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Elle’s alarm went off at 6:30 the next morning. She groaned and silenced her phone. Last night had included an entire bottle of wine and an extended second floor porch sitting while she watched revelers down on the street. The house was only three blocks from the northern border of the Quarter and there’d been a steady stream until she’d finally turned in around 1. It had been beautiful, the city lit with strung lights and the moon softly filtering through the trees.

She loved this town.

She would love it a lot more if Jamie was with her.

Hence her early wake-up.

She stretched, luxuriating momentarily in the softness of the bed, before rolling to her feet. His flight into Detroit should be taking off and she wanted to make sure she followed him every step of the way.

It was some strange sort of irony that Elle had made it fine, flying standby, while Jamie was having all the issues.

She was insanely glad she wasn’t actually at work. All of her contacts had reported extended issues with flights since yesterday morning. They would have likely had her in the main terminal at YVR had she been home.

The memory of bad flight days made her shudder.

She padded out of the master bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

The house was huge. It was a converted double shotgun with one side of the house holding a bedroom at the back, the kitchen, and then a living room. The owner had opened up the floorplan with multiple doorways tying both sides together at the kitchen and the living room. The second floor was nothing but luxurious bedrooms.

Jamie had really found the perfect weekend getaway spot.

After she set a pot of coffee brewing, she turned on the weather channel and checked her phone. Jamie had sent her a message a half hour earlier, letting her know he was boarded and the plane was actually taxiing. Well, at least his day was off to a good start.

She sent back a sleepy morning selfie.

“We’ve got an update on that winter storm that popped up overnight, folks. If you haven’t already battened down the hatches, now is the time.” Elle’s eyes snapped from her phone to the TV, her jaw dropping at the radar.

That giant red line cutting up from Missouri and all the way into Northwestern Michigan had not been there the night before. Dread filled her heart. The weather forecaster was calling for upwards of eight inches of snow in some places.

Southern Michigan was one of those places. She tuned out the explanation of Lake Effect snow. Logging into her systems at the airport from her computer, Elle tracked airport closures. Everything the storm had hit was closed temporarily. Chicago. St. Louis. Minneapolis-St. Paul. All the major Midwestern hubs except for Detroit. This was not good.

Me: I’ve got some real bad news.

She knew Jamie’s flight would have Wi-Fi and they’d be at cruising altitude very soon. At least she had started off the morning with a good picture before she shared the weather report.

Me: There’s this snow system coming in. They might have told you about it already. It’s bad. Really bad. If your pilot is smart they’ll divert but if you land in Detroit you’re going to be stuck.

“Son of a bitch.” She tossed her phone on the couch, still watching the developing storm front. Yesterday there had been a 30% chance of precipitation in the central states. “Son of a BITCH.”

This weekend away for two was about to become a strange solo vacation for both her and Jamie. She had the benefit of not being stuck in an airport, but still. Her fingernails dug into her palms, identical crescent marks appearing on both hands.

It was a full thirty minutes before Jamie finally got back to her.

Jamie: We’re being diverted to Atlanta. That’s some sort of hope, right?

Elle ran a hand through her hair, mussing the already tangled locks. The Jetz site hadn’t updated with this development but she could see flights already heading to ATL. There were four flights leaving to MSY in the next few hours, none of them direct, with seats few and far between.

Me: I can book you a flight, but there’s no guarantee you’ll get on them. Delays are already over two hours in and out of ATL.

She sighed. Her coffee went down a little bitter; it echoed her mood really well.

Me: Worst case scenario you could drive? 6 hours according to Google.

She had more than enough money in her bank account to cover a couple of flights and even a car rental. He’d just have to check in at the desk. For which ever flight would work.

Jamie: Flight probably. Even though I’m having the worst luck. What’s the earliest ETA?

Me: You could be here in time for lunch.

It would have to be a late lunch. She mentally made a list of the place that would be easy to get to and not crowded by tourists.

Jamie: Maybe a few drinks and some dancing?

She laughed at the mental image of Jamie twirling her around to some jazz. In the early morning it was way funnier than it should be. She should have brought a better dress.

Elle’s fingers flew across the keyboard, booking a seat on all four flights Jamie should be able to catch. They were spread out over a six hour period. If he didn’t make one of them and decided to drive after waiting for the last one, it would be after midnight before he got in. That cut their time together from a three day weekend to a twenty hour marathon.

She glanced outside, noting the sun struggling over the horizon. It was almost 6. She felt exhausted. Jamie probably felt worse. She took her coffee to the porch to sit and watch the city wake up.

-------

Jamie: Just landed in ATL. Got your flight confirmations. THANK YOU!! Headed to first gate.

It was a little after 9. Elle was compulsively updating flights, trying to find the best available seating. It wasn’t looking good. She cursed DFW hardcore. A lot of the traffic jam was because of the weather but a lot of it was because two concourses in one of the busiest airports in North American had gone down for eight hours yesterday.

It was a miracle she wasn’t in the same boat as Jamie right now.

The 9:45 flight was the first but it was delayed almost two hours so Elle encouraged him to try for the 10:45 take-off.

Me: Next is going to be with United. Terminal E. You’re gonna have to run again.

ATL was a mess, most of the time. Lots of terminals and underground passages and why the fuck was this so difficult?

Jamie’s next text was timestamped at 10:27

Jamie: Missed that one. No seats. Next one is at 12, right?

Me: Yeah. I’m seeing six seats on that one. That first one should be taking off at the same time so you’ll have to decide which one you want to risk.

Elle had every finger and toe crossed but it was really for naught. If they’d known this was going to happen, she could have gotten him a preferred ticket yesterday. At the last minute though, he was going to get bumped every time.

She was looking at car rentals when her phone buzzed with another text.

Tyler: I hear your boy is stuck in Georgia while you soak up the Louisiana sun.

Tyler: Sucks dude.

She frowned. It was awfully early for Tyler to be awake after what she could only imagine was a spectacular night of drinking in Columbus.

Me: Working on it now. At least he’s within three states? Better than DC.

Tyler: Seriously sucks. He’s been so excited. I caught him doodling EM + JB on play sheets three days ago.

Elle laughed at the image of the Captain hiding in a corner during a team meeting, scribbling hearts all over a piece of paper with their initials. She didn’t really buy it until Tyler sent her two pictures. And holy shit. The first one was Jamie in what was probably their tape review room, head bent over a piece of paper with a look of utter concentration on his face. The second was a closer picture over Jamie’s shoulder.

She could very clearly see the initials, no hearts, Jamie was writing out.

Me: Holy shit that’s fucking adorable.

Me: How’s Ohio?

Tyler: Oh, you know. Sex drugs and rock n roll. How’s NOLA?

Elle laughed at her phone.

Me: Oh, you know. Same. I’m thinking Bourbon Street for breakfast, see if I can’t find a bar that’ll give me free food if I take my top off.

Tyler sent her back a string of shocked emojis.

Tyler: TAKE PICTURES

She shook her head at him. Sometimes he was a smarmy little shit. Okay. A lot of the time he was. Jamie had assured her on many occasions that he never meant these comments in any serious way. It was still strange. He’d been so unfailingly polite in the previous years they’d known each other.

Me: I never leave photographic evidence.

Tyler: Well, all right. Be safe then, I guess.

Me: You too.

The suggestion of food had her stomach growling. She debated between going out to a restaurant and hitting up a corner store for supplies. Not knowing when Jamie would get there or what sort of food he could eat, she settled for a restaurant and got dressed for the day.

By the time Jamie texted her next, she was posted up at Envie on the corner of Decatur and Barracks just a few blocks off the French Market. She loved this place. It was open and airy with local art all over the walls and the best caramel mochaccino in the whole of the city. She took hers cold while she waited on breakfast.

Jamie: That first delayed flight is still delayed and it looks like the second noon flight is going to be full. I’m thinking about just getting a car.

Jamie: Dinnertime isn’t too late, right? We’ll get at least a night.

Elle knew just one night would never be enough, not with Jamie. She’d already written off the bulk of their plans, had stripped down their itinerary to a wander through the Quarter, dinner at Café du Monde, and then a disappearing act into their house. Her flight took off at 10. 22 hours to go and Jamie wasn’t even there.

Me: It’s up to you. Last flight is at 2, would put you here at 3:30. I’m not near my computer though so I can’t check. What are delays looking like?

Jamie: An hour average right now. They’re opening up the airports again. O’Hare/Midway are good to go, I think Minnesota too.

Well, that was good news. ATL was a common overflow destination and if the Midwest was already digging itself out, by the time the two o’clock flight was ready to depart, everything might be on track.

She really hoped it would be.

Me: Like I said, it’s up to you.

Her hand stirred the whipped cream into her drink idly as she waited for his response.

Jamie: I guess I’ll wait for the flight.

She was secretly relieved. Although she had no doubt he could make the 6 hour car ride, if he could get here sooner all the better. Her stomach had been a bundle of worry for over a day now. She needed him here as soon as possible.

The sun was approaching its zenith, the café heating but not excessively. The temperature was perfect and Elle could have sat in her comfy corner booth for hours. She wasted more time than the staff probably would have liked, first enjoying her food at length and then another mocha. It was close to two before she started walking back to the house. If Jamie landed at 3:30 she needed to leave by 3 to get to arrivals to pick him up. That thought put a pep in her step.

-------

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay-“

Jamie didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to hear this at all. The attendant made her polite excuses. A fucking flat tire.

A FUCKING FLAT TIRE.

He checked his phone. It was almost three. His flight was already 45 minutes delayed.

“This shit is fucking ridiculous.” He couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. Seriously. He’d been traveling for over 30 hours, he had about sixteen to go until his amazing, magical weekend was over, and he was still hundreds of miles away from where he was supposed to be.

Me: I’ve got some bad news.

Tyler: Duuuuuuuude, you are not still stuck in ATL.

Jamie swore under his breath. He’d meant to send that to Elle. The message was way calmer than he felt but he didn’t want her to know exactly how much chill he was lacking.

Me: Yeah.

Me: A fucking flat tire.

Tyler: That is fucking ridiculous. Absolutely.

He knew Segs didn’t feel bad for him because a moment later a picture popped up on his phone of Segs on the ice in Columbus, surrounded by jerseys from almost every team in the league.

Me: Are you texting me during the skills-competition?

Segs: Nope, just practice and photo ops.

Segs: Toews says hi by the way. And that your problems suck.

Me: You better not be telling everyone about my travel mishaps.

Segs: A 30 minute delay is a mishap. You’re in the middle of a bona fide travel disaster. Of course I’m telling everyone.

Jesus. The entire NHL was going to know.

Me: You’re not telling them who I’m meeting right?

Me: That would be bad.

Segs: Nah man. I got your back. And hers. Hers is much nicer.

Well, that was a relief at least. The attendant finished her spiel and everyone rose. It might be hours, apparently, before a replacement tire could be acquired. He followed the flow of humanity out into the terminal. ATL was starting to feel like a second home. He got himself a coffee from his new favorite café and headed to the new terminal.

This wouldn’t be so bad. Just needed a new plane. That’s all. He texted Elle to let her know what was going on and that he’d be further delayed. Elle response was immediate, just a frowny face and an OK. She sent another, just a request for an update when he had one. Which meant she was away from her computer and couldn’t work her airline magic.

If he left right now in a car he’d be there at 8 Central Standard Time.

They could still catch dinner.

The other passengers from his plane began congregating at the new gate and he wandered over. He arrived just in time to watch the gate agent tear apart their pilot. His jaw dropped as this tiny woman, all flashing eyes and vengeance, ranted about having more than enough time before crew rest kicked in to make the flight to NOLA. She even paused and glanced around, finding Jamie’s face in the crowd. She pointed right at him and Jamie took a step back, surprised at being singled out.

“And this guy. This guy right here got caught up in the DFW disaster yesterday. He’s been traveling for a day and a half to meet a special someone and you’re going to tell him, that man right there, that you refuse to fly? That his weekend away is about to be cut even shorter?”

Jamie’s eyes popped wide. How the fuck did the gate agent know his story? And what did she mean the pilot was refusing to fly?

The pilot glared at the agent and glared at Jamie. He also glared at every single one of his crew. “I’m fatigued. It’s not safe for me to fly.”

Hands on her hips, the agent was on a mission. “You’ve still got five hours before mandatory crew rest. You’ve only put in half a day’s work. Sounds more like you’re hung over or something. Too much fun at the bar last night.”

It was the perfectly worst thing to say. The pilot did look really green around the gills, like he’d had an interesting evening indeed. The pilot turned to the terminal phone at the gate and made a call. The crew watched him. The passengers watched him. Hell, the people from the next gate were watching the drama unfold.

When he spoke, he was calm but firm stating that he was fatigued and could not continue on to MSY. His call completed, he spared one more look for the still enraged gate agent and walked away.

Jamie had never hated flying so much in his life.

-------

Me: I don’t even have an ETA any more. We’re waiting on a replacement crew.

Me: The pilot just gave up on flying today.

Elle: :(((((((((((((( Better they don’t fly then they fly tired?

Me: I guess.

Me: I’m just so exhausted from all this shit.

And he really was. He’d mostly given up on holding his own head up, his large frame folded up against a wall. His hiding hole in the airport was squished behind a set of bench chairs next to a trash can. And he really was considering it a hiding hole. He’d been recognized three times since they’d kicked him off the last plane an hour ago.

A part of him wondered if maybe he and Elle were just not destined to ever truly be together.

After the shit show of travel issues, he could make a compelling argument.

Elle: I’ve called around. Your flight crew is coming in from Toronto. They’re should be in final decent, so at the gate in 30.

That was good news. So long as nothing else went wrong.

-------

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will begin the re-boarding of Flight 293 to New Orleans at this time. All passengers in Zone A are welcome to make their way to the gate. Thank you for your patience.”

Jamie was having the craziest dream. He was stuck in the MTS Centre in Winnipeg, trying to track Segs down so they could get to the airport while the team waited on a plane for them. He was looking everywhere. The intercom kept repeating the same information, a flight to Louisiana.

Jamie knew they were supposed to be on that flight, even if they were headed back to Dallas to play the Lightning. He just had to find Segs and then they could go.

-------

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is last call for ticketed passengers on Flight 293 to New Orleans.”

Jamie had finally found Segs and was running through the terminal to make his plane. The flight had been delayed four ways from Sunday while he was searching for his friend. But, they had the all clear when he’d stumbled upon Segs, surprisingly with Crosby and Stamkos.

He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder, urging Segs onward.

They were so close.

-------

Jamie startled awake, elbow hitting a trashcan and his leg striking the chair bank he’d been sleeping behind. He had a crick in his neck the size of Texas and the feeling that nothing was right in the world. For one thing, it was dark outside. Or at least, that shade of dark that suggested the sun had just given up but night hadn’t fully arrived.

He stretched and looked around, catching sight of a clock on the wall. Yup. Seven. Definitely after dark. He rubbed his eyes and-

Shit. Seven? SEVEN?!? His flight was supposed to take off at 5. He bolted upright and checked his phone. Eleven unanswered messages from Elle.

Elle: You should be boarding any minute.

Elle: And, blessedly, absolutely no delays!

A half hour later:

Elle: Ok, well, I hope you’re busy signing autographs on the planes and are about to turn your phone off.

Elle: Yay you’re in the air! Text me when you get wifi! YOU’RE ALMOST HERE!!!

Elle: Please tell me you’re asleep on the plane.

Elle: Please do not tell me something awful has happened and I’m going to get a terrible text from Segs soon.

Elle: Segs hasn’t heard from you either?

Elle: Jamie?

She’d called then. He listened to the voicemail before doing anything else. She sounded really worried. Like, about to call the airline to see if he’d even checked in, privileged information she wouldn’t have since she didn’t work for American, the company running this flight. Jamie ran a hand through his hair, his head drooping farther with each one of her worried pleas to just get ahold of her.

Elle: For Christ’s sake Jamie. Your flight is about to land. I’m headed to the airport. If you’re not there I’m going to cry.

Elle: And now I’m crying.

Elle: Just, please, tell me you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.

That last one was timestamped only a couple of minutes ago. He called her immediately, worrying his thumb nail as he waited for her to pick up.

“Jamie. Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you?”

He blew out a breath. She didn’t sound angry, just really fucking worried.

“I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry. Jesus fucking Christ I am sorry. I fell asleep waiting for the new crew and just now woke up.”

She was deathly silent for a moment. Jamie was terrified that he’d broken her brain. And then she started making a snuffling, breathless sound.

“Elle? Are you- are you laughing?”

She wheezed out something that could have been a ‘yeah’ or a ‘hey’ or a ‘you’re a fucking dumbass’ and continued to laugh.

He let her go for close to five minutes as he wandered back towards a ticketing agent. At least someone found this amusing.

As her belly laughs died down he sighed out, “Are you done yet?”

“Yeah- yeah I think so. Fuck. Seriously? After all this, the first flight that actually does make it here unhindered you sleep through? Oh my fuck.”

And she was laughing again.

Jamie spared a glance at the ceiling, trying to calm his agitation at himself. It was seven. She’d warned that the 5 flight was the last one out for the night, the rest going to MSY either diverted or canceled.

“Maybe you should get a car. I mean, it’d be after midnight by the time you got here, but at least you’d get here.”

As she spoke he was yawning. He was still exhausted; it had been a hell of a day since the five hours of sleep he’d gotten that morning and his two hour long cat nap would never be enough. “I don’t think I’d make it half way. I’m so used to having to play three hour long games but I think the last 40 hours have destroyed all of that stamina.”

Jamie could feel her disappointment in his soul from the sigh she gave him and the long pause before she spoke again.

“The next flight leaves in the morning. I have to be at the airport by 8. I mean, you could still come. We could get a few hours or something. I- I just- God fucking dammit Jamie. This weekend was supposed to be perfect.” And there was the mental break that Jamie’d had that morning. He was wondering if Elle was going to crack. She’d been unflappable during this whole kerfuffle, so long as she could make a plan and had the answers.

But there weren’t any answers here. He couldn’t turn back time and they were out of it anyway. “I’m so sorry Babe.”

There was nothing left to say. Jamie sat down with a heavy heart. He buried his face in his free hand and actually fought back the urge to cry. This was supposed to be the most amazing, bestest, sexiest weekend of his whole fucking life and he was stuck in Atlanta. Georgia.

“I know, Jamie. I know.” Fuck. Elle actually was crying. He could hear it in her voice. “The good news is there’s a flight for Dallas in the morning. Direct. You should have no problem making it.”

His laugh was bitter and entirely unamused at the prospect of first sleeping alone and then returning to his empty house without delay.

-------

Tyler: What’s this I hear about the weekend getting canceled? It’s just starting!

Elle almost threw her phone at the wall. This shit was not funny and Tyler was an ass. He was probably drunk already, living it up in Columbus while she withered away in NOLA. And Jamie cooled his heels in ATL.

Fuck airplanes. She was quitting her job. She’d just fucking move to Dallas. A wistful smile crossed her face at the thought.

Me: I don’t want to talk about it. All you need to know is that Jamie isn’t making it and I’m going home in the morning.

Tyler: Awwww, belle. I’m sorry :((((((((((((

She sent a thanks and set her phone down. It was late enough now that the sounds of night parties drifted through her open windows. Fuck everything. She wanted to tear this city apart with her bare hands. And then she wanted to fly to DFW and tear that airport apart too. And then she wanted to go to Jamie’s house and get her magic time.

She picked her phone up just once more.

Me: Weekend aborted. Jamie still stuck in ATL. Back on time tomorrow.

Nicole had at first been stupidly obnoxious with her teasing texts about their weekend until Elle had broken the news that it hadn’t even started yet. And then Nicole had suffered through endless complaining and bitching and moaning and an undignified phone call when she wasn’t sure if Jamie was alive or dead where Elle imagined the very worst.

The redhead hadn’t cracked a joke in hours which belied the seriousness of the situation.

Elle drained one of the three bottles of wine she’d picked up in preparation for a marathon session of hanging out and having sex. She cracked the next one and resumed her porch sitting perch.

It was going to be a really long night. The second bottle drained a lot faster than she would have expected. It could actually be one of the shorter nights in recent memory, just the thought that Jamie should be between her thighs right at that moment making the wine go down a lot quicker than normal.

Notes