A/N: In the middle of writing my other fics this idea suddenly came to me and I don't even know why, and then this happened. It will be told in 10 parts (takeoff, the 8 hours on the plane, and the arrival), each hour alternating between Don and Liz's POV, and there will be a lot of fluff. Not really AU, but a completely different retelling of how Liz and Ressler first met. I will definitely continue my other fics, but I plan on focusing on this one for a while :)

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the writing. Everything else belongs to NBC.

Takeoff

"Excuse me, sorry, thank you." Don Ressler sighed as he attempted to weave his way through the large group of family travellers past the security checkpoint. He was a stickler for being early to everything from work to doctor's appointments and didn't want one bad experience to ruin his perfect record. He was an FBI agent, after all.

(An off-duty FBI agent this week, of course.)

After all, the past week had went by rather hellish-ly and Don didn't want things to get any worse.

He had just completed eight days in London, England visiting his older brother Stephen (or Steve, as Steve himself preferred to be called) and his wife Jennifer, along with his parents, who were also visiting.

And let's just say that Don wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed family reunions/visits halfway across the world.

First off, his family wasn't the easiest bunch to deal with. Don't get him wrong, he loved his brother and his parents very much, he'd just rather not spend more than seven days in a row with them (this is why that did these family visits once a year). Steve and Don were once quite close, but when Steve got married and had a baby boy (who is now nine years old and is still treated like a baby) and Don got a job as an FBI special agent they didn't keep in touch as often as both of them became preoccupied with their own personal lives. But it had been two years since they had last met face-to-face and Don figured he might as well accept the invitation to visit, otherwise his parents (more specifically his mother) would not be pleased.

His mother. Dear god.

He loved his parents very much though; he and his father had reached an understanding of one another even though during Don's childhood his father was mostly absent (he was a cop), but his mother. . . that was another story altogether.

Don's mother was determined that her son find a girlfriend, especially this year in particular. She clearly didn't care what kind of girl Don would bring home, she just wanted him to have a girl to bring home. She wouldn't let it go; she would talk about it to Don just about day they were there, continually pointing out that his brother had already gotten married at age twenty-five (Don was thirty-three now).

But so far, each yearly visit to London he had arrived single. No (steady) girlfriend to bring home to his mother so it can just shut her up. He had flings every now and then but none of them lasted to Christmastime or the family reunion. Don couldn't help it though; his life as an FBI agent was just too busy to allow any time for committing to a serious relationship.

So, he was single. He had been single for several years.

It did bother him a bit (not as much as it bothered his mother, it seemed), being girlfriendless, but his work took his mind off of it all, and that was that.

But the main reason that Don hated the visit was because of the plane ride.

Eight hours stuck in a metal tube 20,000 feet in the air sitting next to obnoxious passengers, crying babies, eating unappetizing food and sitting in the same spot for a long time feeling uncomfortable, it all bothered Don (sometimes he found himself worrying irrationally about plane crashes and disasters up in the air. He shouldn't worry, he knew that, but he just couldn't help himself. Air travel was scary). He did his best to avoid flying, but sometimes his job required him taking some form of air travel. Don didn't mind those flights as much, but when he was off-duty and flying economy (because that was all he could really afford) every Christmas, he despised it. He wished he could just close his eyes and sleep through all the eight hours, but sleeping on a plane never seemed to work out for him.

So here he was, walking down the endless terminals of London Heathrow Airport until he could finally locate his gate, still not in the greatest mood after thinking about the next eight hours ahead of him.

Glancing down at his ticket and reading where his gate was, Don then realized that he was walking in the wrong direction. Swearing under his breath he turned back and traced his steps back, until he finally found his gate.

Don wheeled his surprisingly small and compact luggage bag next to him and sat down on one of the rows of seats close to the boarding gate and checked his watch.

Eight-thirty four am. His flight was at nine fifteen.

He was early.

Heaving a heavy sigh of relief, Don leaned back and closed his eyes, finally getting the chance to relax. The flight was on time, at the moment the waiting area wasn't overly crowded, and most of all, he was alone. It was surprisingly peaceful, after being on the move ever since four-thirty am.

After staring absentmindedly at the TVs above his head for a while, Don took out his phone (the FBI-issued one) and checked for any messages, then took out his personal one and tried to find something to do on it, but nothing piqued his attention at that moment.

So then Don waited. And waited. The gate started to fill up as each minute passed with more people and at one point Don had to move a seat over so that same family he had bumped into earlier could sit (Great, Don thought, they're on this flight?).

He had to admit, he was getting bored. Maybe he was missing his family's company?

Don scoffed to himself at the notion. Yeah right. How could I miss my mother's constant 'you have no girlfriend' talk?

And fortunately soon enough, it was time to board. Don was eager to find his seat but as always, the business class passengers were boarded first.

Finally, when the economy class passengers were called up to board, Don almost jumped up, grabbed his luggage, and made his way to the front of the line before anyone else could.

The flight attendant greeted him with a curt nod and checked his boarding pass, then glanced back up at him again with a miffed look on her face. "Sir, your seat is in the front of the plane. We're calling the passengers in the back of the plane."

Another reason why Don hated flying economy. Waiting for your time to board if you sat in the front of the plane.

"Oh, uh, sorry." Don grumbled, hastily making his way to the back of the line not wanting to argue. How could he be so down on his luck today?

When they got to him, nearly all of the passengers had boarded, and he was getting quite annoyed to be honest.

"Thank you sir, have a pleasant flight." The same flight attendant from earlier gave Don a wary look as she scanned his boarding pass and let him pass through the doors.

Don rushed through the jetbridge (or walkway, whatever they called it) until he reached the doors to the plane and showed his boarding pass to the two flight attendants standing by, and put a hand through his blond hair.

"This way, sir." one of the flight attendants smiled and motioned to the right of the cabin. Don gave her an uptight smile that looked more like a grimace in return and walked slowly down the cramped aisle way of the plane, rolling his luggage bag behind him and hoping that he didn't roll over anyone's foot.

His seat was only five rows from the front, which was certainly a cut above from his seat on the way to London a week ago, when he was sitting by the washrooms next to a snoring businessman.

But this time, fortunately there was nobody there and he had dibs on the window seat. Don eagerly put his luggage in the overhead compartment and took his seat by the window.

Maybe nobody booked the seat next to him and he'd get to stretch out a bit? That would be great.

He couldn't help but feel a little happy that at least one thing was going well that morning.

But then.

Oh.

There was a brunette woman standing in the aisle facing him, holding a heavy-looking suitcase in her arms.

"Oh, my god, sorry." Don quickly snapped back to reality and focused all of his attention on the girl in front of him, standing up and swiftly hitting his head on the ceiling.. "Do you need help with that?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be nice, thanks." the girl said quickly, flashing him a sweet smile.

Yeah, she's cute. Don was thinking, trying not to get distracted as he took note of her good looks. And she seems nice enough. Please tell me she's the one who will be sitting in the seat next to me, not some creepy old guy.

He took her suitcase and loaded it up in the overhead compartment, not caring that he was holding up a few other annoyed passengers, then moved back into his seat so she could sit down.

"Thank you so much, seriously, thank you." she smiled again, moving in and sitting down next to Don (Yes. Don thought. Thank you.).

"No problem." he smiled in return, trying to get comfortable without looking stupid in front of her (if not looking stupid doing everyday things was possible for Don).

"I was supposed to sit in the middle, across from here. But some guy was already sitting there, and I really didn't feel like picking a fight today." she explained, motioning to the occupied seats across from them. "And plus you seemed like a better traveling partner than him."

Don laughed a bit, glancing at the snoring man sitting across from them and thanked his lucky stars he was sitting next to this woman instead that man.

"Um, oh yeah, I should probably introduce myself." Don quickly added as she was getting set up. "After all, you're going to be stuck with me for the next eight hours so, uh, I'm Don. Nice to meet you."

He extended his hand, which she shook, and he could have sworn she was blushing. (Don's never made a girl blush before). "Liz. Nice to meet you too, Don."

They kept their gazes on each other for a moment longer, then awkwardly looked away, Don out the window and Liz into the aisle.

A few more silent minutes passed as everybody was seated until the cabin crew made their safety announcement and demonstration ("I try not to worry about this," Liz informed Don. "I take note of the information but air travel disasters are uncommon and these are just precautions." Don had nodded in response and tried to agree with Liz's words although he was at times quite paranoid about air travel.).

Soon the cabin crew took their seats then the plane started to move, making its way gradually down the runway, and Don could feel his nerves rise by each passing second.

Lift-off was always the hardest part. Don hated it the most; he didn't like the feeling of when the plane slanted upwards as it got higher and higher (he never once considered becoming a pilot) because it really made him sick to his stomach. At the moment he hoped more than ever that he wouldn't throw up on this plane ride, especially not in front of this sweet (and pretty) young woman sitting beside him. Most of the people who have sat beside him were never this nice and friendly (and normal), and he didn't want to blow it with her.

Don looked out the window and noticed that they were next to lift off. His palms became clammy and he started to breathe shallow and fast.

Take a deep breath. Breathe in and out. In and out. This has happened before, you can do it, you can calm down. Don thought, really hoping that Liz wasn't watching his internal freak-out..

But to his embarrassment, Liz had already noticed and was staring at him with a concerned look. "You okay, Don?"

"Oh, yeah." he lied, plastering a fake smile on his face and releasing his death grip on the armrests. "Just, you know, jitters."

"Oh." Liz nodded sympathetically, sitting straighter in her chair. "This guy I knew, he had a really bad fear of heights and claustrophobia, you can only imagine how he reacted whenever we went on a plane. He was a elementary school teacher and never traveled anywhere, he wasn't used to flying."

"That must have been horrible." Don answered as lightheartedly as he could, knowing that Liz was only trying to make him feel better although right now he was anything but calm at the moment.

"That's also why our relationship ended when it did." he heard Liz mutter under her breath.

Oh. Don thought. She has an ex-boyfriend.

Just then, the plane started to accelerate and Don was pushed roughly back into his seat, making his stomach lurch.

Deep breaths. In and out.

"Don," Liz said calmly, leaning towards him. "it's going to be fine."

He focused on Liz's voice through the noisy sounds of the engines and then, just like that, the plane lifted off the ground.

Liz patted Don's hand comfortingly for a moment. "It's alright."

Don exhaled slowly and smiled at Liz in thanks, the fear subsiding as they ascended higher and higher up into the air.

Thank goodness she's here. he thought to himself, starting to calm down and that sick feeling in his stomach subsiding. Otherwise I'd be full-out panicking and making a scene.

Soon enough the plane reached cruising altitude and the flight attendants come around with headphones and blankets.

"See?" Liz smiled, looking genuinely happy. "You did it! You're fine!"

"Thank you. For helping me." Don said gratefully, although he was still reeling from the past six minutes, and the fact that a stranger had just helped him get through the part he feared most in a plane ride.

He's never met a stranger that nice.

"You're welcome." Liz grinned, handing Don a set of headphones from the flight attendant in the aisle before getting a set for herself. "Although I didn't really do anything. It was all you."

"Yeah, well you helped me through it. Nobody's ever done that."

"Oh, you travel alone most of the time?"

"Yeah. But sometimes I fly with my colleagues when on my job. They aren't as friendly traveling partners as you are, but flying with them certainly beats flying alone. It's just more nerve-wracking."

"Well I'm glad that I could help. It's nice to have someone to talk to, I hate traveling alone as well." Liz responded brightly. "And just out of curiosity, what do you do? Like, what job do you have that requires all that flying?"

Don hesitated. As an FBI agent, he was told not to volunteer that kind of information, but, oh well, she didn't look like she could do anything bad with that information, she's so sweet. . .

"FBI." He blurted out without another thought. "I work for the FBI."

At first Liz's eyes widened, in shock, or fear, and yeah, Don knew he scared her off-

"Me too."

"Huh?"

"I work for the FBI as well." Liz shook her head in disbelief. "I'm based in D.C. You?"

"Same!" Don couldn't believe it either. What were the odds? "I'm a special agent."

"I'm a profiler. Graduated Quantico six months ago. How is it that we never met?" She laughed a bit, leaning towards Don.

Yeah, how come we haven't met before?

"D.C.'s a big place." Don said jokingly, and Liz laughed again.

"True, true. I'm not on the job, though. Visiting my friend for the holidays, she lives in London."

"Oh." Don was reluctant to share the reason why he was in London, but did anyway. "Yeah, I was visiting family."

"That's really cool." Liz grinned, reclining her seat a bit. "Well, it's reassuring to know that I'm sitting next to an FBI special agent, and also a super nice guy. I'll be safe."

Don blushed. "Thank you. It's also reassuring for me that I'm sitting next to a super nice and attractive FBI profiler for eight hours. I'll be okay too." His face turned even more redder once he finished his sentence, regretting what he just said. Damn, you've just met this girl and she's doing this to you. Stop flirting!

Liz shook her head, although she was smiling. "Oh my gosh, Don, you're honestly too kind for your own good."

As she turned around to fix her pillow, Don couldn't stop smiling.

Maybe the next eight hours won't be as bad as he thought.