A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so excited to get this chapter out! This has been a chapter that I've planned since the beginning of writing this story. Before you read the chapter, I want to quickly state that the song that is sung in this chapter is a song called Sleep by Eric Whitacre (disclaimer: my name is not Eric Whitacre, therefore I do not own this song). I would highly recommend listening to this song beforehand as it is a stunning chorale piece, and it will better contextualize the ethereal tone that is present in the chapter.
Anyway, thank you so much for reading my longer than usual note. Please enjoy!
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Margaret sang softly in the middle of the clearing as the wind quietly rustled the jungle trees in Neverland. She glanced up at the moon as she waited for Peter to come out with the pixie dust from inside the tree. A symphony of snores could be heard from within, a sign that Margaret had once again managed to knock the Lost Boys out with a simple lullaby.
Peter soon appeared outside, handing Margaret a pouch of pixie dust. Tinkerbell flew into the clearing, jingling quietly to Peter.
"I want you to look after the Lost Boys. Margaret and I are going to the meadow. We shouldn't have any trouble with the pirates, but in the case we don't come back, you know what to do," he instructed calmly. Tinkerbell seemed to want to argue, but she lowered her head as she gave a quiet jingle in reply.
"You ready?" Peter asked. Margaret nodded as she sprinkled a handful of pixie dust on her hand before she began to sprinkled it over her head. She closed her eyes and focused on the stories. Soon enough she began to float in the air.
Peter led the way in the air as Margaret followed behind. She went at a slower speed than Peter, as she was still inexperienced in her flying ability. However, Peter made certain to not travel too far ahead of her, glancing back frequently to check up on her.
The two traveled close to the tree line as they remained silent. They didn't want to risk catching the attention of any pirates that might be stowed away, hiding from view. Margaret glanced over at Peter's expression: stoic and determined. His eyes repeatedly flicked up toward the moon, almost in expectation. She wondered if it might be part of the surprise.
After a bit more flying, the two landed at the edge of the jungle where a large field stretched out in front of them. Margaret's lips parted slightly as she glanced at the swaying grass mixed with the dancing flowers that spanned the entire field. Yellows, whites, pinks, purples, and blues all mixed together through the field. The colors all endeared her to this location that she'd somehow overlooked during her few glances at the entire island.
Peter leaned over a bit, looking at her expression. When Margaret looked back at him, he quickly glanced up at the moon once more.
"It should start happening soon," he said under his breath. Margaret blinked in confusion, but it was short-lived as Peter began to usher her into the field. She walked at a leisurely place as she allowed herself to process the unassuming beauty in front of her.
Peter lingered behind as he waited anxiously for the surprise to begin. The moon was in position. He hoped that he hadn't been wrong.
The evening hangs beneath the moon
Margaret and Peter's heads snapped toward each other as they heard a chorus of voices sing together. Peter's eyes glazed over as he looked toward the middle of the field. In confusion, Margaret followed suit. The scene that lay before her shocked her to point of overwhelming and crippling awe.
A silver thread on darkened dune
Transparent and white, shadowy figures roamed the meadow peacefully as their voices sang in unison. Margaret found herself frozen in place as she observed all of the figures in her shocked state.
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon
Upon my pillow safe in bed
A thousand pictures fill my head
I cannot sleep, my mind's a-flight
And yet my limbs seem made of lead
Margaret trotted up to Margaret's side as she scanned the congregation of ghosts. Many of them appeared strange, with a few who shared some of her likeness throwing a curious but unconcerned glance in her direction. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as a thought occurred to her.
If there are noises
In the night
A frightening shadow
Flickering light
Margaret began to walk into the sea of ghosts that all walked around at a slow and serene pace. She began to look around for…them.
What dreams may come both dark and deep
Margaret took a deep breath as her heart began to beat faster. Peter shadowed her, but didn't intrude. He knew what she was doing. He knew that they were here. She began to wander by the ghosts as they all walked on past, taking careful glances and leans here and there when she thought she saw a familiar silhouette.
On flying wings and soaring leap
Margaret stopped abruptly as she felt all of her breath leave her at once. Across from where she stood, by a lone tree in the middle of the meadow, lay two unmoving ghosts. One of them an inviting maternal figure, and the other a kind but foreboding paternal silhouette.
Without thinking, Margaret printed toward the two figures as fast as she could. She ran through numerous ghosts that crossed her path as she panted heavily. She desperately wanted to reach them, to see them up close. And then, she stopped.
As I surrender unto sleep
Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the two figures. Her mother smiled down at her gently as she reached out a hand to touch her face. Jane, with her dainty and cool fingers, wiped away Margaret's tears as Margaret wrapped her hands around her mother. She looked up to see her father give her a gentle and welcoming expression. He wrapped his strong arms around the both of them as Margaret cried into her mother's chest.
As I surrender unto sleep
"I'm so sorry. It was all my fault," Margaret sobbed. Her mother pulled away and wiped away her tears as she shook her head. Jane stroked Margaret's hair gently as she put a hand over Margaret's heart.
As I surrender unto sleep
Margaret shared a tight hug with her parents as she cried once more at feeling their warmth around her. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't fathom that she was seeing them right here, right now. She was feeling them.
Peter watched from a distance as the chorus of voices began to retire and echo. Margaret pulled away from Jane as she stroked her daughter's hair a few more times. She looked up, and froze upon seeing Peter. A gentle smile spread across Jane's face as she nodded at him in acknowledgement.
Sleep
Sleep
…
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
The voices began to grow distant as the ghosts began to fade away one by one. Margaret looked back at her parents as they both squeezed her hands. Jane planted a kiss on her forehead as she and her father both faded away into nonexistence.
Margaret's hands remained outstretched as she yearned for the feel of her mother and father's embrace once more. She carefully concentrated on remembering the feeling of their arms around her, working hard to ensure that every moment of this spectacle was etched into her memory.
She tearfully turned around to see Peter watching her as he approached slowly. Margaret wiped her eyes, sniffling quietly. A hollow breeze washed over the meadow once Peter reached her. A few extraneous tears slipped down Margaret's cheeks, though she tried to hold them back.
Peter reached up and wiped them away with the pad of his thumb as he cupped her cheek gently. Margaret leaned into his touch with closed eyes, reaching up her hand to hold the one that stroked her right cheek. Her eyes fluttered open as Peter dropped his hand and opened his arms. She walked into his embrace as she hugged him tightly, her arms latched around his neck.
"Thank you, Peter," Margaret whispered to him quietly. He remained silent, rubbing a thumb over her left shoulder. Margaret soaked in the warmth of his arms as she continued to process the wonderful gift that he had given her. A gift that she would be forever grateful for.
A gift that she wanted to repay.
!
Peter carried Margaret back to the hideout as she slept in his arms. They had remained in the meadow sometime more. They hadn't spoken at all, but they both sat in the middle of the flowers as Margaret leaned her head against Peter's shoulder. There wasn't any need to speak; the presence of one another was enough.
Peter remembered when Margaret's head relaxed completely on his shoulder, a sign that she'd fallen asleep. He probably should have woken her up. But the peaceful look that lit up her expression was enough reason for him to wrap his protective arms around her and carry her back to Hangman's Tree.
He placed her on her bed and drew up the covers. She didn't stir, which gave Peter hope that she would sleep well. He retired to his hammock for the evening as he thought over what had happened.
He was glad that the surprise had occurred. Peter recalled the night before how Margaret had mentioned that she wished to see her parents. It was what spurred his thoughts for the surprise. Tinkerbell had mentioned a long time ago about a special event that occurred every ten years on a special full moon. He figured that Margaret would appreciate the opportunity to see her parents. After all, it might give her peace about what had happened. He didn't want her to carry the pain of burdening herself with guilt. She deserved better than that for herself.
It was strange how all of these thoughts traveled across Peter's mind. They were vaguely familiar. He'd experienced similar feelings with Wendy and to a lesser degree Jane, but with Margaret, there was something different.
He had cared for the others greatly, but with Margaret, Peter felt a deeper sense of care toward her. There was a deep fondness there. He couldn't recall how it had come to him. And, if he was honest with himself, he never thought that he would develop these emotions toward her.
Peter couldn't blame himself though. Margaret herself even admitted that she had been difficult when she first arrived. Though, to be fair the stress and shock of the entire ordeal didn't help matters. He remembered how desperate she was to get home. She was nearly worried sick about her grandmother. It reminded himself of how he felt those many years ago when their lives were tightly intertwined. Up until that point he'd never really cared much for anyone. I mean yes, he'd cared for the Lost Boys. But this kind of caring was different.
When Wendy had ended things, he was certain that his heart was going to break. A deep pain sat within his chest, and to his horror he felt himself lose faith and belief. For those precious few seconds he lost himself, he grew up. That terrified him. Since then the experience of his first heartbreak had lingered in his mind deeply. It was why he was more careful with Jane, and for his efforts he was mildly successful. He developed a fondness for her too, but he knew well that it was far more platonic. It was safer.
Finally, Margaret came along. At first, he wondered if he was simply growing to like her because she looked like Wendy. I mean, everyone had confused her as being Wendy at first. It was entirely possible.
However, he felt an unease when he realized that it was likely that he was really growing to like her, spurred by her first flying lesson and witnessing her carefree happiness as she flew through the air. There was something so beautiful about her when she was happy. Since then he wanted to see that from her more.
There were other attractive traits about her. She was resourceful and intelligent, determined to a fault, and brave. Margaret was witty, and could prove to be surprisingly funny at times. Peter still thought she had an incredibly beautiful voice. Though he'd only heard her sing the song twice, he always grew enchanted by the raw but gentle tones that her sound carried.
Peter sighed in the dark as he glanced at Margaret's sleeping form for the millionth time. He didn't want to admit it, but he was falling for her. Actually, he may have already done so. It didn't matter; there was no turning back from here. The fear of facing a similar heartbreak that he had with Wendy crossed his mind, but he had a feeling deep down that it would ultimately be better that he didn't try to resist his feelings.
Peter rubbed his temples quietly as he grew exhausted from so much thinking and contemplation. What was worse was that he'd probably have to think more about it tomorrow. With that in mind, he decided to try and sleep. Peter would need a lot more energy to figure this mess out.