Fly Me To The Moon

Charlette’s POV “It was nearly a year ago, I was invited to join in at the dig at Carsulae. After years of waiting, when that dream finally became a real opportunity, letting a chance like that slip through my fingers was the last thing I was going to let happen. Even if that means letting things slip in other places in my life.” Charlette’s wasn’t so much an overflowing bucket as she was a basket of unbridled emotions, as she prepared herself for her holiday trip home. Over the course of the last six months, Charlette Hannigan had been working non-stop on the research needed for her graduate thesis. Though it had occupied her with an endless array of tasks and late-night team building, she was eager to achieve this milestone. Though she could already feel the weight of that decision weighing heavily on her heart. In the time she’d been apart from her long-term boyfriend, the loss of intimacy with Mike was really starting to get to her. With the distance between them growing, she was feeling all kinds of nervous and eager about going back for the Holidays. So, as she faced some sentimentality over leaving Italy, and took one last step from an Italian boarding tunnel and into the cabin of that Boeing 747, she was met with a mixture of sadness and excitement, and with it, the twirl of familiar knots deep in her stomach. “God, I hate flying!” The regret of not being able to spend time together mixed with the anticipation of knowing she was just a few years out from finishing her doctorate brought this feeling on regularly, while a lifelong fear of flying only made it worse. But as he began looking up, she considered if for once this feeling might be somewhat short-lived, for she suddenly found herself looking out at the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. It was a mere exhale of “Welcome aboard” and a mock salute thrown out there with a bit of nonchalance, but in that one exhale, she found herself floating in unfamiliar territory. Rather than feeling knots of nausea, those knots in her stomach were now giving rise to a strange feeling of anticipation. Looking down at his badge, she read that name, Kestrel. He’d been leaning back against the threshold of the cockpit this whole time, almost as if he lived there, one wingtip resting casually against that metal, welcoming passengers onto the plane with that ridiculous wave. All while supporting a rather large mug of coffee in his left hand. Was this really the man set to fly them home? Charlette wasn’t quite sure she’d ever seen someone so casual and confident being put in charge of such a large plane, not to mention someone as young as this. But then again, she thought, “I guess military pilots start young, so perhaps I shouldn’t judge his ability to fly this thing, until I see it for myself.” As the line moved in front of her, and it was almost her turn to say hello, she couldn’t stop staring at his frame perched there so effortlessly, and every time her eyes grazed his chest, she came back to that mug in his left hand; and she found herself fighting the strangest impulse to fist-bump that hand. She was still mid-argument when she realized he was speaking to her. “See something you like?” He chuckled, pulling her out of her reverie. Hearing him laughing, Charlette finally snapped to, and offered up a warm smile of her own. “Maybe. Whatch’a got in that cup, sir?” He laughed again, this time leaning forward as he offered her a reply, “Possibly the worst coffee ever made, but if it does the job, then down it goes.” Taking one more swig of it out of the mug after he finished his sentence, Charlette could see him shake a bit in the aftermath. Then he reached out a hand and introduced himself. “Welcome aboard. A word of advice, stick to the cocktails, this stuff’s the worst.” This time it was Charlette’s turn to laugh, “Thanks, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Seeing that the line behind her was becoming restless, she shook his hand gently and smiled, “I guess I should head to my seat then. Hope it does the job.” Charlette could sense he was flirting with her, but she didn’t really mind. It was nice to have some attention after so much time to herself. Plus, it wasn’t like this would ever go anywhere, so what would be the harm in accepting the attention if it led to a more enjoyable flight? Pulling back to a mock salute, he waved her off, jokingly. “We can only hope.” “God, if this flight’s half as smooth as he is, I might even get a decent rest.” And with that, she made her way back to the middle of the plane where her numbered seat sat waiting for her like an old acquaintance you would rather avoid. After finally managing to stuff both of her carry-on bags into the already crammed overhead bin, she took her seat. Begrudgingly relenting to what would be another 16 hours captive in among the clouds before she could truly breathe a sigh of relief. Though as she looked around the main cabin, she was humored by the small touches of garland and ribbon that were being used to decorate the overhead bins and add some festive cheer to this holiday flight home. The flight was as smooth as it could be while heading over the Atlantic, with only mild moments of turbulence as they passed through a few growing winter storms. Every once in a while, the sound of the captain coming through, to offer a quick joke, and at times his condolences for the mild discomfort, followed by a quick reminder that an airplane cocktail is a great chaser for anyone without steely nerves. After what might just have been forever in the air, the wheels of the plane made a smooth connection to the newly tarred surface of the tarmac, much to Charlette’s relief. Maybe now her stomach would stop engaging in its pre-flight flip flops. Though it was hard to tell what she was feeling from within this mixture of nausea and nerves. What she did know was she was glad it was over, not being the hugest fan of life as a passenger. Since she was little, flying had meant putting herself at the whim of the elements and someone else’s control; and although that had stuck with her into her twenties, those feelings of fear and frustration were also beginning to meet with wonder. All the long flights out of the country were beginning to shape her experience and learning to cope with not being in total control was helping her to open up to new places and bigger opportunities. However, hours in the air did something else to her as well. Being stuck in that reality gave rise to restlessness. Though she knew that with landing, she’d finally be putting her tired feet back on solid ground; she was so wound up right now that it was becoming harder and harder to wait for the line ahead of her. “Could people move any slower?” she thought to herself, annoyed at the fact that by standing up she’d be crunched into a small space until her seat mate moved on, and that if she stayed sitting, she’d still be stuck on this plane. There were other places she longed to be right now, and she’d be damned if these people were going to hold her back from them. For starters, she could be in Mike's arms, and after some tender moments entwined in each other, she could climb into that claw-footed tub she’d picked up at a local estate sale, during the summertime when she’d last made it home to see him. If she was certain about anything, it was that tonight, she needed to feel him against her; and she needed to have some real human touch. When Mike had closed on their house in early summer, Charlette had been overjoyed. This was the first big step they’d taken together in the ten years they’d spent as a couple, and among the feelings of restlessness she dealt with in all areas of her life, Charlette was restless to know where they were going. Ten years is a long time to wait for the love of your life to draw a line in the sand and tell the world that your relationship was meant to last forever. So, when he bought that house, she couldn’t help but fantasize about how he’d eventually propose. But six months had now passed since that happened, and with it came no sign that they were any closer to becoming engaged than they had been in year two, when they’d decided to move in together and share that downtown loft on the third floor of one of the noisiest bar districts ever created. It was for reasons like this one that, over the last week, Charlette had decided that if she really wanted that future, she might have to just reach out and take it. So, this flight had been even more nerve-wrecking than previous flights, as she strategized how she was going to make their engagement happen. It was over the course of two airplane cocktails that she’d finally decided to just come out and say it, tonight. “Babe, we’ve been together forever, and I love you so much. Let’s do something wild this Christmas. Let’s get married.” Though quite aware her bold plan might have other consequences, the liquor inside her was refusing to allow her to acknowledge anything but her impulsive side. A consequence of being an empath, she was used to flinging between extremes; transitioning harshly between bold moments of socialization and then a desire to run and hide from the world as she recovered from a nervous conscience, and also a byproduct of needing to engage in extreme introspection. But right now, the wild side was taking over, and her impulsivity would have to run its rampant course across this moment in time. Charlette grabbed her phone out of her purse just as her seatmate moved to retrieve his bags from overhead. “Better get out the candles and rosé baby, I’m almost home! Can’t wait to see you!” The fact that he hadn’t been answering was odd, but nothing she wasn’t used to already. After 10 years of being together, she figured it just meant that he’d been busy working in the studio with the boys on some new song or something. He was always busy helping them edit a bass line or lay down a drumbeat; and music wasn’t just a job for him. It was a passion, one she recognized might even run deeper than their feelings for each other. Seeing how silent he’d been, with no response for the last 48 hours, was disappointing, but it wasn’t outside of his normal behavior. At this point, she knew him well enough not to badger him for an answer, and she knew better than to interrupt him. When you’ve already seen every dark corner of someone’s inner sanctum, pushed every button, and carved out every line; control becomes an obstacle to happiness. They'd be back together soon enough, and she would make sure he knew just how much she'd missed him. The space in front of her opened up and she took the opportunity to grab her things as quickly as she could, pull them down over her thick head of long and wavy, bottle-brown hair. Walking up through the aisle and past the cockpit, she could see the captain leaned back in his chair laughing at something one of the stewardesses had been telling him. Those light grey eyes radiated warmth and connection, while a dimpled grin drew attention to his strong jawline, making Charlette feel like she was falling into that smile; and somehow this gave rise to a pang of jealousy. Which she realized she shouldn’t have, as not only was she taken, but she barely knew this man. But still, she couldn’t escape the growing desire this potential competition was putting within her. She pursed her lips into more of a sentimental pout, wishing somehow that it was her standing there sharing a laugh with him, and also wondering if marrying Michael would return them to some resemblance of that happiness. As she came to the end of the cabin, she felt somewhat defeated without really ever having started down that road. Maybe it was something in the air, but as he turned toward the aisle and found her caught up in this unintentional pout, his expression shifted from one of relaxed banter to concerned curiosity, putting a slight wrinkle across his forehead. Before realizing what was happening, Charlette watched him stand to meet her at the cockpit door, leaning against that solid metal of the frame just as he’d been doing on entry. Donovan’s POV “Hey now, why are you looking so down? Was the flight really that bad or did you try the coffee?!” Raising a playful eyebrow, he hoped to find something in her face that might help him determine what was bothering her, though this time Charlette’s best came out like more of a forced smile and registered as such for both of them. “Hey, uh look” he said, reaching out abruptly and grasping her shoulder before pulling her out of the line and over towards the cockpit with him. As other passengers flooded by, they waited together in a delicate silence. Though he’d meant to offer her a private space for voicing her troubles, he hadn't anticipated the amount of time it was going to take until everyone had disembarked from the plane. Not to mention that by pulling her aside, he was actually giving rise to something else. As the cabin emptied and the crew began to exit the plane, he once again turned to her. She’d been casting furtive glances at him as the passengers made their exit, but now she met his gaze with unflinching resolve. In that instant, he was glad he'd pulled her aside. He could sense that this was bigger than a reaction to flying, but felt the only things he could offer in the situation were general concern and a bit of levity. Fully knowing he risked refusal, but not fearing rejection, he reached out once more to touch her shoulder, hoping it might work as a gentle reminder that she could trust him. “So, look, I can tell that something’s bothering you, and I’m sorry for pulling you aside like that. But it’s been a long flight, and you look like you need to get that something off your mind. After a long flight like this, a few of us usually head over for a drink at Cleo’s. If you’re up for it, and you’d like someone to talk to, you’re welcome to join us.” While she was smiling politely, he couldn’t shake the idea that she was going to turn him down. He knew he was being a bit too forward with one of his passengers, but he felt a strange connection to this woman, and a physical attraction that had been clear to him since she boarded back in Rome. It wasn’t every day you find someone who’s mere presence gave rise to vertigo. That rush of adrenaline that comes with controlling a freefall when you’re falling into the unknown, had been a part of him since childhood. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen to learn to fly then and why he was choosing to do it now. But having a woman do this to him was something else entirely; and though in this situation he wasn’t really looking to act on that attraction, without having a willing participant, something about her melancholy expression was gnawing at him. He listened as she tried her best to brush off whatever the cause of that pouting mouth was and thanked him for his thoughtfulness. “Got it. I’m glad to hear you’re feeling okay, but if, for some reason, you find that isn’t the case, you’ll know where to find me.” Doubling over inside at the rejection was not what he expected, but he maintained a warm smile as they said goodbye. With her purse now under one arm, she leaned ever so slightly to grasp onto the handle of her rolling luggage, before meeting his eyes one last time, and leaving him with a twinge of regret. “It was really nice to meet you.” She turned the corner and he let go of the breath he'd been holding back, watching her lose wavy hair sway softly against her tall frame and wishing he could get lost in it. Losing sight of her, he figured it was probably for the best, thinking "a girl like that's probably already got someone on her mind, so what chance does that leave for me?" Taking a final breath and ducking just below the arch of the door, he returned to the cockpit to grab his flight bag and headed out into the terminal. Back in the main terminal, holiday travelers were busy bustling about like they usually do the week before a big holiday. Everyone bundled up in their winter weather gear. Small children running through the various vender stations unmanned by their parents, who were likely just hoping to escape their view long enough for a moment's peace. Those situations were always laughable, especially when they inevitably led to some poor child knocking something from a shelf to be carried out atop a high shoulder, kicking and screaming and drawing the attention of bored travelers still waiting to board. Making it to Cleo's, Donovan readied himself for another round playing wingman for his copilot and perhaps even more drinking before his solitary drive home. It was't that he wasn't interested in dating anyone right now himself, he could have his pick. It was just this season; this time of year always had a way of getting under his skin. Everyone had someone to visit back home and an endless string of complaints about them once they got there. Even here among friends, where stripes and wings and baseless claims bought them all momentary grandeur, it was only a matter of time until that feeling returned to him again. But tonight, as Paul passed him a beer, his mind remained on her face, and ghosts of Christmas past, and wishes still bound for the light of day.