There was still a bit of time to kill before sunset so Tinkerbell flew back down to Peter Pan. She wanted to look upon his innocent face once more before leaving. When she reached the ground, she saw that Peter Pan's face was now calm and smooth. He was so still and statue-like that Tinkerbell wondered if he was even breathing. A sinking feeling snuck over her that the boy might have expired in the cold while she was talking with Watcherlyn.

Quickly, Tinkerbell walked closer to his motionless face in an attempt to hear his breathing. She walked up to his nose and put her hand under it to feel the air, nothing. Tears welled up in her eyes as she came to the realization that the boy was gone. She started to back away slowly. Death was new to Tinkerbell considering the long lifespan of most fairies. Her gaze stayed on the young boy's smooth face. Tinkerbell wondered if all dead people looked this calm. It seemed as if he was just sleeping. His current state was more peaceful than when he had actually been asleep.

Suddenly, quicker than Tinkerbell had time to react, Peter Pan's left eye flew open and darkness descended on the fairy. It felt like Tinkerbell was in a warm soft cave. Her quick-witted brain connected the pieces of the situation without trouble. The boy was young, but smart. He knew that whoever left the clothes for him had to be close by. The calm death-like state he was in was just a ruse to draw Tinkerbell near so he could catch her. Now she was trapped under Peter Pan's dirty hands.

Tinkerbell wondered what the boy would have done had she been larger. His plan would have undoubtedly failed if she were twice his size. But, alas, she was at most 1/100 his size. Being in the dark was bad for Tinkerbell. It would have been bad for any fairy. Without the sun's rays Tinkerbell would soon be drained of all of her energy. As the boy's hand continued to block out the light, Tinkerbell became increasingly tired. She slowly fell to the ground as her resolve weakened. It was a struggle for her to even keep her eyes open. As she lay on her back in the warm darkness, Tinkerbell could feel her energy draining away. Finally, she stopped resisting and closed her heavy eyelids.

Although she was tired and weak, Tinkerbell could still sense what was going on in her surroundings. She felt the sun's rays on her skin again and she assumed Peter Pan had removed his hands. It takes much longer to recharge a fairy's energy than to drain it, so Tinkerbell was still incapable of moving. In fact, the only reason fairies are able to wake up every morning is because their energy is charged during the night by moonlight. The moon, after all, does just reflect the light of the sun.

Tinkerbell lay there motionless, only able to draw clues from her senses to envision what was going on around her. Jagged wind accosted her face and she imagined the boy must be fanning her with his hands. The wind was aggravating but there was nothing Tinkerbell could do about it. And, it definitely wasn't helping her to regain her strength faster. Just as Tinkerbell had gotten used to the wind attacking her, it stopped abruptly. She could slowly feel the sun's rays rejuvenating her extremities. Her fingers curled as their numbness receded. Her energy did not return quickly enough, however, and her ears soon paid the price.

From Tinkerbell's point of view, it sounded like the sky was about to come thundering down. In reality, she knew it was just Peter Pan's voice. He must have been screaming because Tinkerbell felt like she was drowning under the pressure of the sound. She knew that he must be trying to jolt her awake, but yelling was futile. It would take a quick jolt of sound such as a clap or crash to jumpstart her body. His current yells were more like a heavy blanket of sound than a jarring clap of thunder.

Peter Pan was a quick study. It didn't take long for him to realize that yelling was useless. All of the sound stopped and Tinkerbell wondered if he had given up. It didn't bother Tinkerbell that the boy had run out of ideas. Now that her body was re-exposed to the sunlight, she would regain her strength slowly but surely. It seemed, however, that Peter Pan was not so content to wait out Tinkerbell's recovery. Before she could settle into her temporary paralysis, a thunderous roar ripped through her body. She knew that it was Peter Pan's clap that now sent erupting vibrations through her form.

The sound was so loud and the vibration so strong that Tinkerbell had no choice but to let out a blood curdling scream. All of her energy returned in one sharp jolt that shocked her body into an upright seated position. This was a different feeling than before when she had gotten knocked out on the pirate ship. Back then, she was able to immediately fly away once the collision of the pirates' heads jolted her awake. Now, she was too stunned to move. Although she was no longer physically paralyzed, her mind was still trapped in a confusing haze and her entire body was in pain. Her lungs ached with every breath while stray jolts of electric energy moved up and down her spine.

Perhaps this experience was different than before because of how close Peter Pan had been to her when he initiated the clap. Or, it could be the fact that the pirate had physically knocked her out while Peter Pan only drained her energy by restricting her access to the sun. Either way, there was no chance for a quick escape in her current state.

It seemed that Peter Pan was also taken aback by Tinkerbell's current situation. Her sudden ascension into an upright position had caused him to shrink away in shock. He now stared, unmoving, at her motionless state as if he were copying her. Tinkerbell took a second to think, because she had nothing better to do, about how interesting the mannerisms of the young boy were. He hunted like an outdoorsman but slept like a toddler.

On the pirate ship he seemed weak and helpless but this current situation revealed him to be calculating and resourceful. He was a special boy, Tinkerbell could tell. She would be sad to see him go. But, she knew it was for the best. Neverland was no place for confused young boys with no supervision.

Tinkerbell was still in her foggy haze, but she had remembered how to use her extremities again. Even though she could now use her arms and legs, her usual grace was severely lacking. She was flailing her arms like she was going to use them to fly, possibly because her wings were continuously sputtering like a speed boat propeller that wouldn't start. Her legs were the oddest of all. They were moving back and forth as if they were trying to stand up but just couldn't get the hang of it. Peter Pan noticed the difficulty she was having and he slowly moved closer to her. He got so close to Tinkerbell that all she could see was one of his eyes. He brought forward one of his fingers to poke her but her sporadically flailing right arm slapped his finger away.

As he withdrew his curious finger, Peter Pan's facial expression changed into one of sudden inspiration. He leaned away from Tinkerbell and opened his arms as wide as he could. At first, Tinkerbell thought he was inviting her in for a hug. Then, she realized the truth. He was going to clap again. From the look on his face and the confidence with which he was performing these current actions, Tinkerbell knew this clap would be stronger than the one before.

The clap would be bigger and louder because Peter believed that it would help Tinkerbell to recover. She braced herself for whatever effects would result from this second clap. Her extremities stopped flailing as she readied herself for the blast.

His hands came together with a bang. The vibrations forced Tinkerbell to raise her arms straight up near her ears as if she were doing the wave. Peter Pan was encouraged by this development so he clapped again. This time the clap brought her legs to life as they finally thrust her into a standing position. An apprehensive look came over Peter Pan as he wondered if Tinkerbell was completely healed.

For good measure, he clapped one last time. With this last vibration, Tinkerbell was pushed into the air and her healing was complete. She flexed her wings by flying in concentric circles around Peter Pan's head. The boy flashed a toothy smile at Tinkerbell as he watched her fly around. The warmth of the sun coursed through her veins as Tinkerbell did tricks in the air like a flying rodeo clown. She flew to the top of the Tree of life before diving straight down toward Peter Pan. The boy only watched with wide eyes as Tinkerbell headed straight for him. He didn't seem afraid or worried that the small fairy had become a projectile headed straight toward his face. Of course, any sort of fear was unnecessary. Right as it seemed that Tinkerbell had no choice but to slam into Peter Pan's nose, she stopped. She hovered directly in front of Peter Pan's face.

"Hello." Whispered Peter Pan as softly as he could.

"Hi!" Screamed Tinkerbell at the top of her lungs.