Oh my gosh. This has just been marinating in my laptop for, like, a month, and I totally forgot to post it. Sorry that it's been forever, guys! Thanks to those of you that still care a little bit. (That's better than I can manage at this point. XD)

Anyway, hope this doesn't suck too bad. XD

Flora stood, face-to-face with the Shadow. The edges of his dark cloak flapped carelessly in the breeze. He was short—not too terribly short, but shorter than Flora had thought. In his hands, he held a basket, a rope wrapped around the handle. He dropped the basket now, the rope landing coiled on the ground.

His face was only partially hidden by his hood. His eyes grew wide. His mouth hung open. A lop of dark hair fell gently across his forehead.

Flora stared, her heart shattering as she looked into his eyes.

He shook his head. His lips moved, as if to say something, but he was silent. He let out a sharp, shaky breath, almost like a sob, but closer to a groan.

She looked at him, her mind a blur, hardly believing what she was seeing.

Finally, she spoke his name, the word like a needle in her heart, the realization setting in.

"Owen?"

The boy looked at her through she shadows, his expression illegible. He sighed, and removed his hood. "Yeah. It's me."

Flora stood, staring. Her lips hung open, but no words came. There was nothing to say—nothing she could think of, anyway. She just stood, looking at him, growing sadder and sadder.

He shook his head slowly. "Flora, I…" Owen sighed, pushing his hair back with his fingers, looking down at his shoes. "You have to understand. I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know how this happened." He met her gaze, stepping forward. "You have to believe me. You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose."

Flora stepped back against the wall, startled.

Owen stopped. His shoulders slumped. His eyes grew wet. His lip quivered. "Please, Flora. You can't tell anyone. If you do—"

"Why are you here?" Her gaze was stiff. Her hand trembled.

He looked at her, then back at the basket he had left behind, then back at her. His face softened. He shook his head. "I'm sorry… I can't tell you."

She pursed her lips.

"Flora…" He moved forward, towards her, slowly. When he was only a few steps away, he paused, looking at her. He glanced down at the cold, black cloak he was wearing. He looked into Flora's eyes. He lifted his hands to his neck, and untied the string that held his cloak in place, letting the fabric drop lifelessly to the floor.

Flora watched, still quivering.

Looking up at her, Owen took one step more, then held out his hand. "Flora," he whispered, his eyes pleading, "trust me."

She looked at him, her heart beating like a hummingbird's wings. She looked at the basket, then at the cloak, then at Owen—at his simple grey sweater—at the bangs that lay across his forehead—at the dark shimmer in his eyes. She looked at his hand.

The three of them stood still in that cave—Flora, Owen, and time itself—like statues glazed with antiquity—like the hands on a broken timepiece—the air pressing in around them.

Flora stared into Owen's eyes, playing over in her head everything he had ever said. She thought about how kind he had been. She remembered the times he had helped—not only her—everyone. She turned over the things he had said about God—about grace and patience and love—everything she could think of—and how, over and over again, she had seen those things in him.

Once again, the boy stood before her, his feet on the rocks, the water swelling beneath his feet. He held out his hand. He looked into her eyes. He asked her to come with him.

She thought about trust.

She breathed in, and out. Hand trembling, she pushed herself away from the wall, towards him. She took one small, tentative step. The tap of her shoe on the cold stone echoed off the cave walls. She stood, looking at Owen as he looked at her.

As her chin quivered, a hot tear gathered in the corner of her eye, then slid down her cheek. Slowly, she shook her hear. "What about the Professor?"

Owen's dark eyes narrowed in pain, a sharp breath escaping his lips. He moved towards Flora a bit, then stopped. He looked at her. He lifted his hands helplessly. "I didn't… I didn't do that. I mean…" He sighed, pressing his hands into his eyes, hunching his shoulders. Suddenly, he lifted his head, grabbing Flora by the shoulders.

Flora jumped, then froze.

He was shaking. Tears streamed from his face, falling one-by-one onto her shoes. His face—it reminded Flora of someone, but she couldn't figure out who.

He gazed into her eyes, desperation etched into his expression. His mouth opened, and he whispered, his voice coarse and shivering, "Help me, Flora."

Her heart pounded, shooting up into her head, making her dizzy and confused. She watched the tears fall from his eyes. He watched the shaking of his arms. She glanced at the cloak and the basket behind him. She looked into his eyes, her fingers growing hot.

She thought about the Owen she'd known before—the boy who held out his hands on the rocks—the companion who sat by her on the beach—the friend who stood beside her and understood her as no one else did. He never wrote her off. He never left her behind. He never did anything to hurt anyone.

He was Owen.

He was Owen then, and he was Owen now.

He was Owen, he was her friend, and, right now, despite everything that was happening, he needed her.

He was Owen.

Flora looked at him, and moved forward slightly.

"Owen!" A shout jumped out at them from the cave entrance.

They started, turning towards the sound. Owen released his grip, the color draining from his cheeks.

There stood Emmy, Luke and Westley behind her, and an officer on either side.

I hope I'm not the only one who is at least slightly upset right now. Like... Yeah. Okay. XD

Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc. You guys are the best.

I'm not gonna promise to be more consistent with posting this summer, 'cause it's not gonna happen. XD

God bless!

-LittleBrotherSocket