Rating: PG-13
Summary: The immediate aftermath of the WTC attack.
Maddux was dragged out of sleep at 8:30 by some unknown force. He wasn't sure
why, because he had been up quite late the night before and should have
been tired. But sleep wasn't returning. Sighing, he flipped on the bedroom
TV, turning the sound down so not to wake Glavine, still blissfully asleep
beside him. He watched a few uneventful minutes before turning his head to
watch his lover sleep instead. The words 'breaking news' brought his
attention back to the screen and he looked up just in time to see New
York's World Trade Center, smoke billowing from the North Tower. "Holy
shit!"
Beside him, Glavine stirred. "What?"
"Wake up and look at this. What the hell happened?"
Recognizing the urgency in his voice, Tom sat up, letting the covers fall to
his waist, and looked at the screen. "Was that a plane?"
"Yeah."
"Someone flew a plane into the North Tower. Was it a malfunction, or what?"
"I don't know. Shut up and watch, maybe we'll see."
Glavine ignored the callous response, mainly because NBC cameras probably
taken from the Stock Exchange nearby had started talking to people on the
street. After watching for about 15 minutes, they concluded that no one
knew anything. "This is dumb. No one has any idea what happened. It looks
like the excitement is over, anyway."
The words were scarcely from his mouth when the second plane hit. And no one
thought of a malfunction now. Terrorism was the word on everyone's lips.
The two pitchers sat, having inched closer together without realizing it,
stunned into silence.
And then the buildings collapsed. "Oh, fuck," Maddux muttered, staring blankly
at the television. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Equally pale, Glavine turned to look at him. "They're...gone? The World Trade
Center towers have really collapsed? Who would - what would..."
Reports started streaming in, on terrorist acts, on the attack on the
Pentagon. "Tommy, we could go to war here. This is...this is..."
"Christ."
They were silent, and it took Maddux several moments to realize he was crying.
He turned to look at the other man, and Glavine looked back, his eyes dry
but red. "You know...you know, I bet it's ok to be emotional now. I think
it's ok to cry."
Tom didn't reply, but his eyes shut and when they opened, moisture rimmed
them. "Ah, fuck," Maddux murmured. "Come here."
Still, it surprised him when the other man did. Greg held him tightly, glad
for the answering embrace. "I knew people there," Glavine muttered. "I
mean...I didn't know them, but I...when I visited, all those security
guards. Tour guides. Business people. Fuck."
Maddux didn't respond. The other pitcher was showing more emotion now than
he'd ever really seen him do before, except maybe when he won Game 6 of
the '95 World Series. But baseball seemed unimportant. He should know,
though, that when Glavine did let something affect him, it hit him
hard. "It's ok," he murmured, knowing it wasn't, knowing it might not ever
be. "It'll be ok."
Eventually, the broke apart, and Glavine wiped his eyes. "I better go...home.
My kids-"
"Yeah. Yeah, go. I gotta call Vegas."
"They'll close the airports. Who's not here? Burk. BJ, Sanchez. Rick's in
Colorado."
"We won't play tonight, Tommy. We might not play this week."
"Yeah. Yeah, right," the lefty nodded distractedly.
"Ok. Look, Tommy. If you need anything - anything - call me. Come over."
Glavine was dressing, finished and kissed him. "Thank you. You know me better
than anyone."
He left and Greg picked up the phone and dialed his home number in Nevada. His
wife answered, awake, but cheerful. She would be getting the kids ready
for school, not listening or watching. "Turn on the TV," he said gravely.
"Which station, babe?"
"An - any station."
He could hear her walking to comply and prepared for he reaction he knew would
come.