AN: welcome to the 27th episode of Greta! The only book in the world that has really cute moments and total relationship goals but really goes nowhere for a couple chapters in a row! I kid, I kid. BUT

CLARIFICATION: I did not forget about the present. I left it there for a reason. If ya'll need a refresher, I left James contemplating letting Sherlock win (in other words, hijack his own parachute and in other other words, commit suicide yaaaaaaaaaaaah *thumbs up* this is such a happy book ain't it?)

With out further ado....

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Greta POV-

James and I had some real heart-felt conversation on the plane ride to Texas. If you call talking about our favorite everything's heart-to-heart.

We annoyed the crap out of everyone in the plane passenger area because whenever we would agree to something our conversations would gradually get louder and louder. What can I say? We're very passionate people.

"Favorite Show?" James asked, snapping his fingers.

"Oh my gosh, where to start...Um. My number one is Doctor Who, obviously."

"Yeah, I know." He chuckled. "Do you have any other favorites?"

"Is that even a question?" I teased. "I live off television." Counting off my fingers, I answered his question with a great enthusiasm. No one ever really asked me these kind of things before. "Well, I also really like The Twilight Zone." At that point, I was wiggling my fingers in his face and trilled my voice to make it sound spooky. James gave a hearty laugh that made my stomach dance.

"Isn't that the old 70's show?"

"Yeah, that one! It's basically a 70's version of American Horror Story. Minus the horror."

He laughed again. "I see, I know which one your talking about. Even though I have no idea what American Horror Story is. Why don't they just call it 'Horror Story'? The only thing horrifying about America is their diabetes rates."

"Hey!" I shoved him, looking around the plane for anyone who heard. He continued to bust a gut. I giggled a little myself, after all, I'm a specialized agent in roasts, and that was a good one. "The other thing that should horrify you is the climbing standards of redneck, muzzle-loading, muskrat-killing, oven-roasted roadkill eating Nationalists."

That's when James and I had a pushing fight, if that's what it's called. I pushed him, he very gently pushed me back.

"What? You scared of me, James?" I taunted teasingly sticking my tongue out at him.

"No. I'm not afraid of anyone." He scrunched his nose up. I gave him a mischievous grin, and raised an eyebrow. James' expression changed. "Okay, maybe I'm a little scared of you."

I heard Lawrence (and Maurice who was waiting for us in the plane when we boarded) chuckle from their seats in front of us. Maurice turned back to look at the two of us, shoving each other around.

"Aw. Well, for cute!" She smiled, using her old-grandma language. We paused where we were with my arms pushing James away, and his grasp on my arms.

He gave me a look, and mouthed 'For cute?'. I chuckled and shook my head, letting go of James.

"Grandma, it's the 21st century, we don't use those ancient terms." I teased Maurice, who just laughed.

"Alright, alright. I guess you young'uns will have to teach me the groovy words you use." She joked back, turning around.

James and I chuckled a bit and returned to our conversation.

After a while, I noticed James kept looking over his shoulder and around the plane.

"What'cha doing there, James?" I teased. He gave me an uneasy smile.

"Oh, I just feel like someone's watching me. It's kind of creepy." James gave a once over one last time. I followed where his gaze lingered. To both of our dismay, someone was looking at him.

A stewardess with the face of a model and long, straight black hair was watching him intently. James' and I's eyes widened and we simultaneously  flipped back in our seats when we caught sight of the woman waving at him.

"Okay. What do I do?" He looked over at me, with worried eyes. I couldn't help it, I began to laugh so hard all that came out was wheezing.

"Really? Go talk to her!" I said it as if it were obvious.

"But I'm dating you!"

Whoops.

"I meant..." I frantically searched in my brain for a cover-up. "Tell her to quit looking at you!" I averted my gaze as he gave me one of those, 'are-you-freaking-kidding-me-you-just-forgot-we-were-dating' looks. I tend to act like I'm not jealous when I actually am, and I've done this a lot with some of my guy friends in High School.

Just a typical she-liked-him, he-liked-another-girl story. I gave him advice on how to get her to replace my jealousy. And I admit it, I was jealous of the woman who caught James' attention. But since he reminded me we were dating, I wasn't (as) jealous (she was still extremely pretty). "Now that you mention it, you know what I just realized?" I said, almost it's jumping out of my skin, suddenly changing the topic.

"What?" James replied, mocking my enthusiasm.

"We've been dating for what, three-"

"Four." He corrected, giving me the same scolding-mother look as before.

"Four months! And you've never seen my house. Well, inside my house I mean."

James gave me a curious look.

"That is true. I realize that now too."

"God, I feel so rude. Okay, when we get home from the Martin's I'll give you a tour and then I'll feel satisfied and then you can leave."

He gave me a weird look, and furrowed his eyebrows. "The Martin's?" He asked, not even mentioning the part when I told him to leave. Which I thought was pretty funny.

"Maurice? Lawrence? That's their last name."

James looked like he hit the gold mine and snapped his fingers repeatedly.

"I've been trying to figure out their last name for so long! That's what it is!"

"Yup! Maurice and Lawrence Martin. Only the boy and youngest girl are still Martin." I said, raising an eyebrow in thought. I tapped on Maurice's shoulder. "Hey, who is Juliet married to again?"

She turned around to face us.

"Tony Larson."

I nodded my head in remembrance.

"That's right! How could I forget? He fell through the roof two Christmases ago." I recalled. James' eyes averted to mine.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah! It was hilarious! We were in the middle of Christmas Dinner, he went to the bathroom and fell through the ceiling while washing his hands!"

"Oh, wow. That's some memories in the making right there."

"Hey, Maurice?" I asked, suddenly remembering about Juliet's oldest kid.

"Yes, Greta?"

"How old is Samuel now?"

"18 this April."

"God, I feel old." I replied, my upper lip curling. James laughed at my face.

"Oh, shush yourself. You know nothing of feeling old!" Maurice teased. James laughed even harder.

"Maurice has a point." He argued. I rolled my eyes at him, as he defended Maurice.

"Maurice always has a point," Lawrence interjected, suddenly turning around as well, "take it from someone who knows all too well!"

"Yeah. I was like ten years old when Juliet had lil' Sammy." I remembered. Juliet was one of the more successful teenage pregnancy. Of course, the father of Sam left, but then she met Tony and they had two kids of their own and are living happily ever after.

I suddenly felt my face contort as a shot of pain went through my body. "Hold up, I'll be right back." I grabbed hold of my purse and scooted over James, who moved his legs to let me out of the aisle with a worried look on his face. Honestly, my body couldn't have picked a worse week than this one. Out of every week in the month, Thanksgiving had to come on this one.

When I had reached the bathroom and successfully closed the door behind me, my nose scrunched up at the smell of stale girl farts and cheap raunchy soap. Public bathrooms weren't my favorite thing in the world.

Searching frantically in my bag for Ibuprofen and a woman's utility, I turned on the faucet to get myself a drink to swallow the pills.

More frantically, I threw all my purse materials on the ground. My cramps became more unbearable as I realized I had no Ibuprofen because they confiscated it at the check-in when I boarded. I sat, cramped on the toilet seat, and pressed my stomach to my thighs and quietly groaned.

"Just. Freaking. Great." I murmured to myself. At least it came on schedule.

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James POV-

I made way for Greta to get past so she could get across and go...wherever she was going. Sighing, I used my chance to look out the window, since Greta had the window seat.

What was wrong with her? She looked like she was in pain. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the thought of Greta being sick or in pain.

"Um, excuse me, sir? Do you need anything?" A bold, and fluttery voice asked. I whipped my head to face the Stewardess approaching me.

"Oh." I said, off-guard by the sudden hospitality. "No, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure." I said, a slight-tenseness in my voice. I had noticed it was the same woman watching me not so long ago with Greta. Why had she now approached us after Greta left?

"So...that girl?" She gave me a sly smile. "Is she special to you?"

"I don't know what you mean." I said, suspiciously. I was still confused.

"Like...special?"

"Yes...?" I said, again, a harshness made it seem more like a question.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Alright. If you need anything just let me know. The rest of the people here don't know what they're doing. And I'm pretty sure the blonde one's desperate. I'm sure you're not into that." With a wink and a swift hand-to-arm brush (that I just as swiftly pulled away from) she left.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the front so I was facing Maurice's seat.

"You the man, James." She whispered from her seat. My scowl was transformed into a smile.

"Oh, Maurice. You can make the best out of the darkest things."

"Aw, thanks, hun!" She cooed.

It was a couple more minutes and I began to worry about Greta. I had only a clue of where she ran off to, and the more time passed the more I began to think of all the things that could have gone wrong.

Some of the scenarios were a little far fetched, I will admit to that.

"Maurice?" I scooted closer to her seat.

"Yes, dear?"

"Could you do me a favor?" I asked with an uneasy smile.

"Yes, of course! What is it?"

"Could you check on Greta for me? I think she's in the bathroom."

Maurice chuckled.

"You guys are too cute. Of course I will." She patted me on the arm as I gave her a thankful smile.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I leaned back in my chair.

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Greta POV-

I don't know how long I was in the bathroom until someone knocked on the door.

"Greta?"

"Maurice?"

"Yes, hon. I'm coming on in, are you decent?"

"Yeah." I spurted out. The small door opened, revealing Maurice with a giddy kind of smile. "What?"

"James is worried about you." Her smile grew even bigger. "C'mon. I know you want to..." She urged, as I guilty grin broke out. "It's been four months. Almost half-a-year and you guys are closer than Jackson's girlfriend of six years."

It was true. Poor, shy Jackson has been dating the same girl for six years since High School ended. Which is odd because his parents are anything but shy.

"That's how you know." Maurice dragged on, fishing out a bottle of Aleve from her purse. I gasped and grabbed hold of it like it was the last chicken nugget on the planet. Which I could really go for at the moment.

"How did you-?"

"Pulled the whole 'old-lady' thing. Totally bought it."

"Oh, thank you-!" I went to go open it, but Maurice pulled it away from my grasp. "Ah- Maurice, what are you doing?" I whined.

"First, you gotta tell me if the two of you kissed yet." She teased. The guilty look I gave her answered her own question for you. "No. Four months. And you haven't even- Greta...you are so bad at the whole dating concept." Maurice scolded me like I was a teenager. My head hung low.

"I know, I know. I want to...I'm just really scared it's too early for all that. I want to take this whole...relationship or whatever seriously."

"Yes, I understand. You're first kiss is not really something that is planned. It's normally in the moment. Maybe the two of you already had your moment. You were probably holding hands and you looked deep into each others eyes and James went, 'Oh, Greta. You're eyes are the size of the moon tonight.' and you being you would most likely ruin the moment with a smart comment like, 'Oh, wouldn't that be painful'." She joked around, giving me the bottle once again. When she saw my face again, she pulled it back away and I groaned again. "Oh my God. You've already done that haven't you."

I just blinked at her, and tucked in the corners of my lips.

"No...?"

"Greta. You realize you could of had your first kiss months ago. You first date! I thought you kissed him then! You did that whole, 'Waaaait thee love, do not say farewell without thy blessing to thee lips' thing."

"Well, I did. Kind of." I shifted my eyes side to side. "Can I just have some Aleve?"

"Fine. But you are awful at being a girl. Most of them dream about kissing their boyfriends as cute as James is, but you? You're scared of it. Why?" Maurice handed me the bottle, officially.

"It's not him, that's for sure. He's the best thing to happen to me."

"But...?"

"There is no but. I'm just scared, that's all."

"Of James?"

"No! Of course not."

"Of commitment?"

"No...well, yes. Kind of."

"That's strange to hear from you. Normally the man is afraid of commitment."

"It's not like that at all. It's just...everyone I've ever gotten close to, has gone away." I lowered my head in shame. It was true. My parents died, my friends had died, Alexis Liledelchi died. How could I let myself get that close to James if I knew he'd most likely end up like the others.

Maurice crouched down to my height from where I was still sitting on the toilet.

"I'm here, aren't I? Lawrence, Juliet, Jane, Jackson? We're still here. We love you like our own. Because you are. This is the family you have, and we aren't gonna leave whether you like it or not. You are a Martin, too. Not just a Levine."

Her little speech brought a tear to my eye. It was just nice to hear confirmation that I was loved by a family that had been with me through so much junk.

"And hopefully a Moriarty in few years." Maurice added, making me laugh through my tears. Maurice laughed too, wiping the tear away that fell onto my cheek.

"Stupid woman-ness, making me emotional." I fought back, sniffing the rest of my tears away. "Okay." Nodding my head, I stood up from the toilet.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm not scared anymore." I lied, smiling reassuringly at Maurice who gave me a grateful grin back.

"Good. Now let's get back to our men. Well, you men. I'm not so sure about Lawrence." She teased, placing a hand on my arm and leading me out the bathroom, and grabbing both our purses. As we neared our seats, James whipped his head back and grinned widely.

"You're back! Are you alright now? You didn't look so good when you rushed off away from me. Did I smell bad? Be honest with me now."

I laughed, and shook my head. I had a foreboding feeling that he will always cheer me up with self-demeaning jokes about himself.

"No, you smell fine. Actually," I bent down as Maurice shuffled around me to her spot and sniffed his jacket, "Is that Calvin Klein? Where in the world did you get that?"

He snickered a bit and nodded his head.

"Yes it is. I stole some from the hotel I stayed at the first time I came to Utah."

"Good move. It really suits you."

"Hello passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We are taking a refueling stop right now, so if you will wait in the next airport we land, we will get back on flight schedule as normal." The pilot's voice rang through the intercom. I made my way back to my seat, as at that point I was still in the aisle of the airplane.

"That doesn't sound like refueling." James whispered in my ear once I sat down. I nodded my head in agreement.

"We might be at that airport for a while."

And as we both looked out my the window, the familiar scent of oil and smoke filled our senses.

Little did we know about what was to come.

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AN: Okay, so this chapter isn't my favorite, but I'm always proud of my work none-the-less. I worked on it the entire day and got a good 2,500 words for y'all. I just wanna thank everyone reading this again, so much has gone and we are almost at 1k views.

Thank you so much, really every little vote and comment makes my day.

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