A/N: Hello all! So, a bunch of new people have begun following this fic out of nowhere! Welcome! Thank you for following! This fic has been a bit more of a passion project for me, and I'm glad that all of you are enjoying it! I've apologized for this a thousand times, but I'm really sorry for the slow progress. We're getting really close to the end, which I already have in mind. I don't want to say anything more as I don't want to spoil anything. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

!

Margaret's eyes fluttered open, a groan escaping her lips. A pounding headache settled in her head as she groggily attempted to make sense of her surroundings. She was met with a series of unintelligible blurs and a slight ringing in her ears in response.

She ran her hands over the area beneath her, slowly coming to the determination that she was placed somewhere where the floor was made of wood. As Margaret waited for her other senses to awaken, she took a deep breath and blinked away the blurriness. The room she was in was very dim, with only a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. She confirmed with a few glances that she was enclosed in a wooden space, allowing her to deduce she was on the Jolly Roger.

How had she gotten here?

Margaret furrowed her eyebrows for a moment before her breath caught for a moment, the memories of what had occurred flashing before her eyes in quick succession.

She had been flying in the air with Peter. One moment, she was looking over at him with a smile, the next moment she was falling out of the sky toward the ground as she glanced down to see an arrow implanted on her right shoulder. Peter flew after her, shouting. She couldn't make out what he was saying. She reached out her hands as he prepared to catch her. Suddenly, the trees scratched her back as she crashed through the tree line, slamming onto the ground. For a brief moment, she saw a circle of blurs stoop over her before everything turned to black.

Margaret took notice to a dull pain in her right shoulder, glancing down to find that it was still bleeding, though most of it had already scabbed over. She couldn't tell if it had been cleaned under the dim lighting, but she had a feeling that it hadn't been. As much as she wished to worry about any of the innumerable infections she could contract, she pushed her thoughts aside and began to figure out a way to escape.

The room seemed to be toward the back of the ship. To her left, an opening lay near the ceiling, which she presumed faced the outside due to the light shining through it. The opening was much higher than she could reach, even with jumping. However, if she could find something to stand on, she might be able to catch a glimpse through it. It definitely wasn't wide enough for her to attempt to slide through it, but it was a valuable piece of information nonetheless.

The was an opening in the door that led into the room. Margaret stood up, hissing when her shoulder began to sting. She walked over to the door and peered through the opening, catching a glimpse of the inside of the ship. From the corners of her eyes, she noticed two pirates standing guard on both sides of the door. It was highly she'd be able to escape this way unless she was smart about it. She vainly tried to open the door, but as she had expected, it was locked.

The sound of her attempt to open the door garnered the attention of both the pirates. Margaret retreated back as they both came to the door and opened it, looking at her with stoic expressions.

"Good, yer awake. The Capp'n wants to see ya," one of the pirates informed her. Both of the men were extremely well built, further confirming that she would be unable to overpower them. She did catch the gleam of a dagger sheathed in the belts of one of the pirates, which she stowed in the back of her mind as a contingency.

Margaret raised her chin as a sign of confidence. One of the pirates roughly shoved her between him and the other pirates before they led her away from her room. She squared her shoulders and tried to hide the adrenaline blasting through her body, which was evident by her shaking hands. Margaret carefully mapped the layout of the underbelly of the ship as she was led through it, noting all of the different exit points she could potentially make use of in case the time came for her to take action.

She climbed the stairs with the two guards to the deck of the ship, where the pirates were all going about their daily duties. They laughed and spoke to one another in boisterous conversation, hardly taking notice of the young girl that walked amongst them.

Facing the back of the ship, the two guards walked her toward a door where two more guards stood. With a nod of the head from one of the door guards, the guards that were beside Margaret shoved her through the door, where she fell to the floor, biting back a hiss of pain from her shoulder when she caught herself.

"Took you long enough to wake up," a distinctly posh voice remarked. Margaret looked up at Captain Hook from her position sprawled on the floor. With a defiant glare, she brushed herself off as she stood up, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I don't think it could have been helped, Captain," Margaret said, venom drowning her words.

"My, my, you are definitely not the well-mannered student I knew from Grim Prep," Hook stated once again with smug tone. "Of course, as much as I like catching up on the time we've spent apart, I would rather get to the point, hm?"

"I believe that is one thing we can both agree upon."

"Good. I am here to make a deal with you," Hook said. "Now, I will take this opportunity to remind you that you are not in any position of power here, so if there are any remnants left of your studious nature, then I would consider taking this offer. I'm doing you a favor in doing so."

"I was never under the impression that you were so presumptuous," Margaret bit back.

"I'm not presumptuous, I am practical. Knowing as much as I do about you, you will find this offer enticing," Hook replied with an impatient tint. "Tell me where Pan's hideout is, and I'll set you free to return home to you Grandmother. Furthermore, I will not ever capture or harm any future descendants of the Darling family."

Silence blasted between the two as Margaret thought over his offer for a moment, before shaking her head. "I believe I will have to decline your offer. I don't like to partake in such offers that insult my intelligence."

"Given your concern for your poor Nana, I would beg of you to reconsider my offer. I won't be giving you the opportunity for an out twice," Hook said warningly.

"Allow me to make myself clear Captain," Margaret spoke up clearly. "I have no intention of betraying my friends for an empty promise that, in the grand scheme of things will serve me no purpose. Furthermore, considering the very blasted idea you think so little of me as to immediately jump upon what is likely a disingenuous offer, I would hope that you take my spit as a gesture of my thoughts on the matter and your treatment of me thus far." Margaret proceeded to then spit at Captain Hook, a small ball of saliva landing on his right shoulder. Hook stared at the girl, thousands of fires lighting behind his eyes as he wiped off the spit from his shoulder and stared at the girl, obviously restraining himself.

Then, without warning, the Captain stepped forward and slapped her in the face with the back of his hand. His stroke was so smooth and so hard that Margaret was thrown onto the floor with the gesture, throwing up a hand to her cheek as she managed to withhold the shout of pain she desperately wanted to make audible. Other than the hand gesture, Margaret refrained from any further reactions to the slap.

"You will show respect to me on my own ship. I am a pirate; I demand respect, and I will do what it takes to get it. Slackey and Runt! Take the girl away!" Hook shouted in a demanding tone.

The two guards that led Margaret into the quarters reappeared to take the girl away, this time dragging her by her arms as she snarled in Hook's direction. Hook's final response to her was a steely, stoic face as he shifted his jaw in thought. She might be a bit more work than he'd bargained for. He'd need to put her rebelliousness to rest quickly and swiftly. And he knew just the thing to do so.

!

Peter sat at the beach staring at the Jolly Roger from the shore. The boat sat, anchored to the ground in the middle of the lagoon in the same position it had been since the beginning. No extra movement occurred on board the ship…nothing was different.

Peter drew upon his long range of experience with Captain Hook, trying to recall his various encounters on the Jolly Roger and all of the possible places they could be keeping Margaret. If the pirate had any of his marbles left, he would keep Margaret below deck. Unfortunately, Peter had only gone below deck once. Even then, he hardly got even a peak at the underbelly of the Roger. He would be far outclassed when it came to navigating the ship.

This, along with other problems was making his plans to rescue Margaret take much longer than he'd prefer. Each moment longer she was on the ship increased his anxiety exponentially. He was certain that if he found out Hook had laid a finger on her, that a murder would occur in Neverland.

"She's probably trying to figure out a way to escape right now. Knowing her, she's already found a way to make a homemade bomb or something. She's smart and resourceful. She'll find a way to contact you," Peter muttered to himself as a way of comfort. It did little to succeed in this purpose.

Peter stiffened as he heard the rustle of leaves behind him. Soft footsteps indicated that Tootles was the one to arrive, as he had been the only Lost Boy to carry some sensitivity to Peter's more fragile state of being since the abduction. All of the other Lost Boys were rather oafish in demeanor, and did little to diminish the disturbance they caused when approaching Peter. Tootles, in stark contrast, made his best efforts to not disturb Peter when he could help it. He too was nervous about the situation, considering his closeness to Margaret.

"How are the rest of them doing?" Peter asked, not bothering to turn to look at Tootles.

"Still brainstorming, sir," Tootles said quietly. He plopped himself down on the sand and began to play with the sand anxiously as he looked at the Jolly Roger in the distance. He had to squint to make out the ship properly.

"We'll get her out. It's just a matter of when," Peter tried to say reassuringly.

"I know that. She's probably figuring out a way to escape too, but…do you really think we'll be able to rescue her?" Tootles asked him sincerely. "We haven't been able to fight the pirates since they've become so…difficult."

"We'll have to get help."

"The Indians have been gone for so long, though," Tootles said. "The fairies won't be able to help us much, and I don't even know what the mermaids could do. They aren't that reliable."

"When in these situations, sometimes you're forced to trust people you wouldn't normally trust. Besides, the fairies can use their pixie dust to help out, and the mermaids pledged their help to Margaret should she need it. No better time than now to take them up on their offer, even if it's coming from me," Peter replied in a monotone, even voice. His voice was entirely devoid of the boyish liveliness Tootles had always known; it was a voice entirely devoid of life.

Peter turned around and walked into the jungle, leaving Tootles behind. As Tootles watched him walk away, he noticed the slump in Peter's shoulders, the gray in his previously jovial eyes. He began to wonder if it just the life of one person that was at stake.