It was a gloomy morning when they decided to resume their journey to the jetty. Gwen massaged her ankle and stretched. Just thinking about sitting on the back of the bike made her legs cramp. She exited the shack clutching Peter's jacket in her arms. She spotted him sitting atop the parked bike, his gaze distant, twirling the metal pendant in his hand.

He was so out of it; he did not even notice her come up to him. She crept up behind him and plopped his jacket on his shoulders. Peter jerked, gripping the jacket that almost slipped and Gwen's hand in reflex.

"Very unlike you to get shocked like that," Gwen said as he let her hand go and she walked around the vehicle to face him. He slipped his arms into the jacket and dropped the pendant under his shirt.

"Just thinking," he averted his gaze.

Gwen frowned and cradled his hand. "What's wrong?" His hand twitched under her touch and he pulled away.

"Nothing."

"Oh, no. I'm not settling for that answer. Tell me. I'm done with us keeping secrets. I tell you everything, why can't you?" Gwen pushed, tired of his evasiveness.

He turned his gaze back to her. His eyes were sullen, a dull green. He probably did not sleep last night, but there was an agitation in his demeanor.

"You tell me everything?" He echoed her statement.

"What? I- Yeah, I guess," Gwen replied.

He tilted his head down, casting a shadow over her face. Blonde wisps of hair fell over his eyes as they implored her.

"Am I nothing more than a repentance to you?" The words came out a little harsher than intended. Gwen winced.

"What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with the situation at hand," Gwen said exasperated, however it was a diversion. She was surprised by the question. And truthfully, she was afraid of the answer.

"Yes, it does. Because- "he cut himself off, looking away.

"Why are you so gun hold on that? It doesn't matter..." Gwen said, but immediately regretted. This conversation was playing out terribly.

"Maybe because... I feel all you see when you look at me is your sister."

"I do not! And you have no right to say that in the first place!" Gwen snapped, she suddenly felt defensive at the mention of her sister.

Peter frowned, there was a strange desperation in his eyes, as if he was waiting for the words he wanted to hear.

"Then what do you see? A pitiful boy? Or your sister's murderer?"

Gwen's eyes widened. "What is wrong with you?! Why are you being like this?" His sudden outburst perturbed her. Was he intentionally triggering her, bringing up her sister like that? She tried to quell the feeling. But the mention of Anna shortened her patience.

"Listen, I'm doing a lot putting up with you. You can't just bring up Anna and not expect me to be okay. What do you want to hear? Yeah, you killed my sister! You're a pitiful boy! You're nothing more than my repentance? Is that it? You want me to make you feel whole lot worse?"

With every word that rolled off her tongue, she knew she would regret them. But she just could not take his negativity. She didn't know what else to do to knock some sense into him.

He stared at her for a few long seconds. A familiar sight of icy walls forming in his expression. He swung his one leg on the other side of the bike and started the engine.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Gwen clenched her fists, biting her lips from saying anything more. She turned on her heel and stomped off. Why was he acting so horrible today?

Belle and Crocker were at the other bike getting ready. "Hey, Crocker. You don't mind if I ride with you today?"

Belle snorted a laugh. "Lovebirds had a fight. Okay, I'll go console the poor boy," she said and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Gwen glared at Belle before she skipped away. She took the helmet with a huff, trying to hide the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. She knew Crocker was staring, she did her best to ignore.

"Don't ask..." She muttered.

"I didn't," was the stoic reply.

She sat at the back and clasped the helmet. Before he revved the engine, Crocker added, "He does care about you."

Gwen's heart lurched in to her throat. She shut the visor to hide her flaming cheeks. She knew he did. But to what extent?

--------------------------------

The jetty was as abandoned as the shack they spent the night in. They reached by late noon, the sun glaring above their heads. A bunch of little shops and stalls, battered and empty, littered the area. Stretching out into the open sea, a rotting wooden jetty clung to the shore.

There were small speedboats lined along the shore, all in the same terrible condition except for one. Gwen presumed it was theirs. It was more of a mini yacht rather than a speedboat. Nothing too fancy to attract attention, but amongst the array of deceased speedboats it looked like a cruise.

Gwen felt eyes on her. She stole a glance at Peter's direction. He quickly averted his gaze. They were still fighting, apparently. She had replayed his questions repeatedly in her head the entire ride. It kept boiling down to the same thing. What did he mean to her? She knew it was wrong to keep avoiding the elephant in the room. Was she afraid of the answer?

As they all made their way towards the jetty, discarding the bikes, they had not made it past the array of shops when Peter stopped them.

His eyes darted around, soon Crocker noticed something was off too. He slid his rifle into his hands. There was silence, tense horrifying silence. Gwen strained her ears for any sounds, but she heard none. There wasn't even a bird's cry.

"Croc, four-a-clock," Peter said, and instantly the two of them pulled Gwen and Belle down as a bullet zipped over their heads. Belle cursed aloud.

They involuntarily scattered, more shots were fired. Crocker had locked his rifle and begun targeting the assailants. Gwen ran to the nearest shop, the rickety wooden door as good as disintegrated. She slammed into a barrel of fishing rods and tripped over them. Her sprained ankle screamed. She gripped the cement walls and hoisted herself up. Breathing heavily, she heard the rapid gunfire.

Who were these people? The police? She doubted they would be in possession of firearms. Through the gritty window, she could make out figures in black outfits. Special ops? Who would call the special ops on them. The gangsters they got into a fight with? Impossible.

She heard a clatter. Her muscles tensed ready to make a run for the door. However the sharp pain in her foot slowed her down. A hand grabbed her arm and another clamped over her mouth. Her scream muffled, a leering voice spoke in her ear.

"Good to see you too, Gwen," James greeted.

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A/N: Hey there, Lost Boys. Sorry for the late update I've been terribly busy this month with classes starting and all that. I'll try to get another chapter out this month! So stay tuned!

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