A/N: Hello. So, it's been a while. I won't apologize for taking so long as I'll sound like a broken record. I'm gonna be honest, while I'm glad to make progress on this story, it's been a slow crawl. Not to mention I've looked back on some of my previous chapters and some of the errors I've caught have really made me start kicking myself. However, in the interest of not spreading myself thin, I won't be going back to make any edits to the story for now until I'm finished.

I hope everyone is safe out there right now. In these uncertain times, it's very important that we all show support for each other. I'm doing well, and I feel very fortunate that I have Animal Crossing to occupy my time outside of doing school work from home. (That is also part of the reason why I haven't been updating cause Animal Crossing has become my life now).

Anyway, sorry for the long author's note, but thank you for reading it and please enjoy the chapter.

!

Margaret stared at the ceiling of her quarters blankly, her hands folded on top of her stomach. Her apathetic appearance did little to reflect the speed at which her brain exhausted every single scenario, possibility, and minute detail that she could possibly imagine. Her focus on the situation at hand allowed her to ignore the rowdy shenanigans of the pirates and the oafish behaviors they exhibited. If Margaret was honest, she would have expected more from Captain Hook's crew.

She was certain that Peter and the Lost Boys were already drawing up plans to rescue her. However, it wouldn't be an easy venture. If she were a betting woman, she would say that they would try to enlist outside help. The pirates would overpower their small numbers otherwise. But she also couldn't rule out the possibility that Peter would be too stubborn to try and get help, so there was no certainty on that matter.

With all of that considered, however, she couldn't begin to estimate when they would come. It seemed obvious they would attempt a rescue within the month. Any longer would be foolish, and by then the pirates would have likely attempted some sort of deal, or they would rid themselves of her.

There were other obstacles on their end to consider. Besides the small number of Lost Boys, she wasn't certain how well they knew the ship. They would be somewhat familiar with the Roger considering they flew it to London during Wendy's journey. The uncertainty came with their knowledge of the area below deck. The small glimpse Margaret had of the underbelly allowed her to acknowledge two simple facts: the underbelly was extensive and the underbelly would be very difficult to navigate without any prior knowledge.

If they were going to rescue her successfully, they would need to know where she was. Luckily, Margaret was located where she had access to outside the ship. Though, if she couldn't find a way to communicate with Peter or the Lost Boys, then that advantage would be null.

"How am I going to send a message to them?" Margaret muttered underneath her breath. She groaned and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. A headache began to set in again. She attributed it to the immense amount of mental energy she had been spending since her unpleasant and stilted meeting with Hook.

Margaret raised a hand to the cheek that he slapped, grimacing. She could feel the great amount of swelling that had occurred. Moving her jaw caused her cheek to hurt even more. "Oh, blast that bloody pirate," she cursed in a low whisper.

Margaret's ears perked up as the sound of snoring drifted into her cell. She quickly jumped up from the floor and quietly rushed over to the door, where she strained to look both ways at her guards. Both of their heads were tilted downward, their eyes closed. They were asleep.

Margaret contained her near scream of joy to a quiet squeal. Quickly scanning her cell, she noticed a crate in one of the corners of the room that she was certain hadn't been there before. When had the pirates come into her cell?

She shook off the question as she quickly scurried over to the crate and attempted to lift it from the ground. The crate wouldn't budge. Margaret tried once again. And, once again, the crate remained firmly planted to the ground.

Her eyes darted to the door, making certain that the pirates hadn't stirred from their sleep. Biting her lip and taking a deep breath, Margaret placed herself between the crate and the wall and started to push as hard as she could. The crate moved, but a loud squeaking sound also resulted from her efforts. Margaret flew back to her spot and threw herself onto the floor into the same position she was in earlier. She heaved labored breaths as she waited for the pirates to barge into her cell.

The seconds ticked by, and Margaret sighed with relief as the chorus of snores drifted into her hearing. She was lucky they were still asleep. Margaret exhaled deeply and reached out a hand to drum on the surface of the floor. She turned her head over to the side to look at the crate, debating whether she should risk waking the pirates once again.

"Oh, get a grip on yourself. This might be your only opportunity," Margaret chided herself in a nearly silent voice. With a firm resolve, Margaret rose from the floor and went to the crate, beginning to push once again. She was more careful this time in her efforts, but loud groans and squeaks could be heard as she labored. Each time a sound was emitted, she would rush to resume her previous position on the floor. If the pirates entered, she hoped they wouldn't question the movement of the crate, which would be painfully obvious.

However, whether it was luck, a higher power, or sheer will, Margaret managed to push the crate across the room and below the opening without waking the pirates. She quickly hopped on top of the crate, standing on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the sea.

The opening was about 12 inches long and 6 inches high. Metal bars ran through the opening every 4 inches, totaling to 2. The metal appeared to be firmly attached to the wood that surrounded it. Without any tools, it wouldn't be possible to take out the bars. There wouldn't be a point anyway, since the opening was too small for her to go through.

The sky outside bore the resemblance of an orange, with faint coats of pink and purple strewn through its features. The sun would have to be setting. Margaret took careful note of this. While in captivity she wanted to have a way of keeping track of time.

The sudden jingle of keys caught Margaret's attention, causing her to fall backwards onto the floor. She groaned loudly, grimacing in pain as the door to her cell swung open. Her two pirate guards walked in, catching a quick glance of the new location of the crate. Neither of them said anything about the matter, however, and focused their attention strictly on Margaret.

"Time to move to yer new cell," Runt said. Margaret got up, brushing herself off with a raised eyebrow.

"New cell?"

"Captain's orders that ye be moved to a new cell e'ryday. He says ye have the intelligence to figure out why yerself," Slackey said. Margaret blinked in confusion as the two guards grabbed her arms roughly. She groaned as they began to walk her to her new cell. Margaret kept a careful eye on the path that they took through the ship, storing that information for later use.

During their walk, she pondered Hook's reasons for moving her quarters daily. She quickly surmised that this was to prevent her from making contact with individuals on the outside. Even if she did, without knowing where she was to be moved, contact would be infrequent and difficult.

Without warning, the pirates stopped and shoved Margaret into her new cell. She yelped as she hit the floor. The pirates slammed her door shut and locked it, taking their positions outside to keep guard. Margaret's nostrils flared as she stood up and brushed herself off, throwing a heated expression toward the door.

She took a moment to process her new surroundings. Sunlight filtered through an opening similar to the one in her previous cell, so she figured she had access to the outside of the ship once again. This time, a crate was located directly underneath the opening, so she wouldn't need to worry about trying to move one across the room.

Despite the temptation to peak outside, Margaret restrained herself from doing so while the pirates were awake. Instead, she sat on the floor with her eyes closed in a position of meditation. There was nothing she could do at the moment with the resources available to her. All she could do was sit and wait until something happened.

…

She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long.

!

Peter stared at the Jolly Roger as the sun drifted below the horizon. A small fire crackled beside him with a plate of stew that he had concocted wafting into his nose. Despite wanting to keep his focus entirely on the ship, he tore his gaze away for a few precious moments to consume the soup.

When Peter had entered the jungle, he had returned to the hideout and gathered some supplies to make camp on the beach, where he could watch the Jolly Roger's every move. The Lost Boys hadn't been permitted to join him, despite their ferocious protests and concerns for his safety. Peter remained resolute, and thus they were forced to accept that Peter was going to camp on the beach alone.

Peter stared into the broth of his stew, preparing to spoon a some into his mouth when he heard a scream ring in his ears. That voice…

Margaret.

Peter immediately jumped up, dropping his bowl of stew on the ground, its contents spilling onto the sand. Some of it swept over his shoes as he searched around frantically.

"Margaret? Margaret!" He shouted, his eyes darting everywhere he could think. Wisps of a memory began to dart across his mind, interchanging with the scenery in front of him seamlessly.

One moment, Margaret was falling below him, reaching out as a scream vibrated through her throat. The next, Peter stood in a dizzying paranoia on the beach. Just a moment later, he reached out toward Margaret, whose hand was centimeters away from touching his. Margaret's scream rose in a steady crescendo across these disorienting flashes of Peter's memory. Peter's eyes widened as she fell through the trees, her name catapulting from his lips in his memory. He desperately reached out once again. Maybe he could reach her. Maybe he could save her.

She disappeared.

"MARGARET!" Peter unleashed in a guttural, voice tearing scream. In an uncharacteristic wave of emotion, tears flowed down Peter's cheeks, the anchor of guilt burying itself into his heart.

Sobs ransacked his throat as he collapsed onto the ground in tears. A gentle jingle alerted him to Tink's presence, her quiet bells sounding in concern.

Peter could barely lift his head to look at his companion. Tink's expression was sympathetic, if not slightly taken aback. For the long time she had been by Peter's side, she had never seen him cry like this before. Actually, she couldn't recall a time when she'd seen him cry…ever.

"I failed her, Tink," Peter's voice cracked. Tears pooled into reflective crescents in his eyes, his vision blurring Tink into a muddled ball of light. "When she needed me most, I failed her. I vowed to protect her, and I couldn't do that."

Tinkerbell felt tears well in her own eyes at hearing Peter's howls of anguish. Despite her lack of experience, she attempted to console him, quickly racking up any words that would sooth the distraught boy.

"You're putting too much blame on yourself," she rang soothingly. Tink flew over to Peter's side, hugging and patting his left cheek. "You tried your best; you couldn't have done anything more."

"I should have caught her. I should have confronted them!" Peter cried out.

"And what? What would have happened then?" Tink questioned calmly. She withdrew from Peter's cheek and positioned herself in front of his eyes so she could stare at them critically. "The smart thing to do was to return back as quickly as possible and form a plan. Trying to get Margaret from the pirates immediately while unprepared and isolated would have resulted in both of you being captured. You made the right decision."

Peter shook his head, signaling to Tink that her words were falling on deaf ears. Despite her hot-headed nature, she attempted to put her frustration aside and simply focus on being a calming presence for Peter through his misery. Tink resolved that she wouldn't leave until his tears had dried.

She would be with Peter until dawn.