaret was accustomed to being alone on her own accord, it did not befit her to be alone in such a foreign place. She had hoped that she would be able to converse with Tootles longer, but of course, that wasn't the case. It was remarkable to her how independent he was for being so young and small.

She sighed, taking a moment to look around the hideout. It was definitely a sight to see: clothes were strewn all over the floor with the majority of them having holes in them, beds were unmade, the turtle shells that Margaret assumed were used for dishes hadn't been cleaned for quite some time, and dirt was tracked throughout the hideout's entirety.

"This place is quite a dive," Margaret commented to herself. Seeing as she had nothing else to do, Margaret decided to clean up the hideout. She pulled out all of the clips that had been used for the hairstyle she wore for her costume, allowing her hair to cascade down her shoulders and back in waves. After a quick search, she managed to find a pouch in the hideout that no one appeared to be using, so she quickly wrapped it around her waist and stuffed the slips inside of there for when she returned home.

She first began with finding a cloth and scrubbing the interior to remove all of the stray dirt tracks that had accumulated over time before attending to the beds. Margaret was horrified to find that the sheets were dirty, so she stripped all of the beds and found a basket to place all of the sheets in. She gathered all of the clothes strewn on the floor and placed them in the same basket before she chose to venture outside with them. Upon stepping out of Hangman's Tree, Margaret carefully scanned the scenery for a nearby body of water. Luckily, adjacent to the tree was a small pond that looked suitable to do the cleaning in. She walked over to the pond and placed the basket down before she searched for some soap. A quick search inside the hideout proved fruitful, as she found three bars of soap in one of the cupboards. Then, she began cleaning.

Margaret scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed all of the clothing and sheets, separating the clothes and sheets that needed sewing from the others. After finishing she found two poles and a rope to hang the clothes from so they could dry. Since there weren't any clips available, Margaret used the hair clips she had saved from her hair to do the job. Upon finishing that, Margaret went back inside and grabbed all of the turtle shells and cleaned them in the pond before drying them with a spare cloth and putting the dishes away.

After putting the dishes away, Margaret realized that there were no signs of any silverware in the hideout. She allowed herself a quick sift, which all told confirmed her worries. "Bloody hell," she groaned to herself. "Have they been eating with their hands? I mean, yes it's common in some cultures, but…" Margaret shook her head. "Hm, if I had a knife and some sticks, I could try to make some. I don't have any experience but having a go at it couldn't hurt."

At that, Margaret searched close by Hangman's Tree and found a plethora of small twigs and sticks that she then took inside. She quickly found a small knife and some twine that she planned to use as a way of making some silverware for the boys. Margaret chose to sit outside for this endeavor, as she didn't want to get any shavings on the floor of hideout since she just cleaned it.

Margaret focused intensely on the job at hand, carefully carving out the twigs and sticks that she found. However, Margaret quickly found out that she had very little idea as to what she was doing, and soon after she gave up on the project. She hoped that one of the Lost Boys was good at carving so then she could ask them to teach her. Margaret realized that if she was going to be here awhile, it would probably be an important skill to have.

As she put away the supplies she had gathered to make the silverware, one of the Lost Boys suddenly jumped into the clearing. "HEEEEEYAH!" He shouted, assuming an offensive position toward Margaret. Margaret only blinked at him, unmoving. Upon realizing that it was only Margaret, and not an intruder, the Lost Boy blushed sheepishly and immediately resumed a normal position. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's quite alright. You never can be too careful, especially in a place like this," Margaret said, as she began take down some of the clothes that were hanging from the line. Attempting to not be rude, Margaret looked back at the boy, realizing that he was the tallest out of all the Lost Boys. "You must be Slightly," Margaret said, casting a brief glance at the boy, who hadn't moved since he had jumped into the clearing.

"Yes. Slightly, at your service!" He said, assuming a rather impressive salute. Margaret allowed herself a moment to turn herself toward him and give him her full attention, saluting him back in the process. Slightly suddenly grew sheepish again, an intense crimson blush setting in on his face. Margaret smiled and returned to taking the sheets and clothes off of the line, dropping them into the basket. "Um, Margaret, I want to ask: is Jane really your mother?" Slightly asked after a moment of silence. Margaret froze, unable to respond at the question at first.

"Well, she was, as a matter of fact. I mean, she still is, I guess, but…" Margaret bit her lip as she turned to face Slightly, "she, along with my father both died when I was very young. I hardly remember them."

Slightly cocked his head over to the side, puzzlement present on his face. "What is 'died'?" He asked her curiously. Margaret blinked, unsure how to respond to the question. Upon pondering for a second, she gestured for Slightly to sit down with her.

"Well, 'died' is the past tense for the word, 'death'. So, truly you are asking me what 'death' is. Death is when…well, it has different meanings for everyone," she said uncertainly, only garnering a blank expression from Slightly. "Death is when you lose your ability to live. You know how you are able to see the world around you and how you can interact with it? And you know how you can think things in your mind? Well, when you're dead, you can't do any of that anymore. It's like going to sleep, but you don't dream, you just remain in an unconscious state for the rest of eternity," Margaret explained to Slightly slowly. She bit her lip before adding: "I almost died recently, as a matter of fact."

Slightly stared at Margaret with his mouth agape. "How do you die? And how did you almost die? Is it something that happens often? Can you wake up from death? What is it like?"

"Whoa, there, calm down!" Margaret said, holding her hands up. "Um, there are many ways to die. But probably the one most familiar to you would be having a sword thrust into you by Captain Hook. In reality, there are a bloody lot of ways to die. Another way you can die is if you fall from a rather large height. Captain Hook had thrown me out of a tall building. Had it not been for Peter I would have died," Margaret said, answering Slightly's first two questions. "You can only live and die once in your life, but everyone at some point must die. So, yes, it happens often. And no, you cannot wake up from death," Margaret continued, her eyes growing distant. "And death is as I described before: eternal sleep. Well, at least that is my best approximation, I suppose."

"Wow! That is very weird!" Slightly replied with his nose scrunched up. Margaret laughed quietly at his reaction.

"Yes, I suppose it's quite strange," she said, her smile fading as Margaret began to think of her parents and her Nana. "That is why I wish to return to my Nana so much," Margaret finished distantly. Slightly, noticing the melancholy that suddenly befell Margaret, walked over to her side.

"Wendy could die?"

"Everyone at some point dies," Margaret confirmed. Suddenly, she looked over at Slightly, and idea forming in her head. "You wouldn't happen to be willing to give me some help with something, would you?"

"Help you with what?"

"Help me get home."