A/N OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY! I FORGOT I HADN'T UPDATED! FOR SOME REASON I THOUGHT I'D POSTED EVERTHING! TO MAKE UP FOR MY BRAIN GLICH, I'LL GIVE U 3 CAHPPIES AT ONCE!

Peter awoke slowly. The last thing he could remember was being hit in the head with something heavy. Looking around, he realized that the room he was looked like an old time prison cell. The only thing inside it was the bench he was sitting on. Further exploration was ruled out by the fact that his hands were bound tightly to the bars behind him. Where am I? What happened? Is Rebecca ok? This is probably those awful people that were trying to kill her. Is there a possibility of getting out of this? If there is, all I need to do is to stay calm, that's the best thing right now. Oh g-d that's harder than it sounds. Peter's mind was going wild with questions.

Suddenly, a searing pain rushed through his head and lingered that made him wish he was still unconscious. That's when he remembered he'd been hit over the head with something heavy, and boy did it hurt. He wanted to think logically about possible courses of action, but his head hurt too much, so he just sat there, in extreme pain, wondering where this was going to take him. "He's awake." Two men entered, and the first one noticed, correctly, that though Peter's pain level was sky rocketing, he was, in fact, awake.

"I see that, hey, boy, we're going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them for us, alright?" said the taller of the men, who seemed to have more expertise and control then the other one. "First off, do you know Rebecca Marlowe?"

"No, I don't." Peter managed to say these words, hoping that by lying, he could save her life.

"Alright, so you don't mind if we kill her then?" asked the shorter man.

"I don't think what I say will impact you, seeing as I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, so I don't think that it matters if I mind." Hatred deeper than Peter had ever felt, even then that which he felt for the witch was filling him.

"So that's a no?"

"It's an it-doesn't-matter-so-will-you-stop-asking? If you really want to know, I'd rather that you not kill anyone, but I don't have a say in your actions." His words were far braver than he felt, and in saying them, he gained absolutely no confidence that he and Rebecca would both end up alive.

"I wouldn't be so smart; I could kill you right now." The taller man pulled out a gun, and pointed it at Peter's head.

"But you're not going to." Peter managed to pull his pain under control just long enough to see tat it was a possibility that these men were going to get to Rebecca through him, and if he was dead, it would have all been a waste of time.

"How do you know that? Do you think that I'm too scared to shoot you?"

"No, I just think that you're not done with me yet, you must have a reason for having me here, and I don't think that I've completely fulfilled that reason yet."

"What is you have?" asked the shorter man.

"Then I guess I'm dead." Peter kept a straight face, though he had no idea how. The two men looked angry, but the gun was put away. "Did you want anything else?"

"Yeah, how special is she to you?" asked the tall man.

"Who?" asked Peter, knowing very well who they meant.

"Rebecca Marlowe."

"Who's that?" asked Peter.

"You're girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about."

"Listen, stop pretending, we know that you are the person that she cares the most about, so just give it up." The taller man looked straight into Peter's eyes, and Peter looked away. He knew that he could be read by his eyes, and he didn't want to be read right now.

"It's a charade, I only spend time with her because she's lonely, and my friend is dating her friend, and they didn't want her always tagging along, she means nothing to me."

"Then why aren't you making eye contact?"

"I'm not making eye contact because I don't respect you, and I don't want to make any un-necessary connections with you."

"Boy, look at me." The man grabbed Peter's face, and forced him to look at him. "You love her."

"What makes you say that?" asked Peter.

"I can read your eyes like a book." The game was up, and Peter knew it. From here on in, he was stuck, and all he could think about was how to warn Rebecca so that she could get out before it was too late. The two men left him, and after they were out of eyesight, he began to think vigorously, pushing aside the pain in his head. It came down to the fact that there was no warning Rebecca unless he got out of there. This was a seemingly difficult task, considering the situation. He struggled against his bonds, but they were tight, and near immoveable. After a few minutes, his wrists were bleeding, and there were burns, and cuts all over them.

Well, I already have the cuts, so I might as well keep going, my mild physical pain is nothing compared to her life. He kept working to release himself, and eventually he felt the ropes begin to loosen. By working them a little longer, he was able to release himself. He stood quickly, and suddenly regretted that decision, as pain shot through his head. Knowing what had to be done, he headed towards the front of the room, also barred, so he could see the lock. Picking the lock was going to be his only option, so he thought of any devices he could use. Everything that he had had been taken, his knife, his book, even a letter from a friend in Ireland.

Mental note to always carry a sewing needle in my shoe in the future, if I get out of this. Alright, well, let's see what I have. Peter thought, he was wearing average black shoes and socks, nothing special there, navy blue pants, belt, white shirt, and a gray jacket. He had nothing else. He tried to think of anything that wasn't as useless as it seemed. Shoes, socks, useless! Pants, belt, shirt, jacket usele- wait a minute, belt buckle. That's a thin piece of metal, and it might work. Peter undid the buckle on his belt, and pulled it through the loops. Then he reached through the bars on the bars, and stuck the thin metal from his belt buckle in the lock, and worked it for a little while. He was extremely elated when he heard the faint click of the lock unlocking.

For a moment, he waited silently to see if his motion had been heard by any of his captor, but after a couple minutes of silence, he slid open the door quietly and slowly, and headed out. As he walked, he learned that whatever this place was, it was fairly large, and finding a way out was going to be difficult. The corridors were long, with several cells on each side, all empty save for a bench near the back. "You, stop right there boy!"