Stefan pressed his body to Aimee's as they hustled through the air without option, and the temporary world dissolved out of existence. Aimee shrieked even though she could not hear herself. She just assumed she was screaming. She was sick of these near-death experiences, and she believed this had to be the worst because Stefan could not survive this! Her tears left her cheeks, swallowed by her hair and the wind as she fell, while her guilt was trapped inside of her. She glimpsed down past Stefan's shoulder and saw the green life of the swamp creep closer.

"Why do you have to be so selfish?" she bellowed her circumstantial hatred.

"Aimee, it's gonna be okay!" Stefan yelled back, over the sound of the fastest wind groping their ears.

The ground was waiting impatiently for them. Unknowingly gripping Stefan's shirt even tighter, Aimee wished with what was left of her that this fall was a joke, nothing more than a creation formed from a memory, or nightmare, in that brain simulator gizmo. She was going to wake up, screaming franticly, before her eyes would lock onto Stefan's. He would hug her warmly, the way only he could hug.

"I love you!" she uttered frankly, though the words felt like nothing compared to his sacrifice.

He pulled away slightly so that he could gaze into her eyes unhindered. She saw the fear that he masterfully camouflaged, but it faded. He was ready to die for her. She would not let him. With one lengthily deep breath, she spun over, grasping tightly to her companion in case they were to sprawl from each other. When they landed, she was the one facing the ground, she was the selfish one.

Time passed – who could recall how much. Aimee's eyelids opened measuredly as she lay on her back. She examined her hands, poking them up before her. Her cast was still there, snug on her right wrist.

"Okay, so I'm not in heaven," she mumbled, not yet in actual consciousness.

Her arms collapsed at her sides and sunk into a soft material, which she felt over and over before whooshing to a sit up. She saw high metal walls and a plush pillow of foliage beneath her, just wide enough for her and Stefan's bodies as they had unfurled from each other upon landing. When she saw him lying there, she filled with overjoy. He was motionless, his eyes were shut, but she knew that if she had lived, so had he. Her fists tightened around the stems and grass between her fingers – there was no soil, as if the plants simply sprouted out of each other – and then she crawled over to him with a sleepy, dizzy excitement.

"Stefan," she placed her hands on his shoulders and began to shake him awake. "Stefan?"

His own panicked gasp drew him into consciousness, and it was a while before his breaths steadied and he noticed Aimee there and the plush foliage under them, the monochromatic Arena walls. He sighed in relief, and then that sigh bubbled into thankful laughter. He hugged Aimee, the way only he could hug.

"I think that's enough for one day," he said.

Her head upon his chest, Aimee nodded jerkily. They helped each other up, and doing so was difficult on the pillow, but they managed. Finally, they left The Arena.

In the elevator, Stefan pressed the button to the underground parking, it was marked with a prominent U. Aimee wrapped her arms around one of his and laid her smile on his shoulder. They were alive. They were breathing, but even so, she kept thinking about how this was all even more dangerous than she'd imagined. And about how she had to accept it.

The elevator stopped, but its doors gave way on the second floor. Aimee's initially confused eyes lit up; it was Gavin – the real Gavin. He was the tangible, strawberry blonde, green-eyed Gavin she knew. She reached out with one hand and pulled him into the elevator to give him an unbreakable hug. He had that same mystified face the figure in The Arena had, but it became a euphoric expression, and he hugged her back.

"Why do you keep running off?" asked Aimee, solidly, precipitously pushing him away, and it felt to her like misplaced payback when he almost tripped, but he regained his balance in time.

"I was –" he trailed off, glancing attentively in another direction.

His left hand sprung out between the elevator doors to prevent them from closing. The elevator beeped as the sensors picked up.

"I'm sorry for acting weird earlier, but I hope this makes up for it," he gestured three people, all of which Aimee knew, into the elevator. "I found your parents."

Aimee was so elated that she had Stefan's hand in a chokehold. "They're alright," she said, half to Stefan and half to herself.

The third person was Janet Summers, who was wearing a smile for once, but Aimee was beginning to think that those eyes of hers were permanently woeful. Aimee rushed out of the elevator, and her parents were pulled into the tightest embrace that she could give.

"Hello, Darling."

"Care to explain what's going on?"

They chorused.

Even if they had the same voice she would know who had said what. Her eyes widened at Molly's question, and she hugged her tighter, trying to ignore it.

Explain. The word echoed in her mind.

"Aimee, why are there people after us?" she questioned.

She pulled away from them and in to deep confusion, "Us?"

"There were the army men at the restaurant, and I was at work when –" she paused, recollecting a name, "Gavin told me that we were in danger."

Aimee looked at him with pure worry. "They're in danger, why? I understand me, but they didn't do anything! Is Abba after them?"

Stefan, who stood at her side, touched her shoulder gently to keep her from worrying. She gasped with surprise as his touch was cold and sudden, but he comfortingly said: "We should get you all home, explanations can wait until dinner."

Slowly, Aimee laid her hand upon his. Her parents shared a glance and nodded together. Soon, they were all in the elevator, and everyone but Aimee and Stefan stood still and awkwardly. The two of them smiled adoringly at each other, holding hands in a way that no one would notice. But Gavin saw them and soaked up their joy for a brief moment, before forcing himself to turn away. His heart had hastily become as heavy as a whale on land. He would not deny his feelings for Aimee, but tucked them away for Stefan's sake. He would remain loyal to him, no matter what. He owed him that much.

The doors opened.

"Ms. Summers, I have space for one," he uttered.

"I'll be staying here, Malec," she smiled. She was the only person who addressed him by his surname. Long ago, Stefan did the same.

Gavin walked across the parking lot and to the amethyst McLaren he had parked beside the Griffiths' Rover when they had arrived. Meanwhile, Janet hugged Stefan goodbye. Slowly, after a while, Stefan let go. She waited in the elevator, hooking her hands together in front of her square buckled belt, until they departed. In the distance, Cliff was jokingly expressing his desire to drive Gavin's car.

Gavin bent into his seat leisurely, distracted by Aimee and Stefan again as they climbed into the New Beetle in the bay across from him. Molly and Cliff pulled out, Gavin buckled his seatbelt and tailed them, and Aimee and Stefan left after him. Aimee relaxed in the passenger seat, and the radio was on, set at a low volume. Some classical music played, which completely contradicted her assumption – or anyone's for that matter – of what Stefan listened to.

The Maid with the Flaxen Hair, Aimee's ears recognised.

She sat, carefully listening to every melodic element, contemplating that title – Flaxen Hair... blonde hair. And then it struck her: even if she got home and sat at that ideal dinner table for five, she had one used-to-be-blonde to consider – another something to explain to her parents – and the image of her home was suddenly much less wonderful.