"What?!" Katherine exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you missed the flight. It just left," the patient man explained again.

"How? I was here on time!"

"I don't know, miss. Would you like to board the next flight out?"

Katherine scowled and looked over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of two large, familiar men walking in her direction. Guards.

"Oh shit!" Katherine ran through the crowded airport. THey were going to take her back!

She turned a corner and ran in a terminal before the guards saw. She jogged into the plane, occupying the last empty seat the couch section.

Katherine warily watched the entrance of the plane. No one came.

She looked to her left and saw a man about her age. Blonde hair, intense blue eyes, peachy skin. He was looking out the window at the blackness.

"You're Nick Carter, aren't you?" she asked.

He looked over at her. His eyes bulged in sudden realization? "Princess? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at your home?"

She looked around, and then leaned closer to him in a conspiratory way. "I'm running away."

"Me too," he told her in the same tone.

Nervously, Katherine looked up, just in time to see a large hand pop through the curtain.

"Nick, they're going to catch me!" she whispered urgently.

"Okay, let me think," he said, eyeing the guards. They were getting closer.

"Hurry!"

He wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her into a kiss, back to the guards. With one eye opened, he watched the guards go past them and then scurry away.

He pulled away and looked at her. She was giggling. "This is so dangerous."

"You went this far and you're saying that now?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, it wasn't hard. I left a half-hour after your little concert ended," she informed. "And I must say, Mr. Carter, your performance tonight was terrible."

He grinned. "Really? I was trying to pretend it was interesting."

"You think being on stage is boring?"

"If you were on spotlight 24/7, you'd understand," he told her. The plane shuddered as it started to move.

"Try being on tabloids, with people writing vicious stories about your personal life." She yawned.

"Hey, I'm twenty-one, which makes me older than you. So maybe you should sleep. Pass me a pillow."

He laughed and gave her one. "You're so demanding...Besides, I'm turning twenty-one in a month or two."

She shrugged and fell asleep.