Jane Rizzoli watched the bustling airport with a wary eye. Business people with briefcases and harrassed looks dodged families with shrieking toddlers. Pilots and stewards wandered in laughing clusters as they dragged their neatly packed suit cases around clumps of caffine deprived travelers checking their phones at the coffee stand. Jane's eyes took everything in with the measured calm of a veteran detective. In the seat beside her, Maura Isles flipped quietly through a magazine that likely had words in its title that would bore Jane to tears. Their flight to Paris had been delayed by several hours.
'Maur,' Jane said when she grew tired of people watching, 'I'm going to go get more coffee, want anything?'
Maura glanced up at Jane when she spoke and smiled, 'a green tea would be wonderful, thank you Jane.'
Jane grunted in reply and pushed herself up from her seat. The Boston Joe's line was moving quickly, the barista's working like a well oiled machine. Jane's black coffee came almost as soon as Jane had finished paying. Jane shoved a few bucks in to the tip jar and shuffled sideways to wait for Maura's green tea. Jane glanced back towards the blonde, making sure she was still safely seated and absorbed in her magazine. She knew, in theory, nothing could have happened. She knew, in theory, Maura was perfectly safe sitting alone in the middle of the airport on a bright Monday morning. Jane also knew, she would never stop looking for Maura. Looking out. Or at least, Jane wouldn't when they were together. After all, Jane wouldn't be able to look out for Maura when she was at Quantico and Maura was in Boston. The thought made Jane uncomfortable. She wrinkled her nose and grabbed Maura's drink from the counter.
Back at their seat Maura was now talking to a man. Caucasian, 6'1, maybe 6'2, dark brown hair. Maura had her polite face on, nodding as the man spoke. She had closed the magazine around one finger, marking her page. Jane saw her eyes dart between the magazine and the man, clearly ready for the conversation to be done. Maura had come a long way in her social abilities but in moments like this Jane saw the socially awkward, clueless really, Maura that Jane had come to love.
'...is a lovely city,' Jane heard the man say as she approached. He spoke with a French accent that sounded slightly out of place, 'and every lovely woman ought to have their own Parisian love story, no? I could certainly be of assisstance in that regard.'
'Yes,' Maura replied, breaking in to a huge smile when she saw Jane, 'a true Parisian love story is certainly in order, isn't it sweetie?'
Jane smiled back, passing Maura her cup, sliding quickly in to her seat. Jane slipped one arm around Maura's shoulders and pressed an affectionate kiss to Maura's cheek. 'I'm pretty partial to our Boston love story, darling.' Jane drawled in response.
The man flushed and averted his eyes, 'my apologies, I did not realise you were otherwise engaged.' The pair watched the man retreat to another single looking woman.
'You okay?' Jane asked.
'Certainly,' Maura said with a smile, 'thank you for going along. He did not seem to understand the word no.'
'But you could have had a great Parisian romance!' Jane said in an exaggerated French accent.
Maura laughed at her friend's antics, 'of course, now we will have to pretend to be a couple the entire flight.'
'Maura!' Jane exclaimed in mock frustration. 'I have to pretend to like you now!'
Maura laughed again. 'It's only an 8 hour flight Jane. You can go back to hating me as soon as we get off the plane.'
'Fine!' Jane huffed, 'but I get to pick the first restaurant we try!'
Maura didn't dignify that with a response, choosing to return to her magazine instead. Maura would have let Jane choose the restaurant anyways. Afterall Jane was coming to Paris for Maura. Besides, French food was always delicious.
Maura had fallen asleep on the flight. She was curled in her seat, her head resting on Jane's shoulder. Their hands were clasped. Across the aisle, faux-french man shot daggered looks at Jane. Jane, having spent the better part of the flight messing with the man, showering Maura in even more affection than the pair usually shared, was now watching a movie. She couldn't tell you what the name was or even the primary plot points. Maura was at peace, contentedly sleeping beside Jane. Jane was Maura's sentinel. She would keep watch. At least, for now. While they were in Paris.
