A/N: Hello! Sorry that this is getting out a little late. This chapter was tricky because I couldn't find a good place to end it. I'd worked on it for some time but due to how busy I was the last couple of days I didn't have a good time to work on it. Anyway, here's my little Christmas present to y'all! Merry Christmas and enjoy!

!

Margaret flailed her arms in the air as she plummeted through the sky. The water roared angrily beneath her as the spray of the waterfall near her spat at her falling form. Margaret clamped her eyes shut as she focused intensely on her memories.

"Come on, come on, come on!" She said to herself through gritted teeth. Margaret braced herself as she prepared to slam into the water. A second ticked by.

Then another.

And then another.

Margaret in confusion opened her eyes to find herself suspended over the angry water. She snapped her head up to see the pirates staring at her from the cliff far above her. A small, uncharacteristic, smug smirk spread across her lips as she burst through the air into the jungles of Neverland. She made certain that no one was following her as she blew through the air, eventually finding her way to the clearing in front of Hangman's Tree.

She hovered over the ground before landing on it peacefully, her feet touching the dirt lightly. Immediately upon doing so, Tootles rushed into the opening of the tree. His eyes met Margaret's as she smiled at him kindly. He sprinted from the tree, nearly tackling her with a hug.

"You're ok!" He cried. Margaret smiled as she stroked the top of his onesie, wrapping her own arms around him. The other Lost Boys gradually ran out to hug Margaret as they all gave their own proclamations of relief, Slightly being the last of them.

"Margaret, we thought you were going to be taken by the pirates! I'm so glad to see you made it out ok," he said. "Though, it seems you didn't make it out unscathed."

Margaret looked at Slightly in confusion before remembering the dirt strewn across her face as she touched her cheek. "Oh, that. Yes, I happened to take a nasty fall due to an unforeseen tree root. I was nearly taken by one of them, but quick introduction to my foot rid me of that problem."

The Lost Boys all laughed heartily as Slightly walked up to Margaret's side. "But seriously, it was a really brave thing you did there. You didn't have to do anything, and it probably would have been better for you if you hadn't. But, you saved us all by diverting their attention like that."

Margaret shook her head lightly. "I wanted to do something; it really wasn't all that brave. Besides, I had waited a little bit before doing anything, as I wasn't certain if it would be wise. However, seeing Peter fall to the ground was what caused me to take action. You would have been overwhelmed otherwise."

"I think she's right in saying that," Nibs stated. The rest of the group gave their own murmurs of agreement. Margaret smiled at them before her face fell.

"Where's Peter?" She asked quietly. Fearfully. The Lost Boys immediately grew quiet as Slightly grew stony. With a quick gesture he ushered Margaret to follow him. She trailed behind him, quickly rushing into the tree to find Peter resting on the bed where Margaret usually slept. Margaret let out a sigh of relief when she saw his chest rising and falling evenly. He was alive.

"He's very hurt. They got him on his right side as well as his right arm. And in his left leg," Slightly told Margaret, a distant tone in his voice. She nodded solemnly as she began to scrutinize the medical work done on him. Slightly nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's not my best work. This kind of damage is beyond my expertise."

"You did the best you could, but I'll take it from here," she informed him. Slightly nodded and walked out of the tree to command the Lost Boys to disperse for the day. He knew Margaret didn't Peter to be disturbed.

Margaret looked over Peter to see that his right abdomen and, as Slightly said, his left leg were the two areas most affected. She quickly took off the herbs that Slightly had used, muttering to herself as she searched for better herbs that would be more fitting for the wounds that Peter had. The most important thing for her to do at that moment was to prevent an infection in either area.

She grabbed two large shells that were the size and shape of small bowls, filling them both with clean water from the pond. Margaret then washed her hands in one of the bowls before bringing the other bowl inside, placing it on the table. She grabbed a cloth and dabbed it in the clean water, bringing it over to clean out Peter's wounds.

Then, Margaret bustled through the kitchen as she looked through every cupboard to find herbs. Luckily, one of them was full of fresh herbs, and she quickly sifted through them as she worked to find the ones she was looking for. After a quick search, she found herself successful as she grabbed a few herbs. She quickly broke them apart and used some of them on Peter's leg and side. Margaret was able to find two cloths that she was able to use to hold the herbs in place, but was unable to find a third to use on his arm. After a moment of thought she took out her hair ribbon for the second time that day and wrapped it around his to fasten the final herbs in place.

She stood over to the side to see her handiwork, pleased with the final result. It wasn't perfect due to her limited knowledge with herbs, but she still knew a lot. It was a result of her days helping Nana in the garden. Margaret always figured it would be a useful thing to know. She reflected on how lucky she was to have the knowledge to put that skill to use.

"Margaret?" Peter asked in a quiet and groggy voice. Margaret gently pulled herself out of her musings as she looked over to see Peter looking at her in disbelief. "Margaret!" He shouted, attempting to get up. However, he groaned in pain as he fell back against the bed. Margaret quickly pulled up a chair next to the bed as she sat next to him.

"I was so worried about you," Peter told her breathlessly. "When I saw you after they got me, I thought that they were going to capture you."

"They almost did. But I managed to get away," Margaret explained to him in a calm whisper. She shuddered as she recalled her close encounter with the pirates again. Definitely a situation she wasn't ready to repeat anytime soon.

"Margaret, why?" Peter asked as he looked over at her. "Why in the world would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"I wanted to do something. I would have gone after Tootles to help fight, but that would have been foolish—"

"And trying to divert the pirates wasn't?" Peter asked her in a raised voice. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Well you could have just as easily done the same!" Margaret shouted. "You rushed into the battle without even giving a thought to maybe even considering another plan! You just left to go fight! Do you even realize the danger you were placing yourself in?" Margaret cried. She felt a tear shimmer in her eye, though she had little idea as to why she was so emotional. She wiped it away quickly. "I was beyond worried sick about you."

Peter looked on at her in silence as he sighed. The peaceful sounds of Neverland drifted into the tree as a breeze swirled inside.

"I'm sorry, Margaret."

"I'm sorry too, Peter," she replied back. Another moment of silence passed between them as Peter reached out his hand to touch Margaret's cheek, wiping his thumb over some of the dirt plastered over her complexion. A rush of heat flared over her cheeks as she quickly took hold of Peter's hand and stood up, placing it back by his side and ushering him to go to sleep. Despite a bit of protest on his end, he quickly complied, turning over to his side to allow his eyes to close.

Margaret stumbled back toward the table as she let out a breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. The burning sensation still tinted on her cheeks as she brushed her own hand over her cheek in disbelief and thought.

!

"Margaret?" A soft voice asked. Margaret's head shot up as she awoke from clutches of sleep. Alarm shot through her; she hadn't intended to fall asleep. Indeed, she hadn't even realized that she'd nodded off in the middle of the night.

"Oh, Slightly, hello," she greeted as she groggily looked out the window to see the full moon hovering in the sky. From what she could discern it was in the middle of the night.

"You should go to sleep in one of the hammocks," Slightly said with a nod to where the Lost Boys snored in a chorus of song. Margaret shook her head as she fought her sleepiness.

"I need to look after Peter. I didn't realize that I had dozed, though I'll be certain to not let that happen again," Margaret said.

"Margaret, you really need to take to care of yourself. I'll look after Peter; it's not a big deal."

Margaret attempted to protest, but in her disoriented state Slightly was able to usher her toward the hammocks. Before she realized it, she was cocooned in a soft hammock as she drifted off into sleep once again.

!

The rays of morning light gently warmed Margaret's face as she stirred from her deep and restful sleep. An unfamiliar softness was draped over her, startling her awake as she noticed a blanket had been thrown over her. Margaret rubbed her eyes as she stifled a yawn. As expected, the rest of the tree was nearly deserted with the exception of Slightly's presence as he kept an eye on Peter. He looked over to see Margaret had awoken, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. Margaret slipped out of the hammock and folded up the blanket before walking over and putting a hand on Slightly's shoulder.

"How is he fairing?"

"He didn't stir at all during the night, so I guess that's a good thing," he replied as he yawned.

"It appears that it is your turn to sleep," Margaret commented with a slight smirk. Slightly rolled his eyes, but stood up and retreated to his own hammock. Within moments she could see that Slightly had fallen asleep soundly, causing Margaret to chuckle lightly.

She ignored the quiet roar of her stomach as she unwrapped Peter's cloths and replaced the herbs with fresh ones from the cupboard. The day outside seemed particularly beautiful as rays of sun slipped through cracks in the tree line. Birds chirped in the distance as the trees danced lightly in the island breeze. As Margaret worked around the kitchen to conjure a quick meal, she recalled some memories of her time in the English countryside with her great uncles John and Michael.

The Darling family owned a country home that was far removed from the anxious bustle of city life. Endless meadows surrounded the cottage with lush green grass. On sunny days, she would go out with her family to have a picnic where she would relax underneath the sun's warm embrace. Occasionally she would play with the young children, but being such a studious individual, she would usually bring history books to occupy her time as she sat on the picnic blanket as the grownups spoke about grownup things that she wished she was old enough to understand.

Margaret sighed as she grabbed a bit of spare fruit from the cupboard. She missed home quite a lot. She was sure her Nana was fine, but it made her heart ach that she had to be away from her for so long. It troubled her that she hadn't thought of her Nana in a few days. She reminded herself that her goal was to leave when an opportune time presented itself.

But for now, she had a duty to nurse Peter back to health. She looked over at his sleeping form, seeing his face begin to contort as he stirred from his slumber. She abandoned the plate of food she had been preparing for herself and chose to focus on preparing some broth for Peter. Luckily, a fire pit was located in the kitchen, so she wouldn't have to worry about stifling the flames to avoid creating a beacon for the pirates to find them.

Margaret, after a bit of struggle due to her lack of knowledge on starting a fire, finally created a small, but substantial ember. It quickly spread to be a small flame, of which she tamed by giving little fuel to the fire. She found a pot that had been fashioned from what appeared to be old metal, as there were a few chinks and dents in it. Margaret gathered a few herbs, some broth that had been given to her upon request by the Lost Boys, and some extra meat. She added them all into pot after she strung it through the pole that was placed above the fire. The pot had two holes on opposing ends for this purpose so she could heat it up.

The smell of the soup wafted throughout the tree. Margaret stirred the soup occasionally, even daring to dab a finger in it once in a while to check the heat. She hoped that she wouldn't undercook the food, since she was very inexperienced at cooking with a fire. Once the smoke began to thicken in the tree, Margaret fashioned a fan of sorts from leaves to try and disperse it from the room. She worked to deaden the fire slightly before finally deeming the soup as ready. Margaret had underestimated the amount of soup present in the pot, and soon realized that she'd have enough to feed everyone for the evening. She shrugged. It would make her evening simpler.

Margaret searched through the kitchen for a ladle, but came up dry in her search. After some thinking, she sighed and dipped one of the bowls into the pot to fill it with soup. Maybe if she learned how to carve, she'd be able to make on eventually, but for now this more barbaric way of doing things would have to do. Margaret dried the bottom of the shell with the skirt of her dress as she brought it over and placed on the table next to the bed Peter slept in. She then put out the fire before waving out the smoke to air out the tree.

"Ugh," Peter said quietly as his eyes fluttered open. He squinted slightly, adjusting to the sunlight that flooded the tree. Margaret walked over and sat by him.

"Morning sleepyhead," she greeted quietly. Peter closed his eyes again as he grunted. He slowly shifted underneath the blanket as he pulled himself up to lean against the wall. Margaret looked at him sympathetically as he hissed quietly in pain. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great."

"That's to be expected," Margaret told him as she began to tuck the blanket in around him. "At least you've been sleeping a decent amount. Your body will heal faster the more you sleep."

Peter groaned again as he worked to rouse himself from his groggy state. He yawned quietly as he opened his eyes again, looking over at Margaret. "How long have I been out?"

"You were asleep the rest of the day yesterday and last night, with the exception of our brief interaction when I arrived back."

Peter nodded before his eyes widened. A deep crimson hue spread across his cheeks as he grew uncharacteristically awkward. "Margaret, I'm sorry for being…weird. I don't know why I reached out my hand to—"

"You weren't in your usual mental state. It wasn't a harmful gesture," Margaret quickly said. "There's no need to dwell on it."

"Good, then we can just forget that it happened?" Peter asked with a hue of anxiousness in his voice.

"Already forgotten."

Peter sighed in relief as he shifted a miniscule amount. Margaret avoided eye contact with Peter as her ideas for conversation topics ran dry. However, Peter sniffed the air as he leaned forward.

"What's that smell? It smells like…soup."

"Oh, that! Yes, I made some soup for you," Margaret explained grabbing the bowl and holding out to him. "The soup is not particularly of the highest quality, but I managed to make my best effort with the limited resources that we had in our inventory."

Peter nodded, eagerly lifting the bowl to his face to begin inhaling the soup. Margaret smirked in amusement. By the way he continued to gulp in one fluid motion, she could deduce that Peter was quite hungry. It wasn't too surprising considering he'd been sleeping a lot after all.

"Thif if fweely goomph!" Peter exclaimed in the middle of inhaling the soup. Margaret wanted to chastise him for speaking in the middle of eating, however she only shook her head at him as she smiled. Peter finally put the bowl down once he finished his long drawl of the soup. Margaret took it away to begin cleaning.

"You should get back to sleep. Your body will not be able to heal you very well if you're awake," Margaret told him as she looked over her shoulder. Peter slouched as he looked over at her with childish pouty face. "I mean it," she insisted with a giggle. Peter raised his hands in surrender as he shifted in the bed so he could lay down once again. Once Margaret cleaned the bowl she walked over and saw that he had already fallen asleep. She carefully tucked in the blankets around him before she walked away to tend to her other chores.