"What do you mean there are no tickets?" Twenty-six year old Whitney Stanford asked, looking across the ticket counter.  "This is an airport, right?  You have planes sitting out there on the tarmac, right?" She continued, not giving the poor guy behind the counter a chance to answer.  "There are seats on those planes, right?  I need a ticket.  To L.A.  Today.  And I need you," she said, pointing at the guy.  "To find me one."

"I know you're upset, ma'am." The guy answered her in a calm tone.  "And I assure you, we are doing everything we can to make sure that everyone gets out of town and on to their destinations but there are a lot of people in line in front of you." 

Whitney groaned as the guy hit a few keys on his keyboard.  She folded her arms on top of the counter and laid her head down.  This day just kept getting better and better.  She couldn't believe everything that had happened the last six hours.  "Look," she said, raising her head and meeting the ticket agent's brown eyes.  She took a deep breath and attempted to remain calm.  "I know things are...ridiculous around here right now." She told him.  "Do you think I don't know what's been going on?  I wouldn't be here unless it was an emergency.  I wouldn't have spent the last two hours," she continued, her voice rising--giving in to her fear and frustration once again.  "In a cab that smelled like stale beer and old sweaty gym socks trying to get here unless it was extremely important that I get on an airplane today and get to L.A.!  I have to get on a plane.  There has to be a ticket somewhere.  I don't care what airline it's on.  I don't care how many stops I have to make.  I have to get to L.A.!"

"Ma'am," the ticket agent began, his voice calm and controlled.  Whitney knew what he was trying to do.  She had spent enough years working retail and customer service to recognize the techniques.  He was trying to calm her down--to diffuse her anger.  "I understand that you're upset.  I assure you we are doing everything we can--"

Whitney cut off his repeat of what he had told her earlier by slamming her hands on the counter.  "Find me a ticket." She ground out through clenched teeth.  "All I need is one ticket." She said, taking several deep breaths.  "Please."

The ticket agent looked at her for a moment then looked down at the computer screen hidden behind the counter.  He tapped away at the keys for a few moments, Whitney's control of her emotions growing slimmer by the second.  She jammed the fingers of one hand through her hair as she blew out a breath.  She caught some movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head slightly.  Taking in the chaos around her, Whitney closed her eyes and sent a silent plea heavenward.  She was tired, hungry, and on the verge of a full-blown meltdown.  She hadn't gotten home from work until almost three this morning--the cleanup from the event she had been serving at had taken longer than usual--and she had been woken up, not three hours later, by her cell phone ringing.  Usually, she turned the ringer off when she went to bed but she had been so exhausted by the time she'd gotten home that all she had managed to do was peel off her serving uniform, slip into her favorite pair of sweats and her NYU hoodie, and crawl under the covers.  She had been pissed at first, being woken up after so little time asleep, but the anger had quickly given way when the caller identified himself and his purpose for waking her.  What had happened next was an hour of frantic packing and the longest--and most nauseating--two hour cab ride of her life, all culminating in her being here now.  At this ticket counter at JFK.  Just one more stranded passenger. 

The snow that had begun falling yesterday as she had left her apartment to go to work, and had continued steadily as the party her company was catering had gone on into the night. By the time they had gotten everything cleaned up and had been given the go-ahead to clock out, there was a good foot of snow on the ground-a fact that had surprised everyone.  The weather report was calling for the storm to worsen over the next couple hours, several more feet of snow predicted.  Though she wasn't a native New Yorker, Whitney was used to the snow.  She'd lived in New England her whole life.  She knew how bad winter storms could get but she hadn't been worried.  Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.  She had no plans until she had to be at work again at nine for the next party she was helping to serve at. 

A lot of the other waiters had asked for the night off, for their own Christmas Eve celebrations.  The owners of the catering company she worked for understood and didn't require anyone to work on Christmas Eve.  They did, however, offer double over-time pay for those who were willing to work that night.  Whitney eagerly put her name down on the list.  She had no plans and needed the money.  The last two weeks of the year were always her chance to make the majority of the money she needed to get her through winter semester until summer vacation. 

That had now all changed, however. 

The phone call Whitney had received three hours ago from that doctor in Los Angeles had changed her Christmas--and most likely New Year's--plans.  Now she was stuck at JFK, with a million other people, trying to get an impossible flight out of town.  Yesterday's snowstorm had indeed worsened as the weather report had predicted, the heavy snow fall shutting down the busy international airport for several hours.  TSA had finally given the airport approval to begin clearing flights an hour ago and everyone was clamoring for a seat.  Whitney understood there had been people stranded at the airport since last night when flights had begun to be delayed.  She understood that she was at the bottom of the list when it came to waiting in line for a flight out but she had to get out.  Surely, her plight trumped those who were just trying to get out of town to go on vacation.  Right?

"It looks like..."

The ticket agent's voice cut through Whitney's thoughts and she looked at him.  He tapped a few more keys, a pregnant silence hanging between them then looked up at her.  "It looks like there is an open first class seat on a United flight that leaves in..." a few more taps on his keyboard.  "An hour." 

"Okay." She replied, waiting for him to continue.  But he didn't.  Instead his brown eyes met hers again, waiting for her to say yea or nay.  "How much?" She asked, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and wincing slightly--praying the answer he gave was less than the amount she currently had in her checking account.

"Twenty-six eighty-four." He answered. "With tax."

Whitney choked.

"Excuse me?" She sputtered in exasperation.

"Twenty-six eighty--"

"Twenty-seven hundred dollars?!" Whitney exclaimed.  "Twenty-seven hundred dollars for a single ticket?!  Where am I supposed to get twenty-seven hundred dollars?  I don't..." she let out a growl of frustration.  "I'm a student!"  She yelled.  "I don't have twenty-seven hundred dollars to spend on a plane ticket.  Who the hell do I have to sleep with around here to get a damn ticket to L.A.?"

As if on cue, like this was a movie or something, a masculine hand holding a slick, black, credit card appeared in front of her.  "If you have two tickets available on that flight," a smooth voice said.  "You can have my card right now." 

The ticket agent's eyes looked between Whitney, the man now standing beside her, and the credit card being offered him.  Whitney's eyes traveled up the arm that was incased in the sleeve of a dark grey wool coat attached to that hand, her head turning as her gaze continued to travel up--finally meeting the blue eyes of the man next to her.  Although the collar of his coat was popped up and a black baseball cap was pulled down low over his eyes, her jaw dropped as recognition washed over her and she stared at him, speechless.  This was no stranger.  

Whitney heard a few more taps on the keyboard.  "There is another seat available." The agent said.  "Do you want the seats?" He asked tentatively, hesitant to accept the credit card being offered him because of Whitney's reaction to this man's sudden appearance and offer to pay.    

"Yes." The one and only JC Chasez said, extending the credit card further toward the ticket agent.

"No!" Whitney exclaimed, reaching out to stop the transaction.  She put her hand on JC's arm.  "What...wait." She shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts.  This was too much to process; to take in.  "What are you doing?" She asked, looking at the former-boyband-member-now-music-producer-and-reality-dance-show-judge. 

"I'm buying you a ticket to L.A." He told her matter-of-factly. 

"No, you're not!" She replied.  "What...why would you..." How was this happening?  Whitney looked around, feeling for sure she was dreaming.  Or being Punk'd or something.  Where was Ashton?  He could be hiding anywhere with how crowded and chaotic the terminal was right now...

"You need a ticket." JC said, his matter-of-fact tone continuing as he finally succeeded in handing his credit card over to the ticket agent.  The agent took it, gave Whitney a questioning glance, then went about booking the tickets.  "It's apparent that it's extremely important for you to get to L.A.--beyond the obvious excuse of it being Christmas."  Whitney stood there looking at him, unable to find her voice as he continued talking.  "I don't know what the reason is, but I want to help."  He said. 

"B-but..." Whitney stuttered.  "Why?"

He shrugged.  "Because it's Christmas." He said, finally giving her that knee-melting grin of his. 

Whitney felt a tingly, quiver in her stomach and had to force herself to take a step away from him.  Not a big step, but a step nonetheless.  She had to put some space between them in order to attempt to think clearly without being distracted by his adorable smile, incredible eyes, or the intoxicating scent of his aftershave now surrounding her.  She swallowed and cleared her throat.  "Thank you." She said, though those two words seemed woefully inadequate in response to his generous act of kindness.  "I don't...thank you." 

"You're welcome." He replied, a hint of a mischievous sparkle appearing in those dark blue eyes of his that made her suspicious.  "We'll discuss your..." he cocked his head to the side slightly as teasing smirk sliding across his face.  "...sleeping arrangements later."  He finished with a wink.  Whitney gasped and JC chuckled.  "I'm kidding." He said as the ticket agent asked them both for their ID then handed him back his credit card.

"Thank you, Mr. Chasez." The agent said, stapling a few pieces of paper together.  "I've got your tickets booked and you two are all set and ready to go." He said, giving them both a smile as he held out two boarding passes.  "Your flight is departing from C5.  Merry Christmas."

~~~~~~~   

Getting through security hadn't always been such a pain.  JC had spent more than half his life in and out of airports.  During NSYNC's heyday, JC had felt at times that he lived at the airport.  He had been in and out of so many--nationally and internationally--they had almost begun to feel as comfortable as his own house.  Almost.  After 9/11 lines had lengthened and tempers had gotten shorter.  JFK was usually a very stream-lined airport and getting through security only took a few minutes.  Today however, was different.  Only one line was open because of a shortage in TSA employees due to the weather.  Add to that an airport full of stranded travelers on Christmas Eve and the death glares being thrown his way as he stood in line holding a coveted boarding pass, and JC was reminded about why he didn't like to travel at this time of year.  Unfortunately, he had had no control over when Matt's album release party had been planned.  Who the hell planned a release party two days before Christmas?! 

The line moved, the other travelers lucky enough to get tickets moving forward.  He became separated from his unexpected traveling companion and felt a sense of anxiety as she moved ahead of him a few people in line.  She made it up to the checkpoint and he watched as she put her duffle bag into one of the plastic bins and unbuttoned the long, black, belted, woolen coast she was wearing.  She took off her shoes, putting them into another bin, as JC finally made it to the checkpoint as well.  He pulled his messenger bag over his head, placing it in a tub--his coat and shoes quickly following--as he kept an eye on her.  She stepped through the detectors then over to wait for her things to come through the x-ray machine.  JC moved to follow after her but was stopped as the TSA agent standing by the detector held his arm out, barring JC's way. 

"Please remove your hat, sir." The security agent said. 

"What?" JC asked, looking up at the man uncomprehendingly.  He looked through to where the girl he had helped was putting on her shoes and coat again. 

"Your hat." The TSA agent repeated, drawing JC's attention back to him.  "You need to take it off."

"Oh." JC said, quickly removing the hat and tossing it in the tub with his coat, shoes, and messenger bag.  "Sorry."  He apologized.  The TSA agent stepped out of the way, allowing JC to walk through the detector.  He stepped through, holding his breath for a moment.  It was silly, he knew, but there was always that split second of wondering if the detector was going to go off.  He wasn't wearing any metal, but he knew they were programmed to randomly go off to check passengers periodically.  Having to get a pat-down wasn't what he needed right now.

Nothing happened as he made it through the machine and he released the breath he had been holding as he moved over to where his stuff was.  Shoving his feet into his shoes, jamming the hat back on his head, and grabbing his coat and bag from the tub, JC turned to follow after the woman with the long, brown hair.  He pulled up short, however, when he found her standing off to the side--out of the way of the other travelers going through the checkpoint and apparently waiting for him.  She gave him a tentative smile, both her hands gripping the shoulder strap of her duffle bag tightly as it hung at her side. 

"You didn't have to wait for me." He said, even though he was glad she had.  He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to get to know this girl.  Something about her drew him in and no matter how he tried to fight it, he needed to be close to her. 

"Of course I did." She replied.  "How rude would that have been?  To just run off after what you did for me."  She shook her head and gave him a look like he was crazy. 

"Well," he smiled--a warm feeling spreading through his chest.  "You wouldn't have been able to run too far." He said as he set his bag down on the ground by his feet.  "We're sitting right next to each other." He said, reminding her.

"And that wouldn't have been awkward at all." She chuckled and he laughed with her.  "I'm Whitney, by the way." She said, releasing her hold on her duffle bag and extending a hand out to him. 

"JC." He said, his smile growing as he took her hand in his. 

"Yeah." She replied with a knowing grin.  "I know who you are.  I figured you should know who I was." She continued as he released her hand.  He watched as she lifted that hand to tuck some hair behind her ear.  "Since you just rescued me and all."

He shrugged as he reached down, picked up his bag, and put it over his head-the strap resting across his chest.  "It was nothing.  Happy to do it."  He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "It's not often a guy gets to rescue a damsel in distress these days."

Whitney's cheeks warmed slightly and she looked down at her feet.  "Thank you." She said, the sincerity of her words shinning in her eyes as she looked back up at him.  "I honestly wasn't sure what I was going to do." She told him.  "When he told me how much it was going to be for a ticket..." she trailed off for a second as she shook her head.  "I thought I was going to faint."

JC laughed.  "I thought you were going to jump over the counter and tear that poor guy's throat out." He teased.  Whitney groaned as she lowered her head--covering her face with her hands.  "I was really just doing it to save that ticket agent's life." He continued. 

"I'm so embarrassed you saw me acting like that." She said, lifting her head and lowering her hands as she looked at him.  "I don't normally explode like that."  She assured him.  "I've just..." she sighed, shaking her head slightly.  "It's...it's been a rough morning."

"Well," JC said with a smile as they began walking down the concourse toward their gate.  "It's Christmas Eve.  That should help.  And you're on your way to sunny L.A."

"Yeah..." Whitney nodded.  "I just wish it was under better circumstances." She mumbled under her breath. 

"What was that?" He asked, looking over at her. 

"Nothing." Whitney shook her head and silence fell between them.  They were almost to their assigned gate when she stopped suddenly.  JC was a few steps past her before he registered the fact she was no longer beside him.  He stopped and turned around, searching for her.  "Do you want some coffee?" She asked, pointing at the Starbuck's that was miraculously open.  JC had noticed, as they had been walking, that very few of the stores and restaurants in the terminal were open due--he assumed--like everything else, to the weather.  He wondered if the employees that had worked yesterday had been forced to remain at the airport overnight because of the snowstorm. 

A few of them looked like it and he felt a pang of sympathy for them.

"Uh..." JC paused.  "Sure." He said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. 

"My treat." She said, noticing what he was doing, then walked toward the counter.

"Thank you." He said.

"You're welcome." She replied, with a smile over her shoulder at him.  "It's the least I can do.  Can I get a Grande White Chocolate Mocha?" She asked the guy behind the counter.  The guy nodded at her as he picked up a cup and wrote the order on the familiar paper container.  "What do you want?" Whitney asked JC, looking over at him. 

"I'll just get what you're having.  That sounds good." He said as he turned and leaned back against the counter--watching as people walked up and down the concourse in front of him. 

"Make that two." Whitney told the barista.  The order was rung up and she paid for their drinks.  JC listened to the sounds of the coffee being prepared, his eyes turning from the other passengers filling the airport to the woman standing beside him--his mind wandering back to the night before.

JC looked around the crowded room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds.  He'd been to numerous release parties over the last twelve years--his and others'.  Each of them was basically the same.  A DJ keeping a steady dance beat going, a bartender keeping the alcohol flowing, and a crowd of people all wanting to have a good time.  The snow that had begun falling a few hours ago outside added to the festive atmosphere inside and everyone was in a celebratory mood.

Lifting his drink to his lips, his eyes once again scanned the crowd--stopping when he saw her.  He didn't know what had made him notice her before, but he had spotted the waitress soon after he'd arrived an hour ago.  She was pretty.  Her long brown hair hung down her back in a simple ponytail, swishing slightly from side to side as she moved around the room doing her job.  The room was full of waiters and waitresses from the catering company the record label had hired for the evening, but there was something about this particular girl that caught his eye and made him want to take a closer look. 

Her assigned area seemed to be on the opposite side of the room from where he was currently standing.  Throwing back the rest of his scotch, JC began making his way slowly through the crowd to where she was.  He was stopped several times by different people as he went, each wanting to say hi and talk.  He stopped and talked with each one of them but his eyes never left the waitress on the far side of the room.  He didn't want her to disappear.  It was crazy.  He'd never felt this strong pull to meet a complete stranger before.  He was almost to her when he was stopped again, this time with a hand on his shoulder. 

"JC!  Thanks for coming, man!"

He turned to look at the man beside him-the reason he was here tonight.  JC smiled as he returned the guy's hug.  "You're welcome." He replied.  "Congratulations!" He said.  JC looked over Matt's shoulder to where the waitress had been but she was gone.  He felt a stab of disappointment, but quickly pushed it away and focused his attention on his friend-the man of the hour-and tried to remind himself why he was there; why he had flown cross-country two days before Christmas to be here.  He was here to help his friend celebrate the release of his first album, not chase after attractive waitresses...

"Are you okay?"

JC was snapped out of his thoughts by Whitney's inquiry.  He straightened as he turned, focusing his attention on her.  She gave him a questioning look as she held out one of the two coffee cups she was holding to him. 

"Yeah." He said, taking the drink from her.  "I'm great." He smiled as he brought the coffee to his lips, watching her over the top of the lid as she did the same.  Whitney closed her eyes as she wrapped both hands around her cup and took a sip.  Swallowing, she released a happy sigh as she opened her blue eyes and looked at him.  She smiled at him and JC found himself smiling in return.  They began walking again, continuing on their way to their gate. 

"So," Whitney began, and JC looked over at her as they walked.  "At the risk of sounding like a crazy stalker, or something, why are you flying to L.A. on Christmas Eve?" She asked, adjusting the strap of her duffle bag higher on her shoulder and taking another sip of her coffee.  "I figured you'd be flying to Maryland or Florida to be with your family for the holiday."

JC chuckled.  "My parents decided they wanted to go on a cruise for Christmas this year and Heather and Tyler went with them."

Whitney looked at him in surprise, one delicate eyebrow rising.  "Why are you here in New York when you could be on a cruise right now?" She questioned as they reached their gate.  They found a bank of empty chairs and sat down to wait until their flight was called.

"Duty called." He replied with a sigh and a shrug of his shoulder.  Whitney looked at him in question as he took a sip of his coffee.  "I had a release party last night I had to go to." He explained, watching her closely to see if that sparked any kind of recognition for her. 

"Who decided to schedule a release party two days before Christmas?" She asked, watching him over the top of her coffee cup as she took a few sips.

"That's what I said!" He replied with a laugh.  "But," he shrugged.  "That's sometimes the downside to my career.  I've missed a lot of family trips over the years." He admitted.

"I'm sorry." She said in sympathy. 

"It's okay." He replied.  "You get used to it.  Although, I have to say I'm not nearly as disappointed about being here in New York instead of in the Caribbean as I was yesterday." He grinned at her and she smiled, her eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks became tinged with pink.

"So, you're just going home to be alone on Christmas?" She asked, looking back up at him after a moment. 

"Yeah." He said with a shrug and a nod of his head.  "But it's okay.  I'll see them when they get back next week.  What about you?" He asked.  "Do you have family in L.A.?" He stopped as Whitney looked away from him again.  He sensed her discomfort at the subject and was reminded of her emotional display at the ticket counter earlier.  Whatever her reason for needing to get to L.A. it was a very personal one and if anyone understood about the want and need to keep certain things private, it was JC.  Though he had spent the majority of his life in the public eye he had tried his hardest to keep as much of his personal life as he could to himself.  It was the only way he could keep his sanity.  "Forget I asked." He said, wanting to put her at ease.  "I didn't mean to pry.  Your reasons for needing to get to L.A. are your own."

"No." Whitney said giving him a small smile.  "It's okay.  You just spent twenty-seven hundred dollars on me.  I think I owe you an explanation as to why it's so important that I get to California."

JC sat, watching her closely--waiting for her to continue. 

She took a deep breath.  "My brother's in a coma." She told him and JC looked at her in surprise.  Whatever her reason for needing to get to L.A. that hadn't been what he was expecting.  His jaw dropped a little.  "He lives in L.A." She continued.  "I, uh...I got the call a couple hours ago."

"Whitney, I..." JC hesitated.  He didn't know what to say.  What was he supposed to say to that? 

She nodded and forced a smile.  He thought he caught a slight quiver in her bottom lip before she swallowed and turned away from him.  She sniffed and took a sip of her coffee, trying to cover her emotions. 

"United flight 824 with service to Los Angeles is now boarding at gate C5."

The call came over the sound system and the people sitting around them began to rise.  Gathering up their things they began forming a line--anxious and more than ready to get on with their holiday travel plans.  Whitney did the same but JC remained seated, still shocked at what she had told him and searching for the right words to say to her.  For a world-famous songwriter, being at a loss for words was a rare thing for him and a feeling he didn't enjoy.

"Are you coming?"

JC looked up to find Whitney smiling down at him.  "Yeah." He said, standing and joining her.  "Let's get out of here."