A/N: Sorry for the long wait mates! It took a dream about Jackson Rippner chasing me through an airport to remind me that I needed to update this. :|
Chapter 4 – The Flight: Part 1
Things began to quiet down in the cabin as the plane levelled out. The 'fasten seatbelts' signs were still lit, but the turbulence had completely subsided – much to Sybil's relief. The main cabin lights had been turned off, though in few aisles passengers had turned on the tiny reading lights over their heads. About half of the people in Sybil's sight had their eyes closed, some with their seats reclined, either about to fall asleep or already knocked out; the other half had pulled out books or electronic devices to keep them entertained for the long flight.
Originally Sybil had made up her mind to sleep on the plane – she needed a long rest badly, and thousands of feet in the air no one would be able to bother her with phone calls or late-night emergencies at the ward. But the panic with the turbulence had torn her from her sluggish state, and Sybil was resigned, with slight disappointment, that she'd probably be conscious for the duration of the flight.
The disappointment was only slight, because at least she had someone to talk to, someone with whom she was well comfortable sitting next to. Tom Branson was still awake, his tiny reading light illuminating his face. He didn't feel so much like a stranger now, though they were not familiar enough to be called friends. Yet Sybil couldn't shake the feeling that there was … something between them. But what exactly?
Well, that semi-hand holding that had occurred during take-off had to mean something.
Tom reached under the seat in front of him and pulled out a hardcover book from his backpack. Sybil glanced at the book jacket, and her heart skipped a beat. It was some weird self-help book concerning love lives, relationships, that sort of thing. She had read it before, though not recently – it was currently sitting on her bookshelf at home.
"I've read that before," she said, tapping the cover.
"Really?" Tom flipped the book around, looking uncertainly at the back and front covers. "I picked it up recently. I'm only on chapter two. One of my friends said I should read it. Though in hindsight, he was probably having me on."
Sybil nodded. "I thought I'd just read it for a laugh, see if there was any substance to it. And if there is, it .. hasn't worked for me."
"Maybe not yet," Tom replied.
Sybil paused, wondering if Tom was deliberately implying anything. "Well, I don't have a boyfriend or anything, so it's not like I have a lot of use for a self-help book on love."
"Me neither, to be honest," Tom confessed. "I'm just keeping at it for curiosity's sake."
"Maybe it'll work better for you than for me," Sybil said.
Tom nodded shortly, an almost imperceptible smile crossing his face, then opened to a dog-eared page. Sybil turned her face away, but her eyes were still focused on Tom, watching his own eyes move left to right as he read the text on the page.
He really does have nice eyes, she thought, suppressing the grin that was forming against her will.
She shifted in her seat so that her back wasn't so rigid – a stiff spine would not be agreeable on a flight this long – and pulled the floppy air-travel magazine from the pouch underneath the tray table. She flipped through it, briefly scanning the headlines, pausing every now and then to read an article that caught her interest. Suggested itineraries for visiting Philadelphia, something about Duke Hospital in North Carolina (which Sybil had considered before settling for Emory), movie reviews and restaurant ratings. She tried to keep focused on the magazine for as long as possible, to make as much time pass as possible, but when she reached the last leaf only twenty minutes had passed.
Oh boy, Sybil thought, I'll be a mindless zombie by the time I get off this plane.
The flight from London to Atlanta six months ago had been excruciatingly long, but the longing to get back home seemed to make this one drag on as slow as a boring day at work. Waiting through the delay had been bad enough. Since she wasn't feeling tired yet, Sybil didn't feel that closing her eyes would do much good in passing the time.
She looked over at Tom, who was still preoccupied with his book. Amazing how he could still be engrossed in that self-help book; Sybil herself could only read it in fifteen minute segments. The rather zealous language that emulated a school headmaster telling students to get their act together had rather annoyed her.
And seeing Tom's expression – eyes monotonously scanning the page, lips somewhat pursed – he appeared to have the same reaction.
Above the tops of the seats Sybil could see the senior flight attendant pushing the beverage cart down the aisle. She suddenly had a weird notion again: if both she and Tom had something, then that would be the second time tonight that they would have a drink together, though odds were the both of them were going to steer clear of any more alcohol. If Tom had blamed his little slip-of-the-tongue earlier on the Guinness, then most likely he wouldn't go and imbibe any further.
When the flight attendant reached their row, Tom shut the book and shoved it in the seat pouch before putting down his tray table. The attendant turned to the inner seats first, however. Tom let out a soft grumble.
"How's the reading going?" Sybil asked casually.
Tom rolled his eyes and let out a humourless laugh. "I don't think I'll be able to handle it much longer."
Sybil giggled. "That bad?"
"If it didn't sound so condescending, like it despises me for not already being in a relationship—"
"Sir? Would you like something to drink?" the attendant asked Tom.
"Right, uh … just a water, please," Tom replied.
The attendant pulled a water bottle out of one drawer and uncapped it, pouring the contents into a short plastic cup before handing the cup to Tom. "What would you like to drink ma'am?" she asked Sybil.
"Um, a water please." Sybil took the cup handed to her, cautiously reaching over Tom's open tray table. She quickly took a sip, always afraid that the plane would jostle suddenly and spill her drink over her shirt.
"So anyway," Tom continued, as if their conversation had never been interrupted, "it's like the book disapproves of me not knowing how to find a girlfriend."
"Yeah, it does sound like that," Sybil agreed. "Sort of like, 'how could you not know any better?'"
"Exactly," Tom nodded. "You know, you could've warned me about that."
"I didn't want to scare you off," Sybil said sheepishly.
"I'm just kidding," Tom said quickly. "It's simply something I can't take seriously. The tone in which it's written is almost laughable. Wait—"
He reached under the tray table and pulled the self-help book open. Flipping it open to a random page, he said, "Listen to this. It's how I hear it in my head."
Clearing his throat, he started reading from the first paragraph. His voice became steady and over-the-top, like an officious talk-show host, the ones that constantly appeared on the waiting room televisions at the hospital.
"If you keep looking at yourself in the mirror like a loser, then you will become a loser, and that just so happens to be the biggest turn-off ever. This is a challenge to get real about who you are and what you want, to get excited about your love life like it's already a real thing. Stop believing the what-ifs and the baseless suspicions that will keep you from chasing your goals. Stop dwelling on your past failures, and stop saying no to the opportunities that cross your path. Learn to deal with the fact that – you okay there, Sybil?" he asked, reverting to his normal voice.
Sybil was sniggering, unable to control herself at hearing Tom's cringe-worthy performance. "Sorry that was – that was hilarious." She coughed to mask her giggles, noticing at least one other passenger looking her way. She grabbed her cup of water and took a quick swig of it, her laughter almost bubbling back up and making her dribble.
"Was it really that funny?" Tom questioned.
Sybil nodded her head, another snicker escaping. "Yes, it was."
"Now you see why I can't take it seriously," Tom stated, setting the book down on the tray table. "Sooner or later, I'm going to start hearing that shit in my dreams if I don't stop."
"That would be quite unfortunate." Sybil couldn't seem to wipe her smirk off of her face; Tom's exaggerated narration had given her a much-needed laugh, to break the monotony she was suffering already.
She heard another bing and looked up to see the seatbelt sign go black. A couple of passengers stood up, stretched their legs, headed for the lavatories. One auburn-haired woman in the row ahead of Sybil and Tom opened up an overhead luggage bin, though she was having a bit of trouble reaching for what she wanted. She appeared to be slightly shorter than Sybil. Her eyes rested on Tom behind her, and her face not-so-innocently pleaded for help.
"Time to play porter," Sybil muttered to Tom.
"Right," Tom mouthed.
With a polite smile, Tom unbuckled himself and lifted up his tray table. "Could you hold these?" he asked Sybil, his book and his water cup in his hands. Sybil took both items and set them on her own tray table as Tom stepped next to the woman struggling with the suitcase. She was a head shorter than Tom, Sybil noticed.
"Here, allow me," Tom said. "This one?"
The woman stepped back to give Tom space, smiling coyly. "Yes, that's the one. Thank you so much."
Both Sybil and Tom raised their eyebrows – an English woman, with an accent much like Sybil's.
Tom pulled the woman's carry-on down from the overhead bin so the woman could unzip it. "I'm going to need you to help me put it back up when I'm done," the woman said.
"Of course," Tom replied.
The woman fished out what she needed – a small plastic toiletries bag. "There, you can put it up now," she said, sounding a bit too kittenish for the situation. Tom hoisted the carry-on back into the bin, grimacing mostly for Sybil's viewing pleasure. Sybil made a face, ducking her head so the woman wouldn't see. She sure seems eager.
"Oh, thank you so much," the woman said as Tom retook his seat. "Who would have thought there were any real gentlemen on this flight?"
"It was no problem," Tom said, refastening his seatbelt.
Instead of resuming her seat, the woman kept standing, noticeably closer to Tom's row than her own. She pointed to the book resting on Sybil's tray table.
"I like that author," she said. "I've read most of his books."
"Oh, well actually," Sybil began, shoving the book back into Tom's hands, "it's his book. I was just holding onto it."
"Ah, I see." The woman's face brightened. "You enjoying it?"
"Sure," Tom said hesitantly. "Very informative."
"I've never read that one specifically, but I do hear it's wonderfully effective. Never heard of a relationship that failed from that book."
Sybil's eyes narrowed.
"Well," Tom said, "why don't you take it and read it?" He offered the book to her.
"Oh no, I couldn't," the woman said, still keeping that inappropriately coquettish tone.
"Really, please take it. I'm done anyway, I was only rereading it," Tom insisted.
The woman snatched up the book from Tom's hand, giving him a wide smile. "That's so sweet of you. Really, you are a gentleman. I know I'll enjoy this immensely."
With that, she finally returned to her seat.
Tom turned back to Sybil, nonchalantly chugging the last of her water. "Thank God," Tom breathed.
Sybil snorted. "That was entertaining."
Tom looked a combination of disturbed and amused. "She wasn't even trying to be subtle. I saw the looks she was giving me."
"So did I, and now I want to wash my eyes out," Sybil remarked. "I hope you got far enough in that book to learn how to deal with flirting."
"I didn't, unfortunately."
"Oh well," Sybil shrugged.
"But hopefully that book will keep Miss Bunting occupied for a few hours."
Sybil frowned. "Is that her name? Do you know her?"
"No, it was on her luggage tag. Sarah Bunting."
"Aha. A name you're sure to remember."
Tom looked queerly at Sybil, and then the two of them burst out laughing.
"We shouldn't be so loud," Sybil said between gasps. "Half of these people are asleep."
"Yeah, you're right," Tom said.
But even when they were both silent once more, their smiles didn't fade for a long time after.