A/N: Hello! I've been working hard and I have finished chapter 14! I'm glad to be getting this one out! I'm getting closer and closer to the charted territory that I have thought out for the story. It's probably about 1-3 chapters away, so I hope that progress will start to increase. Anyway, please enjoy!

!

Margaret sat in the middle of the clearing, her eyes closed and her head cast toward the sky. Neverland had been uncharacteristically still that day, but Margaret didn't mind much. Her concern was primarily about soaking in as much sun as possible. She liked the feeling of warmth that wrapped around her features.

A slight stir came from within Hangman's Tree. Peter soon came out of the tree to sit by Margaret. It had been about 5 days since the fight, and with the help of pixie dust he was healed. Had Margaret not known of the fight or even participated she wouldn't have known that Peter had been injured. It made her curious as she flicked her eyes over at him as to how often he had been injured without her ever knowing.

"Peter?" Margaret asked, looking over at him steadily.

"Yeah?" Peter was lying on his back with his hands twiddling on top of his stomach. Margaret looked down at him with a blank expression as she worked to form her question.

"Have you ever been injured, but then healed yourself so I never knew or noticed the injury?"

"Yes, actually," Peter replied immediately. Margaret's eyes widened at him as she turned her body to look at his face. No indications of jest rounded off his serious expression. "The day that I went to get Wendy's necklace, I got into a bit of a scuffle. The pirates shot projectiles at me, which I was expecting, but despite my best efforts, an arrow managed to hit my arm."

"In hindsight I want to scold you for putting yourself in so much danger. But…knowing how distressed I was I really wasn't giving you any other options, wasn't I?" Margaret said in thought. Peter smirked at her as he shook his head. Margaret sighed and hit his arm playfully.

"Anyway, so because of that I had to take a bit of a detour and get some assistance from the fairies," Peter explained. As if on cue, a ball of light dashed into the clearing and swirled above Peter. She made a few jingling sounds as she spoke to Peter. Peter waved his arm lazily in dismissal. Tink huffed and flew away.

"What was that about?"

"She was just being difficult. So, as I was saying, the fairies kindly helped me out as they always do. For my second go around I decided to be a bit more strategic. That's why it took me so long to get back."

"I am sorry you had to go to so much trouble," Margaret apologized. "But something that I am curious about is why the pixie dust showed me an image of my grandmother collapsing when, in fact, that never occurred. It was quite strange."

"I don't know either. The fairies are just as perplexed as we are. There are rumors that the ritual may have been a mistranslation."

"Pardon? A mistranslation of what?" Margaret asked with her head cocked over to the side.

"All of the spells and fairy rituals came from an old book of spells that is in a forgotten language. Even when they could read it, their ability to translate the script was rough and imprecise. So, it's possible that the ritual is meant for something other than what we were trying to use it for," Peter told Margaret. Margaret nodded her head as she thought over the subject. It never occurred to her that Neverland could have a history as rich as any other country or state. "So…Margaret what are you doing out here?"

"I'm just soaking in the sun. Our supply of that in London is quite miniscule," Margaret joked with a giggle. "It reminds me of the countryside during the summer."

Margaret looked out into the overgrowth as her expression became wistful. A sadness gnawed at her as she felt a longing break within her chest. Peter mirrored her sudden shift into somberness. He sat up and reached out to touch her hand.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her attention. "We'll get you home soon."

Margaret pursed her lips and nodded. The sound of the Lost Boys returning home for the evening broke the moment of silence shared by the two. Margaret stood up and brushed the dirt off her dress as she entered the tree to prepare dinner.

!

"Margaret, can I ask you something?"

Margaret looked up at Peter as she continued to repair the Lost Boys' ripped clothes from the skirmish. They had been running around in dirty onesies and Margaret was not going to have them live like barbarians.

"Yes, what is it Peter?" Margaret replied, returning her attention back to her sewing. Birds chirped in the distance as another unassuming day in Neverland continued around them. Today in particular the trees appeared to be supremely lush. And, under the right light, their leaves appeared to glow in the sun, similar to the grass and brush that covered the ground.

"You said, that night that you did that ritual to see Wendy, that you were responsible for your parent's deaths…" Peter began, taking a deep breath, "is…is Jane…?" Peter looked away, unable to will himself into finishing the question. Margaret bit her bottom lip as her breath caught. How could she respond?

Words ran dry in Margaret's mouth as she nodded, unable to meet his eyes. She had to remind herself that he had a connection to her mother too. And he hadn't even known. It must be hard for him to watch his loved one's wither and die before his eyes.

Margaret felt her throat go tight as a well of tears threatened to burst from within her. She tensed as she wiped away a stray tear from her eyes. Margaret looked over at Peter to see that his own eyes were shimmery as he grew uncharacteristically withdrawn.

"How...how?" Peter asked, his voice cracking as he took deep breaths.

Margaret's gaze grew distant as the image was conjured before her. Her grandmother, less wrinkled with more color in her hair standing in the kitchen as she spoke to her. Then the ringing of the phone. Her grandmother walked over to the phone and picked it up gingerly. A stunned face. A gasp. Her hand went up to her mouth as she stifled a shriek.

"I was…I was very young," Margaret said with her voice growing quiet and pitchy. "It was raining, and I was bored. I decided to go to Nana's home. I didn't tell my parents. They panicked when they couldn't find me. They decided to go to the police station to proclaim me as missing."

Margaret heard a phone ring in the distance, its echoes plaguing her mind. The sound of a car screeching to a halt as a sickening wham blasted into the air.

"There was a drunk driver, and there was a crash."

Margaret covered her ears as the tears broke through the barriers that she had set up. This had happened so many times, all she needed to do was to whether it out and keep her composure.

But, unlike usual the ringing grew stronger. The sounds of screaming added to the mix of sickening sounds that began to surround Margaret. The scene of the crash flashed before her eyes now. Margaret swore she could feel water dripping down on her, just like it had on that day. She grew cold as the cold water soaked her to the bone.

Peter watched in horror as Margaret began to sob loudly as she continued to cover her ears. He scrambled to sit in her line of sight, but even though Margaret was looking in his direction, it didn't look like she was seeing him. She trembled as he reached out his arms and began to call out her name, shaking her to rid her of what she was seeing. Margaret closed her eyes as she began to cry out louder. She pressed her hands harder against her head. She wasn't hearing him.

"Margaret! Margaret! MARGARET!" Peter yelled. Margaret froze as her eyes flew open. Peter's hands lay firmly on her shoulders as he stared into her eyes. She looked at him as she inhaled and exhaled shakily. She still trembled in his grip as he guided her hands downward. Upon seeing him, Margaret broke down completely. He could see her fight against the tears and the sobs that came from her as she desperately tried to find her usual composure. But none was found. She found herself in a completely raw and vulnerable state in front of Peter. Peter pulled her into an embrace as she cried into his shoulder. "I'm here Margaret. I've got you," he said to her reassuringly.

It felt like years of pent up sadness, guilt, and fear had all burst out of Margaret at once as waterfall of tears pelted the dirt beneath her and Peter. "It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault," Margaret repeated into his shoulder as she cried harder. Eventually, Margaret's eyes drooped closed as she had drained herself of all of her energy from the intense emotions she had experienced.

When Peter felt Margaret go, he carefully swept her up into his arms as he carried inside and onto the bed. He pulled up the blankets to her neck as her head rested against the pillow. Peter sat in the chair that Margaret had used to sit by Peter's side and pulled it up to the bed, where he grabbed ahold of one of Margaret's free hands that dangled on the side of the bed. He held onto her hand as she slept, carefully stroking it with his thumb in thought as a stray tear slipped down his cheeks.

!

Margaret's eyes fluttered open as she awoke from her sleep. Due to her grogginess, she became confused as to how she was in her bed. But, after feeling the dampness of her pillow she remembered what had transpired earlier that day. An unfamiliar sensation caused her to snap her head over to her right, where Peter sat, staring into nothingness as she realized he was holding her hand. At first, she felt an urge to withdraw her hand from his grip. However, she suddenly found herself…liking the feeling of his hand holding hers. Something about the connection and meaning behind human touch made her feel…warm and…cared for. And, for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt a thrill at this coming from Peter.

She moved her head slightly, catching the attention of Peter who looked over at her. "Hey," he greeted with a somber expression. Margaret spread her lips into a brief smile in greeting. "How are you feeling?"

"I apologize for what had transpired," Margaret said, dodging the question. Peter shook his head.

"Don't be. I didn't know, but I should have realized it was probably a tough subject to talk about."

"You didn't know," Margaret said, taking a deep breath as she sat up. She looked over at her hand to see Peter still holding it. A tint of pink touched her cheeks as she looked up at him. He blinked a few times before looking down. His eyes widened as he quickly withdrew his hands from hers. Margaret, despite her amusement, felt a tinge of disappointment at the loss of contact. She missed the feeling of warmth that coated her hands.

"Well, anyway, I want to do dinner tonight. You've been taking care of everything, and I think you should get a night off," Peter told Margaret.

"As much as I wish to object, I am feeling a bit worn out. The fatigue will likely remain with me for some time."

"Good, then we don't need to argue about that then," Peter said with a smile as he rose and began to pull out some meat from the cupboards. Margaret leaned back against the bed as Tootles rolled into the tree with the Twins both fighting on top of him. Slightly rushed into the tree with a wooden sword as he play-fought Cubby. Nibs jumped into the room and began to run about as they boys all yelled and fought each other. Margaret raised her eyes at the scene. Peter glanced over at them in slight annoyance before returning his focus to preparing a meal for everyone. Margaret stood up and tried to calm down the boys, but in the midst of their horseplay they didn't notice her presence at all.

The boys all calmed down a bit when Peter brought in their meal for the evening, but then they all returned to their state of chaos once the last bit of meat was consumed from each of their servings. They rolled around the tree as Peter and Margaret attempted to peacefully clean up everything. However, it soon became too much for Peter as he prepared to yell at them. Margaret stopped him as she laid a hand on his shoulder gently. She stepped into the middle of the room and whistled loudly to gather everyone's attention.

"ATTENTION!" She yelled. All of the boys stopped what they were doing and lined up to salute. Margaret saluted them back. "You all have been quite a handful this evening, and I think it is time for bed."

"What, no!" Cubby shouted. All of the other boys agreed and protested with Cubby as Margaret began to herd them toward their hammocks. Margaret remained firm and steady. Her resolve couldn't be broken.

"We're not ready for bed!" Slightly attempted to argue.

"Yeah! We don't want to go to bed!" The Twins said in unison. Margaret shook her head as she managed to get Tootles into his hammock.

"Well, then I want to strike a bargain!" Slightly said, holding up his hand. Margaret folded her arms as the other boys looked over with twinkles of hope in their eyes. "I want you to tell us a story," Slightly said as he jutted out his chin. The other boys quickly shouted in agreement.

"I don't have any good stories to tell," Margaret told them. "They would all be quite boring. Wendy is the storyteller."

"Then we're not going to bed!" Cubby shouted in reply.

"However, how about I make you a counteroffer? I'll sing you a lullaby," Margaret told them all. The Lost Boys stood in thought for a moment. They quickly huddled together as they all whispered to each other in discussion. Margaret looked back at Peter, shaking her head as a small grin played on her lips. He did the same thing as he shrugged his shoulders.

The Lost Boys dispersed as Slightly turned around and lifted his head as he puffed out his chest. "We have a deal!" He said with a nod of finality as he spit into his hand and held it out for her to take. Margaret blinked in confusion as she glanced over at Peter who chuckled.

"It's how we seal deals here."

Margaret made a slight look of apprehension before she weakly spat into her hand and took Slightly's hand lightly, shaking it briefly before she quickly wiped her hand on her dress as she made a face of disgust. Slightly and all of the Lost Boys climbed into their respective hammocks wide awake and ready for their lullaby. Margaret sat in the middle of the room as she closed her eyes for a moment in preparation. She began to sing.

"The second star to the right,

Shines in the night for you,

To tell you all the dreams you plan,

Really can come true."

Margaret stood up and began to tuck each of the Lost Boys in. Their eyes began to grow noticeably heavy as they fought to stay awake. They all felt that the song was slightly familiar, but it fell out of their reach as they began to lose their fight against drowsiness.

"The second star to the right,

Shines with a light that's rare,

And, if it's Neverland you need,

Its light will lead you there."

Margaret looked over to see that Tootles was the first to lose his fight against sleep. The other more resilient boys all yawned in unison as they strained to keep their eyes open.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star,

So, I'll know where you are,

Gleaming in the skies above,

Lead me to the land we dream of.

And when our journey is through,

Each time we say, "Goodnight,"

Then, we'll thank the little star that shines,

The second from the right."

The boys were all passed out by now as Margaret finished tucking Tootles in. She scanned the area, a small smile spreading across her lips for a moment as she admired her handiwork. She ducked her head and turned toward the kitchen to see Peter staring at her with a flabbergasted expression on his face.

"Peter, are you alright? You seem as if you'd happened upon a ghost?" Margaret asked him in jest. However, as the look remained on his face, she realized that the shimmery expression she'd noticed from earlier reappeared.

Peter quickly shook his head as he feigned a normal, carefree expression. "No, no, I'm fine." Despite Margaret's skeptical look, she climbed into bed and went to sleep. Peter stole outside into the clearing as he looked up into the sky, clutching Wendy's shell necklace.

In the middle of the night, as the moon shone down on him, he murmured, "You still remember."