Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Hours left until the wedding: 43
Miles left until Venice: 356

During the past three hours, Mercedes spent much time with making sure that the dress stayed in an upright position.

From Blaine, she learned that the officers refused to drive to the police station with Kurt because of the bad weather. Instead, they all stayed in the break room.

"The entire staff of the airport should feel ashamed about their behavior", Blaine said. "I got trained to handle people who are afraid of flying."

"And what do you do?", Mercedes wanted to know.

"We talk to those people, calm them down, explain to them what happens- if only I would have been in the front of the machine and not Galina! I would have taken him and taken care of him personally."

His face expression was telling Mercedes that he would have done it more than personally.

Hours passed.

Blaine came to her every now and then, giving her an update. But most of the time, he was telling her that there was no progress and he would like to teach the dumb Swiss police a lesson.

"Don't you need a break?", Mercedes asked him after some time.

He waved it off. "Break? Not before that debacle is over."

Mercedes, who felt a bit woozy because of the automat's coffee, stared at Kurt's phone, shaking it as if it could make Antoine call her back and tell her that he got things right. Oh, and by the way, if he would offer her a job because he was so awesome, that would be great as well…

But he didn't call her back.

When the evening turned into night, she noticed how the airport's staff changed their acting towards her. The hostile glances and the skeptical mumbling turned into friendly questions about her well-being and they even offered her coffee, tea and biscuits.

"They will let him go soon!" Blaine's eyes were literally sparkling. "I just talked to the security – they apparently got phone calls of a VIP or something…"

"Really? Thank god." Mercedes jumped up and spontaneously gave Blaine a hug. "I knew that Antoine would get things right."

"Careful", Blaine laughed. "What if your boyfriend sees you?"

"My boyfriend?", she repeated. "Anthony? He is on the way to L. A. But how do you even know?"

Blaine looked confused. "That guy with the backpack?"

Realization dawned on Mercedes. "Oh, you mean Sam! No, he is not my boyfriend."

"Really?"

"We never have met before. He just helped me with Kurt and stayed to make sure that I can handle everything."

Blaine cocked his eyebrows. "He really did that for you?" He rubbed his chin and threw her an impish glance. "Nice guy."

Mercedes needed to chuckle because of his salacious tone. "Yes, he is nice. But he is not my boyfriend."

"That's a shame", Blaine said and turned around to leave again. "You are perfect for each other."

"He is on his way to Venice", Mercedes commented without answering on his remark.

"This night? Without trains or flights?" Blaine seemed to be surprised, but then, he smiled knowingly. "Wait a second.", he shouted before he left.

As soon as he was gone, Mercedes' smile disappeared. Saying out loud Anthony's name had brought back memories about their breakup in Paris.

"Anthony", she whispered and sighed loudly. Things would definitely be easier with him by her side. How could he dump her and make her get through this catastrophe all alone? That was inexcusable. But then, she realized that it didn't matter whether she forgave him.

Because Anthony had left her. And she was on her own now.

"Whether I can get coffee at this place?"

Mercedes turned around and spotted Kurt. He looked pale and kind of tired, but still more elegant than she could ever be.

She jumped up and pulled him into a hug. "Kurt! Are you okay? What have they done to you?"

He softly pulled away from her and grimaced. "Don't. I am fine. Something like that never happened before, and I am so ashamed. I can't believe we lost so much time because of that nonsense."

Mercedes waved it off, trying her best to sound relaxed and calm to cheer him up a bit. "Don't worry about that. We all have a bad day sometimes."

"Bad day?", Kurt said exasperatedly. "I never ever hurt a woman or tried to do it! I acted crazy, there is no excuse for that! I don't even remember it, but that's no excuse either!"

Desperate, Mercedes searched for reassuring words. "Listen, we all know that it was a blooper", she lied. "We were all worried you would harm yourself, that's all. But you are fine now, right?"

She needed to bend down to look into his eyes that stared down the floor. "Right?"

Kurt looked up. "I apologized to the flight attendant, and she was so kind to accept it."

"That's great…"

"But I will never forgive myself! I need some kind of therapy, some…"

"Coffee?", a sexy voice with Russian touch cut him off.

Kurt turned around. "Blaine!"

The glances both guys exchanged let Mercedes forget her worries for a moment.

"I…erm…gonna go ask whether there are flights…", she said, but nobody seemed to listen to her anyway. "You can give each other an update in the meantime, and please watch over the dress."

"You need to tell me everything", Blaine insisted. "I will leave that appalling airline! We are going to sue them!"

"Bye…" Mercedes wanted to withdraw.

"No! I was an idiot, such a stupid idiot", Kurt answered him back, and Blaine pulled him into a hug.

Mercedes inhaled deeply, theatrically pointed at the exit and shouted: "Oh, look at that! A dancing elephant!"

No one reacted. But at least, she could smile again when she went towards the counter for information on the other end of the terminal.

Which was closed.

A handwritten sheet of paper was hanging on the glass pane, saying in five languages: No information concerning flights until tomorrow, 6 am. Thank you.

Mercedes looked around. The terminal looked pretty deserted. The coffeeshops, souvenir corners and – more importantly – the counter for rental cars were behind barred metal grids in the dark. The annunciator panels were pitch black.

On the way back to Kurt, Blaine and their luggage, Mercedes started wondering which plastic stools were the most comfortable ones for sleeping. It was already midnight. Six hours left until the information counter would open again.

Kurt and Blaine were having an animated conversation, everyone who passed them would think that they know each other for years. Even their body language was similar. They way they cocked their heads, the hand movements, how they touched each other. Kurt was about to tell him about his martyrdom in the provisional prison cell.

"I wasn't even allowed to go to the toilet. And then, just like that", he snapped with his fingers "they acted totally differently. Too friendly for my taste, apologized a hundred times, took care of the documents in a hurry so that I could leave – incroyable!"

"The influence of a powerful man", Blaine muttered. "The police officer told me that this gentleman has been quite charming."

"Oh, Antoine can be charming", Kurt said somewhat icily. "If he wants to."

"That man allegedly has explained the situation and has been, well, normal. Isn't it weird that the most powerful people are the less complicated ones?"

Kurt snorted. "Antoine? Less complicated? I doubt that. The policemen probably have heard what they wanted to hear – or they admire the House of Décoste."

"Who doesn't?", Blaine asked, winking.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and grinned. That flatterer!

"He must think a great deal of you", Blaine thought out loud.

Kurt shook his head. "He is just worried about his reputation. I am just a tiny cog in his gear wheel."

"A tiny cog? I am sure you are more than that."

"Sorry for interrupting." Mercedes decided that she didn't want to wait any longer.

"Oh, sorry!" Like two naughty teenagers that got caught kissing, both of them straightened up and listened to what she had to say.

"We are stuck at this place until tomorrow", she declared.

"I see." Kurt didn't seem to be that disappointed.

"What a shame." Neither did Blaine. "I will bring you to one of the best hotels of this town", he suggested, thrilled. "I know one that is ideal for us. I can lend one of the cars of the airport."

Kurt was hooked and grabbed his fabulous suitcase. "Shall we?", he beamed, nodding to the exit.

"Let's go!" Blaine hurried to the exit door; Kurt followed him enthusiastically.

If you don't mind me disturbing you, Mercedes thought and tiredly brought up the rear.

…

Hours left until the wedding: 35
Miles left until Venice: 356

Mercedes woke up after she had slept miserably. She sat up when she heard the strong wind from outside and rubbed her eyes. She needed an instant to know where she was.

"Shit!"

When the nightmare of the previous day came to her mind, she lied back down again. It was ten before six now. She needed to take care of their flight.

Ten minutes later, she was standing at the reception of the hotel, dressed up and showered, pleading the lady to let her use the computer to look for the next flights. Luckily, the recepetion lady could speak English perfectly and listened to her understandingly.

"I know that place better than you", she said, still smiling. "Let me do that."

"Thank you so much!" Mercedes wanted to hug that lady. She sat down on one of the armchairs next to the fireplace and waited.

Despite the unearthly hour, a lot of people were already up. In the restaurant, breakfast was already served and around Mercedes, people were conversing in different languages.

"I have good news." Beaming, the reception lady showed her the display.

"Great!" Mercedes jumped up.

"You won't believe it, but today, there is one flight with one place left."

"Yes!" That was awesome.

"And you are lucky because I got you that last place."

Mercedes rubbed her temples. "But I need two places."

The lady's face fell. "But you are here alone."

"No, not really. My companion is with, erm, a friend. I am so sorry, but could you check it again?"

While the reception lady did it, Mercedes went up and down nervously. Finally, the lady showed her the display again. There was indeed only one place left.

"Shall I reserve it for you anyway?", she asked.

What other choice did she have? "Yes, please."

"Your name, please?"

"Mercedes…oh." Something came to her mind. "Hang on…"

Considering her history with Coralee, it would be for the best if Kurt brought her the dress. Besides, he needed time for the final adjustments on the dress, and Coralee had made it clear that she didn't want Mercedes to do it.

"I don't know", she said, thinking intensely "Who among us should take the place."

"Okay." The reception lady nodded patiently. "Let me know after you have taken a decision. But you better hurry, that place will certainly be taken soon."

What was she supposed to do now? Mercedes didn't know who should fly to Italy, so she retrieved her phone from her jeans and did what she always had done in the past whenever she needed some piece of advice: She called her mother.

"Mercedes? Everything okay? It's six am…"

Her mother's voice sounded sleepy.

"I am fine, mom. Sorry I woke you up."

"Oh, it's alright. Lately I don't sleep much anyway."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Excited because of the wedding, hm?"

Silence.

"I heard of the flight and the emergency landing. That's horrible, baby. Are you in Venice now?"

"Almost. I am still in Switzerland. There is a flight at noon…" She paused before she continued talking. "But there is a problem. There is only one place left."

"And what's the problem?"

"Don't you think that Kurt should take it? He will make the final fitting of the dress, and Coralee flips out if he isn't there."

"Sorry, Mercedes, but I can't follow. What will you do if you don't get onto that plane?"

"I will think of something. Hitchhike or hike or something like that. I am sure Coralee wouldn't care if I was not at her wedding in time."

"Don't be silly, Mercy!" Her mother sounded angry. Angrier than back then when Mercedes came home at three am as a sixteen-year-old. "Since when is Coralee's wedding only about the dress?"

"Erm…from the first day on?", Mercedes couldn't suppress that comment. "I for one would know my priorities if I married in a customized dress by Antoine Décoste."

"Nonsense. About family, Mercedes. That's, what counts." To Mercedes' horror, Phyllis had started crying. "Seriously: You need to be there on time! You are her only sister. Screw that dumb dress!"

"Mom!" Mercedes was outraged. Screw that dumb dress? Had her mother completely lost her mind? "I…are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. I feel great. But you and Coralee…you are all I have…"

"I am sorry, mom, I didn't want to upset you."

"I need to hang up, blow my nose. Call me later again, okay? Bye, sweetie."

"Mom?"

But she had already hung up. Mercedes slumped down on one of the sofas of the lounge and buried her face in her hands. She should have known how her mother would react after she had mentioned the dress. Her mother just didn't get how important it was that the dress fitted perfectly. She probably never would.

The reception lady looked over to her, probably having heard the conversation, and shouted: "So I will call the airport again, right?"

"Thanks", Mercedes muttered. "That would be great."

She wondered whether it was too early to go see Kurt. But at this moment, she heard a familiar voice on the stairs. Someone was having a phonecall in English. She felt her neck prickling when she turned around and spotted the heinous knit sweater. How could it be…?

"Sam?"

He turned around and looked at her, equally surprised.

"Mercedes?"

"You are supposed to be in Venice now!"

"As if I didn't know."

"What happened?" She got up and went towards him, kind of shyly, not trying to think about how tired she probably must look.

"I couldn't get away from here last night", he answered. "No flights, not trains, no cars. What a nightmare."

"And how did you end up here?"

"Do you remember Blaine, the flight attendant? He recommended that hotel and even drove me to that place."

"I understand." So Blaine tried playing matchmaker? But she kept that assumption to herself. Sighing, she ruffled her hair. "I must look horrible."

"No, not at all.", Sam said quietly and looked away, trying to hide his blush.

Nobody dared to say anything for a while.

Mercedes broke the silence eventually. "Do you have a place at the airplane that will take off at twelve am? Can you imagine that there is only one free place?"

"You can't be serious. Only one?", he cut her off. "I need to get it."

Before Mercedes could say anything, he had retrieved his phone again and hurried to the exit. "After this circus, the airport is on speed dial on my phone."

"Wait!", Mercedes shouted. "I try getting Kurt because we didn't book a flight either…"

But Sam was already too far away to hear her. Mercedes could only stare at him from afar. He couldn't be serious!

"Good morning, Miss Mercedes Jones."

Kurt was standing behind her, straightening out nonexistent wrinkles of his expensive looking blazer. With his impeccable look, it was hard to believe that it was the same guy of the day before.

"Good morning, Kurt. How are you?"

"So much better than I deserve. I had a great night."

"That's nice." Mercedes forced herself to smile.

He grimaced. "I won't act up today."

Of course, Mercedes wondered whether he had spent the night with a certain flight attendant, but Kurt didn't mention anything, and Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

"When do we have to be at the airport?"

"That's the problem.", Mercedes answered. "There is only one flight, and all places are already taken…"

Kurt's face lit up. "All places are taken? That's great news. Do you see the weather? No one who is sane enough would get onto a plane – that would be suicide."

Even though Kurt wasn't that wrong – strong wind and a blizzard made it unable to see one's own hand – Mercedes got the feeling that Kurt kind of lost sight of their initial mission.

"We need to be in Venice tomorrow at the latest, Kurt."

"Of course", he agreed shortly.

The reception lady had heard their conversation and glanced at her display. "The last place is taken!"

Mercedes looked over to Sam who was still talking over his phone.

"Excuse me." Kurt strutted over to the woman, took her hand as if it was the most precious thing he had ever held in his hands and kissed it softly. "Madame, may I congratulate you to your beautiful hotel? I spent a perfect night at this place."

The reception lady looked like she would faint any moment. Kurt had turned into the neat charmer Mercedes had met back then at Antoine's boutique. His entire demeanor had changed, he seemed to be taller and radiated an aura of authority. Something must have done him good last night, or rather, someone.

"It's my pleasure, Monsieur", the receptionist flirted. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Kurt waved off. "Madame, I wouldn't know what you could add to that perfection of hospitality I enjoyed so far."

He turned to Mercedes. "My employee and I would try to get a connection to Venice to her sister's wedding. But please, please don't concern yourself with that mere nothing."

The lady took the bait. "Maybe I could help you…"

Kurt feigned indignation. "Madame! You are so busy, it's unimaginable to inconvenience you like that."

"But I insist!", she piped. "You need to go to Venice, right?"

Kurt nodded hesitantly, still pretending that their small problem was not worth wasting her oh-so precious time.

"Then you have to get to Domodossola to get a train. And I will send someone who will get you to that city."

Mercedes leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and watching Kurt with admiration.

"Domo…" With a blank face, Kurt frowned.

"Domodossola – that's a city on the other end of the Simplon Pass."

"Is it far away?"

The reception lady paused. "No." She looked out of the window. "But the weather is not that optimal, so you need to leave as soon as possible. I insist that our driver will bring you there with our hotel's minibus."

"Oh, Madame!" Kurt retrieved a handkerchief and patted dry his eye. "You are too friendly."

She beamed like a schoolgirl who had been praised because of her good grades. "No, no, it's my pleasure. Our driver is on his way to pick up our chambermaids, but he will be back soon. Why don't you- and your employee- eat breakfast in the meantime?"

"Madame, I will never forget what you have done for us." Kurt took her hand for the second time and kissed it.

"You are welcome." The reception lady smiled at him.

Mercedes was also smiling. Kurt, you sly dog!

"Unfortunately, there is another thing I need to do", Kurt confessed and leaned over the counter.

"Yes?" The lady expectantly bit her lower lip.

"Flowers", Kurt said. "I need to get flowers."

"But no, Monsieur, you don't need to, that belongs to the service."

"Oh, but there is a special lady", Kurt explained. "A lady I… met yesterday and I want to send her flowers. Her name is Galina and she is working for an airline."

Five minutes later, Mercedes was enjoying her breakfast when Kurt joined her. He shook his head. "The nice lady has been less nice when we talked about the flowers, but in the end, she did it."

Mercedes bit back the comment that it might have something to do with him mentioning another woman.

"Good. Eat some breakfast, it's going to be a long day. I will go outside and check whether the minibus already arrived."

There was no bus far and wide, but on one of the sofas in the lobby, Sam was sitting, sending texts with a frown. When Mercedes went towards him, he looked up.

"Shouldn't you be on the way to the airport?", Mercedes asked him. "The airplane will take off soon."

He breathed out, sighing. "I could ask you the same. I didn't get the ticket."

"What?"

"Someone else was thirteen seconds faster than me. Looks like I need to find another way to get to Venice." He smiled and got up. "So I will say it again: It was nice having met you. I hope your next flight won't be as disastrous as the one yesterday."

He held out his hand.

Suddenly, realization dawned on Mercedes. "You thought we already had tickets?"

Sam looked confused.

"That's why you stormed off to get the last one!"

"Wait, do you want to say that the both of you don't have a ticket either?"

Mercedes shook her head.

"Oh no!" He facepalmed. "You must have thought that I am a big jerk!"

"Ermm…no comment." Mercedes grinned. "But Kurt sweet-talked the reception lady. We will be chauffeured with the hotel's minibus to Domodossola or something. There are trains driving from that city."

He leaned forward curiously. "Did you just say minibus?"

She nodded smugly.

"And how many places do you think do you need for the wedding dress and that huge designer suitcase?"

"I think if we scoot closer to each other you could go on board as well. Or we will strap you on the roof as long as you promise not to sing hiking songs."

Mercedes unexpectantly felt happy when she thought about that they would spend more time together, even though the spirit of the oh-so great Jasmine was menacingly hovering over him.