FLY WITH THE ANGELS

He’s watching the Space Shuttle explode. The same horrifying scene over and over. It goes up then bursts into a million tiny pieces.

He’s got his finger on the rewind button and is mesmerized by the colorful display of destruction.

The only person he’s ever been in love with is waiting to take his chance and put his life on the line.

For a chance at that.

*************

He’s sitting in the machine, strapped in so tightly he can’t breath. Strange voices call out in Russian--then, moments later, the English translation.

“Begin.”

He holds on as his body is wrapped around and around, reaching G-Forces that make his stomach tense before emptying.

And when the machine slows and he thinks he can crawl out, the Russian voice echoes through the speakers again.

“Begin.”

He tenses once more as his world spins out of control.

***************

He stares at the proposal Lance left behind. The cruel taunt from Destiny Productions dangling a carrot in front of green eyes that are far too eager.

It’s anger and pain that make him rip the copy to shreds. A fear of losing Lance. A terrified emotion he can’t even begin to explain.

When Joey tells him to stop being immature and let Lance fly, he wants to punch him. Because Joey doesn’t get it. Joey is only Lance’s best friend.

He is Lance’s soul mate.

He ignores the phone because Lance isn’t supposed to call him--at all.

Those are the rules.

And he’s decided the rules suck already.

**************

His eyes are bloodshot. Not from drinking or staying out too late--not this time. Now they are red from no sleep and tests that push his body to limits he couldn’t have imagined. Now they sting from vomiting and being poked.

He cradles the phone in his hand and hides in the bathroom. “Pick up,” he whispers.

His eyes peer under the stall for any sign of the maddening torture crew that follows him everywhere. All is quiet and all he wants is to hear Justin’s voice.

But not even the answering machine picks up.

And he wishes they hadn’t argued before they went their separate ways in Texas.

*****************

He stares at the screen with wide eyes. Reports fluttering in about how Lance is doing. No one calls him directly though. They think he’s too fragile. They think he’s too sensitive. They think he and Lance are going to break up over this.

He searches the internet for hours until his eyes are as red as Lance’s.

Then he starts to cry.

And searches for plane tickets to Russia.

So he can bring his boy back home--kiss him until dawn and tell him a million reasons *why* this whole thing is so bad.

*******************

He tries to think about why he’s doing this. He knows it could all break down and most likely will. He knows they’re using his name to support their own agenda--their own profitable business venture in space tourism.

“Ready Lance?”

He’s got to take the chance, he knows, push on the very small chance it’s all for real and they let him fly. Because for years he’s ached to do it. It’s history. It’s dreams. It’s being a little boy in the backyard on a hot summer night staring up into the black sky longing to see the Earth from the stars.

“Ready,” he says weakly, hoping his body holds up just a little longer. If he can just make it past these tests, he thinks, then he’ll be alright.

He tucks his cell phone back in his pocket and exits the bathroom wishing he could have talked to Justin.

Because he can’t seem to remember the feel of Justin’s mouth on his.

*********************

“I don’t really want to go,” he says. His sweats slide down his hips and he tugs at them absently. “I’m not in the mood.”

“J, we’re worried. Come on. Let’s take the bikes. We’ll get C and Joey and...”

He shakes his head and doesn’t bother to close the front door. Slumping back in Lance’s favorite leather chair, he sighs.

“You can’t just sit here, man. You gotta let him do this. You gotta...”

He sticks his hand up and glares. “I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything, Chris. I’m in fucking love with him and he’s putting his life on the line for what? For some dream. He can wait for NASA. It’s only a few more years before the open it up. But no! He’s gotta do this to be one of the firsts. He’s gotta do this to be the youngest so no one snakes him. He’s gotta do this despite us!”

The phone rings again and he reaches over, tired of hiding.

“What?”

*************

He’s back in his room, more tired than he’s ever been. They gave him medicine to test every level imaginable and his body is littered with needle marks.

He hears Justin’s curt voice pick up the phone and cringes. For a moment, he contemplates hanging up because it seems like he can only make it worse. For a moment he wishes he could just be the man Justin wants him to be.

But then his heart swells and his throat tightens. And he realizes that he’s nothing without Justin.

“I love you,” he chokes out. “So fucking much and I’m sorry.” He almost shatters but his thumb and forefinger press the bridge of his nose, holding the burning sensation at bay.

Everything begins to sting where they stuck and prodded him, and he longs to sink into Justin’s arms, curl against his neck and sleep.

And he longs for forgiveness.

*************

He thinks he might want to hang up, only that deep voice sounds as lost as a child, so he doesn’t.

“Why’re you sorry?” he asks. “You’re doing what you want to do, man. You’re doing what...” His voice cracks and he clears it, straining for composure. “...what you have to do.”

He hears the soft breath travel across the line, the breath he’s so accustomed to pressing against his ear.

Still, his heart wrenches at Lance’s voice, and he thinks he should have booked that flight. But they wouldn't let him in to take Lance.

The rules and all.

**************

He doesn't like the severity of Justin’s tone--it makes him feel worthless and wrong for wanting to dream. So he straightens and pushes the pain back inside of him. He thought maybe he could let his physical and mental anguish out and have Justin soothe him--but he realizes that can’t happen.

“I’m not supposed to be calling,” he whispers sadly. “I guess I gotta go.”

He waits for Justin to stop him.

But Justin doesn’t.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you in Denver.” He waits for more, but Justin only says a tight ‘fine’ before the line goes dead.

He stares at the phone for a long time before his eyes beg for rest. It’s almost too much to make it to the bathroom, but he does, and when he urinates, it burns because they stuck things everywhere.

And he wants Justin to make this all right.

***************

“Let’s go,” he says, changing quickly. He needs to feel the air slapping Lance away from him. Slapping the guilt he has and the memory of hearing that ache in Lance’s voice.

Soon he’s on his bike, with Joey hanging onto his waist, zipping through the Orlando streets--destination unknown.

Joey chatters endlessly about inane things which he’s thankful for. But no one mentions Lance, which he’s not thankful for.

After all, Lance is their friend. It’s not like he doesn't understand that.

The pizza fills his belly and he passes on beer so he can drive home in one piece because Lance is a stickler for DWI ...

It clicks hard.

How Lance wants him to be safe, insists upon it, drills it over and over again, yet takes the chance to go into space without consulting him.

He drops Joey off and says good-bye to JC and Chris, then rides until he gets to the airport.

Once there, he books an expensive flight to Moscow and has no idea what he’s doing.

Only that he loves Lance more than anything, and to be at odds makes him sick.

************

The wake up call on is early and he cries inwardly. There isn’t a patch of skin on his body that doesn’t scream in pain.

There isn’t a patch of his brain that hasn’t been explored.

There isn’t a patch of his heart that isn’t broken.

The sun isn’t up yet and he struggles to dress in the standard uniform he’s been assigned. It’s the last day then a long flight to Denver for the show.

And to face Justin’s wrath.

Not to mention the possibility that he might be single again for wanting to follow his dreams.

“Enema day,” the cosmonaut assigned to him teases. “You’ll never be the same.”

He whimpers involuntarily because he’s already not the same.

The rickety elevator takes him down to the lobby and he can barely even stand up straight. He’s limping as he steps out and cameras flash in his face.

“Shit,” he whispers, forcing a bright smile. Questions fly at him and he looks around for his assistant. Or the rep from Destiny Productions. His eyes lift up and he sees Justin.

“Oh my God,” he cries, lunging forward.

**************

He doesn’t even recognize the green eyes that bolt toward him. It’s only been three days--five since they’ve kissed.

Media eagerly snaps the photo op and stunned bodyguards swarm to protect them.

“How are you here?” Lance asks.

“Plane,” he smiles, rocking back on his heels. Lance hugs him and he’s got the platonic hug down pat--they’ve had practice. But Lance’s lips brush secretly against his neck and he melts.

And he knows it’s not worth it.

“It’s your life,” he says when they back away from one another. “And your dream. I’m just...here.”

Lance blinks tiredly and he can see the exhaustion cradled inside. “I have to go,” Lance says quietly. “I can’t take you...with me.”

He nods and smiles brightly. “Then I’ll be right here when you get back. Right here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

*******************

The enema isn’t so bad because he knows Justin is waiting. In fact, nothing is so bad anymore. He breezes through the questions and interviews. And he only loses his lunch once when they test him for weightlessness.

He smiles for his ID card and focuses when they all sit down to plan for his return trip.

But he really just wants to be done now, head back to the hotel and sink into arms that can make his life turn on a dime.

Pushing past the media in the lobby, he hurries to his room and knocks.

Justin answers with no shirt and jeans that are unbuttoned. His feet are bare and he’s munching on some kind of fritter.

“You’re back,” Justin grins, stepping aside.

“I’m back,” he answers, kicking the door shut.

“I just worry,” Justin says, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. “I don't’ want to lose you.”

He smiles and kisses Justin’s neck. “You’re not going to lose me. Ever. If it’s not right, I won’t go. I’ll never risk it. I’m not that stupid.”

“And if they hurt you,” Justin starts.

“They won’t. I won’t let myself get hurt.” He nuzzles against Justin’s chest and sighs. “You make it right. I can do this as long as we’re alright.”

“Always,” Justin whispers into a kiss. “You can fly and I’ll be your grounding.”

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