BIG WARNING: This is about what most Americans consider a very sensitive subject right now: The World Trade Center. Please don’t consider me insensitive or insulting for writing about it. The idea just popped into my head when I read on the EvoSlash message board how this one guy called his sister before the plane crashed, and he said “I love you.” Or something like that. I don’t remember. I just wanted to warn you that this is about the World Trade Center and... slash. WTC and slash, so if those are two things you don’t want to read about, PLEASE don’t read this!

A/N: Um, a couple things you should know before reading this fic. First of all, make sure you’ve read the warning. Secondly, I don’t remember where Bayville is. I thought it was in New York (and I think that’s where I have it in most of my fics), but then again, I heard it was in Massachusetts. So, for the sake of this fic, it’s in Mass. Thirdly, this was written very quickly... and it’s short. So, it might lack depth or something. I don’t know. Fourthly, I needed a motif, so I picked stars. Why? Because while brainstorming this in the room I’m currently staying in, I looked up and saw those glow in the dark plastic stars and I figured “What the hell.” There. Now you know.

10

He closed his eyes, a tiny smile playing at his lips. Last night he touched the stars. Last night he held close to him what was impossible to catch. He was calm. He was serene. He was a fucking sacred cow, seemingly oblivious, seemingly blissful in the midst of chaos and madness.

The fashionably bony woman beside him sobbed hysterically, hiccuping pleas to uncaring ears as everyone shouted out their own concerns, worries, and swears. They didn’t care about that one individual sitting next to them, the crying strangers. They were too busy wondering what was to come. Am I coming home tonight? Will I see my children again? Does she really know how much I love her? I never told--

“Give me a hand, Lance.”

“Why’re you doing this?”

“My room just needed something more,” came the hasty response, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Hold this.”

“Stars?”

“Yes, Lance. Stars.” A slight teasing in the patronizing voice.

“It’s just plastic.” He held the star in his palm, cupping his other hand over it to watch the sickly pale green transform into faintly luminous neon light.

“It’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to having any real stars.”

Such a simple little answer. It made him want to drop the artificial star and sweep the lithe boy off of the chair he was balancing on. Plant kisses along the slender neck, dance under the light of the false stars, finally speak those understood, implicit words that he so longed to...

But, he didn’t. Rather, he stared at the glowing object in his hand, stared at the radiant boy, and kept silent.

“What’s up, Lance?”

“Thinking.”

“Lance Alvers? Thinking? Somebody notify the press!” He smiled brightly, then stared thoughtfully at Lance. “You know...” He placed another star on the ceiling. “Tomorrow, we’ll have been dating for one month. I know that’s not a big thing at all, but... I just thought, in case you didn’t know...”

“I know.” I love you. “Sorry that I’m going to be gone tomorrow. You know how Mystique is... New recruit, blah blah, go to LA, blah blah. I wish the bitch would just go out and do it herself.”

“Well, I’m skipping school tomorrow, so... take my cell-phone. Call me when you get there, okay?”

“Right when I get there. I promise”

9

Last night he held a star in his hand. It felt ridiculous, getting so happy over something so simple. Ridiculous, feeling such excitement from just laying against Pietro, feeling the warmth of another body next to him, listening to the soft breathing as he stared up at the glowing shapes on the ceiling. He felt like he could see the whole universe. He felt like he owned the whole universe. The stars, the planets, the pointless rocks floating about aimlessly; all his. And Pietro, the tangible proof that Heaven existed, the only thing that Lance really wanted... Pietro belonged to himself. The only thing in the universe to escape Lance’s grasp, and he was fine with it, for he didn’t want to own the only thing he ever loved.

But that was all last night. That was the past.

Lance leaned his head back and looked up at the sterile gray ceiling. So motionless, not giving way to how fast they were really going. Deceiving. Luring frantic passengers into a false sense of stillness. Looking up at the ceiling, he felt some of his calmness ebb away.

I don’t own the universe. I’m not in control.

He ran fingers through his hair languidly, letting out a wry chuckle.

I’m not in control of this situation.

The other passengers had higher hopes than he. Oh, they’ll just land us somewhere in-- I don’t know-- Canada and make some crazy demands, then we’ll all go home. The pilots won’t stand for this; they’ll fly us to safety. Surely, these maniacs can’t kill them, they need the pilots to fly the plane!

Are we going to land?

8

I am not calm. I am not serene. I am not a fucking sacred cow, seemingly oblivious, seemingly blissful in the midst of chaos and madness.

I’m afraid.

Lance looked around, slight panic washing over his previously composed demeanor. He was supposed to be en route to LA, right? Try to recruit this mutie kid before the X-Geeks in their private jet do, right? It was all supposed to be so easy.

They were probably already there, while Lance was...

He looked out the window, peering past the crying woman. New York. Manhattan.

Oh, God.

7

Where are the super heroes when you need them? Oh, right. Locked away in their fucking mansion; sheltered from the pain of the real world. In their jet, on their way to recruit some kid while the people who need them are on the other side of the country, screaming for help.

We’re not landing.

He chuckled again. Last night, I held a star. Last night, I held Pietro, never once telling him what I wanted to say. Last night, I owned the universe.

6

I’m not coming out of this alive.

Manhattan. He had seen it once before, but never so fast.

His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out Pietro’s cell-phone.

“Call me when you get there, okay?”

5

This is it.

He dialed, frantic fingers prodding at the buttons.

4

I wonder what Heaven’s like.

SEND.

3

Will the angels remind me of Pietro?

“Hello?”

“Pietro?”

“Lance! Why are you--”

2

I wonder what Hell’s like.

“I love you. Goodbye.”

“Lance, I--!”

END.

1

He let the phone slip through his slack fingers, and a tiny smile played on his lips. Last night I touched the stars...

A/N: *sigh* Don’t know what to say. This is what happens when I’m bombarded with news and David Bowie music (“China Girl” spawned the “sacred cow” line ^^). On a lighter note, Chapter 5 of “Tumbling Down” is taking forever to write! WHEEE!!! I need to work on something fluffy/parodyesque soon, or my head’s gonna explode. I MIGHT actually work on “Come What May” again, but.... I dunno. We’ll see what happens! :D