The plane continued to climb for what felt like an inordinately long time to MJ. She tried to relax, and focus on the fact that she was sitting next to one of her idols, and one of the most beautiful examples of humanity on the planet, but it was so hard when she kept feeling herself pulled backward in her seat by gravity, and when she could see the water in her water bottle sloshing at unnatural angles as it sat in front of her.

She knew that Heath had to be aware of her discomfort, especially when her glance kept getting pulled toward the frightening view out the window.

"Don't you think?" he asked.

"What?" she responded. She had no idea what he'd asked her. She could feel the sweat running down her back, and she really wanted to go to the bathroom to wash her face and re-apply the deodorant she had in her bag, but that would require her to somehow climb over Heath, and there was no way she was going to do that. Between her concern over her hyperhidrosis and the plane's imminent rapid descent into the Pacific, her head was spinning.

"I asked if you thought these seats were built for a child's bum?" he repeated with a smile.

MJ smiled at his words and his accent. She remembered that Heath was the "posh" member of his former band, and that he'd attended Harrow, a very expensive and exclusive school in London.

"I mean, they're quite small, aren't they?" he continued.

"Well, I'm sure yours fits, but mine--" MJ said in a self-deprecating voice, letting the sentence dangle.

Heath just gave her a look before glancing away. He looked back after a moment, took a deep breath, and said, "So--Meadow Rain." He raised his eyebrows at her.

MJ just nodded.

Heath continued to look at her expectantly. "Tell me how that name came to be attached to the surname of--erm--Javelin-opolous?"

Normally, MJ didn't laugh out loud around others if she could help it. She knew she was loud, and she knew her teeth showed, and she didn't like to bray like a donkey in front of people.

But she couldn't help it this time.

"Javelinopolous?" she repeated, her fear of the plane plummeting into the ocean forgotten for the moment. She dissolved into laughter, unable to even draw breath.

"Am I close?" Heath asked hopefully.

MJ shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Well, at least I got you to stop looking out the window like we were going to die at any moment, so I'll count that as a win," he said, putting a hand on MJ's shoulder.

She nodded agreement, able to breathe at last.

"See? We're leveling off, so relax," he reassured her.

"So? Your name?" he reminded her.

"Right," she agreed, nodding, wiping her eyes once more, acutely aware of his hand on her shoulder.

"My mother was from your neck of the woods, actually," she said, smiling. "She was from County Clare in Ireland, and after she moved to Los Angeles, she missed the green hills and cool weather, you know? So she named me after her favorite places and things in Ireland, that's all."

MJ smiled. "She died when I was only four, so I don't remember much about her," she went on, and she could feel Heath's hand tighten on her shoulder.

"Oh god, MJ, I'm so sorry! I had no idea--I didn't mean to remind you of sad things, honestly--" he looked into her eyes, sorrow and contrition in his dark blue gaze.

MJ shook her head. "It's really okay, it is," she assured him. "It's not like she was sick and she suffered or anything. She was in a car accident, it was over in seconds. I only have really good memories of her.

"She was so beautiful, you know?" MJ's smile grew. "She looked like a doll. Her hair was gold--not even blonde, but like actual gold--that's how I remember it, anyway, and her eyes were green, like the color of the ocean? Really really clear? And she used to play the piano and the guitar, and she'd sing to me, and her voice was so pretty--" she broke off, embarrassed. "Sorry," she murmured. "I get carried away sometimes.

"Oh no, don't apologize," Heath responded, nodding energetically. "Those are wonderful memories, sounds like your mum was absolutely marvelous, and simply gorgeous." He took his hand off MJ's shoulder, and she missed its warmth.

"I'm going to close my eyes for a bit, I guess," Heath said, leaning back into his seat. MJ noticed he hadn't moved back into the aisle seat, but rather had stayed in the seat next to her.

While he was sleeping, MJ took out her notebook and worked on her music, which always calmed her. As usual, when she wrote, everything around her fell away, and she was even able to forget the scary plane, and the fact that she was somehow defying gravity and floating thirty thousand feet above the surface of the earth.

"You forgot the sharp," Heath said from next to her.

MJ jumped, slamming her notebook closed. Her pencil flew from her hand, landing in the aisle.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said with a smile. His voice was raspy with sleep. He leaned out, retrieved her pencil, and handed it to her, business end first.

"You need to be careful with that," he admonished. "Don't want to put someone's eye out."

He opened the notebook she'd closed, found the correct page, and pointed.

"Like I was saying, you're in G major, and you forgot that F is sharp here," he said.

MJ looked. "Oh. Right, thanks," she said, making the notation. She again attempted to close the book, but Heath kept his hand on the page, holding it open.

"Calliope's Lament," he read from the top of the page. He looked over at MJ's face, and she could feel herself starting to get warm. "You always write music freehand? Lyrics, notes, chords, and all?"

MJ shook her head. "I use an app, and software. But my laptop's in my bag." She gestured to the overhead bin.

"Why didn't you just get it down?" he asked. "You have loads of time."

MJ shrugged. "You were sleeping," she said, rolling her eyes a little.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

MJ nodded, shrugging again.

"Oh no, oh no, please, I'm sorry, don't be embarrassed," Heath begged, putting a hand on her shoulder yet again. "Shit." He took a deep breath. "Thank you, MJ, for being so thoughtful, so conscientious." He gave a little nod. "it was very kind of you."

MJ gave a little nod. "You're welcome," she murmured, looking somewhere over his head. She knew she was turning all kinds of blotchy colors. She wanted to melt into the floor.

"You want me to get your laptop down now?" Heath offered.

"It's okay, I can get it," MJ replied.

"Please, I'm a gentleman, I'll get it," he replied with a gallant smile.

Somehow his words made the situation okay again, and he retrieved her bag for her and watched while she unzipped it and took her laptop out. He slid the bag back into the overhead bin and snapped it shut again, taking his seat with a grin.

"Why didn't you tell me you're musical?" he asked.

"When did I even have a chance?" MJ retorted. "When Meredith was having her meltdown over her seat assignment, or when I was sure the plane was going to crash? Or when we were talking about names or when you fell asleep?"

Heath considered for a moment.

"Touché," he said with a smile. "Now show me that song again, please, it looked really interesting."

MJ demurred and made a face.

"Oh, come on, we have twelve more hours on this plane, and at least two more until they even feed us! Please?" Heath blinked at her. "I've already seen it, anyway, you know?"

MJ gave in and opened the laptop and notebook.

"Yeah!" Heath clapped her on the back. "Now, it looked like you'd even written in some of the tabs, did I see that right?"

"Yes, I did," MJ answered.

Heath took the notebook, and read it off to MJ as she transcribed into her laptop. Heath quickly learned how to translate her handwritten scribbles, and the two of them made an efficient team.

"Okay, so it's very obvious that you're extremely talented," Heath said a few minutes later.

MJ was silent.

Heath nudged her shoulder.

"You can't possibly know that," she finally said in a small voice.

"What if I can't sing?" she finally added. "You don't even know if I can carry a tune, do you?"

"Unh unh, no way, don't even try, that's complete and utter bollocks, MJ, you could tell when your laptop was in the wrong key," Heath said. "I can't even do that, and I've been a professional singer since I was seventeen!" He looked at her. "You have perfect pitch, or something close to it, don't you?"

Again, MJ couldn't look at him, he was just too close. She finally nodded. "But I don't really sing in front of other people, okay?" she said. "I mean, I was a music major in college, so I did when I had to, but that's all."

Her palms got sweaty just remembering performance days at UCLA, waiting her turn in the wings, pulling her shirts away from her back, just hoping she wouldn't swoon before her turn.

"Whoa, whoa, MJ, you okay? You're breathing kind of fast. Relax, I'm not going to ask you to sing," Heath reassured her. "Though this song looks rather beautiful."

MJ smiled.

"Is it about your mum?" he hazarded a guess.

MJ nodded, equal parts pleased and scared. She was happy he got the song, but she didn't want to talk about it.

Just then a flight attendant appeared.

"Dinner time," she chirped.

Thank goodness.