Title: Towers
Author: maestra
Author's Note: Sorry these Chapters have been so brief. Thanks to all of you who have thoughtfully provided feedback. Please be aware that in this chapter some of the images of 9-11 are brought up and the characters are trying to deal with them and with their feelings. I have endeavored to deal with these things as sensitively as I could. Especially considering the timing of my posting this story.

Chapter 7: "While Angels Sleep"
Broots had tried everything conceivable to get clearance for the Centre jet to fly from Blue Cove to New York City, or even an airstrip in the area. It just wasn't a good time to try to fly somewhere on a private plane. They were lucky enough he thought, to get 3 tickets on a commercial flight that left the next evening. With the nation's tightened security, Broots thought as his lips curled in a smirk, he would love to see Miss Parker try to get her 9 mm through security! Chuckling quietly to himself he printed out their travel itinerary for Miss Parker and Sydney, and dropped by their empty offices to leave a copy in their In Box for them tomorrow.
Now, home to pack, he thought wearily. Who knew how many days they would be stuck in New York City trying to find the needle in a haystack that was one genius pretender who could be anything he wanted to be. 'Or', Broots had a horrible thought, 'he could be one of the victims that was lost in the rubble himself....'
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Tara finished putting the last of the dishes away from their meal, and entered the living room where she had sent Jarod to relax and watch television. She found her tired guest asleep on the sofa, hand tucked under his head and denim clad legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. She took a lightweight multi-colored afghan that was draped across a nearby chair and carefully draped it over him and his bare feet.
Tara herself curled up in a large chair near by, curling her legs up under her to watch television, and catch up on the news in the city that never sleeps. The lights of Broadway were dimmed, and all over the Big Apple, people took to the streets, and pulled together as a community. As total strangers bonded over loved ones missing and lost.
Jarod awoke to the sound of quiet sobs, he barely heard them over the murmur of the television, but he was sure he heard someone crying. He opened his eyes to see his friend Tara, her hands over her mouth as silent tears streamed down her face while watching the television as the station played the airplanes hitting the World Trade Center Towers and the collapse of them and a cloud of smoke and ash that rolled down the street while people frantically ducked into buildings or searched for some kind of protection. She must have felt his eyes upon her for she looked over toward him and quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks.
"I'm sorry Jarod." she gasped shakily, "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's ok Tara," Jarod replied, as he threw the afghan off and swung his legs around and put his feet on the floor.
Tara grabbed the remote from the coffee table nearby and changed the channel, but there the same images replayed. She changed the channel again and there again was coverage of those gathered near the hospitals and volunteer centers trying to find their missing relatives. Had any one seen their son, their cousin, their wife, or their husband? Hundreds maybe thousands of families torn apart, in just one moment in time.
Because of the sim he had done years earlier while still in the Centre, he had known that this sort of thing could happen. Now all these lives lost were added to the burden he had to bear, adding to the pain in his heart. To think if he had been able to get to New York on Monday as he had originally planned, he would have been working in the South tower when it was hit.
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To Be Continued...