Margaret opened her eyes to a hazy void. As her eyes adjusted to her environment, she squinted. She stumbled as she stood up. Something about where she was seemed…familiar. But…it couldn't be a place she's seen before. When had the world looked like an ever-shifting oil painting? She couldn't recall when her world looked like a Van Gogh painting—
Margaret froze.
She could see a vague, oil-painting version of Peter holding an oil-painting version of herself. This oil version of herself wasn't moving. Why…why wasn't she in this version of herself? Why couldn't she feel anything? What…what was happening?
A large spot of red caught Margaret's attention as Peter pulled back his hand from the back of the other Margaret's head. Peter looked distressed. So very distressed. But…where was the sound? Peter was writhing. He must've been sobbing, he must have—
Margaret closed her eyes. There was only one meaning to this scenario. A shuddery breath was the prelude to the silent tears that dripped down Margaret's cheeks. She stumbled, reaching through the haze to grasp onto something so that she might steady herself. Margaret's hands trembled rapidly. She imagined if she'd been alive that her heart would've been racing. However, no heartbeat could be felt. There was nothing.
A hand gently reached Margaret's shoulder. Margaret jumped, instinctively moving away from the hand. A kindly face looked back at Margaret. A face that Margaret hadn't seen alive since she was four years old.
"Mum?" Margaret asked in disbelief, even more tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. She jumped up from the ground to throw her arms around her mother. Jane wrapped her arms comfortingly around Margaret as she cried, running soothing circles around Margaret's back.
"Darling," Jane said comfortingly. Jane began stroking Margaret's hair while they embraced. Margaret felt the tears come down harder with the added emotions of being with her mother. She could hear her mother. That voice that she'd almost forgotten over the last 12 years…
"Mum, I'm—I'm—"
"I know, dear," Jane replied, pulling away from Margaret slightly. "I…I'm sorry, you had to go through so much," Jane said as she reached over and wiped away Margaret's tears. Jane's eyes grew watery thinking about the horrors that Margaret endured, but neither could bring themselves to discuss the subject in the depth that would be required.
Margaret simply nodded, allowing herself to sniffle while she cried. She turned toward Peter again on instinct, seeing him again. She choked back a sob and threw her hands over her mouth. "Oh Peter!"
Margaret desperately wanted to run to Peter, to comfort and hold him in his distress. Jane held Margaret back from running to him. Margaret heaved her body as she wept, eventually burying her face in her mother's chest for comfort. Watching Peter in such despair was far worse than anything that Margaret endured during her time. Far, far worse.
Jane hesitated before speaking. "My dear, I think we should go somewhere—"
"I can't leave Peter alone, Mum. You can't ask me to abandon him—"
"Margaret," Jane silenced gently. Margaret gulped, bowing her head as she nodded. Jane grasped Margaret's hand, immediately transporting the pair to the hideout.
"How—how did you do that?"
"A rather nice benefit of the afterlife, if I do say so myself."
"But—" Margaret sniffled.
"Margaret, let us take a few minutes before you ask anything. I know you probably have many questions, but the fact is, you are dead. That is a lot of information for anyone to take in all at once."
Margaret nodded, biting back a cry as she clumsily sat herself down on the ground. She looked around, her vision blurry from the tears. Finally, she buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Jane sat down besides Margaret in silence, reaching over a hand to rub Margaret's shoulders comfortingly.
It was hard to determine how long the pair sat there like this. Margaret lost all sense of time as she cried, allowing herself to feel all the emotions that she suppressed for her survival on the Jolly Roger. She allowed herself to feel the pain of not being able to survive. She allowed herself the pain of death to wash over her.
Slowly, Margaret felt her tears stop. She wiped her tears from her cheeks. Margaret turned to look at Jane. "I…I think I'm ready."
"Alright," Jane replied. She tilted her head up in thought for a moment, presumably to determine how to begin. Margaret mustered all her patience to wait for a response. "I…well, I think beginning would be simpler if you were to ask me a question. That would provide me a foundation to start from."
"Well," Margaret said, sniffling, "I guess it wouldn't be an intelligent question to ask where we are, right? I mean, logically speaking we are in the afterlife…unless we're not?"
"As a matter of fact, we are not in the afterlife."
Margaret blinked. "If we're not in the afterlife then—"
Jane held up a hand. Margaret went quiet. "We are in a between place. I…I'll admit that I do not know what this place is called. There are very few that wander here—I didn't even wander here when I passed on, nor did your father." Jane paused for a moment to think. "I am here to act as a messenger for news that pertains to stipulations regarding your death."
"S-stipulations? What stipulations?" Margaret asked, her confusion palpable.
Jane thought for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. "Well, as I understand it, you have unfinished business in the world of the living."
"That's rather vague," Margaret stated anxiously. Jane nodded her head.
"Indeed. I think to state more clearly, you have some very strong ties to a certain individual in Neverland," Jane said with a knowing, melancholic smile. "Your ties to him are so strong in fact, that you won't be able to move onto the afterlife. Not as things are now."
Margaret thought for a moment, trying to piece together the overall meaning of that statement. Did that mean that she was cursed to wander this purgatory for forever? "I'm…not so certain that I follow."
"You…are not entirely dead," Jane began slowly. "Well, that's inaccurate. To state more rightly, your body is dead, but your soul remains. That means that…there may be a chance for you to have a second opportunity at life."
Everything stopped. Wait…she'd just died but now she might…truly?
Margaret felt something akin to hope explode within her chest at this news. This may not be forever. She could return to Peter. She could be there for him. Margaret could—oh there was so many things she could do!
Jane recognized the hope in Margaret's demeanor. "I…I do not wish to upset you in saying this, but the 'may' in that statement was meant to be capitalized on. This second chance is in no way guaranteed."
Margaret's face fell. "What does that mean, then?"
"I think that the universe has recognized that the connection between you and Peter is…rather strong. You…your death was unexpected and rather premature as I gather, too. So, in cases where such factors are involved, the universe has decided that under certain conditions, you may be resurrected to enjoy the life you were meant to live," Jane explained carefully.
"What are the conditions?"
"Your premature death was due to an act of selflessness, primarily manifested as a means to protect Peter and all parties related. Obviously, Peter returns your feelings. However, simply returning feelings that might be fleeting wouldn't be justification for your revival. Peter must demonstrate that he truly loves you in a manner that would be lasting."
Margaret bit her lip as she digested this information. "So…if Peter doesn't demonstrate that he has a 'lasting love' for me, then I can assume I shall remain…dead?"
Jane nodded gravely. "Until such an action occurs that the universe determines to be proof of a fleeting or everlasting love, you will remain here."
"I see," Margaret replied airily.
A minute of silence passed as Margaret thought. Jane, noticing Margaret's requirement for silence, was happy to indulge in the quiet. Margaret still struggled to take in the surreal feeling of being dead. Her mother was in front of her, who she hadn't heard from in over 12 years. She was dead.
Margaret was dead. She might have another chance at life. And this didn't seem to be a very common situation…
"Mum?"
"Yes, darling?"
"I…am I a bad person, if I go back?"
Jane pondered Margaret's question. "Why do you ask?"
"Not everyone else is afforded this chance to go back, if I've pieced what you have told me correctly. Isn't it a bit unfair that I have this chance?"
Jane digested the question as she leaned backward far enough to stretch onto the ground completely. Margaret tried to raise her posture, as to get a better look at her mother's face, but she was unable to reach her posture high enough to do so. Therefore, Margaret was left to wait with no indication of what her mother's answer might be.
"I don't believe so. I can't speak on the ethics of you being afforded this chance when many others have not. However, I have faith that this wasn't a circumstance chosen unjustly. Our world has been scarred with much of that throughout our history, but I choose to believe that our universe has a better sense of justice than what the flawed sprawl of humanity could ever hope to achieve."
Margaret went silent for a moment. "What…what about you and Father?"
Jane smiled, sitting up and pulling Margaret into a hug. "Darling, we both knew you weren't ready to remain in the afterlife. We will be fine here, as we've always been." Jane pulled away from the embrace, stroking Margaret's hair. "And we'll be happy to catch up on your life when you come here in your old age."
Margaret giggled tearfully, pulling her mother into another hug. "In that case, I'd be glad to tell you everything."
!
Margaret watched through the haze as a long procession of fairies floated in through one of the windows of the hideout. Their lights, normally bright, faintly twinkled in respect as they all floated by Margaret's corpse in reverence. Some flower fairies placed flowers around Margaret to join the flowers that had been brought by the Lost Boys.
Surprisingly enough, Margaret had found that she wasn't experiencing an existential crisis from watching her own funeral. Of course, Margaret wept each time she saw Peter in his distraught state, barely able to show his face as he cried into the shoulder of whatever Lost Boy was close by. There was some relief in not being able to hear anyone who was still alive. Well, at least Margaret assumed that sound didn't cross between the land of the living and the dead, based on the fact that she couldn't hear a single sound from the realm of the living during her time dead.
Had Margaret heard Peter's cries, she was certain she would be much less composed than she was now. Seeing Peter cry was heartbreaking, but hearing him cry as well would be impossible. Margaret had to content herself with staying near Peter when he cried as her own way of comforting him. However, she knew he didn't feel her presence. She knew that it didn't make any difference.
But as Margaret looked into Peter's watery eyes, she wished it did.
!
The shifting haze disoriented Margaret as she walked along the beach. Peter was conversing with Larissa, based on the body language that she could make out and the movement of his mouth. Larissa appeared solemn as she listened, occasionally reaching an arm out of the water to squeeze Peter's shoulder.
Margaret's heart ached, knowing that there was nothing she could do to get Peter to awaken her. Each moment increased the likelihood that the universe wouldn't deem their love as everlasting. Each moment increased the likelihood that Margaret would remain dead forever.
She took a deep breath, watching as Larissa disappeared into the water, leaving Peter alone once again.
Margaret would just have to have faith.
!
Peter sat by Margaret's side, keeping a silent vigil over her corpse. Margaret contorted her face as she observed the scene, feeling sadness creep over at seeing the pain in Peter's expression. He appeared to be speaking, although she couldn't be sure to who. It seemed that Peter was directing his voice to Margaret, but of course, the intended recipient would not be able to receive his message as she waited in the realm of the dead.
Jane approached Margaret's side, running a comforting hand over her shoulder. Margaret leaned into the touch, blinking back a few tears. Peter leaned forward, pressing his lips against the physical body. Everything appeared to freeze in time.
Margaret's heart paused. Why did everything stop moving? Margaret glanced at her mother, who shared a similarly perplexed expression. She and Jane turned to the side to see a white light starting to open in the distance. Margaret's head snapped toward Jane. Jane looked at her with a sincere but melancholic grin. "You don't have much time. You best run now so that you can take advantage of this opportunity."
"Mum…"
"Your father and I will be fine. I look forward to hearing from you whenever you do come here," Jane said, running a hand through Margaret's hair. Margaret bit back a few tears as she threw her arms around her mother. Jane reciprocated the embrace briefly before gently breaking away. "Hurry now. The light is moving away!"
Margaret nodded. She turned onto her heels and began a gradual crescendo into a sprint as she dashed through the haze toward the light, which moved away from her at a growing pace. Margaret pumped her arms, feeling her strides grow surer as she sprinted.
All obstacles that could've prevented her from reaching the light slowly started fading away. The world around her turned brighter. The light grew larger. Margaret could feel a tingle within her soul as she ran.
Taking one final glance behind her, Margaret memorized the look of pride in her mother's face. She closed her eyes. Margaret ran into the light, allowing every bit of it to envelop her in a warm embrace.
!
A/N: Hello everyone! Hope everyone is having a good time, whatever time it is right now. So, didn't think I was going to actually finish this chapter for some time. Weirdly enough I got inspired to edit by listening to a portion of the song "Farewell" from Disney's Pocahontas. (I'm well aware it's a controversial film for many. I like the music from the film and particularly like "Farewell" as a song. I do not mean to cause any distress or anger by mentioning the film). Anyway, my last final of the semester was this morning (5/5/22) and I won't lie, I feel a lot less stressed and more inspired to write already.
I keep on saying that it'll only be one or two more chapters, but as the chapter count grows, I cannot guarantee what the chapter count will be. I am also going to have a somewhat busy (maybe) summer, as my parents are moving houses (of which I will be helping in the process since I still live at home over the summers). This means there will likely be a period of time where I don't have access to internet as we get settled in the new place, plus other potential complications. Considering my track record for going on unexpected hiatuses, I realize that me disappearing wouldn't be too surprising, but I'm trying to be better about being more consistent, and therefore wanted to explain contextual reasons for why I might go on a break this summer.
That said, see you guys in the next chapter.