A/N: Happy New Year! Sorry for the silence - even I didn't know it was coming until it just kinda happened. Long story short, I had a birthday, during which I had to travel around without technology/focus on life, then there was an endless stream of deadlines, then personal life stuff happened. Hopefully the longer than usual update makes up for it a little - I handwrite all rough chapter drafts, this one ended up being around 13 pages, when usually they're like four at most. Sorry if there are any lurkers who prefer shorter chapters - and thank you guys so much for sticking with me and continuing to review/message even when I'm absent. The idea of people actively checking for updates is pretty surreal to me, but very much appreciated and very flattering/encouraging and it means a lot. And hello to the people who subscribed whilst I was gone!

Tara woke up the next morning feeling decidedly delicate. Then her cheeks burst into flames when she remembered the events of the previous night. With a groan, she rolled over and buried her face into the pillow. She'd really done it. She'd kissed Dwayne. What hit her more than the abject mortification was the relief. Her attractions (and more importantly, intentions) were clearly reciprocated, after all - and she'd have never made a move without a little liquid courage. This had to be a best case scenario, given the circumstances.

The only potential roadblock could be Cat, but the brunette clearly had no issue if her behaviour last night was anything to go by. And to think, Tara had once suspected that Cat and Dwayne were a couple. Now the only issue playing on Tara's mind came in the form of the three remaining Lost Boys. She'd had fun the night before, and they'd seemed to have adopted an attitude of "if she's cool with Cat, she must be okay" - but Tara had no pretences that she wasn't being tolerated, at absolute best. So how had Cat fallen in so deep with them? Especially as such an outsider - being the only Brit, and the only female. From what Tara knew about motorcycle gangs, and guys like the Lost Boys in general, was that to them, girls were "bitches" and their "old ladies" - never members. A girlfriend was rarely seen as such a big part of the group. Hell, guys were mocked for being close to them. "Sister" they called her...and she was sure she'd even heard "wife" slip past Paul's lips. Tara couldn't imagine any of them being so open and almost loving, if she hadn't seen it. Then again, it was clear that all of the Lost Boys shared some kind of pretty deep bond. Maybe she was being misogynistic for thinking that being a chick would exclude Cat. Maybe it really did all boil down to chemistry and personality types.

Heaving a sigh, Tara rolled out of bed and reached for the nearest dress. She made it out of her room in record time, clad in loose-fitting silky black skater dress, ripped tights and clunky black boots, plaiting her hair as she wandered into the kitchenette.

"You were out late last night."

Jumping at her aunt's voice, she spun and smiled innocently "I had fun."

Carolina gave her a long, searching look before nodding with a sigh "Good. I suppose it's better than you locking yourself away in that room, pouring over references or sketches or whatever. There's productivity, and then there's...you."

Tara's eyebrows rose in surprise "Even if I'm with the Lost Boys?"

"Yeah, well, so long as you don't get lost, sweetheart," Carolina sighed, nursing her coffee mug in both hands "View Cat's story as a tragedy, not a romance. Ain't no way that girl didn't give up a future to stay here with that boy of her's. You know I heard her preaching to him about narrative technique in surrealism one night? Sounds all high class when she starts like that, no? Educated."

Tara's own suspicions and curiosity over the couple rose and stirred uncomfortably within her.

"This place isn't the endgame for you, sweetheart," Carolina continued "Don't you forget that when you're out there, with them."

"Dwayne and I aren't Cat and Paul," Tara snorted without thinking, and then winced when she realised her slip-up a fraction of a second later.

"You and Dwayne?"

"They, uh, make fun of us - say we flirt. It's nothing. Just giving the newbie a hard time," she waved a hand dismissively.

"I wondered why you were wearing lipstick."

"I wear lipstick for myself, damnit."

"Like I said, just be careful, Tara. You have something with this art. Don't wanna see you waste it over some douchebag. She wouldn't have wanted that for you," Carolina's voice lost the joking tone it had adopted, her voice quietening just a little.

"...Yeah," Tara huffed, avoiding eye contact.

"I should open the box."

"Huh?" Paul grunted into her shoulder, still half asleep.

"The box. I think it's time," Cat nudged him with her elbow.

"How do you think so hard so soon after sunset, girl?" He groaned, holding her tighter "Ain't natural."

"Said the vampire," she laughed softly "And when do you ever think hard? And don't respond with an innuendo."

"What's the use of immortality if I can't spend a few mindless hours, naked with a chick in my bed?" She could hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

"That, my love, is how you spend half of your life."

"And I aim to keep it that way."

"Don't worry, I'd hate to interfere with your strict regime," she snickered.

A few moments of silence passed, during which she was very aware of Paul shifting every so often behind her - tell-tale signs that he was waking up and his brain kicking into gear. When he broached her original topic again, Cat was already expecting it.

"You sure it's a good idea?" He sighed, rolling onto his back "You've been a lot better recently. Happier. Don't want all that to come undone."

Cat rolled over to face him, fingertips beginning to trace patterns in the light smattering of chest hair he had.

"Exactly," she nodded, looking up at him "I've been good lately. I can handle it now. Don't worry, love, I won't fall to pieces over some old keepsakes."

His silence told her he wasn't convinced, but she also knew that he wouldn't try to interfere if she really had her heart set on it.

"Okay," he nodded eventually, returning her gaze thoughtfully - although with tired eyes "You wanna do it alone or…?"

"Not really," she admitted "If you don't mind listening to some old memories."

"C'mon, this is me we're talkin' about," he rolled his eyes, skimming his thumb across her cheekbone "How many times have you sat through my woodstock acid trip story, huh?"

"Enough to tell it in my sleep," she admitted "I'm pretty sure David'll beat you to death with the stick you caught if you tell it again."

"Jealousy'll do that to a guy," he gave a mock-sigh "Very good year...I can think of a better one, though."

Cat laughed openly at that "Oh please, you're just happy to have a guaranteed lay."

"Guaranteed?" His eyebrows rose "Babe, I hate to break it to you, but you're kinda high maintenance."

"Fuck you!"

"Speaking of which, I wonder what happened with Dwayne and your little friend last night," his tone lost a little of it's lightness, and some of the groggy haze cleared from his eyes.

"Let's hope she lived to tell the tale," Cat wondered in hindsight if it had been a good idea to leave Tara alone with her brothers.

"If he's wise, she didn't...which probably means she's fine."

With a soft laugh of agreement, Cat hid her relief "C'mon, I want to get this opened and out of the way before the rest get up."

After they ensured they were at least half-dressed, Paul helped her drag the box into the alcove, before closing the curtains behind them again and settling back down beside her, the box lying on the mattress. Cat held back an amused laugh at the dubious look he was sending it. Anybody would have thought it contained monsters. Monsters would probably scare her less, though. Trying massively to calm the shaking of her hands, she carefully cut open the tape with her Bowie knife (an anniversary gift from Paul one year - she still remembered the hell that was practising how to use it with David). After cutting through the tape, and then the thick layer of bubble wrap inside the box, she took a quiet breath in at what she saw.

"Cool," Paul blinked as she pulled out the bundle of dark green and purple tartan.

"It's kind of an heirloom," she explained softly, shaking it out to show him the tattered, barely legible label on the inside of the shawl "The firstborn son gets a knife when he turns twenty-one, the girl gets this...Or, well, got this, I suppose. It ends with me."

Pulling it somewhat awkwardly around her shoulders, Cat was jarred at the sudden onset of familiarity. Standing so that she could put it on properly, she continued her story - unsure if she was even talking to Paul or herself at this point.

"I used to try it on in her mirror in her bedroom all the time," she murmured.

Cat was shorter and a little slimmer than previous women in her family, so it drowned her just a tad in comparison to them - but she still loved it. The longest parts of the shawl stopped just above her knees, and the tartan was cozy, warm and smelled of her old life. It was surreal, having her two worlds collide in the form of a box - although not quite as shocking as when her brother had appeared in Santa Carla.

"You okay?" Paul pulled her from her memories, and she realised she'd been standing there on the mattress in vacant silence.

"Let's keep going," she nodded, sitting back down.

In the end, she wasn't surprised the box had been so damned heavy. Jamie had been surprisingly thoughtful in preparing the box, even despite his suspected resentment. The parcel contained some of her mother's old punk vinyls, tapes from Cat's own collection (in fact, she was surprised at the amount of her own belongings in there. Probably stuff he couldn't have snuck away without drawing attention.), a couple of photo-albums, old jewellery - some meaningful, some not - random pieces of clothing belonging to either her or her mother...and then a stack of papers at the very bottom. Cat's heart sank at the post-it on the front in Jamie's hand. "She wrote these to you, afterwards - J x".

"Shit," she sighed, eyeing the rather impressive stack of folders and large, padded envelopes.

"What is it?" Paul asked, looking ready to brace himself for tears.

"Five years worth of grieving, I suspect," she sighed bleakly, dropping the bundle to the mattress "Let's get ready for tonight."

At first he looked like he might pursue the topic, but then eventually nodded, pulling her to him for a slow, soft kiss before she could move. That, at least, cheered her up a little.

Twenty minutes later, the cave had come alive.

"I don't get it," Marko shrugged, messing with his hair in a shattered mirror full-length they kept.

"Don't get what?" Dwayne grunted from the sofa, still in the process of waking up.

"The chick, man," he rolled his eyes "Why her and not the hundreds of other girls on the boardwalk every night? This ain't a Cat and Paul kinda thing is it? I dunno if I can deal with two pairs of you trying to make me puke at every turn."

"Hell no," Dwayne snorted, rubbing at his eyes "I'd have felt it...You think you wouldn't know if it was like that?"

"Had to ask," Marko shrugged again "And that ain't a real answer."

"There's a lot to be said for familiarity," Cat piped up, looking between the two of them as she caught the ass-end of their conversation.

Dwayne hadn't really spoken to Cat about what had happened. She was sure he'd have been a lot more inclined to seek out some kind of blessing if she hadn't whispered "if you don't screw her, I will!" jokingly in his ear before she took off with Paul the night before. Other than that, she hadn't commented on it too much, either - at least not to anybody other than Paul. In all honestly, she pleased to have another girl around, and that Dwayne clearly felt the same way, even if for different reasons. It would've made it two against three if the others had decided they disliked her. Luckily, they seemed to like her...or at the very least, they were amused by her. With the Lost Boys, that was a good start, even despite Paul's distrust.

"How would you know, little miss 'tried to have a fling, got married instead'?" Marks smirked at her.

"Hey, bro, don't blame her - she has no way of knowing I'm just a naturally phenomenal screw," Paul chimed in, a wolffish grin on his features.

"David, can I talk to you?" She chose to wisely ignore what was no doubt the beginning of a bickering session between Marko, Dwayne and her beloved "husband".

Amusement fizzled from the blond's face, and he followed her wordlessly to the alcove.

"I need a favour," she sighed somewhat reluctantly once out of the way of the others, noticing how his eyes flickered to the box, but betrayed nothing.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he shrugged, interest clear in his voice.

"Take these," she lifted the bundle from the mattress "And only let me read 'em if you think I'm ready for it."

"Contents private?" He asked, accepting them easily.

"Very private. Potentially traumatising, even," she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets "I, uh, defer to your judgement. I trust you."

David nodded, and surprised her by patting her shoulder with his free hand.

"Why me?" He asked, stopping her as she made to move away "I mean, why not Paul? Seems the obvious candidate.'

"You're less biased, more stubborn...less susceptible to sexual bribery."

Such open, blunt affection as Cat had just displayed was uncommon between the Lost Boys, but it made David in particular uncomfortable - which was why she joked, instead of commenting on the fact that he looked a little flattered.

"Touché," he chuckled "C'mon, let's go. I'm starving."

Tara ended up settling down in a booth with some art supplies as Carolina took the afternoon shift. Every time the doors chimed open, she glanced up to see if it was a Lost Boy, which earned her aunt's concerned gaze every time. When the Lost Boys did eventually appear, it was all together, snickering at a joke Marko was wrapping up. Her eyes skimmed over them, noting Cat's colourful shawl, the oddly good mood David looked to be in...and the way Dwayne was staring at her, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes flickered to Carolina, then he chuckled a little, nodded at Tara in greeting, and slid into the booth beside his friends.

"Tara!" It was then that Cat caught sight of her, waving her over with a small, knowing smile "Join us!"

She glanced down at her paints, very aware of Carolina's proximity.

"Dwayne, don't just sit there," apparently no mood was good enough to eliminate David's mockery "Help the lady with her things!"

"Chivalry is truly dead," Cat joined in the teasing, sending Tara a genuine smile, which took the edge off of the teasing.

"Hey!" Paul protested "What about me?"

"You killed it," Dwayne deadpanned, earning a chorus of snickers as he stood from the booth.

Apparently she didn't have much of a choice in joining them. She followed Dwayne's example, standing from the booth, before handing him anything that didn't require extreme care or caution (and ignoring the smirk that remained on his face). Even so, she was surprised at the great care he showed what she'd given him to carry for her, and slid into the booth once everything had been gently set down on the new table. Dwayne slid in beside her, sandwiching her between himself and David.

"New stuff to sell?" He asked, gesturing to the miniature half-finished portrait of Marilyn Monroe, which she intended to attach to a necklace at some point.

"Cool hobby," Marko nodded, although his inspection of her work was more dismissive than Dwayne's.

Cat and David both eyed the work-in-progress with interest - although David's was more begrudging than Cat's - and Paul didn't bother.

"I wanted to go to art school back home - dad wasn't willing to support," she shrugged "Carolina figured I could make myself a quick buck or two."

"Maybe you can rescue me from these philistines," Cat joked.

"Have you studied?" Tara asked, tilting her head "It's free over in the UK, right?"

"Literature. Dropped out to move here," Cat's tone was casual, but suddenly her movements became a little wooden, her shoulders hunched "Was fun. Opened my mind to some good books."

Paul seemed to be able to look anywhere but at his girlfriend, and the relief was visible on Cat's face when Carolina chose that moment to appear.

"Good evening gents, ladies," she greeted brightly, although the look in her eye was analytical "You ready to order?"

"Oooh, my kingdom for a mocha and a chocolate croissant!" Cat smiled sweetly, earning one in return.

"Just two dollars, Cat," Carolina joked a little, making note.

"Happens to be roughly what my kingdom's worth," the Brit quipped with a crooked grin, earning a snicker or two from the booth.

The boys all ordered simple coffees, and Tara waved a hand to signal that she was fine, oddly nervous about her aunt's departure because she knew it would signal the start of real conversations on real topics - such as the previous night. She was all too aware of Dwayne's presence at her left.

"Feeling a little rough today, Tara?" David asked brightly.

"How's the memory?" Paul smirked, earning a quiet laugh from Cat, who sat directly across from her.

"I'm fine," Tara snorted "And so is my memory."

"Just fine? Dwayne, I'm disappointed," Cat teased, earning an eye-roll from her victim.

Dwayne shifted a little "Well, y'know what they say. Live and learn...practise makes perfect...all that good shit."

Tara snickered, almost fucking up a detail in her painting as the rest nodded in mock-respect of his comeback.

"You got any plans tonight?" Cat questioned once the laughter died down.

"I wanna go look at the missing person's board, actually," Tara admitted, setting down the paintbrush she'd just finished cleaning.

She jumped at the choked noise that seemed to involuntarily escape Cat's throat, but it was Paul who responded first.

"Why?" He frowned at her.

"I have an idea for a...bigger scale project. A statement piece. It's not all clothing and jewellery," she joked weakly, earning no laughs.

"And what statement is that?" David asked, his mocking tone all too familiar at this point.

There was a brief pause as Carolina returned with their food, which Tara was grateful for because it allowed her time to gather her thoughts and wonder why something as stupid as an art project had suddenly soured the atmosphere.

"The statement…" she began after her aunt's departure "I guess, would be that so many faces pass on that board every day, even just since I got here, that we don't even notice anymore. We don't think. Hell, it's almost a cute little quirky landmarks for tourists at this point. I want to make people notice them. Tell their stories."

It sounded good in her head, but the Lost Boys looked less convinced than ever.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Cat's voice was soft after a very awkward silence.

"Why not?" Tara blinked in surprise.

"You're dredging up a lot of pain for a lot of people, for the sake of an art project," she pointed out, picking at her croissant "These are their lives."

"The best art comes from darkness. It's why art exists," Tara shrugged, keeping the defensiveness from her tone as best she could.

"Yes, but it's not your darkness, is it?" Cat ground out.

"It wasn't Steven Spielberg's pain when he made Schindler's List. Or James Cameron's with Titanic. It's irrelevant," Tara gave a laugh that sounded forced, even to her own ears.

"Okay, Spielberg," Cat muttered, prompting a rather obnoxious laugh from Paul and a chuckle from Marko, which only annoyed Tara more.

"...Anyway," she continued after nobody else spoke up and Cat went back to pulling apart her croissant "I figured I'd look at the board, get a few photos...maybe see if the town library or something has any public records. I'm just gathering sand to make a sand castle right now."

"Well, good luck with that," Paul muttered, his tone bored as he squeezed Cat's shoulder.

The atmosphere around the table was unlike one she'd ever felt around the Lost Boys before. At home? Definitely. But not here.

"You were asking if I had plans," she coughed uncomfortably.

"We're gonna catch the gig on the boardwalk tonight," Dwayne chose to answer for Cat, who suddenly seemed to only be interested in her 'dinner' and Paul, but the tension did ease a little with the change of topic "Figured we'd invite you to come along...Plus, if you want, I'll go with you to the board or library or whatever...show you around, give you a local's point of view."

It didn't escape her notice that Dwayne's eyes met Cat's across the table when he made his second offer.

"Uh...Okay, sure," she nodded, not knowing what to make of any of it "I'll just go grab my things."

Dwayne let her out of the booth and she left for the apartment, supplies in hand, and very aware of how the table burst into hushed whispers the moment she was adequately out of earshot.

"This isn't good," Cat said, watching the girl retreat.

"You two need to play it cool," David spoke somewhat sternly to her and Paul "More you react like that, higher potential it'll bite you in the ass."

Cat nodded in resignation - there was no arguing with David when he became all business like this. In any case, he was right. She'd panicked, and she'd allowed it to get the better of her. Then, of course, her panic had fuelled Paul's, and it had all gone downhill from there.

"Dwayne, you good to keep tabs on where she goes with this? Maybe run a little interference, should the need arise?" The de-facto leader continued.

Dwayne nodded without hesitation. With a sigh, Cat drained her mug and pushed what remained of her croissant towards Paul. He accepted it with his right hand, whilst using her left to grip her hand under the table reassuringly. No amount of reassurance would convince her that everything hadn't just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

Everything seemed to return more or less to normal once Tara returned with her jacket and bag, and they left for the Boardwalk venue - although she noticed that Paul and Cat were a little more insular than usual, with Cat being ever so slightly frosty, and Paul sending her the odd frown. It might have troubled Tara, if she wasn't so distracted by Dwayne's presence. In the back of her mind, she'd been worried that he may regret the events of the night before after some sleep and sobriety. It happened to the best - hell, she'd done it to some poor bastard before. His smirk had suggested otherwise, although it was possible that he was worried she had the same regrets. Repressing a sigh, she glanced towards him as he stood to her left. This was getting ridiculous. With a cheeky smirk, she kept her eyes on the stage before leaning towards him and giving him a light, playful nudge with her shoulder. Once she chanced a look at him, she was met with a playful look which matched her own before he nudged her back. So everything was sunny on that front, at least.

Tara almost wanted to ask him what was up with Cat, but refrained. He was Cat's brother before he was her potential friend-with-benefits, of that she had no doubts. Word would inevitably reach Cat if she was less than incredibly careful in her line of questioning.

"I'll go get drinks - beer?" He asked during the too-long guitar solo in the middle of the set.

"Yeah, thanks," she nodded, grabbing a crumpled dollar from her bag, which earned her an amused eye-roll as he walked away without accepting it.

Once he'd disappeared into the crowd behind them, Tara watched in surprised relief as Cat gently removed Paul's arm from her waist before approaching.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she leaned in a little, raising her voice over the guitar "It uh...hit a nerve. Ancient, historical landmine shit - wasn't anything personal."

"Oh, I...Uh, I see," Tara nodded, surprised by her frankness, but finding the sheepishness on the girl's face too endearing to question her.

"Keep me up to date on it," Cat shrugged, and Tara noticed how Paul looked towards them for a few moments, as though checking up on them.

Very odd. Whatever it was, Cat seemed unfazed by it, and lingered beside her.

"I will, don't worry about it," she turned her attention back to the Lost Girl with a smile, glad that the blip was seemingly over "So what do you think of the band?"

"I think they need to branch out beyond those three chords, and stop wearing their sisters' jeans," Cat snickered, nodding at Dwayne when he returned "I'll leave you guys to it."

Shaking her head when Dwayne offered one of the beers in his hands, she smirked at the two of them "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

With that, she was back at Paul's side - who'd chosen to amuse himself by tricking Marko into thinking the stranger behind him kept tapping his shoulder when he wasn't looking. Tara gave it two more times (if Paul remained uncaught) before it came to blows. Upon realising that Cat was back by his side, his eyes skimmed over Tara, before moving to Dwayne where they lingered as he frowned a little. It was starting to look like it wasn't Cat with the problem. Carolina's warning sprang unbidden, but still fresh, to her mind. "There's no way that girl didn't give up a future for him." How much truth was there to her aunt's theory? Tara shifted uncomfortably, taking a sip of her beer.

"You wanna go look at the board?" Dwayne asked, leaning in close to avoid yelling.

The Boardwalk would be crazier than usual once the gig let out, and she had very little desire to see the brawl about to break out in front out them. Overall, leaving early seemed wise, and it meant she'd be alone with Dwayne.

"Lead the way," she gestured, allowing him to clear a path in front of her through the crowd, gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket to avoid separation.

They only spoke properly once they were free of the crowd, intact, with beers mostly unspilled.

"What happened back there with you n' Cat?" He asked casually.

Not the topic she'd been expecting.

"She was apologising. Felt bad about earlier."

"Typical Cat," he nodded, unsurprised "Never stays mad long without good reason. Hell, not with good reason. Girl'd apologise for global warming if she felt the need."

"What do you think of the project?"

Although undeniably pleased by the apology, Tara wasn't convinced that Cat was truly supportive of the project - just selective of her battles and eager to keep the peace. Maybe that was how one survived with the Lost Boys. The lack of support didn't bother her too much though (at least not if it wasn't going to interfere with any friendships). It was part of art - she'd rather create something that everybody hated, rather than something that inspired nothing but indifference. Dwayne was looking at her thoughtfully.

"Why do you want my opinion?" He asked eventually.

"Well, I'll admit that it's not as hot as your body," she teased with a smirk "C'mon, man, that's such a cop-out. I'm a big girl, Dwayne. I promise not to cry too much if you don't like my ideas."

"I've been a big fan of some of them," he offered and she laughed, elbowing him gently.

His face turned thoughtful once more and he bit the inside of his cheek before sighing heavily "Honestly, I get the idea, and I guess the fact that you want to pay homage to Santa Carla's lost is..uh...sweet?"

He didn't sound too sure, but continued on anyway "But that's all in theory. Really? Everyone'd just rather not be reminded."

"From your perspective."

"Hell, doll, not just mine."

"Cat's, then? Has she...lost someone?" She asked before she could stop herself.

So much for tact.

"It was just her rather, uh, strong reaction," she quickly elaborated when he directed a frown in her direction.

"Nah, Cat's cool," he shook his head casually "Just sensitive at times."

"And Paul?"

She may as well continue digging whilst she was on the topic, shovel in hand.

"What about Paul?"

"He keeps looking at me like I crapped in his cereal."

The Lost Boy laughed openly at that, shaking his head "You're paranoid."

"I'm not!"

"He's protective of his girl - nothing more, nothing less," he shrugged her protests off "Here we are - Santa Carla's purgatory."

Tara hadn't even realised they'd reached the board. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the faces on it - men and women of every age and race - although there was a noticeable lack of children. That, at least was a relief, especially when she played with the idea of Emma visiting sometime. Overall, though, the whole display chilled her to the goddamn bone...Although her recent associations with the Lost Boys admittedly made her feel a little safer. It was clear that not many messed with them.

"So who do you think is responsible?" She asked, pulling her camera from her back to grab a few quick shots of the board.

"I look like a cop?" He eyed her curiously.

"No, you look like a local. C'mon, there must be some kind of local folklore...Even just a theory. Who's responsible? A group? One, very busy, person?" She pushed, focusing more on the project at hand than him in that moment.

"Nothing so sinister," Dwayne shrugged slowly "Think about it. People come to town, see that shit all is done to stop this kinda stuff and figure 'when in Rome'. High crime rates'll make others more likely to turn to it - our lovely home is the child of mob mentality, and a lack of consequences."

Tara hummed in agreement. It made sense - Dwayne definitely had a good head on his shoulders. Although she was somewhat disappointed with the answer, somewhat bored by it in comparison to the idea of there being one sole culprit with a hidden motive.

"So nobody's ever been questioned in suspicion of any of this?" She continued to question him amidst "clicks" of her camera.

Click. Click. Click.

"Not as far as I know. Police department here is practically non-existent. But I never considered that it might just be down to one person. There's gotta be too many people up there for that, right?"

Click.

"I guess," Tara conceded "Just brings less of a...plot to the whole thing, no?"

Click. Click.

"Plot?" The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in amusement.

"Yeah," she nodded, lowering the camera and turning the brunt of her attention to the Lost Boy "Y'know, like in the detective shows they've always got a specific bad guy at the end, you find out why all of the people died, etcetera."

"Real life don't work that way," he shrugged, eyes scanning across the board indifferently "In any case, Santa Carla would be more of a horror movie than a detective show...Maybe it was vampires."

With a scoff at his teasing, she returned her camera to her bag "Your tinfoil hat tell you that? I'll never live down those stupid comics, will I?"

"Unlikely."

"At least you're honest," she sighed, spending a last moment or two inspecting the board, arms crossed "Where next?"

"Well," he began with a small shrug "We could go to the library, where we'll need to be real quiet and spend god knows how long going through dusty old papers that even the sorry bastards who wrote them didn't care about."

"Very tempting when you put it like that," she remarked dryly "But I sense an 'or'."

"Or we could buy some booze, find a nice scenic spot to drink it in and talk."

"Doesn't seem like that should be a tempting offer considering where I'm standing," she gestured to the faces belonging to the latest group of missing people.

"Still is though, right?"

She had no idea that a smile could be endearing and suggestive at the same time.

"...Yeah," she gave in, laughing at the smugness on his face.

They chit-chatted casually whilst they got the drinks sorted and began wandering down the beach, looking for the 'scenic' spot that Dwayne had promised. In the end, they settled down at the line of trees that formed the beginning of the wood, the only light offered coming from the moon and from through the sliding glass doors that belonged to the hotel a few meters away. Folding her legs beneath her in the sand, she couldn't help but laugh at the curious look he'd fixed her with.

"You know, stare hard enough and you'll burn a hole in my skull," she joked to hide her slight discomfort at being so openly analysed.

"Hey, it'd let me get a read on you," he seemed completely unbothered at being caught staring, posture relaxed as he leaned against a tree trunk.

"Oooh, are you calling me a mystery?" She snickered.

"You move here out of the blue, get Cat's seal of approval within days, and the only thing I know for sure about you is that your ex is kinda a little bitch," he explained "Y'know, besides the fact that you're hot. Which you're very aware of."

Apparently when he'd suggested they find a place to drink and talk, he hadn't been using "talk" as some kind of euphemism. She tried not to let her surprise show, making herself comfortable.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Not bad?" He echoed, amused "Best review I ever got."

"Oh please," she laughed, nudging him with her leg "At least half of the girls in this town would climb you like a tree - you know it, and you love it."

He shrugged at that as if to say "Well I can't argue," and took a swig of his beer before turning to her with a slight mischievous glint in his eye "You count yourself amongst that number?"

"No. That's why I had my tongue down your throat less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Hey, like I said, you're a tough one to read. Don't worry though, it just adds to the whole 'scary but sexy' thing you do."

"That's a relief," she nodded in mock-seriousness, ignoring the burning sensation in her cheeks.

One thing she'd noticed all of the Lost Boys had in common was their bluntness. It had a quality of "hell, we all know it, so I'll go ahead and say it". For the most part it was refreshing - and Dwayne's own personal brand of it happened to be a hell of a lot more charming than, say, David's.

"I scare you?" Her lips stretched into an amused smile "The bad-ass biker dude?"

"Poor choice of words," he admitted, snorting at her description of him "I don't scare easy. You're an intense chick, though."

"And we haven't even screwed yet," she cooed, if only to avoid giving a genuine reaction to his words.

Another laugh - a real one this time, not a quiet chuckle or a suppressed snicker - it was deep, warm and Tara had to fight back a soft smile at the sound of it. This wasn't a date, after all.

"I didn't mean like that," he shook his head "You realise I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen you without some kind of project in your hands? Something to work on? You sell your stuff cheap, too, and they sell slower than you make 'em, so it can't all be about the cash. That leaves genuine passion, which explains the work ethic, but what it doesn't explain is how you got it. There's gotta be a story there."

Tara had always been a fan of aestheticism - although that wasn't to be confused with vanity. She supposed it was the artist in her demanding yet another outlet...or the control freak. There was just something about crafting her image and how people saw her that appealed to her, and so she was meticulous with it. Often compliments on her appearance didn't affect her too much because of this - she saw them as a sign that she was doing her job right. For Dwayne to appear, spend some time observing her and to come out with this - something about herself that she didn't think anybody noticed - was jarring. Not only that, but it wasn't a physical compliment.

New York City went hand-in-hand with cat-calls, which majorly sucked, but was something that most people eventually became desensitised to. One particular consequence of this was that physical compliments started to become less "aww" inducing, and more irritating. Sure, she'd take it in a much better way from Dwayne than from a stranger, but honestly? After a while they stopped meaning much. Maybe if she struggled with her self-esteem it might, but she didn't. Anything like that had always seemed like a waste of time to her - probably one of the most important lessons she'd learned from her mom. In any case, it was rare for Tara to receive compliments based on her actions. Usually people would see her work and comment on her "talent" and how they wished they'd been "born with such a skill". Now that pissed her off. She'd spent years working hard to improve, and they'd waltz in and assume it was a fluke. That sort of dismissiveness was just awful - although it didn't help that they'd then go on to ask her what she was going to do when she needed a "real" career.

Not only had this damned biker "gangster" noticed what nobody else had bothered to look for, and what she prided herself in most, but he admired it and wondered how it came to be. Tara didn't know whether to be touched, or irritated. Things like this made it hard to force detachment.

"You've, uh, you've thought about this a lot," she blinked.

"I got a lot of time on my hands," he shrugged, unfazed at her remark.

Any guy she knew back home would've been embarrassed or offended at the comment, paired with a rush of need to prove his masculinity.

"So the story behind the work ethic," he prompted her again, returning to his original point.

"Not one you want to hear," she grunted stubbornly.

"The term is 'friends with benefits', y'know," he teased "This is how you make friends, doll."

"By boring you to death with the sob story that brought me here?" She asked dubiously.

"I promise not to cry."

Tara sighed, eyes fixed on the waves lapping at the shore and the way the moonlight bounced off of them - if only so she could ignore the open curiosity on his face.

"Sooner you tell me, sooner we can have some real fun, 'cause I ain't giving up with this one."

"If this is your idea of foreplay, you have some really messed up kinks," she muttered before groaning "Fine. But don't tell me you're sorry. Or that you 'can't imagine what I've been through'. Anything in that vein, and I swear I'll leave."

"Good to know," he nodded slowly.

A voice in Tara's head warned her that with this one story, she could very well go from being viewed as "sexy, scary and driven" to "stray puppy in need of a hug, and maybe some charity". If this messed up the odd kind of rapport she'd managed to build with the Lost Boy, she'd kill him for making her tell him in the first place. With that silent promise to herself, she begrudgingly began.

A/N: I wasn't sure whether to include Tara's backstory in this chapter or not, but honestly it would've just been too clunky to tag onto the end, so...next time! Hope you guys liked it.