The two stumbled about like drunk people for a second. It seemed to take more of a toll on Sara than it did on Flynn, however.

Sara tumbled to her hands and knees. Flynn held her loosely by her sides, keeping her steady. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She barely got the chance to nod when Flynn took off screaming for someone called Jenkins. "I just... need a– Would you stop doing that? You're making me dizzy with your running about."

He stopped on a dime. "Sorry," Flynn then shouted, "JENKINS!"

"I don't think Jenkins is home. Whoever that is."

"Impossible! He's always home, that hermit. Jenkins!"

At last, a tall, semi-long, silver-haired gentleman in a navy blue suit and polka-dotted bow tie came down the winding staircase with an indignant air about him. "What is going–?" His thought dropped off when he saw the young woman, Sara, on all fours and Flynn in a hospital gown and fuzzy slipper socks. "Who in the fresh hell is this? And why are you dressed like that?"

"Told you not to go like that," she said to Flynn.

"Obviously," Flynn uttered hoarsely, put off and gesturing wildly. "I was in the hospital."

"No! Really?" Jenkins sardonically asked, feigning surprise.

Flynn turned to Sara, giving her a knowing nod, the other person whose default setting was sarcastic. "You two will hit it off nicely," he remarked.

Jenkins waltzed up to him, stopping just short of a foot in front of him. "Flynn, we cannot have people from the outside world coming here. You know this."

"Would you relax?" He patted Jenkins' shoulder, almost patronisingly, and headed to a back room. "We're just making a pit stop. I need a shower. Hospitals. Ugh!"

"Yeah," Sara said, tittering. "I might join you," Clocking the ambivalent expression on Jenkins' face, somewhere between slightly mortified and extremely confused, she quickly changed her response. "Uh! I mean, join in on that... thought. Yeah. Wait, this place has a shower?"

"I know what you want to say," Flynn peered past one of the Annex's pillars and stared at her. "It's bigger on the inside!" He turned a corner and disappeared through a red door.

Sara hustled after him, carefully, in her platform trainers. "Is it?"

Jenkins rolled his eyes, threw his hands in the air and let them flop to his sides. "Why, yes, by all means. Make yourself at home," he muttered.

"We will!" Flynn shouted back. "Anyway, no. It just looks that way. The Library, however!" He turned on his heels. "Just you wait," Then he continued on down the way. "There is only one shower, one bedroom–"

"Which is mine!" Jenkins interjected from downstairs.

"– We'll sleep somewhere else. But, after I've gotten squeaky clean, you can wash up and change clothes."

Her eyes narrowed, inwardly wondering where she would get such a thing. "Clothes?"

"Don't worry about it," Now that they arrived, Flynn yanked open the door, pirouetted and faced her a second. "See you in five minutes," he said and backed into the room.

After the door shut in her face, she demanded, "Who the hell can get clean in five minutes?" She didn't get an answer, so she waited outside until she did, leaning sideways against the wall.

Sara reached in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a few pieces of folded paper; it was Flynn's hospital chart. She studied it carefully, going over each word twice. Then she saw the blood test results. A particular set of tests normally not done on a man, but she insisted that he'd have it done and quick.

Once she laid eyes on the result, she shrieked and then swiftly covered her mouth.

"I'm right," Sara chortled. It took a second for it to sink in. "Oh, God. I'm right."

"Is everything all right?" Jenkins called out.

"Y-yeah. Everything's... peachy," she said. A smile tried to form, but it scared her to be happy for him. What if it didn't work out? What if he went into hysterics?

She heard the water shut off. There was only one way to find out how he would react, and she knew it. Sara drew in a long breath and spoke. "Hey, Flynn?"

"I just got out. Can you give me two minutes?" he snapped.

"No, it's not that. I– I have something to tell you."

"Can it wait? I'm busy feeling bubbles."

"Actually, no. It can't. It–" Flynn's words finally dawned on her. "Wait, what do you mean bubbles?"

"It's probably nothing. It already–" Before he could finish answering, she came blew into the room, prompting him to cover up with a towel. "Do you mind?"

Sara ignored his irked stare and fixed her gaze on his bare chest, then snapped it away and focused only on his face. "It's funny, I expected more... hair. Anyway, what were you talking about? Bubbles?"

"It was more of a flutter, but it was just gas. Nothing to worry about."

"Uh-huh. Come here, let me check you over."

"What is there to check over?" Flynn asked.

Sara stared at him for a long time. Her breathing seemed to have synced up with his. For the first time, she could actually appreciate him; his intense, brown eyes, every line and freckle on his face... Everything. He was truly something else. At that point she got lost in his eyes; she saw so much fear, so much despair and anguish in them. The corner of her mouth twitched, then she donned a hesitant smile. "You'll be okay," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed and furrowed his brow. "Was there any doubt?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "No, I– It's good to finally see you."

"Well," A smirk tugged at Flynn's thin, pink lips, and he waved at her. "Here I am."

"Yeah. There you are," she said, her voice flat, almost absentminded in the presence of him. Longing pooled within her, aching deep down. Deep blue eyes rapt on his lips, then slowly moving over his chin. She wanted to know him, touch him. Even if it was just a hug.

Except there was someone else. Someone who was beautiful and made her feel ugly in comparison.  At the end of the day, she was just a silly school-girl who felt flattered by her teacher's attention but did not understand how to deal with it. She felt a fool.

This realization brought her back down from cloud nine, but before long, she felt shame knowing that her fantasies were a sin of self-indulgence.

Even if she weren't here, why would he want me, anyway? Sara thought.

Her lack of words worried Flynn. She was always talking. He inclined his head until his eyes met with hers. "Sara? Hello??" he sang out.

Sara snapped to attention. "What? Oh, yeah. I needed to tell you something, didn't I?"

"Evidently."

She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You know what, it, uh– It can wait until later. I'm sorry. I–" She paused to take a deep, composure collecting breath. "I'll give you a minute," Sara put one foot out of the door; it wasn't long before she turned back into the room. "What did you mean when you said that it was impossible?"

Flynn stared as if she just managed to speak in a language he didn't know. "What?"

"Back at the hospital, you said it was impossible for you to flatline. What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, yeah. I can't die," he nonchalantly said. "Well, actually I could, but with the magic I know, it's nigh impossible."

"Ah, of course," Her tone was both sarcastic, yet also boding. "Good thing because I don't think I could... stand to lose you now," she said, this time more serious-minded, if not a little solemn. "Not after– Anyway, I should go."

Flynn gave her a curt nod. "Right. I won't be long."

"I know. They never are," In an instant, she heard herself and knew just how crazy she must have sounded. Honestly, she didn't even know what she meant, except that maybe, in a way, she was saying that the good things that came along in her life never lasted forever. But it was only a guess. Sara shook off her disjointed thoughts. "Sorry, I'm going mad, I think. Tired."

"You seem like it. I know a place where we can crash, if you'd rather clean up and rest there."

"As long as there are no..." Sara made an effort to come up with some sort of dangerous thing to occur when she would be around him, but the truth was, it could have been anything. She eventually spat something out. "Aliens, that sounds good."

Flynn tilted his head for a second time. "Sara," he said with a tut. "It's never aliens."

"You say that now..."

"Just go. Let me dry off and dress up. I'm freezing."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she mumbled on her way out.

Once the door shut, Sara let herself feel, and as soon as she felt, her shoulders began to tremble. She shivered with an ache in her chest. She gasped for breath; unsure if she was tired or just nervous. Her fondness for him became more than a little frightening, so she drew in a long breath and lowered her head. Slowly she sank back against the door. Her shoulders were now beginning to relax as it released some of its tension. It was then that she realised just how tired and sore she was. How stupid she was.

This isn't happening, she inwardly said.

Sooner than she thought, she heard the shuffling of feet behind her and the door swung open, leaving nothing but air at her back. She fell backwards, but Flynn caught her and held her up only just.

"You okay, kiddo?" he asked.

Kiddo? he echoed in his mind. She's only eleven years younger than I am.

"I'm fine, Flynn," she said, not taking into account that he called her kiddo of all things. She was too busy drawing in the amazing scent of his musky cologne through her nose. It was almost orgasm-inducing.

Flynn helped her to her feet, brushed off any dust that may have been on her and fixed her hair. It perplexed her, and seeing this, he promptly stopped. "Sorry."

Nevertheless, she kept the same dazed grin on her face since he held her, coming out of her trance enough to say something intelligible. "Thank you, sweetie," Soon after she walked off, she whirled around, her smile replaced with a grimace. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"No, it's fine," he said. "I was being a twit back there. You can call me that."

"Really?"

With a heavy nod, he stuck out his arm in a hook for Sara to link hers with. "Shall we?"

Sara observed his stance a moment and her upper body lurched with a semi-stifled, airy chuckle. Her arm intertwined with his. "Yeah, we shall."