This is a warning that this is my first Pan Am fanfiction, so it's likely to be a bit out of character. Furthermore, it's essentially holiday-themed drabble. That being said, I hope you enjoy it anyway!
"Thank you for flying Pan Am." I smile tightly, so unnaturally, for a moment questioning if they can see right through me. "Thank you for flying Pan Am." I repeat to the next set of passengers, sounding startlingly like a scratched record. "We hope to see you fly with us again soon." I throw in for good measure, watching as the last of the them shuffle off the plane.
I remain still for a moment, glued in place as I watch them vanish from sight on the tarmac. They seem flustered- in some sort of a rush, yet all the while excited. I'd willing to bet that each of the little clusters of families has grand plans for the evening: luxurious restaurants, or possibly home-cooked meals prepared in the kitchens of their suites. My thoughts are shaken as a pointy elbow gentle jabs me in the side.
"Is everything alright?" she asks, a faint accent dancing across her words as she speaks, only making me feel even more lonesome.
I turn to meet her curious brown eyes, "Yes, Colette, I'm fine." For a moment I feel bad for lying to her, but that is only for a moment. "Thank you." I plaster on another artificial smile, earning an satisfactory look as she heads to gather her bags- there's no denying that she's excited to be back in her city.
As she leaves, I take a seat, watching two slightly familiar stewardesses gather their bags and step off the plane, chatting away with smiles on their faces. I wonder how shameless it is of me to wish that Kate and Maggie were here here instead. However, there is nothing I can do about the matter from half a world away.
I bet they're at home, maybe even together, watching the Macy's Thanksgivings Day Parade. People and balloons marching down the street as people gather on the sidewalks- a sight so familiar on the television screens throughout my childhood. They might be seeing it in real life. Or maybe they're at home, with friends or family, having a nice turkey, with mashed potatoes, cranberries, stuffing, and cheerful conversation. And here I am alone in Paris.
Hearing approaching conversation, I sigh and begin to rise from my seat, knowing that I have to leave the plane sooner or later, even if it does seem to be the last piece of home in this country.
"Woah," Ted exclaims, abruptly ending his conversation with Dean, "Why haven't you left yet-trying to stow away? You know Pan Am has strict policies against-"
"I was just leaving." I announce, cutting him off, as the thought of walking off the plane into Paris suddenly doesn't seem quite as bad.
I gather my bags from the small storeroom, one in each hand, and fumble to shut the door. I jump a bit as an arm reaches out from behind me to shut it for me.
"Are you alright?" I hear a familiar voice from behind me, and reluctantly turn around to find myself under his focused gaze.
"Yeah, sure, I'm fine." I look past him to find that Dean has left to some other part of the cabin.
"No," he says distinctly, "Are you alright?" he pronounces each word slowly, and I reluctantly look him in the eye. Brown eyes gaze back at me, intense and tinted with some other emotion which I can't quite place. There's a slight wrinkle between his brow which is strangely becoming. I shake the thought and adamantly deny anything.
"Alright," he is clearly losing his patience as he takes a deep breath and reaches his arm out, successfully pinning me between himself and the closet door. I look past him to the exit, musing over how something can be so close yet so far away. He frustratedly shakes his head slightly, sighing, "Are you hurt?"
"No, of course not." I reply, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking away.
"Did a passenger say something inappropriate?" There's a noticeable change in his tone which causes me to turn to him once again.
I survey his tightened expression for a moment, yet he is the one to look past me this time, "No… no…" I shake my head slightly and watch his expression soften.
"Are you sure you feel well?" he persists, his eyes probe my face as he begins surveying me once again, "Are you sick?"
"No, Ted. No."
"No, what?" he asks, "No you don't feel well or no you're not sick?" I open my mouth to speak, but he doesn't give me the chance. "Damn it, Laura- are we really going to play twenty questions like this or can you just tell me what's wrong so we can fix it and move on?" He pulls his arm back and turns away, making a point of scanning the cabin for any sign of Dean.
"It's Thanksgiving." I reply, my voice so small and weak that even I can hardly make out what I'm saying.
"Excuse me?" he turns around to face me.
"It's Thanksgiving."
"It's Thanksgiving," he echoes, as if it's the most amusing thing in the world, "It's Thanksgiving."
I shoot a glare in his direction as a single chuckle escapes him. He silences himself and regains his composure before returning his focus toward me, the look of amusement never leaving his face.
"It's Thanksgiving… and I'm here alone, miles away from not only my family, but also my entire country!" I choke out, my voice escaping much more transparently than the emotionless tone I had been hoping for. Refusing to meet his eyes, I drop my gaze to my luggage, shifting both of my bags onto one arm before stepping toward the unblocked exit.
"Laura," he calls out as I reach the third stair. I stop moving for a moment, but do not turn around, "I'm sorry." He seems sincere, but I have no need for apologies in the first place- I need to be home. "It's your first holiday away from home, isn't it?" His voice drops an octave at this, as he comes to the realization.
Entwining my hands together, I simply answer, "Yes."
"I remember my first holiday overseas- it was Thanksgiving, too. I was in the navy. There was no feast, but every one of us gave thanks for another day of life and that our families were home, safe and never having seen the things that we were seeing." He sounded so far away.
I turn around to have a look at him, but his eyes are glazed over as he stares into the distance. For a moment I am in Jakarta, holding the antenna as the shuttle launches, and I see Ted's face glowing from more than just the wash of light from the television screen. I blink, and it's gone.
Frozen in place, I watch him- wondering what he is seeing, partially knowing what that must be, and limitlessly wishing that he had never seen it in the first place. He makes an intensely focused expression, jaw clenched and brow wrinkling, before turning toward me.
"I'm sorry." The words seem so empty compared to my emotions.
"I don't want your sympathy." he breathes, as if brushing off the past few minutes of conversation (or lack thereof). Starting down the steps behind me, he seems to become fully immersed in the present, "I'm just saying I've been there."
Unable to find anything more to say, I nod and continue down the steps. He follows a few paces behind me, switching his baggage from his left to right hand as he comes to stand beside me on the tarmac.
"So…" he begins, gaining my attention once again, "What do think there is to do in Paris on Thanksgiving?"
"How should I know? Do they even celebrate it here?" I ask, realizing that I hadn't even given it much thought- simply having been focused on the fact that they did celebrate it at home and I wasn't there.
"We'll have to ask Colette…" he decides. We lapse into a still silence, but a moment later he breaks it. "In or out?"
"Excuse me?" I question, clearly lost.
"Would you prefer to eat in or out?" he clarifies, speaking with emphasis so that I could clearly understand the question.
I stop and place, looking him over as he, too, stops and turns to face me. "What are you talking about, Ted?"
He turns to me with an expression as if he clearly didn't understand how I could be confused, "We're doing Thanksgiving together tonight."
"Oh, we are huh?" I laugh, raising an eyebrow, "And who decided that?"
"The decision was mutual." he smirks. My breath catches for a moment, but I look away down into the distance, watching the flights coming in and out.
I roll my eyes, "In."
"Hmm?" I can't tell if he's mocking me, or really hadn't heard but I repeat myself anyway.
I look him straight in the eye and say definitely, "We're eating in." This earns a smirk from him as we continue down the pavement.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Laura." His fingertips dance across my gloved hand, and I think I feel Berlin again.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Ted." He holds my gaze for a moment longer than casual but I do not look away. And it isn't quite Jakarta or Berlin or even New York… it's something quite a bit different, and a little more like home.