Thank you to everyone and anyone who replied. So much

"Toss me some clothes, will you, Fletch?" Stephanie called from inside the bathroom, towelling off her hair. Dropping the towel to the floor, she stretched luxuriously, listening to him opening and shutting drawers outside.

The door handle turned and she gasped, snatching up the towel from the ground to cover herself.

Fletcher raised a wry eyebrow. "Not like I haven't seen everything."

"Fletcher Renn!"

He turned, laughing softly to himself. "I'm going to grab my clothes from downstairs. Should I put the kettle on?"

"Yes, do, posh sir," she snickered. He mimicked flipping his hair and then left, tossing her a quick grin over his bare shoulder.

Stephanie chuckled softly as she pulled on the big sweater and leggings Fletcher had selected, then ran a brush through her hair and twisted it up onto her head. She pulled on socks and boots. As she bent to grab her phone, her eyes alighted upon the open box of condoms. Stephanie blushed, then immediately had to laugh at her reaction. Grow up, girl. After all that was nothing to regret; it was pretty nice...actually try mind-blowing.

"And also, quit with the third-person inner monologue," she whispered out loud.

Fletcher was standing at the kitchen table when she got downstairs, pouring tea, back to her. Stephanie pulled him into a hug from behind, resting her chin on the shoulder of his fresh shirt.

"Sugar?"

"Two please."

"I know you mean three."

Stephanie smirked and took the mug he held out to her, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He pulled her closer, nibbling on her bottom lip, and she melted. Fletcher twisted away and sauntered to the fruit bowl and grabbed an orange.

"What are you so weird for?" Stephanie teased. He pulled a face and lobbed the orange at her. She shrieked, somehow managing to set her tea down, and then caught the orange with her left hand.

"What the -"

He burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Sorry. Your face. Precious." He barely managed to contain another bout of giggled.

"Why did you chuck a bloody great orange at me?"

"Reflexes." Fletcher wiggled his eyebrows. Stephanie rolled her eyes.

"You're such a..."

"Yeah?"

"Such a..."

He kissed her again, running his fingers through her hair.

"Such a good kisser," she gasped. He threw his head back and howled until his face was red. Stephanie bumped him with her hip and went to drink her tea.

Fletcher eventually calmed down enough to come sit by her. As they sipped their drinks in companiable proximity, he softly said her name.

She looked up.

"Are you angry with me for last night - for what we did together?" His brow was creased and his eyes a serious deep blue.

"What? No, why would I be?"

"I dunno. I just wanted to be sure that I didn't hurt you in any way or make you do something you didn't want to." He looked away. She brought his gaze back to hers with a hand on his cheek.

"I regret nothing. That was the best night of my life, and I'm not about to forget it. Ever."

Stephanie watched him blink as her words sunk in. A little wave of relief washed over his face, and the color of his eyes seemed to visibly lighten. He smiled.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you don't ever look at things closely enough?" she sighed.

"What do you mean?"

She studied the angle of his brow to his nose, the way his earlobe connected to his jaw, the shadows beneath his bone structure. "There's a freckle at the corner of your lips that I never saw before." She brushed it softly with a finger. "You're so flawless, even so close up."

He leaned into her hand. "I feel like I've looked closely at you. To draw for me is to see."

"Can I see? This sketches from class?" Stephanie whispered, excitement creeping into her voice. Fletcher's color rose a little in his cheeks. "Please don't think I'm crazy. I just...have quite a few."

She smiled as he reached into his bag and drew out a leather-bound notebook. Taking his hand, she led him to the sofa and sat down more comfortably. As she opened the notebook, the sheer number of sketches dawned on her. Many were just small, rough ones, capturing the moment, but many too were detailed, fine, and utterly, chillingly beautiful. His skill shocked her. As she slowly turned the creamy pages, Fletcher stroked her hair, watching her reactions.

Stephanie saw herself tapping a pencil on her chin, laughing, raising an eyebrow and scratching away at an essay. Each sketch carried with it a life that seemed to bring it off the page, to move and speak and inhale and exhale. A study of her lips in profile, barely touched by a slender set of fingers stopped her. "Fletch, these are amazing," she breathed. "Are those you fingers?" He nodded.

She continued reverently turning pages.

The last study was of her, lying on her side, eyes closed. The wreckage of a car was spread out around her. A dark stain shadowed the concrete by her skull.

Her heart lurched. Fletcher sat up abruptly, closing the book with force. He got up and replaced it in his bag, and she sat stock still. It had been so disturbingly realistic.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Stephanie...I'm so sorry -"

She shook her head. "It was...well drawn. I'm glad I saw it." She heard him sigh and turned to face him. "I mean it. Don't feel bad."

Fletcher ran a hand down the side of her face, softly and gently. "Okay," he whispered.

"So what's the plan for today?" Stephanie asked, forcing a little brightness into her voice. In truth, she was haunted by the image, but she didn't want to ruin this day. "It's stunning outside," she continued. "Walk with me?"

Fletcher nodded and smiled, but his eyes were far away.

Their intertwined hands swung slightly as Stephanie and Fletcher walked through the quiet mid-morning. A few early spring blossoms clung to the branches of the trees lining the walkway of the silent town. A soft breeze lifted the stray hairs off Stephanie's neck as she watched her boots tapping the cobbled sidewalk. Poetic words drifted across her mind, forming into random shapes, creating stanzas with a life of their own.

"Hrm?"

She looked up.

"You were whispering."

Stephanie blushed. "I wasn't aware of that. Sorry."

Fletcher squeezed her fingers. "Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging."

She laughed as he winked, but he stopped and swung her to face him, taking both of her hands in his.

"Composing poetry."

"Can I hear?" His eyelashes seemed impossibly long in the golden light. Stephanie breathed in, taking in the pale cherry blossoms drifting from the tree arching over their heads.

"In a snow of
Spring to alight in summer
The seasons blur
Into seconds spent with you.
If I'm losing me,
So be it,
For to drown in an ocean of you
Would be to breathe in time itself,
Ensnared as I am,
A fool caught in
A wind of the stars.
So in this enclave of atmosphere

Let me breathe in the scent of
Cherry blossom breaths -"

Fletcher grabbed her and hugged her, so tightly that it almost hurt. She could feel his ribs heaving against her own, his breathing unsteady in her ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when he finally released her. "That was beautiful."

Stephanie looked down. "Thanks," she mumbled. He slung an arm around her shoulders and carried on walking, cuddling her in close, not speaking.

The wind picked up a little, making her nose and ears turn red. They took another turn and started down a path crossing the park. A patch of daisies waved off to the left, and with a peck on his cheek, Stephanie veered away from Fletcher.

She crouched, picking a handful and breathing in their sweet smell, tossing a smile back at Fletcher standing watching her from the path. She straightened up, and headed back to him, a broad grin creasing her features. "Flowers, darling?" she teased.

Fletcher's eyes locked on something over her shoulder. His shoulders tightened. "Drop them, Stephanie."

Stephanie smiled in confusion. Surely he was joking.

Fletcher looked at her, and she could see something roiling in his eyes. "I said, drop them!" He snatched her wrist and her hand sprang open. The daisies fell, landing sprawled and wilted on the gravel.

"What was that for?" Stephanie demanded. Fletcher ignored her and pulled her hand towards him, flat out and facing upwards.

"Shit," he murmured under his breath.

Stephanie tried to pull away, but he held on, whipping his head up to glance at something behind her again, and then bent closer to study her palm. A slight shadow seemed to have appeared beneath her skin, but other than that there was nothing.

"Fletch -"

"Do you see that? Something twisting, glimmering, over there? Like a rope, almost?"

Stephanie turned, yanking her hand back. Yes, she could see something, like a mirage almost, stretching from the patch of flowers, up the hill and disappearing over the rise. "Yes, I do. What does it matter?"

Fletcher cursed again. "We need to go. Now."

"What's going on, Fletcher?"

He ignored her and turned, began striding off deeper into the woods.
Stephanie didn't move.

When Fletcher realised she wasn't following, he turned back to face her. "Stephanie. Now."

"No. You aren't telling me something."

"Now is not a good time, Steph."

She felt a wave of anger rising. "No. I need to know some things. How did you know I wasn't a virgin?"

"Stephanie..."

She stomped her foot. "Answer me, Renn."

Fletcher glanced at something behind her and a look of panic rose in his eyes. Stephanie swung around to look. Two people had appeared at the top of the hill.

She whirled back to face Fletcher. "You know what, I don't even care who's watching. You're pissing me off. You don't tell me anything. Why don't you ever talk about your parents? Heck, I don't even know where you live. And how did you know what the car accident looked like?" Stephanie was yelling by now. "And who the hell showed up at my house at three in the morning that you were talking too?"

"Shh." Fletcher's eyes were wide, and he tried to catch her arm but she jerked back.

"And who the fuck is Valkyrie Cain?" she shouted.

Something shot past her head, so close she felt the rush of wind, and collided with a tree to her right, exploding. Stephanie was flung off her feet. She crashed to the concrete, rolling, ears ringing as the wind was knocked from her. In her peripheral vision, Stephanie glimpsed the two figures from before sprinting down the incline towards her. Then Fletcher was on his knees by her side, shouting something in slow motion that she couldn't hear. The raging fire behind him that had been the old oak shot everything through with a sinister orange light. The world tilted as Fletcher pulled her to her feet, and then sound came rushing back.

"We have to go now!" he yelled, grabbing her hand and taking off. Stephanie glanced back as she sprinted, catching a split-second glimpse of the two men. One had seemed to have darkness, a kind of moving, solid, matte and cloudy shadow, sharply outlining him. The other had been holding –

"Fire!" she shrieked as another ball of flame screamed over their heads and exploded against an overhanging branch. A cloud of burning cinders descended on them as Stephanie and Fletcher sprinted underneath.

"Not...possible..." she hissed. "This isn't...no." A sob slipped from between her tightly clenched teeth.

With Fletcher in front, grasping her fingers, they burst from the burning woods into the main street. "Run, Steph, don't stop," gasped Fletcher. She clenched her fists and put on an extra boost of speed, streaking across the concrete.
As she glanced back again, lungs burning and gasping for breath, Stephanie saw the pair emerging onto the street. The man with the shadows knelt down.

She flung her gaze back forwards, focused on running, but a sudden sharp pain ignited in her right hand. A pattern of lines, in black, where the stems of the daisies had lain, laced her skin. She screamed as the lines, now stretching up onto her wrist, reared up, and then tore completely free of her skin. The road buckled and rose up beneath her, asphalt crumpling as a shadow struck it, and she fell, rolling, feeling blood from her torn hand misting her face. Fletcher cried out, thrown high in the air.

"Fletch..." Stephanie wheezed. He stretched out a hand to her and she barely grazed his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes meeting hers. The world disappeared and everything went white for a moment.

And then she was lying on her kitchen floor, fingers still barely touching Fletcher's.

He scrambled up and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her to lean against the sink. Her sink. In her kitchen.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned softly and rested her forehead on the cool steel of the tap. "W-what just happened?" The force of everything caught up to her and her legs collapsed beneath her.

"Stephanie. Keys. Where are your car keys?" Fletcher took her face in his hands.

"I...island." Her body seemed to have gone on autopilot as she pointed. Fletcher snatched the keys off the counter and whirled back to face her. "Oh, hell," he murmured softly. "Your hand."

She looked down. Blood from the hanging flaps and pulpy mess that had been the skin of her hand dripped onto the tiles of the kitchen floor.

He dove to his knees and dragged a first aid kit from a bottom cabinet, then pulled open another drawer and grabbed a wad of cash from it.

"What's going on?" said Stephanie quietly.

"We need to leave. Please trust me. I promise you will know everything but right now the...people from before...are coming for us."

He held open the garage door and mechanically, Stephanie stepped through.

I'm back! Still breathing!

So anyways...hrm. Tell me what you think