FOOLS & SAGES I FLYNN CARSEN

She's Not Me

She's Not Me

Does she know I'm tattooed onto your heart?
You can try to fight it
I have left my mark on you
There is nothing you can do...

Clara carefully carried the tea-tray down the stairs, having finished off the tea and most of Flynn's biscuit stash, the idea of duelling with destiny not so daunting now thanks to having a full stomach. She had just reached the bottom when Margie came rushing round the corner, wringing her hands, only to stop at seeing Clara. Without a word, she frantically beckoned Clara into the kitchen, Clara following, more or less mystified, not sure what was going on.

"Sorry," Margie said, taking the tray from Clara, "it's just I've got a guest in – a potential girlfriend for Flynn actually" -

- "Excuse me!?" Clara snapped, forgetting herself, startling Margie. "Girlfriend!?"

"She's the daughter of one of my friends," Margie explained tersely, taken aback at Clara's virulent reaction, contradicting Clara's earlier apparent annoyance, "I always thought she and Flynn would look good together, and they do, so I don't want you walking in on them, giving the wrong impression."

"I'll just wait upstairs then," Clara said coldly, knowing she would do no such thing.

"Be a good girl and do that," Margie said, her froideur fading, "I'll bring up some more tea." She patted Clara's hand, before turning and bustling around the kitchen, Clara completely losing the plot and stalking into the living room, pulling her hair out of her ponytail as she moved.

Flynn studied his supposed date, the dread rising, awkwardness beginning as ever to paralyze him. "Do you" - he began nervously, only to do a double-take at seeing Clara stalking through the doorway, tossing her dark hair back, the sight making him catch his breath. Hartley was... hot. Then he shook his head, mentally slapping himself into semblance, only for Clara to fling herself down into his lap and kiss all common sense out of him.

"O -o - okay," his supposed date stuttered, standing up, snatching her handbag from the table, "I'll – I'll just be on my way."

Nobody noticed her departure, time ticking on, taking Flynn's future with it. Then Clara suddenly shoved the shellshocked Flynn from her, before sliding off his lap, tucking her tousled hair behind her ears, looking deceptively demure. Flynn just stared at her, stunned, not quite believing what had just happened. Just then, Margie came in, the clatter of teacups making Flynn jump violently.

"Where did she go?" Margie asked, glancing around her, looking bewildered.

"I – I – I don't know," Flynn stuttered, stumbling to his feet, "she – she just went."

"She had a prior engagement," Clara said smartly, straightening the cuffs of Flynn's checked shirt.

Margie studied them both for a moment, noting Flynn's rumpled appearance and Clara's chaotic hair, all evidence of a wild embrace, before remembering the tension between Flynn and Clara as they sat side by side on his bed and Clara's crazy reaction in the kitchen to the news he had a date, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling together, Margie suddenly seeing that grandchildren might just be within her reach after all. "Oh well," she said, feigning disappointment, "maybe next time, hmm?"

"Mom, please don't do that again," Flynn said, trying not to look at Clara, "it's excruciatingly embarrassing."

"I just want my boy to be happy," Margie challenged, just as careful not to glance at Clara, "is that so terrible?"

Flynn stared down at his feet. "I will," he said, his voice cracking, "one day... when it's right."

Clara dropped her demure demeanour, her eyes suddenly alight, recognizing the wistful edge to his voice, almost like he was her Flynn, how he used to sound when he would open the puzzle box that was his heart to her.

"The things that make life worth living," Margie said quietly, taking a step forwards towards Flynn, "they can't be thought here," she tapped the side of his head, "they must be felt here." She placed her hand over his heart, her grey gaze silently asking him to understand, to know that it couldn't be learned, only lived.