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Olivia turned on the tv and sat back to lose herself in a little mindless entertainment while she waited for Alex's plane to land. The genius who'd thought to instal pay-per-view televisions in airport arrivals lounges had obviously been at the mercy of New York's air traffic controllers a time or two themselves. The delays and excuses that had crackled over the loud speakers seem to be effecting every airline and destination. The number of planes currently circling the airport numbered in the hundreds, or at least that's how it seemed to Olivia after an hour of waiting.
"Guys, where are we?"
Olivia smiled at the image on the screen, as she settled down to re-watch the Lost finale, and perhaps work out exactly what the hell was going on with that island. As the scenes shifted she began to relax and enjoy the show, until the mention of fuselage reminded her of one vital aspect of the show. It started with a plane crash.
Sitting up straight, Olivia surveyed the surrounding monitors for any sign of trouble, although she was uncertain what the code name for 'plane crashing out of control into the sea' was that week. Somewhat assured that nothing was amiss, or that the lazing security guard at the Quantas counter was an Oscar hopeful, she relaxed back into her seat.
Kate, Charlie and the rest were still rushing around the island, but somehow Olivia had lost her interest.
Changing channels she was greeted with Diane Keaton's smiling face and eclectic wardrobe, although she did have to admire the woman's leather jacket. The film was obviously halfway over but she soon managed to pick up the thread; namely that Amelia, Keaton, was scheduled to do, something, she was a little vague on that point, but that her husband was uncertain. She would have preferred The First Wives Club but it would do until Alex arrived.
Five minutes later Amelia donned flying goggles and climbed up into the cockpit of her plane, and a dead weight settled in Olivia's stomach. "Amelia Earhart? You've got to be kidding me!" she mumbled, before clicking to the next channel.
As the advert played out, Olivia took another opportunity to scan her surroundings. The place was crowded, and tensions running high, as groups of strangers awaited their loved ones and unintentionally got on each other's nerves. But no rushing security guards, no flashing lights outside the windows and no weeping civilians.
By the time the adverts had finished Olivia had almost convinced herself that everything was fine. Alex would step off the plane a little ruffled and grouchy, but otherwise no worse the wear, and within minutes she'd be lecturing the detective on her handling of the Morrison warrant. Business as usual.
Airport 77 flashed across the screen and before Olivia had time to react a jet liner crashed into the sea.
"No friggin' way!"
Olivia began to pace, the television left to torment someone else with its visions of death and destruction. With each step she tried to convince herself that she was overreacting. Alex wasn't in any danger. Flying was the safest way to travel. She would be fine. Fine.
It wasn't working.
Striding towards the lazing guard, Olivia gave him the kind of look she usually reserved for suspects. "What are you doing?"
The man straightened up, his puffy eyes and sour expression matched by slumped shoulders and a yellow stain on his tie. "Ma'am?"
"That's Detective," Olivia snarled, quickly flashing him her badge.
The man was less than impressed. "So what can I do for you Detective?"
"How about your job?" Olivia pointed towards his walkie-talkie. "What's happened to flight UA1750 from Pittsburgh?"
He looked towards the monitor before shrugging out his answer, "It's delayed."
"I know that asswipe. Why is it delayed?"
Again the shrug.
The man was far too nonchalant; he was bound to be guilty of something. If that something was putting Alex in danger Olivia swore that she'd rip out his heart with a blunt spoon and feed it to...
...Munch's pet sewer rat.
Olivia started, her thoughts of dismemberment dissipating in light of the bemused smile that adorned Alex's face. "Alex!"
Alex was a little taken aback by Olivia's sudden embrace, but as the hug continued she began to really panic. "Olivia, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Olivia mumbled, her face buried in Alex's hair.
Slowly Alex allowed herself to relax into the hug. The feel of Olivia's arms around her both foreign and welcome. But the feel of soft lips ghosting a kiss along her neck was more than she could take. "Olivia, what the hell is going on?" she demanded, breaking the embrace.
"I..." Olivia stuffed her hands in her pockets, afraid that they'd betray her better judgement and reach for the blonde. "I'm happy to see you."
"Happy?" Alex looked sceptical. "So no-one's dead? On life support? Facing an Internal Affairs inquiry?"
"No, no and no," Olivia shrugged, "can't I just be happy to see you?"
Alex reached up to trace the path of Olivia's kiss. "Just happy?"
Olivia refused to blush. Okay, so she might have gone overboard on the welcome home, but that didn't mean she was ready to bare her soul. "We should be going."
Alex smirked. "No so fast." Stepping closer, she rested her hands on Olivia's lapels, before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "It's good to be home."
Olivia was left, mouth agape, staring after Alex's retreating form.
"Hey, wait up!"
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