A/N: This a story based off of the movie 'Haven.' It's my rendition of what happens after the end of the movie. This isn't going to be a Shy/Andrea fiction. For the sole purpose of the movie's ending, I think it would be awkward to have the two of them back together. So, there will be a new female character introduced in future chapters. Just to give some background, this story will be about Shy's journey to leave the island and what he encounters along the way. So, without further ado, I give you the first chapter! Comments would be greatly appreciated :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters associated with Frank E. Flowers' film 'Haven.' I only own the characters whom which I have created myself.

Author: bexi21

Title: Lost in Paradise

Chapter 1

The sea was calm; the air was still. Stars sparkled in the night sky, positioned high above him. And if he looked hard enough, they drew out a pattern…a line of bright lights leading him out of the island.

Here, he was at peace. Here, he wasn't bothered by his mother's cries; nor the sound of the gunshot echoing in his mind. But still it was there. Everything was there. He turned around in his wooden boat, glancing at the small lights of the island and noting how they stood out like fireflies in the night sky.

There was no place left for him here. Andrea would never be with him again and to say that he would have expected the opposite was a lie. But he still loved her and as he stared back to the place that was once his home for the past 21 years, her face…her eyes….everything about her lingered over him, making it almost impossible to leave.

But he had to.

To stay would mean prison, maybe even worse. He killed someone and that meant more time than what Hammer spent for scarring his face….much more time. He was 21 for Christ's sake. His life wasn't ready to just stop here. But if he was going to leave, he'd need money…and that meant going back.

He rowed in silently, the oars hardly making a sound as they skimmed the surface of the dark water. For now, it was best to leave his boat underneath the dock; out of the way of any lights or prying eyes. Already under the cover of his hoodie, he pulled the blue and white bandana up over the bottom of his face. He couldn't risk being seen now.

He moved quickly along the outskirts of the road; his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes cast downward. Blindness couldn't have even stopped him from knowing his way around. He knew every nook and crannie to this island…he could sense them.

He could even sense her place. The lights of her large home glistened brightly out of the corner of his eye. His feet stopped moving and he found himself standing behind a tall bush; his gaze drifting towards her bedroom window. She was surely grieving inside…as she should be. He'd killed her brother…such an act of anger and pain… An unspeakable act that he never thought he would ever commit. But when his finger pulled the trigger, there was no going back. At that moment he knew he lost Andrea. In fact, he was fairly certain that he'd lost her a long time before then.

Still…

Still, he missed her…he loved her. That would never change. But he could never go back to her.

There was no time for lingering, and with a heavy heart, he continued his journey through the ever growing darkness to find his home.

It had looked just liked he'd remembered it; tucked away behind the low branches of the trees. He could make out the windows of his room; facing the front of the one story home. The dark panels that ordained each window, the dried flowers and plants that his mother hung out on the outer walls… The wooden chair that she'd always sit in when the sun was high and its warmth would seep down through the palm leaves…

He did his best, making little sound, as he rushed towards the porch; his back bent low to hide him from anyone inside. And just as he snuck out to see Andrea on that one fateful night, he silently unhinged the panels of his bedroom window and crawled through the opening; chips of white paint rubbing off on his clothes as he moved.

He didn't bother to stop and stare at the pictures of his once girlfriend that ordained his mirror, nor did he bother to look at the dents in the wall where he pounded the phone repeatedly at his anger for her….for himself.

A small duffel bag sat underneath his bed, and that's what his hands found first. He pushed the bandana down and shoved the hood off of his head as he went through all of his drawers, tossing clothes into the black bag. There was money hidden underneath his mattress and he dug in there pulling out the bills and shoving them in the bag as well. No time was wasted; no shelf or surface overlooked.

There was only one thing left that he needed to do…that he had to do. Quietly, he turned the knob of his door and slowly pulled it open.

The light of the small living area peered through. He could hear the muffled sounds of the t.v. playing in the background. And for the rest of his life he would never forget the sight of his mother…sitting in the cushioned armchair; a glass of vodka dangling lifelessly in her hand. Her head was lulled slightly to the side and he could see the glistening of tears, shining in the dim light.

A lone tear slid down his face; slipping past each groove and indentation that the scar left over his skin.

And then it was over. He'd softly closed his bedroom door, grabbed his bag and climbed out of the window once more, replacing the panels to cover his tracks. His eyes scanned the darkness and with one last step from the porch, he turned his back away from his past…from his home forever.

Pulling up his bandana to shield himself in the darkness, he quietly made his way through the front yard only stopping suddenly at the sound of a voice from within the shadows.

"Shy."

His heart pounded within his chest as he stared ahead of him at a dark tree trunk. The shadows seemed to move and the more he stared, the more he saw the outline of his best friend.

Slowly, he pulled the bandana down, holding his breath all the while. "Kimo."

Kimo stared at Shy with grief…with pain… "What are ya doin', mon?"

Shy looked down at the black bag, which fit snuggly in his fist, before shifting his gaze back up to Kimo. "What do you think I'm doin'?"

He didn't say it to be rude. There was no anger in his tone. It was a simple question and one that hardly escaped a whisper through his lips.

Kimo didn't answer him. He didn't have to. The tears that slid down his face said that he already knew this would happen.

"I can't stay here, bro," Shy explained, his heart breaking at the sight before him. "You know I can't."

His friend nodded, quickly wiping away at his eyes with the back of his arm. "I know."

For moments they seemed to stare at one another until finally Shy filled the silence. "Will you help me?"

Kimo didn't waste time in gesturing for Shy to follow him. "Better put ya mask back on, dawg. I can help ya get out but I can't hide ya from da rest of da island."

Shy did as Kimo requested and followed him quickly beneath the stars that veiled the blackness of that night.