TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Gavin's Point-of-View

Chapter 15: In Half an Hour - Plush

I left the Ranking Room and headed to the underground parking. The whole way there, my mind was stuck on what I had said to Stefan. Had I crossed a line? That was the first time we had ever fought like that. Our friendship couldn't end, not now, not over a girl!

But I couldn't blame her either.

It was a mess even bigger than Bella, Edward and Jacob. Was it bad that I desperately wanted to be her Edward?

"What is wrong with me?!" I exclaimed in exasperation, punching at the steering wheel.

My thoughts were spinning in my head and I was struggling to lock them up. I couldn't think about Aimee that way. I just couldn't. And yet, I drove out to find her parents.

I'm out of my mind.

They were at their individual workplaces, as I had assumed. I found out that Molly's phone had died and Clifford's employer had asked him to turn his off while he was working. Each of them asked about Aimee, and I told each of them where it was. I spoke about the organisation, which, under normal circumstances, I would not have been allowed to do. And then I lied - sort of - and told them that they were all in danger, that there was a possibility that AIM was after them. Strangely enough, they did not argue - at least, not once I explained.

"AIM is a very powerful organisation that has been pursuing Aimee for years," I said in all seriousness, trying not to throw in the sarcastic flair I usually had when I spoke about AIM. "GINM is trying to protect her, and you. So, I need you to come with me, please."

At GINM, I questioned them for files sake – the default series of completely irrelevant questions. Truthfully, as spies, we usually discovered this type of information way before getting to sit a person down and ask them for it. But it was protocol.

"What does this have to do with Aimee?" queried Molly.

"It's just a customary security procedure. Your birthdate please," I continued nonchalantly. She didn't answer. "Stefan and Aimee are busy upstairs." Eyes widened at the word upstairs. "It's not how it sounds, I swear."

Molly sighed eventually, forsaking her resistance. "April 9th, 1980."

"December 11th, 1979," answered Clifford.

"What are the names of your parents?"

"Robert and Hillary Porter."

"Louise and Theodore Griffiths," he said proudly.

"Okay," I said, closing their file and packing it in the filing cabinet at the door, "now we can go get Aimee."