A/N: Funny background to this – I actually got the idea for this after watching Wes Craven's Red Eye, though mostly from the first twenty minutes because it sets itself up as a romantic comedy. Naturally, I think Sybil/Tom are the ideal romantic comedy couple, so that's how this was born. No, Tom does not do what Cillian Murphy does in Red Eye, so don't worry – Sybil's perfectly safe :) . It's more of my idea of how the movie would be if it actually was a romantic comedy and not a thriller.

Hope you enjoy!


Lighter Than Air

Chapter 1 – The Delay

Rain, Sybil thought. It had to rain on a day like today.

She didn't mind rain most days. Actually, she rather liked it, the way that it made the bricks smell and the grass dewy. But today it was shaping up to be worse than an inconvenience.

After her stint at Emory University Hospital in Atlanta that had lasted six months, Sybil was more than happy to return home to London. She had booked her ticket out of Hartsfield-Jackson, she had allowed herself enough time to pack all her things, and she had ordered her taxi to come to her apartment earlier than required so that she'd have plenty of time to make it through the airport (she was well aware that Hartsfield-Jackson was a madhouse at the best of times).

But the forecast, which had been continuously pleasant for the past week, had took a turn for the absolute worse: thunderstorms, heavy downpour, lightning, the works. Right as Sybil's taxi arrived at the apartment to pick her up the rain started to come down, and it only got worse on the drive to the airport. And if Atlanta traffic was dreadful on sunny days, then it was horrendous in a rainstorm. Either the cars on the highway were at a standstill or the taxi was swerving violently to avoid colliding with some plonker who shouldn't have been allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle. Almost every minute Sybil was checking her watch, noting as time seemed to race past her, the minutes counting down to her check-in time.

She was slumped against the leather seats, head turned to the window which the rainwater cascaded down, when her mobile phone rang.

"Hello?" she said, trying her best to sound chipper even though she was frustrated beyond belief.

"Sybil? Hi, it's Mary." Mary sounded groggy, like she hadn't had much sleep lately.

"Oh, hey," Sybil said.

"You doing alright? Are you at the airport yet?"

"No," Sybil sighed. "Stuck in traffic, at the moment. The rain here is so heavy, it's worse than when it was hurricane season."

"Oh dear," Mary murmured. "How far away are you from the airport?"

"I'm not sure," Sybil said. She looked at her watch again. "I'm supposed to check in in fifteen minutes. I honestly didn't think it would be this bad. There must be a couple accidents on the road."

Mary made a huffy noise on the other end. "That's just convinced me never to take a trip to Georgia."

"I can't imagine you ever wanting to leave London," Sybil quipped. "So, is there any specific reason that you called me?"

"Not really, I just thought you'd be at the airport right now and have time to chat. Your flight's at ten, correct?"

"Yeah, red-eye flight on Delta. It was the only one I could book that was non-stop to Heathrow. Although with this weather I think it'll be delayed or cancelled altogether."

"Then relax—"

"Mary, I can't relax, I don't know what's going to happen when I get there," Sybil exclaimed. The stress was getting to her.

"Alright, just take a deep breath," Mary replied. "You'll get there when you get there. Is there any way you can check on the flight status right now?"

"I can't get an Internet connection from inside a cab, Mary," Sybil grumbled, "and I don't want to risk using mobile data and making my bill go up any higher."

"I see," Mary remarked. Suddenly her voice went garbled, and Sybil couldn't tell what Mary was saying anymore. Was the connection going out?

"Hello? Mary, are you still there?" Sybil pressed the voice closer to her mouth.

"What?" Mary's voice became clear again. "Sorry, that was just Matthew. Nothing important."

"You sure you want him to hear that?" Sybil joked.

Mary gave an exasperated groan that sounded like static through the receiver.

Sybil smirked, then frowned. "Wait a minute – what time is it over there, two in the morning? Why are the both of you still up?"

"Why do you think?" Mary sounded incredibly annoyed that Sybil didn't even try to make a guess. "George! Matthew's feeding him right now and I can't sleep."

"Ah," Sybil said sheepishly. "I should have realized it. It just seems so weird to me. The last time I saw you, you were as round as a planet—"

Mary snorted. "Thanks, Sybil. Really appreciate that."

"—and I haven't seen George yet. In my mind I keep thinking you're still pregnant."

"Believe me, I'm glad I'm not. Though I'm not sure that being forced awake in the middle of the night is much better than walking around like, as you said, a fucking planet."

Sybil heard Matthew's indistinct voice on the other end. Mary rebuked him with, "For God's sake, he's a baby; he can't understand a word I'm saying. So I can swear all I like, thank you very much."

Domestic tranquility, Sybil thought ironically to herself. But even if Mary and Matthew's new lives as parents seemed awfully chaotic, Sybil wouldn't mind being in their position. Being single had its perks, but she didn't believe she would spend the rest of her life going on random dates with people she'd never call back and not having the experience of parenthood. Seeing her sister and her husband go through it had only fueled her desire to have a married life. Of course, her work hadn't left much time to help that, but now that she was heading home, maybe her prospects would change.

If she ever got home, because at the rate the taxi was crawling, she would not be home for another century.

"Anyway," Mary continued, "you should call me back when you get to the airport and update me on the situation, okay?"

"No, I won't bother you anymore," Sybil replied. "You need to sleep."

"I'm not going to get to sleep for at least another week. I'm planning on a Netflix movie marathon for the rest of the night."

"Just try," Sybil insisted. "It's not going to make things any better if you don't try to get sleep. Sleeplessness is the worst condition a new mother can suffer from."

"Of course you would say that, the family nurse," Mary said dryly.

"I'm serious," Sybil said.

The taxi jolted forward, and Sybil wondered for a second if the traffic had finally cleared.

She smacked hard against the seat when the driver hit the brakes again. He muttered under his breath, "Damn it. These people couldn't drive straight to save their lives."

Sybil imagined Mary frowning as she asked, "Everything alright there?"

"Couldn't be better," Sybil said sardonically. On a more sisterly note, she added, "I can't wait to see you soon. And meet George, obviously. I've missed all of you so much."

"Oh stop that. We'll see each other tomorrow," Mary said.

Sybil sighed. "I just wish I was there already. I wish I were on the plane right now, not having to deal with this weather or any other shit I may have to deal with at the airport."

"You'll get through it, I promise."

"Yes, but will I go insane by the end of it?"

"If you haven't gone insane from six months in America, then I'm sure you will be fine."

"Thanks. Listen, I'm going to hang up now, let you get some rest."

"I won't get any, but alright. Have a safe flight."

"Thanks. Bye."

Sybil ended the call and slouched against the seat again. Her guess was that the taxi had only moved a mile during the phone call. She checked her watch yet again and groaned. "Bloody hell."

"Hey, don't worry, you'll still catch your flight," the taxi driver said.

"I've got ten minutes," Sybil retorted.

"Right," the driver mumbled.

Sybil's mind was in a daze for the rest of the ride. She had had absolutely no trouble leaving London, but going back was turning out to be a bloody pain in the arse. Even if the flight was delayed, it would probably be so for a really long time, and if it was cancelled she would need to make a hotel reservation for the night and then make sure another flight was booked. She was already exhausted, and likely was going to be in a very, very bad mood by the time she got on a plane.

She thought she was going to scream with relief when the driver announced that they had made it. "Here we are. International terminal."

"Thank you so much," Sybil said rapidly as she rushed to pay the driver in cash. "Keep the change."

She got out of the car and the driver opened trunk so she could get her suitcases out of the back. Glancing quickly at her watch, she saw that she had two minutes.

"Shit," she grumbled as she shifted her backs around and dragged them through the automatic doors. She hastened through the terminal, trying to find the screens that listed the flight statuses. She wasn't sure what she wanted to see listed for her flight, if it was to be on time, delayed or cancelled. Definitely not cancelled, though; that would aggravate her even more than she already was.

She pushed through, the wheels of her suitcases clattering against the floor. When she finally caught sight of those blue-tinged screens she hurried over, getting as close as she could through the circle of other travellers surrounding the screens. She peered at the fuzzy televisions, searching for where her flight was listed.

Atlanta – London – 9:55 – Delayed

Thank god; the plane wasn't going to leave without her.

But standing in the check-in line for over half-an-hour wasn't much of an improvement. It seemed almost every flight had either been delayed or cancelled, and there was a whole sea of people at the check-in lines. Every once in a while someone would call out to the lines, asking for anyone whose flight to Paris or Montreal had been cancelled so they could be rerouted. Sybil's feet ached even though she was wearing her combat boots, her most comfortable pair of shoes, and she was starting to get real tired of staring at one person's back for the duration of the wait. She had pulled out a paperback from her carry-on to pass the time, but she was constantly on alert for information about her flight or when the line she was standing in inched forward a tiny bit.

Out of sheer boredom, Sybil wondered if she should call Mary back, just so she had somebody to talk to. She doubted that Mary had actually taken her advice and gone back to bed. But at the moment she started to take her phone from her pocket, another employee started calling out to the lines, and she snapped her head up to listen to her.

"Anyone who was scheduled on the 10:17 flight to Toronto, please come to the front of the line now so we can reroute you. Again, anyone who was on the 10:17 to Toronto, if you want to get out of Atlanta tonight …"

I sure would like to get out of Atlanta tonight, Sybil thought. She didn't have any ill feelings about Atlanta after her stay, but more than anything she wanted to get home as soon as possible.

She was about to return to her book, but in the next line over, a man raised his voice so harshly that she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"This is ridiculous! How many of us have been standing in this damn line for over an hour?" he snapped.

"I understand sir, but these people will miss the last flight tonight if they don't—" the woman tried to assert.

"Oh sure, so it doesn't matter that I've been rerouted already and I'm still standing here …"

Sybil rolled her eyes. Another corporate arsehole that thinks he can get his way by complaining. She saw enough of those at the hospital front desk, and they were all hell to deal with.

"Sir please, if you could just—" the woman started, holding up her hand.

The man ignored her. "Who's in charge here? Get 'em over here and get this line moving for Christ's sake!"

Sybil slapped her book closed – hearing people gripe like that, even if they were tired and frustrated, was absurd and she could not stand it one bit. "Sir, back off. Don't hound her."

The man turned to Sybil. "I wasn't talking to you."

"No, I realize that, but I'm telling you to leave her alone," Sybil said firmly. "I'm sure she's doing the best she can to help us all—"

"Well she's not doing much," the man spat.

From behind Sybil, a hand reached out and grabbed the man's arm. Sybil whipped her head around to see someone, about her age, who was looking plenty exhausted and just as pissed off at the whinging business man as she was.

"Please sir, she's right. Don't bully the poor woman, she's just taking orders and doesn't have any control over what she can tell us. And she's probably been working for far too long and has already had to deal with enough crap today."

"Yeah well, I'm just trying to—" the businessman said sharply.

"Yes, and she gets it, but I highly doubt any of this is her fault. You arguing is keeping her from doing her job, so just give her a break," the man behind Sybil returned.

The businessman's mouth hung open but he said nothing – Sybil guessed that he was just stunned that strangers were dissuading him from making trouble. She shot the man a warning look that Mary often flashed when being were being difficult and needed to be stopped.

Finally, the businessman wrenched his arm out of the other man's grasp and leaned against his suitcase, glaring. "I'm going to file a complaint against this airline when I get to Montreal."

"I'm sure they'll be looking forward to it," Sybil muttered.

She turned around to face the man who backed her up. Something about him had struck her as odd, but certainly not in the way he looked. He was maybe a little older than her, and only a bit taller than her. And there was no denying that he was definitely attractive in her mind. His brown hair was mussed, as if he had already spent several hours on a plane. But it was his blue eyes that made Sybil's mind utter an enamoured whoa.

She smiled shyly at the man. "Thank you for that."

The man shrugged. "It was nothing, really. You started it," he said. "I mean, you stood up for that poor woman first."

"Yeah, I suppose," Sybil said. She brought her voice lower since the haughty businessman was still standing in the line next to them and was well within hearing range. "I just can't stand people who act like they run the universe."

"Same here," the man replied.

Sybil smiled and nodded. "Are you from Ireland, by any chance?"

The man chuckled. "The accent gave it away, yeah?"

"Of course," Sybil admitted. "A voice like yours stands out here."

"Well, so does yours," the man said. "In more ways than one."

Sybil laughed out loud at this. "I've had it pointed out to me plenty."

She worried her lip, wondering if she was blushing just a little. The man cleared his throat.

"So, you on this insanely delayed flight to London as well?" he asked.

Sybil sighed and answered, "Yep. Though at this rate I'm not sure I'll ever get back."

"I'm sure you will," the man said. "Delays don't last forever."

"I know, it just seems that …" Sybil trailed off. She had only just met this guy standing behind her, she didn't even know his name – but suddenly she felt like spilling out her thoughts and frustrations to him. Get a grip, you dolt, she scolded herself.

"Er, never mind. It's nothing," she said, ducking her head in her awkwardness.

"Okay," the man said, not appearing to be bothered by Sybil cutting off the conversation. "I'm sorry, I was bothering you. It's my fault."

"It's alright. It's not your fault," Sybil told him. "I'm just getting ahead of myself. It's been a long day."

"I understand," the man said.

Sybil turned away and faced the check-in desks again, opening her book to resume her chapter. She could feel the man's blue eyes staring at the back of her head – not in a sort of threatening way, but just curious.

And frankly, though she wasn't conscious of it, so was she.


A/N: I lived in Atlanta when I was kid, so I chose the airport to be Hartsfield-Jackson and for Sybil to work at Emory mainly for personal reasons. I applied to Emory University last year, but I didn't get in, though I think Sybil would have no problem getting a job there ;).

I hope you like it so far!