Chapter Text
The first time Elena Cassidy ran into John Reese wasn't in New York's Queensbridge Park.
It was at an airport terminal in 2006. She just didn't know it.
She had been racing to catch her flight to Mexico. Her roommate had gotten it in her head to go on a getaway in the middle of the spring term, and Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes had allowed herself to be convinced to hop on the next flight out of JFK.
But logistics had never been her roommate's forte, so here they are, racing across the terminal, in order to make their flight.
"I'm never letting you talk me into doing something like this ever again," Elena swears as she makes a beeline for their gate. "Of all the stupid things you've convinced me to do — oh!"
She runs headfirst into something tall, dark, and unyielding. Her carry-on falls to the floor with an echoing thud, and she almost does as well, except the tall, dark, unyielding thing has arms that steady her.
"Careful," he cautions. "Are you all right?"
Elena pushes her hair out of the way and looks up. And up. Up the front of a gray suit to meet a pair of blue eyes that complement the grey-blue button-down shirt that her face had inelegantly been smushed against a moment ago.
"I ... yes," she answers, realizing he'd asked her a question. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you all right?"
He almost looks taken aback by the question. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "I'm fine," he assures her. He picks up her carry-on and hands it back to her. He glances over his shoulder at her companion, who's impatiently waving her toward their gate. "It looks like you have a flight to catch?"
"Oh! Yes, thank you. Sorry again for running into you!"
"Don't worry about it. Have a nice trip."
"You too!"
She gives him a bright smile over her shoulder as she hurries after her companion, and he finds himself watching her progress across the terminal, brown waves bouncing with each step as she jogs to join her friend.
"Sir, your coffee?"
He blinks, having forgotten he's at the counter of a coffee stand. He picks up the mug the barista sets down in front of him and begins to look over the headlines of the paper left on the counter by another traveler.
"Last call for Flight 1923 to Mexico."
He looks up and sees the wavy-haired brunette handing her ticket to the attendant at the gate. She gives him another brilliant smile and a small wave before she disappears into the passenger bridge.
He smiles to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee and manages not to grimace at the bland taste as he turns back to the newspaper.
"John."
He looks up in surprise at the woman standing next to him.
"I didn't know you were back from over there," she continues.
He finally finds his voice.
"Jessica."