So, this.

The 9/11 attacks might be a piece of history now, but still a relatively recent piece, and I tried to deal with the details in the most respectful way I could as a writer. I myself was close to Adam and Lacey's age when it all took place, so writing this was pretty cathartic for me. But rest assured, I researched quite a bit about what went on in New York on this day. One challenge I had was remembering how cumbersome communication was back then as it was really just the dawn of the new technology age.

I wish to offer a trigger warning here for [only moderately] disturbing content.

/*/*/*/

If the World Was Ending - JP Saxe & Julia Michaels

Adam had to work hard not to return home with a sense of arrogance he knew he wasn't due. Sure–he had worked hard to make the NHL, shedding his skin and putting his very bones and diseased joints into both on- and off-ice training for years. But, he reminded himself, so had a lot of other guys who hadn't been looked at twice by a pro team. One more year before he moved to Savannah for good, or at least for the following two hockey seasons. That meant one more season playing for the Violets alongside some of the best overlooked players he knew. He would work hard and not allow himself to lose his stride, knowing he owed at least that much to the teammates and coaches who had inspired him on a daily basis since he was a freshman.

Just before leaving training camp, Adam and a couple of his fellow recruits visited a tattoo parlor to commemorate the milestone of finishing their first grueling month as Sentinels. Getting inked was something he never thought he would actually do; but in his eyes, training alongside serious athletes in a professional setting had transformed him from a wistful boy into an accomplished man. The bold action was more than justified.

"What is it? Flame?" Yuriy stared in awe. His Russian buddy had come a long way from the first day of training when he'd collapsed onto the locker room floor in front of Adam, utterly spent.

"Yup." Still smarting from the sharp discomfort, Adam peered into the gritty establishment's mirror and half-smiled at the way his vision had been so well realized in the form of flames snaking a pattern across his heart and trailing down his ribcage. The bold cursive in the center read, Fire in my heart.

It was a move his mother regarded with rolled eyes upon his return to Minnesota, but his brother approved of with a devilish grin. His father ignored it altogether, which Adam read as the man's acceptance.

Before heading off to school for his senior year, Adam was happy to be able to catch up with most of the Ducks for what he felt in his heart was probably a final weekend together as they "were". It was the first time in a few years he'd seen Dwayne, Kenny, Julie, Portman and Mendoza. Russ managed to make it for the lake house excursion, but hadn't been able to come for the team's reunion game against some old Hawks players (not that the guy had been part of the team anyway during that first chapter of the Ducks' existence). Jesse, however, was there for all of it, bringing with him his beautiful, doe-eyed girlfriend Aselle. When he introduced her he told them she was a fellow recruit who'd been assigned a house on base just across from him.

Seeing the Hawks' players again was pretty satisfying. Adam still had relatively fond memories of a childhood spent on the team that had turned against him toward the end of Pee Wee's. When he had the chance to make eye contact with Scott McGill prior to the friendly competition, the two of them had even traded a smile and brief wave. All was forgiven and forgotten. Now for a great game.

And great it was. The Hawks beat the Ducks, which settled the score. Adam had tried his best to dial down his speed and aggression for the scrimmage given the fact that none of his fellow teammates, aside from Guy, Connie and Charlie and most of the attending Hawks, were playing hockey in college. He didn't want to make a spectacle of himself or risk hurting anybody else with his newly honed skills on the ice. It was a refreshing game, and fun–unlike most he'd experienced while playing with the Violets.

The lake house trip was likewise good, or at least mostly. There were a lot of new couples attending, and Adam had to be at the ready to turn his attention elsewhere when he viewed too much PDA between two people.

"Fulton, meet any sweet chicks while you're out there nailing boards together?" Portman jested with his old friend.

"Sure, but none who want to go out with a construction guy," Fulton rolled his eyes. "Trust me, catcalls do nothing for my image."

"You're out there giving out catcalls, Fulton?" Connie asked from her perch with Guy next to the fireplace, holding a glass of wine.

"No way. But the other guys are, so apparently we're all guilty." He threw his hands up in surrender.

"It'll change for you one day. When it's the right time." Kenny Wu peered over at his own girl, and a full-figured blonde several inches taller than him smiled back. It was funny to see how significant others could compare and contrast.

At the end of the night before going to bed, the old teammates repeated their classic Ducks chant before disbanding, and Adam tried to set everything straight in the kitchen and living room before heading upstairs. But he was stopped by Julie.

"Adam," she whispered out of earshot of everyone else. "I know about you and Lacey. And I just want to say I'm really sorry."

He paused, feeling his heart rate kick up a bit. "You know?"

"I do," she replied sympathetically. "I called her on her birthday, and that's when I found out. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're dealing okay."

"What, so you can go back and report to her?" The response shot out of Adam's mouth before he'd even had time to think about it, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry for that, I'm just…"

"Angry?" Julie seemed not to have taken offense. "I get it. And it's okay. But so you know, I'm not going back to her to say anything. Lacey and I are friends, and I want it to stay that way, but I'm your friend too. And while I'm not going to be a go-between for you guys, I do want to be here for both of you."

Adam nodded. "Well, thanks for that. And I'm…uh, I guess I'm handling it. It can't be helped, you know? Lots of people break up. It just happens"

Of course it all went so much deeper than that, a pang resounding in his heart just after he uttered the flippant words. This breakup hadn't been just any breakup, but everyone else didn't need to know how his heart had been ground to powder, not even Julie.

"Well when you need to talk, I'm a phone call away. And Adam, you have a lot to give. You'll both find somebody else eventually. Just don't shut everyone out, okay?"

Easier said than done, but he simply nodded. And that was that.

It was with a little sadness that the group went their separate directions after their brief time of catching up, and Adam found himself lamenting the fact that the Ducks no longer flew together as they once had. And he wondered: was everyone just going to disappear from his life? Who and what would ever be permanent?

A few weeks after his twenty-second birthday and just prior to senior year, Adam moved back into the same suite his father had guaranteed he'd have the whole four years of college, realizing this was the last year he'd spend here and kind of feeling sad about that, too. He knew he needed to get his act together and refocus on the fact that his long sought-after dream had finally come true. Shouldn't that be enough?

Everything else was going to be okay. It would just take a while to forge a new normal.

/*/*/*/

The morning of Tuesday, September 11th

Adam didn't sleep well. This was an odd occurrence for him aside from the times he was experiencing an RA flare. He could think of no reason for it except that he'd had a late-night coffee to stay awake for a study session. But he'd done the same thing plenty of times before. He decided against taking something for sleep, however, because not only did he not have anything, chances were a TylenolPM would hang him over for his eleven o'clock class anyway. So he laid awake listening to the radio until he finally succumbed to a hard, dreamless slumber sometime after three.

It felt to him, tired as he was, that only minutes later he was jolted awake by a car crash.

He sat up abruptly, rubbing his face and wondering how it was possible a car accident would be so loud and shake his entire dorm. Then, wondering if the sound had come from the radio instead and just jolted him awake, he turned it off and lay back down. That's when he heard people screaming outside.

Adam rose again and opened his blinds, appalled by what he saw: people out in the streets, running, as smoke filled the air. He strained his eyes to see through it, a commotion arising outside his dorm room.

"What happened?!" "I don't know, but something's on fire. We gotta get out of here." "The dorm's gonna catch on fire! Go!" "Oh my God, I smell the smoke!"

Forcing his foggy brain to cooperate, Adam moved into action, grabbing the clothes he wore yesterday as they were close at hand. He looked around for his wallet, his dorm room key, and his cell phone in case he needed to call his parents. He just reached his door before he turned back around, running to the corner of his bedroom where he still kept boxes of unpacked stuff he planned to send back to his parents' for storage. He rummaged for just a few seconds through the top box, finally shoving it to the side, contents spilling everywhere as he ripped open the next one. There at the bottom he found what he was looking for and pulled out the picture frame, shattering it against the wall to break the glass and grab the photo inside. Bending it in half and shoving it into his pocket, he made for the door again.

He stepped out into the hallway and watched, bewildered, as students headed for the exits in a blind panic as they toted various items from their rooms. Just as he was nearly trampled by a girl carrying a lamp, causing him to step back, a guy's voice boomed above the racket, "It's the World Trade Center! It's exploded! Get out, get out!"

Adam pushed his way back out into the hall with the others, running down flights of stairs and out into the thick, smoky air. He and his dorm mates were then assaulted by the fumes instantly and began coughing violently. Finally, when he was able to breathe again, he looked up and saw one of the twin towers engulfed in flames.

He and everyone else looked around, panicked, trying to figure out what to do before most of them took off running in all directions. Not knowing where else he could possibly go, Adam picked a path to follow, glad his recent training had kept him in good shape. When he was a little ways off he finally stopped and turned around, surveying the damage. What could have caused something like this?

His question was answered not one minute later when someone pointed out a plane cutting through the smoke overhead before slamming–without even slowing down–into the second tower.

"RUN!" screamed a girl next to him, and everyone around Adam instantly obeyed, shaken from their utter shock. Debris showered everything he can see, and while the University Hall students had mostly escaped the worst of it, a fine white powder-like substance coated most of them as they continued to flee. His brain still catching up with it all, he blindly followed the person in front of him.

Adam wasn't sure how long he ran before he elected to turn and face what was happening at the burning towers–but he wished he had just kept his back to it. People by the hundreds were jumping from the buildings that were consumed by flames, electing the quick death of hitting pavement over burning. He was absolutely horrified, and after a moment, shut his eyes tightly and turned away.

This was really bad. What could be hit next? Who was doing this? Because one plane colliding into a tall structure could be a terrible accident. But a second one, obviously targeting the very next tower, had to be intentional. Was all of New York being targeted?

The first call that came through on his Nextel, shaking him from his reverie, was his mom. He answered it just as he saw his dad beeping in as well.

"Mom, I'm okay." Adam tried to keep his voice calm but loud as he answered, barely able to hear above the screaming and crying around him. "Somebody hit the towers. Two planes. I don't know who, but–"

"Adam, get home! As quickly as you can! Something really bad is happening, but thank God you're okay!"

"I will," he assured her, not sure if he'd be able to keep the promise or not. But he knew she needed to hear it. "Call Dad and tell him I'm fine and I'll…I'll figure out how to get to Grandpa Greg's. Call there in a little while if I can't get through again."

"Yes, do that, but only if you can't make it here. I'll talk to your dad and try you back. He probably knows somebody who can get you out of there fast–"

"I have to go, Mom. Love you guys." With that Adam ended the call. He hated to, as badly as he needed to hear her voice. But he could barely hear it anyway, and besides, he needed to stay alert to what was happening. He had let them know he'd survived this, and that was what was most important.

Besides, there was one more thing he needed to do, just in case the worst happened. He stepped over to the side to allow the foot traffic all around him to go on unimpeded, and shakily dialed Lacey's number from memory. Then he remembered she might be in class, which would require him to dial her cell phone. But, as the mobile had been new to her just before they broke up, he didn't know the number by heart and had to scroll through his contacts quickly to find it, continuing to make mistake after mistake as his fingers bumbled over the keys. Finally, he put the phone to his ear and heard it go straight to voicemail.

Good. Leaving a message was all he wanted to do anyway. After the beep sounded, Adam opened his mouth to speak, so sure he had needed to make this phone call just seconds before, yet now having no idea what to say. Finally he remembered his own urgency, and the words spilled out.

"Lacey it's me, um, I'm at…I'm at school and you know that but something just happened to the Twin Towers. I don't know what and I don't know where I'm going but just in case we…don't make it out of this…I love you. And I'm sorry for what I put you through."

Adam ended the call just in time to be plowed into by a large gentleman running for all he was worth. They both hit the ground hard, but pushed themselves back onto their feet quickly before the man kept fleeing.

There. The phone calls would have to suffice for everybody. And, with that, Adam began to walk–not run–away from the wreckage, aimlessly.

/*/*/*/

He wasn't sure at what point he, along with the other dazed, confused students of NYU were found and herded together to make their way to Coles Sports & Recreation Center for the night. His dorm and five others had been mandatorily evacuated hours earlier.

Cell phone service had been down for a few hours, so Adam had had to stand in line for the handful of payphones like everybody else who was either phoneless, lost a signal or lost a charge. After a while he gave up, determined to try again tomorrow. He was exhausted.

A meal was fed to the misplaced students of whatever the restaurants on campus had on reserve, and Adam ate mindlessly, bumped and jarred from all around by thousands of other students. When nighttime came, they lay feet to head, side by side with very little room in between. Adam lay wide awake in the sleeping bag he was issued along with a thin pillow.

This sleeping arrangement was, without a doubt, not his kind of thing. But then he thought about the business associates, construction workers, and housekeeping staff that had been trapped inside the fallen towers hours earlier. Was it "their thing" to be engulfed in flames? How about it being "their thing" to jump from the sky onto the concrete to be scattered into thousands of pieces? And God, the firefighters. Adam was sure it hadn't been "their thing", either, to show up to help but die trying.

No, Adam could spend a night like this if he needed to. He could spend three weeks doing it and still not equal up to even half the sacrifice other people made today.

People said the perpetrators were terrorists from Afghanistan. It had been a suicide mission for them to ram their airplanes into the side of the Twin Towers, and also the Pentagon. But what struck Adam was hearing about a plane who ran itself into the ground in Pennsylvania, passengers having overtaken hijackers who clearly had purposes to crash into another designated building. The flight had been on its way to San Francisco. Three or four men–details were still fuzzy in Adam's mind–made their way to the cockpit and laid all of the terrorists out, opting for everyone to die at their own hands rather than for even more to die at the hands of the hijackers. That took courage, and was something Adam hoped with all his heart he would have had in that situation, too. It hurt to think all of this had happened because a religious cult in the Middle East hated the U.S. so much.

But, trying to push it all as much as he could out of his mind, Adam closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It proved to be almost impossible surrounded by weeping (a lot of his own classmates and dorm mates, he learned, had lost someone they loved that day), smoke and ash that lingered on clothes and bodies, and the stench of urine for how many had peed themselves in fear and distress. But it was all okay. He would deal with it.

He reached into his pocket and fingered the picture he'd brought with him, that with just a stroke of his finger took him back to another time and place: the lake house, sitting by candlelight with Lacey. She had looked so pretty that night, so happy. He still remembered the pink glow of her face and how much he'd wanted to take her in his arms right then. But all that existed now–of all of it–was this picture. He was grateful he'd snatched it out of its frame, because he had no idea yet what had happened to the building he'd lived in for three years, along with all his things.

Adam took a deep, steadying breath, eyes still closed as he focused on that carefree time. He needed to be somewhere else right now–anywhere else. But his retreat from reality abruptly dissolved at the sound of the hollow voice of the girl that lay beside him.

"I lost my fiance."

Adam turned to her. He had no idea what to say, but he studied her face, void of any expression. All he could offer her was to listen, and he propped up on his elbow facing her. "You did…?"

"This was the first day of his painting job. He was doing an office space up there…in the first tower. I don't know yet if he burned or if he jumped."

The matter-of-fact way in which this girl communicated her awful tragedy caused the hair on the back of his neck to raise. But he didn't turn away. "I'm so sorry."

He was "sorry." What was that, in the face of such a tragedy? A guy's first day painting an office space and he met a horrific end.

"I-I don't…" the girl trailed off, staring into empty space. "I don't think I slipped an oatmeal pie in his lunch when I stayed over last night. Those were his favorite. Do you think he noticed?" She turned her eyes back to Adam, brow furrowed.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. It wasn't lunchtime yet. And even if he did notice…I'm sure he knew you loved him."

The girl watched Adam for a moment, then smiled, settling back down on her pillow, and held out her hand.

Adam blinked, staring at it for a moment.

"Take it, please. I just want to touch somebody."

He flushed, completely out of his element with this. But if he could offer the girl some comfort on the day she lost her fiance to something as awful as this…

"O-Okay," he whispered, taking her hand awkwardly but soon settling in. The fact was, he'd give anything to hold someone's hand, too.

With that, Adam sank back into the pillow once more. He soon heard the gentle snoring of the girl beside him, but he didn't let go of her hand for fear she would wake up and think herself alone.

In a matter of moments, to his surprise, Adam began to feel the delicious syrup of sleepiness coat him from head to toe, and his eyelashes fluttered a few times before finally closing.

"By the way," he vaguely heard the girl whisper, though he'd thought her asleep. "I'm Sarah. And thank you for this."

"Adam," was all he could respond, sleepily. "And sure. I'm sorry about…"

But that's all he remembered saying before he fell into a sleep of lead.

/*/*/*/

Lacey's first class of the day was always grueling, Research II: Measurement in Social Work Practice. Even the name made her want to fall asleep. But she knew the field work and courses for this year were to help her put into practice all the knowledge she'd gained over the last three years. She appreciated it, sure; but wished there was a less daunting way to cram all the information into her head, especially as she was increasingly hearing that real life career fields tended to pull very little on college learning and more on practical skills. It was the degree, Sondra had told her, that employers were looking for. Not necessarily as evidence of all you'd learned, but because a degree told them you possessed the perseverance to finish what you started. It made sense, but by now, Lacey was just ready to be finished with school.

Sondra had sailed off into the work world at the end of the spring semester and now worked as a fifth grade teacher in St. Paul. Lacey couldn't pity anyone more. Sondra and Jeff had broken up around that time as Jeff was still in school and it seemed Sondra was set on meeting a "mature man," whatever that meant. So Lacey and Jeff had remained friends, often sharing lunchtime between back-to-back classes and studying together in the library. Jeff was a little arrogant and cavalier at times, but Lacey enjoyed his simple and no-nonsense philosophies of life about as much as they made her cringe; plus, he made her laugh. So he'd become a friend all his own without the presence of Sondra. They had also begun to hang out some with a guy named James who was shy and backward–seemingly the last kind of buddy Jeff would have–and Lacey had tried to take the poor guy under her wing to help him learn to be a little less socially awkward.

A problem had developed, however. Increasingly, Jeff was turning his attention to her, and not necessarily in a "friendly" way. It alarmed Lacey, and gave rise to the feeling that she wasn't ready yet to embark on another relationship. Jeff was handsome, polished, and very driven to become a good businessman, focusing in production and sales–which he was more than capable of excelling at–but Lacey was pretty sure he wasn't her type, and she kept him at bay by opening up her jewelry box at home and pulling out something she hadn't looked at in a long while: Adam's high school ring. She had stopped wearing it around the time he'd presented her with the promise ring, as the aquamarine had felt so "next level." But even though she'd given the beautiful, dainty ring back to Adam when she broke up with him, she'd not even thought about also returning his high school ring. And, as he'd not asked for it back, she opted to keep it to always remember that beautiful time in her life. She had previously stayed away from her jewelry box because her heart hurt too badly to look inside and see the large sapphire staring up at her. However, she slipped it back on her finger that fall in order to give Jeff the definite signal that her heart, at least, was not yet available.

"That your old boyfriend's ring?" he asked immediately one day as he abruptly swung into the cafe booth across from her. He had this habit of appearing suddenly without warning, and it never failed to make Lacey jump.

"Yeah. I just…like it, you know, and it reminds me of him."

This was true, but she was also mostly saying it for the sake of putting Jeff off. She regretted the words immediately, though, as a look of hurt crossed his face.

"Jeez. I thought that was over a long time ago."

"Not that long ago," Lacey replied, a little more sharply than she'd intended, but softened her voice as she changed the subject. "Anyway, where's James? Did he survive his date with Mallory last night?"

Jeff, always easily distracted, picked up on her line and began to tell her with great gusto and theatrics about James' ill-fated date with Mallory from their British Lit II course last year.

It was Jeff's increasingly bold advances that niggled in Lacey's mind as she sat down for her morning class. Wearing Adam's ring just wasn't fending her friend off any more, and she wondered how to break the hard news to him that she wasn't interested. Her thoughts continued to drift throughout the morning as she rested her chin in her hand, switching positions every so often in order not to succumb to sleep under her heavy, half-closed eyelids.

That's when someone broke unceremoniously into Professor Hinden's lecture with a shout: "The World Trade Center just went up in smoke! It was plowed into by some plane! It looked like it was aiming right for it, too!"

Just like that, Lacey sat up straight, looking around with her classmates who were murmuring fretful. Professor Hinden, similarly flabbergasted, stopped teaching and didn't hold back the herds of people who spilled out into the hallway and into the lobby of the building in which a TV mounted up on the wall always streamed the morning news. Lacey gathered up her books and cautiously followed, never usually one to partake in watching the news due to her high anxiety. But she was sure to do so now.

The reporter was talking excitedly: "...Again, you are looking at pictures now. We understand from a CNN vice president, Sean Murtagh, who was an eyewitness to this, that a commercial jet has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. You can see the smoke billowing out. There are flames billowing out there, a commercial jet crashing into one of these towers. At this point, we do not have official injury updates to bring you. We are only now beginning to put together the pieces of this horrible incident…"

Lacey's brow furrowed. What a terrible thing! There had to have been upwards of a thousand people either in the burning building or on the ground below. Who would do this?

Her eyes were peeled to the TV like everyone else's were, the lobby strangely silent as all attention was focused on the TV. As Lacey stared in horror at the burning building, the reporter lost her professional voice as she made another exclamation.

There, on live TV, a second plane flew in and smashed into the second tower of the World Trade Center.

Lacey flinched as though having been hit by a human fist. The rest of the words the reporter said only faintly reached her through the humming in her ears:

"...You are looking at live pictures right now of the World Trade Center."

"...Again, we now have two passenger planes within 18 minutes of each other smashing into the World Trade Center."

"...President Bush has been informed of this incredible tragedy happening in New York. He did have an event scheduled at 9:00 this morning, which we were going to cover here, and he has just canceled that event. We expect he will have some comments fairly soon, and–"

"…New York under attack…"

These last words were what made Lacey move. She shoved her way through the hordes of students that had gathered in front of the TV, and rushed out of the building, needing air.

New York. Adam, Adam.

She reached into her purse and fumbled with trembling hands to take out her cell phone. She needed to make sure he was okay, or she'd never be able to make it home. Powering it on, Lacey forced legs of jelly to carry her to a nearby bench. When it finally finished issuing its greeting message and loading the icons, she hit the button to pull up the contacts. Just as she was about to use the arrow button to scroll down the A's…not that there were many…her thumb paused.

A voicemail icon flashed. But she ignored it. Her first priority was getting ahold of Adam, which she attempted by pressing Send to push the call through. She raised the phone to her ear with one hand and put the other to her mouth, nipping at her fingernails. The call was kicked to his voicemail inbox:

"Hello, this is Adam Banks, please leave a message after the tone and I will try to return your call."

Lacey instinctively placed her hand over her mouth and doubled over, feeling a sock to her gut and tears spring to her eyes at hearing his actual voice for the first time in nearly a year. How could he still do that?

"Adam," she spoke frantically into the phone. "Adam, I need to know you're okay. I know about New York, the towers, th-the planes and the fire and…smoke…and I need to know you're okay," she repeated. "Please call me. Right away, don't wait."

She pressed End Call, and sat waiting for close to five minutes. What was she expecting, that he'd ignore the chaos and return her call right away? And if she were to give him a few more, would he be able to push in if she took a minute to check her voicemail?

Her voicemail. What if…?

Not wasting another minute, Lacey pressed the buttons to open her voicemail and put the phone back to her ear.

"You have one new message."

She began jiggling her foot anxiously, but stopped, frozen like a statue, when she heard the message play back for her:

"Lacey it's me, um, I'm at…I'm at school and you know that but something just happened to the Twin Towers. I don't know what and I don't know where I'm going but just in case we…don't make it out of this…I love you. And I'm sorry for what I put you through."

Adam.

His voice was a little shaky and bore traces of fear, but she could tell he was trying to remain her measured, calm Adam.

Oh God, she couldn't.

Lacey let the tears erupt in a deluge as they streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her face, and all the while she clutched the phone to her chest, rocking.

Suddenly, Jeff appeared. "Lacey, God, I've been trying to find you! Isn't this horrible? They say the Pentagon was hit, too. I think somebody's behind this, maybe it's th–"

"I've got to go." Lacey finally summoned the strength to shoot up off the bench, looking around for a second as though trying to figure out what to do next. But wasn't it obvious?

Jeff stood watching her, dumbfounded.
"I'll…I'll see you later." She stumbled off the lawn and headed toward her car, which seemed to take an inordinately long time to reach.

She had absolutely no memory of the drive home, but was grateful she made it in record time.

There was no way Adam was going to be in trouble and not have anyone at his side. In all likelihood, the Bankses already knew about this too and were somehow on their way to him. But that wasn't good enough for Lacey.

She had to go, too.

Maybe she could catch them in time. It felt eerie to pick up the phone in the kitchen and press the digits to Adam's house, which she hadn't done in a whole year. Even Yvette's voice, when she picked up, sounded surreal. But that feeling immediately dissolved when she noted the woman's frantic greeting.

"Yvette…? It's me, Lacey." The Bankses had Caller ID, but it felt right to introduce herself after so long.

"Lacey, hi," Yvette replied, obviously very distracted.

"If you're going to New York for Adam, I want to go too." She cut right to the chase. "I know what's happened. And I want to be there."

Yvette let out a deep breath, and spoke again, this time tearfully. "I'm trying to figure out how to get there, but I can't. There doesn't seem to be any inbound transportation into Manhattan, and the outbound is congested and back up, and I don't know what to do…"

Lacey had to hold herself back from breaking down and crying. She knew Adam's dorm was close to Times' Square, and all she continued to see in her mind's eye was the entire building being leveled to ash, with him perhaps trapped in it. How would anyone know who he was? Would it even be possible to bring him back? Lacey wanted to sink to the floor and melt into a puddle of tears.

No. Do not go there. You don't know any of that yet. Act, don't think.

Lacey straightened her back and closed her eyes, trying to gather herself. "Have…have you talked to him…?"

"Yes, a few minutes ago," Yvette cleared her throat and sniffled. "He said he would try to come home or go to Dad's. But Dad is visiting a friend in Toronto. And besides, I just really want him home. I could hear screaming and noises in the background of the phone call, and he couldn't talk for long…he hung up quickly…"

"But you won't give up trying to find a way in, will you?" Lacey questioned, pleadingly.

"Lacey, it's so hard, but I think we just have to wait until he calls back to know what to do and where to go," Yvette answered, voice wobbly but calmer. "If we don't, we'll just get caught up in the madness, and he might make it home when we're out looking for him. Trust me. I want to go, to just drive there and raise hell until I'm let through. But Phil's always pragmatic, and he told me we have to stay stable and smart in this situation. For Adam."

Lacey blinked. The Bankses could do what they wanted, but she wasn't going to just sit home while Adam might be displaced, out on the street, with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

"I understand. Let me know if anything changes, please," Lacey finished the conversation, then hung up before Yvette could answer. It might be impolite, but what was the point dragging things out?

How could she get there? Lacey paced the living room, coming up with Plans A-F for how to get to Adam when Davy and Stuart came in. Davy, ever the sweet almost-brother, came to her immediately and pulled her into an embrace. He evidently knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Och, Lass, I'm so very sorry fer t'all. But 'e's likely t'be okay. We joos' 'ave to wait an' see," Stuart came close and counseled Lacey.

She wiped tears, pulling gently out of Davy's embrace and facing them both. "No. No waiting. I'm going now."

"Lacey, no," Davy cautioned. "You can't be serious about going into this mess. You don't know what else might happen over there. And if you're killed, then what? How would that help Adam?"

But she wasn't thinking rationally, and she knew it. She pressed ahead anyway, though. "I'm going. He said he's either going to try to come home, or to Grandpa Greg's. But if something happened to him, all that's a moot point now. I need to go find him."

Not even trying to reason with her again, Davy just stared wide eyed, then turned back to Stuart as though his father could say anything to change her mind.

Well, they wouldn't. Lacey picked up the phone after grabbing a pad of paper, a pen, and the phone book and sat down at the kitchen table to begin planning. She knew the flights were grounded, but there was always the train, even if it would take much longer. She could travel by car, but had the feeling she would be turned away soon after crossing over into Manhattan. And then what?

It had to be the train.

Lacey sat for two hours, making call after call. Most of the train stations she called informed her that all passages to New York City were canceled for today, and nobody seemed to have a clue about tomorrow.

"It'll all depend on things, Sweetie," a female switchboard operator informed her matter-of-factly. "There's just no guarantee of anything at this point. But personally, I wouldn't recommend buying a ticket. The only routes we still have open right now are to upstate New York. We have a Minneapolis to Albany, and…" Lacey could hear her shuffling papers around… "A Chicago to Albany, maybe?"

"I'll get there," Lacey replied, standing and grabbing her keys. "I'll be there in just a few minutes for a ticket."

She hung up the phone quickly, turning to see Davy's lanky frame hovering in the doorway.

"You're not going alone. I hope you know that," he challenged.

Lacey was in no mood for it. "Of course I am. I'm full grown, okay?"

But Davy stubbornly shook his head. "If I have to, I'm going to follow you and buy a ticket right behind you. If something happened, Lacey, you're going to need somebody with you that can keep their head on straight. Okay?"

Lacey wasn't used to cheerful, happy-go-lucky Davy being so serious, so protective. But it comforted her in a way she couldn't explain, and she found herself hesitating. "You would do that?"

He nodded resolutely. "Yeah."

Another thought occurred to Lacey. He was right, she did not want to face this alone in light of the horrible things that could have happened. "And Kristy," she said suddenly. "I want Kristy with me, too."

Davy paused a moment before nodding. "If she's willing to miss some school and pay for her ticket, sure. Or, heck, forget that. I'll cover her ticket. We're going to be with you, okay? And it's all going to be alright." He embraced her again.

You don't know if it was going to be alright or not, Lacey nearly argued. But else was there to do, really, but be optimistic as she moved forward? If Adam was alive, she would reach him. He would no doubt need some emotional support after witnessing something so horrific, as he surely had.

So Lacey straightened up, imagining iron in her backbone as Dr. Hemby had suggested to her for when she felt weak. And she picked up the phone to call Kristy. As she waited for her friend to answer her cell phone, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Adam, I'm coming. Please be where I can reach you. Because if you're gone, it will be something from which I will never recover.