Hi all! So first, a big thank-you to Smiles-X-Giggles for plot ideas! They really helped me in writing this chapter! Because of that, this chapter is dedicated to you, Smiles-X-Giggles! :)

Hope you all enjoy!

Last Chapter:

Tara grinned, with her friends she would be ready come Friday. "Hell yes," she responded, feeling grateful for her close relationship with her friends.

She was also grateful they hadn't asked to do anything after school today. She had, in fact, agreed to spend time with Gar. During their tutoring session he'd looked so hopeful and, since he was doing an immense favour for her, she thought it wouldn't kill her to spend some time with him. Secretly, of course. She wasn't stupid, she wouldn't risk her reputation for him. Still, it helped that she didn't have to come up with a lie to her friends.

Not So Bad

Tara and Gar walked along the small stretch of sand that largely went unused except for the occasional late-night party. Gar had explained that Tara probably wouldn't want to be at his house. Apparently, his parents were biologists and kept several types of animals at their home-almost like a micro zoo. Gar, correctly guessing that Tara was not a fan of snakes, rats, tarantulas and the like, had recommended they hang out somewhere public-explaining why Tara was out there risking her reputation. Thankfully, the beach was (as she had hoped) currently unoccupied.

Tara was glad to get away from the pressures of her image. She was aware it was her choice to actively remain popular but it could get really annoying sometimes. Especially when a love-sick puppy was chasing her everywhere threatening to topple everything she'd built for herself.

To make matters worse, he was actually a nice guy. He was hell-bent on helping her and informed her of the set-up that he and his friend, Victor, had arranged. Evidently, they found someone willing to date her sister. He was doing his best but, as per usual, nothing was going her way. Gar had told her that, in order for this to have a chance, that she needed to give information on Rachel. Like a Spy.

It was because of that comment that this awkward silence fell upon them. Tara knew that her sister could be difficult (which really made her life difficult) but she still loved her sister. They were family and it felt wrong to go digging for aspects of her personality that she wanted to keep away from others. Furthermore, no longer being close to Rachel, Tara knew the only way to find answers was to go snooping through her sister's things-something she knew Rachel hated. Hell, it was something she would hate too.

"You don't have to, you know," muttered Gar, breaking the silence, "Maybe we can think of something else."

She smiled at him-he really was the sweetest guy she'd ever met. I know this is wrong and if she ever finds out that she'll kill me...but can I really pass up this opportunity? she wondered.

"Dude," squeaked Gar after a moment of thought, "This may not be entirely selfish, you know. Maybe Rachel will be happy with him. She doesn't exactly have to find out all the details of how they got together."

"That...," began Tara, "Is a really good point. Maybe she would actually be happy with him...and, like, maybe they'd have a really good connexion if she gave him the chance."

Gar nodded, "We're just providing the opportunity."

Guilt still clawed away at her, however. A connexion based on a foundation of lies she thought.

Still, the hopeful way Gar was looking at her coupled with the expectations of her friends and the prospect of creating a good thing for her sister prompted her to say, "All right. I'll go through her room and compile a list of things that seem useful. I'll get it to you tomorrow in our free period."

Elated, Gar grinned. Yet he was also consumed by guilt. He suspected that, despite their rocky relationship, Tara would want to protect her sister. Because of this and because he was dying to go out with her, Gar neglected to mention the fact that he and Vic only got Richard to go out with Rachel by paying him.

Changing the topic to a more pleasant one, Gar asked, "Have you heard about the party this weekend?"

"Yes," replied Tara, grateful for the change in subject, "And I really really want to go. I have plans to go with Kori, Courtney and Karen and I'm praying I can convince Rachel to go."

Gar grinned, "It'd be great to see you there."

Tara smiled back at him, feeling another fresh wave of guilt. Not wanting to stay and feel even worse, she stated after a moment, "Hey, I should be getting back if I'm going to go through Rachel's room. I'll need all the time I can get before she gets back from soccer practice."

Giving an enthusiastic nod and completely unaware of her predicament, Gar gave her a last hug before returning to his car (she had insisted they drive separately stating that she needed to get her car home so she could drive herself to school the next day and not with Rachel) and driving off. Frowning, Tara did the same.

"Alright man, let's take a look at this," stated Victor, looking over the crumpled sheet of yellow-lined paper.

Smoothing it out, Vic and Gar leaned over to examine the information on the page. Putting down his shop equipment, Richard made his way over to his workbench, joining them in looking over the new information. He tried to look nonchalant but, in reality, he was incredibly relieved for this. It gave him an edge.

Music posters:

Evanescence, Paramore, Billy Talent, Metallica, Aerosmith, and Angels and Airwaves

A small note underneath read:

Concert tickets to see Coldplay and In This Moment

DVD collection:

Old Boy, Amelie, Raise Ravens, Perfume: Story of a Murderer, Raise the Red Lantern, The American Friend, I'm a Cyborg but that's okay, Chocolat, and Isn't Life a Bitch?

Under the DVDs listed, Tara had written a quick note in her tidy scrawl:

All foreign films-no specific country favoured

Recordings of Jay Leno and Jimmy Fallon-likes a good laugh (?)

Random:

Owns a nice, glass Chess set, prominently displayed

Closet:

A few pretty dresses and...Other things ….things you buy for someone else to see

Books:

Currently reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Strong feminine authors, variety of topics

Many books dealing with mysteries and crime...Owns The Art of War by Sun Tzu

The note was short and, if the last section was any indication, she had run out of time and was unable to write more.

"Dude," Gar supplied, "I got Tara to tell me what the 'other things' were."

Raising an eyebrow, Richard stated, "Well, go on."

"Apparently it's lingerie," stated Gar nervously, "If that helps."

Awkward silence descended on the group as all three were left to their thoughts for a brief moment. Breaking the silence, Richard spoke.

"I can work with this," muttered Richard, his mind on overdrive.

Both Gar and Vic looked at each other and beamed. They had been worried that it wouldn't be enough and yet, it seemed, it would still help.

"We do good work," commented Gar, feeling elated.

Barely listening, Richard was busy formulating a plan. Grabbing the rumpled paper and tearing out of the shop room, he left behind a very confused duo behind.

"It was totally the lingerie," stated Gar, accompanying his statement with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

Hearing a thud near her locker, Rachel turned to the source with a small smile on her face. She wasn't expecting him but, in all honesty, she should not have assumed he was Jinx, either.

Her smile instantly slid into a frown, "It's you."

"Yep," he replied with a grin.

"Persistent as ever, I see," she stated in her usual monotone hoping her lack of expression would convey once and for all that she was Not. Interested.

"Stubborn as ever," he replied cheekily.

She rolled her eyes and snapped, "Why can't you go bother someone else?"

Leaning down near her ear, he whispered, "Maybe I don't want anyone else."

Fighting back the shivers his close proximity gave her, she struggled to respond, "Tough luck."

Sadly, she knew this statement was nullified by the fact that her face was tomato red. Pushing Richard back, she quickly pulled up her hood while trying to focus on mundane items in the halls so that her blush would fade.

"You're not leaving me much of a choice," he said, looking at the petite girl with a new intensity.

She was glad for the security of her hood-his gaze was unnerving.

Confused, she asked, "What? You're not making sense. Maybe the rumours are true and you really are from a mental hospital. I'd certainly believe it."

Grabbing her bag, she slammed her locker closed and made her way to the exit. She resolved to skip soccer practice lest he stay and try to weasel her into another uncomfortable encounter.

She didn't expect him to grab her wrist and pull her back, however.

"What do you want?!" She cried, exasperated. It irked her the way that he just continued to pursue her.

Hearing a small click, Rachel looked down and finally understood what he was talking about. On her wrist was a gleaming silver cuff-the other was attached to Richard's wrist.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she said, annoyed. All she wanted was to go home to a warm cup of tea and a good book. Hell, she'd even throw in a few rounds of bickering with her sister if it meant the opportunity to go home now.

It didn't help that he was grinning. He was enjoying this.

Anger coursing through her, she used her free hand to smack him in the face. Well, she would've had this been a world that didn't take pleasure in torturing her. No, instead, he caught her hand in it's trajectory to his face, his amused smile getting bigger.

Ripping her hand away from him (and ignoring the odd tingling sensation she felt from the contact) she sent him a particularly harsh glare (icy even by her standards) before asking through gritted teeth, "Where. Is. The. Damn. Key?"

"At my house."

Groaning, she spat, "Lead on, then."

He chuckled, "I was actually envisioning this to me more of a scavenger hunt."

She looked at him, unimpressed, "A scavenger hunt? What are you, 5?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, a fact that irked Rachel more, before adding, "Point is-I'm not telling you where I live. You have to guess. When you find my house, I'll get the keys and let you go."

She frowned, "This is a suburb with about 100,000 people. How the hell am I supposed to find your house?"

"Well, seeing as we'll be passing many landmarks of this town-if you see a landmark you know and tell me a memory of yours surrounding it, I'll tell you which way to turn. Eventually, you'll find it."

She growled, "No."

Taken aback by this reaction, he decided to press his luck, "Why?"

"I'm not going to tell you about my life without reciprocity. No, for any story I tell you, you tell me one too."

"Fine," he muttered.

"Then you have a deal, I guess," she grumbled, "But don't think this changes anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied sarcastically.

Deciding not to comment, Rachel practically dragged him out of the school building. Turning to face the building, she pointed and stated, "School. Where I go everyday for a small dose of hell. There's story one."

He chuckled at her antics, "That doesn't count and you know it."

"Then what does count?" she asked, exasperated.

"A concrete story centred around a true event and involving at least one other person in the location specified," he stated.

"That was...oddly specific," she muttered, "You know, you've had way too much time to think about this, kid."

He shrugged, "That's your fault for giving me time to come up with things like this."

She growled, "Why can't you just leave me alone?!"

Innocently, he held up their wrists that were bound by the handcuffs.

"I. Hate. You," she growled, knowing that he was trying to get under her skin-and that it was working. Something about him was just...infuriating.

"Look, you want to do this or not?" He asked, "Otherwise we can just sit down here and wait for school tomorrow."

"Your parents would get worried," she huffed, "There's no way you'd actually do that."

"They wouldn't," he replied softly, "Wanna bet?"

Unsure of what to say, she decided to steer the conversation along another path.

"Whatever, let's get going. There, the park. Used to take Jinx's dog there all the time in the summer. That dog loved me wayy too much-never learned to go away. Sound like someone you know?"

He gave a small laugh, "Not at all. So why don't you go there anymore?"

"Jinx's dog, Wykkyd, had to be put down. Had tumors everywhere and kidney failure. She refused to get another saying they wouldn't be like Wykkyd. Not that I blame her."

He nodded, "Sorry I asked."

"Don't be," she replied, tersely, "I wouldn't have told you if it was too painful. That was a long time ago."

He nodded, "My turn, then?"

She nodded.

"Well, I have no memories of the park, actually. My family moved here about three years ago and I was away for one of those...," he trailed off.

She couldn't say what drove her-perhaps it was his dejected expression when talking about his family (a feature she could relate to in some ways)-but she dragged him down to the park and sat on the swings next to him. Without a word, she began to swing and he, being handcuffed and not relishing the idea of losing a hand, followed suit.

After a little while, when they both stopped, she explained, "Now you at least have one story about the park like everyone else in this town."

At that, he smiled. She wasn't nearly as mean as she had seemed a few days ago. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't think she could revert to the intimidating girl he'd grown accustomed to, but rather, that she did have other facets to her character-facets that would make his job easier to complete.

He frowned. Since he'd gone up to her locker, he'd forgotten all about the mission. It was just a normal date...and yet, it wasn't. He sighed and felt a stab of guilt when Rachel shot him a concerned look.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

She frowned but decided not to comment on his response, "Well, you still owe me a story. If not about the park then about something else."

Richard weighed his options. He could tell a boring, innocuous tale like the one she'd told-make something up since his childhood memories were few. But, he rationalised, this would do nothing to open her up, which was the purpose of this idea. If he didn't trust her first with a secret of his, she would never reveal any of her secrets.

Taking a steadying breath, he opted to tell a true story, "I actually don't have many memories of my childhood. Well, fun ones anyway. I can't remember if I ever went to a park with my parents, but I'm sure they loved me. They put me in gymnastics classes since I loved it so much. Being in the air made me feel like I could fly. But I quit soon after I started and never went back."

"Why?" she asked, curiosity permeating her voice.

"On the way to pick me up from one of my classes, my parents got into a car crash," he explained, deciding not to reveal that they had died just yet.

Her eyes widened in shock, "Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

He shrugged easily, "It's okay. Bruce, my adopted father, has worked hard to make sure I had everything. I appreciate it but it also meant that he was often too busy to do much with me."

"Oh," she replied once again, unsure of how to react.

After a brief pause, she blurted, "How are you still so happy?"

He looked at her, surprised at her question. He shrugged, "I don't know. I don't give it much thought, I guess."

"I suppose it doesn't do to dwell on dreams and memories, does it?" she muttered to herself.

"Shall we continue on, then?" he asked, suddenly regretting bringing up his past. They had lost the semi-lighthearted mood they'd started with.

She shrugged, "This is your idea. Lead on. Oh and you're supposed to give me a direction to go."

He smiled, "Right. Northwest for a block."

Looking at the sun, which was slightly inching toward the West as the day dragged on, Rachel located North West and proceeded up that street for about a block, bringing her to the post office.

Seeing no other landmarks around, Rachel sighed. "I used to come here every week to write my mom and mail her a letter. She used to write back but the letters got progressively shorter and, eventually, stopped coming altogether. I hate the post office now."

It was Richard's turn to be surprised...he hadn't expected her to open up so quickly. Doing the first thing that came to mind, he hugged her. Awkwardly. He had forgotten about the handcuffs in that moment and it morphed into an awkward semi-hug with only one of his arms wrapped around the petite girl's frame.

Despite this, Rachel clearly bristled from the contact. After he pulled away, she stated, "I don't like being touched. That includes hugs."

Sheepishly, he apologised.

She shrugged, "It's fine. But I'm over the whole thing now-no hugs required."

He frowned, "How come Tara is okay with it all?"

Rachel shrugged, "She was too young to remember it or what happened because of it. Your turn."

Deciding not to press the issue further, Richard supplied his own story, "Like I said before, Bruce is almost always busy. He adopted me and Tim, who I consider my younger brother. Every year, I used to bring Tim here to send his Christmas list to Santa in the North Pole. The post office had a collection box of children's letters. I never know what they do with those-I think they must throw them out. For some reason, that always made me sad when I thought about Tim's wishes ending up in some dumpster. So, every year, I'd make a colour photocopy and have him send off the photocopy-he never could tell. A few years ago I gave him all the letters I had stashed away for Christmas-it was funny to see how he'd changed over the years both in what he asked for and how he decorated the letters."

Richard smiled lost in memory and Rachel, despite knowing he'd faced quite a bit in his childhood, found herself jealous of the sibling relationship he and Tim seemed to have. It was so different from the distant one she had with Tara.

"You're lucky to have him and vice versa," she supplied, "Must be nice being close to your sibling."

Richard smiled, "You are too. You and Jinx are, in a weird way, sisters. Tim isn't related to me, Rachel. You choose your own family, sometimes."

"I suppose," she replied thoughtfully, "I never thought of it that way."

He grinned, "Happy to help."

She snorted, "I don't call being chained to you help. Unless you mean helping me along the path to insanity."

He laughed, a full-blown, unrestrained laugh, "What can I say? I don't want to be the only insane one. And you seemed closest to the edge of sanity."

She smiled, "Selfish bastard. Which way?"

"Take a right and continue two blocks."

Following his directions, she found they arrived at one of the suburb's main roads. They also happened to be across the street from a Mediterranean place. This time, Richard dragged Rachel into the place, dubbed Pita Inn.

"Why are we here?" she asked, bored.

"I was hungry," he practically whined.

Rolling her eyes in response, she muttered, "Men."

He gave an embarrassed shrug, "I'm a growing boy."

She chuckled.

He stared.

"What?" she snapped, slipping back in to her abrasive self.

"Nothing, nothing," stated Richard, "I just love the way you laugh, is all."

Now she stared.

Richard looked up at the ceiling and willed the ground to swallow him whole. That was the problem with Rachel-she still unnerved him even when she was being open. She made him feel almost...inadequate. He didn't know how to react around her-she appreciated honesty, he knew, yet responded to it in the most peculiar ways. Like now. Staring at him. Making him regret saying anything at all.

"That wasn't a laugh," she stated defensively.

"Whatever, it was still nice," he replied, "Accept the compliment."

She frowned, suddenly serious, "Why are you doing all of this, Richard?"

"Wh-what do you-u mean?" he stuttered, hoping she hadn't found out about the obligation he was currently under.

"I mean...Look, I'm not stupid. I'm not nice to anyone in school. So why did you ever bother asking me out?" she asked, scowling, "It can't be looks because I don't try to look pretty for school. Which means you're trying to prove something. Just what are you trying to do?"

He smiled, his insides squirming at the lie, "I just wanted to get to know you. I figured you aren't that way with everyone-look at Jinx-and, I guess, I was just curious about you. You piqued my interest."

She arched one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, "You are crazy. I don't think I'll ever understand you. But you're not so bad, I guess."

He laughed, "Would you want to? And how's that for a compliment? I tell you you're interesting and you reciprocate with 'you're not terrible'."

"Probably not," she reasoned.

After a pause she added, "And be glad for any compliment." Then she stuck her tongue out at him.

He chuckled, "And you say I'm a kid?"

"I can't help it," she deadpanned, "I feel my IQ slipping every moment I'm around you."

Seeing as they were the next ones up, Richard decided not to continue the verbal sparring and instead asked, "You want anything?"

"Perhaps an order of the falafels," she replied.

"That's it?" he asked, surprised, "That only comes with four of them, you know."

She gave him a small smile, "We don't all have insatiable stomachs, Rich."

He smiled, noticing that she was finally using his first name. Even shortening it to a nickname.

"Suit yourself."

Placing their orders, Richard led her to the tables and noticed how she led them to one of the ones in the corners, where it was darker and more secluded. She really did prefer to keep to herself, he noted.

Sitting at a four-person table (so they could sit side-by-side due to their present condition), Richard broke the silence, "Wanna play 20 questions?"

Again, she raised her brow at him quizzically, "You really are a child, aren't you?"

"I just like strategy," he explained, "And, believe it or not, there is some strategy to 20 questions."

"Why the interest in strategy?" she probed.

"Always wanted to be a detective or something."

She smiled, "I can see that. It would suit you. And that's a field where persistence pays off."

He teased, "Persistence always pays off."

She scoffed, "I beg to differ."

He decided not to point out that it had, in fact, worked with her and, instead, replied, "I should've taken us to Forest Cafe, instead."

"Why is that?"

"They have better ways of passing the time," he explained, "Some of the tables have chess boards on them. We could've played."

"What makes you think I like chess?" she teased, "I could find it incredibly dull."

"Like everyone else?" he replied playfully, "And here I thought you were different."

Rolling her eyes at his antics, and ignoring his unnerving spot-on guess at her love of the game, she corrected, "I actually love chess. Unfortunately, I haven't played in years. I'm probably no good anymore."

"Don't sell yourself short," he chided, "You're incredibly smart. I'm sure you'd be able to keep up with the best of them. Once you learn it, it never really goes away."

Feeling the blush creeping up her neck, she bowed her head to let her midnight black tresses create a barrier so he wouldn't see it.

"Um, thanks."

Thankfully, she was saved further embarrassment as the food was finally brought to their table.

So...I can't tell if I made this go too fast or not. Thoughts?

Also, this isn't the end of their excursion but, sadly, I do have an essay due Monday and I need to actually start it :P

Please drop me a short review-it makes my day! :)

~RR