JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 116

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JACK'S POV: 

Chris and I had to knock on Joey's door for a good couple of minutes before he would finally open it. When he did he tried to close it again immediately, seeing us in the hallway, and I jammed my foot in, thankful that I was wearing tough shoes. He was pushing so hard on the door I could have lost a toe. He glanced down at my shoe, and then back up at me, his face set in his permanent unreadable scowl, the expression it settled into if he wasn't smiling. 

"Go away," he said bitterly. 

"No," I answered. He was bigger than me, and if he really wanted to, he could have closed the door already. "Let us in." 

"Fuck off, Jack," he said, and Chris leaned up behind me. 

"Let us in," Chris said. 

"We just want to talk to you, " I said. 

"About stuff," Chris continued, and I fell into the rhythm of it immediately. 

"Important stuff," I said. 

"Important to us," Chris said. 

"And to you," I added. 

"Because you're important," Chris said. 

"Important to us," I said. 

"Because we care about you," Chris concluded. Joey looked like he wanted to cry. 

"Joey, I can play Chip and Dale with Chris all night if we have to," I said. "Let us in, please." 

He thought about it for a second, and then stepped away from the door, and Chris and I tumbled inside. Joey walked away from us, and I saw six or seven empty bottles from the minibar scattered on the coffee table in the suite. Joey stood over at the windows, not speaking, looking out at the city. While he'd kicked his shoes off, he was still dressed in what he'd worn to the party, and I wondered if he called Kelly and Bri before he started drinking. Chris caught me staring at the coffee table, and I wondered if Joey could see me in the reflection of the window. 

"Do you want a drink?" Joey asked quietly. "I think there's a couple bottles left in the minibar. If you want to wait, room service is on their way up right now with some Heinekens." 

"Joey," I began, not sure of what else to say. 

"They'll be here any second, " Joey said, not turning. "After all, if Nsync calls room service, you know they bust their asses getting up here." 

Before we said anything else there was a knock at the door, and Joey walked over quickly, pulling it open so fast the waiter outside almost dropped the tray. Six green bottles of beer glittered, dripping with condensation, and Joey dropped a hundred dollar bill on the tray as he swept up the bottles in his hands, kicking the door closed with his foot as the waiter called a thank you through the door. Joey set the bottles down on the coffee table haphazardly, and then popped the top off of one. Tilting his head back, he drained most of the bottle in one long chug as Chris and I watched. 

"Joe," Chris began, standing next to me. "Don't do this." 

"Why not?" Joey asked. Chris swallowed, looking to me for help. I had never seen Joey like this, and was guessing that Chris hadn't, either. 

"Because it won't make you feel any better," I said, crossing my arms. 

"Maybe I don't want to feel better," Joey said simply, finishing the bottle. He dropped the empty onto the floor with a muffled thump, and I fought the urge to go pick it up. Under stress, I always cleaned, and Joey was making a hell of a mess. "Maybe I shouldn't feel better. Did you think of that? Do you think Justin feels better? Do you?" 

"No, but at least he's not still sitting in the bathroom," I said, sitting down. Chris stayed on his feet, fidgeting back and forth from foot to foot, almost dancing. 

"Great. Wonderful," Joey said, popping open another bottle. He flipped the cap onto the carpet, and my eyes followed it down. I wanted to sit on my hands. "You're so right, Jack. He's not still in the bathroom." 

"Joey," I began, hearing his anger building. Maybe I wasn't the right one to head it off. 

"What?" he asked, taking a long swallow. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. Justin isn't still in the bathroom. Now I know why JC loves you, Jack. It's 'cause you're so fucking brilliant." 

"Stop it," Chris said sharply. "You're drunk, Joey, or getting there, and snapping at us isn't going to make you feel any better, either. Jack and I just want to help you." 

"Like I helped Justin?" Joey asked. "Like I took everything that he's afraid of, like I took the worst fucking thing that ever happened to him, and used it to bully him into doing what we wanted him to? Is that the kind of help my friends want to give me? The kind that Justin got from his friend Joey?" 

Before we could say anything else, Joey spun, and threw the bottle at the wall. It exploded, shards and suds flying everywhere, and I jumped, tensing. Chris and I watched Joey's back, and Joey stared at the wet spot on the wall as beer trickled down the wallpaper. 

"Justin thinks I hate him," Joey said quietly. "He has ever since the night it happened. He hasn't said it, but he doesn't have to. I know what I said to him, what I screamed at him, and that's why he shies away from me. That's why he doesn't talk to me anymore, and doesn't want to be near me, not even on stage. He thinks I hate him. And tonight, because of that, I knew that he would listen to me if I said that to him. He needed someone to be tough, to make him pull whatever's left out of himself, so that he could walk out of there, and I knew he would listen if I said it." 

"Joey, you said it yourself in the bathroom," Chris said. "Somebody had to do it." 

"I just, I wish it wasn't me, " Joey said, turning back to us. Chris was the big brother, the one who watched us all and stepped in where he thought we needed it, but Joey was the one who remained constant, always there with a hug and a little pick me up. I'd never seen him so unhappy. "I failed Justin. He's our baby brother, and I failed him, and I just keep doing it. I told him that he did it to Lance, but I keep doing the same thing to him. Every time he's down, I just kick him again, and I don't want to. I just, everything I do with Justin is wrong. I love him, you guys, and he thinks I hate him." 

"Joey, have you talked to him about it?" I asked, patting the couch next to me for Joey to sit. "I'm sure he'd listen. He did when Chris talked to him." 

"I can't talk to Justin," Joey said sadly, looking at the table. 

"Joey, I know it'll be hard, but we can do it with you," Chris offered. "Or you could go with him to his doctor." 

"You don't understand," Joey said, shaking his head. "I'm not afraid of talking to him. I know that it upsets Justin for me to be around him, but I know I could talk it out with him. I know I could apologize to him, and that he'd understand after we talked about it." 

"Then why can't you talk to him?" I asked. "Why haven't you tried patching things up?" 

"Because Lance won't let me anywhere near him," Joey answered, reaching for another bottle. He popped the top off as Chris and I glanced at each other. Chris, sitting on the back of one of the chairs, didn't seem to have any more answers than I did. 

"Joey, you can't really mean that," I said. I knew that Lance and Joey were having some kind of argument right now, and I had assumed it had something to do with the way Justin felt about Joey, but I didn't think Lance would deliberately keep the two of them apart. "I mean, Lance wants Justin to get better, too. Why on earth would he not want you around Justin?" 

Joey got up and started pacing again while we waited, his bottle abandoned on the coffee table. Finally he jammed his hands in his pockets and turned back to us. His face looked sad, and he stared at the floor, not meeting either of our eyes. 

"While you and JC were on your honeymoon, I did something really stupid," Joey said. "I know I should have talked to you guys, or Chris, before I said anything, but instead I went over to see Lance, and I, um, I fucked up." 

"How?" Chris asked. 

"I asked Lance to move out of Justin's and come stay with me," Joey answered. "I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for him to be there, and that he'd be better off at my house if he couldn't go to his own. I told him that I thought that Justin was using him, and that he'd end up getting hurt." 

"How could you say that to him?" I blurted, not thinking. "What did you think Justin was going to do to him?" 

Joey looked at me without answering, his face dropping even more. 

"Joey!" I said, stunned. "Justin couldn't do that to Lance even if he wanted to! He can't even do the choreography, for Christ's sake! What were you thinking?" 

"I didn't know!" Joey said, pacing again. I realized I wasn't being very helpful. 

"I'm sorry, Joey," I said quietly. I reached for one of the bottles, and twisted it open. Chris raised an eyebrow at me, but I was tired, and wanted a drink. I hated beer, but I just wanted to take the edge off. "I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"I didn't know how bad Justin was, then," Joey said. "I mean, after it happened, him and Lance barricaded themselves up in their cabin, and then they came back to Justin's house, and we didn't see them at all. I knew that Justin was hurt, but I didn't know that he was so fragile. I didn't know that he was like this, now, and I thought he was using the way that Lance feels about him so that he wouldn't be alone." 

"How does Lance feel about him?" I asked. "I mean, I know they're friends, and they're close, but is there, I don't know, do they love each other? Not like we all love each other, but, you know?" 

"I don't know," Joey said. "I think Lance always had a crush on Justin, even if he didn't realize it. Justin was right about that. Lance always did look at him, and follow him around. If Justin dyed his hair blonder, so did Lance. If Justin bought something, Lance would turn up three or four days later in the same shirt. He always said it was just that he admired Justin, and we all shrugged it off because, you know, we were all straight, then, but that's how Justin got him. That's how Justin hurt him, and I thought Justin would do it again, maybe not the same thing, but that Justin would, I don't know, take advantage of Lance somehow." 

"It's not like that, though, " I said, swallowing. The beer was bitter, strong, and I wondered why Joey chose to drink this when he could have room service bring up a bottle of rum or something. 

"I know," Joey said. "I know it's not. Lance needs someone to take care of, and Justin needs someone to take care of him. It's perfect for both of them." 

"And if they are in love, if it's more than friendship, I don't think either of them knows it," Chris said. 

"I really don't care if they are," Joey said. "I was wrong, and I admit it. Justin isn't like he was. He's not a manipulator anymore. He doesn't even have an ego left, and Lance, well, I've never seen Lance be this strong. If something was going on between them, I'd give them both my blessing. I just, I want to be their friend again. I want Justin to smile when he sees me. I don't want to see him almost cowering because I walk into the room, and I want to be Lance's friend again, too. He's my best friend, and I don't even know how to talk to him." 

"Maybe if one of us tried," Chris suggested. "I mean, Justin listens to me, and Jack and Lance are pretty tight. Maybe one of us can kind of, you know, nudge them a little." 

"Maybe we should just leave it alone," Joey said bitterly, turning back to the window. "After what I did tonight, after what I said to Justin, I don't think either of them wants to even know me, much less be my friend. I don't even want to know me." 

"Joey," I began, but he cut me off. 

"Could you guys go, please?" he asked, facing the glass. "I appreciate you coming by, I do, but honestly, I want to be alone, ok? I promise not to drink any more, or break anything, or kill myself. I just want to be away from everyone for a while, ok?" 

Chris and I looked at each other, and I nodded. 

"Yeah, Joey, we can do that, " Chris said, as I stood. "We'll see you tomorrow, ok?" 

Joey nodded, not answering. I looked at his back. 

"Good night, Joey," I said. "We love you, and we're here if you need us." 

He nodded again, and Chris and I left, letting the door close behind us. 

"I'm so tired of this," I sighed, running my hands through my hair. 

"I know," Chris said quietly. "I am, too. What the hell are we going to do?" 

"I don't know," I answered. "Are you still ok?" 

"Yeah," Chris answered, smiling. 

"One out of five isn't bad, then," I said, shaking my head. "Chris, what did Nick want?" 

"Not to have you strangle him?" Chris suggested, trying to cheer me up. 

"No, I'm serious," I said. "I mean, last time he saw Justin, he left him bleeding and crying, and didn't even try to get any of us to help him. He can't have dreamed that Justin would be happy to see him, so what did he want?" 

"I don't know," Chris answered. "I mean, I'm sure he wasn't planning on doing it again, even if Justin thinks he was, not in the bathroom at an MTV party. Maybe, I don't know, he wanted to see if Justin was ok? Or to apologize?" 

"Nick?" I asked, wondering if Chris had finished the rest of the beer while I wasn't looking. 

"OK, you're right," Chris agreed, taking my arm and tugging me toward Justin and Lance's room. "I should call Johnny before we go to bed, and tell him Justin was sick. He needs to know before the papers start calling in the morning." 

"And I need to get Josh to bed," I sighed. "He's taking this really hard." 

"He always does," Chris agreed. "He has you, though." 

Yeah, Josh had me. Neurotic, jealous, still prone to nightmares. He still had me, his own little personal part of the bigger problem. I pushed that thought away, knowing that it was only popping up because I was so tired and drained. If this was how I felt, God only knew what Josh was thinking and feeling. Maybe I shouldn't have left him alone in Lance and Justin's suite. It wasn't exactly a festive atmosphere. Chris and I tapped quietly at the door, not wanting to wake Justin if he'd finally fallen asleep, and Josh opened it slowly, looking very tired. As we walked in he hugged me, wrapping his arms around me and holding on tightly as he rested his head on my shoulder, and I held him as Lance stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door half closed behind him. 

"He's asleep, finally," Lance said. He looked exhausted, and Chris patted him on the shoulder. Lance smiled at him gratefully. "I'm going to go to bed now, too. Thank you guys for being here for him tonight." 

"We'll always be here for him, Lance," Josh said, his arms sliding off of me. He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and held on tightly. "And for you." 

"I know," Lance said, smiling. 

"Can we do anything for you?" I asked. "Do you need anything?" 

"Should we come by tomorrow?" Chris asked. "Maybe do a big breakfast or something?" 

"I don't know," Lance answered. "I don't know how he's going to be when he wakes up, you guys. I've never seen him like this, ever. He just keeps crying, like he can't stop. What if he's still doing it in the morning? This is what he's afraid of. He's built Nick up in his mind, built up this overwhelming fear of him coming back, and now Nick did, and it's my fault." 

"Lance, it's not your fault, " Josh said. "We all thought it was ok. We even checked the guest list. No one knew that Nick would be there." 

"But Justin shouldn't have been alone," Lance said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have let him go anywhere, not by himself." 

"Lance, what would you have done if you were there?" Chris asked. "I mean, honestly, he'd still have freaked even if he just saw Nick on the other side of the room. You did everything you could have, Lance. He reached out for you, and you were there. That's what he needed." 

"But it wasn't enough," Lance said, a tear trickling down his cheek. I let go of Josh and hugged Lance, and I felt Josh and Chris wrap their arms around him, too. "I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I could have done anything, but I should have been there. Nick touched him, he touched him. He had his, his filthy, he had his fucking hands on Justin and I should have been there!" 

"Shhh," I soothed. Jesus. Everyone felt like they failed Justin tonight. "Lance, it's ok." 

"It's not ok," Lance said, tears still trickling down his face as he held me, cradled by all three of us. "I promised to protect him. I promised to watch him, and take care of him, and always be here for him, and I turned my back for a second and Nick got to him!" 

"Come on," I said, tugging him toward the couch. "Come sit down." 

Josh and I sat down with Lance on the couch, Josh reaching for tissues, as Chris went to the bathroom for some water. Josh handed the box to Lance, and he swiped at his eyes with them, breathing deeply to get himself under control. 

"I'm sorry," Lance said, wadding up the tissues. 

"Don't apologize," Josh said. 

"Nothing to be sorry for," Chris added, handing him the water. Lance nodded at him, swallowing. 

"I'll ask again, Lance," I said. "What can we do?" 

"We'll be ok," Lance said, patting my knee. I didn't miss the "we", and when I glanced at Chris I saw that he'd caught it, too. "Maybe we should all just get some sleep. I'll call you guys in the morning and let you know how he is, ok?" 

"OK," Josh said. "Do you want one of us to sleep over here? On the couch?" 

"No, no," Lance said. "That's ok. Chris, you have Vlada over there in your suite, and JC, you only have tonight and tomorrow night with Jack before he flies out again. We'll be ok over here, but thank you. I know you guys are here if I need you, or if Justin does." 

"I guess we'll call it a night, then," Chris said walking toward the door. Josh and I followed, casting one last look back at Lance, who was untying his shoes. "Good night, Lance." 

"Good night, guys, and thank you," Lance said. 

"Lance, if we have to cancel tomorrow, we can," Josh said, pausing at the door. 

"I'll ask, but I don't think he will," Lance said. "It's all he has to look forward to." 

Josh nodded, and we left without saying anything else. We bid Chris a good night, waving to Vlada, who was sitting on the couch in the suite in a long, old fashioned silk nightgown, waiting up for him. She smiled at us, and Chris was already reaching out for her as the door closed. Josh and I walked into our suite and began tossing clothing onto the floor haphazardly, both so tired that we just wanted to crawl into bed. We brushed our teeth, bare shoulders sliding against each other as we crowded around the sink, and then we switched off the lights and slid into the large bed. We slid close to each other, not speaking, and ended up face to face on one pillow, my hands brushing Josh's hair back, and his rubbing my shoulders. 

"Are you ok, Josh?" I asked. "Was it really bad?" 

"Kind of, but not the way you're thinking," Josh answered. He sounded so sad, and so tired. I remembered what he'd told me last night, about being exhausted, and wondered if all of this might be too much for him. "He just cried and cried, until he fell asleep, and it's not, it's almost abnormal crying, Jack. He doesn't sob or anything. He just cries, like he doesn't even know he's doing it." 

"It's ok, baby," I whispered, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "Someday this will all be ok. Until then, I love you, Josh." 

"I love you, too," he whispered. I leaned over to kiss his cheek, and he turned a little, catching my lips with his. My hands were still on his face, holding him, and his slid up my shoulders to my jaw, holding me as well. He kissed me again, and again, little, feather light kisses. "I love you." 

"Josh," I sighed, not sure if we should do this. Both of us were still so emotionally unsteady at the moment, but maybe this was what Josh needed. His kisses got a little harder, a little more passionate, his lips pressed firmly against mine. I felt his tongue press into my mouth as he rolled me a little, stretching his warm, lanky body on top of mine. 

"I love you," he whispered again in the darkness, sliding smoothly against me. 

His chest pressed against mine, and I ran my hands up and down his sides, feeling the soft, velvet feel of him, the glide of his toned, perfect muscles under all that delicious, supple tan. One of his hands slid down onto my chest, his palm flat, and he rubbed it back and forth between my pecs, feeling my heart beating, before sliding it to the side, brushing it over my nipple. He slid it lower, still pressing lightly, as I slid my hands around to his back, running them over the his smoothly rounded shoulders. His hard cock was digging into my hip, poking, prodding at me in his urgency, and his hand slid down over my abs to wrap around my equally hard cock. He squeezed it tightly, and I groaned into his mouth, almost choking on his tongue. His hand slid lower, kneading my balls for a second, rolling them carefully, and then I felt his fingers tracing a circle around my hole. 

"Please, Jack," he panted, circling, not touching me there yet as I felt all of my nerves waking up and singing. "Can I make love to you?" 

Josh was always careful, always reverential and tender when he touched me, even when I urged him to be rough, but he sounded so soft, so romantic then, that my heart melted. His voice was low and husky, a voice made for pornography, and it sent shivers racing down my spine. He was still kissing me, nuzzling at my neck now, but he still hadn't slipped a finger inside, and the anticipation was killing me. His other arm lay still at my side, waiting for me to answer him. 

"Yes, Josh," I panted, my hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him toward me, trying to get as much of him to touch me as possible. "Yes, please make love to me, please." 

"Since you said please," he said, grinning in the darkness. He reached toward the nightstand, looking for the lube, and a few interminable seconds later I felt it on his fingertips. 

"I love you so much," I panted, my fingers curling, the tips digging into his back, as he opened me, getting me ready. He pressed a condom into my fingers. "Open that for me?" 

"Love to," I answered, moaning, my hips rolling up toward his hand. 

I fought to catch my breath, my body on fire beneath his hands. He shifted a little, pushing my knees gently apart with his, and I slid my feet up and down his calves, feeling them flex as he moved, feeling the soft golden brown hair there. I felt his thighs, long and lean, flexing against mine as he pulled himself up, and my hands dropped down, squeezing his cock as he had mine earlier. He sighed against me, and smashed his mouth down onto mine, humming into me, as his tongue dipped around my mouth, sliding over my teeth and against my own tongue. I rolled the condom down over him, feeling his shaft jump and throb in my hands, and when he shifted again I felt the wide, firm head of his cock pressing against me before he popped inside, sliding gently forward, only giving me a little at a time. As he pressed in, a slow roll of pleasure, his tongue continued to push into my mouth, penetrating me as well, and then I felt his slick, lube coated hand wrap wetly around my cock. 

As Josh began to pump into me, slowly rolling his hips like he was dancing, moving and shifting above me, he fisted my cock in time to his movements. He bit and chewed at my mouth with his, urgently consuming me, but his movements into me continued to be slow and tender. With it being the second night, the urgency had been taken off, and we had time to be tender with each other, to revel in each other's bodies and in our love. I ran my hands up and down his back, over his ribs, across his lats, and traced the curve of his spine. His legs flexed against mine, his abs constricting in a rolling flex as my cock brushed against them, guided by his slippery hand. With his other hand he continued to hold the back of my neck, keeping my head turned toward him, rolling it around as he dove beneath my chin, finally, to bury his mouth against my neck. 

It seemed to go on for hours, our dance of flesh, but it couldn't really have been that long. My whole body was on fire, burning everywhere that Josh touched me, and I thought my eyes were going to roll back into my head. Both of us were covered with a light sheen of sweat, but that just seemed to make him glide over me even more lightly, maddeningly, and my own hands slid down his back again to grab his ass, pulling him against me, silently urging him onward. He ignored my hands, going at his own pace still, as if determined to prolong this as much as possible. After a while, though, the inevitable happened. We both began to speed up, breathing a little harder, moans getting a little higher and sharper, and finally I felt Josh's body tighten beautifully above mine as he yelped into my mouth and his hips jammed against mine. A few seconds later I spilled into his hand, and after we both caught our breath he cleaned us off, tossing the tissues sloppily to the floor. 

"I love you," he panted again, nuzzling against me, cradling me softly against him as he kissed the back of my neck. "I'm so lucky to have you." 

"I love you, too, Josh," I sighed, letting him spoon against me, lost in the feeling of all that skin on mine. 

My sleep was calm and dreamless, and I hoped everyone else's was, as well. 

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CHAPTER 117

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JACK'S POV: 

When I woke up Josh wasn't in bed. I climbed out, looking around, and pulled on a hotel robe as I quietly opened the connecting door to the suite. Josh had his bare back to me, sitting on the couch in the suite in a pair of his boxer briefs, his headphones clapped over his ears as he played the keyboard set out on the coffee table. A notebook was open next to the keyboard, a pen lying on a page covered with lots of words crossed out and scribbled spots. He was probably working on something, but sometimes when he was upset he just played, and if I was sleeping he always put his headphones on, unless we were at home. If we were in the house, he just closed the bedroom door and pounded away on the piano downstairs. I didn't want to bother him if he was in his zone, so I stepped back into the bedroom, closed the door, and picked up the phone. 

"Hi, good morning," I said. "Could I get a pot of coffee, a pot of hot water and some tea bags, some honey, a carafe of orange juice, and some fruit? Like some apples and oranges, or bananas or something? Thanks so much." 

I wanted to talk to Josh, and a little fruit wouldn't spoil his appetite if we did end up having breakfast with the others in an hour or two. I grabbed him a sleeveless t-shirt from the dresser, smiling at a family picture and a shot of the two of us from our honeymoon, that day we had gone rollerblading around Bowie. Until we went there I always thought the name of the town was "Buoy", like the things that marked boundaries in the water, because that's the way Josh pronounced it, and it wasn't until we got there and I saw the way it was spelled that I realized there really was a Maryland accent after all, and not just a generally southern one. I pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, and washed the sleep from my face in the bathroom, rinsing out with some mouthwash to counter morning breath. Walking to Josh, I dropped the t-shirt into his lap, and leaned down. He smiled up at me, his hands reaching up to take mine, and I kissed him on the forehead. 

"Be a good boy and put that on," I said, knowing that he wouldn't want me jerking the door open with him just sitting on the couch in his underwear. My timing was impeccable, and I heard the knock at the door as he pulled off his headphones and tugged the shirt down. 

"Thank you," I said, taking the tray from the room service guy and handing him a tip. I turned, and saw that Josh had closed his notebook, clearing a space for the tray on the coffee table. 

"What's this?" he asked, smiling as he looked at the tray. 

"Your wake up call," I said, sitting down next to him. "Good morning, sweetie." 

"Good morning," he said, pulling me in close for a kiss. We kissed softly for a few moments, lips brushing each other, eyes closed. The stubble on both our chins scraped a little, but I was ok with it. I reached for a cup and began to pour myself some coffee as Josh put his tea together, pressing on the bag with his spoon and reaching for the bowls of honey packets and lemon wedges. 

"How are you feeling this morning?" I asked, glancing pointedly at the keyboard. He used it a lot when he wasn't upset, too, but I figured that after last night he was probably trying to cope. 

"Better," he answered. "I'm still kind of upset, and worried about Justin, but I feel a little better, too, having you here. You scared me last night, Jack." 

"I did?" I asked, sipping my coffee. Josh removed an orange from the small basket of fruit, and began to peel it. "What did I do?" 

"When you fought with Nick, you scared me," he said, glancing at me. My eyes met his over the top of my cup, and I saw that he still looked sad and tired, even if he did say that he felt better. "I've never seen you angry like that. For a second it was like I didn't even know who you were. You were just, I don't know, so mad, and your face. I've never known you to be like that. I didn't know you could be." 

"I've never known myself to be like that, either," I answered. "I mean, even when I was with Basil, and, you know, I had the frying pan, even then I didn't feel like that. I don't remember anything from last night, Josh. I remember seeing Nick, and then I remember Joey pulling me off of him, but I don't remember anything in between." 

"Are you ok?" he asked, sectioning his orange onto a plate. His fingers, long and delicate, neatly separated it, arranging the sections into a fan as he peeled them off one by one. 

"Yeah, I think so," I answered. "I just, I was so angry when I saw him, and I saw Justin on the floor." 

"I know," he said. "I was, too. For a second, though, I was just frozen, like I couldn't think at all." 

"Don't worry," I said, smiling, trying to break the mood. "I wasn't thinking, either." 

Josh smiled, patting my hand, and began to eat his orange. I watched the first section disappear into his mouth, a little bit of juice glistening on his lip, and realized that I wanted an orange, or Josh's lips. Maybe both. I licked my lips, watching him lick off his fingers, and realized I wanted to push him down onto the couch right there, coffee be damned. 

"I'm so glad you were here," Josh said suddenly. "I mean, I don't know what I would have done last night, if I didn't have you here to hold. You mean the world to me, Jack. When I feel like all of this is too much, when I feel like I'm drowning, you're always here for me to hold onto." 

"I always will be," I said, taking his hand. I licked his fingers carefully, sucking one into my mouth, and he sighed, watching me with his mouth hanging open a little. His own tongue, pink and soft, darted out to wet his bottom lip. 

"Jack," he sighed, watching me as I nursed on his finger, pressing my lips around it, darting my tongue over it. "What are you doing?" 

"You don't like it?" I asked, letting his finger slide out of my mouth, kissing the end of it as I dropped his hand back onto his lap. 

"I like it fine," he answered, caressing the side of my face with his hand, still holding his tea with the other. I turned my head a little, kissing his palm. 

"Josh, I want to tell you something, and I don't really know how," I said, pulling his hand down to hold it in mine. "I'm just going to blurt it out, ok? I'm going to ask Chad not to schedule me any more speaking engagements until the tour is over." 

"Jack, I can't ask you to do that," Josh said, squeezing my hand. I knew that he wanted me here, but I also knew that he wanted me to be happy. 

"You're not asking me to," I said, shaking my head. "I'm telling you. This is what I want." 

"But it means so much to you, " Josh said. "You love it so much, I don't want you to give that up." 

"I'm not, Josh, not permanently," I said. "I have the one in Boston tomorrow night, and the one in Atlanta next week, and then I don't have any more scheduled. I'll finish those two, and then I won't schedule any more until after the tour. That way I can stay here, with you, and then when I start again, you can come to the speeches with me, and we won't be separated. I know you won't ask me to do this, but you need me, and it's more important to me that I be here for you. My stuff can wait." 

"Jack, I'm not going to pretend I'm not happy about this, but," he began again, and I silenced him with a kiss. 

"This is what I want, Josh," I said. "I love you, and I want to be with you." 

"I love you, too," he said, kissing me again. He pressed his mouth to mine, his eyes closed, and I sucked at his bottom lip, listening to him whimper a little. When we broke apart, his blue eyes were glassy, and his lip glistening and red. 

"Wanna shower?" I asked coyly, offering him my best set of bedroom eyes. 

"Hell yes," he answered, setting his tea cup down and grabbing my hand. We trotted, giggling, into the bathroom. 

---

LANCE'S POV: 

Lance peeked into the bedroom again, checking on Justin, but Justin was still asleep. He looked so peaceful when he wasn't dreaming, so calm, like nothing bad had ever happened to him, or ever would. His eyes were closed, his hair, though short, still a little messy, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath him and the other draped possessively over Junior. Junior looked at Lance, waiting to see if Lance was coming back to bed, his tail thumping a little, but he didn't move from Justin's side. Lance had started the night in his own bed, not sure if Justin would want anyone close to him, but he woke up in the middle of the night, hearing Justin pleading in his sleep, begging Nick not to, please not to do that. Lance walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge, wondering what he should do, and Justin reached out, pulling Lance down. He was still asleep, but he held onto Lance, as if he knew, even in his sleep, that Lance was here for him, and as soon as Lance laid down alongside him, cradling him tightly, Justin's whimpers had subsided. 

"It's ok, buddy," Lance whispered to Junior, making a "stay" motion with his hands. "Go back to sleep." 

Junior settled his head back down onto Justin's hand, but his eyes stayed hopefully open, and his tail kept wagging. Lance smiled, shaking his head, and backed slowly out of the room, knowing that Justin would probably sleep for another hour or two with the pill in him. Although he had been drinking pretty heavily at one point, Justin had never turned to drugs, for which Lance was thankful, but the downside was that Justin had no resistance to them. One sleeping pill could knock him down for the whole night and most of the next day, which was why they used them so sparingly. Justin didn't like the groggy, drowsy feeling it left in him, but Lance didn't think Justin would have been able to sleep last night without one. 

Lance called Chris and Vlada, and then JC and Jack, and after reassuring all of them that he was fine, and everything was quiet, he let them know that Justin was still asleep, and that they probably wouldn't be doing breakfast, because he wanted Justin to get a lot of rest. After he hung up, he thought about taking a shower, but he didn't want to get in and then have Justin wake up alone. He could have left the door open, but then there was the risk that Justin would see him naked. While it wouldn't have bothered Lance much, since the guys had all seen each other naked at some point or other, he was pretty sure it would upset Justin, so he decided to just read, and wait. As soon as he sat down, though, he heard someone knocking softly at the door, tentatively. If he hadn't been in the suite room, he might not have heard it at all, but he decided to answer it anyway, figuring that it must be one of the guys coming to check on them despite his calls. Smiling good naturedly, knowing they meant well, he opened the door, and almost slammed it closed when he found Joey in the hallway. 

"What the fuck do you want?" Lance demanded, standing in the doorway. Joey blinked in surprise at his tone and his words, neither of which seemed at home in Lance's mouth. Lance shook his head before Joey could answer, and started to swing the door closed. "Never mind. I don't care what you want. I've already heard everything you have to say." 

"Lance, please," Joey said, putting his hand on the door. Lance pushed against it. "I just want to talk to you." 

"I don't want to talk to you, " Lance said, pushing on the door with one hand. His face tightened. 

How could Joey even come here, show his face anywhere near Justin, after what he'd done to him last night? When they had agreed to go through with the tour, they had all agreed to be here for each other, to remember that they were brothers, and even if Justin had kept his distance from Joey, Lance thought Joey respected that, by giving Justin the space he wanted, and not confronting him about the distance Justin kept between them. Lance had helped Justin by kind of serving as his defensive block, keeping Joey from getting too close until Justin wanted him to, because it was Lance's job to protect him, but he never expected Joey to do something like he'd done last night. Joey might call himself Justin's friend, but a friend would never have done that to him, never would have hurt him again that way. 

"Lance, please, I just want to talk to you," Joey said quietly. "I want to explain, and if I have to do it by screaming through the door, I will, but I don't want to. Please, could you pretend that we're still friends? Could you act like you're still my best friend, and that we're just going to talk to each other like we used to?" 

Lance didn't answer Joey directly, but he stood aside, holding the door open. As Joey stepped in, Lance glared at him, waiting to see what he would do. Joey looked toward the bedroom door, and started to walk toward it, wanting to check on Justin and see if he was ok, but Lance's voice, steel scraping across concrete, halted him in midstep. 

"Stay away from him!" Lance said sharply. In the bedroom, Junior whimpered, and Justin twitched in his sleep. "You've done enough to him. Let him rest, and leave him the hell alone. If you wake him up, I swear, so help me God, Joey." 

"I won't wake him, Lance," Joey said, shaking his head. "I don't want to hurt him, I don't. I know you don't believe that, but it's true. Can I sit down?" 

"Fine," Lance said, crossing his arms. "Just say whatever it was you came here for." 

"Lance, I know you're upset about last night," Joey began, but Lance cut him off. 

"Upset? Upset?" Lance snapped, angry, but still keeping his voice low. He didn't want Justin to wake up and find Joey here, not until he had a chance to see how Justin was, and what he was feeling. "You hurt him! He was on the floor, scared, and alone, and he needed his friends, and instead you threatened him. Do you know what it's like to feel like he does? To feel like everyone is looking at you, and everyone knows what happened to you? To be that ashamed of what happened, of something you couldn't stop, something that hurt you so much? You can't tell me you do, or you never would have said that to him." 

"Lance, what I said, it wasn't something I wanted to," Joey said miserably. "I just, I knew that it was all he would listen to, and I knew that if I said it, he would listen to me, because he'd believe that I would do it. I came to talk to you because I don't want Justin to feel that way anymore. I don't want him to think that I don't love him, that I'm not here for him. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable around me. I want us all to be brothers again, Lance. I don't want this, this wall, this divide, to stay where it is. We can't keep doing this." 

"We're divided because of you," Lance said bitterly. "There's a wall between us because you put it there, the day you came to my house and tried to tell me that Justin was going to hurt me. You did it, the day you asked me to choose who my friends were. You know I wouldn't ever leave one of my friends, Joey, not when they needed me, and a real friend wouldn't have asked me to. That's why we're not together, like we were, because you're not like you were." 

"Lance, I never asked you to make that choice," Joey said quietly. "I never asked you to choose. You wrote that part in yourself. I told you I'd still be here for you, still be your friend, no matter what happened. I never asked you to choose." 

Lance paused, realizing that Joey was right. Lance was the one who had thrown out the idea that he had to choose. Lance was the one who had divided them, but he had to, because of the way Joey felt, because Joey couldn't trust Justin, and wouldn't see that Justin had changed. 

"I had to, because of the way you were acting," Lance said finally. "You didn't ask me to, but you didn't have to. You made it clear." 

"And I was wrong, Lance," Joey said. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, and maybe, later, to Justin. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, and that I was wrong. I didn't really see Justin, Lance, didn't really see the way he was, because I didn't want to. That's the truth, Lance, and I realized it last night when I was talking to Chris and Jack. I never forgave Justin, after what he did to you. I never really believed that he was sorry. I thought he was biding his time. I was nice to him again, because you forgave him, but I never really believed that he meant it, because he hurt you so badly." 

"But you saw it, Joey," Lance said, shaking his head. "You saw how much it hurt him to see me in that much pain. You saw how sorry he was." 

"I saw how sorry he looked, Lance," Joey said. "I saw how sorry he acted, but how many times had we seen Justin act before? How many times? We saw him playing JC, and you, and Britney. How was I supposed to know that time was real? He hurt you, Lance, and I couldn't let that go, even if you did. Maybe that made you a better person than me, I don't know, and I don't really care. I know we agreed to let him stay, and I thought that as long as he left you alone, I'd leave him alone, and it would all be ok. And it looked like he was. I wasn't happy when he, you know, when he moved in on JC, even if they both say that isn't the way it happened, but he wasn't hurting you, so I didn't say anything, and I kept not saying anything. That's what I was trying to stop doing, Lance. Howie hurt you, and I didn't say anything. Justin hurt you to get you away from Howie, and I said something then, but it was too late to help you, and look what it did." 

Lance was listening, but he was still a little angry. In the bedroom, Justin still slept, Junior curled against him. Joey continued, the words pouring out of him. This was why he had asked Chris and Jack to leave the night before. He had realized all of this, and wanted to think about it alone, without his friends around. He wanted to think about it in silence, to come to terms with all of it. He had gone to sleep thinking of it, had thought about it when he got up this morning, and had known that he needed to come make amends. He had made a mistake, and it was time to try to fix it. 

"After what happened to Justin, I saw what was going on with you two, but you pushed us all out," Joey said. "I saw you two turning in, turning toward each other and away from all of us, and I didn't want to not say anything again. I didn't want to keep quiet this time, and just let something else happen, so I came to see you, but I said the wrong thing. I made a mistake, Lance." 

"And what?" Lance asked, crossing his arms again. "You think you can just come now and say sorry, and it'll all just go away? You think it's just going to make everything better?" 

"I don't know," Joey answered. "But this is killing us. We're out there every night, and when we're onstage, we are Nsync, but the minute we step off, we break apart again. Justin needs us all, but he doesn't feel like he has me, and neither do you. JC is worried about Justin, and he's not doing well being split up from Jack, too. Chris is so busy worrying about everyone else that he's losing track of himself, and me, Lance, I need my friend back. You're my best friend, and I need you. We all need each other, and we're not together. When we are, we can do anything, but we're not, and some of that is my fault, because I made a mistake, and I'm sorry." 

"I don't know if we can go back to the way we were," Lance said quietly, looking away. "We're not the people we used to be, and everything here won't just be hugged away, Joey." 

"I know it won't, Lance," Joey said. "I know I fucked up, and that maybe part of the reason it's taking Justin so long to get better is my fault, too, but Lance, even if we can't get back to the way we were, can't we get back to something? Can we still be friends? Can we still hang out, and be around each other, and not feel like we have to have our guard up? That's all I want. I just want to tell Justin I'm sorry, and more than that I want to show you guys I'm sorry, and that I mean it, but I can't do it if you keep me blocked out." 

Lance turned away a little, thinking. 

"You want us to trust you," Lance said. "You want us to trust you, and believe the things you say, even though you couldn't trust or believe Justin, and you couldn't trust my judgment either. You want us to forgive you, even though it's something you couldn't do. That's what you want?" 

"Yes," Joey said miserably, looking at his shoes. "I know I made a mistake, Lance, and I know what it was. If it makes you feel better to keep saying it, fine, do whatever you have to, but I want to make it right. I'm sorry, Lance. I've never lied to you, and you know it. Maybe the things I said haven't always been right, and they haven't always been smart, but they've always been what I thought and believed was true. I'm telling you that I'm sorry, and I'm saying it because I mean it." 

"I know you don't lie," Lance said. "I just don't know if this is enough. It might be too late for you to be sorry. It might be too late for you to build that bridge again. I don't know." 

"I'm not going to beg," Joey said, standing. He'd tried, but he wasn't going to bang his head against Lance's wall. "I've said what I came here for, and I'm going to go, because it's obvious you still don't want me here, but at least think about it, please? And tell Justin what I said, and that I want to talk to him, too?" 

"I'll tell him," Lance said. "But I won't force him into anything. If he doesn't believe me, or he still doesn't want you around, I'm not going to push him, Joey. Not now, and not after what happened last night. I have to protect Justin, and he always has to feel like he's in control of himself, or he'll never get better. If he says no, I want you to leave him alone." 

"I just want to help him, Lance," Joey said, walking toward the door. "I just want him to know I'm here." 

"I'll tell him, but the rest is going to be up to him," Lance said, crossing his arms. 

"What about us?" Joey asked. "What about me and you?" 

"We'll see," Lance answered noncommittally. "I have to think about what you said, and we'll see how things go. I can't make any promises, Joey. I don't know how I feel about you. I've been angry at you for a long time, and I've felt betrayed by you, and I don't know if you just saying you're sorry is going to fix it. I just don't know. I guess, you know, I'll see you tonight at sound checks, and we'll see how it goes." 

"Sure," Joey said, walking into the hallway. He closed the door behind him and wondered if he'd accomplished anything at all. 

Lance sighed, and sat down on the couch. Joey had never lied to him, that much was true, but that also meant Joey hadn't lied when he said he thought Justin was going to hurt him again. Maybe Joey felt differently now, but, as Lance had told him, he'd been angry for so long. Joey had betrayed his friendship, had betrayed them all, by asking Lance to choose between him and Justin. If he really had been Justin's friend, really had been the kind of brother they always talked about being, he would have been there for Justin, too, rather than asking Lance to turn away. Even if it was because of what Justin had done before, Joey should have been the bigger person, should have been able to forgive him. If Lance could, when he was the one who had been hurt, Joey should have been able to, as well. 

The way that he was asking Lance now to do for him. 

Lance shook his head, confused, and heard Justin whimper in the bedroom. Walking quickly in, he saw Justin clutching Junior tightly, his eyes squeezed closed as he twisted in the sheets. He was still asleep, but Lance could tell that the sleeping pill was wearing off. Justin's peace was broken, and he was dreaming again, trapped in his own private terror. 

"No, don't," Justin begged, his head tossing back and forth, his voice high and tight. Tears burst from his closed eyes. "Please, don't, please." 

"Justin, shhhh," Lance whispered, running a hand over his forehead. 

He brushed his hand back over Justin's hair, smoothing it down, feeling the sweat on Justin's forehead. As Lance touched him, comforting him, Justin calmed a little, and his breathing began to slow down. He let out an occasional whimper, but his face started to smooth out again. Junior looked up at Lance, blinking, and Lance petted him, too, with his other hand. Justin's free hand unclenched from the pillow, and he looked relaxed, his whimpers dying down. Lance wondered what he was dreaming about now, and then heard a soft knocking at the door. He hoped it wouldn't be Joey again, not this soon, and he walked quickly through the suite, not wanting the knocking to wake Justin. 

"Chad!" he said, surprised, as he pulled open the door. Chad smiled at him expectantly, his hair carefully messed and then gelled back into place, his shirt tight and his pants somehow tighter. He was wearing a light cologne that Lance found intriguing, if a little strong for daytime. "What's up?" 

"It's noon," Chad said, smiling. His smile faltered a little as he looked at Lance's baggy pants and t-shirt, and noticed that Lance didn't seem showered or shaved. "Are we having a casual day?" 

"Oh, God, Chad," Lance said, smacking his forehead. "We're supposed to go to lunch, aren't we? I'm sorry I forgot." 

"That's, that's ok," Chad said, his face falling. He tried to smile it off, but Lance could see that he was stung, and realized that Chad, being star struck like he usually was, would have been looking forward to this all day. 

"Chad, I'm sorry," Lance said, patting his shoulder. "I really am. I just, we had a bad night last night, and I kind of forgot. I haven't even showered yet." 

"Is everything ok?" Chad asked, sounding concerned. 

"Justin got a little, um, sick at the party," Lance said, uncomfortable with lying, even for a good reason. "He's not up yet, and I kind of, you know, I don't want to leave him alone until I know he's ok." 

"Oh my God!" Chad squeaked, clapping his hands over his mouth as his eyes went wide. They were huge and blue above his hands, his eyebrows raised almost comically high. "Is he ok? Did you have to go to the hospital? Are you still going to do the show tonight? What's wrong with him?" 

"Chad. Chad!" Lance hissed, not wanting him to wake Justin either. He grabbed Chad's shoulders, startling both of them. "Calm down. He doesn't have to go the hospital, and I think when he wakes up he'll be ok, but I'm not sure. We might have to cancel the show. I just don't know, ok?" 

"OK, yeah, ok, I'm sorry," Chad said, nodding. "Maybe we'll have that lunch in a couple days or something? Some other time?" 

"Yeah, of course," Lance said, nodding. He wanted to go check on Justin again, to see if Chad had disturbed him. The last thing he wanted was for Justin to start having another nightmare, and then to wake up with Chad in the suite. "We'll see, ok?" 

"Yeah, ok," Chad said, nodding. His shoulders were a little slumped, but he seemed ok, so Lance smiled at him, and then closed the door. As he started to cross the suite, heading for the bedroom, he heard a soft tap again. Turning, he opened it, and found Chad dancing nervously from foot to foot, wringing his hands. 

"Yeah?" Lance asked, wondering what else he needed. 

"I, um, I," Chad began, swallowing. "I wanted to tell you that I, um, I wanted to go to lunch, with, you know, with you, because I, um, I, you know, I like you." 

"I like you, too," Lance said obliviously, wondering why Chad felt the need to tell him that. What if Justin needed him? 

"No," Chad said, shaking his head. He was blushing now, turning red. "Lance, I, um, I like you, like, I, well, oh hell!" 

Before Lance could do anything Chad leaned in and planted his mouth down on Lance's, jerking Lance toward him by the front of his shirt. It was fast, and wet, and a little sloppy, and Lance blinked in surprise, caught completely off guard, before Chad let go of him. Chad was bright red now, and didn't even wait to see what Lance would say or do, turning to dart down the hall as Lance stood in the doorway, his fingers drifting up to wipe off his mouth as he watched Chad go. Chad liked him, obviously, and not just as a friend. What the hell was he supposed to think about that? He closed the door, still feeling that quick pressure on his lips, that feeling that he hadn't known in months, and began to walk toward the bedroom, wondering what he should do. 

In the bedroom, Justin closed his eyes, and pretended not to have heard. 

---

CHAPTER 118

---

LANCE'S POV: 

"Are you sure you're ok for this?" Lance asked as they sat in the limo, driving to the arena. They still had a half hour before sound checks, and Lance had told the others by phone that they would meet them there for the sound checks and dinner. 

They hadn't seen any of the others all day. Lance had called them all about breakfast, and then after noon when Justin finally woke up he didn't want to eat anything, so Lance had called the others and told them they were going to skip lunch, too. Chris, JC, and Jack had asked if they could come over to see Justin, but Lance told them he didn't think it was a good idea after he asked Justin, and Justin just shook his head, lying in bed and holding Junior against his chest. After he got off the phone, and ordered a couple subs from room service, Lance came in and sat on the bed, not too close, but near enough for Justin to reach him if he wanted to. 

"Justin?" Lance asked. Justin looked up at him, his face blank, his blue eyes wide and empty. "Do you need anything?" 

"No," Justin answered. He blinked, realizing that he was being a little rude to Lance, who cared about him. "No, thank you. Lance, I feel tired, really tired." 

"Is it the pill, Justin?" Lance asked, knowing that they left him kind of dazed. 

"I don't know," Justin answered. "I just, I feel so tired. Can I stay in bed today? Please? Is that ok?" 

"Justin, whatever you want is ok," Lance said, watching him. He'd only seen Justin like this once before. After Lance had gone to get help, and the guys had all found out about everything, there had been a time when no one talked to Justin, or even acknowledged that he was there, and Justin was just this frightening blank that followed them all around. He took up space, but he was like a closed system, a good painting of a human being, with nothing underneath. "Do you want to talk about anything? Do you need to?" 

"No," Justin said, shaking his head. 

"Are you sure?" Lance asked, petting Junior, putting his hand near Justin's. Justin didn't take it, but he didn't move his hand, either. "It's not good to hold it inside, Justin." 

"I'm not holding it inside," Justin said, not moving. "I just don't have anything to talk about. He was there. He found me, and he touched me, and it was real. I'm never going to be safe, never. He's always going to come back, and he's always going to find me, and he'll do it again. It doesn't matter what we do. I'm not safe." 

His voice was so flat, and matter of fact, that chills went down Lance's spine. Justin really thought he was never going to be safe from Nick, and Lance realized why Justin didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to do anything. Justin was giving up. Justin was going to lay in bed and wait for Nick to come back, and then Justin was just going to surrender. 

"Don't do this, Justin," Lance said, hearing his voice tremble. "Please don't do this. Don't let him win. You have to fight, Justin. You have to fight your way back from this. You're stronger than he is." 

"Why?" Justin asked. He turned his head, looking up at Lance. His bright blue eyes were huge and glassy beneath his thin blond eyebrows, but the rest of his face was empty. "I'm tired, Lance, I'm so tired. It's so hard to fall asleep, and to get up. It's so hard to fight, to get out of bed, to do anything, it's so hard, and it doesn't matter. He's going to be there, he's always going to be there. It doesn't matter if I fight." 

"It does matter!" Lance said sharply. "It matters to me! It matters to all of us. We care about you, Justin, and we want you to be the way you were, the way you used to be. We want you to be strong, and beautiful. We want you to be Justin, damn it. We want you to be our baby boy again, and not just for us. We want it for you. We want you to be happy again, and strong. You told me the other night that you didn't want him to win, that you didn't want him to take everything." 

"That was before," Justin said, sitting up. His shoulders were slumped, his head down. "Before he came back. Before he found me." 

"But he didn't hurt you, Justin," Lance pointed out. "He found you, but he didn't do anything." 

"Because you saved me," Justin said softly, his face melting a little, the features softening. Justin reached out, his hand shaking, and brushed the side of Lance's face. "You saved me. You all saved me. You protected me." 

"We always will, Justin," Lance said, letting Justin touch him, letting Justin reach out for whatever he needed. "We'll always protect you. I'll always protect you, just like I promised." 

Justin's eyes finally watered, tears spilling over, and he pinched them closed as he grabbed Lance and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the space where Lance's neck met his shoulder. Lance curled his arms around him, holding him tightly, feeling him finally release as Justin shook and sobbed beneath him. 

"He was there," Justin sobbed. "He put his hand on me, and he was there." 

"I know, Justin," Lance whispered, holding onto him again, hoping Justin was comforted by how familiar this was. "I know. Just let it out, ok? Let it out." 

Justin did, sobbing softly, clutching Lance's back. When he finally started to level off, Lance tilted his head up carefully with one hand. 

"Justin, why don't you get up and take a shower?" Lance asked, glancing at the clock. "It'll make you feel better, and it'll relax you. I have some sandwiches coming, and we can just stay in today, and rest, if that's what you want." 

"OK," Justin whispered, nodding. "Can Junior come in the bathroom with me?" 

"That's fine," Lance said, smiling. He watched Justin climb out of bed, rubbing at his shoulder. Lance knew the bite couldn't really hurt, since it was healed, but sometimes when Justin was upset Lance caught him unconsciously rubbing at it. He didn't ever say anything about it, but every time he saw Justin reach up there, he wanted to find Nick and hurt him. "I'll be right here if you need me, ok?" 

Justin paused at the bathroom door. 

"Lance, you said yesterday that you were going to lunch with Chad today," he began. "You didn't have to stay in for me." 

"Yes I did," Lance said, shrugging. "You're more important." 

"No, I'm not," Justin answered. "Not really." 

Lance wondered what that meant as Justin closed the door. He thought about asking Justin about it when he came out of the bathroom, but realized that they had to talk about something else. He had to tell Justin about Joey, and what he had said. When Justin finished showering, he left the bathroom for Lance, and Lance washed up while Justin got dressed. When Lance walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in his towel, Justin was laying on the bed, fully dressed, petting Junior. 

"Justin, I have to get dressed now," Lance said, expecting him to get up. 

"I'll shut my eyes," Justin said quietly. Lance raised an eyebrow, but Justin didn't see it. His eyes weren't squeezed closed, but they were shut, and Lance figured whatever Justin wanted was fine. As he got dressed, he glanced over, or looked in the mirror, but Justin kept his eyes closed the entire time, and Lance wondered if he'd fallen asleep. He saw Justin tense when room service knocked at the door, but Justin had relaxed again by the time Lance pushed the little cart into the bedroom. 

"Justin, I got you a turkey sandwich," Lance said, sitting down on the bed. Justin, lying on his side, didn't move, but Junior eyed the cart in joyous anticipation, waiting for a handout. 

"I don't want any food," Justin said neutrally, not opening his eyes. "I'm not hungry." 

"Do you want to cancel the show tonight?" Lance asked bluntly. He wasn't going to let Justin pull inside like this. He didn't know why Justin was suddenly pulling away from him, but it needed to stop. 

"No," Justin answered. "I don't want to cancel. The fans." 

"The fans aren't going to enjoy it if you collapse onstage in the middle," Lance said, unwrapping Justin's sub. "You threw up before the party last night, Justin, and you haven't eaten today. If you don't eat something, you're not going to have enough energy to do the show." 

"OK," Justin said, sitting up. "Junior, get down." 

The dog hopped to the floor and sat between Justin's feet, waiting patiently. Justin might pretend like he wasn't going to feed him, but Junior knew Justin always did. Lance might not, but that was why Junior wasn't sitting by him. Sooner or later Justin would hand him something, and it was usually a lot more interesting than dog food. All he had to do was wait, and roll his eyes. 

"Justin, I need to talk to you before we go see the other guys later," Lance began, not sure of how to ease into this. He watched Justin bite the sub and mechanically chew, his cheeks bulging a little as he watched Lance with his bright blue eyes. He waited until Justin swallowed, so that he wouldn't accidentally choke him. "Joey stopped by while you were sleeping." 

"What did he want?" Justin asked neutrally, taking another bite. 

"He wanted to talk to us," Lance answered. "He wanted to say that he was sorry for all the things he's said, and the way he's been acting, and he wanted to apologize to you for what he said in the bathroom last night." 

Justin thought about it for a minute. 

"Do you believe him?" Justin asked, pulling a scrap of turkey out of his sandwich and tossing it down to Junior. Lance was a little startled by the matter of fact way that Justin asked. 

"I think so," Lance answered finally, turning it over in his mind. "I mean, Joey hasn't ever lied to me." 

"He looked sorry last night, " Justin said, and for a second Lance thought he was joking. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I looked at his face. He didn't want to say that to me, and he didn't like it." 

"He shouldn't have said it," Lance said, his tone shifting a little. "He had no right to talk to you that way." 

"Maybe he had to say it," Justin said. His voice was still completely flat. "When he talked to me, when he said that, it cut through everything, Lance. I wasn't thinking about anything. All I wanted to do was hold onto you, and be safe, and I wasn't listening to anyone. I didn't even hear Josh, not really, but when Joey said that, I heard him. Maybe he knew that." 

"That's actually kind of what he said," Lance said. 

"Then what's wrong?" Justin asked. Lance glanced at him again. "You're still upset about something. If you believe Joey, why are you still unhappy?" 

"Because he's been a jackass, Justin," Lance said, surprised that Justin wasn't angrier. "I mean, he's just going to come and say sorry, after what he did? After the way he treated you?" 

"I said I was sorry after the things I did," Justin said. "I apologized after the way I treated you, and you listened to me. Why don't you want to listen to Joey?" 

"It's different," Lance said, a little annoyed by the way that Justin just kept eating. "He betrayed me, betrayed our friendship." 

"I betrayed you and our friendship," Justin said, talking with his mouth full. Lance bit back an urge to correct him. 

"It's not the same, Justin," Lance said. "You had reasons for what you did. You're not like Joey." 

"Maybe Joey had reasons for what he did, too," Justin said, tossing Junior the last couple of scraps of his sandwich as he finished it. He stood, and walked toward the bathroom. "Maybe I'm a lot more like Joey than you think, and you just don't want to see it. I have to brush my teeth now." 

Justin closed the bathroom door behind him. Lance, sitting on the bed, stared at the door in shock, wondering what that had been all about. Justin was nothing like Joey, couldn't be, not Justin. In the bathroom, Justin looked at his shaking hands and breathed a sigh of relief, certain that he'd been convincing. He was still hurt by Joey, still a little afraid of him, but he had to push Lance away. It was the best thing for Lance, and if that meant he had to let Joey be near him, had to let Joey be his friend, then he would do it, if that's what it took to keep Lance from making a horrible mistake. As much as he needed Lance, needed to feel Lance's strength and comfort, he needed Lance to do what was best for him, and that meant he had to push him away. Lance's needs were more important than his own. 

After that, they'd hung out in the suite, doing their own thing. They didn't talk any more about last night, but they left the television off, both of them avoiding encountering any coverage. They fielded a few phone calls from Johnny, and from Justin's mother, assuring them that he was ok, and that it had just been a passing bout of illness from something Justin ate. Justin assured both of them that the concert would go on tonight, and that he would be fine, but as it got closer and closer to go time, when they had to ride over to the venue and start their sound checks, he felt himself getting more and more nervous. What if Nick came to the concert? What if he looked out from the stage, and Nick was there? What if Nick was here, now, in the hotel? They said he was safe, that everything here would be ok, but they said that last night, too, and it hadn't been. 

Lance watched Justin throughout the afternoon, and tried to figure out why Justin was trying to play it off, to pretend that nothing was bothering him. After weeks of being together, of spending every minute with each other, more or less, Justin was shutting him off, blocking him out, and he didn't know why. Lance knew that Justin was nervous, and he knew that Justin was feeling unsettled. As it got closer and closer to go time, Justin got jumpier. His hands shook a little, and he twisted them nervously in his lap, almost unconsciously, as he paged through a clothing catalog. Junior, feeding off of Justin's nervousness, paced relentlessly around the suite, but Justin seemed too distracted to play with him. Finally Justin went to the bathroom, and when he was there for several minutes without coming out, Lance went and tapped at the door. 

"Justin?" Lance asked. 

"Lance," Justin answered weakly, and Lance pushed open the door. Justin was sitting on the floor, by the toilet, holding a cold washcloth on his head. When he looked at Lance, his eyes looked sunken, and he was very pale, stark white under the strong lights in there. "Lance, I feel sick. I think I have to throw up." 

"What's wrong?" Lance asked, sitting down next to him. "Talk to me, please, Justin, don't shut me out." 

"I'm scared, Lance," Justin answered finally. "I'm scared, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being afraid, but what if he's there tonight? What if he comes to the show? What if I'm in the middle of a song, and I look up, and I see him? I can't do it, Lance, I just can't. I'm just so afraid. When I see him, it happens again, Lance." 

"I'm sorry, Justin," Lance said, not touching him. He set his hand down near Justin's, and Justin took it. When he felt Lance squeeze it, he laid his head on Lance's shoulder. "Justin, we don't have to do this tonight. We can call it off, and refund everybody." 

"No, we can't," Justin said, shaking his head. "It's not fair to the fans. They came to see us, and to see the show, and we shouldn't cheat them out of that because I'm so, I'm so fucking weak." 

Justin's hand flew up to his eyes at that, trying to swat his tears away, and Lance cradled him tightly. Justin's shoulders shook with the effort not to cry, his lips pulled back from his teeth as he tried to hold it inside. 

"You're not weak, Justin," Lance said, stroking his back and his forehead. "You're strong." 

"I'm not," Justin said, shaking against him. His face was red now, and tears continued to slide slowly down his cheeks. "I'm not strong, Lance. I thought I was. I thought I could do anything. I thought I'd always win, because I was Justin Timberlake, and I didn't. I didn't stop him. I tried, Lance, I tried so hard. I yelled at him, and I tried to get away, but he held me down, I tried to fight, and I couldn't stop him. I was weak, and I let him do that to me. And then, last night, I let him touch me again. I wanted to stop him, but when I saw him, I couldn't. I could fight, and I couldn't do anything. I was just too scared, and too weak, and I don't want to be anymore, Lance. I don't want to be." 

"You didn't let him do anything, Justin," Lance said, holding him. "You tried to fight, and you are strong, Justin, you are. You're strong inside, and when you're not, you can fall back on us, on all of us." 

"Even Joey," Justin said quietly, his face pressed to Lance's chest now. Lance sighed. 

"Yes, even Joey," he grudgingly admitted. "We're all here for you, and we'll all be strong with you, Justin, you know that. Now, what can I do? Right now, what can I do for you?" 

"Be my friend," Justin answered quietly. "Please, tell me you're my friend. Tell me I'm not trash, and that I should have friends. Tell me I'm a good person, and I'm not, not bad. Tell me I'm not like him." 

"You'll never be like him, Justin," Lance said, cradling him. Justin held tightly to Lance, not wanting to look at him, hoping everything he said was true. "Now, do you want to do the show tonight?" 

"Yes," Justin answered finally. 

"Why?" Lance asked. 

"Because I can," Justin answered, wiping his face. He looked at Lance, his eyes still wet, but his jaw was tell. He was psyching himself up, and Lance was part of it. Lance knew his role, and they were shifting into it now. "Because I can do this." 

"You can do this, Justin," Lance said, nodding. "You can." 

When it was time to go, the two of them made sure Junior had food and water, and a pad down on the bathroom floor, and then they went down and got into the car. The others would be coming from wherever they went during the day, JC and Jack probably from some long afternoon together, and Chris and Vlada as well. Lance wasn't sure what Joey did, although, since they were in New York, he was probably out visiting old friends or something. They would all meet at the arena for sound checks, and then have dinner together. On the way over, Justin still looked a little shaken, which is why Lance asked again if he was all right, and if he wanted to do this. 

"I'm ok," Justin answered. He swallowed, taking another pull off of the water bottle in his hand. "I couldn't do this without you, Lance. I, you're, you know." 

"Yeah," Lance answered, squeezing Justin's hand. He was what, exactly? "I know." 

---

JACK'S POV: 

Josh and I stayed in for the day, ordering room service for lunch, just lying around on the couch watching television. Now that he knew my decision, neither one of us was quite so anxious about me leaving in the morning. On a regular day, the two of us would spend today being a little down, a little depressed at the thought of our impending separation, but now it was just an extra hurdle, a little quick obstacle that we would get through. I realized during the night, as I thought about it, that I wanted it as much as Josh did. As much as I liked what I was doing, I didn't like being apart from him. I didn't enjoy waking up alone, or eating meals with Andrew, wishing I was with Josh, knowing that Josh was somewhere else, eating with one of the guys, wishing he was with me. 

We hadn't made love in the shower, a rare occasion for us both, but when we got out, and I saw him standing on the bathmat, water coursing down his body, dripping off all of those muscles, and his tight brown nipples, I couldn't help myself. Dropping down to my knees in front of him, my tongue reached out and caressed the wide, spongy head of his half-hard cock. I tasted shower water, clean and pure, and looked up to see him staring down at me, his lips parted, wet hair hanging down over his forehead. Without saying anything, I leaned forward, closer to him, and began to lap the water from his balls, pushing them around with my tongue. 

"Oh, Jack," he sighed, leaning back against the wall. 

His voice was husky, breathy, just the way I like to hear it, and I felt his cock twitching, filling with blood as it slowly climbed the side of my face. Josh sighed again, and I felt his fingers sliding down from the wall to caress my shoulders, rubbing at them. He tilted his head back, blue eyes sliding closed, as I moved my mouth up the firm trunk of his cock, feeling it throb under my lips. His sighs continued, urgent little whimpers, as I licked my way up and down him, avoiding the head, but running my tongue around the ridge where it met the shaft. He was fully hard now, his cock jerking in time to his heart beat, and each time my tongue touched it he let out another high pitched whimpering sigh, and his long, tan fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders. Finally I let my tongue slide up onto the head from underneath, tasting the salty traces of his slowly leaking precum. When I did, dipping my tongue into his slit, he let out a full, open mouthed sigh, a tightly pinched sound of urgent need, and one of his hands slid up my neck and onto the back of my head. I looked up at him. 

"Please," he whispered, staring down at me, his blue eyes half closed. 

As an answer, I let my mouth drop open, and I felt the pressure of his arm flexing as he pulled me onto his cock. His arm pulled me toward him with a firm, smooth flex as his hips rolled forward, and his shaft slid smoothly into my mouth. I kept my lips tightly pressed around him, knowing he liked that, and felt his head leaving a slick trail over my tongue and across the top of my mouth. As I looked up, I could see his whole body above me, his slick torso, still a little wet from the shower, stretched before me. My eyes, sliding up from his wet brown pubes, followed the rippling line of his abs, watching them roll and change as his hips continued to slowly pump himself into my mouth. Above them, his pecs flexed as his arm continued to pull me toward him, his small brown nipples pointed and hard, his smattering of soft downy chest hair slicked down by the rest of the water. The lines of his neck led up to the firm sketch of his jaw, the soft curves of his mouth, and the soft prominence of his cheekbones, pressing out from his face below those eyes, so many shades of blue overlaying each other, that I knew so well. 

"Jack, oh, God, Jack," he sighed. 

We stayed like that, me kneeling before him in complete submission as he fed me his cock, until he was done, and I felt him shooting into my mouth. His arm flexed, biceps shaking, as he convulsively pulled me onto him. I gagged on his cock, my hands resting on the lanky expanse of his thighs, but I trusted him not to choke me to death. I guess it was sexy gagging, because his eyes were clouded with lust when they finally opened, after his cock finished pulsing and spurting in me. He let go of the back of my head slid his hands around to my jaw, pulling me up from the floor and plastering his mouth over mine. He jammed his tongue inside, tilting my head back, and I sighed against him as I felt him darting and prodding through my mouth, tasting himself, trying to follow where his cock had been. When he finally pulled our heads apart, I slumped against him as he stood on the wall, both of us gasping for air, and I felt my hard cock prodding his balls. 

"I love you," he whispered, jamming his tongue in my mouth again. I moaned, feeling his hands slide down to my ass, squeezing and gripping it. They danced around to my front, his fingers wrapping around my cock, and then he was dropping to his knees. "Let me help you with that, baby." 

"Josh," I sighed, feeling him attack me with his usual fervent zeal. "I love you, too." 

When we were finally finished, an orgasm and much kissing later, Josh and I got dressed, and spent the day cuddling and watching television. I knew he was worried about Justin, and Lance, and after I told him what had happened between Joey, Chris, and I, he was worried on that front, too, but we talked about it, and agreed that we would monitor, but not intrude. We would keep an eye on the others, and continue to offer support, but otherwise we would wait for them to need us, and we wouldn't intrude. It seemed like a good idea, but we both knew it would be hard. Josh just wanted to help everyone, and, while I did, too, I was also so naturally curious that it bothered me not to know everything that was going on. 

We also discussed what we were going to do with Chad, as a large part of his job was coordinating my engagements and schedule. If I wasn't going to be speaking again until the tour was over, he'd have to have something else to do. Josh and I agreed that we would keep him on to help with our correspondence, since we would need him again once the tour was over to manage my stuff again, and we thought that maybe the lessening of his responsibilities would help him adapt to them better. When he stopped by after lunch, to update me on Georgia's repealed sodomy laws and the current movements trying to get them back into place, we explained it all to him, and he was predictably excited until Josh dimmed his glow a little. I was just as surprised, since Josh hadn't warned me. 

"You staying on with us is provisional, Chad," Josh explained. "I know we talked about this yesterday, but I decided that I want to formalize it a little, because it's a serious issue for us both. Jack and I like you, but this isn't about whether or not we're friends. It's about the job you were hired to do, and our satisfaction with your performance so far." 

"Are you firing me?" Chad asked, swallowing, his eyes wide. I wondered if he owned any clothing that didn't cleave itself to his body like a spider monkey on a tree. 

"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "I'm taking everything we talked about, and I'm going to put it in a letter for you, so that you understand how important this is to us. I really believe that you can do this, Chad, and I really want to give you a chance, but this is going to be your official warning. If you don't improve, we're going to have to let you go." 

"OK," Chad said quietly, looking away is if he might burst into tears. I gritted my teeth, thinking that we had enough criers already. 

"Do you have any questions?" Josh asked gently. "Do you need to ask anything, or want to talk about this?" 

"No, no, I'm fine," Chad said, standing. "I have to go. I'll do better, JC, I promise. You'll see, and you won't be sorry you gave me a chance." 

He hurried out, and I looked at Josh. 

"Did you do that for me?" I asked. 

"I did that for us," he answered, kissing me on the forehead. It was all the answer I needed. 

The sound check seemed to go ok, or at least it went typically well. The guys walked up and down the stage, trying their microphones, chatting with each other and with the special group of fans who got to come to these. Vlada and I sat off to the side, Andrew a few rows behind us, and the two of us shared a bag of popcorn, waving at our boys when they glanced toward us. Justin seemed his usual self, and I wondered how much pep talking Lance had to give him to get him that way. Joey looked a little down, but once, as they passed, Justin reached out and squeezed his shoulder. It was quick, and the audience probably thought it was just a typical gesture of friendship between the guys, but Vlada and I both caught it, and Joey looked at Justin with such grateful surprise that I thought he might start crying. The others all caught it, too, Chris and Josh doing a passable job of masking their surprise, and Lance looking so neutral that it was obvious he wasn't pleased. As we sat in the audience, waiting for the guys to finish so we could all have a quick dinner, my phone rang. 

"Jack, it's me, Chad," he said brightly, as if I couldn't figure that out from the caller ID. "Kevin Richardson from the Backstreet Boys called for you. He knows that you're going to be in Boston tomorrow, and he says he wants to talk to you. I told him you were unavailable right now, and he asked me to call back. What do you want me to tell him?" 

"Did he say what he wanted?" I asked, knowing full well. 

"No," Chad answered. "I asked, like three times, but he just said you'd know, and that he was going to be there either way." 

I sighed. 

"Tell him to meet me for a late dinner somewhere," I said finally. "Call around Boston, find us a nice, quiet restaurant close to the hotel, make us a reservation, and then call him and tell him to meet me there, ok?" 

"Sure, no problem," Chad said quickly. "I can do that." 

I wished all of my problems were solved as easily as Chad seemed to think they could be. 

---

CHAPTER 119

---

JACK'S POV:

"I love you," Josh whispered, kissing my cheeks as he held me tightly on the curb. "I love you so much. Please be careful. Please come back to me." 

Whatever comfort we'd taken the day before in the knowledge that I would only be leaving a couple more times had fled us both, and we stood out by the busses on the verge of tears. We weren't usually quite so emotional, but the past few days had been so rough we were both reluctant to let go. If there weren't people expecting me, I might have called the whole thing off, and stayed there in the protected circle of Josh's strong arms. I didn't want to leave him when he needed me, and I also didn't want to face Kevin. On one hand, I didn't want to have to explain things to Kevin, didn't want to have to tell him everything, but on the other hand, I was even more afraid that I wouldn't have to, that Nick had already told him, and that he wouldn't care. I wanted to think that he was as nice as he seemed, but what if he wasn't? What if, somehow, he took Nick's side? 

"I love you, too, Josh," I whispered, holding him. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I have to go." 

"Please don't be sorry," Josh said, his strong arms on my back. "It'll be ok, and I don't want you to feel bad. Just, please, promise me you'll stay with Andrew the whole time, ok? Promise me you'll stay with him, and that you'll let him protect you. Please, promise you'll come back to me." 

"I promise, Josh," I said quickly, pecking him on the lips. Josh always made me promise that I'd stay with Andrew, and that I'd be careful. Today, though, there were lines around his eyes. His stubbled face was tightly set, his eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth, usually so quick to grin, turning downward. His eyes, usually so warm and sparkling, were shadowed. "Josh, I'm just going on a speech. I'll be ok. I mean, nothing will happen to me, ok, babe? I'll stay with Andrew the entire time, but I'll be fine." 

"You have to be," Josh said, hugging me again. "I know you'll be fine, and I know you're safe, but we thought Justin would be ok, too. And we thought you'd be fine when you went to the bathroom and got kidnapped, too. Just please be safe, ok? Please." 

"I will, Josh, I promise," I repeated. "Are you ok keeping Junior?" 

"Are you ok without him?" Josh countered. "He doesn't have to stay here. Even Justin said so." 

"I know," I answered. "But I want him close to you, since I can't be. I promise I'll be back soon, Josh, as soon as I can." 

"I'm sorry I'm like this," he said, trying to turn away. I held his shoulders, not letting him. 

"Don't you be sorry, either, Josh," I said firmly. "Don't be sorry for loving me, and needing me. Please don't." 

"I just, I feel selfish acting like this," he sighed. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad." 

"I know, Josh, I know," I said, kissing him on the cheek again. His arms were bare, and I ran my hands up and down them, memorizing the warm velvet feeling of his skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath the softness and warmth. "Are you going to be ok today?" 

"I'm going to ride with Chris and Joey," Josh said. "I don't really want to be on the bus by myself, and Chris asked if I wanted to ride with them. I'll probably just sleep most of the way." 

We were out in front of the hotel, and it was brutally early in the morning, before six. The busses were about to pull out, and then I was going to have breakfast with Andrew before we caught the flight to Boston. Justin and Lance had already climbed onto their bus, probably both going back to sleep, and Joey and Chris were milling about on the sidewalk near their bus, talking quietly. Josh was the odd man out with his own bus, since I sometimes rode it with him. Chris was sneaking a cigarette, the smoke coiling around him, and I realized I wanted one, too. How come when you quit smoking, it was like you never really did? Every time I felt stressed out, or upset, I wanted one in my mouth, even though I hadn't had one since the night I was kidnapped. 

"Josh, did you talk to Joey this morning?" I asked, glancing over at them, figuring Josh's concern for the others might distract him a little. 

"Yeah," Josh answered, nodding. "He's a little better. What Justin did last night, it really meant a lot to him. He's still kind of down, but I think he'll be ok." 

Even though I was part of the family, and Vlada was too, there were still times when we didn't intrude, and left the guys to be by themselves. The two of us had dinner with them after the sound checks, and then we left them alone, going to our seats in the VIP section. Before every show the guys retreated into the quiet room, which was for band members only. I knew most of what they did in there, since Josh had told me, but I had never asked to go in, because I didn't want to intrude on the bond they had. I might be married to Josh, and I might be friends with all of them, but I wasn't part of the band, wasn't part of the work they had put in and the sacrifices they had made to be who and where they were, and that meant there were some things I shouldn't see. 

The guys went into the quiet room before every show, and reminded each other of who they were. They talked about how much they loved each other, and how much they meant to each other. They hugged, they held hands, they prayed, and lately they had also taken to agreeing with the pep talk that Lance gave Justin before every show, assuring him that he could do it and that they were here for him. Last night, after Justin had touched Joey's shoulder during the sound check, they had all waited to see what else would happen, and, for the first time since the tour had begun, last night Justin had hugged Joey. Neither of them spoke, but Josh, telling me about it in bed last night, said it was one of the most emotional moments they'd ever had, and that he thought even Chris might sniffle. He also thought that Lance was a little pissed. 

"Doesn't Lance want them to be friends again?" I asked, looking around for the key, so that I could get my arm uncuffed from the bedframe. At least I had one hand free. 

"Yeah," Josh breathed sleepily against my chest, sprawled across me where he had collapsed. "I think he's still pissed at Joey, though." 

"But if Justin isn't pissed, why does Lance still get to be?" I asked, finally spotting the key on the nightstand, next to Josh's police hat. I grabbed it and unlocked myself, tossing the handcuffs away. "I mean, Justin was hurt more than Lance was." 

"Maybe not," Josh said, rousing himself a little. He turned his head, so that he was still laying on my chest, but was staring up into my eyes, and I brushed my fingers over and over through his hair, loving the slick sweaty texture, knowing that I helped make it that way. "I think Lance was ok with what Joey said originally, when he yelled at Justin after we all found out about Howie, but when Joey came to him during our honeymoon, I think Lance really felt betrayed. It really hurt him to have Joey not trust him." 

"But Joey apologized," I said. "And I know what you're thinking, but he's shown that he's sorry, too. I mean, you can just look at him and tell how bad he feels. He's not just saying it." 

"I know, and you know, and I'm sure that somewhere, Lance knows, too," Josh said. "But Lance and Joey were best friends, Jack. Lance was added to the group late, after everyone else, and he's always kind of felt like the odd guy out. His self esteem wasn't that great, and it's really hard for him, I think, to be the guy who never, ever sings the lead. When he joined, he was always kind of standoffish with the rest of us, and it was Joey that made friends with him first. Joey was always the closest one of us to him, and Joey was always the one who stuck by him. When things were rough, after you and I met that first time, and I was so moody, and Justin and Lance were fighting all the time, Joey always patched it up with all of us, and Joey always defended him." 

"So Joey saying that probably hurt him deeper than anything else," I said, nodding. "Do you think there's anything that we should be doing? Is there any way we can help them?" 

"I don't think so," Josh answered. "It's something they'll have to work out for themselves, I guess, if they can. We can't fix everybody." 

"You sure fixed me," I said contentedly, stretching a little. I winked at him. 

"Good," Josh said, licking my nipple quickly. "Now go to sleep, and maybe I'll fix you again in the morning." 

We were too tired when we got up to deliver on that promise, but it was a nice thought. Instead of a nice, leisurely morning fuck we were out here, trying to say goodbye, and doing a bad job of it. Vlada had already left this morning, flying out to Spain, and the crew was already on their bus as well, so really it was just us holding everyone up. Andrew waited patiently by the hotel doors, watching the sidewalks, and Joey climbed up onto the bus as Chris stage coughed in our direction, loudly and obnoxiously. Both of us turned and grinned at him, snickering despite ourselves as he theatrically looked at his watch, overexaggerating every gesture like a mime. 

"Hey, Chris, what time is it?" Josh asked, glancing at Chris's wrist with all the subtlety of a high speed freeway chase. 

"About half past fuck you, Chris?" I asked pleasantly. 

"Did I say a word?" Chris asked, grinning. 

"You didn't have to," I answered, sticking out my tongue. Before I could say anything else Josh caught it in his mouth, and pulled me against him. Chris rolled his eyes, turning away. 

"Any excuse to put your mouths on each other," he grumbled, climbing the steps onto the bus. 

Josh's lips were pressed against mine, pursed tightly, and I could feel his teeth through them, pressed against my own. His chin was rough, covered with stubble. I had shaved after our shower, but Josh had just sat on the toilet, watching me, as if memorizing me, and now I felt his face scraping against mine, just a little roughly, but didn't care. It made it more real, somehow, made me more aware of him. His fingers were barely holding my jaw, the way he almost always did when he kissed me, just the fingertips holding my head in place, as if he was afraid to squeeze too tightly. My hands, though, crawled up and down his back, pulling greedily at him, forcing him more tightly against me. They dipped in the ripped arm holes of his sleeveless shirt, running up and down the smooth expanse of his back, and then he finally pulled me off of him, as I leaned forward, planting as many kisses on his lips as possible while he stepped away. 

"I'll miss you so much," he said, backing away from me. His eyes were wide, and slightly wet. 

"I'll miss you, too," I said, standing where I was, watching him. I'd never been good at saying goodbye, and wasn't getting any better. "I'll call you as soon as the plane lands." 

"I'll call you before it takes off," Josh countered, almost to the bus. "I love you." 

"I love you more," I said, sniffling, as he climbed up on the first step. 

"Come back to me," Josh said softly, tears finally spilling over from his eyes. 

"Always," I said, feeling wetness on my own cheeks. Josh finished climbing up the steps, and I turned away. Neither of us ever watched the other leave, and I heard the hiss of the brakes releasing as I looked up at Andrew. 

"Need some Kleenex?" he asked. "Maybe some crackers for all the cheese out here?" 

"Jerk," I said, smacking him on the arm, ignoring the sound of the first bus pulling away. If it was in Andrew to hug me, he would have, but the best he could offer was a sarcastic comment. It was still appreciated. "So, Andrew, can I interest you in some breakfast?" 

"With you?" he asked. "Or with someone I like?" 

"You're just batting a thousand already today, aren't you?" I grumbled, annoyed at walking into another one. 

"You give me great material, " he answered, snickering. "Jesus, I'm surprised the two of you can go to the bathroom by yourselves." 

"Who says we do?" I asked, smirking. Andrew just shook his head. 

We walked to the elevators, going to get my bags together while we figured out what we wanted for breakfast. 

---

LANCE'S POV: 

Lance was sitting at the back of the bus, at the table, and he looked up from his journal and toward the couch again, checking on Justin. They had started the morning with Lance reading and Justin playing video games with his headphones on, somehow managing to keep track of both at once, singing along and speeding away in his virtual car. They used to have a lot of fighting games, but Justin had stopped playing them since he was hurt, and Lance didn't question it. Before they'd been on the road even an hour, though, the vibration of the bus had lulled Justin to sleep, and now he was sprawled on the couch, the headphones still on, and the video game running an endless demo loop on the television screen. 

Lance watched Justin sleep, letting his eyes tick over him, trying to figure out what he was feeling. He had his journal out because he was trying to write things out again, trying to focus his mind, but really, more than anything, he wanted to call his doctor, and fly him out here. He wanted someone to look into his head and explain to him exactly what all the thoughts that were chasing themselves through his skull meant. Even though he knew his therapist wouldn't do that, he still wished for it. It would be so much easier to have someone present him all the answers on a platter than it was to try to figure out what he'd been thinking when Chad kissed him, or when JC had talked to Justin on the floor of the bathroom, or when Joey had come to apologize. It would have been a lot easier to have someone explain to him why, right now, he was fully aware of the fact that Justin was sleeping peacefully and that he needed the rest, but also of the fact that Justin's shirt was pulled up a little, exposing a smooth wedge of his buttery tanned abs and the faintest trail of thin blond hairs that led down from his navel into his pants. 

Lance blinked, shaking his head. He knew the answer to that one. He noticed Justin's stomach because that was just the way things were with Justin. You noticed him and how he looked, no matter what he was doing. Justin wasn't really a stunner, if you broke his features down. His nose was a little hooked, and his voice could be a little whiny sometimes, but there was just something about him. There was a glow that seemed to come from inside Justin, a golden shine of energy and enthusiasm, and it just drew you. Sure, it had changed since he was hurt. A big part of Justin's aura used to be sex, and the possibility of it. Everything he did exuded a kind of erotic glow, whether he was in the middle of a routine on stage or just walking across the room, and it could be overwhelming. Lance knew, from personal experience when Justin had turned it on him, that it could be blinding, but now it was gone, and in its place there was something else, something different, something that Lance, more and more lately, had to admit to himself that he found sort of attractive. 

It was hard to think that, though. Lance wasn't hurt the same way that Justin was, and wasn't dealing with it the same way. Lance wasn't afraid of sex, the way Justin was, and sometimes he still felt stirrings inside himself, basic needs that he couldn't deny. The problem, though, was that he wasn't supposed to feel them for Justin. He had schooled himself over the past few months since Justin had been hurt not to think about Justin that way, not to look at him and think anything even remotely sexual. Justin denied himself completely as a sexual being, and Lance denied it as well, because he didn't want to hurt Justin. Justin needed him, needed a friend, and more than that, he needed someone he could feel intimate with, but not in that way, and Lance had sublimated any desire he had. When he looked at Justin now, he saw someone soft, and caring, and vulnerable, someone completely different from the way that Justin had been. The swaggering frontman was gone, replaced by an innocent, tenderhearted boy next door, and sometimes, looking at him, or holding him tightly in bed at night, Lance found himself starting to think of Justin as someone he could be close to, and maybe someone he could love. He kept pushing those feelings away, but they were still there, however carefully buried. 

The problem, though, wasn't just that those feelings might threaten Justin, and might damage the bond between them. The other problem was that Justin would never feel that way toward Lance. If Lance slipped, and let himself fall, even a little, it would be a horrible mistake, because he knew that Justin would never return that. Why would he? Justin could have anyone. Justin was the popular one. If people mentioned the band, Justin sprang to mind first, and Justin was always the one that reporters talked to more, and wanted to hear from. JC might have become a media darling of late, but Justin was still well in the lead, and Justin was still perfect. Justin would never want someone like Lance, not in any way that was permanent. Right now Justin might be weak, and reaching out for someone, but when he was strong again, he wouldn't want someone like Lance. He would want someone cuter, someone more confident, someone more like himself, and not someone like Lance. Lance was a background guy. He was a wallflower, and, even worse, he was damaged goods. Lance was flawed, and everything that had happened to him was his own fault. He'd brought it all on himself by lying to himself, and others, and Justin would never want someone like that. 

That was the real reason why Lance was so hurt by what Joey had said. He knew that Joey just wanted what was best for him, he knew that Joey as trying to watch out for him, but he was mad because Joey had said it. Joey had come right out and said what Lance knew, deep in his heart, was true. Justin might care about Lance, but it would never be in that way, and Joey had known it. Somehow, as long as no one said it, Lance could still pretend it wasn't true. He could daydream that maybe, somehow, someone like Justin could love someone like him, but Joey had brought him crashing back down to the ground. Joey's words had knifed through him, reminding him once again that he would never be good enough for Justin, not that way. He could be a friend, but he wasn't worthy of love. Even now, with Joey apologizing, it was still a variation on the same theme. Joey admitted that Justin wasn't going to take advantage of Lance, but he hadn't taken back the rest of what he'd said. 

Then there were the rest of their friends, Chris, JC, and Jack. Chris tried to be nice to all of them, and take care of all of them. He had been a big help with Justin, getting him to come out and do stuff again, getting him to open up a little, and Justin needed that. Lance knew how he felt about Chris, and he was fine with the way Chris related to Justin, but what about JC? That flash of jealousy in the bathroom had surprised Lance, catching him completely off guard, but it also felt completely natural. He knew that Justin wasn't his, and didn't belong to him, but he still had to protect him, and that included shielding him from JC a little. Lance knew that Justin's feelings about JC had been in flux for a while, and that, since the wedding, they were shifting back to close friendship, if they weren't already there, but it still wasn't fair of JC to throw it in Justin's face like that, to push it on him. Justin didn't need headgames, and it wasn't fair of JC to do that in front of Jack, either. Lance felt almost as protective of Jack as he did of Justin. When Lance was in trouble, his friends hadn't come for him. Jack had, and Lance felt indebted to him for that. Even if Jack said it was nothing, and that he just wanted Lance to get better, Lance still felt as if he had to watch out for him, too, even if Jack would never admit that he needed anyone to do that. 

And what about Chad? Obviously, he at least had a crush on Lance. That quick kiss in the doorway, accompanied by the stammering declaration of liking him, had proven that. Lance wasn't sure, though, of how he felt about Chad. He was a lot of fun, and hanging out with him was nice, once you got him to calm down a little, but even the bubbly excitement was kind of interesting. Lance had never been friends with someone like Chad before, because he'd always been afraid to get close to someone that openly, flamingly gay, or else people might think he was, too. Here among his friends, though, they already knew, and that made it sort of ok. Once it was acceptable to think it was ok to be friends with Chad, it was acceptable to think about him other ways, too. Lance had to admit that Chad was cute, even if it was a kind of overprocessed cuteness. Chad had a good body, and wore a lot of interesting, flattering clothes. He wasn't afraid to put on the kinds of things that Lance shied away from. He also had a kind of naive, innocent quality, with those baby blue eyes, and that light blond hair, and Lance found himself drawn to that, somehow. He felt his body stirring on a physical level, something he hadn't allowed it to do for months, when he remembered Chad's mouth pressing quickly, wetly, over his own. What would it be like to feel that same kiss, a little slower? What would it be like to have Chad in the same room as him, close enough for Lance to touch? Chad, despite seeming so flighty, also seemed to have been around the block a few times, to have a little experience. What would he be like in bed? 

Lance shook his head, blinking that thought away. It was a moot point. Lance's priority was Justin, not Chad, and besides, he didn't even know Chad well enough to think about him that way, to wonder what kind of noises he would make or how he would move beneath him. Oooops, that wasn't pushing that thought away, now was it? Another voice in Lance's head whispered that he didn't really have to know Chad to do that, but that wasn't Lance's way, and besides, he needed to be there for Justin. Justin needed to feel like he had Lance's support, and that Lance would always be here to protect him, and he couldn't do that if Lance seemed to be splitting his focus. He should just go talk to Chad, and tell him that he was flattered, but the timing was off. He needed to take care of Justin, not worry about other things. There would be other times, and other boys, but his friends were more important. 

He couldn't figure out Chad, anyway. Lance was sure, completely sure, that Chad was now avoiding him. He'd looked around for him at the concert, but last night, for the first time on the tour, Chad had actually skipped coming to the show. When they got back, Lance waited for Justin to get into the shower, and then called Chad's room, which he shared with Randy, one of the other support staff. Randy had haltingly explained to Lance that Chad wasn't around, that he didn't know where Chad was, that he didn't know what time he left, that he didn't know when he'd be back, but that he'd tell Chad Lance was looking for him. He'd explained all of that haltingly, pausing after each question Lance asked, and Lance was sure that Randy was covering the phone with his hand and asking Chad what to say. Maybe Chad had been embarrassed about kissing Lance, thinking that he had crossed a line and Lance might be upset. Or, more probably, Lance had been a completely bad kisser. That wasn't his fault, though. He'd been caught completely off guard, and he couldn't be expected to perform well under those circumstances. 

Of course, worrying about how well he had kissed Chad, and what Chad thought of it, brought him back to the original issue of how he felt about Chad, and the host of other issues that went with it. In addition to his work as a personal assistant, Chad also seemed to be making a career out of getting on Jack's bad side. How could Lance ever get anything serious going with someone that one of his closest friends wanted to back over with a tour bus most days? Wait, why was he even thinking about getting serious with Chad? What about Justin? What about everybody? Why was everything always so complicated and hard to deal with? Why couldn't everything, just once, work out right without the drama and angst and agony that seemed to follow them everywhere? 

Venting an angry noise of frustration, Lance threw his notebook across the bus and buried his face in his hands, holding his breath. He jumped in surprise when he heard Justin speak, not realizing he was awake. 

"Whatever's eating you, throwing your notebook won't make it go away," Justin said, putting it back down in front of Lance without opening it. "Is something bothering you?" 

"No, not really," Lance said, not wanting to have to explain to Justin what he was writing about. He remembered that he and Justin had promised not to lie to each other, though. "I mean, something is, but I don't really want to talk about it, ok?" 

"OK," Justin said, nodding. He leaned back against the counter of the little kitchen, his arms crossed, and Lance tried to read the expression on his face. It was neutral, completely unreadable, something Justin hadn't been able to manage with him in quite a while. "Lance, are you mad at me?" 

"What?" Lance asked, surprised. Where had that come from? "Why would I be mad at you?" 

"For talking to Joey," Justin answered. "For hugging him last night." 

"I'm not mad," Lance answered, sighing. "I just, I guess I don't understand. I mean, he hurt you, Justin, really badly. I know what we talked about, but really, how can you just drop everything and be friends with him again?" 

"I told you, Lance, what he did isn't any worse than what I did," Justin said, his eyes locked on Lance's. "I hurt you the first time because I thought I was helping Josh. Joey hurt me the first time because he thought he was helping you. I hurt you the second time, with Howie, because I needed to help you, and I thought it was the only way. Joey hurt me in the bathroom the other night because he needed to help me, and he thought it was the only way to get through to me. It's the same thing, Lance. I know that you, you have me on this pedestal, or something, and it means you can't see me that way, but he hasn't done anything I haven't. If you hate him for it, you hate me for it, too." 

"Justin," Lance began, trapped by his logic. He liked Justin a lot better when he was crying and in need, not when he was so calmly rational, and trying to help Lance. 

"Do you hate me?" Justin asked calmly. Lance shook his head. "Then you can't hate Joey, either." 

"Justin, there's some other stuff between Joey and I," Lance said, not wanting to raise the specter of an attraction between him and Justin. It might threaten Justin, might make him second guess himself next time he reached out to Lance for comfort, and Lance didn't want that. "It's not that simple, ok?" 

"OK," Justin said, nodding. "Do you need to talk about it? It might help." 

"No," Lance said, shaking his head. "No, I don't want to." 

"He didn't want to do it, Lance," Justin said, turning back as he began to walk toward the bathroom. "I saw his face, in the bathroom. I looked back. What Joey said, it hurt him as much as it hurt me, maybe more, and whatever else he did to you, whatever you're mad about, I bet he didn't do it to hurt you, either." 

Justin walked down the bus and into the bathroom, and Lance could almost feel the divide between them. He'd had the same feeling yesterday, before the concert, the feeling that Justin was blocking him. Maybe it was his own issues that he felt. After all, he was shielding things from Justin, and maybe Justin sensed that. Maybe Lance was just picking up on the reflection. Tucking his journal into his bag, he wondered again why everything had to be so damned complicated, and why things were so hard. When Justin came back from the bathroom, he went back to his solitary video game, and they rode in silence for a while. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Lance noticed Justin getting more and more tense and fidgety, picking at his clothes, pacing up and down the bus aisle, and Lance finally broke the silence between them. 

"Justin, what's wrong?" he asked. 

Justin looked up in surprise from the magazine that he was reading for the fifth time, flipping through the pages so fast that he couldn't actually be looking at the words on them. 

"Nothing," Justin said sharply, blinking. He glanced at his watch as Lance stared at him levelly. "OK, something. I, um, I need to tell you something, but, um, I don't want you to, you know, to take it the wrong way, or anything, ok?" 

"Justin, whatever it is, you can tell me," Lance said, walking over to the couch. He sat down next to Justin, who watched him with wide eyes as he chewed on his bottom lip. "It's ok, Justin. What's wrong?" 

"I, um, while I was in the bathroom, before, I called the hotel," Justin said, almost whispering. Lance strained to hear him, but then Justin looked up, swallowing. "I want my own room tonight." 

"What?" Lance blurted, stunned. "Justin, what's wrong? Is it about Joey? Because I can try harder to not be mad at him, I swear. I didn't know it was that important to you." 

"It's not Joey," Justin said, holding his hands tightly together so that Lance wouldn't be able to see them shaking. He could do this, he knew he could. "I just, I feel like I'm ready to have my own space again, to try, you know, to try to be a little normal again, to sleep by myself. I'm not mad at you, Lance, I told you yesterday, I don't want to be afraid any more. I want to do normal things again, to be normal again, and I feel like this is something I have to do." 

Lance felt a thousand questions swirling inside of him. Why was Justin pushing him away like this? Where did this suddenly come from? Justin had cried against him so many times yesterday, and last night. Why did he suddenly think now that he didn't need Lance to lean on? 

"Are you sure?" Lance asked. "I mean, this is so, this is sudden, Justin. Did I do something? If I did, please, Justin, please tell me." 

"No, no," Justin said, shaking his head. He wanted to reach out to Lance, wanted to hold his hand and tell him everything was ok, but he knew if he did that he wouldn't be able to hold this together, and that Lance would see through him. He had to keep the mask on, had to keep everything in place, for Lance's own good, because Lance needed things that he couldn't have with Justin underfoot. "Lance, you've done more for me than anyone ever has, ever, and you know how much it means to me. I know that if I get scared tonight, I can call you, or come to your room, and it'll be ok. I just, I need to do this, ok? I have to do this. Please." 

Lance heard the conviction in his voice, but it still all seemed wrong somehow, didn't seem to line up quite right. He was looking into Justin's eyes, but they were completely without depth, flat and closed off. 

"If you're sure, Justin," Lance said finally, wishing he understood this. Maybe seeing Nick had given Justin resolve, somehow, to try to get better. Maybe Justin really meant this. "But if you get scared, you can still call me. You know that." 

"I know," Justin said, nodding. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. Lance had believed him. 

---

CHAPTER 120

---

JACK'S POV: 

"You're aware that's cheating, right?" Andrew asked, staring at me. My eyes met his over the top of my "Chess for Dummies" book. 

"It's not cheating," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just trying to broaden my mind, and better myself in a hobby that my husband and I happen to share, and which he happens to be better than I am at. I'm leveling the playing field, that's all." 

Andrew grinned, shaking his head. 

"And I see you've been hard at work rationalizing it, too," he said, laughing. "Spend a while working out that speech?" 

"Not really," I answered. "It's just part of my natural charm and wit." 

"Yet another puddle from your endless stream of bullshit," Andrew said, going back to the newspaper. He was on his third one, and had already shown me each mention of Justin's reportedly violent illness. Most of the speculation had been squelched by the concert last night, but some days it still seemed like Justin couldn't fart without someone, somewhere, printing it. "Does JC know you're reading that book?" 

"He knows I'm reading a book, " I answered evasively. It wasn't really an answer, since I was always reading a book. Josh and I frequently read the same books, which gave us something else to talk about, but he didn't know I was reading this one. My competitive streak wouldn't let me lose another chess game without at least putting up a good fight. 

"But he doesn't know you're reading that one," Andrew said, nodding. "You know, Jack, I have a professional obligation to report to JC everything that goes on while I'm watching you. It look like I'm going to have to report this, too." 

"Oh really?" I asked sarcastically. "And what would it take to make you turn away from your professional obligations, and keep this quiet?" 

Andrew's newspaper rustled thoughtfully, and when it dropped he was grinning at me. 

"Get me a date with Britney Spears," he suggested, almost giggling. 

"Sorry," I said, sighing. I hadn't even spoken to Britney since before I was kidnapped. "We lost Britney in the breakup. We don't get to talk to her anymore. Besides, I heard that all she does since they broke up is eat too much, and then diet." 

"Damn," he sighed, lifting the paper again. 

The two of us were killing time in my hotel room, Andrew sitting in the chair and me lying on the bed. I was supposed to leave in about an hour to head over to the college where I was speaking, but until then they had given me this free time to rest, as if flying from New York to Boston was somehow exhausting. Andrew had a room of his own, next door, but I didn't feel like hanging out by myself, and apparently neither did he. I pushed the open box of chocolates on the bed toward him with my foot. 

"More Godiva?" I asked. 

"Does he want you fat or something?" Andrew asked, reaching blindly into the box to take one. "I've never seen someone send so much candy. I mean, you get a box like once a week from him." 

"Josh forgets that we don't all have his metabolism," I said, stealing myself another truffle. "You and I are hitting the hotel gym in the morning, Mr. Bodyguard." 

"There are mornings when we don't?" he asked. In much the same way Hank had gone running with Chris and I in the mornings, Andrew had fallen into my routine, too. If I went to the gym, so did he, although I would have preferred not to. When we were home Chris or I drove to each other's houses, and jogged our neighborhoods, or went to a beach trail, but when we traveled, we all had to make do with gyms. 

"Andrew, what happened to you?" I asked, wondering. He looked up again, trying to read my face. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. "When did something happen to me?" 

"I don't know," I answered. "That's why I was asking. Between when I met you, and now, what the hell happened to you?" 

Andrew frowned. 

"Oh, that question," he said, nodding. "You want to know when I actually started to like you guys." 

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "I mean, when you started, I didn't know what to think. You were always giving us these weird looks, and making funny comments, and some days it seemed like you were actually hostile." 

"Well, I kind of was," Andrew said, shrugging. My eyebrows went up in surprise. "I took this job because Hank said you were nice guys, and you were a lot of fun, but I didn't really believe him. Most of the other people I've worked with, it's like I'm an accessory. I follow them around, and we don't really talk much, and they certainly don't sit me at the table for dinner. Do you know how many times I've had to wait in the car while someone eats?" 

"No, not really," I said. It was so rare for Andrew to actually open up that I was afraid of saying much. "I never had a bodyguard before Hank, so I didn't really know how to treat one." 

"Hank told me that, too," Andrew said, smiling. "He said that JC would be really nice, but that you would be a little, um, resistant." 

"Look where that got me," I said, shaking my head. 

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," Andrew said, and saw my look of confusion. "On the first day, I said something about what happened to you, and it upset you. I just, I thought I had to take a hard line with you, right away, and make sure you didn't like me. This is going to sound really stupid, but, well, I figured I had to make sure we weren't really close, so that you and JC wouldn't, well, hit on me." 

"What?" I blurted, almost choking on the chocolate in my mouth. "You thought we'd hit on you? Did Hank tell you that? Because I never hit on Hank, ever, and I don't think Josh did, either." 

"No! No, Hank never said anything like that," Andrew said, blushing. His face was turning scarlet, as if he knew that what he was saying was stupid, and I realized that I'd never seen him blush before, ever. "Promise you're not going to get mad?" 

"I promise," I said quickly. Andrew knew so much about me, and my life, and I still didn't really know anything about him. "I won't get mad, or throw you one of my patented Jack Springer hissy fits, or pretend not to be mad but bitch at you later anyway, or anything." 

"Thanks," he said, grinning at me. Another crack in the stone face. "Before I came to work with you guys, I never really was close to any gay guys. I wasn't ever around any for very long, and I definitely wasn't friends with any. Where I grew up, there just weren't that many, and you only called someone that if you really wanted to hurt them. My father had very strong ideas about them, and he always told me about the agenda, and the way that they were always looking for straight guys to convert, and how you were all child molesters, and sissies, and everything else." 

"I thought you said you were from Seattle," I said, thinking back. "They must have gay guys out there." 

"I told you I lived in Seattle before I moved to LA, but I grew up in a little town outside of there," Andrew said. "Not so big. And I did see gay guys in Seattle, but only in passing, and my attitudes were kind of set by then, anyway. And remember that band I was in? How I told you it broke up? Well, the reason we broke up is that our singer told us, after we moved to LA, that he was gay, and he kept hitting on our drummer. He was straight, and he kept saying no, but it just made everything really uncomfortable, and every time we went out drinking or something he'd just start hitting on him again. It got to be really bad, and the band just kind of broke up after that." 

"And when you came to work with us, you thought Josh and I might hit on you?" I asked, kind of amused. "Why did you even take the job, if you thought we were these big flaming queers who were going to try to convert you to our secret agenda?" 

"Do you know how much you're paying me?' Andrew asked, grinning, as he reached for another chocolate. "I mean, have you seen those checks, Jack? You don't turn down that kind of money, and, like I said, I figured if I kept up this really severe distance between us, it would be ok." 

"So, what happened?" I asked. "You never answered my original question. I'm pretty sure we're friends, so how did that happen, exactly?" 

"Well, you know, I guess, with all the time we spend together, and seeing all your speeches and stuff," Andrew began, thinking about it, "I guess my opinion changed a little." 

"My speeches changed your opinion on gay people?" I blurted, stunned. Wow. I was amazing. 

"No," Andrew said, throwing a balled up candy wrapper at me. "You're not that good, Jack. I guess it was just, you know, hanging out with you guys. I didn't really know what to think when JC told me I was coming on your honeymoon, because I didn't know you guys got married. I mean, I knew, but I didn't think it was like a real marriage, you know? I didn't really think it would be the same way it is for a man and a woman, like if I got married, because I always thought that with you guys, it was just about sex." 

"Hey, we eat sometimes, too, " I said, trying to keep it light. 

"I know," Andrew said, smiling again. "It's just that seeing you guys so much, and seeing the way you act with each other, I can see that it's love. It's not just the sex. You guys hang out, and you drink beer, and JC watches football. When the two of you are together, you go to movies, and out to eat, and all the kind of stuff that I would do if I was on a date. The two of you aren't like these big, sissy fags. The two of you are just like regular guys, except that, you know, you go home with each other, instead of with girls." 

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," I said, smiling back at him. "I'm just like a regular guy." 

"Well, JC more than you," Andrew said, deliberately jerking my chain. "You're psycho and neurotic." 

"You think Josh is the butch one?" I gasped, feigning hurt like a true drama queen. "Have you seen the things he wears? It's not me who picks out sequined t-shirts and leather pants." 

"Whatever," Andrew said, lifting his paper again. Another thought occurred to me. 

"This is why you don't like Chad, isn't it?" I asked. "Because of the way he is?" 

"Not because he's gay, since I know that all of you aren't like him," Andrew clarified. "Bluntly, he annoys the shit out of me. He's like the really annoying girls who wanted to be friends with the cheerleaders in junior high. I'm sorry if that makes me, I don't know, a hate-mongering bigot or something, but I just can't tolerate him." 

I sighed. 

"I don't like him either," I admitted. 

"No! Really?" Andrew asked sarcastically. "Because you've been so good at covering it." 

"Shut up, asshole," I said, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. This is what I got for having a moment with Andrew. Sarcasm and mockery. "I'm just glad you're smart enough to realize that he isn't like that just because he's gay." 

"No, it's because he's an airheaded moron," Andrew said, lifting his paper again. 

"Exactly," I said, going back to my book. 

---

LANCE'S POV: 

Lance paced around the suite, trying to settle himself, and also trying to keep himself from walking across the hall to check on Justin. He knew that Justin was trying to take a step, and was trying to prove to himself that he could do things on his own, but Lance didn't for a second believe that it was just something Justin had decided to do. Lance knew Justin almost as well as he knew himself, or at least he thought he did, and seeing Nick up close like that should have made him shut down more. Seeing Nick, and being touched by him, should have made Justin even more fragile, more afraid. As far as Lance could guess, Justin should be barely functioning right now. Maybe that was it. Maybe Justin wanted his own room because he didn't want to be around anyone. Maybe this was his way of withdrawing completely, of blocking himself out from everyone. 

Or maybe it was because of something Lance had done. Lance couldn't think of what, couldn't think of anything, unless Justin blamed him for what happened. Maybe Justin thought that Lance should have been there, that Lance should have kept him from going into that bathroom by himself. Lance had promised to protect Justin, had promised over and over that Justin would always be safe and that Lance would never let anything happen to him, and he had failed. Maybe Justin couldn't forgive that, and just didn't want to tell him. It would explain Justin's weird behavior, the way he was pushing Lance away one second, and then crying in the bathroom and needing Lance to talk him through the next. He'd seen Justin do it before. When he couldn't face the way he felt about JC and Jack, he left the room until he got himself under control again, holding his face and keeping everything bottled up inside. If he was mad at Lance, why wouldn't he do the same thing? 

If he was right about Justin, he couldn't just leave him over there to think about it. What would happen if Justin had a nightmare? Who would go with him if he wanted to leave the suite, or if he wanted to stop by the hotel gym in the morning? He couldn't leave Justin over there by himself, especially if Justin felt hurt by him. Justin needed him, damn it, and he had to make sure he was there for him. He stalked over to the door, jerking it open, not sure of what he would say but knowing he needed to say something, and collided with Chad in the hallway. 

"Chad!" he blurted, surprised. Chad was holding an empty bag, so he must have just come from JC's room. It was the first time Lance had seen him since the kiss at the doorway. 

"Lance!" Chad blurted, his eyes going wide over his tight white t-shirt, a sliver of his flat stomach showing above his flared jeans with their jangling wallet chain. Immediately Chad's face began to turn red, and he stepped back. "I, uh, I." 

He jerked, as if he was going to bolt down the hall, and Lance put a hand on his arm. 

"Wait, Chad, please," Lance said. "Can I talk to you? Please? About the other day?" 

"I know I shouldn't have done that!" Chad blurted, nearly hysterical, breathing quickly. "I know I shouldn't have kissed you and it was completely inappropriate and I should have asked first, and I'm so, so sorry! Please don't be mad, please, I didn't mean it, it was nothing, I swear!" 

"It was nothing?" Lance asked, tilting his head to one side. "Because you said you kind of liked me." 

"I didn't mean it!" Chad said quickly, watching Lance's face. His expression grew a little less panicked. "Or, um, I don't think I did, unless you're not mad, and then, you know, maybe I did mean it, a little." 

"Look, Chad," Lance said, sighing. "I think we need to talk, and we obviously have a lot to talk about. Do you want to go downstairs and get some dinner?" 

"You want to go out to dinner?" Chad asked, tugging on his shirt, his hair standing in wildly gelled spikes, fake diamonds glittering in both ears. "I'm not dressed for dinner. I mean, I need a better outfit for that, you know? I can't go out like this, not with you, not with Lance Bass." 

"Stop, please," Lance said, putting a hand over Chad's mouth. "I'm asking you to come eat with me. Not Lance Bass. Me. And you're dressed fine for downstairs. We're just going to sit in the back, and talk, and get something to eat, ok?" 

Chad nodded, and Lance took his hand away, trying not to think about how soft Chad's face was. As they walked down the hall, Chad a little behind Lance, he raised his hand to his mouth and touched it, thinking about how Lance just had his hand there. Lance just touched him, right there, on his face, and now he wanted to have dinner with him, too. Lance Bass! Chad had to restrain himself from clapping his hands and squealing out loud as he followed Lance to the elevators. 

In his room across the hall, Justin watched them go, and smiled a little. He'd known that once he slid out of the picture, once he wasn't in the way distracting Lance so much, being so needy, that Lance would start to think about himself again. Things were working out already. Justin turned back to the room, aware suddenly that he was here alone. He'd already gone through and looked in all the closets, and under the bed, and he had fastened every lock on the door. He would be safe here, as long as he didn't leave the room. If he stayed in here, nothing, and no one, could get at him. He thought about going down to the gift shop, to get a magazine, but he didn't want to go by himself, and something could happen to him out there, something bad. He could watch television, but he might see him again, on one of the channels. There wasn't anything he could do, nothing that was safe, besides sitting here, and watching the doors. If he let his guard down, even for a second, something could happen. He remembered turning his back and being tackled to the floor, the carpet rushing up at him, and squeezed his eyes closed, breathing hard. He couldn't let that happen again, he couldn't. 

Downstairs, Chad laughed brightly at something Lance said, and Lance sat back and settled in for a nice, long dinner, his concern for Justin temporarily forgotten as he focused on his other problem. Even though they were supposed to be talking about the other night, Lance and Chad both avoided bringing it up, talking about the tour, the city, the show tomorrow night, anything they could think of that would keep them from having to talk about the kiss in the hallway. As dinner progressed, though, they began to run out of ways to dance around it, and when dessert came, Lance finally raised the subject. He still wasn't sure how he felt about Chad, if he liked him as a friend or if he liked him in a way that left other possibilities open, but he couldn't just leave things hanging where they stood, either. 

"Chad, I think we still need to talk about the other night," Lance said finally. Chad's head jerked up, his fork severing his pie and striking the plate so loudly the whole restaurant must have heard it. "Please don't start apologizing again like you did in the hallway." 

"OK," Chad said, chewing. "Should I say something else? I don't want to say the wrong thing, or upset you, or say something stupid, or make a bigger ass of myself than I already have." 

"You haven't made an ass of yourself, Chad," Lance said, smiling. "I guess, um, what you did the other night, and what you said, it kind of surprised me a little. I mean, it's not like I get kissed at the door every day." 

"Was it bad?" Chad asked, blushing. 

"I didn't say that," Lance said. Chad was so cute when he blushed, looking all sheepish and bashful. "It was over so fast it's hard to say if it was good or bad." 

Chad looked stricken, and Lance quickly jumped in, trying to cover it. Why couldn't he talk tonight? 

"Not that I didn't like it," Lance said quickly, covering. "It was nice, just, you know, a surprise. I guess I wanted to talk more about what you said, about, you know, liking me." 

"I guess I do," Chad said quickly. Now Lance looked a little surprised. "I mean, not, I guess, but I do, you know, I like you. It's nice to hang out with you, and you're so polite, and nice, and handsome, and, you know, I haven't ever really known a lot of guys like you." 

"Uh, thanks," Lance said, wondering exactly what a guy like him was like. "That's really nice of you to say, but, you know, I'm not like that special, or anything. I'm just a regular guy, Chad." 

"No, you're not," Chad said. "You're different. You haven't dated a lot of guys, have you?" 

"No, not really," Lance answered. Did what happened between him and Justin count as dating? "I, um, I haven't dated a lot, but they were pretty, uh, intense." 

"I can tell," Chad said. Lance looked up at him questioningly. "Your eyes are dark sometimes, like you've seen terrible things, but other times you look so, I don't know, so innocent. A lot of the guys I've been with are really jaded, and bitchy, and you're not like that." 

"I don't think I've dated enough to be jaded," Lance said, shaking his head. 

"That's not a bad thing," Chad said. He swallowed, staring at Lance again. "Lance, when I told you I liked you, you haven't really told me anything. Do you like me? It's ok if you don't." 

"Chad, I don't know," Lance said honestly. "I mean, I like you as a friend. I think you're a great person, but do I like like you? That way? I don't know." 

"That's ok," Chad said, folding up his napkin. He looked disappointed, a little crushed, and started to reach for his wallet, to pay for his half of dinner. Lance laid a hand on his arm, sending a shiver through him. 

"I didn't say I didn't want to find out," Lance said. Chad blinked at him. "I guess what I'm saying, Chad, is that I don't know if I like you that way, but I'm open to the possibility, and I might like to, um, to explore it." 

"Explore it?" Chad asked, carefully plucked eyebrows raised. Lance grinned. 

"I'm saying I'd like to try going out with you, somewhere," Lance said, almost giggling. Chad sighed, settling back into his chair, and they were both quiet. 

"So, uh, what do we do now?" Chad asked, finishing his pie. 

"Well, I'm not real experienced with this whole dating thing," Lance began, grinning again, "but I think now we sort of, you know, go on one." 

"We're at dinner," Chad pointed out. "Does that count?" 

"It's a start," Lance said. "There's a, um, a garden terrace thing attached to the hotel. You want to go for a walk?" 

Chad beamed. 

"Yeah," he answered, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, I do." 

As they walked through the garden, Chad keeping up a steady stream of semi-nervous babble, Lance let his mind drift. It was nice hanging out with Chad, knowing that Chad liked him, but that he didn't really need anything from him. Chad seemed happy just being around Lance, walking with him, talking with him, chattering away about the guys and the band and a lot of other stuff that Lance took for granted and never really gave a thought to. Despite the fact that they had both decided that this was, in fact, a date, neither had made a move to hold hands, or do more than just walk along beside each other. It gave Chad a little more time to adjust to being with Lance, let him calm down a little, and it gave Lance a comfortable space to be in, a safety zone, and it also gave him time to try to figure out what exactly was going on here. 

He hadn't lied to Chad, exactly. He did like him, and liked hanging out with him, but did he like him enough? The honest answer, right now, was that no, he didn't. At the moment, he was just kind of going through the motions, waiting to see if, given time, he might grow to like Chad. Right now it was nice to be with someone pleasant who didn't need him so much, but that was about all he felt. On some physical level, he could admit that he was attracted to Chad, that he liked the thin contours of Chad's body, and his hair, and that Chad had pretty eyes, so blue and soft, and on a more mental level, he liked Chad's personality, once they hung out long enough for Chad to relax and let it shine through. The rest was where his confusion came from, though. 

When he had been with Howie, in the beginning, there had been an immediate attraction between them. The first time he looked into Howie's eyes, really looked, the wind had been knocked right out of him. He'd tripped over his own feet and almost fallen down, feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. Considering the way the relationship had turned out, getting punched in the stomach was a pretty apt metaphor, but Lance pushed that thought away, thinking that it was a little more bitterly sarcastic than his usual ones. Maybe he was hanging out with Jack too much. Getting back to the problem at hand, though, he was confused because being around Chad wasn't the same as being around Howie had been. He didn't feel that punch in the gut, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. Did love always feel the same way, or was it different every time? Maybe it was different every time, with every guy, or maybe this was supposed to be telling him that Chad was all wrong for him. 

"Lance?" Chad asked, tapping him on the shoulder. 

"Huh?" Lance said, jerking his head up. 

"I asked you the same question twice," Chad said, smiling a little. "I think maybe I got my answer." 

"I'm sorry," Lance said, blinking. Chad didn't look mad, so whatever answer he had interpreted from Lance's behavior couldn't be a bad one, but that still didn't make it ok. "What was the question?" 

"I asked if you wanted to turn in for the night," Chad said, turning toward the elevators. Lance followed. "You look kind of tired, and a little out of it, so I asked if you wanted to say good night and call an end to our evening." 

"I'm sorry," Lance said, blushing a little. "I guess I just, you know, tune out sometimes. Justin calls it turning space cadet. He says sometimes it's like he's still down here on earth, and I'm up orbiting the planet." 

"It's nice that you guys are so close," Chad said neutrally. "I always heard about how you're all brothers, but it's nice to see that it's true." 

"Yeah, that's us," Lance said. "Brothers." 

They traveled the rest of the way through the hotel without talking, and before they realized it, they were back at Lance's room. The hallway was empty, and quiet, and they both stood uncomfortably at the door, looking at their shoes, or the walls, or anywhere but at each other. 

"Well, um, good night," Chad said. "I had a really nice time, and I guess, um, I hope you call me." 

He started to turn away, and Lance put a hand on his arm. 

"Chad, remember that kiss the other night?" he asked, curious. "How about we try it again, a little slower?" 

Before Chad could answer, Lance was pulling him a little closer, both of them leaning in, and then Chad's eyes closed as his heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't really be doing this, couldn't really be kissing Lance, Lance Bass! Against all odds, though, he felt Lance's lips softly brushing his own, pressing a little, but not really lingering, and then when he opened his eyes he saw Lance's green ones backing away. 

"Much better," Lance said, keying his suite open. It was better slower, but he still hadn't really felt that flutter, that twitter of excitement. "Good night, Chad." 

"Night," Chad said softly, trying not to pass out. 

Across the hall, Justin watched through his peephole, listening to them through the door. Everything was working out for Lance, it seemed. Everything was going to be ok for him, and he would finally have the chance to be happy, the chance that Justin had ruined for him so many times before. Justin slid down the door, trying to ignore the tears streaming down his face, and forcing himself to think about what was best for Lance. 

 

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