A/N: So, hello. *waves* I'm trying to, ahem, get back in the swing of fanfiction. (I was busy pumping out chapters, short stories, and poems-all original. No time.)

So, I decided to do my first...one-shot? Yeah. I think it'll stay a one-shot, unless someone really wants me to continue it. And, just so you know, I'm no good with romance. So...maybe a bad idea. I dunno. Maybe I will, or maybe I'll let out of you adopt it. Depends on the response. (And if you see this on Young Writers Society with different names or whatnot, it's probably me. Because no one would steal from me...little miss unpublished author.) Also be aware this is my first...well, fluff piece. *gags on sweetness* I think I did fairly well, though. If you notice anything, feel free to point it out, too. Because I wrote this in one sitting. Yeah.

Anyway, good luck figuring out who the girl is.

Disclaimer: I do not own Flight 29 Down. I wish I did...but I don't. Hence I'm writing fanfiction and I'm not making money off this.

...Waking up, I was completely confused. But I was pretty sure that was normal.

I glanced around at my bland and hazy, blue-tinted-in-the-night walls, and I wrestled out of my covers, tossing aside my quilt. I glanced down at the floor to see my silver mobile dancing across the carpet.

I could practically feel my eyes get as big as saucers.

I snatched it up and opened it. An unknown number pulsed on the screen.

I bit my lip, slightly hesitant, and brushed some of my hair out of my face. Finally, I pushed the little green phone button and put my cell to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

A breath left me in a rush and my heart practically leaped into my throat. "Jackson?"

I hear a chuckle. He sounded as tired as I feel, but obviously my confusion amused him. I smiled.

"Yep, it's me."

I glanced at my alarm clock; took in the red digital numbers, a throwback from the 70s (I believed). "How'd you get my number?"

"You gave it to me."

I blushed and smoothed out my tank top. "Right." I bit my lip again. "It's eleven at night."

"I know."

Neither of us said anything and I untangled my legs, and then moved to sit Indian style. My sheets rustled and embarrassment hit me when I began to wonder if he could hear. Future boyfriends talking to you in bed-not good, I decided.

"So..." I began.

"Could you meet me tomorrow?"

I started. "Um, sure!" I didn't know if I could or not. But I figured it would be fine. It had been weeks. My parents were no longer as clingy-not that they had been, nearly at all. I had no plans. "I'll probably have to ask my parents, though."

Jackson stays silent.

"Um, I mean, I don't have to..."

"Don't go behind your parents," he said, quick-like. "I don't want to be that guy." He paused. "I'm not that guy."

"I know."

"Um. I don't exactly have money..." he whispered.

"There's a park by my house. We can go there. Just sit. Talk. I'll buy you a pretzel."

"You eat pretzels?"

"Go back to sleep, Jackson." He let out a sound; an agreeable sound. I grinned. "We can talk tomorrow. Meet me at 7 o'clock."

"My...family normally eats dinner then."

I tipped my head, but decided not to ask what's up with him. Yet. All I knew was his social worker had whisked him away as soon as we got back. Or it felt like it. "In the morning," I said, finally. I listen to him burst into laughter. "What?"

"Nothing. See ya."

I hear a click. I pull the cell phone away to see 'Call Ended'.

I really needed to teach him some manners. Oh well. I'd get around to that eventually. Not that I cared. He was as close to perfect as I could probably get. My Dad, though? There was a reason we'd never had pets... He didn't like things going against him. He'd drop a truck full of cinder-blocks on the Fates if he could.

I sighed.

Oh well. At least I wasn't some Juliet. I did have the analytical gene from-guess who.

I shook my head, then dropped the phone and get back snuggled under my covers. The glowing, greenish stars I'd put on my ceiling when I was six with my uncle's help shone down and I grinned again, just out of contentment.

I was home. I was safe. Everyone was okay. Even Captain Russell.

Anything else would be icing on the cake.

Feeling like I'm drifting off, eyes closed, I hope, so dearly, none of that was a dream; a fantasy.

No matter how perfect things are, I continue to have those-no matter how unfortunate. Hurtful.

I let out a long breath and let myself sleep; darkness closing in.

A/N: Thanks for reading...and feel free to tell me what you think. Because I love reviews. And PMs. They make me feel loved.

Anyway... *tips hat*Adios, fellow fans.