FOOLS & SAGES I FLYNN CARSEN

Into The Blue

Into The Blue

Clara drew back the curtain, ignoring the pilot's offer to escort her to her seat, too lost in her own turmoil to notice his suspicious solicitousness. The evening before, Charlene had returned in another puff of smoke with two plane tickets, sealing Clara's fate. Now Clara was here, going from one extreme to another, to be or not to be, resurrecting the memory of Jenkins's words, I always said you were more Guardian material than Librarian, but it wasn't my decision. The Library obviously couldn't decide between brains and brawn. I suppose it was just playing it safe... the memory only serving to increase her uneasiness, as if the Library had been preparing her for this moment all along, albeit unsuccessfully.

She'd stayed in the Library last night, sleeping on a sofa in the Reference section, unable to face Flynn under his own roof after his unfounded accusations. Upon waking up the next morning with a stiff neck, Judson had then provided her with everything else she needed, before sending her on her way, Charlene sarcastically saluting her, Clara resigning herself to her duty. And here she was, about to embark on a magical mystery tour to the Amazon, with the last person on earth she wanted to be with.

"God help Godfrey," Clara muttered under her breath, gripping her hand luggage even more tightly, the handles digging into her skin. As her gaze travelled across the rows of seats before her, it was only to see a bespectacled Flynn occupying an aisle seat near the back, Clara watching as he puffed out his cheeks, his broad shoulders hunching as he leant over the various pieces of paper he was scribbling upon, his hand nothing but a blur. As she drew closer, he began to mutter manically to himself, rather resembling a madman.

"May I help you, ma'am?" the pilot further pressed, breaking into Clara's thoughts, making her glance sharply at him.

"No, I'm fine," she said abruptly, before shaking her hair back, girding herself for the hell ahead.

As she did, Flynn happened to glance up, his mouth falling open as his dark gaze travelled over Clara, taking in her low-cut khaki coloured vest and frayed denim shorts, the fabric clinging to every curve. She seemed to shake her hair back in slow motion, Flynn gaping like a gormless fool, hugging his notes to himself. Her eye then suddenly caught his, startling Flynn, his papers exploding out of his arms, sending scraps flying through the air. "Sorry, sorry," Flynn said in a wild rush to the startled people seated around him, before scrambling to seize his notes, only for them to fall through his fingers.

"I didn't expect you to show up for the party," Clara said cryptically, making Flynn glance up from where he was kneeling on the floor, only to see her standing in front of him. Exhaling sharply, Clara shoved her bags into Flynn's hands before bending down and picking up all his papers, Flynn handing her hand luggage to the pilot in turn, who sullenly stowed them away in the overhead compartment. "Here," Clara said impatiently, shaking the stack of papers into some sort of semblance, before giving them back to Flynn, his spectacles now askew.

"Thanks," Flynn said suspiciously, tucking them under his arm, a silence spinning out between them, Flynn, Clara and the pilot remaining on their feet, forming a strange trio.

"Are you sitting down or what?" Clara said impatiently, looking at Flynn as if he was insane.

"The real Clara has now returned," Flynn said in a robotic monotone. "Normal service is resumed."

"Oh, be quiet," Clara snapped, shoving Flynn down into the window-seat, before claiming the aisle seat for her own.

"Hey, that was my seat!" Flynn protested.

"Not anymore," Clara said smartly, before glancing up at the pilot who was still hovering, the sight making her eyes narrow. "Can I help you?" she asked, brow furrowing. "You've been practically attached to my elbow since check-in."