The last two miles were torturous, and Sara honestly didn't think she could last much longer.  They had been at it for eight miles already. Sara had always felt very strong, but she quickly found that her legs were failing her, as the aching reached a nigh excruciating level. At that point, as much as she wanted to fight, there was no way that she could. She tried to beg for relief, but she didn't have the energy for it. She was cold, tired, and hungry.

"Flynn?" Sara weakly uttered. "I know I said I wanted to go and that you needed my help, but it goes both ways, man."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Carry me."

He stopped walking long enough to shoot her a wary gaze. "Not happening."

Her posture slumped, sinking into despair. She couldn't do it anymore. Her knees wouldn't let her. With a harsh, exhausted groan, she gathered up some strength and kept going. "Huh. Chivalry is dead."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "We're almost there!"

"Almost doesn't put a pep in my step."

Being out and about made her feel better, though. Seeing the sights of the city she barely saw much of any more was something she needed. She was happy for someone who was slowly losing herself — peeved and panicking, but happier than she'd ever been. Flynn was partly to thank for that.

Sara's eyes trailed from the pavement to Flynn, where they stayed. She knew something was off about him. Something too big to fix, yet too big to ignore. Sara was suspicious. She didn't like the future that was ahead of him. She had concerns. There was something troubling about this man. Something sinister.

"Are you feeling okay?" Sara asked, suddenly ill-at-ease.

He cast a brief glance to her before returning his focus in the direction ahead. "Yeah."

She didn't believe that for a second. Sara knew something was up. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said again, this time slightly going up in pitch. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Sara grabbed hold of his hand and stopped him dead in his tracks. She and Flynn both stared each other in the eye for a moment, and then she spoke. "You'll find it. It won't be easy but... you'll find it."

Though, that wasn't what she sensed. Not the only thing, at least. The problem was that she also sensed he didn't know and didn't want him to find out this way.

"Things never are easy," Flynn answered. "If it were, I wouldn't be a Librarian."

"Can't argue with that."

Flynn spotted the car rental building. They were just about there. "Thirty steps," he surmised. "We can make it."

"Then what?" she asked.

He chortled, full of enthusiasm. "I don't have a clue. Isn't it great?"

Sara arched an eyebrow. "Flynn, your definition of great is a lot different from mine."

Flynn took her by the hand and whisked her away with him, all the way to the building's front doors. He just about rammed into someone else in the queue. Despite the momentum he had going, he was able to stop himself before he did.

"Right," he murmured, then leaned in to her ear. "Let me do the talking," Flynn squinted his eyes, listening intently to something in the distance. "EC-One-Twenty-B."

Soon, Sara was mimicking his appearance, but instead of deep attentiveness, it was in confusion. "What are you on about now?"

"Helicopter. I can tell by the sound of the rotors."

"Okay," she said with a defeated sigh. "Well, it's San Francisco, you get used to them."

"Seems to be circling..."

"Again–"

"Next!" a short, stocky brunette woman called out.

Sara smacked Flynn on the back. "Oi, come on. We're up."

"Oh, right," Flynn coughed and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. Even after all this time, he was still socially awkward. He reached the front desk and leaned his elbows on it. "Evening, Miss..." Flynn strained to see the woman's name-tag at first, but got it in the end. "Doris. We need a vehicle. Two door?" He turned to Sara, checking with her.

"Whatever."

"Don't be too excited," he muttered. He returned his attention to Doris and continued, "Two door, a good stereo system, USB ports and no convertible, thanks."

The woman behind the counter gawked, too scared to speak.

Flynn's brow furrowed. "Did I say something wrong? Ah! Vehículo de dos puertas, por favor?" He still wasn't getting a reply. Then the penny dropped; she must have recognised him. "Ah, no. No, you must have me confused with that guy on that doctor show. I get that a lot," Annoyed, he glanced out the glass doors behind him, at the many police cars hastily pulling up. "What in the world is going on out there? First a whirlybird and now this?" He scoffed.

It wasn't long before Sara was copying the same look as the woman's. "Fl– Uh, Flynn?" She tugged at the sleeve of his brown blazer.

"Yes, what is it?" His chocolate brown eyes trailed from her pointing finger to the television mounted on the wall and bulged out. There he was — there she was — on the news already. "Huh."

"Hǎo ba, zhè bùshì wánměi de," Sara muttered, which roughly translated from Chinese meant, 'Well, isn't this perfect.' She gawked at every police officer hustling out of their cars and towards the doors. "What do we do now?"

"First and foremost? RUN!"

Wasting no time, they sprinted for the back exit. Sara fell slightly behind. Flynn rushed back to her and picked her up as though he was carrying her over the threshold, all the while still running.

He stopped where the cars were all parked. An idea struck him, and while it may have the potential to make things worse for both of them, in that moment, he didn't care.

Flynn plonked her down beside an old hatchback. "Nineteen-eighty-nine. Fantastic!"

Sara raked her fingers through her hair, trying to straighten it out. "Why is that fantastic?"

As he rummaged through his satchel, his response came faltering, yet quick. "Any model of vehicle... after the mid-nineties are near impossible... to hot-wire. Not entirely impossible, but... difficult."

"We're stealing this car?"

He looked up at her, sliding her a wary gaze. "Yes, we are. Do keep up," At last, he found what he was searching for and yanked out a flathead screwdriver. "Ha!"

"You are crazy!"

"So, stay here," he grunted, straining to unlock the door at the same time.

"Fortunately for us both, I like crazy. Here," She handed him the two bobby pins in her hair. "These will work better."

Flynn was impressed by her. On the other hand, he was unsure if he should be, with her knowledge of lock picking. Nonetheless, he was grateful.

With very little effort, he unlocked the driver's side door, and swiftly piled in. He removed the panel at the rear of the ignition tumbler and stuck the screwdriver in. "Hammer," he said, holding out his hand. Flynn snapped his fingers when it wasn't in his grasp soon enough.

After going through his things — some of which confused her more than anything — Sara finally got it and gave it to him.

Flynn whacked the handle end of the screwdriver once, breaking the ignition lock. "Pliers."

"Uh... here"

Using the pliers, he turned the screwdriver repeatedly. The car failed to start. He was hoping he didn't have to actually hot wire it. "Where is Ezekiel Jones when you need him?"

"Who?"

Flynn ignored her and yelled at the car. "Come on!"

"Uh, Flynn? Not to put pressure on you or anything, but they're coming!"

He twisted one last time, groaned in frustration and let his head hit the steering wheel. Once it did, the car miraculously started. He wheezed out a laugh. "Heh-hey! We're fifty percent less likely to die."

"What's the other fifty?" Sara wondered.

"We... crash. Grab my bag, let's go!" Flynn leaned over to unlock the passenger side door. "All good?"

She nodded. "You still don't know what you're doing, do you?"

"Nope."

Without another thought, Flynn cranked the steering wheel hard in both directions, unlocking the steering column. As soon as he heard it break, he floored it and whizzed past several officers who were on foot, and a few more who hadn't gotten out of their vehicles yet, leaving them in the dust.

"O-ho-kay," Sara uttered, terrified as she held on to the handle on the roof of the car with one hand and her flip-flopping stomach with the other. "Pull over."

"I don't know if I can. Or if I can, I don't know it'll start back up again."

"Oh, great," Sara chucked her drawstring bag in the backseat. "Do we at least know where we're going?"

"Honestly?" Flynn shook his head.

"Are you kidding me?" she demanded.

"I told you, I'm out of place! If I knew how to get back on track–" Out of nowhere, his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. "Oh, my God, I don't know what to do."

"Flynn?"

"I always know what to do!"

"Are you okay?"

Over and over, he said,  "Oh, God," His breathing quickened, his hands and feet tingled, and at any second, he felt like he might pass out. "I'm... failing."

"Flynn??"

Flynn's eyes crossed and then shut. He flopped back in his seat, limp as a boiled noodle. He was out cold.

Sara attempted to gain control of the car, however, Flynn's relaxed body made it difficult. She felt sick. She didn't plan on dying this way. But plans change.

A brown brick building was in her sights and only getting closer. She made a ninety-degree turn on a dime, but it didn't matter. They were just headed for another building, head-on.

Okay, she thought. I could do it before, and I can do it again. Sara put her arm out in front of Flynn, while the other stuck out straight ahead. She tightly shut her eyes, clenched her jaw and prayed to a higher power that it would work.

The car came to a screeching halt, teetering on the left tyres a moment before falling back down flat with a heavy bang. That was when Sara popped open her eyes. She did it. She stopped the accident from happening.

Sara chortled and grinned widely. "I did it. Ha-ha!" Her joy ended abruptly when she saw Flynn and remembered he was unconscious. "Oh, hey. Hey, Flynn?" She tapped his cheek. "Flynn!"

He croaked out indecipherable gibberish before whimpering, "I want snickerdoodles, Mom."

She couldn't help but giggle. It died off when the sound of distant sirens came along. "Flynn, wake up. We gotta go."

Chocolate brown eyes shot open. Flynn let out a muffled gag, twice before he stumbled out of the car and fell to his knees. He started retching on the spot, so much so that head was pounding; he couldn't hear Sara calling out to him.

Sara couldn't move; too scared to. At that point, all she wanted to do was run, but she couldn't leave him either.

It's all right. You can do this. He isn't contagious. Right?

No. Why would he be? It came after a panic attack and being jostled around in a car.

At least, that was what she told herself. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and then finally, slowly, turned exited the car and knelt beside him.

No vomit actually came up, which was a good sign. For her, anyway.

Hesitantly, unsure of what else to do, she patted him on the back. "You're shaking," Sara quavered.

"Mm..." was all he could say. His eyes could barely stay open and his limbs were about to give in.

She knew firsthand how debilitating this was for him, how miserable he felt. She was right there with him. Sara stopped patting and started rubbing, which caused him to flinch. "Shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay, it's just me."

Never two steps away from a panic attack, he always said. Those last few minutes were the two steps. Only he didn't think this would happen. Fleeing, maybe. Crying, definitely. Becoming petrified stone, as if he gazed at Medusa herself? He didn't expect that.

The sirens stopped. Through a patch of her brown hair covering her eyes, Sara could make out an ambulance and several police cars before having her sight torn away by Flynn trying and failing to sit up. She caught him just before he could fall backwards to the asphalt. "I've got you, sweetie. I've got you," she whispered and put her hand over his chest. In an instant, she felt his heart pounding away. "Just breathe. Nice and slow, okay?"

Lethargically, he nodded and strived to calm down. Bleary eyes caught a glimpse of EMTs coming for them. "Fun's over..." he said, his voice sluggish.

Sara burst into laughter, nervous, yet also relieved he was joking around. "Yeah," Her lips pressed against the back of his head, never kissing him, then rested her cheek against it. "Yeah."