Risorgimento Italian, from risorgere, to rise again, from Latin resurgere. By Kalimyre Rating: R Pairing: Colin/Ryan Summary: Bad news on the ‘Whose Line’ set... or is it? Author’s Notes: After reading Lori’s excellent story, ‘In the Arms of Angels,’ I just had to do one with a similar premise but a happier ending. Thanks go to Lori for the inspiration, and for the comments and suggestions. Thanks also to Shark, who made a very welcome return to the land of the living just in time to give this ficlet a quick and concise beta. * * * “Well, you like to see two women together, don’t you?” Wayne ducked his head, his cheeks growing a little darker at Greg’s question. “I guess,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed. “Sure you do. I bet ninety percent of straight men like to see women kissing, or having sex, or what have you. So why is seeing two guys doing the same thing so weird?” Wayne shrugged, picking awkwardly at the couch cushion he was sitting on. They were in a secluded lounge in Raleigh Studios, getting ready to start another taping season of ‘Whose Line.’ The taping wasn’t scheduled for several hours, but at the beginning of the season they all liked to get there early and talk, shoot the shit, and just generally get back inside each other’s grooves. “It’s a double standard,” Greg continued. “You know, women can handle it both ways?” “What do you mean?” Wayne asked, cocking his head. Greg grinned, pushing his glasses up on his nose and sitting forward a little more. Wayne thought that the man didn’t sit on a chair so much as perch on it, always thrumming with nervous energy. “Women,” Greg clarified, “have no problem seeing two chicks going at it, but they also have no problem seeing two men. In fact, most of them like it.” “They do?” “Sure. You ever seen that series on Showtime, ‘Queer As Folk?’” Wayne shook his head, suddenly glad that they were alone in the room for this conversation. Ryan had been there earlier, but he had disappeared a few minutes ago to go have a smoke, and Drew was sweet-talking some cute intern in his office. Colin had yet to arrive, but he was due in any time now. “Jennifer watches it all the time. Sometimes I watch it with her, and I’m no prude, but I’ve gotta admit that shit disturbed me greatly the first time I saw it. It’s... graphic. And very, *very* gay.” Wayne laughed uncomfortably, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “And you’re saying women like that?” Greg nodded, grinning as if to say: ‘Women! Who the hell understands them?’ “Well, I know Jennifer loves it. And it’s logical, if you think about it. Straight guys like to see women together; straight women like to see guys together. It’s a kind of balance.” “I guess that makes sense,” Wayne said musingly. “Sure it does. Why do you think Laura and Kathy were so happy for Ryan and Colin when they told us? While we were all trying to pick our jaws up off the floor, they were hugging them and telling them how great it was.” “I’m happy for them too,” Wayne asserted defensively. Greg leaned back, putting his hands up and nodding. “Of course, and so am I. How can you not be happy for two people who are so obviously in love? I mean, every time they look at each other it’s like you can see ‘tilt’ written across their foreheads.” “Yeah, that’s for sure,” Wayne replied with a smile. “And if it makes them happy, then I’m all for it. I just wish they wouldn’t make out in front of me.” “We don’t.” Greg and Wayne turned quickly, and both of them winced when they saw Ryan’s lanky frame in the doorway. Greg tightened his lips and ran a hand through his hair, but Wayne stood up immediately, took a step toward the taller man, and then stopped, as he seemed to think better of it. “Ryan---“ he began awkwardly. “We may *kiss* in front of you,” Ryan continued as if Wayne hadn’t spoken at all, “but we don’t make out. Believe me, if we did, you’d know it.” “I didn’t... I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Wayne. I know you’re still getting used to the whole thing, and hey, if it really bothers you, Col and I can try to keep the PDA down a little.” Wayne shook his head rapidly. “No, no, you shouldn’t have to do that. And I ought to be used to it by now, considering that you told us nearly six months ago.” “I was just explaining to Wayne why women like to see two guys in a relationship,” Greg chimed in, cutting through the heavy moment. “Oh?” Ryan inquired, turning his attention to Greg even as he slung an arm around Wayne’s shoulders. It was his tacit way of saying that no apology was necessary. Wayne couldn’t just let it go by, though, and he looked up at Ryan with an earnest expression on his face. “I really am happy for you two, you know. It’s obvious how great you are together.” “Yeah,” Greg sighed, coating his voice with sugary sweetness. “I don’t even know why we were surprised when you told us.” Ryan shrugged, grinning widely and without a trace of embarrassment. “Hell, *we* were even surprised when we finally figured it out. It still surprises me. I am frankly amazed at how wonderful it is. It’s like unwrapping a gift every day.” Greg coughed uncomfortably, rolling his eyes. “And now, stay tuned for the Colin and Ryan Harlequin Romance Hour,” he intoned in his ‘TV announcer’ voice. Ryan opened his mouth to make a smartass remark, but Drew interrupted, entering the room with a stiff gait and a deliberately expressionless face. “Ryan?” the host asked in a tightly controlled voice. “Yeah?” “What flight is Colin coming in on?” Ryan’s eyes widened and he glanced quickly at his watch. “Oh, shit! I was supposed to be there already! He’s going to be landing any minute, I’ve gotta go.” He turned to leave, but Drew stopped him with a hand wrapped around his upper arm. The taller man looked down at him, confused, and Drew gave him a piercing stare, his face oddly defenseless without his customary black glasses. “What flight was he on? The *number,* Ryan. What was it?” Ryan blinked, and shook his head once, not wanting to go where Drew’s tone was taking him. “Why? What are you getting at?” “Just tell me, okay? It’s important,” Drew insisted, and behind them, Greg rose from his seat. Wayne stepped a little closer, his face that much darker without the blindingly bright smile that he usually wore. “Air Canada 1820 from Toronto to Indiana, and then United flight 351, Indianapolis to L.A. Same route he always takes,” Ryan answered slowly. Drew’s expression didn’t change at all, but Ryan winced and pried the other man’s hand off his arm, rubbing at the hurt place and frowning at him. “What the hell... that *hurt,* Drew. What’s going on?” “Are you sure?” Drew demanded. “Did you have it written down somewhere? Can you check and make *sure* that was the flight?” “I know it was the flight. He’s been taking that flight plan for the last five years. It has a stopover in Indiana long enough for him to grab some real food and a cigarette, and stretch his legs a little, and it arrives in L.A at 2:15 in the afternoon. Which was about five minutes ago, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I’m supposed to pick him up. I’ve got to get going!” Ryan started toward the door again, aware that Drew was trying to tell him something important, and probably something bad, but denying the possibilities that cropped up in his mind. Denying his mind permission to even *consider* those possibilities. “Ryan, wait,” Drew called, trying to grab at the taller man’s arm. Ryan dodged the touch, but he waited, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing impatiently. “What, Drew? Even if the flight is late, he could be on the ground any minute, and you know how long it takes to get through airport security now.” Drew looked up at him, and Ryan felt the first flutter of real fear in his stomach when he saw brightness in his friend’s eyes that wasn’t laughter. “He’s already on the ground,” Drew said quietly. When Ryan didn’t respond, Wayne stepped forward, catching Drew’s eye. “What does that mean?” he asked anxiously. Greg nodded, coming up behind Wayne and fiddling nervously with his tie. Drew sighed, rubbing absently at his eyes. “Come on, guys. There’s something you all need to see.” He led them into his office, where a television monitor was showing what appeared to be a shampoo commercial. Ryan gave him a skeptical look, and Drew flapped a hand at him, turning up the volume and telling him to wait. They waited. After a car commercial, an advertisement that might have been for jeans, although it was hard to tell, and an interminably long commercial for life insurance (at record low rates, call now and secure your loved ones’ financial independence!), CNN Headline News reappeared on the screen. An attractive woman in her thirties with carefully colored auburn hair looked gravely at the camera and introduced herself as Kyra Phillips. “Our top story this half hour, a commercial airliner crashed about fifty miles south of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Reports indicate that the crash occurred about an hour ago, and it has been confirmed that the plane was carrying passengers at the time. Details are still sketchy about what caused the crash, but there were radio reports of mechanical problems in the minutes before the plane began to go down. We have Sean Grayson at the scene with more. Sean?” The shot cut to a man standing on a windswept desert plain, with the smoking ruin of a commercial jet in the distance behind him. People dressed in bright orange jumpsuits were crawling over the wreckage, and the flashing lights of ambulances reflected off the haze of smoke in the air. None of the ambulances were moving. “Thank you, Kyra,” he began. “Behind me is what used to be United Flight 351, running from Indianapolis to Los Angeles. Almost eight hundred miles short of its intended destination, the flight developed mechanical problems and was forced to make a crash landing. We still don’t know the extent of the casualties here, but the damage is quite severe. As you can see by the smoke, there was a serious fire, perhaps before the plane actually landed. Information on survivors is...” He paused, cocking his head and pressing a hand to one ear. “Is what?” Greg prompted, gesturing at the TV as if the man could hear him. Beside him, Drew and Wayne nodded, staring at the little screen with wide eyes. Ryan was perfectly still, but his hands were clutching the back of Drew’s chair so hard that his knuckles were white. Sean turned back to the camera, his expression grave and sorrowful. “We have just received new information. The airline emergency response team is now certain that there are no survivors.” Behind him, the ambulances all turned their lights off, and began pulling away from the scene, one at a time. They moved slowly---almost reverentially. “Oh my God,” Drew breathed, dropping heavily onto the side of his desk. Wayne blinked at the floor, shaking his head silently. Greg just looked stunned. His mouth was working, but for once, he was rendered speechless. Ryan suddenly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began punching buttons fiercely. He was so focused that Greg thought his eyes were going to burn a hole through the little plastic device. “What are you doing?” Wayne asked weakly, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. He shook the hand off, not bothering to look at the other three men. “I’m calling Colin’s cell phone.” His friends exchanged a look. “Um... Ryan,” Drew began, but Ryan silenced him with a glance. Ryan’s huge hand dwarfed the little phone, making it look like a toy as he pressed it to his ear. It was ringing, and he quickly reached over and turned the sound on the TV off, wanting to hear Colin answer. Because he *was* going to answer. No question about that. After five rings, there was a familiar clicking sound, and then Colin’s voice. Ryan’s eyes lit up, and despite what they knew, the other three men felt a spark of hope. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe the news station had gotten the flight number wrong. Maybe Ryan had remembered Colin’s route wrong. It was voicemail. A cheery recording, telling everyone to “leave a message for me at the beep, and I’ll try to call you back. And by the way, if this is a certain Neon Love Chicken, I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again. Thanks!” Ryan hit the disconnect button without really being aware of it. He slowly lowered the phone, staring blankly at the image of the demolished plane on the screen. He thought that if he looked hard enough, maybe he would see Colin. Or his body. “Ryan?” Greg began weakly, putting a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ryan threw him off with a kind of negative hissing noise, still staring at the wreckage. There was no way he could see anything, of course. The emergency crew wouldn’t let the news people close enough to see those kinds of details, out of respect for the passengers’ families. But still... if he squinted really hard, then maybe... In a startling flurry of movement, Ryan hurled his cell phone at the television. The thick glass screen was unharmed, but the little plastic phone shattered, landing in a jumble of parts and popped out buttons, looking eerily like the downed airplane that was still being broadcast live. While the other three men gaped at him, Ryan turned on his heel and rushed out, his head down and his hands fisted at his sides. “Shit,” Greg muttered, watching the door bang resoundingly against the wall in the wake of Ryan’s passage. Drew started after him, but Greg put a hand in the center of the other man’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Let him go,” Greg advised. “Unless you want to end up looking like his cell phone.” “So... so that’s it?” Wayne asked softly. “He’s really... oh, God.” He slumped against the desk, and Drew sank down beside him, putting his arm around the young man’s shoulders. “This is... I don’t believe this,” Drew murmured. “They’re still looking for people,” Greg said, focusing on the TV screen. The men in the orange jumpsuits were still visible, scrabbling over the wreckage. Sean was talking again, but the volume was off and his words were inaudible. Greg reached out and flicked the sound back on, his trembling hand the only outward sign of his emotions. “...and the angle of impact indicates that the airplane was descending at an almost vertical drop---it was, in fact, falling out of the sky. The speed with which it hit the ground has not yet been determined, but considering the weight of the plane and the altitude from which it fell, the possibility of survivors is... well, an impossibility.” “Turn that fucking thing off,” Drew whispered, looking away. “Shouldn’t we watch it?” Greg objected, his hand hovering over the off switch. “I mean, in case they have news about some passengers, or a list of... of casualties---“ “Don’t you get it?” Drew snapped. “We don’t need a list. There is no news. Colin was on that plane, and everyone who was on that plane is dead. How much clearer can you get?” “But... but maybe...” Wayne put a hand on Greg’s arm, pulling him forward. He was standing, facing Drew and Wayne, who were sitting side by side on the edge of the desk. “Greg,” Wayne said softly. “Accept it. Colin is really... he’s...” He stopped suddenly, his voice choking as his face crumbled. Drew tightened the arm around his shoulders, and Wayne pulled Greg in, adding him to a kind of three way hug. Greg was aware that the other two men were crying, but he couldn’t seem to join them. He felt like he should, but... but that would make it real. “Look,” he said, pulling out of their grasp. “Let me just watch it for a while longer. I keep thinking that they’re going to come on and say it was a mistake. That they got the wrong flight number, or that they’ve found some survivors after all, and that he’s going to be one of them.” Drew looked at his old friend, the image of Greg doubling and trebling as his vision blurred. “Man... you know it’s not a mistake. They don’t make mistakes like that.” “Sure they do! News programs make mistakes all the time! Hell, you remember a couple years back when that presidential election between Bush and Gore was so damn close, and a bunch of newspapers ran headlines declaring a winner before it was really official? Shit like that happens all the time. And I just... I feel like we shouldn’t give up on him so easily, that’s all. I think we owe him more than that.” “Okay, Greg,” Drew replied softly. “If it makes you feel better, then watch. And I hope you’re right. I hope it is all a mistake.” Greg nodded and settled into Drew’s desk chair, watching the headlines scroll by on the bottom of the screen and waiting for updates on the plane crash. Wayne and Drew stayed where they were, their backs turned to the screen and their arms around each other’s shoulders. They both cried for a while, and at one point, Wayne said something that sounded like a prayer. Drew, not a religious man, nonetheless bowed his head and listened silently. Greg tried not to hear it. They were grieving, but he was sure that it was premature. They didn’t know for certain yet, and until they did, he refused to give up hope. “Um, hey,” Wayne said about half an hour later. “Shouldn’t we check on Ryan?” Drew cleared his throat, wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve like a little boy. “Probably. He must be devastated.” “It’s like unwrapping a gift every day,” Greg whispered, and for the first time, he felt his throat begin to ache as tears prickled at the back of his eyes. “What?” Drew asked, but Wayne nodded, taking Greg’s hand for a moment and squeezing it. “It doesn’t seem fair, you know?” Wayne said. “I mean, they only had those six months to be... to be how they were meant to be, and then this happens.” “It was longer than that,” Drew replied, his voice still rough and cracked. At Wayne’s questioning look, Greg added, “Yeah, of course it was. Six months ago is when they chose to tell us, but do you really think that before that, they were only friends?” Wayne nodded slowly, accepting the truth. It was like a riddle---once you know the answer, it’s obvious. “Still,” he said. “It’s not fair.” “Fucking right it’s not fair,” Greg muttered, and the tears poking at the back of his eyes started to make their way around to the front. “Hey,” Drew began, frowning worriedly. “You don’t think Ryan would... do anything, do you?” No one had to ask what he was talking about. “No, he wouldn’t do that,” Greg replied, but he didn’t sound sure. Not sure at all. ‘Like unwrapping a gift every day,’ he thought, and shivered, swallowing hard. Wayne stood and went to the window, looking out over the parking lot. “His car is still here... where would he go in the studio?” Greg suddenly snapped the television off, hitting the button with enough force to rock the little TV stand on its wheels. They turned to look at him, and he laughed---a sound that was suspiciously close to a sob. “Guess I was just fooling myself on that shit,” he said weakly. The first two trails of moisture slid down his face, and he tasted salt as one passed over the corner of his mouth. “Greg... it’s okay,” Drew replied, reaching for the other man. Greg walked into the embrace, and Wayne joined from the side, all three men ducking their heads like players in a football huddle. “What’s going on?” asked a voice from the doorway. They froze, and then turned as one, gaping at the man who had asked them the question. It was Colin. “Oh my God,” Drew breathed, taking a step forward. “Colin? Are you okay?” “Sure I’m okay.” Colin paused, narrowing his eyes and looking at them carefully. “What’s wrong? Are you... are you crying?” “We... we thought...” Greg trailed off, sniffing and wiping at his face in embarrassment. Wayne didn’t bother. He just wrapped the Canadian in a bear hug, partly lifting him off the floor in his enthusiasm. “Whoa, Wayne... okay, I’m happy to see you too, but what the hell is going on?” Drew and Greg exchanged a look, and then Greg took over, his voice more nasal than usual because of his recent crying spell. “See, Colin,” he began, “there was this... accident, and we thought that you...” Colin’s eyes widened, and he scanned the room in one quick movement. “Where’s Ryan?” he demanded. “Did something happen to Ryan?” Drew blinked at him. “Oh, no, Ryan’s fine. I mean... we think he’s fine. We were just going to go looking for him when you showed up.” “You don’t know where he is? And why wouldn’t he be fine? What are you not telling me here?” Wayne sighed and turned the television back on. The news broadcast was going over some sports highlights, but the plane crash story was coming up next, according to the little bullets on the side of the screen. Those bullets didn’t escape Colin’s eye, and he stepped closer, putting a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “What plane crash? What is that about?” “A commercial jet full of passengers crashed in New Mexico,” Greg replied, his voice carefully matter-of-fact. “About... I guess it’s two hours ago now. There were no survivors.” Colin frowned, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. “Well, that’s terrible, of course, but I don’t see why---“ Just then, the redoubtable Kyra Phillips reappeared on the screen, looking like her expression of grave sorrow had been professionally applied along with her makeup and hair color. “Latest information about the tragic crash of United Flight 351 indicates that the airline suspects some kind of deliberate sabotage to the airframe structure itself.” Then they cut to an interview with a nervous looking engineer who was holding a model of the plane and discussing how it had simply started to shake apart in the air, but Colin had stopped listening. He had gone very pale, and was simply staring wide-eyed at the screen. When they cut to another shot of the smoking ruin on the desert plain, he jabbed viciously at the off button, and then rubbed his eyes as if trying to scrub the images away. “We thought you were on that plane,” Drew said quietly, putting an arm around Colin’s shoulders. “I was,” he replied weakly. “Or... I was supposed to be. I always have that layover in Indiana, but this time the first flight came in late, and I went to the wrong gate because they changed the airport layout around, and it takes so damn long to get through security now... I ended up missing the flight. They put me on a different one that left just a little later.” “Thank God for that,” Wayne murmured, looking seriously at the older man. Greg nodded, and they all bunched a little closer to Colin, touching him in some way as if to verify his reality. Colin swallowed, putting a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. “Five minutes,” he whispered. “I missed that plane by five minutes... If I hadn’t gone to the wrong gate...” He swayed slightly, shuddering as a chill ran down his spine. “I think I need to sit down,” he said thinly. “Sure, of course,” Drew replied quickly, ushering the pale, staggering man to the couch. Colin sank into it, putting his face in his hands and taking deep breaths. He was trembling visibly, and he kept shaking his head, muttering ‘five minutes’ under his breath. Drew sat beside him, rubbing his back and looking at him sympathetically, while Greg stood back awkwardly. These messy emotional scenes were never really his strong point. Wayne looked like he wanted to join them on the couch, but it was a small piece of furniture, and he didn’t feel like trying to forcibly squeeze his way in. Instead, he looked out the window. “Ryan’s car is still here,” he announced, and Colin’s head jerked up. “Ryan! I... I need to see him. Did he think... I mean, did he see the news and think that I was...” “Yeah,” Greg replied. “He, ah... he was a little upset.” “If that was a little upset, then I’m a ‘little’ overweight,” Drew retorted, and then winced, realizing how that sounded. He turned to apologize to Colin, but never got the chance. Colin leapt off the couch like a shot and began to pace, his hands fisted and pressed against the soft place just below his ribcage. “Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice rising steadily. “You all found out about this what... an hour ago? And he got upset, and left, and you don’t know where he is? He thinks that I’m... that I was on that plane, and he’s been missing for an hour. We have to find him.” Colin paused, turning to face them, and his eyes looked like great dark holes in his pale face. “We have to find him right now.” “Okay, sure,” Drew said quickly. “I’ll make some calls, get all the techs and interns and crew guys looking for him---“ “That’ll take too long,” Colin interrupted, shaking his head. “This studio is huge. But... that gives me an idea.” He pulled out his cell phone, and had three numbers punched in before Greg put a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “If you’re thinking of calling Ryan’s cell, don’t bother. It’s... out of service.” Greg pointed to the scatter of plastic and electronics on the floor, and Colin swallowed. “He did that?” “Yeah,” Wayne replied. “When we saw the news on TV, he tried to call your cell, and I guess you didn’t answer. So he, ah... he threw his phone at the TV and ran out.” “I had it turned off,” Colin said softly. “You know how airlines are, they don’t want you having anything electronic running while they’re trying to fly. It interferes with their instruments or something.” “Yeah, well... I guess Ryan thought you weren’t answering because...” Greg trailed off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence---they all knew what he meant. “You don’t think he would... do anything, do you?” Drew asked anxiously. Colin just looked at him, biting his lip. “I hope not, Drew. God, I hope not.” “Don’t you know where he is?” Wayne asked. “I mean, don’t you two always know where the other one is? I thought you were... you know. It’s like you can read each other’s minds sometimes.” Colin laughed hollowly. “I wish I could read his mind. Hell, I wish he could read mine, and then he’d know that I was okay. I don’t know where he is, but... but maybe I can guess. If I got news like this about him, where would I go?” He fell quiet for a few moments, staring fiercely down at the floor and thinking so hard that Greg could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. The others let him think, all too aware of time passing. At this very moment, Ryan could be... No. Greg pushed the image aside. If Ryan had done... something... while he was crying like a baby and keeping the guys from looking for him... Never mind that the others were crying too. Never mind that they wouldn’t know where to look. If Ryan had tried anything, Greg knew that it would be entirely his fault. Beside him, Wayne and Drew had come to much the same conclusions about themselves. They all jumped when Colin suddenly looked up and drew in a deep breath. “My trailer,” the Canadian said. “He’d want to be around my things.” They didn’t question him. When it came to Ryan, Colin was the expert, no doubt about it. “Great,” Drew said, already heading for the door. “Let’s go.” They strode down the hallway in something that was almost a military formation, Colin taking point. He didn’t question his friends’ need to come along, even though his reunion with Ryan was likely to be a private moment. They needed to see that the tall guy was all right as much as he did. Colin tried his trailer door with a trembling hand and found it unlocked. “Ryan has a key,” he told them, and they all nodded quickly. “Go on,” Greg said impatiently. “Open it!” Colin turned the knob, and then paused, not pushing the door open. “What if... what if there’s something in there that I don’t want to see? What if he’s... oh, God.” He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head vehemently. “What if you prevent something like that from happening by going in there?” Greg shot back. “What if you arrive just in time?” “Yeah, hurry!” Drew encouraged, and then pushed the door open himself when Colin remained frozen. They all piled through the doorway, gathering in the little entrance to the trailer and sweeping Colin along with them. Ryan was immediately visible, sitting slumped on the couch with his head down. “Ryan!” Colin squeaked, and in his mind, he was shouting. What came out was only a thin whisper, though. Ryan didn’t move. “No,” Colin pleaded. “No, no, please be okay, please...” “Ryan,” Drew barked, for a moment sounding every bit the Marine he used to be. “He’s moving!” Wayne gasped, pulling them forward. And indeed, Ryan’s head was lifting, turning toward them. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and he seemed to be holding one of Colin’s shirts pressed against his face, his nose buried in the soft blue fabric. “Thought I told you guys to leave me alone,” he grated. “Didn’t I say to---“ He froze, his gaze finally catching Colin’s face. Ryan rose from the couch, the crumpled shirt dropping from his nerveless hand. One of Colin’s razor blades dropped from his other hand, but there was no blood. “Ryan,” his lover said quickly, and this time his voice was stronger. “It’s okay, it was a mistake. I wasn’t on that plane. I’m all right.” Ryan didn’t speak. He walked forward like a man in a dream, and the other three men drew back from Colin, giving them room. Colin met him halfway, stopping in front of him only when they were so close that the material of their shirts lightly brushed together in the front. Ryan raised one trembling hand and it hovered over Colin’s face, as if touching him would make him pop like a soap bubble. Colin reached up and took the hand, pressing his cheek into his lover’s palm and kissing the inside of his wrist. “Colin?” Ryan breathed, his voice small and broken. “It’s okay, Ryan. I’m really here, and I’m fine. I missed the flight, and I... I meant to call you, but I guess I... forgot,” he finished weakly, ducking his head sheepishly. “You... forgot?” Ryan blinked, shaking his head. “I thought... I thought you were *dead,* Col. Do you have any idea how that *feels?*” “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I hope I never find out.” Ryan glared at him for a long moment, and Drew actually took a step forward, ready to catch Colin if the taller man decided to follow through with the look in his eyes and knock him out. But then the anger evaporated, and Ryan’s face crumbled. “Oh God, Colin,” he moaned, and then he was clinging to the older man for all he was worth, squeezing the air out of him with a crushing grip and rocking him back and forth. Colin brought his own arms up and made the best soothing noises he could manage with the way Ryan’s arms were tightening on his chest. Wayne sighed happily, and Drew put an arm around his shoulders, slinging his other arm around Greg. The San Francisco native accepted the touch---unusual for him. Touchy feely stuff was not generally in Greg’s nature. “Looks like they’re going to be okay,” Drew murmured, smiling at his two friends, who were still clinging together and whispering things to each other. “Did you see that razor in his hand?” Greg asked quietly, and Wayne shivered. “Yeah, I saw it,” the young man replied. “Thank God we got here in time.” Ryan suddenly pulled back from the hug and framed Colin’s face in his hands. He kissed the shorter man fiercely, as if he was trying to taste the very life of his body, to dive inside him and never come out. Colin returned it just as hard, his hands buried in Ryan’s hair and his breath hitching in his chest. “Time to go,” Wayne muttered uncomfortably, looking up at the ceiling. Greg smirked at them, the relief in his eyes putting lie to the casual expression. “What did I tell you?” he whispered. “Might as well have ‘tilt’ written on their foreheads.” “Come on,” Drew said, turning toward the door. They nodded and followed him, filing out slowly, each man giving a backward glance to the two friends that they had almost lost that day. Five minutes, Greg thought, shaking his head. If Colin had been five minutes quicker... He pushed the thought away. Colin was fine now, and so was Ryan. “You never know, do you?” he asked, voicing his thoughts without being aware that he was speaking out loud. “Never know what?” Wayne asked. Greg looked at him seriously, a rare expression for the sarcastic comic. “You just never know when life is going to pull the rug out from under your feet. It makes me want to go home and hold my wife.” Wayne nodded slowly, his hand going to play with his wedding ring. “I know what you mean,” he said softly. “Makes me want to do the same thing.” Drew looked down at his hands wistfully, and Wayne clapped a hand on his back, giving the chubby host a reassuring smile. “It’s all about making every day count,” he said encouragingly. “Like unwrapping a gift every day,” Greg murmured, and the other two looked at him. He held their eyes gravely for a long moment, and then grinned sardonically. “So, do you think that Ryan is in there unwrapping Colin right now?” Wayne groaned, laughing in spite of himself, and Drew just shrugged, grinning cheekily. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” the host said. “Some things are just meant to be.” * * * Finis March 14 to March 15, 2003