Remy's POV:

I decided early on into the walk that I finally had my reasons for liking this guy. He was funny, witty, intelligent, kind and thoughtful. I wasn't any of those, so he basically completed me. As the supposed 'search' started, it was awkward. I didn't say anything and neither did he. I pretended to be peering around suspiciously, faking sudden interests in potential hiding places and then letting my shoulders droop when I supposedly realised the sword wasn't there. I had been keeping this up for a long time, and to be honest I secretly congratulated myself on my superb acting skills, or rather my superb talent in deceiving others. He would never deceive anyone, so I also completed him.

I couldn't see any reason why we shouldn't get on swimmingly.

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was peeking straight back at me. I had to turn away and hold back a very idiotic grin, silently begging the blood in my face not to flood my cheeks. It did anyway, of course. I disapproved entirely at my own bloods disobedience and was having a mini civil war inside my mind when he interrupted the firing cannons.

"Are you okay?"

No. I most certainly was not okay. I was tired, riddled with embarrassment and was in constant worry over what would happen if we didn't find the sword.

"Yeah, fine. You?"

"I'm okay. Is there something you wanted to ask me?"

I stared at him, completely confuddled. He smirked.

I was very fond of that smirk.

"You know, I said you had some explaining to do, and you said I had some explaining to do? So ask."

"But you asked me first."

He smirked again. "Ladies first."

"So you, by all means," I said, smiling sweetly. Two could play at that game.

He laughed. "I'm sure your questions are much more interesting than mine."

I considered this. "You're probably right."

But I couldn't help my mind wandering for a minute. Why did I never say his name? Or even think it?

Guilt, someone said.

I was that someone. There was no use playing dumb to your own mind. It knew you too well. Yes, I was guilty. Sure, I didn't think Peter liked me in that way. But that boy's facial expressions were so hard to categorize into feelings there was a humongous chance I probably misplaced each and every signal. Even when he looked at me, I could never distinguish it as a simple look or a look of longing. My brain felt like it was malfunctioning just from merely thinking about it. I resisted the urge to wipe my forehead. Thinking was a lot of hard work.

"Remy? Can you hear me?" he said, worried at my possibly possessed expression.

Not he. Not he. Not he.

Say it Remy. Say it! No guilt! Say it! No gu –

"I'm fine, Alex," I said, smiling.

There. Said it.

He – Alex – still seemed worried. "Are you sure?"

I smiled again. "Positive. So, I have questions to ask you."

He smiled. "So the Heroine of Neverland opens up to common Irish boy!"

My face dropped. "He didn't."

He made that very adorable whooshing laughing sound out of his nose. "I might have had one too many conversations with Tootles. Mostly about you."

I couldn't help but smile. "Really? You talk about me?"

"He told me everything that happened before, the last time you were here. And look, I'm sorry about – "

I held up a hand. "Don't. You weren't to know. I died, I came back, no hard feelings. The end."

He seemed confused. "What about that man? The one who…who did it?"

I held back a shudder. That man, James Hook, the one who haunted my dreams for months after I went home, who repeatedly murdered me in my unconscious state until I was wide awake. I was on sleeping pills, and the psychologist said the sleepless nights were because of my traumatic experience with my sister dying and my running away. I agreed with him one hundred per cent. I liked him, Dr. Reynolds. He unknowingly made the most perfect excuses for me.

Instead of saying any of this I just stayed silent. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly in total despair. "Sorry, Remy. I shouldn't have asked."

I shook my head. "It's fine. You wanna know what happened to him then? I'll be totally honest, I don't really know. Have you ever talked to Peter about it?"

He shook his head fiercely. "No. Tootles warned me not to. Said it was a touchy subject."

I sighed. "It is. He was there with me when it happened. When James Hook shot me, Peter had just got there. I was on the ground dying and Peter was trying to kill Hook out of bitter rage. I needed to do something, because Peter only had a small knife. So I threw a rock at Hook's head."

Suddenly, it seemed very funny. Remy Kingsley, the great majestic Heroine of Neverland, saved the day by throwing a rock at the bad guys head. I started to snigger. I wasn't at all surprised to see that Alex was sniggering with me.

"I threw – a rock!" I managed, my laughter deteriorating my speech. "I threw a rock at Hook's head!"

After another minute of laughing we were still getting odd bursts of sniggering but I decided it was safe to continue.

"After that," I started again, all laughter disappearing, "Hook got distracted for a second, but a second was all Peter needed. He shoved his knife into Hook's stomach and Hook just about got out of there."

His eyes widened with shock. "You mean you let him go?! You let him get away?!"

I had already gone over this a million times in my mind. That knife went in deep, and his pirate crew were hardly paramedics.

"It's fine," I assured him. "He would have died a slow and painful death. My guess about the body is that his crew probably found him and either tossed him out into sea or buried him. He hasn't appeared anywhere recently, Alex, so I'd say he's as good as gone. Forever."

He didn't seem entirely convinced, but said, "Okay. I trust you."

"You better. Now it's my turn to shine a lamp in your eyes and demand answers."

He held a hand to my face and stuck his nose in the air. "Nope. I ain't answering anything. Unless" – he mimicked propping a pair of sunglasses from his eyes onto his hair – "there's something in it for me."

I flicked his hand out of the way and narrowed my eyes. "What's your flea bargain?"

"I want to know more about you. Your life is surprisingly interesting, Remy Kings –"

He ducked to avoid my flying hand.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "Surprisingly interesting? That's an insult. A pure and total insult. The cheek!" Then I stuck my hand in his face. He tried to protest, but I simply waved it.

"Nope. Not interested."

"Remy," he whined, emphasising the 'y' at the end. "Pleeeease. Pleeeeeeeeeeea –"

"Oh God Fine!" I interrupted. "Cut the insults. Get to the point. Why do you want to know about me? What have I got to offer?"

He took my hand which was still in front of my face and examined it closely. He traced the lines on my palm and put his other hand to his chin, sighing in fake deep concentration.

"These lines tell me that you're an extraordinary girl that has some interesting stories to tell," he said. "And that although you have a certain wittiness about you there is a special place in there somewhere" – he pointed at my heart – "that offers kindness and love, even in its own darkest and most traumatic moments."

He finished and dropped my hand. I stared at him in utter bewilderment.

"Where in the name of the Lord our Father did you come up with that?"

He didn't seem too surprised at my reaction. "Sean has told me a lot of things about you, Remy. A lot of things I wish I could be and do. You're so good to him, you know that? You died and couldn't tell your family or friends, and yet you still pushed your own trauma aside and listened to Sean whenever there was something wrong! And to me, that's pretty amazing."

I couldn't believe it.

"That," I struggled, "Is the most nice, most kind thing anybody has ever told me in my lifetime. Ever. Thank you."

He came over all shy all of a sudden and turned away from me.

"No problem," he muttered, and I saw a sheen of pink spreading across his face.

"Ohhh!" I teased. "He's blushing! He's a little blusher!" I tried to turn him towards me but he ducked away, laughing and trying to remand me. I wouldn't give up and he started shoving me away. We were both in total uncontrollable laughter, slagging each other off and calling each other names of people we thought they would go well with.

"Alright Lucy Hutchinson!" I started.

"Not too bad yourself Jamie!"

"Fine weather isn't it Miss Dempsey!" I retorted, losing all control of my body stance because I was laughing so much. By the end of the match ( which I won) we were both holding onto each other for dear life, tears streaming from our eyes and our knees weakened. After a few minutes there was no more than a few loose giggles here and there.

"Alright Peter," he muttered, and then started laughing again. I didn't laugh with him. Suddenly I wasn't in the mood.

"Sorry," he said quickly.

"Stop apologising!" I pleaded with him. "It's fine…I mean, I did give you Lucy, which is pretty bad…"

He was still fully concerned and my feeble attempts to distract him were clearly wasted. "If you don't mind me asking," he said. "What's going on with you two anyways? Tootles said you were kind of together last time. What about now?"

I sighed and quickly explained to him how we were just 'in the moment' and now we were older and more responsible we didn't feel like that anymore.

"You might not," he said. "But are you really sure about Peter?"

I played dumb. "What?"

He raised his eyebrows, not fooled for a second. "You know what I mean. I've seen the way – the way he kind of stares at you."

This time I really was surprised. "He stares at me?"

He nodded. "Time and time again, when you're either talking to someone or just lost in thought. Did I ever tell you that you're lost in thought a lot of the time?"

I poked my tongue out at him. "I don't need to be told. So…Peter…he really does stare at me? A lot?"

He nodded again. "Yeah. Even sometimes when you're in the tent he just stares at it. Hopefully he can't see through heavy fabric."

I laughed. "You never know. And you've seen all this, have you? Or have you maybe documented it somewhere else in further detail, just so I have the absolute jist of everything?"

For the first time that day, Alex was totally speechless.

"Hey," I said, patting his arm gently. "I'm only joking. Are you okay?"

The speechlessness had faded away as quickly as it had appeared.

"We ask each other that a lot," he said, smiling like an idiot.

And suddenly I was speechless. We did, that was true. But I was happy and unfortunately truly confused. We hadn't been properly talking a day and we already seemed to have a kind of private joke? Was that even humanely possible?

I asked him this.

"I don't think so," he said, amused. "We are clearly inhumane. Just call me Edward Cullen."

I laughed but he interrupted me.

"You never shone a light in my eyes and demanded answers afterwards! I am deeply hurt, Remy Kingsley. What did you want to ask?"

It took me a few seconds to remember. "Oh, yeah. How come you and the guys are staying here? Why don't you just go back home and save your families worrying? Not that I want you to go back, like, or anything."

He grinned. "We took a vote on our first night here. We stayed here and helped you guys or we went home. In fact, I think your beloved Jamie was the only one to vote for home. The rest of the guys and me were totally for here."

I ignored his Jamie jibe. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

He shrugged. "We wanted to. And if Jamie went home he would have to explain to his dear mother where he was, and I think the thought terrified him into submission."

I frowned. "He's going to have to explain some day."

"He likes to put things on hold and hope they get better."

"Ah. The most well known and most common symptom of Wussititous."

He cracked up. "Must've forgot his pills."

We both laughed and then were quiet for a while. We had walked such a long way, yet it hardly felt like it. I didn't really know exactly where we were. The trees had thinned out by now and we were walking on a bare forest floor, but that seemed almost good. The more time we had the better in my opinion.

We talked about silly meaningless things for a while and slagged each other again, but this time treading lightly on certain names. After a fair bit more of playful shoving and hitting we came to a meadow. Across it there was a huge tree just on the outskirts, connecting it to the forest. I saw three small blobs.

"Is that some of the guys?" Alex asked.

"Must be. Which ones though?"

As we (I unwillingly) got closer, I made out a blob of curls on the ground leaning against the tree. Curly. Beside him was undoubtedly Sean. Peter sat in his brown coat (his jeans and hoody he wore back home had mysteriously disappeared) in front of them and all three were staring at us. I felt uncomfortable, but waved at them anyways.

"Any luck?" I called out as we got closer. We were a short distance away enough that I connected with Peter's staring eyes. I couldn't drag my own away from them.

They were too hurt, too fragile, too empty. They broke away from mine and stared at my companion, to which they then filled with hate. He looked at me again before jumping up and walking away just as we were five metres away from them. Curly and Sean were in shock and were staring at Alex and me.

I was staring at the coat on Peter's back, never breaking focus until it too quickly camouflaged in the dense forest.