Once they stepped through, they wound up in a brand-new place. Pale-green striped wallpaper lined the walls, and old family photos made going up the staircase more interesting. The floral-printed sofa in the next room and lace curtains gave it an old, homey feel. No TV, but there was a stereo with a record player.

Sara was about to ask where they were when she saw a familiar face in one of the framed pictures on the mantle. It was Flynn, just younger — maybe sixteen.

She bit her lip to keep from snickering at the sweet nerd while studying it. "Cute kid."

Flynn tilted his head as he, too, looked. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You're cute as a button."

"Oh, yeah, well there's no doubt about that," Flynn's smugness faded. "But... you think I am?"

Sara warmly smiled. "Yeah. I do."

A lovely scarlet flush coloured Flynn's vanilla, freckled complexion. To hear Sara, of all people, found him cute was enough to make his brain just about fizzle out of working order.

"Are we at your mum's place?" she asked.

He heard her voice, though her words came muffled. He had to snap out of his thoughts, collect himself, and respond before she would've assumed he was having a stroke or something. "Sorry?"

"Is this your mum's?"

"Oh, yeah, it is. Or... was. I couldn't bring myself to sell it."

"That's sweet," Sara thought aloud. "It's nice here. Very... home. If that makes sense."

The flicker of a grin passed his thin lips, glad to know that she was calm enough to consider this place as home. They'd probably have to spend a lot of time here. "It does," he said.

"So, why are we here?"

Flynn dropped his satchel to the living-room floor with a loud whap. "It's the safest place I know. And I needed to contemplate. This is where I come to do that, so, here we are."

"You must come here a lot then?" she ventured.

"Yes," He drew up a shallow breath, then sharply let it out. He'd rather not go into it more if he could avoid it. "The, uh... shower's upstairs, and there's food in the kitchen if you get hungry."

"Later. Much later," Sara's posture slumped. "I'm more tired than anything else," she moaned. "I think I'll just clean up and go to bed, if it's all the same to you."

"Fair enough. I'll be awake if you need me."

"Contemplating."

Flynn leaned inward, closer to her. "Yes. Which I can't do with you hanging around, distracting me with your–" He coughed drummed his chest with his fingers and shuffled his feet, gazing down at them as he did, then at her in her deep blue eyes. "Just go."

She gave him a traditional Polish salute. "Yes, sir," she responded, and headed up the stairs.

Along the way, she passed a couple of bedrooms. One, in particular, caught her eye. She ambled in, flipped the switch, and the wallpaper came to life. More off-yellow, striped this time. Multiple diplomas hung on the walls where bookshelves didn't occupy. She glanced at a chair which more books rested on. Books were everywhere, to be honest. Even the floor.

A low hum emitted from her, and she grinned. "Flynn..."

Sara moved further into the room, avoiding stepping on his belongings, then got on his bed. Her arms flailed a moment before she got her balance. She stood there in the middle, taking in her surroundings. Being there made her eyes well up. It was as if every moment he spent there, crying and alone, screamed from the walls and echoed in her mind.

After closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, she took a moment to think. She rubbed her hands together and rolled her shoulders, relaxed and let everything take her. Then her eyes opened, and she stared at the wall of diplomas in front of her. Full-time student, she thought. Just how smart was he? Here she was with no certificates. He was making her look bad. But instead of being jealous, or even angry, she was proud of Flynn. He did everything she wished she could, and she could live vicariously through him. In more ways than one.

Sara Wheeler was an empath. She sensed things on an extremely high level, connected with others better than most empaths, and on rare occasions, she even emulated the person she was most linked with. It already happened in the hospital. In truth, she couldn't think of a better person to be. Herself? Probably. But she was boring. Flynn Carsen had more energy. More confidence. That was the kind of person she should be. She would have been if it weren't for her parents thwarting her progress as a human being.

"Course," she said in an American accent. "It would be more impressive if I had a medical degree," Sara bobbed her head side to side. "Not that I didn't try... Took one step inside the room, saw blood and ran out to puke," Now that sounded familiar to her. She snorted and snickered. "You get used to it," she spoke again, her usual southern Welsh inflection returning. She threw her head back and groaned. "God, stop it!" Sara snapped at herself, and jumped down from Flynn's bed. "You're gonna come off as schizophrenic or something."

Sara rubbed her temples, took another deep breath, and padded towards the hall bathroom. When she'd gotten inside, she flicked on the water, almost on full hot. The shower went on for about a minute, and the sound of water splashing against glass seemed to deepen Sara's smile. She moved to the mirror and looked in, praying that her reflection looked nearly identical to her own in the mirror. Still herself, unfortunately.

With a sigh, she watched the reflection for a few moments before removing her shirt. Then she peeled off everything else and threw her clothes into an unruly pile on the floor and stepped into the shower. She enjoyed the feeling of water streaming over her body. It was almost orgasm inducing. She revelled in the warmth. Her skin turned pink already. An extensive roll of her shoulders made the water hit just the right spot.

She stood there a few moments longer after washing up and rinsing off, then got out, dried her hair off and then walked back to Flynn's bedroom, stark naked. After rummaging through his old clothes in the dresser, she eventually found a sweatshirt that had "I love pi" written on the front. She admired it and put it on, then set off down the stairs in nothing else but the pullover she was too small for. Thankfully, it covered where it needed to.

Flynn perked up when he heard her coming downstairs. He set down the book he was studying on the kitchen table and called out, "Feeling better?"

"Much," she said, and entered the room, making her way to the cupboards for a glass. Noticing the Librarian's dumbfounded stare, she cocked her head. "What?"

Flynn could not peel his gaze off her. Seeing her, half naked, in one of his shirts, his thoughts wouldn't line up. Every time he tried to align one, it tumbled down, scattering the rest. He didn't think he could even speak. He wanted to, though. Maybe about how attractive he found her? Perhaps that she looked great, at least? Swallowing courage by the glassful, he let the words finally slip through his lips. "I thought you were going to bed."

Smooth. Idiot.

"I was just getting some water," she replied. "Where am I sleeping, anyway?"

"My mother's room. If that's okay. Otherwise, it's the..." Flynn motioned his head to the sofa.

"Yeah, no. That's fine," It wasn't. "I'm okay with that." She really wasn't.

"Okay. I just figured you wouldn't want to–"

"No, I get that. No worries," She stewed in the salty broth of disappointment. Granted, if she was in the same bed as him, she wouldn't do anything about it, except maybe snuggle. Having some form of human contact that didn't necessarily have to involve sex was all she needed. Sara yawned and said, "I should go to bed now. I guess."

"Good idea. Me?" Flynn set his each palm on two short towers of books. "I've got work to do."

"Need any help with that?"

"Not unless you want to figure out a way to get my Library back," he said, sighing.

"Wasn't that the point of taking me with you?"

"All right, Sara," Flynn leaned forward, his fingers laced before him on the tabletop. "Thoughts?"

Ideas bounced inside her head like tiny rubber balls as she masticated. She grabbed one and with a snap of her fingers, she offered it to Flynn. "Inter-dimensional gate!"

"That..." Flynn had his curiosity aroused, his eyebrow arched and mouth downturned. He was impressed with her suggestion. "Might actually work. If I knew where one was and how to open it."

"If only I could," she mused. "I'm not as smart as you, with your... What is it? Twenty degrees?"

"Twenty-two," he swiftly corrected as he opened one of the books. "Would've been twenty-three, if–" Flynn stopped there before he got upset. He'd rather not reopen that particular can of worms. "Look, I need to focus, and, again, you're distracting me."

"Right, right. Bed. But you should go too. Don't want you overworking that fabulous brain of yours."

He snickered, a grin reaching cheek to cheek. "Never."

Confused, she narrowed her eyes. "You'll never go to bed or you'll never overwork your brain?"

"Yes."

She slid him a mildly reprimanding gaze. "Flynn."

"Sara," he shot back in an equally admonishing intonation.

"I realise you're a veritable man-child and all–"

"Says the thirty-year-old woman who had their hair in pigtails earlier," he countered with his eyes glued to the book's pages.

She gritted her teeth for control. It was all she could do to not throttle him. Another deep breath, and she calmed down, to an extent. "You know what? You go to bed whenever the hell you feel like it," she said, the headed back upstairs.

"Thanks. Mom!" Flynn shouted to her.

Sara shot him a glare, one foot on the hardwood floor, the other on the first step. Though she didn't speak, her death gaze said enough.

Flynn tried to avoid it, eyes darting everywhere else but her. "Sorry," he said with a clear of his throat.

"Mm-hm," Sara uttered, and ascended up to the bedroom. She then mumbled, "I'm sure you are."