Clive Dove was entirely unsure how he had made his way out of prison after only three years of sitting in the boring old cell, sometimes being gifted for his eternal patience and obedience with a newspaper. But all the guards who knew him said Clive was like an unsolved mystery. That's what he felt like. He didn't even know himself anymore.

Once upon a time, he had been incredibly arrogant, but he figured that arrogance would get him nowhere. And he had made the right decision in removing the arrogance, but now he felt it was wrong, because he no longer knew himself. He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and tried to think of where he should go first...

Home was the logical, rational answer. However, Clive could simply not return home. He began walking, not knowing where his feet would take him, ignoring the people pointing at him and whispering. He ignored them, but for the few brave who came up to him and insulted him in his face, Clive would coolly reply, "I'd like to see your reaction if someone killed your parents and destroyed your house in one fell swoop." That did the trick and the people would usually swear at him then disappear.

When a young woman approached Clive, he expected the usual insults. But something about her face was puzzling, as well as the fact she did not obstruct his path, just tag on beside him. Clive recognised her, but he couldn't put a name to her innocent little face.

"Clive?" the young woman asked. Clive looked at her and suddenly the pieces of the puzzle clicked. He was walking along with Flora Reinhold, the girl who he had kidnapped, if only for the simple fact she was a girl and wasn't smart enough to break out, like 'Celeste'. "Clive, are you listening?"

"I'm listening," Clive replied in the monotone voice he had become accustomed to, but this was the first time Flora had heard his voice in three years, and she was not used to the monotony in his voice.

"What happened to you, Clive?" Flora asked, taking his hand in hers. She hardly noticed the people who stared at her and whispered about her, but she heard the whispers because now they had practically turned into shouts. "You've changed."

"If I didn't change, I would be stuck in prison for longer," Clive replied in the same monotone voice. Flora hated it. She preferred the voice that was filled with emotions, perhaps she even liked the arrogance.

"Um, are you hungry?" Flora questioned. Clive nodded slightly and Flora pulled him off his course and took him into a small caf off the road. Clive ordered a hot chocolate, one of his favourite drinks, and one that he hadn't been able to have for years. The prison had provided an above average standard of drinks - coffee, tea, water and on holidays the prisoners would get juice. The best three days in prison were Clive's three Christmases.

Christmas in prison was the one time the harsh tensions between all the prisoners evaporated. The prisoners were allowed to have former luxuries that they had taken for granted - the radio would play from morning until lights out, the prisoners would each get a present - some prisoners got board games, some got books, some got other things. Unless it was a book, the prisoners would have to abandon their luxury at the end of December. For the book-reading prisoners, they kept their book until they finished it.

Clive always got books, and then the meals were fantastic. A piece of turkey for all the prisoners, with potatoes and some other fruits and vegetables, with all kinds of juices and chocolate milk for all.

Flora and Clive sat in silence at the table, Clive still reflecting on his wondrous Christmases inside his head, until Flora interrupted. "So, uh, what was prison like?"

"Better than you expect, but still awful," Clive replied, taking a sip. His entire body was flushed with warmth and it relaxed as the liquid entered his body. Flora looked at him with fascination.

"Um, okay..." Flora mumbled, entirely unsure what to say. The two spent the next ten minutes in silence until Clive stood up. "Where are you going?" Flora gazed up at him with wide eyes.

"Somewhere," Clive replied. Flora stood up and grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't go," she pleaded. Clive smirked down at her, flooded with his near-trademark arrogance. He planted a kiss on her forehead and turned away.

"I'll be waiting here tomorrow at two o' clock," he replied and walked away. Flora knew where she was going to be the next day at two o' clock.

By the time the next day came around, Flora was in the caf by half one and Clive had apologised to everyone. Dimitri Allen had moved to Scotland the previous year after being released from prison, so Clive had made that apology by mobile phone. Everyone else but Flora, he had apologised to in person.

"I'm sorry," Clive said as he sat down, drinking his hot chocolate. "For kidnapping you. For making your life an ugly mess."

"It's fine," Flora said, mystified by Clive's sudden apology. "...you know what we're like?"

"No, what are we like?" Clive asked. Flora blushed slightly as she said,

"We're like two lone flowers in a field. We should be together, but we're not."

"How about we remedy that?" Clive asked with a mischievous smirk. He leaned forward and kissed Flora - not on her forehead, but on her lips.

And suddenly, they were not two lone flowers in a field. They were two flowers together in a field.