And Nothing's Going To Stop Me But Divine Intervention, I Reckon It's Again My Turn To Win Some Or Learn Some, But I Won't Hesitate No More, No More

--"I'm Yours (Live)", Jason Mraz

One.

“There's no need to make this any more difficult, Tilly,” Ryan whispered as he made his way up the aisle back to his seat on the plane. Expecting to see his friend still seated next to him by the window, he sat down without ever casting his glance sideways. “We can just go once we set down, you know?” he continued before he finally looked over.

Instead of finding the familiar ash blonde strands of one Tilly Fleet he was startled to discover the face of an eight-year-old boy staring back at him.

Neither of them spoke at first. They were each too preoccupied with sizing up the individual seated next to him. To his credit, Ryan thought the boy didn't seem terribly unsettled. He couldn't quite be sure, but from his vantage point the kid was almost wearing an oversized grin on his face. In fact, Ryan felt that he was the one more caught off-guard by the turn of events than the child was. He wrinkled his forehead. He didn't know where to go from here. That's when he made the decision to go with the obvious.

“Who are you?” they both asked at the same time.

The boy laughed loudly.

“I think you're in my friend's seat,” Ryan pushed on.

“No, I'm not,” the boy replied.

“She's going to be coming back any minute and I think she's going to want her seat. So why don't you just move on over to wherever it is you belong?”

“No.”

Ryan was stumped. Coming back from the lavatory he had known exactly what to say, he had known how best to respond to Tilly's last question. He had no idea what response for the situation he currently found himself in. He was quite confident this wasn't covered in the briefing before the flight. He turned his face frontward, he sat back, and he decided to ruminate on what the next course of action should be.

That's when he heard the familiar tinkle of giggling behind his seat.

“Having trouble up there?” he heard Tilly's muffled voice ask.

Ryan immediately started shaking his head. He tugged at his nose between his thumb and index finger, attempting to calm himself down. His partner was a lot of things—competent, intelligent, and, yes, slightly funny. Most of all, though, Ryan found her rather exhausting most of the time. There were times when she didn't seem much older than the boy seated next to him.

If he hadn't seen her out in the field, if he hadn't been through hell and high water with her, he would have questioned her focus more.

“Nope, no trouble at all,” he answered back. “I'm just getting to know my new friend here....”

“My name's Kevin,” the boy replied.

“Yup, I just getting to know my new friend Kevin here,” he heard himself say, his voice trailing away. That was met with more giggling and the distinct feeling of his seat being kicked from behind.

One more hour to go, he thought. Just one more hour.

----

Ryan scratched the back of his head. His partner Tilly had gone off-plan yet again. It was supposed to be a routine flight. They were supposed to sit next to each other on the plane, not draw any attention to themselves, and arrive in Portland with a minimum of fuss. Instead, the two of them found themselves taking on the role of babysitters.

After the initial chess match between himself and her—Ryan not wanting to admit she had tricked him completely and Tilly absolutely enjoying every minute of tightening the screws on her dark-haired companion—he had moved to the seat behind her and the kid. It turns out the baby-faced Kevin was flying alone on the flight. From what Ryan could gather, Kevin had been dropped off by his mother in Phoenix and was to be picked up by his father in Portland once the plane landed. The only reason Ryan knew that much was because the flight attendant with the shaky knees (Delores?) kept asking Kevin every half-hour if he needed anything else.

Ryan would hear Tilly and the kid shoo her away with wild flailing of their arms. Then the two of them would double over in laughter at well they played their little game together.

“So you must be a big boy, flying all by yourself like this, kiddo,” he heard Tilly ask.

“It's nothing. This is my third time,” he heard Kevin answer.

“Really?!” she answered incredulously. “I didn't start flying by myself till I was twelve... at least. Wow.”

Ryan knew that was a lie. When she and him had first met, Tilly had told him that she had shuttled between foster homes since she was nine. She had also told him that she had probably seen more states than she knew all the names for at the time. The rest of her story may have changed as often as the pixie blonde haircut and light green contacts she had on, but that part of her backstory he had always believed. She went over the same details too often and in the same exact order for it to have been a total fabrication.

He himself hadn't been on many planes before joining up. He grew up in Los Angeles and L.A. is where he had mostly stayed for most of his life. He didn't know exactly what had prompted him to seek out greener pastures eight years ago, but she had explained to him numerous times that a fish stuck in the same bowl all his life never really grows. It's kind of like Finding Nemo, she told him.

There were times when he wondered if she wasn't more right than he let on. Maybe if he had gone on more planes when he was a kid he would've never had to fall into his line a work. He might have never joined the company.

He might have never been partners with her.

That's no good, he thought.

“You're just a brave little soldier, that's what you are,” he heard Tilly continue.

The kid rustled in his seat.

“You talk funny,” the kid said to her.

“Yeah, well, that's why they call me 'The Entertainer.' That's me, Tilly the Entertainer.”

He heard them both laugh.

Ryan had heard enough. He and Tilly had a long day once they arrived at the airport. She seemed to have things well in hand, he thought. Sure, she was making a spectacle of herself, but that was nothing new. It seemed like every time their bosses told them to keep a low profile, she took it upon herself to be even more vivacious and lively. There he was, curled up in his seat, wearing a non-descript gray t-shirt and blue jeans, not looking anyone in the eye if he could avoid it, and she was practically inviting an audience. But, he'd been working with her for four years now. It was obvious she was never going to change.

Besides, he was just a kid.

The two of them could talk as long as they wanted. Ryan was going to get some sleep, though.

----

When he slept, he thought of having sex with his partner. That's what he always thought about at first when he was restless. While he awake he never publicly harbored the thought, never said it out loud. But now, as he lost himself in his dreams, he found himself in the recurring scene of his fantasies. Tilly was there, her hair dyed red, her eyes slate gray, and she was wearing that skinny two-piece she had worn when they had been assigned down in Fiji. The two of them were lying on towels in either a sauna or some other type of steam room. It really didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was she was throwing herself at him. No games, no lies—she was, for once, just being upfront and forthright with him. In return, he was giving her what she'd always criticized him for.

He was being as brutal with her as he'd seen her become while on the job. Rather than overanalyze the possibilities, he wasn't hesitating in the least.

He was forceful and rough, pushing her down, not allowing her to take control of the situation like she always did when she was awake. He didn't allow himself to follow her lead, and the experience was much better for it. He was taking her by hand, by the knot of her hair, by whatever he could get his hands on, and he was the one letting her know when it was time to stop.

He had her right where he wanted her finally.

While he slept, Ryan couldn't decide if it was the room that was steamy or if the room had been normal and it was just them.

----

He was awakened abruptly by Tilly shaking his shoulders.

“Wake up, Ryan. We've got a problem,” she told him.

“What? What is it?” he said, irritated at the interruption.

“It's Kevin. He's dead.”

He looked at her face above his. He searched her green eyes for the joke, for some sign that this was yet another one of her tricks.

She was deadly serious.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers