Crash And Burn - Part 1

"Mind you don't break the suitcase, buddy," Ryan Evans called over his shoulder, tapping his way down the remaining steps from the upper floor so quickly that he almost collided with his wife at the bottom. "Hello, beautiful. You are a lovely last sight to behold, I must say."

"Do you have to go?" asked Marie, looping her arms around his neck. "I'll never get used to the quiet; our baby is rearing to go way too soon."

"You'll have me all to yourself in two weeks, love," Ryan promised, tugging her into a warm hug. "We got through it with Lily and Petunia already, Clay is not a baby anymore."

"I don't like Mr. Strauss at all right now," the redhead pouted, referring to the boss of the publishing company where her husband worked. "This better be a damn good book."

"The Five People You Meet In Heaven," said Ryan; "it's pretty philosophical for fiction, but I have a good feeling about it. My job is to sell the good, bad, and ugly anyway."

"You always do," she said and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. "What's taking Clay so long?"

"He's probably sulking over the model airplane we didn't have time to finish building," Ryan laughed, spinning around reluctantly. "Clay, it's time to go, now!"

"Coming, coming," the eighteen-year-old called, finally thundering down the stairs carrying his father's suitcase. "The incomplete jet looks very sad up there."

"We'll finish it when I get back, I promise. Your old man's gotta have something to look forward to, after all. You're about to fly the nest, and Duke won't leave much time for model airplane building."

"I'm not even going far enough away to need a plane, guys," Clay pointed out. "That ship has sailed with Flo and Tuney. I'll always come back, duh."

"You better," said Marie sternly, but taking in the idolizing grin on her son's face as he looked at his father, a lump rose unbidden to her throat. "I can't believe you're about to head off to college, my baby."

"Now, you don't start, Ma." Clay shook his head fondly and bent over her shoulders for a final quick hug. "I'll be back soon; it's just the airport right now."

The exchange had led the trio out to the garage, and Clay eyed the silver 1966 Stingray longingly. Ryan slammed the trunk on his suitcase and then handed the keys to his son. "You up for a spin, buddy? Even half an hour away, you'll need a car to come home, you know. It's a pretty good time for my first car to become yours."

"No way!" If his father hadn't been nudging him impatiently into the driver's seat, Marie was pretty sure Clay would have been bouncing up and down in excitement. "Thanks, Dad."

"Be careful," Marie warned him as he stuck the keys in the ignition. She braced her hand on the doorframe and leaned through the open window to kiss her husband. "Have a safe flight, my love."

"I'll call when I get to New York," Ryan told her. "Out of the five people in my heaven, two are right here." When she pulled away, he was making a forlorn face, too; "You're right, I don't like Mr. Strauss right now, either."

"Bye, Mom," said Clay, waving impatiently at her. "See you soon." Marie reluctantly backed away and observed her son reverse out of the driveway. Growing up and separation were officially inevitable parts of life, and she was already quite sure she didn't like either one.

"That was so cheesy, Dad," said Clay a little while later when they were well on the way to the airport. "Two of the five people in your heaven, really?"

"You won't think it's cheesy when you find the right person, son, trust me on that. You'll understand one day." In what felt like no time at all, they reached the airport. When Clay successfully parked the car, his father patted him on the back. "Well done, buddy. Your mother might not like it, but you really are growing up. You take good care of this baby, alright?"

"I will," Clay promised, following Ryan out of the car and turning to stare at it in awe while his father retrieved his suitcase from the trunk. "I'm sure she'll get over the clinginess once you come home to distract her."

"In that, I've had years of practice, I think you're right," his father agreed. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. Can't wait to finish up that jet before you go."

"Me either," the teenager nodded eagerly. "See you in two weeks, Dad."

He hugged his father fiercely for a moment, but when he stepped back, Ryan's bright green eyes were solemn. "Jokes aside, you take care of your mother while I'm gone, alright? She may be in denial of the fact, but you're not a baby anymore. I'm counting on you, buddy."

"Yeah, I will," said Clay seriously. "That's why I like Duke. Growing up is one thing, but I kind of like being close to you guys. Lily and Petunia got pulled abroad by Mom's British roots, not me."

"That's my boy," Ryan beamed, and the sparkle in his eyes reminded Clay vividly of both his older sisters. "See you in two weeks, bud."

Watching his father walk towards the departure terminal, Clay felt a distinct sense of responsibility wash over him. He waited until Ryan was out of sight and then drove home to keep his word and ease his mother's overprotective tension.

In the whirlwind of preparing to depart for college, the next two weeks flew by. By the middle of August, the Batman and Wolverine posters on Clay's bedroom walls were among the few remaining things that still made the room feel like his own. He was smiling up at the model airplane dangling above his bed as he firmly taped yet another cardboard box shut when the sound of glass shattering sent him hurtling down the stairs. "What was that?" he gasped, but pausing at the foot of the stairs, the reason for the shattered mug that left tea soaking into the carpet became abundantly clear.

His mother had been sitting in the rocking chair in the corner with her afternoon tea, while Clay continued to pack his college things. Her dark blue eyes were fixated on the news report on the television, wide and horrified. When the newscaster's words penetrated the shocking sight of his mother's face, Clay suddenly felt so sick he couldn't blame her reaction.

"We have breaking news," said the pretty blonde reporter on the screen, the words on the ticker tape running across the bottom, giving it away before she could speak. "American Airlines flight 4735 suffered mysterious engine failure half-way from New York to Raleigh. The number of casualties is as yet unknown, but communication with the flight was lost over a forest area in Richmond, Virginia."

The woman then went on to talk about a fire somewhere, but Clay's gaze snapped desperately to his mother. "Mom?" he said carefully, but she either couldn't or wouldn't speak. "That…that was Dad's flight, wasn't it?" Clay didn't really need to ask the question, because he'd been counting the days to his father's return as much as Marie had. But her tiny, barely perceptible nod still made his insides turn when the television showed a crashing aircraft exploding into flames on the screen a few moments later. "Oh my God," he whispered at the spectacle that made any survivors very unlikely. The crunch of the broken tea mug underfoot forced him back to the present as his mother staggered to her feet and ran to the bathroom in the hallway.

By the time Clay lunged for the remote to turn off the distressing news, Marie was retching violently, and the sound made him inexplicably feel five years old again. Clay should have called the airline, he knew, so that they might cling to one last shred of hope that Ryan had somehow taken a different flight. But propelled by terror and desperation, the teenager found himself dialing his father's younger brother in Lima instead. If this nightmare was real, there was no way he could deal with it without reinforcements.

While Ryan had gone to college and then relocated to Raleigh to become a literary agent, his younger brother Jonathan had stayed on the family's farmland in Ohio. A sensation of panic was just tightening its grip on Clay's pounding heart when his Aunt Tanya answered the phone. "Evans residence, hello?"

"Aunt Tanya, thank God!" Clay knew he sounded more desperate than he had meant to out of sheer relief. "It's Clay. I…um, have you guys seen the news today?"

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" she asked, obviously sensing the urgency in his tone because he heard her shushing his three-year-old twin cousins in the background.

"A plane from New York crashed somewhere in Richmond," he said, even the words spoken out loud, not making it seem any more real. "It doesn't look like there are any survivors, and…um, my Dad was supposed to be on that plane."

"No," she gasped; "Oh my God!"

"That's what I said," he agreed dully; "Can you…um, can you come down here, please? My Mom is in shock, and I don't know what to do. I'm supposed to be leaving for college in a few weeks, not losing my Dad right now."

"Clay, breathe," she reminded him, obviously having heard the hysterical edge to his voice. "Of course, we'll come. Have you spoken to your sisters already?"

"Not yet," he admitted. "How am I supposed to tell them this? This plane crash won't be global news or anything, but it just changed our whole world. I don't know how to do this!"

"We'll be there as soon as we possibly can, honey," Tanya promised, although the usually soothing lilt of her voice did little to calm him down. "I'll tell you what; I'll call the girls, okay? You just take care of your mother right now, and we'll be there soon."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but the relief was palpable at her offer. He vaguely heard his aunt say that she had the situation under control, but then Marie staggered out of the bathroom and left him speechless as he hung up the phone. Her trembling fingers were toying with the diamond heart pendant on the chain Ryan had gifted her on their anniversary a few months ago, and her eyes were bloodshot. "Mom," Clay whispered and swooped towards her as if a magnetic force was driving them together. When she began to shiver in his arms, he shoved the scared five-year-old little boy out of mind. The promise he had made his father two weeks ago had just been enforced in the worst way possible, and he would not break it, now or ever.

A / N This is the furthest I've ever gone back in my headcanons, pre-Clara even. Clearly, I have a thing for torturing my baby Clay. Enjoy all! xx