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Outreach with the ESA to thank their European counterparts for contributions to the Artemis program means, they find themselves on a non-stop 9 hour commercial flight from Houston, Texas to Paris, France. Business class was rarely an option for government employees, and it had eluded them once again but they had at least secured an exit row for extra leg room (a requisite when you travel with Jeremy Hansen) and the row behind it.
They all, save Jeremy, had worked with ESA astronauts on board the ISS. Reid had loved his time working with German astronaut Alexander Gerst. It was a playful camaraderie solidified further through their affinity for making goofy social media videos together, taking fun photos, wagering sports bets when their teams played one another and complete trust and reliance on one another when performing spacewalks. Victor had worked on the ISS with French astronaut Thomas Pesquet during expedition 64 and Christina with Italian astronaut Luca Parmitano during 60 and 61. They were deeply appreciative to the collaboration between their agencies. It’s what got them to the moon. Victor was always saying “If you want to go fast go alone, if you want to go far go together” and that sentiment always reflected back the highly symbiotic relationship they had with every single person contributing to the mission.
Some careful seat selection roulette in the airline’s app right before check-in; coupled with Reid flirting with the gate agent resulted in two empty middle seats in both rows, one in the exit row between Victor and Jeremy, and one between him and Christina.
They were all on this European PA event solo, NASA wasn’t picking up the tab for spouses, partners or families.
“Want the window?” Reid asks her as they shuffled down the main aisle.
“You like the window, you take it,” she offers.
An hour into the flight she’s shifting, restless and uncomfortable in her seat. Reid looks up from his book; his gaze tracking over to her, reading glasses perched on his nose.
“Hey,” he reaches for her gently with his left hand, “you ok?”
“Fine just…”
“Hip replacement giving you grief?” He questions reading her expression.
She nods.
“Here,” he shifts unbuckling his seatbelt, putting his book and glasses in the seat pocket in front of him, moving pillows and blankets where they’d stacked them temporarily in the middle seat, flipping up both arm rests. He shifts his body to lean back against the window propping a pillow behind him He stretches one of his legs long in the room between the seats ahead of them and loops his other on the middle seat.
“C’mere” he says softly opening his arms, unfurling the small airplane blankets.
“Reid, really, you don’t have to…” she starts.
“I know I don’t have to, I want to. Stretching out works in my favour too,”
She unfastens her seatbelt and slides towards him, lifting herself over his leg that’s resting on the seat and leans back in between his thighs; settling into the space he’s created for her, resting her shoulders against his chest. He props a pillow behind her head and drapes the blanket over her.
“There we go, better?” He smiles his voice near the side of her head.
She nods, “Thanks.”
“Why don’t you try to get some shut eye?” He suggests, adding, “From the snoring I hear coming from in front of us I know Jeremy’s already out cold. I’ll wake you when they bring around the wine.” He adds with a grin.
She nods feeling so much more comfortable now that she’s out stretched. Reid recovers his phone from the seat pocket, and reaches for his headphones, figuring he’ll give the biography he was reading a break and try to make some headway in responding to emails while listening to music.
Half an hour later he knows Christina is sleeping because of the way her breathing has shifted. Her long inhales and exhales are measured and rhythmic against his frame.
A voice whispers in their direction from the aisle. This draws Reid’s attention away from his phone.
“Aren’t we cozy back here,” Victor smiles on his way to the lavatory. “Jeremy hasn’t offered to cuddle with me once, this entire flight.”
“Her hip Ike,” Reid reminds glaring at him.
Victor nods, then cheekily adds,
“Does playing with her hair help her hip pain too Commander?”
Reid freezes; he hadn’t even realized he was doing it, but he looks down at his right hand and sure enough it’s tangled in her curls.
He flushes slightly.
“Relax, I’m not calling HR, but there are plenty of civilians with smart phones on this flight so keep that in mind.”
“She was uncomfortable…” he starts gently recoiling his fingertips from her scalp.
“Reid you’re fine. Jeremy would be doing the same thing with her if she was in our row. Well maybe not the hair thing… I’m glad you’re looking out for her.”
“Like you weren’t hovering around her every time she got out of a vehicle or walked up a staircase at Kennedy last week…” he refutes.
“Gotta go, restroom’s free…” he says avoiding the rest of the conversation by walking off towards the bathroom.
Reid looks down at the small frame enveloped in his and he sees her visibly shiver. He’s already got all of the Air France supplied blankets draped over her so he gently manoeuvres his arm reaching for his backpack under the seat. He pulls out his expedition 40 hoodie and lays it over top of her. He sees her shift a little and rests his arm across her collar, his hand landing with a gentle grounding pressure on her shoulder. She sighs happily and her measured breathing resumes.
Ike on his return from the restroom cracks a smile shaking his head as he looks down at the two of them as he passes by before plunking back down in his seat.
Victor’s teasing aside, Reid had reconciled that he didn’t care and that he wasn’t going to let it bother him. It was just proper expeditionary behaviour to look out for his teammate. She was still slowly recovering from surgery and suffering a little discomfort. He was being reasonable... Supportive... Mostly appropriate. But in the back of his mind, when he was deeply honest with himself, he couldn’t imagine being this doting with Jenni Gibbons…Tracy Dyson… Loral O’Hara. Christina was different to him.
He was pulled out of his internal argument, by a beautiful stewardess quietly leaning in and moving down the middle seat table in front of them and dropping two airline sized bottles of red wine, plastic airline glasses, and a small plate.
“Cheese plates are usually for first class, but I brought this for you. You’re very sweet with her. She means a lot to you no?” she whispers her voice laced with a soft french accent, cautious not to wake the woman wrapped in the man's arms.
He is stunned by the question but she’s correct so he nods flashing his eyes quickly down to Christina and back up to the stewardess.
“Thank you for this. Very kind of you.”
“I’ll try to get more for your handsome friends in front.” She winks.
“Thank you. The sleeping giant in particular, really likes red wine.” He grins.