Chapter Text
The dead flight attendant looks at her. Nova stares right back - paralyzed in fear. She doesn’t move. She can’t move, even if she wants to. The walls are closing in around her.
“More to drink?” The woman covered in her own blood repeats. Nova manages to shake her head. The lights on the ceiling start blinking again, and then it goes dark. She is stuck in a pitch black room and from a distance, she hears: “More to drink?”
Nova Cliff’s eyes shoot open. Her green eyes are wide and she catches herself staring at the seat in front of her.
“Ma’am?” She blinks her eyes, slowly returning to reality. A flight attendant stands next to her seat, looking her way with a concerned expression. It is a woman not much older than her, with blonde hair and kind brown eyes. She catches herself staring, as if looking for injuries on the woman's face. How crazy she must look.
Nova glues on a smile.
“Sorry?”
“More to drink?”
The phrase sends shivers down her spine and she shakes her head.
“I’m good, thanks.”
The rumbling from the plane makes her anxiety spike. Nova dislikes flying. Especially now that she’s doing it alone. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath.
It’s been a long day. She woke up at three, with only thirty minutes of sleep. No breakfast, only half a sandwich and cup of coffee - black, as they were out of milk - that she forced herself to eat in the airport cafeteria back home, before departure.
The taxi had picked her up at four, then was an one hour drive. The taxi driver was an extroverted man who kept bothering Nova with attempts at conversations. She politely half-assed her way through the conversation, and let out a sigh of relief when they finally arrived at the airport.
Now here she is, sitting in an uncomfortable seat, only one hour into the flight.
It is crowded. A full plane with little room to move. No way out, she’s stuck here.
The claustrophobia creeps up and she takes a deep breath again.
Inhale, and exhale, in the way her therapist taught her as a teen.
Nova has always been a nervous wreck. Always anxious about something.
Maybe that's what makes her a good therapist. She knows the ups and downs in life, and itches to help people.
“Exuce me, can I have a vodka? And orange juice, please.”
The flight attendant eyes her skeptically and Nova gives her a sheepish smile. She probably tries to tell her age, or if she has some kind of alcohol problem.
Either way, she is handed her drinks.
As she prepares the plastic glass, blending the drinks together, she notices a kid staring at her, from the seats across. He looks curious, probably fascinated by her style. The tattooed arms, the eyebrow and nose piercing, and dark makeup framing her face. The smokey eyeliner brings out her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks, which she usually covers behind makeup.
Usually, she’d go full out goth, but she was exhausted this morning. And she wanted to avoid the staring.
Even her clothes are neutral - kind of. An oversized shirt with layered chain necklaces, a simple skirt, and ripped leggings underneath.
The mother to the kid meets her eyes. Stare is a better word. Nova turns her head away and takes a sip of the drink. She grimaces at the taste.
Just then, the plane shakes. Nova must be one of the only people to react. She relaxes a bit. Nothing serious. Good.
She grabs for her green backpack and rummages through it. She finds a map of tiny pills and discreetly pops one into the palm of her sweaty hand. She swallows the anxiety meds with another sip of her low-quality drink and leans back. Her eyes land on the window and she peeks out at the clouds.
As a kid, she loved flying. She would be fascinated by the clouds and excitedly point it out - not realizing how it annoyed the other passengers.
She comes to think of how high up in the air they’re flying and her stomach churns.
Nova looks away and that's when she sees the man in the seat one row away from her, gazing directly at her with blue-ish eyes. She glares at the blonde man. Now she’s getting sick of the judgmental stares.
“First time flyin’?” He asks, with a smile on his lips. The smile makes his dimples visible, and Nova does her best to not stare.
“No.” She looks down at the book in his lap, trying to get a sneak at the title. An old curious habit. He notices where her eyes go and holds up the book. She reads the title Of Mice And Men.
“You’ve read it?”
“It’s on my to-read list.”
“You’re one of those book nerds?” He grins and eyes her up and down. But it’s not in a judgemental way. He looks curious. Like she’s the most interesting thing ever. She’s far from interesting, though.
“Dare I say the same thing about you?” She asks.
The blonde man chuckles.
“Touché.” He eyes her again and this time it lingers on her face, taking in the details of the nose piercing and dark makeup. “I’m Sawyer, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Sawyer. I’m Nova.”
She rarely talks to strangers. Maybe it’s the paranoia, or her mothers voice, saying “Don't talk to strangers” from when she was a kid. But she finds herself interested in the conversation with Sawyer. She doesn’t even protest when he orders them whiskey.
The buzz from the alcohol and the medication works wonders, and Nova finds herself relaxing, despite being on an airplane.
“So, Ms. Addams…” Nova raises an eyebrow at the nickname. Sawyer takes another sip from his cup. Is he drunk? What a lightweight. “...How old are ya?”
“I’m 25. How old are you?”
“I’m 30.”
Now it is Nova's turn to look at him skeptically. He’s bluffing.
“And how old are you, really? ”
Sawyer looks startled.
“How did you…”
“Gut feeling.” She shrugs. It is true, though. She’s usually right. “So how old are you?”
“35.” He replies.
“That’s not too bad. I thought you were going to say 40.”
“Do I look…”
Nova grins at how offended he looks. Just then, turbulence strikes again. This time, Nova is not the only one to react. Sawyer just chuckles. He leans closer to her, to say something snarky, but she’ll never know what he was about to say.
A booming noise can be heard. People gasp for air and Nova instinctively grips the armrest and holds it tight when the floor begins to vibrate. A metallic rattling can be heard, making her stomach twist in anxiety. What was that?
FASTEN SEATBELT - the sign blinks, making everyone move hastily. Another flight attendant - a dark haired woman with an Australian accent - starts ordering for everyone to get back to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. The other flight attendant rushes to help people frozen in shock to do as told. Nova's hands tremble as she fastens her own seatbelt, pulling it hard. Sawyer looks pale and doesn’t meet her gaze when he tells her they’ll be fine.
Everything happens so fast. The next thing she knows, turbulence causes people to fall out of their seats, falling left and right to the horrible sound of broken bones. The blonde flight attendant screams in horror - and pain - as her boy hits the ground. Nova almost throws up.
If this is another one of her fucked up dreams, she wants to wake up. Now.
But this is reality, and all she can do is fall.
People are screaming and bags and luggage fall down to the floor or on top of people. One bag hits the back of Sawyer's head and he grunts loudly. When the oxygen masks fall down, Nova is quick to act.
She pulls it over her own face and breathes rapidly into it. She screams along with the other passengers - a sound that rings in her ears along with the mysterious metallic rattling.
Minutes pass by, but it feels like only a few seconds of pure fear and pain. The pain breaks in half and the screaming fades as people fall into the unknown, towards a quick but terrifying death.
A sharp pain causes Nova to lose her breath momentarily. Something impales her, and she comes to think that this is the last moment in her life. 25 years, but who will remember her?
Everything hurts, but it all will be over. She just hopes it goes quickly.
Then comes the moment of the crash - and then - silence.