JC's Hitchhiker

 

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CHAPTER 106

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JACK'S POV: 

My spirits were a little down during lunch, despite the festive atmosphere of the restaurant. We had gone to a pretty run of the mill family fun type of bar and restaurant, one of the kind of places with perky staff, brightly striped tables, and a bunch of crap on the walls. I was never sure what the intent in decorating these places was, as I'd never been in a real house decorated like this. It gave the impression that they had cleaned out a couple of garages, or maybe bought out a few yard sales, and just nailed everything they found to the inside of the restaurant. Andrew and Josh had both suggested it, since it was near the lawyer's office, but they were both slowly realizing that it wasn't working as a pick me up. If anything, looking around at all of the happy parents and families was just serving as more of a reminder of what I didn't have. 

"Jack?" Josh asked. I looked up from my mozzarella sticks, distracting myself from the comfort that fried cheese provides. "You're not having fun, are you?" 

"No, I'm sorry," I answered. Andrew looked up from his huge, bloody steak, and Josh had laid his silverware carefully on the side of his shrimp and pasta platter. "Guys, go ahead, enjoy lunch. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" Josh asked. He glanced at Andrew. "Andrew, do you think maybe you could?" 

"No," I said quickly, putting a hand on Andrew's shoulder as he started to rise. "There's no point in your steak getting cold. Josh, I guess I'm just kind of depressed. I mean, I thought I was so close, and we find a really nice lady who's not my mother, and a burned down house where the other candidate used to be. This is just frustrating, and a little draining. I feel all keyed up inside, but then when we hit a dead end again, I have this let down. I just feel like I've been riding on a roller coaster since we landed." 

"Do you want to stop?" Josh asked, looking carefully at me. "We don't have to go see the lawyer. He's open tomorrow, or the next day. We could just take a day off, if you need to." 

I thought about it, but shook my head. 

"No, I'd rather just do this today, and get it over with," I said finally, picking up another breaded strip of cheese. 

"Jack, I don't want you stressed," Josh said, swallowing. He looked a little sad as he stared into my eyes, and I folded a hand over his on the table. "After, you know, last night, and then the stuff today, I don't want you on this emotional spin, Jack. It's not good for you. I don't want you to have an attack. If you need to take a day to breathe, to do nothing and collect yourself, please take it. We still have almost a week. We don't have to rush." 

"I know, Josh," I said. "And I know you're just worried about me, but I think I'm ok. I feel a little emotional, and a little upset, but I also feel pretty stable. I think I'll be fine, and I'm not just saying that to make you feel better, ok?" 

"OK," Josh said, smiling. I glanced at Andrew, and saw him going back to his steak with a weird look on his face, but, like so many of his other looks, I couldn't read it. 

Eventually, however much I was both dreading and anticipating it, lunch was over, and it was time to drive back over to the attorney's office. We drove the couple of blocks over, watching the storefront businesses give way to houses again, with businesses mixed among them. We pulled up across the street, as we had before, and stared out the window at Travis Favato's offices. Unlike the previous trip, there was now a car in the driveway, but only one. 

"Could be him, could be the secretary," Andrew said, shrugging. 

"Only one way to find out," I said, opening my door. "Andrew, could you stay in the car, please?" 

"Sure," he answered, watching in the rearview as Josh and I got out. "Same instructions as yesterday: Don't get killed." 

"He just gets funnier and funnier," I said dryly as Josh and I walked, hand in hand, up the sidewalk. We climbed the porch again, and Josh squeezed my hand quickly, tightly, as I reached up and rapped the heavy brass knocker. We heard footsteps coming down the hall, and then the door swung open, and a short, older man with white hair and little round glasses was looking up at us. "Hello?" 

He looked at us thoughtfully, his head cocked to the side as his eyes ticked back and forth between the two of us. He was wearing a vest and matching slacks, as if he had come to work and taken off his suit jacket, leaving it on a chair somewhere. His hair was neatly parted and completely white, and I figured he had to be the guy we were looking for. 

"So, Jackson Springer," he said, surprising us both. He held out his hand, and I shook it. He did the same for Josh. "JC Chasez, the famous husband. A pleasure to meet you, and Jackson, a pleasure to see you again. You don't remember me, I'm sure, but I always thought that you would come back here someday. I'm Travis Favato, and I was at the hospital the night you were born." 

I stood on the doorstep, trying to process. We hadn't had to argue, explain who we were, or ask for anything. He knew who we were, and he had been there when I was born. He had our answers, and he seemed like he might actually give them. He stepped aside, holding the door open, and Josh gave me a little nudge. I blinked, shaking my head, unfreezing my feet from the porch, and we followed him inside. He smiled at us again, gesturing for us to follow him, and we walked down the hall, hand in hand, to his office. Stepping inside, he sat behind a wide, empty desk, and Josh and I sat across from him in a pair of chairs. Josh looked over at me, smiling encouragingly, and Mr. Favato watched us from his seat, waiting, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. 

"Did you, did Evelyn and Jackson, senior, call you?" I asked, a little confused. "Did they tell you I was coming?" 

"No, they didn't," he answered, leaning back a little. The office was nice, tastefully decorated, with a lot of wood and those brass lamps with green shades that seem to show up in every lawyer's office. 

"Then how did you know I would be here?" I asked. Next to me, Josh nodded. "How did you know I would come?" 

"I didn't know you would come today," he said, shrugging. "I thought you would, since I heard last night that you were in town. You two might think you're blending in around here, but people notice, and people still talk, especially with the two of you being so high profile right now. I knew that someday you would come back here, though, that someday you would want answers, because it's in your blood. It's what your mother would have done. Your birth mother, I mean, not Evelyn." 

"Nancy?" I asked. "Nancy Richardson?" 

Travis smiled and nodded. 

"I see you've been doing your homework," he said. "You'll have to let me know how you did that, because I know Jack, senior, didn't tell you. I'm impressed, actually, but not surprised. Nancy was very intelligent, and from what I've seen of your television interviews, and read in magazines, you inherited that, too, along with her sense of integrity, and some good, strong values. I know they say those things aren't all genetic, that some of it comes from the environment, but I see so much of her in you." 

"Please, please, tell me what you know," I said, hearing my voice shake a little. "Please tell me everything. We've come so far, and I just, I really just want to know." 

"I understand," Travis said, nodding. "I didn't mean to sound evasive. I'm not sure what you guys know already, or what I should cover." 

"We don't know anything," I blurted, a little louder than I should have. Josh rested his hand on my shoulder for a second. 

"Jack," he said quietly, squeezing gently. 

"I'm ok," I said, offering him a tight smile as I reached up to rest my hand on top of his, feeling the strength there beneath his soft skin. I turned back to Travis. "You seem to know at least a little about me. Did my parents stay in touch with you?" 

"No, I haven't spoken to them since you were a year old," Travis answered. "Your father told me that they weren't planning to tell you until you were older. I'm assuming they did?" 

"Not exactly," I answered. "I overheard Evelyn telling Josh, and I kind of drug it out of her, but she didn't really seem to know anything." 

"She wasn't involved," Travis said, standing. He crossed his office to a small refrigerator, hidden in a cabinet, and removed a bottled water. He held one out to Josh and I, and we each took one. "Before you were born, I used to live in Ohio, near your parents. Your father and I worked together, not in the same department, of course, but I was a lawyer for the company, and he was in marketing. We were friends, and our wives as well, but my wife wasn't well. I asked for a transfer out here, where it was drier, and the desert did her a lot of good. I stayed in touch with your parents, casually, and that's how I found out that they wanted to adopt another child. I knew that Nancy was looking for a good family for her child, and after I thought about it, I asked her if she might want to arrange something. She met your father, and after talking to him, she agreed." 

"I don't understand, though, " I said. "How did you happen to know her? How did you know that she was looking for a family?" 

"That's a longer story," Travis answered, picking up a cardboard box, neatly closed but still looking pretty old, and set it down on the desktop. "When I heard that you were in town, I went downstairs to the storage rooms, in the basement, and I got this out. I haven't opened it in a while, but I'm sure everything is still here. I made a promise to Nancy that if you ever came, and wanted to know what had happened, and where you came from, that I would show all of this to you someday." 

I felt my eyes tear a little, and I inhaled sharply as the realization struck me. 

"She died, didn't she?" I asked. "She made you promise because she died." 

Josh leaned over and squeezed an arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly, as he rested his head against the side of mine. He knew it, too, and Travis sighed unhappily as he stood with the box, undoing the tape. 

"I'm sorry, Jack," he said finally. "You're right, and I'm sorry she couldn't be here herself." 

"I waited too long," I said, feeling angry suddenly. I stood, and Josh stood with me, but I pulled away from him a little, pacing. Tears began to trickle down my face. "Why did they wait so long to tell me? Why didn't they ever give me a chance to know her?" 

"Jack," Josh said softly, holding his arms out to me. I stepped into them, and laid my head down on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry." 

I felt a hand gently tap my shoulder from the other side. I turned, and saw Travis staring at me, his face gentle and concerned. 

"Jack, it wouldn't have made any difference," Travis said quietly. "Please, I know this isn't news you wanted to hear, that this can't have been the way you hoped to find out about this, but this doesn't have to be a sad day. It wouldn't have mattered when you found out, Jack. Please don't be angry at your parents for not telling you." 

"I'm sorry," I said to both of them, looking around for tissues. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this." 

"Under the circumstances I think it's understandable," Travis said, smiling. "Why don't we sit down again? I have so much to show you, and tell you." 

As we sat back down I slid my chair closer to Josh, and we linked hands again. Travis lifted the lid off of the box, and reached in, taking out a framed photograph. He passed it to me, and I saw a girl, maybe nineteen. The picture was old, obviously, the clothes a little outdated, but she looked bright and happy, vibrant and alive. 

"Jack, she has your eyes," Josh said quietly, his fingers brushing the glass of the frame, just below her face. "She has your hair, too. Or, you know, you have hers." 

I smiled back at him, and we looked up to see Travis smiling at us. 

"That's your mother, Jack," Travis said. "That's Nancy Richardson's senior portrait, from her last year of high school. That's how she looked when I met her, the day that she walked in here and asked me to represent her, so that she could sue her high school." 

Josh and I both blinked at him, surprised. I'm not sure what kind of story I thought I would hear, but this definitely wasn't it. 

"Why?" Josh asked. "People didn't do that in the seventies, did they?" 

"It was rather surprising at the time," Travis agreed, nodding. "When she came in, I thought maybe it was some sort of joke, a prank of some kind. My secretary, a nice woman, wasn't going to let her in, but it was a quiet day, and I was intrigued. When she came in, though, when she sat down right across from me, where you are now, I took one look at her face, and I could see that she was deadly serious. She wanted to sue her high school to force them to allow her to remain in classes, and not put her in special class away from the main student body." 

"Why did they want to remove her?" I asked, just waiting to hear that she was an arsonist or a problem child of some sort. It wouldn't be at all surprising. "Did she, you know, was she in trouble?" 

"That's one way of saying it, " Travis answered. "She was pregnant, and the high school had a policy of removing pregnant young women from regular classes when they started to show. Most schools at the time did, but she had an argument neatly mapped out on this pad that she brought with her, explaining why the classes were inferior, and how she was being denied the right to her education. I tried arguing it with her, explaining to her that the school had this policy for a reason, because of the parents and the community. I didn't talk about morals, didn't say it, but she caught the gist of it. She asked what I thought, what I personally thought about her, an unwed teenage girl still in high school, sitting in my office pregnant." 

"And what did you tell her?" I asked, holding the picture, trying to imagine this girl sitting in here, in chairs much like these. What had her voice sounded like? What kind of words would she use? 

"Well, I started to say that I could understand how a girl like her could get into trouble, and make a mistake, and she cut me off right there," he said, smiling. Josh and I waited. "She had a lot of spark, Nancy did, and she said, 'OK, for starters, my baby is not a mistake. If you're going to be my lawyer, you can stop calling it that right now. It may not be planned, but I will not call it a mistake.' I looked at her, and I pointed out that I hadn't agreed to be her lawyer yet, and she laughed, and told me that I'd take the case. You know what? I did. She wasn't showing yet, wasn't even two months along, but she had goals, and she wasn't going to let the school stand in the way of them." 

"What happened?" Josh asked. "If she cared that much about Jack, why didn't she keep him?" 

"You have to know a little bit about her situation to understand that," Travis said, leaning back. "The Richardsons didn't have a lot of money, or really, any. They could barely support themselves, and it was just the three of them. Nancy was an only child. Her mother worked here in town, as a housekeeper, and her father couldn't work. He'd been injured in a car accident, a hit and run, and couldn't walk. Nancy wanted to get out of this town, and she had the intelligence and the determination to try for it, but she didn't want to leave her family behind. She pushed herself in school, and had extremely high grades. She wanted to go to college, and her parents, they wanted her to go. She had all her dreams mapped out. She was going to go away, on a scholarship, to one of the state schools, and get a job where she could help support her parents. And then she found out that she was pregnant, and she was afraid that the high school would block her, and she saw all her plans about to collapse, so she did the only thing she knew how to do. She decided to fight." 

"Wait," I interjected, curious. "What about, did she ever say anything about my father?" 

"No," Travis answered, shaking his head. "I asked her, not that day, but after I'd known her for a while, when she was pretty far along with you, and she said that he wanted nothing to do with you. When she told him she was pregnant, he refused to believe that you were his, so Nancy washed her hands of him. She was sure, but she wasn't going to force him." 

"Gosh, she doesn't sound at all like anyone we know," Josh said, smiling. I smacked him lightly on the arm. 

"What happened with the lawsuit?" I asked. "Did you guys go through with it?" 

"Yes, yes we did," he answered, reaching into the box again. He pulled out a small book, like a photo album. "When you get time, I'm sure you'll want to read that. It's all the articles about the lawsuit, which, at the time was rather groundbreaking, at least around here. There was a lot of protest from the school board, and from some of the groups here in town, a few of the pushier churches. We fought hard, though, and whenever I felt like giving up, Nancy gave me a little kick, and we went back to work. She couldn't really afford to pay me, of course, but she insisted on doing something, so I had her in here after school, helping out. My secretary was a little scandalized at first, but Nancy grew on us both, and we began to enjoy having her around. She was so bright, and funny, and she treated everything as if it was completely serious but also completely humorous at the same time. We won the lawsuit, by the way. Actually, it was a settlement. The school agreed to let her stay in her classes, finally, to end the publicity." 

"What about the rest of it?" I asked. Beside me, Josh nodded. I set the scrapbook aside, to look at later. "If she fought that hard, if she felt that strongly, why did she give me up? Why did she want to find a family to give me to, if she was so close to hers?" 

"That was an extremely painful decision for her to make," Travis said, sighing. "I came in one day, and she was sitting out at the front desk, in tears. Mona, my secretary, was handing her tissues, and looked like she was about to cry as well. I asked what was going on, and the two of them explained to me that Nancy had been talking to her parents, and praying, and thinking, and that she had come to the decision that she couldn't keep you." 

"Because it would stop her from going to college?" I asked, surprised that the girl I had heard so much about would do something so selfish. She didn't sound like she was happy about it, but still, she wanted to get rid of me because I was blocking her goals. 

"No," Travis answered. "That was a concern, but not the real reason. The honest truth was that they couldn't afford to keep you. She could have had you, but you would have lived out your entire life in poverty. Nancy wouldn't have gone to college, because she would have to take care of you. She'd have to take the kind of job her mother had, and she would have had to work every day to give you the basics of life, Jack. The basics. Her father wasn't in the best of health, and her mother was already getting old. Someday, she might have been able to send you to school, might have been able to get you out, maybe, and maybe wasn't a chance she was willing to take. If she kept you, neither of you might make it, but if she gave you up, both of you could. Even still, she regretted the choice bitterly, Jack. As her pregnancy progressed, she got a little unhappy, and dwelled on it some, but once she made it, she was sure it was the right decision." 

"I guess it was," I sighed, looking at my hands in my lap. One of Josh's hands drifted over to settle over mine, and I took it, rubbing my thumb over the back as I grasped him. I looked up and saw Josh watching me carefully, his face concerned, and I smiled to let him know I was ok. "I mean, it worked. I got out. I never wanted for anything, at least, not for anything material. She sent me away, and I got the better life she wanted." 

"It wasn't like that, Jack," Travis said. "It wasn't so cavalier. She agonized over it, over what it would mean to you, and what it meant about her as a person. She questioned everything about herself, Jack, everything. She went over and over it with me, and with her parents. I have to confess that you almost ended up being my son, Jack." 

"What?" I asked, blinking at him. Beside me Josh gasped sharply. 

"My wife and I couldn't have children, because of her health," Travis said, sighing. "We tried, several times, but it just wasn't going to happen. I approached Nancy one day when she was working here, and asked her if she wanted us to take you in, if she wanted us to adopt and raise you, and she said no. We talked about it, and she decided that she wouldn't be able to see you, wouldn't be able to get on with her own life. She wanted you to be happy, and safe, but she didn't want to see you growing up if she couldn't be there. When she refused, I remembered your father, and we arranged the rest. When she went into labor, I called your father, and he flew in, and then you were gone." 

"Why didn't she sign the forms herself?" I asked. "If she was so sure, why didn't she do that?" 

"She couldn't," Travis answered. "She authorized me to sign the papers, and asked if I would, because in the end she couldn't. She knew that it was the best thing for you, but in the end she couldn't do it. She couldn't give you up, and she asked if I would do it for her, because she was convinced that keeping you was selfish. She believed that in her heart, Jack. She believed that keeping you would only benefit her, would only serve her good, and not yours, and she didn't want to do that. She didn't look at you, didn't see you, and didn't want to sign the papers for you, because she was afraid, so afraid, that she would waiver, and that she would cheat you out of the kind of life that she couldn't give you." 

We were all quiet for a minute, and Travis reached into the box again, and began to remove other things. There were some pictures of me in the hospital, and I felt my heart break as he pulled out a small teddy bear, with a green ribbon around its neck. My eyes watered as Travis handed it to me, and then he took out a letter, still sealed. Across the front, in place of a name, it just said, "My Child". I took it, feeling how fragile and soft the paper was, watching the letter shake a little in my hand. 

"She wanted you to have all of this, Jack, for the day when you came looking for her," Travis said quietly. "She wanted to make sure that you knew this, that you knew everything, because she knew that someday you would come back. She wrote that the night you were born, and wanted me to give it to you." 

"Tell me the rest," I said quietly. Josh was rubbing my back as I gingerly held the small bear in my hands, afraid of hurting it. She must have known when I came back that I would be past the age for this, that I would have long outgrown it, but she wanted me to have it anyway, wanted me to have some small gift of love, no matter how late. I remembered the picture of me in the hospital that had been in the other envelope, and how sad I had been to see that there were no personal objects in it. Here was my object, finally, right here in my hands. "Why do you have this box? What, what happened to her?" 

Travis sighed again. He might have waited for years to tell me this story, but it still seemed as if it was as hard for him to do as it was for me to hear it. 

"She gave me this box the night before she was supposed to leave for college," he said finally, looking at his hands. Josh and I looked at him in surprise. "Yes, it all worked. She threw herself into school to escape the rest of it, to stop herself from thinking about it, and she won her scholarships. She was going, and she brought me this box because she was afraid something might happen to her. She wanted me to hold onto it, for safekeeping. I thought she was being foolish, but I humored her. I took the box, gave her a hug, and gave her the gift I'd gotten her. It wasn't anything big, a box of stationery and a book of stamps, and we said goodbye, because she was supposed to leave. And then, that night, there was a fire." 

"Oh, God," Josh breathed next to me. I'd figured this out already, remembering the scorched foundation, the chimney leaning to the side, but Josh, in his eternal optimism, hadn't allowed himself to think of anything like that. 

"They don't know what caused it, but the three of them, they didn't make it out," Travis said sadly. "I'm sorry, Jack. The firemen found Nancy's mother out in the yard, but she had succumbed to smoke inhalation. They found Nancy in the house, with her father. They think that she was trying to pull him to safety, and, knowing her, I'd have to agree. She pulled her mother out, and went back in for her father. And that left me, here, with the box." 

Josh's arm had wrapped around me again, and he hugged me tightly as I stared at the little bear in my hands and felt tears trickling slowly down my cheeks. Travis stood, and walked over to his door. 

"I'll give you two a few minutes, ok?" he said. Josh nodded at him, and he stepped out, closing the door behind him. 

"Jack? Baby?" he asked, his arms cradling me as he leaned over my chair. He was rocking me a little, his strong hands sliding lightly up and down my back. "Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, I think so," I answered. My eyes wouldn't stop leaking, but I could breath. "I think so." 

"I'm here for you, Jack," Josh said, his mouth near my neck. I felt his lips brushing me as he spoke. "Let it out if you need to. I'm here." 

"I'm ok," I said, pulling away from him a little. I looked down at the letter in my hands, and his eyes followed mine. "I have this, you know, really weird sense of deja vu, Josh. Every time we go looking for my mom, we end up crying somewhere with a letter from her." 

We both smiled, and I turned it over and began very gently opening the back. Inside was only one piece of paper, and I carefully unfolded it, taking in the graceful curves of the handwriting, the low, looping curls. Josh and I read it together, his hands reaching out to take the edges to steady it, because mine were shaking so much. 

"To My Child: 

If you're reading this, it means that I'm not here to tell you any of my story. It means that you're hearing it from someone else, hopefully Travis, and it means that this is the only time that you and I will speak, at least in this life. As I write this, you are only hours old, but I haven't seen you. I don't even know if you're a boy or a girl, but I want you to understand something. It's not because I don't love you. It's because I love you too much, and if I saw you, I might not be able to let you go. 

I want you to have everything I do not. I don't want you to have to struggle, or fight, or not know if you're going to have a next meal or where it's going to come from. I want you to have a better life, and you won't have that if you stay with me. I want you to see the world, and I want you to be warm, and safe, and happy. I want you to grow up with everything, so that you can be the best person you could ever possibly be. I can't give you that, so I am giving you away. The chance to be who you are, to be free of worry and pain, is the only gift I can give you. 

I hope, as you read this, that you can understand. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for this, that you can see that the advantages outweighed my loss. I hope you grew up loved, and cared for, and that you never felt the absence of a mother. I know that I will feel the absence of you every day, but the thought that gets me through is knowing that you're out there, somewhere, enjoying what I never could, and couldn't give you. 

Wherever I am, whatever has happened to me, please keep this is mind more than anything else: I wanted, more than anything in the world, to be here to meet you. I know that you will be beautiful, and special, and amazing, and I wish I could be here to hold your hands, and hold you in my arms, and see that person that you've become. Wherever I am, I'm proud of you, and I love you very, very much. 

Your mother, 

Nancy" 

Josh held onto me as I folded the letter back up, and we carefully returned everything to the box. My eyes were still leaking, but I was under control. My mother had loved me. I was loved. I still felt sad, still wished that I could have found her, but I also felt warm, and whole. This didn't answer all of my questions, but it answered enough of them, and I would be ok. Josh opened the door as I carried the box, and we found Travis near the front of the house, where we had come in. 

"Thank you," I said, shaking his hand. "Thank you for everything." 

"You're welcome," he said, squeezing my hand tightly. "I think Nancy would have been proud of you, Jack. She would have seen the way you stand up for what you believe in, and the way you fight to be who you are, and she would have loved you for it." 

"I hope so," I said, as Josh and I stepped onto the porch. "Travis, before we go, could you tell us one more thing?" 

"Of course," he said. "What is it?" 

"Can you tell us how to get to the cemetery?" I asked. "And which one to go to? Before we leave town, I'd like to say goodbye." 

"Of course," he said, and he did. 

Josh and I followed the directions, Andrew driving, and eventually found ourselves standing before a large stone with all three of their names engraved on it. Below the names and dates was the inscription "Loving Family". 

"Travis paid for this," Josh said quietly. "He told me in the hall, when you went to wash your face. He wanted to give them a proper resting place." 

"He's a good person," I said absently, kneeling, running my fingers over the dates. 

"You ok?" Josh asked again, kneeling next to me. "You sounded a little, I don't know, out of it." 

I turned to Josh, and hugged him to me, holding him tightly. 

"Yeah," I breathed. "I still have you, Josh. You're my family, the only one I have. I love you, baby." 

"I love you, too," Josh said, holding me. He knew what I was trying to say. "You ready?" 

"Yeah," I answered. "Let's go home." 

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CHAPTER 107

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JACK'S POV: 

"Dear P Diddy," I began, writing carefully on the engraved note card. "No, wait, Dear Puffy. Dear Sean? What the hell does he go by now?" 

"Um, the card says Sean," Chad said, reading it carefully from the couch on the other side of the coffee table. 

"Better go with that, then," I said, shrugging. "Dear Sean, Thank you so much for the, paperweight? Sculpture? Chad, what the hell is this thing?" 

Chad picked up the blue glass object between us on the coffee table and held it in his tanned, long fingered hands, his light blue eyes crawling over it carefully. His frosted blond hair was gelled back today, and he was wearing a vest that emphasized the thin, firm lines of his torso. His gold hoop earrings, two in each ear, glittered in the light as he looked questioningly at the wedding present, before he finally shrugged, and set it down on the table. He was cute, but almost a stereotype. 

"Could be a candleholder," he said finally. "It's got this weird little hole in the back." 

"It's not a bong, is it?" I asked, afraid to pick it up again. "I know he's Josh's friend and all, but Jesus, he's such a thug. Maybe I'll just refer to it as a nice gift, and tell him it looks great in the breakfast nook." 

"You guys have a breakfast nook?" Chad asked, looking up from the envelope he was addressing for me to put the note into. 

"No, but he doesn't know that," I said, smirking. "Can you put it back in the box while I finish writing this?" 

"Sure," he answered, passing me the envelope. 

I put the card in while Chad put the blue thing away, and then I added the envelope to the pile of notes that Josh needed to sign, so that we could seal and send them. We'd been at the gifts for three days, and seemed to be making no progress at all. Once we were done with the endless pile of wedding gifts from the actual guests, Josh told me that there was a rented storage space somewhere in town with gifts from fans. When we needed a break from the gifts, we worked on the mail for a while, but neither task ever seemed to get smaller. I was worried that I was going to need more than just Chad to get through this, but for now Josh and I had agreed that we only needed one personal assistant, even if we hadn't agreed on which one we'd wanted to hire. Like all of our arguments, it was settled quickly, but I still wasn't sure if I was happy with the outcome. 

We'd asked for applicants from the Jive secretarial pool, and in the end had narrowed it down to a very nice lady, who had been a secretary for about ten years, and Chad, who was maybe twenty-three and who had been working the phones at the main offices for about three months. I wanted the nice lady, who was obviously very qualified, but Josh wanted to give Chad a chance, because he was young and inexperienced, and Josh wanted to give him a break. I'd finally relented, but Chad still gave me a little nagging feeling in the back of my mind, because he was young, cute, and unquestionably gay. Josh thought it was a good thing because he'd be pretty understanding of our issues, and that we should be helping out our gay brethren, but I understood a little better how Josh felt when I said I thought Kevin was cute. I tried not to let it bother me, and Chad did seem really nice. 

Both of us looked up as we heard a door open close at the front of the house, and then Josh was striding into the living room. I could tell from his face that he was a little upset about something, and he came straight to me, and wrapped his arms around me, laying his head on my shoulder. I held on to him, letting him soak up whatever comfort he needed from my presence, and waited for Chad to leave. I glanced at him finally, over Josh's shoulder, and he got the message, blinking and standing. He was nice, but a little dense, which Josh kept telling me was just Chad being blond. 

"I'm going to, um, head out, " Chad said, leaving everything where it was. "Tomorrow?" 

"Come by at ten," I said, nodding. As he walked out I continued to hold Josh, noticing the way he smelled, and the smooth texture of his neck pressing against mine. "Josh?" 

"I love you, Jack," he said, still just holding me. "I just need to hold you for a minute, ok?" 

"Of course it's ok," I said. I didn't want to press the issue, but I needed to know what was going on, and if he needed me. "You're home early. Is, um, everything ok?" 

"We just, we had a bad day at work today," Josh said, pulling back finally and offering a weak smile. I kissed him on the forehead, and he leaned down and kissed me on the mouth, pressing his lips softly to mine as I led him over to the couch. We sat down, and I held his hands. "We stopped early today because Wade has a lot of work to do over the next couple of days. All the old songs, and some of the new stuff, we have to rechoreograph everything, Jack. We should have known, should have realized it." 

"Why?" I asked. "What's wrong with the choreography?" 

"The moves, Jack," Josh said finally. His face looked pained. "The thrusts, and the, you know, the stage humping. We started doing some of the old routines just to warm up, and Justin, he can't do it, Jack. He broke down in the studio, in tears, and then he just curled up into a little ball against the wall. We tried to help him, but he wouldn't talk to us, and Lance took him home. We're going to take a couple of days off, and Chris figured we could tell people that we've changed everything to give the fans a new show, or something. It was just, you know, it was bad, Jack." 

"I'm sorry, baby," I said, holding onto him. He smiled at me to let me know he was ok. 

"It's all right, Jack," he said, sighing. "It just hurts, you know, seeing that Justin is still so messed up, so broken, and there's nothing we can do to help him." 

"I know, Josh," I said. "All we can do is be here for him, and for Lance, too." 

"If they let us," Josh sighed, leaning over. He rested the side of his head against mine, holding my hand. I thought for a second. 

"Josh, I have an idea," I said. "But first, you know, I have another idea I need to talk to you about. Chad and I were talking, and I think I found a job, but I need to talk to you about it first."

---

LANCE'S POV: 

Lance looked out the back window, watching Justin walk around the backyard with his putter, tapping a ball along over the grass. They'd been back from the studio for a couple of hours, and after Justin had calmed down, he said he wanted to go outside for some air. Lance didn't want to push him, knowing that Justin would come to him if he needed him, so he stayed at the back of the house, puttering around and watching Justin through the windows. He seemed ok, just very quiet, and had called his therapist when they got back to set up an extra appointment this week. Lance should have guessed that Justin wouldn't be up for the dancing, at least not that kind, but it hadn't occurred to him, and he guessed it hadn't occurred to Justin, either. Lance sighed, knowing he should have seen this coming, especially after what had happened between him and Justin in bedroom the other night. 

Since the night a couple weeks ago, when Justin had asked Lance to sleep in the bed with him, they had done it a few nights since. Lance went to sleep in his own bed, but sometimes Justin woke him and asked if he would come over to his bed, or if Lance would let him climb into his. Lance always agreed, knowing that Justin needed the comfort, and it made him feel better to be able to offer it, too. When Justin got in bed, he would slide back against Lance, or lay his head on Lance's chest, and the two of them would talk for a little while about what was bothering Justin before they fell asleep. If Justin didn't want to talk, just wanted to be held, Lance just held onto him, feeling him shake beneath his t-shirt as he laid his head on Lance's bare chest. It wasn't a sexual thing for either of them, not really, just two friends seeking comfort, but they were also guys, and sometimes things happened that couldn't be helped, which had happened the other night. 

Lance's eyes popped open as he heard Justin cry out, and when he looked over, across the room, he saw Justin twisting, clawing at the sheets that were wrapped around him. Justin's face was covered with sweat, and Lance could see spreading blotches of it on Justin's shirt in the dim light coming from the small nightlight plugged in by the door. The light was a recent addition to the room, because Justin panicked if he woke up and couldn't see who was near him. Justin's eyes were closed, and his face was twisted in agony as he tried to escape the confines of his dream. 

"Nick, no, no," Justin said, his voice high and pleading. "No, please, please don't. Please!" 

"Justin!" Lance said sharply, feeling something wrench inside him. The pain in Justin's voice, mixed with fear, was too much for him to listen to. He remembered when Justin had abused him, and how he had seen it in his head all the time for weeks, and prayed that Justin wouldn't have to relive what happened with Nick every night for the rest of his life. Across the room, Justin's eyes popped open, and he inhaled sharply, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Lance kept his own voice calm, knowing Justin would be disoriented. "Justin, Justin, it's ok. It's ok. You were just having a dream, Justin. You're safe. I'm the only one here. You're safe, Justin." 

"Lance?" Justin asked quietly, his hands holding the sheet tightly. He looked over at Lance, his eyes wide, and then his face scrunched as he began to cry, a sob bursting out of him almost painfully. "Lance, I, he was, it happened again, and he just kept, kept pushing, pushing in me, and he was so heavy, and it, it hurt. It hurt me." 

Justin's voice trailed off as sobs shook him, and Lance had trouble picking out all of the words. 

"Justin, do you want me to come over there?" Lance asked. "Do you need me?" 

Justin nodded, unable to speak, and Lance pulled the sheet back and stood. Before he realized what was happening, he saw Justin's eyes widen in fear, and Justin jerked back against the wall, pulling the sheet around himself. 

"No!" Justin screamed, paling. 

"Justin?" Lance asked, confused, stepping toward the bed. 

"No!" Justin's eyes were wider than Lance had ever seen, bulging from his face in panic, and his voice dropped to a whisper as he shook his head back and forth in violent negation. "Please don't hurt me." 

"Justin, what?" Lance began, and then followed Justin's eyes. They weren't on his face, they were lower, and Lance realized as he glanced down at his briefs that he had woken up with an erection, and that was all that Justin was seeing. Lance immediately stepped backward, pressing himself against the far wall of the bedroom, and grabbed a pillow, holding it over his groin as he tried to will his hardon to subside. It wasn't for Justin, it was just a simple erection like most guys got in their sleep, but Justin wouldn't understand that. "Justin, it's not for you. Justin, I promise, I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. It's just me, Justin, just Lance, and I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." 

Justin stared at him, still holding the sheet around himself, still panting hard, almost hyperventilating as his whole body trembled beneath the sheet. He was still watching Lance, but Lance folded down into a sitting position, dropping his face down so that it was level with Justin's. He stared into Justin's eyes, keeping his face neutral, not moving toward Justin in any way, doing his best to look nonthreatening, and kept the pillow in place. His erection had subsided, but he wanted to make sure Justin was settled before he removed it. 

"Justin, it's just because I was asleep," Lance said. "I'll never hurt you Justin, never. You know that. You're safe here, safe. It's just from sleep Justin, and it's gone now. It's gone away." 

"Lance?" Justin asked finally, his face shifting a little as he seemed to actually see Lance for the first time. "Lance, please, please don't, don't do that. Please, please don't hurt me." 

"Justin, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," Lance said, listening to the fear in Justin's voice. "I'll never hurt you like that, Justin, never." 

"Never?" Justin asked, his face so hopeful, but still so afraid. 

"Never, Justin, never," Lance shaking his head. "Never. I will never hurt you." 

"But why?" Justin asked. Lance was confused for a second, wondering how Justin could even need to ask why Lance wouldn't hurt him, but then Justin continued. "Did you want to? Did I, did I make you want to, did I make you want me, like, that way?" 

"No, Justin, no," Lance answered, shaking his head. "It was just because I was sleeping, and I, I don't know, I just woke up with it. Guys do that, Justin. You know that. You didn't do anything to make me want to, to do anything to you." 

"You didn't want to, to hurt me?" Justin asked quietly. "You weren't thinking about it?" 

"No, Justin, no," Lance said again, trying to reassure him. "I wasn't thinking it, I swear. You didn't do anything to make me want to, or to make me think about it. You didn't do anything, Justin, and I won't do anything, either." 

"Nick wanted to," Justin said quietly, looking away. "Nick did it, did that to me, because I made him. I made him want to. That's why he did it, Lance. It was my fault, because I made him want to." 

"Justin, no," Lance said quickly. "It's not your fault, Justin. It was Nick's." 

"No!" Justin said, shaking his head again. "I made him do it! I made him want to! I made him, made him hurt me!" 

Justin launched himself across the room, throwing himself against Lance, and Lance held him, soothing him with his hands, as Justin sobbed against his bare chest. Lance rocked him a little, trying to calm him down. 

"Justin, it wasn't your fault," Lance said. "Please, Justin, please don't blame yourself. I did that, Justin. I still do that, and I don't want you to. It doesn't make the pain go away, Justin. It doesn't do anything but make you feel worse, make you hurt more. You didn't want Nick to do it. You told him no, and he didn't listen to you. That wasn't your fault, Justin. That's all that matters. It wasn't your fault." 

They sat like that for a while, Lance holding Justin as Justin cried himself out against Lance's chest, shaking and trembling as his body was racked with sobs. Lance whispered to him over and over that it wasn't his fault, and that he was safe, and eventually Justin's crying began to level off. Lance walked him carefully down the hall to the bathroom and washed his face off, not because it was dirty, but because he knew it would make him feel better, the washcloth cool and soothing against his skin. Bringing Justin carefully back to the bedroom, he settled him into his bed. 

"Lance," Justin asked quietly, reaching up to run his hand along the side of Lance's face. "Lance, please hold me. Please hold onto me. Make me feel safe." 

"You're always safe with me, Justin," Lance said, sliding into the bed with him, pulling the sheet up around them both. "Safe, Justin. I promise." 

"I'm so afraid," Justin said quietly. 

"Of me?" Lance asked, wondering if he should get out of bed. 

"No," Justin said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Lance. His face was in the space beneath Lance's chin, his hair brushing Lance's jaw. "I'm afraid that if, if someone sees me, if I make them, make them think about it, think about that, they'll do it, Lance. They'll want to hurt me, and I, I'm afraid." 

"No one will hurt you, Justin," Lance said firmly. "I promise." 

He hadn't really given it another thought. Another morning he had woken up hard, again, and Justin had seen it, looking away, but he seemed secure in knowing that Lance wasn't going to do anything to him. Lance hadn't really thought about the dancing, though, the way the moves might give Justin a flashback, or the things it might make Justin think about, and he had been as stunned as the others when Justin just burst into tears and dropped to the floor. He was so weak, and fragile, and Lance didn't stop to give the other guys a second thought as he walked Justin to the car and brought him home. He'd seen how much JC wanted to help, holding the doors, saying Justin's name quietly, and he'd noticed how Chris looked like he wanted to, but didn't know what to do, rocking back and forth from foot to foot, not knowing how to jump in. Joey had looked surprised as well, but Lance had caught Joey's eyes narrowing as he scooped Justin up in a hug, letting Justin hold onto him, and it was the anger at seeing that which made him take Justin home. 

Lance was startled from his thoughts by the doorbell, and he walked to the front of the house, opening the door. He didn't bother looking out the peephole, as Justin, like the others, lived in a pretty secure gated community, but he found himself wishing he had when he saw who was on the doorstep. Chris smiled at him, and Lance wondered if he should just shut the door. He wasn't mad at Chris, but he was wary of another scene like the one Joey had pulled, especially with Justin home and so upset already. On the other hand, while Justin was sure that Chris disliked him, Chris hadn't given any indications of that, and Lance didn't have any problems with him at the moment, so he decided to hear him out. 

"Lance, is Justin home?" Chris asked, dancing back and forth from foot to foot again. Chris was a nervous twitcher, always a little hyper, but they'd all mostly grown not to notice it. 

"He is, but I don't think he wants to talk to you, Chris," Lance said, trying to say it nicely. "I mean, I didn't want that to sound, you know, like that, but I don't think Justin wants to see you." 

"Maybe I could ask him that?" Chris said, also trying to sound nice. He had seen the way that Lance protected Justin now, the way that Justin turned only to him while Lance buffeted everyone else away, and he didn't want Lance to shoulder that alone. He wanted to reach out to Lance, too, but the two of them had never been very close. They'd been friends, but he was much tighter with Justin and JC, while Lance and Joey had always been their own pair as well. One of the good things about JC falling in love with Jack was that Jack was close to all of them, and had drawn them closer together as they welcomed him into the group. "Lance, I promise not to hurt him, ok? If he asks me to leave, I'll go, no questions asked, I promise. I just want to talk to him. Please?" 

"OK," Lance said. "He's in the backyard." 

Lance led Chris through the house, even though Chris knew the way, and he paused by the back patio doors, taking Chris's arm. 

"Chris, please don't upset him," Lance said quietly. "He, you know, you were at the studio. I'm worried about him, Chris." 

"I know, Lance," Chris said, taking Lance's hand. He held it lightly. "I'm worried about both of you. That's why I'm here. The two of you have been locked up in here since we left the resort, and I let you go, because I don't want to intrude, but I'm here for you guys. I'm here for both of you, if you guys need me." 

"I know, Chris," Lance said, hugging him. "But Justin doesn't." 

"I know," Chris said sadly. "That's why I came." 

Lance followed Chris outside, standing in the open doorway of the house as he watched Chris walk down the yard. He knew that Chris wanted privacy, but he wanted Justin to be able to see him. He wasn't sure what Justin's reaction would be, especially after the incident earlier, so he wanted to be here if Justin needed him, and he also wanted to be close enough to hold Chris to his promise if he had to. He'd made a promise to Justin that was more important to him than his friendship, or anything else. Nothing would be allowed to hurt him, not while Lance could help it, not even if it was a friend. 

Chris walked down the slope of the backyard, knowing that Lance was still on the patio. Lance wouldn't be able to hear them speaking, but he could still watch, and Chris understood that Lance had his reasons. He could accept that. He didn't want to startle Justin, though, so he waited until he was about ten feet from him before softly calling his name. 

"Justin?" he said, watching Justin jump a little anyway. He had apparently been deep in thought, tapping the ball around on automatic while his mind turned over other things. When he saw Chris, Justin's eyes immediately ticked up toward the house, but he looked reassured when he saw Lance. "I wanted to stop by and see you, if that's ok." 

"Why?" Justin asked, standing rigidly as he stared at Chris, confused. Why would Chris want to see him? Chris hated him, was disappointed in him, didn't want to be his friend anymore. He had said so. "Why did you want to see me?" 

Chris knew that Justin wasn't doing well, but he was stunned to see how bad it was. Justin was doing a lot of fronting with the guys, a lot of covering, but now that Chris had caught him off guard, he was seeing him with the masks down. Justin looked very young, his face smooth and sort of sad, and he also looked very wounded. His eyes were a little shadowed, something they had all noticed, but Chris was surprised to see that somehow Justin, who was taller than him, seemed so small. Justin normally exuded self confidence, energy, and a kind of glowing humor, but now he just seemed fragile. Chris had caught glimpses of weakness over the past few days, since they had gone back into the studio to start rehearsing, but the strain of keeping up the appearance of being all right was starting to tell on Justin. His therapist might be helping, and Lance as well, but Justin needed more than that. He needed all of them, and needed to know that they would be here. 

"I came to ask if you would forgive me," Chris said quietly, figuring he should just cut right to the chase. It would give Justin a chance to decide, right now, if he wanted Chris to be here or not. 

"Forgive you?" Justin asked, unsure. "For what?" 

"For not being here for you, " Chris said quietly, not moving. He wanted to scoop Justin up and hug him, hold onto him until he felt safe, but he knew from what had happened to Lance that Justin might feel threatened if someone was in his space. Any touching had to come from his end, not Chris's. "For keeping my distance. For not being a friend when you need me." 

Justin looked away, still holding his putter. 

"We're not friends," Justin said quietly. "Not anymore." 

"I know," Chris said, just as quiet. It hurt him to hear Justin say it, but he understood that it was the way Justin felt. It was the only thing that explained the way Justin had been treating him, and he needed to change that. "But I don't know why. You and I were so close, Justin. We used to talk, and hang out, and I always knew what was going on with you, and we don't do that anymore." 

"Because you said so," Justin said, his shoulders down. "You said it to me, before. You said it after the night at the club, and the, the bad thing I did with Nick, in the bathroom." 

"Justin, I was upset," Chris said. "I was upset because of what you were doing, because of the way you were acting. I said it because I was frustrated. I couldn't understand why you were acting that way, Justin, and you wouldn't talk to me." 

"I couldn't talk to anyone," Justin said, sitting down on the grass. Chris walked closer. 

"Justin, can I sit by you?" he asked, looking down at him. 

"Sure," Justin answered. Chris settled down beside him, and waited. "I couldn't talk to anyone, because it hurt too much. I didn't know what else to do, Chris. I didn't know anything. I thought that I could give Josh up, but it was hard, Chris, it was so hard. And Nick? He made me forget. He made me not feel, and I needed to, because it hurt, Chris." 

"I know, Justin," Chris said. "Remember? I was there. And I was so proud of you, Justin. You were so strong, and so selfless. I was so proud of you, proud to be your brother. I thought you knew that." 

"I did," Justin answered, his voice cracking a little. "But you, you said you were mad. You said that I proved you wrong, that I hadn't changed, and that hurt, Chris. I thought you were my friend." 

"I am your friend, Justin," Chris said. "I said that because I didn't understand why you were acting that way. Justin, I know what you worry about. I know how scared you are that you're, that you haven't changed, but you have, Justin. You've changed so much, grown so much, and you can't see it, but I can. I can see it because I'm your friend, Justin. I said that because you were undoing it, because you were acting like you used to, and you're so much better than that. It hurt me to see you doing that, Justin. It hurt me to see you drinking so much, and taking so many risks, and acting like you hated yourself." 

"What?" Justin asked, looking at Chris, finally, his blue eyes wide and curious. 

"I know you loved JC, Justin, but you didn't love yourself," Chris said. "You gave everything up for him, but you needed to keep some of it for you." 

"But he believed in me," Justin said. "He thinks I'm special. He always has." 

"Justin, so do I," Chris said, reaching out to flick a tear off of Justin's cheek. "You are special, Justin. The things you do for other people, I don't know if I could do them. What you gave up for JC, and what you were going to give up for Lance, that says so much about you, about the kind of person you are." 

"I'm not, though," Justin said softly, looking away again. "I'm not a good person, Chris. I'm trash." 

"No, you're not," Chris said, not sure how he could convince him. "You're not trash." 

"I hurt my friends, all of my friends," Justin said. 

"Not on purpose, Justin," Chris said. "Never on purpose." 

They were quiet for a moment, sitting on the grass. Chris glanced over at Justin's golf club. 

"You know, we haven't played in a while," Chris said. "We used to all the time." 

"Yeah," Justin said, holding the club. 

"Justin, what I said to you, I only said because I was angry," Chris said, looking down. "And afterward, there didn't seem to be any way to apologize. It might be too late now, and I'm sorry for that, too. Maybe if we weren't so busy pushing each other away, maybe things would have happened differently." 

"Did you mean what you said, Chris?" Justin asked. He turned to Chris, his eyes watering, his lip shaking a little, and Chris saw how much Justin was hoping for it to be true. "You were proud of me?" 

"I still am, Justin," Chris said. "I've always been proud of you." 

"And we're, we're still friends?" Justin asked, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. 

"If you'll still have me," Chris said, holding out his arms. Justin leaned over, resting his head on Chris's shoulder, and Chris felt Justin's arms gripping him tightly. 

"Good," Justin said, his voice squeaking as he began to cry a little harder. "Because I need you. I need you all so much." 

"I know," Chris said, holding him tightly as he saw Lance hurrying down the back lawn toward them. "That's why I'm here." 

---

CHAPTER 108

---

JACK'S POV: 

"No!" I screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. My heart was throbbing, the bed spinning, and I felt arms wrapping around me from behind as I tried to get my bearings, covering my face with my hands, willing everything to slow down. 

"Jack, shhhhh, Jack," Josh soothed, holding me, sliding me back to rest against him. I felt his chest against my back, and his arms circled me, cradling me, as he rested his head on my shoulder, his face next to mine. "It's ok, Jack. Whatever it was, it's ok." 

"I'm ok," I whispered, holding my hands over his. Already my breathing was slowing down, and the dream was clearing out of my head. I was safe, here with Josh. "I'm ok, Josh." 

"Are you sure?" he asked, rocking back and forth a little. The room was completely dark, but I didn't want to look at the clock, knowing I would feel guilty for waking him. Even though they weren't working tomorrow, while Wade reworked the show, Josh needed rest. They were shooting a video next week, and I didn't want him looking tired. "Do you need to tell me? Do you need to let it out? Was it Basil again?" 

"No," I answered, feeling my eyes tear. "No, it was worse. Everything's all tangled up in my head, Josh, all mixed together. I dreamed that there was a fire, Josh, here at the house. You were here, and you, you were trapped, and my mother was here, not Evelyn, but my other mother, and I couldn't get inside. I couldn't get to either of you, and you, you." 

My voice dissolved, my breath catching in my chest, and I felt Josh's arms squeeze even tighter around my chest as he rocked back and forth. I felt his head brushing mine as he shook it back and forth, and there were goosebumps on his arms. 

"Jack, no, no," Josh said, as much to himself as it was to me. "It was just a dream, Jack, just a bad dream. I'm here, Jack. I'm here, and I'm ok." 

"You're all I have, Josh," I whispered. "You're all I have. You're my whole family, and I, in my dream, I lost you. I lost you, and I was all alone." 

"You're not alone, Jack," Josh whispered, pulling me gently back down onto the bed. He was stroking my hair now, brushing it back from my forehead, and I turned in the loop of his arms so that I was facing him. He might have been concerned about me, because I'd had yet another nightmare, but I could see that the dream had scared him, too. I could tell by the way he was looking at me, as if trying again to memorize every detail of my face, as much of it as he could see in the dark room. "We're family, Jack, me and you. And you have the guys, and you have my family. And maybe, maybe someday, you'll even have something with Evelyn, and Jack, senior, and Brett. Until then, though, there's you and me. You're my husband, and I love you, and as long as we have that, neither one of us is ever alone." 

"I love you, Josh," I whispered, amazed at the way he always knew exactly the right thing to say to me. "I love you so much." 

"Do you think you can fall back to sleep, now?" Josh asked. He grinned, and I caught a little flash off of his teeth. "Maybe a blowjob to help?" 

"Not necessary," I said, chuckling. "Please, Josh, please just hold me." 

"Whatever you want, babe," he sighed, pulling me closer, and laying my head on his chest. 

I slid back toward sleep, my last thoughts about how soft his skin was, and how maybe I should go to group therapy with Justin and Lance, since we were all having bad dreams. What were the odds that three out of six of us had gone through such traumatic experiences? It bordered on the ludicrous, but I drifted off before I could think any more about it. I woke up much later, shielding my eyes with my arm as I felt Josh licking my face. I turned my head the other way, but he followed me, his tongue crawling rapidly all over my lips. 

"Josh, stop!" I said, laughing. I opened my eyes, and it wasn't Josh. 

A tiny puppy stood on the bed next to my head, wagging his tail feverishly. When I opened my eyes, staring into his brown ones, he lunged forward, licking all over my face again, and I realized that the wet tongue sliding over my lips a minute ago had been the dog's. He was a little shorthaired dog, tan with black on his ears and feet, but I couldn't tell the breed. Maybe he was a mutt. I picked him up as I sat up in bed, holding him to my chest as he licked whatever he could reach. 

"Where did you come from, baby?" I asked, grinning. He let out a little yelp, his tail wagging so hard his whole back end was shaking. He had on a little rhinestone studded black collar, and I knew just looking at it that he was from Josh. I looked up and saw Josh smiling from the doorway of the bedroom, his hair casually messy as he leaned, barefoot, in ripped jeans and a t-shirt against the doorframe. "Josh?" 

"He followed me home. Can we keep him?" Josh asked, grinning. "Do you like him?" 

"I love him, Josh, but what are we gonna do with him?" I asked. "Where's he going to go when you and I are on the road?" 

Josh walked over to the bed and sat down beside me. The puppy ran over to his lap, and then began running back and forth between us as we both petted him. 

"I thought that, um, you could take him with you," Josh answered. "I thought that for the nights when I wasn't there, you'd still have him. I don't want you to be alone, Jack, and since I can't be with you, I thought this was the next best thing. If you don't want him, I can take him back to the pound." 

"No, Josh," I said, leaning over to kiss him. "He's perfect. I love him, and I love you. Now come here." 

I pressed my lips to Josh's mouth, holding his face in my hands. He kissed me back with equal fervor, his tongue pushing into my mouth, fighting wetly with my own. I groaned, chewing on him, pulling him toward me as I started to lay back down on the bed. His hands slid up my sides, running up and down them, his palms brushing over my chest. His fingers crawled up to my nipples, thumbing them, and he pinched both lightly, tugging them away from my chest. I groaned, clawing at his back, as my own hands slid down to tug at his shirt. Josh moaned as well, grinding himself against me, pressing his body to mine as he squashed me into the mattress. I was naked under the sheet, and felt it rubbing against my hard cock as it throbbed, trapped between our bodies. As I finally got a grip on Josh's shirt, tugging it up toward his shoulder blades, a warm, furry head pressed itself between our chins, licking, and we both froze. 

"Shit," I said, snickering. "Great present, Josh." 

"We might as well have had a kid," Josh said, laughing. He stood, picking up the dog and carrying it like a football under his arm. "Why don't you go get in the shower, and I'll take Junior here down to the backyard so he can go to the bathroom, ok? Then we'll get ready for the barbecue." 

"Yeah," I agreed, standing and flashing him my bare ass as I walked toward the bathroom. "You know, that might be a good name for him." 

"What?" Josh asked. "Barbecue?" 

"Junior," I answered, turning on the shower. "After all, if you and I are a family, he's our kid." 

When I came downstairs, dressed casually in jeans and a shirt, subconsciously matching Josh even though the honeymoon and two weeks of matching outfits was over. Josh had slipped on a pair of sandals, and he left off taking food out of the refrigerator as he walked me to the corner of the kitchen that now belonged to Junior, as we'd both started calling the puppy. Josh had obviously given this a lot of thought, and not just gone out and picked up a puppy this morning. He showed me the shot record, explaining that Junior had been at the vet's for the past day or two. He had purchased a little doggie crate, and one of those round beds like you saw on television. There was a baby gate, so that we could section off that part of the kitchen if we didn't want him underfoot, and, in typical Josh fashion, about a hundred different dog toys overflowing from a plastic basket. 

"Josh, how long have you been planning this?" I asked, looking around. There was puppy chow hidden in the pantry, and five different kinds of dog treats. This puppy was going to be as spoiled as I was. 

"Since before the wedding," he answered, hugging me, while Junior tugged furiously at Josh's pant leg, growling. 

"Where did you keep all of this stuff?" I asked. There wasn't a room in the house that I hadn't been in. 

"Joey's," Josh answered, smiling. "I didn't want you to find any of it. Of course, I think now he's going to have to get a puppy for Bri, too, because she's been running around the house with the dog toys for the past couple of days." 

We both laughed, and I kissed him again as we heard the doorbell. I pulled away, smiling. 

"I'll get it," I said. "You better get back to work in here." 

"OK," Josh said, throwing the potatoes into the boiling water for the potato salad. Josh had neat little index cards laid out all over the kitchen next to groups of ingredients, and I had to laugh again, knowing that they all thought I was the obsessive one. He was just as bad. When I pulled open the door I found Chad smiling on the doorstep. 

"Hey!" he said, waving. "Are we ready to work?" 

"Oh, shit!" I blurted. "We're not working today. I forgot to call you. Chad, we're having the guys over for a barbecue." 

"Oh, ok," Chad said, shrugging. He started to turn a little. "Should I come tomorrow?" 

"Stay and hang out," Josh said from behind me. I couldn't help but notice the way that Chad's entire face lit up when he saw Josh. "You're going to have to meet the guys anyway, if you're going to be working with Jack and I." 

"Thanks, JC!" Chad said excitedly, grinning. I had a sudden Jerry Springer moment where I wanted to grab him and scream, "Bitch! Hands off my man!" 

"Why don't you head back to the kitchen, and we'll put you to work?" I said, hoping like hell that Junior had just crapped all over the floor. Chad bounced away, and I heard squeals of delight coming from the other end of the house when he found Junior. I closed the door and turned to Josh. 

"What's wrong?" Josh asked, his hands on my shoulders. I was still smiling, but Josh could tell I was irritated. 

"Josh, have you noticed that our assistant has, um, a little crush on you?" I asked. "Don't look at me like that. Every time you walk into the room he just stares at you, and when we're going through wedding stuff he's always asking all these questions about you." 

"Is my baby jealous?" Josh asked, hugging me. "He's just excited to be working with famous people, Jack. He's harmless. Besides, even if he wasn't, I love you. Just you. OK?" 

"I know, baby," I said. "And I love you, too. I guess it could be what you said. Maybe he is just fascinated with famous people." 

I started to walk back toward the kitchen, but Josh had my arm, and tugged me back. 

"Jack, does it really bother you?" he asked. "Seriously?" 

"No, Josh," I answered, shaking my head. "It's just, you know, I'm being stupid. What time did you tell the guys to be here?" 

"I told them to start showing up at eleven," he answered. 

"Then we have an hour," I said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Let's get to work." 

The three of us bustled around the kitchen, making small talk and working on salads and the meat, carefully avoiding stepping on Junior, who was determined to eat anything we dropped on the floor. Josh was being especially demonstrative, touching me or kissing me every time he went past me, as if to reassure me and to show Chad that he was spoken for, and I loved him for it, even if it was kind of unnecessary. When the doorbell rang again, Josh was beating steaks with a hammer and Chad was threading vegetables onto bamboo skewers, so I put the lettuce down and went to go get it. Lance and Justin smiled at me from the doorstep, each of them holding a white bakery box. 

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding the door open. Lance hugged me tightly, carefully balancing his bakery box, and I was surprised when Justin stepped forward and hugged me, too. 

"Hey, Jack," Justin whispered, holding me tightly. I looked over his shoulder at Lance, who smiled and shrugged. Justin stepped back, holding his box tightly. "We brought pie." 

"Cool," I said, turning back toward the kitchen. Justin caught my arm. 

"Can I, can I talk to you?" he asked. Lance waited as well. "And Josh?" 

"Of course, Justin," I said, turning to call toward the kitchen. "Josh?" 

Justin turned to Lance and leaned in, whispering something quietly to him as he set his bakery box on top of Lance's. Lance nodded and patted Justin on the arm before turning and walking toward the kitchen. Josh gave him a quick hug as they passed, and then joined us in the living room. From the kitchen I heard Chad shriek, "Oh my God! You're Lance Bass! Oh my God!" and I smiled, deciding that Josh was right after all. Poor Lance, trapped in the kitchen with our celebrity worshipping assistant. Josh stepped up next to me, both of us waiting. Justin looked at his feet nervously, twisting his hands. 

"Justin?" I asked. 

"Curly?" Josh added, as Justin took a deep breath. "Are you ok?" 

"Do you need us for something?" I asked. 

Justin swallowed, and sat down on the couch. Josh and I looked at each other, hoping nothing else was wrong. Justin looked up at us, and seemed very afraid. His eyes were huge, and his hands were actually shaking. Josh and I sat down across from him, waiting, wondering what else we should do. 

"This is, is really hard for me," Justin began, looking down again. He took a deep breath, and tried again. "I need to, to tell you guys something. I've been talking to, to my guy, and I should have, have told you before, but I didn't." 

"Justin, you can tell us now, " Josh said quietly. 

"Whatever it is, we want to help you," I said, squeezing Josh's hand. "We're here for you, Justin." 

"I know," Justin said. "And that's, that's what I need to talk to you about. I've been thinking, thinking a lot, and I never told you something. I never told you thank you." 

Justin looked up at us again, and tears were streaming down his face now, but he looked ok otherwise. His eyes were wide, but not shadowed, not red. 

"I never told you guys thank you for everything," Justin said. "I never thanked you for being my friend, and for being here for me, and for forgiving me. Jack, I almost took Josh away from you, not, not just once, but twice, and you still forgave me. And Josh, I, I wasn't a good friend to you. I played games with you, and I, I hurt you, and you still forgave me, too. When I was hurt, you were there for me, you held onto me, and when I was in the, in the hospital, you stayed, you stayed the whole time, and I never said thank you, and you still forgave me anyway." 

"Justin, you don't have to thank us for that," Josh said, sitting down on one side of him. 

"We love you, Justin," I said, sitting down on the other side. Justin took both our hands, looking back and forth between us. 

"I know, but you don't, you don't have to," Justin said. "I know you'd, you'd forgive anyone, but you forgave me. Me. You're my friends, and you still love me. You forgave me, and you always have, and I just wanted to say thank you." 

"You're welcome, Justin," I said, reaching for the tissues. I blotted lightly at his face. "You're welcome." 

"It's ok, Justin," Josh said, folding Justin against him. "Just let it out, ok?" 

"I'm ok," Justin sighed. "I'm ok." 

The three of us sat like that for a few more minutes, Josh and I both holding onto Justin, comforting him. It was such a surprise to see him reaching out that we both wanted to make sure he felt safe, and reassured. I was afraid that we would say something to drive him into his shell again, to make him cling to Lance and block us all out, and I think Josh was, too. In the kitchen I could hear Lance and Chad working on the food, Chad keeping up a steady stream of babble as Lance interjected here and there, his lower pitch easy to pick out among Chad's squealing, almost girlish chatter. Justin was pretty much calmed down, but still holding mine and Josh's hands, when Junior came trotting out of the kitchen and nudged his leg, whimpering. Justin looked down, his eyes lighting up. 

"A puppy!" he said, reaching down to pet him. Junior nuzzled against his hand, dancing happily back and forth. Justin looked up at me, his face split wide in a grin, a real smile, the first one we had seen from him in weeks. "Can I, can I hold him?" 

"Of course," I said, fighting the urge to scream, "Hell yes, if it makes you smile," as I scooped Junior up and handed him to Justin. Over Justin's shoulder I could see Josh smiling, too. Justin took Junior carefully, hugging him tightly with one hand while petting him with the other. 

"You're a cute little puppy, yes you are, yes you are," Justin said, holding his face down so Junior could lick it while Justin giggled. "Where did he come from?" 

"The pound," Josh answered, surprising us both. I had thought Josh was joking earlier when he said he'd take Junior back to the pound if I didn't want him. I figured that Josh, being Josh, would have ordered Junior from some celebrity pet breeder, not picked him up at the shelter. Maybe I was finally starting to rub off on him. 

"Josh got him for me," I said, petting Junior on the head as Justin continued to hold him tightly. Junior was loving the attention. "Do you want to play with him? He has some toys in the kitchen." 

"It's ok?" Justin asked, and Josh and I both nodded. "Yes, yes, please." 

As we stood, Justin nuzzling Junior's head with his own, the doorbell rang again. 

"I'll get it," Josh said, kissing me on the cheek. 

As I walked Justin to the kitchen I heard Josh greeting Chris and Vlada at the door, and smiled again. It was turning out to be a great day after all. In the kitchen, Lance and Chad both looked up from their counters as we entered, Lance's eyes ticking over Justin appraisingly while Chad's just bulged again. 

"Lance, Josh and Jack got a puppy and it likes me and," Justin gushed, hurrying toward Lance. He skidded to a stop when he saw Chad. "Who, who are you?" 

"Justin, it's ok," I said quickly. "That's Chad. He's mine and Josh's assistant, and he's ok." 

"You're safe, Justin," Lance said, hurrying across the room to him. Justin clutched Junior to his chest, eyeing Chad carefully, waiting. "I've been talking to him, and he's ok. I promise, Justin." 

"OK," Justin said quietly. I had my hand on his shoulder, and I could feel him shaking again. I gave myself a mental smack for not thinking to tell Justin that there was a stranger here. He had seemed so strong in the living room, before, but it was clear that he still wasn't ok. He reached out a trembling hand toward Chad. "I'm Justin, and I, it's very nice to, to meet you." 

"Oh my God!" Chad burst, shaking Justin's hand. "I'm such a fan, such a big fan of yours. I'll never wash my hand again." 

"You'd better wash it before you touch any of the food," I said, leading Justin away from Chad to the corner, where all of the dog toys were. Chad blushed a deep scarlet, and Lance giggled. I sat Justin down on the floor, where he set Junior down again, and began playing tug of war with him, making little growling noises each time the puppy did. "Are you ok here, Justin?" 

"Yeah, we're good," he said, still tugging. Maybe there was something to pet therapy. Figuring that Justin would be comfortable in the kitchen with Lance to keep an eye on him, I went looking for Josh, Chris, and Vlada, and found the three of them in the music room. 

"Who ees zees?" Vlada asked, standing in front of the wall case. 

"You moved our awards around, " Chris said. 

"I moved them for Jack," Josh said. "That's his shelf, now, for, um." 

"That's my birth mother," I said, stepping up behind Josh. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. "Her name was Nancy." 

Josh had a case built into the wall where he kept his awards. Every time the band won something, they were actually each given one, so they all had a case like this somewhere in their house. The other day, when I was in the shower, Josh had cleared one of the shelves in his case, jamming the awards closer together on the other shelves, and had set up a shelf for me. The framed picture of Nancy was there, along with the little bear and the scrapbook. The letter was there, in the envelope, along with everything in the envelope Evelyn had given me. I wasn't sure if I wanted those on display, since they were personal, so I had left them in their envelopes, reasoning that at least in the case they would be protected. 

"You found her?" Chris asked. 

"She's, um, she's no longer with us," I said, kissing Vlada hello on both cheeks as she did the same to me. "But she wanted to be." 

"Jack, I'm sorry," Chris said, patting me on the shoulder. 

"It's ok, Chris," I smiled. "I went to get answers, and I have them now. Someday I'll give you the whole story, but, for now, I'm ok with it." 

"We should get to the kitchen before this melts," Josh said, holding up the bag of ice cream that Chris and Vlada had brought. I took his hand and we began to walk, Chris and Vlada following us. I heard Chris snickering. 

"You two are so domestic married couple now," Chris said, and I heard Vlada smack his arm. 

"Be kviet," she said, but I could hear her smiling. 

"You know, doing couple stuff, hanging out with your married couple friends," Chris continued. Josh and I both turned back, staring questioningly at him. "Well, you know, I read in one of the papers that you two were doing Karaoke with Kevin Richardson. Making new friends?" 

"We ran into him at the airport, and then we hung out," Josh said, shrugging. "That's all." 

"And we're going to dinner with him and his wife next week," I added. Chris looked a little uncertain. "What, Chris?" 

"It's just, you know, are you sure that's a good idea?" Chris asked finally. Beside him, Vlada frowned. "He's a Backstreet Boy, you guys. He's friends with the other two assholes." 

Josh sighed, and I decided I'd be the one to explain. 

"Chris, he's a nice guy," I said. "He's not like them, and really, he doesn't even like them that much. He knows something happened with them and us, and he feels bad about it, but the three of us decided to be friends outside of that. I know you're concerned, because we had the same thoughts, but we can't judge him based on who he works with." 

"He doesn't just work with them," Chris said. "And you're not outside of this. The three of you can't just decide to be friends. How do you think Justin and Lance are going to feel when they find out you're hanging out with him?" 

"We'll talk to them about it, " Josh said. "We won't hurt either one of them, Chris. You know that." 

"I know," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you'd thought of it." 

"Thanks, big brother," I said, following Josh to the kitchen. It was nice that Chris was always watching out for us, but I wished that maybe, just once, he could actually come right out and say it. He always had this way of kind of dancing toward things that made you spill everything, leaving you to wonder in the end how much he'd actually known to begin with. As Josh was introducing everyone to Chad I heard the bell. "My turn. Go turn the grill on, Josh, please." 

Joey, Kelly, and Bri were waiting on the doorstep. Bri darted forward, wrapping her arms around my knees as Joey and Kelly laughed. 

"Unca Jackie!" Bri squealed. I bent down, grinning at her. 

"Bri, if you go find your Uncle Justin in the kitchen, right now, he has a surprise you can play with," I said, pointing. She took off through the house, pigtails flying behind her, and I heard excited squealing from the kitchen when she saw Junior. 

"Great, Jack," Joey said, grinning, as he helped me up. "You and JC and trying to force me to buy her one, aren't you?" 

"Every kid needs a puppy," I said, giggling. 

"You're just as bad as the rest of these guys," Kelly said, shaking her head as she walked past me into the house, carrying a pan of brownies. 

"I'll take that as a compliment," I called after her, laughing, as I helped Joey with the cooler. 

As the afternoon progressed we drifted back and forth between the kitchen and the patio, keeping the doors open. I gave Justin and Bri a short lecture about keeping Junior from going too far into the backyard, and then let them have a good time playing with the dog. Justin cringed away when Joey came close, and the two of them didn't speak, but Joey seemed to understand, and gave Justin a wide berth. Lance watched the whole thing from the counter, where he and Chad were deep in a conversation about some show that they both watched on television. They seemed to be getting along pretty well, although I wasn't sure either of them realized it. Chris, Vlada, Kelly, and Josh were discussing about ten things at once while Joey and I grilled the meat. Joey watched carefully, forcing me to prove that I had paid attention during his lecture the day Josh and I had bought a grill out in L.A. 

Chad and I brought out citronella candles from under the sink as Kelly gave Bri another lecture about not touching them or getting too close to them as we all settled in for lunch. Josh and I shared a lounge chair, eating and feeding each other, while Chris and Vlada sat side by side on the other one. Joey stayed back by the grill, and Kelly sat hear him, but not too close, complaining about the heat. Justin, Lance, and Chad sat together at the table, and we all just talked about little things and hung out. I hadn't seen too much of the guys since Josh and I came back, and it was nice to just hang out again. 

"So, guys, what brought this on?" Joey asked. 

"Well, we were just thinking that it would be nice to get together while we had a down day," Josh said. "I mean, we're all here for the rehearsals and then the tour, but Kelly and Bri are in town, too, and I thought it might be our last time all together before Vlada goes out to work again, and Jack goes on the road." 

"Huh?" Lance asked, and I realized everyone was looking at me. 

"Oh, sorry," I said sheepishly, blushing a little. "I, um, I found a job, kind of, to keep me busy when you guys go on the road. Chad and I thought of it while we were going through the mail. Thanks, Chad, by the way." 

"You're welcome," Chad said, surprised as everyone turned to him. 

"What is this job, exactly?" Kelly asked. 

"Public speaking," I answered. "Before I, um, got myself kidnapped, I did some speaking for a few groups in California, and since I've been back we keep getting requests in the mail for me to come to this place or that place. I talked to Josh, and we're setting me up with an agent. I'm going to go on a speaking tour while you guys are out on your tour." 

"What are you going to talk about?" Chris asked. 

"About us?" Justin asked, his voice shaking a little. 

"No, no, Justin, of course not," I said quickly, reassuring him. Lance patted him on the arm. "I'm going to talk about, you know, gay rights and stuff, and my own experiences. Mostly I'll be speaking at high schools and college campuses, since that's where the requests are coming from." 

"Are they paying you?" Lance asked. 

"Expenses," I answered. "And a minor fee, which is really cheap compared to what a lot of speakers are charging." 

"But you can charge more than that," Lance said, thinking, as always, of business. 

"But I don't want to," I said, shrugging. 

"Cool," Chris said, shrugging. 

And just like that we were back to chatting and hanging out. I looked around the table, settling back against Josh, and realized that I didn't really need to go anywhere to find a family. Josh was right. My family, the people who loved me and cared about me, was right here, literally, in my own back yard. Josh sighed against me. 

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered. 

"How I got you, my pretty, and our little dog, too," I answered, smirking. 

"You're such a weirdo," he teased, kissing my cheek. 

"Yeah, but you love me for it," I said, pressing my back against his chest. 

"Yeah, I do." 

END SEASON 6 

---

CHAPTER 109

---

BEGIN SEASON 7 

JACK'S POV: 

"Am I being really unreasonable here?" I asked, glaring at my phone as if it might be to blame. "I'm completely justified in being pissed about this, right?" 

"I don't get paid enough to answer that," Andrew said, smirking without looking up from his newspaper. 

"What?" I asked, exasperated. He sat there, frustratingly impassive, and I found myself wanting to grab him and shake him. I hated it when he did stuff like this, because it made me feel moody, neurotic, and overly dramatic. Whether or not any of those might actually be true of me was completely beside the point. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? It's a simple question." 

"No, it's not a simple question," Andrew said, folding the paper up. He set it down on the seat next to him, turning toward me. His face, as always, was more or less flat, and I realized that I'd only ever seen Andrew with three expressions: blank, amused, and vaguely threatening. "It's a trick question. I can disagree with you, and tell you that you're completely overreacting, at which point you will redirect your anger from Chad to me. Since I'm here, and Chad isn't, I don't really like that option, because it means I'll have to listen to you for the entire cab ride." 

"You could just agree with me, then," I said, crossing my arms. Next to me, Junior snored lightly in his carrier bag, drugged into unconsciousness, since the vet said it was the best way for him to fly. I brought the bag with me as a carry on, since it was cloth, and it was ok with the airline as long as I didn't take him out on the plane. 

"No, that's not really an option, either," Andrew said, shaking his head. "If I agree with you, then yes, you're ok, but the minute we get back to JC, and you start telling him about this, you'll say something like, 'Andrew thought so, too,' and then I'll be in the middle of your drama. I don't mind watching it, but I'd rather not play. Remember all those talks we had on the honeymoon about my role? Bodyguard. That's it. Oh, and occasional criminal accomplice." 

"One time I asked you to help me break into something and rifle some files," I said, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. Andrew and I would never admit it out loud to each other, but we were friends, even if he did always keep that wall between us. "You act like we're out breaking the law all the time. And this isn't just pointless drama. I'm completely justified in being pissed about this." 

"Then you don't need me to agree with you," Andrew pointed out. "Now, do I go back to my paper while we sit here all night listening to you bitch and moan, or are you actually planning to do something about this?" 

"Of course I'm doing something about it," I grumbled, looking at the phone again. I hated it when Andrew was right. "I was just waiting until I was a little calmer, that's all." 

"Of course you were," Andrew said, still not making eye contact as he reopened his paper. "Because you always think everything through, and never, ever do anything impulsive. Not you. You're not calling because you wanted to wait, not because you wanted to spend five minutes complaining." 

I glared at him, making a little growling noise at his sarcastic commentary, and snapped my phone on. 

"I really miss the good old days sometimes," I grumbled, dialing. Andrew looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "The ones when you were all stone faced and quiet." 

Andrew snorted dismissively, and I bit back another sarcastic retort at Andrew as I heard Melinda answer. 

"Melinda, it's Jack," I said, hoping she wasn't in the middle of something. Melinda worked with the guys as part of the management team, in charge of special projects, and I'd gotten to know her a little better through the weeks of rehearsals. I figured with such a short time remaining before the show, she would be the least busy, as I wasn't disturbing Josh under any circumstances, not with this. I'd already sent him a voicemail wishing him luck and telling him I loved him, routine for us both as he did the same before I gave a talk, and I didn't want to throw him off before a concert. 

"Jack, where are you?" she asked. "I thought you were coming in tomorrow, for the MTV party." 

"Apparently everyone did," I said, trying not to sound testy with her. "I'm sitting at the airport, and there's no car here for me." 

"Oh, Jack," Melinda sighed. I hated arriving at an airport alone, and there was always supposed to be someone to meet me when I rejoined the guys, so that I could get back to Josh as quickly as possible. As our personal assistant, Chad was supposed to be keeping track of my travel schedule, and making sure that stuff like this didn't happen, but here I was, again, sitting at an airport alone. "Are you ok? I can get someone to come over and grab you." 

"No, no, just worry about the show, and doing your update, or whatever you're working on," I said, shaking my head. "Andrew and I are going to take a cab over, but can you have someone meet us at the gate? My pass is in my luggage somewhere." 

"No problem," Melinda said. "I'll get Julie to wait at the entrance, so you won't have to stand in line, and I can put you in VIP. Is Andrew coming with you?" 

"Are you coming to the show, or do you want a night off?" I asked, holding my hand over the end of the phone. Andrew shrugged. 

"I'll do the show with you," he said. "I'm not off duty until I deliver you safely back to JC." 

"Yeah, we're both coming," I answered. "Can you have someone take care of Junior?" 

"Of course," Melinda answered again. I didn't want to bring Junior into the seating with us, even though I'd be allowed to, because the lights and the crowd bothered him. Someone would keep him occupied and cared for during the show, and make sure that he could walk around and go to the bathroom. "Jack, you're cutting it pretty close. You're not going to be able to see JC before the show." 

"That's ok," I said, motioning to Andrew to flag someone down to help with the luggage cart. Between us we only had two suitcases and Andrew's carryon, but he needed his hands free, in case I got jumped, and I needed my other hand to carry Junior in his little bag. "We're going to grab a taxi now, ok? Thanks Melinda!" 

"See you soon. I know someone else who'll be happy to, too," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. As I hung up the phone I heard her calling for Julie. Melinda had been with the guys since their early days, and, like the rest of the management, had fully welcomed me as a member of the band family. 

"Melinda have us all set?" Andrew asked, his eyes ticking from side to side as we walked out to the curb. I nodded as the porter waved a taxi over. 

"Yeah," I answered, holding Junior as I caught a camera flash. Almost automatically I turned a little, nodding toward the photographer, letting them get a second shot, still pretty amused by the idea that people actually snapped pictures of me. I followed Josh's lead in this, not knowing how to deal with it myself, and he said it was always best to be polite, and to smile, but not to let it disrupt what I was doing. It was hard to smile and be angry at the same time, though, but I gave it my best. "Later on I think we're having another one of those little talks with Chad." 

"Can I have a backstage pass for that, too?" Andrew asked, stepping aside after checking the car, so that I could get in first. 

"No," I answered, grinning. "But that was a good try." 

Andrew didn't really want to see me ream out Chad, again, but it was hard to say exactly what the relationship between the two of them was. They were the two staff members closest to Josh and I (actually, unless you counted the lady who cleaned the house when we were out of town, they were our only staff members), but they weren't friends. It was hard to be friends with Andrew, and Chad seemed a lot more interested being friends with Josh, or Lance, or Chris, or anyone else he had seen on MTV. Andrew, on the other hand, tended to favor Chad with glares of barely concealed contempt, especially when Chad did things like clapping his hands when he was happy or squealing girlishly. They weren't rivals, either, since Josh and I allegedly liked them both equally, but every once in a while I got the feeling that, should I decide that Chad needed to be ejected violently from the building, Andrew would come running to help out. Then again, every once in a while I got the feeling that Andrew would do the same to me. 

Knowing that the ride to the show would take a while, especially in traffic at this time of day, I started looking through my notes, thinking about things I wanted to change or add. I made a note in the margin to have Chad look up current challenges to the sodomy laws of a couple states tomorrow, if we didn't fire him by then, and thought about moving some parts around. When I gave a talk I started out with a brief introduction of myself, explaining right off that I wasn't there to talk about Nsync, and talked a little about figuring out I was gay. I left out some of the rough stuff, like the part where Jason hung himself, but I did leave in some of the stuff that had gone on between Peyton and I, the college breakup part, anyway, without saying his name. From there I moved on to issues facing homosexuals currently, in a kind of state of the nation thing. I'd seen a few other people do this, when I was figuring out what I should do, and it went over well. I rounded off with a rather sanitized version of how Josh and I got together, which led nicely into a discussion of gay marriages, and then I opened the floor to questions. Most of the questions were pretty intelligent, but every once in a while someone would still ask if Justin was just as cute in person ("Well, you know, I have a lot of cute friends, but they're all beautiful people inside, and that's more important."), or what the next video would be. I didn't give anything out about them without being cleared first by the publicity crew, and I generally steered discussion away from that, anyway, since I wasn't technically part of Nsync. 

As we crawled slowly through the traffic around the stadium, I frowned at seeing the little group of protesters near the main entrance. This was the first tour since Josh had come out, and so far there had been a little group of people at every show with signs, walking around in a circle as if they could actually convince anyone to suddenly decide they didn't want their ticket after all. They usually ended up on the news at every show, but the guys had been a little proactive with this, heading off the kind of trouble we were afraid might come up. The group had a lot more openly gay fans attending the shows now, and we were all worried before the tour that there would be scuffles or shouting, or something similarly annoying, and that it would just turn out to be a lot of bad press for the band, especially when some of the more zealous homophobes were on television before the tour starting explaining that they would do whatever they could to disrupt the shows. Chris and Joey, giving a backstage tour to one of the morning shows before opening night, dealt with the whole thing rather handily when asked about the statements. 

"We support our friends, and our fans," Chris said, shrugging. "And I think it's really sad that there are still people who think other people's private lives are any of their business. JC and Jack are two of our best friends, but this tour is about the music, and the fans, not about what we do in our private lives. Nsync isn't supporting any kind of a lifestyle or an agenda, except maybe for love and tolerance." 

"Are you worried about the threats that there will be protests?" the reporter asked, unwilling to just let it die. "Or about how your fans might react to them?" 

"I have complete faith in our fans," Joey said, grinning. "They're all intelligent enough to ignore the existence of ignorant, bigoted, small minded people, and they won't listen to the hate. That's not what any of us are about." 

Sure enough, the fans had responded by ignoring the protesters at every show so far. Security stayed outside, to make sure that the protesters weren't harassing people, but mainly they just stayed in a little area, waving their anti-fag signs and screaming about sin and hell, and most of the people walking by or going inside the arenas barely favored them with a second glance. When Andrew and I got out of the car, greeting Julie and an assistant I didn't know at the curb, some of the protesters recognized me, and began to yell, but I favored them with the middle finger, to scattered applause from the people around us, and a couple flashbulbs going off. Julie's assistant climbed into the cab, to pay the cabbie and take him to the hotel to drop off our bags, and Andrew and I followed Julie inside, Andrew glaring at everyone, but also throwing a few really hostile stares at the idiots with their signs. 

"Want me to shoot one of them?" he asked, seeing how much they still irritated me. 

"No, thanks," I answered, smiling, nodding at people who pointed and waved as we walked by. In dating and marrying Josh, I'd now become a celebrity by association, a situation that was odd at times, and also extremely frustrating sometimes, too. 

"Jack, there's nobody you know in VIP tonight," Julie said, leading us through the arena as she handed Andrew and I our backstage passes. We both hung them around our necks, but really only needed them for the local security people. All of the tour personnel knew who we were, and would let us through without question. "There are a couple contest winners, and some record execs and their families. Do you know how to get to the back when it's over, or do you want someone to come get you?" 

"I think I can figure it out, " I said, looking around. "This is pretty much like the last place, right?" 

"Yeah," she answered, nodding. The main doors had opened, and people were beginning to take their seats. Julie, as an intern, probably had a lot of stuff to do, and didn't need to hang around occupying us. I held out Junior's case to her, and she smiled. "Is he up yet?" 

"He's still tranqued," I answered, shaking my head. "Please make sure he gets a lot of water when he wakes up, and that someone takes him to the bathroom." 

"Jack, he'll be fine, just like every time," Julie said, laughing. I hated having Junior out of my sight, even for a minute, since Kevin had told Josh and I, one night when we were at his house for dinner with him and Kristin, about how some fans kidnapped Brian and Leighanne's dogs once. The only person we shared Junior with was Justin, who loved him as much as we did. "I'll have him on the bus when you guys get there, ok?" 

"Do you want me to stay with you, or go with the dog?" Andrew asked, smirking again. 

"Shut up," I said, waving Julie away. "Or I'll order you to sing along." 

"I don't get paid enough for that, either," Andrew said, looking around for the refrigerator. 

The VIP area is, other than a private box, the best place to watch a concert from. You're right against the stage, the chairs are more comfortable, and they give you snacks and drinks. I nodded to the other people there as Andrew handed me a diet soda, and we settled into our seats as the crew finished their last minute work before the opening acts came on. The crew, glancing over, saw me, and nodded and smiled as I smiled back at them, Andrew and I making small talk and trying to remember who the openers were this time. Like the Celebrity tour, they had a changing schedule of them, some for one show, some for another, and I hoped and prayed we weren't there for one of the nights when Puffy opened again. I was still firmly convinced that the statue he gave Josh and I for our wedding was a bong. 

When the guys finally started their set I sat up straight, watching the entire thing with rapt attention, dancing a little in my chair and singing along. Andrew had gotten past the point of rolling his eyes at me, or the way I stared at Josh like a lovesick teenager for every single moment he was onstage. Since he wasn't expecting me, I figured Josh wouldn't see me until someone else pointed me out. Josh told me that he never actually saw anyone in the audience, because if he stopped to think about that many people looking at him at once he would probably freeze up completely. You couldn't tell when he was onstage, but Josh was a pretty shy guy, in general, and prone to nervousness. 

The concert started out fast and loud, with lots of flash, and the guys in bright, shiny costumes. Some of the songs had been remixed a little, and the choreography was completely changed, for the most part. The fans loved it, even if they didn't know why it was different, and Chris's explanation that they wanted to give everybody who had seen the previous concerts a newer show had been accepted without question. Some things you only noticed if you looked for them, like Justin being as far from Joey as possible, no matter what they were doing, or how close together the arrangement had the whole group of them. Whenever they split sides, the two of them always went in the opposite direction, and when Justin was singing a lead, Joey was always at the end of whatever dance line was behind him. Joey didn't argue or question it when they'd mapped it out, not wanting to push Justin's comfort level, and we all just kind of hoped that Justin would eventually cross his own line, and be close to Joey again. 

After the opening songs, they had the first break, which was Lance sitting on a jutting piece of the stage, saying hi to whatever city they were in ("Hi there, New York!" was tonight's greeting), explaining that it would be just him for the next song, and then singing a really bluesy version of "Dock of the Bay", which worked well with his deep voice. Halfway through it he glanced over and spotted Andrew and I, and I could tell that he was surprised. Apparently, like Melinda, everyone thought I was coming in tomorrow, but as he finished up he gave me a quick wink, and I knew that Josh would know about me in about ten more seconds. When Lance finished up, he introduced Joey, who came out on a moving platform as Lance's slid back into the stage, singing "Ready to Fall." None of the mechanical platform shifting was quite as elaborate as the Celebrity tour or the NSA tour, which was good, since it didn't require a hundred trucks to transport the stage. 

After Joey finished up, nodding to me with a smile, all of them were back onstage, doing a few of their slower ballads. As soon as they hit the stage Josh looked around for me and smiled, blowing me a kiss before launching into his part. I found myself grinning thoughtlessly, and smacked Andrew on the arm as he rolled his eyes and sighed. The lineup was a nice mix of their newer stuff, which was selling quite well, and the older favorites, although, as on the last tour, some of the older songs had been remixed and tweaked a little. This set rounded out with Justin doing "Gone", his spotlight piece, while all of them sat on beanbags in pajama bottoms and t-shirts. I hadn't seen the costuming for this until the final dress rehearsal, when they did the whole show for family and friends, and I had felt my eyes water when Josh sat down on his beanbag and we all saw that the front of his t-shirt had "J Squared" on it in silvery glitter. Replicas of it were selling at the concession stands better than some of the regular band shirts, as gay guys everywhere were buying them up. Josh and I had become icons, bigger than Ellen and Anne or Rosie and what's her name, and unlike George Michael, Josh still had a career. 

After the lights went down on that Chris came out, full of hyperactive energy, to get everyone excited again, wearing a stupid propeller beanie on his head and leading the audience in a mostly participatory version of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". I laughed all the way through it, clapping and singing along, which is exactly what Chris wanted people to do when he decided to make that his solo piece. It got everyone excited again, and laughing, especially listening to his sharply high voice, and made a great segue back into their faster songs, with more of the flashing lights and dizzying choreography they were known for. Watching them, even though I'd now seen this show several times in a row, I always felt an immense sense of pride, knowing how hard they worked, and that everything we were listening to was real, because they didn't sing to a tape, like Britney did. 

After the set of fast songs, though, I felt myself tensing up a little, knowing what was coming next. The lights went down, and then one spotlight came on as Josh rose up from below the stage, seated at a piano, all in black. If the core audience had been older, there would have been cigarette lighters going on all over the arena, but instead it was just those spinning light thingies they sold at the concession stands, lighting up the darkness as Josh, without an introduction, began playing "Incomplete". The house, as always, was silent, saving their swell of applause for the end, and my eyes, as always, watered at hearing Josh's voice so filled with raw emotion and pain. Andrew handed me some tissues. 

"You ok?" he asked, as Josh, head bowed, sank back below the stage. 

"I'm fine," I lied, blotting at my eyes. I knew why Josh had picked that song, since we'd talked about it on the honeymoon, but it still brought back a lot of painful memories for us both. Maybe facing them during every show helped Josh to lay them to rest, by taking some of the sting out of them, but I was more of the feeling that it would be better to let a scab form over the whole thing, to push it all away. I knew that wasn't healthy, though, which was why I'd agreed to let the guys put the song on the album, and to let Josh sing it. 

When it was over they popped back out amid more flashing lights and blasting music, and did a couple more songs before they finished the show, as was almost a tradition now, with "Bye Bye Bye". 

"We are Nsync!" Josh yelled, as they stood in the center of the stage holding hands. 

"Good night everybody!" Joey yelled as the guys, one by one, waved, and then jogged offstage. 

Down below, I knew, they would towel off and get changed before climbing wearily onto the bus back to the hotel. Josh would be tired, as he always seemed to be exhausted on tour, and the others were always showing me shots in their photo albums of Josh sleeping on busses, planes, and couches, wherever he could catch a spare wink. At the other end of the spectrum, Chris would be completely hyper, bouncing around the bus, guzzling water along with the rest of them, making sure everyone was ok and talking about everything that had happened during the show, even if it was routine. The other three were somewhere in between. Justin was always keyed up after a performance, but by morning would have coasted back down into his shell a little, and Lance's mood would change to match, going from enthused to nurturing as Justin needed him to. Joey would be dialing his phone as they got on the bus, calling to talk to Bri and to tuck her in over the phone. Chris always saved his call to Vlada for later, and Josh snickeringly suggested it was so they could have phone sex without the rest of them hearing. 

As Andrew and I walked backstage, heading for the dressing rooms, we ran into Chad in the hall, hair gelled, jeans too tight, looking for all the world like one of the backup dancers in his sleeveless top. I was almost sure that he was wearing lip gloss, and his eyes popped open in surprise when he saw me. 

"Jack!" he blurted, his voice cracking. "Oh my God! I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow!" 

"Apparently," I sneered. "That would probably be why I was sitting at the airport alone with no ride, and no passes. I bet I don't have a hotel key, either, do I, Chad?" 

He squirmed uncomfortably, and Andrew watched, not even bothering to pretend to be staring at the ceiling or something. 

"No," Chad answered finally, looking at me pleadingly. "I'm really, really sorry, though. It's just that, you know, JC said yesterday that he'd take me to lunch today, and I was really excited, and I guess I got your schedule confused, because I thought you were coming in at six in the morning, not six tonight." 

"You got confused?" I asked, feeling annoyed. "You have three main responsibilities, Chad. You open the mail to me and Josh, and help us with correspondence. Is that beyond you?" 

"No," he answered, looking at the floor as he wrung his hands together. 

"My face is up here, Chad, not on the carpet," I snapped. Why did he have to be such a wuss when I confronted him on anything he did? It made me feel like a bully. "You're my research assistant. You look things up for me and make sure my facts are up to date. Is that too much for you?" 

"No," Chad answered, looking at my mouth. It was closer to looking me in the eye than staring at the floor had been, but I still wanted to grab him and shake him. 

"The last thing you have to do is coordinate my schedule, to make sure shit like this doesn't happen," I said. "Since this is the second time in three weeks that I've been sitting at an airport with no ride, not to mention when I flew into Boston three hours after the busses rolled out of town, I'm thinking that maybe we might be asking too much of you. Are we?" 

"I said I was sorry," he whined, chewing on his bottom lip. 

"Fine, you're sorry, but my patience is gone, Chad," I said, shaking my head. "Maybe you should start thinking about whether or not this actually is the right job for you, because you can believe that I'm starting to wonder about it." 

"It won't happen again, Jack, " he said quietly. His face was starting to get a little red. 

"No, it won't," I agreed. I know that Josh wanted to give him a chance, and kept telling me to be patient with him, but he hadn't really shown any signs of improvement. He was flighty and unreliable, and I expected more out of someone that we were paying as much as he was getting. And it had nothing to do with the way he looked at Josh, either, like he would gladly hand over both his kidneys in a heartbeat if Josh asked for them. I was definitely not snapping at Chad all the time because I was possessive and jealous, and why was Josh taking him out to lunch, anyway? "Why don't you take a little time to think about this, and stop by our room, wherever in the hotel that may be since I have no idea, tomorrow morning at about eleven? If you still work for us by then I'll have some stuff for you." 

"OK," Chad said quickly, all but running down the hall. He was holding a hand up near his eyes, and I realized that I'd probably made him cry. Great. I felt my anger giving way to frustration as I realized that I'd been a total shit to him, treating him like my mother, oops, my other mother, treated the maid. 

"Good night, Chad," Andrew called down the hall after him, and I shot him a little glare. He blinked innocently at me. "What? Did you want me to grab him and hold him so that you could slap him, too?" 

"OK, your point is duly noted," I said, shaking my head. "I didn't mean to do that in front of you, and I could have handled that better. He just, I don't know, he pushes this button inside me, and I turn into this total bitch." 

"No way, Leona Helmsley," Andrew said, smirking again. "You're great with the hired help." 

"OK, I get it," I said, smiling against my will. "You know, Chad isn't the only employee I could fire." 

"Good luck finding someone else who's willing to put up with your drama," Andrew chuckled. "Are you going to need me tomorrow?" 

"Maybe in the afternoon," I answered. "I don't know what our schedule is." 

"OK," Andrew said. "Call my cell when you know. Now, the dressing rooms are right around that corner, and I think you can get that far on your own, unless you want me to walk you the rest of the way." 

"I think I'll be ok," I agreed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"Do us all a favor and get laid," Andrew called, walking away. "Take some of the edge off." 

"You're not funny," I called after him. I did, however, fully intend to get laid, but not until the morning, when Josh was fully awake. 

I turned and began to walk down the hall, passing the game room and the quiet room, which even I wasn't allowed to go in. It was band members only, and they were firm on that rule. There were two dressing rooms set up, as there had been at all of the other shows. Lance and Justin shared one, and Josh, Joey, and Chris shared the other. Lance, changed out of his costume and into regular clothes, was stepping into the hallway as I walked out, and when he saw me he broke into a grin as he closed the door of the dressing room behind him. He looked better every time I saw him, and last time I asked he'd told me that he was sleeping through the night a lot more frequently. I guess taking care of Justin was good for him. 

"Hey!" he said, holding out his arms. We hugged quickly, squeezing each other tight. Lance and I hadn't gotten along in the beginning, but we were well beyond that now. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow morning." 

"So did everyone," I sighed, pulling back. He caught the look on my face. "Yeah, Chad. Again. Great show tonight, by the way." 

"Thanks," he said. "I swiveled wrong during 'Pop', though. I wasn't concentrating." 

"Lance, no one noticed that, " I said, shaking my head. They were all like this. If I said the same thing to each of them, told them all it was a great show, all five of them would be able to tell me immediately one thing that they'd done wrong, and would have fixed by the next show. In almost every case, the audience never saw it, but they were such perfectionists. "Where's Justin?" 

"He's getting changed," Lance said, nodding toward the door. Lance was the only one allowed in the room when Justin changed, so I knew better than to knock. "I have to pee, though." 

"OK," I said. "Have fun. I'll see you guys on the bus, ok?" 

"Yeah," he answered. "Welcome back." 

"Thanks," I said, walking up to the other door. I could hear Chris and Joey laughing at something. Knocking, I leaned just my head in. "Hello?" 

"Jack!" Josh burst, hurrying across the room, shirtless. I felt my mouth watering as his bare torso danced toward me, and he jerked me inside, wrapping his strong arms tightly around me as he swung me in a circle across the room. I buried my face in his neck, my arms sliding over the smooth skin of his back as his sweaty hair brushed my cheek. 

"That's our cue to leave," Joey said, grabbing his bag. 

"See you two on the bus," Chris said, laughing, as he and Joey walked over to the door. 

"Mmmm hmmm," I mumbled, falling into Josh's blue eyes as he began to rain kisses across my face. I grabbed his head gently and pressed his mouth to mine, feeling the firm pressure of his silky lips as his invading tongue snaked into my mouth. When he finally pulled back we were both panting, and it seemed like we sucked in all the air in the room. 

"Welcome back," Josh breathed, not letting go of me. 

"Thanks," I said, sliding my hands over his velvety chest. He'd stopped waxing it, and I found the little sprinkling of hair across the tops of his pecs fascinating to play with. "I missed you." 

"I missed you more," Josh said, kissing me again. 

"It's only been two days, babe," I said, laughing, as I pulled away. 

"It felt like two months," he whined, pulling a shirt off of the rack next to him. 

"Well," I said, crossing my arms. "Why don't you finished getting dressed, so we can go back to the hotel, and make up for lost time?" 

"Let's go," he said, and I laughed. "What?" 

"Nothing," I said, pointing. "I was just thinking that maybe you needed some shoes." 

"Smartass," he snickered, looking around for them. 

"Love you," I said, pointing at them. 

"Love you, too," he answered, slipping his feet into them. "Let's go." 

---

CHAPTER 110

---

LANCE'S POV: 

Lance was happy to see Jack, but he needed to pee really badly, and, as he'd said, he'd see him on the bus. He'd already gotten changed, and knew that Justin would be finished changing soon. By unspoken agreement, Justin would just sit in the room, and wait for Lance to come back, so that they could walk out to the bus together. He would have been comfortable walking with any of the other guys, besides Joey, but he preferred Lance, and Lance didn't want to disappoint him. The tour was hard for Justin, the same way everything was hard for Justin, and Lance wanted to do whatever he could to make it easier on him. He pushed into the bathroom and was surprised to see Chad in front of the sinks, apparently crying, with a wad of tissues clutched in his hands. 

"Chad?" Lance asked, walking over. Chad turned away, throwing a quick smile toward Lance and wiping at his face with the back of his wrist. "You ok?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Chad answered, tossing the tissues in the garbage. He didn't want Lance, or anyone, really, to see him like this, so upset. "I was just, um, washing off my face." 

"The water isn't on," Lance pointed out. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I just wanted to ask if you were ok." 

"I'm fine, thanks," Chad repeated, turning away as Lance walked toward the stalls. "I'm just going to wash my face now, for real." 

"OK," Lance said, shrugging. Chad seemed like a nice guy, if a little emotional. Lance didn't like to see anyone upset, but if Chad didn't want to talk about it, then Lance didn't want to push. He heard the bathroom door close, and when he came out of the stall Chad was gone. He walked back down the hallway and tapped at the door to the dressing room. "Justin?" 

"I'm ok," Justin answered from inside. 

Justin wouldn't change in front of the other guys, and even Lance, living with him since the wedding, sharing a bedroom and frequently a bed, hadn't seen Justin naked. He would get down to briefs in front of Lance, or a towel, but if he was going to lose those Lance had to turn his back, and would wait patiently for Justin's soft assurance that he was ok. Not knowing for sure if he was finished changing, Lance didn't want to burst in without knocking and upset him. When Lance pushed open the door, Justin was sitting in front of the dressing table, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes met Lance's in the glass, and he smiled, but it was just a small one, without teeth. 

"Are you ready to get on the bus?" Lance asked. 

"Yeah," Justin answered, staring at himself again. Lance walked over, standing behind him, and Justin reached up to take his hand, his eyes glistening. 

"Justin?" Lance asked, dropping down. He stared into the mirror with Justin, wondering what they were looking at. "What are you looking at?" 

"Justin Timberlake," Justin answered, and began to cry. Lance held him tightly, feeling his shoulders shake as Justin buried his face in Lance's chest. Lance didn't ask any questions, knowing that Justin would say it when he was ready, but he expected this. Sometimes it didn't happen until they got back to the hotel, sometimes not until the middle of the night, but there had been a scene like this after almost every show. Justin didn't always talk, and hadn't ever stared at himself in the mirror, but he had cried over something at the end of every show, and Lance figured it was from stress. Lance mentally chastised himself for leaving Justin alone, even for a second. 

"It's ok, Justin," Lance quietly, rocking a little, rubbing the back of Justin's head with one hand while making circles on his back with the other. "I'm here now, right here." 

Justin wasn't sobbing, not full out, heartrending crying, but tears were trickling freely onto Lance's shirt as Justin fought to get his breathing, and himself, under control. He was making a low, keening sort of sound, shaking in Lance's arms, but he was glad for the touch, glad to know that Lance was here, and would take care of him. He hadn't meant to do this, to be like this, when Lance came back from the bathroom, but he'd glanced in the mirror, and saw himself, and tried to see what everyone else did. He'd tried so hard, but he couldn't do it. 

"I'm sorry, Lance," Justin whimpered, sniffling, trying to clear his nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to get like this, I didn't." 

"It's ok, Justin," Lance said, pulling up the bottom of his own shirt to blot Justin's eyes with it. "I understand." 

"It's just, I was thinking about the show, and how well it went," Justin said, closing his eyes as he saw it all again in his head. 

"It did, Justin, it did go well," Lance assured him, still holding him. "You did everything right. You were so good." 

"I dropped my hat in the wrong place and it almost tripped Chris," Justin pointed out. Lance shook his head. 

"That doesn't matter," Lance said. "Chris won't be mad at you. Accidents happen, Justin." 

"I know," Justin said, nodding. He pulled away from Lance, sitting on the edge of the dressing table, his back to the mirror. "I just, I was thinking about the concert. When we do it, when we go out, and I hear everyone cheering, and screaming, they see me, Lance. They see me like I used to be, like I was before, and while we're out there, while they do it, it's like, like I am like before. For the show, the whole thing, that's who they see, and that's who I am, but then I, I come back inside. I come back inside, and I look in the mirror, and I, I try to see it, and I can't. I can't be like I was, ever again, Lance, ever." 

Justin began to cry again, sobbing now, his shoulders not just trembling, but shaking, and Lance held onto him, telling him over and over that it would be ok. The guys had all been afraid of something like this, and had almost cancelled the tour, but Justin and his therapist had both agreed that it would be good for Justin to try this again, to do the things he loved, with people he trusted, and to try to go on with his life. So far, it seemed to be working, seemed to be opening him up some, but there were still these moments when Justin couldn't hold it all together, and these were the times when he needed Lance close by, when he needed someone he trusted to hold onto him and tell him it would all be ok. He needed to hear it from someone he believed. Justin's tears began to taper off again, and Lance blotted at his face a second time. 

"You'll be like that again, someday, Justin," Lance promised. Justin could hear the assurance, the promise, in his voice. "Someday." 

"But it makes me remember, Lance," Justin whispered, and this was what hurt him the most. Lance knew that once Justin's mind started down this particular path, it wouldn't let go, wouldn't let him block it out. Justin was as helpless to prevent himself from remembering what happened as he had been to stop it from actually happening. Every time he thought of it, he relived it, and it ripped him apart inside. "He hurt me. He hurt me so much." 

"I know, Justin," Lance said, rocking him again. "I know. Justin, we don't have to do this. You know that. We can stop the tour, cancel the rest, tell people you're sick. We all agreed that we would if you needed us to, Justin. All you have to do is say the word." 

"No," Justin said, shaking his head. He pulled back from Lance again, swallowing, using his own shirt to blot his face this time. Lance stared into Justin's blue eyes and saw something else there, something he thought he'd caught over the past few weeks, during the rehearsals and the shows. He saw a flash of the old Justin, and he knew that someday Justin would bounce back from this. "I won't quit, Lance, I won't, and I won't make you guys, either. I'm not, I won't let him take that away from me, too. I won't." 

"You're so brave, Justin, so brave," Lance said, not wanting to smile, but feeling a swell of pride and happiness inside, just the same. He gently guided Justin to his feet, and walked him over to the dressing table, pulling some tissues out of the box and blotting carefully at Justin's face. Justin reached up with a shaking fingertip and flicked it under Lance's eye, flicking away the lone tear there. 

"Thank you, Lance," Justin said, hugging him. 

"You're welcome," Lance said, holding him tightly, feeling the muscles in Justin's back shift, and his hear hammering in his chest. "Are you ready to go out to the bus now? The guys are probably all waiting for us." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready," Justin said, giving his eyes one last swipe. 

He took Lance's hand, and Lance led him down the hallways and out to the parking lot. Justin held Lance's hand tightly, tensing a little each time they rounded a corner, or a door opened, but he really was getting better, and he was mostly ok in the backstage areas, because he knew that no one would be there unauthorized, but he was still a little skittish about people approaching him, or touching him. Management knew that something was up, as you kind of had to be blind to miss the way the guys were acting, but no one would get into it with them. To protect Justin, they had closed ranks around him like a wagon train circling up around the campfire, and all of the things they'd done to accommodate Justin had been explained as things the entire group wanted. Mixed in with all the other changes, like Chad and Jack traveling with JC, or Vlada tagging along with Chris for days at a time, the tighter security around the guys seemed just one more in a list of their requests. 

They nodded at the crew members they passed on the way to the bus, not worrying about holding hands, because the crew saw them all touching each other, hugging, holding hands, or whatever, all the time anyway. Lance winced inside each time he felt Justin squeeze, and thought about how much he'd like to grab Nick, and take him behind a closed door somewhere, and make him pay. He blinked, shaking his head, knowing that he shouldn't think like that. It was easy for him to think that way when he was angry, easy for him to want to lash out, but he knew those thoughts weren't him, weren't things that belonged in his mind. They were probably the kind of thoughts that Howie had, the kind that made him the way he was, and Lance had promised himself that he would never think that way, no matter how mad he was, or how upset. Sometimes in his dreams, though, different things happened. Lately they'd gotten darker. Sometimes it was still Howie and Nick hurting him, or hurting Justin, but every once in a while, Lance hurt them, and those dreams scared the hell out of him. 

As they approached the bus he noticed how subdued Justin still was, withdrawn, and thought of something that would cheer him up. 

"Hey Justin, you heard us below the stage, right?" Lance asked, smiling at him as they crossed the parking lot. All the lights were on inside the bus, and the engine was running, confirming Lance's suspicion that they were running late. 

"Huh?" Justin asked. All he'd been concentrating on was the show. 

"Jack's here," Lance said. Justin nodded. He'd heard that, and it would be nice to see him again, even if he only had been gone for a couple days. "Justin, that means someone else is waiting on the bus for you." 

"Oh? Oh!" Justin said, grinning. He almost jerked Lance's arm out of the socket hurrying toward the bus, and as Justin thundered up the steps they heard a flurry of barks as Junior hurried through the bus toward them. Justin dropped to his knees, scooping Junior up and holding him to his chest as Junior licked all over his face and chin. "Junior! Baby!" 

Lance smiled, watching Justin carry Junior reverentially toward Jack and JC, who were standing in the aisle. Junior had grown from a tiny puppy into a small dog in the two months since JC had brought him home for Jack, but he was almost jointly owned by Justin. The little brown and black dog loved Justin, and Justin was devoted to him. When Jack was with them, Junior spent every night in Justin and Lance's suite, curled up next to Justin in bed. Justin never seemed to think or realize, as Lance did, that if Junior was sleeping in their suite, JC and Jack didn't have to have him interrupting things in their bed. They also knew, though, that Junior gave Justin something else to focus on, and something that could love him unconditionally in a way that didn't threaten him, and that was very important to them. As much as Jack and JC loved their dog, Lance knew they would both turn him over to Justin in a heartbeat if Justin asked. 

"Hey, Justin," Jack said, smiling. It was hard for him to walk with JC's arms wrapped around him from behind, but he leaned forward and gave Justin a quick hug around the shoulders when Justin leaned toward him. 

"Welcome back," Justin said, still holding the dog as it continued licking his face. "Has he been out? Did someone give him some water?" 

"He's fine, Justin," Jack answered, laughing. JC tugged on him. "I believe I'm going to go sit down on top of Josh somewhere. The dog toys are over there in the basket if you want to play with him." 

"You don't mind?" Justin asked. He always asked permission, as if he was afraid Jack would pull Junior out of his hands and run away. 

"No, Justin, of course not," Jack answered. "I think he missed you. You might want to sit down, though. I think we're about to pull out." 

"Yeah, but sometimes it's not a bad thing if the bus lurches and someone falls on you," JC said, nuzzling Jack's neck as he tugged him toward a couch. 

Justin sat down on the floor as he reached for a bucket of dog toys, Junior sitting expectantly between Justin's outstretched legs, waiting to see what he would produce. His little tail was wagging so hard that his back end was shaking as he sat on the floor, and Lance smiled, seeing how happy both of them were. He patted Justin on the shoulder as he passed him, and Justin smiled up at him. As he walked the length of the bus, Lance heard Joey talking quietly on the phone, inside his bunk, and then Chris grabbed his arm and tugged him into the bathroom. Lance looked down into Chris's brown eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. 

"You guys took forever getting out here," Chris said. "I was almost going to come back for you. Is everything ok?" 

"Yeah," Lance answered, nodding, relieved that there wasn't something terrible going on. Sometimes Lance felt like they all jumped at every shadow now, and he wondered if they needed to all get into some kind of group therapy. Sometimes it seemed like they were all shell shocked. "Justin just, you know, he had a moment." 

"Is he ok?" Chris asked, glancing toward the bathroom door. It wasn't hard, since he was almost touching it. 

"I think so," Lance answered. "I mean, he needs a good night's sleep, but having Junior with us will help a lot. I think he'll shake it off by morning, as much as he ever does." 

"What about you?" Chris asked, squeezing Lance's shoulder. "Are you ok? Do you need anything?" 

"You mean other than not having the sink poking me in the back in here?" Lance asked, grinning. "Seriously, was the bathroom always this small?" 

"It has been for the whole tour, yes," Chris answered, not willing to be so easily distracted. He'd accept Lance's assurances about Justin, because Lance was the authority on Justin's mental state outside of his therapist, but he also knew that Lance would neglect his own needs without a second thought if he believed Justin needed him more. "Lance, I mean it. Are you ok? Because you look kind of tired, and you have these little bags under your eyes. If there was anywhere else on the bus to talk we wouldn't be in here, but we're not getting out until you talk to me, ok?" 

Lance sighed, but smiled. 

"I know I look tired, Chris, " he said, hugging him, laying a head on Chris's shoulder. He pulled back a little, but Chris didn't let go. 

"Talk to me, Lance, please?" Chris said. "It's not just Justin I'm worried about, you know?" 

"I know, Chris," Lance said, swallowing. Chris's eyes were friendly, but firm, and Lance couldn't really avoid them in the tiny space of the bathroom. He and Chris hadn't always been close, but now that Justin and Chris had renewed their bond, Lance had been pulled in as well. "I just, I haven't been sleeping good since the tour started." 

"Why not?" Chris asked, smoothing Lance's hair back. "What's wrong? Is it more nightmares?" 

"Not exactly," Lance said, shrugging. "It's hard to explain. I just, I get so angry sometimes. I get so mad, not about what happened to me, but about Justin. I mean, he was just trying to help me, Chris. I know why things went bad with me and Howie, and why Howie, why he was so mad all the time. I understand that, but why did this have to happen to Justin? He just wanted to help me, and Nick, he, you know, why did he have to do that to Justin, Chris? Why?" 

"I don't know, Lance," Chris answered. "I don't think any of us can answer that, and no answer is going to be worth it. No answer is going to take this away, not for Justin, and not for the rest of us, either." 

"I know," Lance said, frowning. "I just, I think about it, about what happened, and I get so angry, and I want to, I, I think about hurting Nick. I think about just grabbing him, and hitting him, hitting him the way Howie hit me when he was mad. I think about, about holding Nick down, and just hitting him, over and over, and I don't want to think about that. I don't want to think about that, because it scares me, Chris. It scares me so much, because I don't ever want to be that way, ever. I don't want to let being angry consume me, and it's so hard not to, like you wouldn't believe. Every time Justin cries, or wakes up from a nightmare, I feel it, and I don't want to be that kind of a person." 

Chris tried to understand, and to think of the right thing to say. He could understand being angry, because he felt it, too. Sometimes when he thought about Lance, being afraid in his own house for months, being hurt by Howie, someone they had all trusted, he thought about how good it would feel to slap Howie around. He felt the same way every time he saw Justin shy away from someone, or saw him afraid to do something he wouldn't have given a second thought to before, like getting changed in front of them, or going out to a club or a restaurant. As frustrated as he felt, though, he couldn't even imagine what it was like to be Lance, to feel that way, but also to have so many memories tied into it. 

"What does your therapist say about that?" Chris asked, not wanting to disagree, and hoping the guy had some better advice than Chris did. 

"He says that it's ok to be angry, and that it's understandable," Lance said, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid, Chris. I'm afraid that I'll be angry, and that I'll hurt someone. I'm afraid that I'll take it out on one of you without thinking about it. I know what that's like, Chris. I know what it feels like, and I don't want to do that to someone else, and I'm so scared that I will." 

"But you'll never do that, Lance, never," Chris said, hugging him tightly. "You'll never do that because it's what you're afraid of, and it's not who you are. You'll never be like Howie, Lance." 

"I know, but I'm still afraid I will," Lance said, squeezing Chris hard in the tiny bathroom. Chris worried that his lungs might collapse, but Lance needed him, so he just squeezed back. "And sometimes, in my dreams." 

"I know, Lance, I know," Chris said, patting his back. "Listen, I want you to take a break tomorrow, ok?" 

"What do you mean?" Lance asked, pulling back. They were all on break tomorrow, before the party tomorrow night. 

"I'm taking Justin golfing in the morning," Chris began, and Lance nodded. Chris and Justin had golfed on every stop of the tour so far, and Justin looked forward to it now. Lance, however, didn't golf. "Rather than following us around in the cart with your book, I want you to take the day for yourself tomorrow, ok? Rest, watch TV, go shopping, or whatever. I want you to spend a day having some Lance time." 

"But, but," Lance began, protesting, and Chris put a hand over his mouth. 

"No buts, because where there's a butt, shit follows," Chris said seriously, and Lance blushed. "I mean it, Lance. I'll take care of Justin tomorrow, and you take care of yourself, ok?" 

Lance thought about it for a second. In a way, Chris was right. Lance spent every minute, more or less, with Justin, unless one of them was in a therapy session. Maybe he did need a little break. Besides, Justin trusted Chris, and it would be good for him to venture out without Lance, too. He needed to start doing stuff like that again, if he was ready to. 

"If it's ok with Justin," Lance said finally. Chris started to say something else, and Lance shook his head. "No, Chris, that's final. Justin and I don't lie to each other, and I'm not going to pretend to be sick or something. I'll ask him if he minds if I don't go, and if he's not ok with it, that's the end of it for now. He's my responsibility, Chris, and I won't shirk that." 

"OK," Chris nodded. He wasn't going to argue the point with Lance, yet again, that Justin was all of their responsibility. They'd already been in the bathroom too long as it was. "Are we ok, Lance?" 

"Yeah, we are," Lance said, smiling. "Thanks for watching out for me, and Justin." 

"That's my job, kid," Chris said, reaching behind him to flush the toilet. 

"What's that for?" Lance asked. 

"Because we've been in here for five minutes," Chris said. "We need an excuse." 

Lance followed Chris out of the bathroom, not quite understanding what he had in mind, but willing to play along. Justin was still seated in the aisle with Junior, happily engaged in tug of war with one of Junior's toy, both of them making absurd little growling noises, as if either of them could be threatening. Justin looked up at Lance cautiously as they stepped out, wondering what they'd been in the bathroom for so long for, but Lance smiled and shook his head to let Justin know it was nothing. As they passed the bunks, he heard Joey still on the phone, and felt a little surge of loss, thinking about how far apart he and Joey had drifted over the past few weeks, over this thing with Justin. No, Lance corrected himself, over Joey's stupid thing with Justin. It was Joey's stubborn pigheadedness and distrust keeping them apart right now, and Lance wasn't going to be the first one to break on that. 

JC and Jack looked up as he and Chris walked into the back area. The two of them were sprawled across one of the couches, Jack leaning against JC while JC drowsily rested a head on Jack's shoulder, his hands curled possessively around Jack's chest, Jack's hands resting on top of them. Lance and Chris sat down on the other couch, and Jack smiled at them while JC nuzzled the side of his neck. 

"What was going on in the bathroom?" Jack asked. 

"My babymaker's so big I needed Lance to help me hold it," Chris said, beaming, as Lance's mouth dropped open. JC and Jack both snickered. 

"Really?" Jack asked skeptically. 

"Well, we did sort of almost see it that time," JC said, squeezing Jack tightly. "Remember, when he was cuffed to the bed? In those hotpants? The sequined ones?" 

"Oh yeah," Jack said, nodding. "We gotta get you a pair of those, baby." 

"You, too," JC said, laughing. 

"Get a room," Chris grumbled, shaking his head. 

"Bathroom's free," Jack said, giggling again. "Now that Lance is all done jerking you off." 

"I was not!" Lance said, grinning, but blushing bright red at the same time. 

"Lance was jerking off?" Joey asked, walking into the back. Lance stared at him a little frostily, but the others didn't seem to notice. 

"Jerking off Chris," JC answered. "Chris told us he needed help." 

"Probably because he's so old," Joey said, shrugging. "Poor Vlada." 

"You all suck," Chris said, shaking his head. 

"No, just those three," Joey said, pointing at Lance, Jack, and JC. 

"Can we talk about something else, please?" Chris said, throwing his hands toward the ceiling. "Lance and I aren't ready to reveal our forbidden love right now." 

"I thought you were straight, " JC said, smirking at Chris. "When did you start trying boys?" 

"Everyone else is doing it," Chris said nonchalantly, shrugging. He leaned over and kissed Lance on the cheek, and they all burst into laughter. Lance was laughing, too, but also blushing, and Chris immediately redirected, worried that he had crossed one of Lance's boundaries. "So, Jack, how was the speech thing?" 

"It went pretty well," Jack answered, shrugging. "No big surprises, and I've never been to Indiana before, so it was kind of interesting. They took me out to eat at this brewing company, and I ordered you each a case of beer, by the way. They'll be at your houses when the tour's over." 

The guys thanked him, Joey and Chris giving each other a high five, being the only real beer drinkers in the group. Jack kept bringing them all back little souvenirs, or ordering things for them when he was on the road, just to let them know he was thinking of them. Lance was willing to bet that there was also some sort of special gift for JC in Jack's suitcase somewhere, because the two of them were always doing that, too, although Lance couldn't think of what you'd bring someone from Indiana. It was such a nondescript state, not known for anything, really. Before Jack went onstage for any of his talks, there was always a bouquet of flowers or box of candy or something for him, which Lance knew from listening to JC set up all the deliveries on the phone in between events. Once Howie had been devoted to him like that, too, but that was a long time ago. 

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," Joey said, cocking his head to one side as he listened to Jack tell them about his trip. 

"Chad screwed up my flight again," Jack sighed, frowning. 

"Hey, is he ok?" Lance asked. Everyone looked at him. "I ran into him in the bathroom before, and I think he was crying." 

As soon as he said it he realized what had happened, but it was too late. Everyone glanced at Jack, who was reddening and looking a little uncomfortable, and then they all looked away. Lance mouthed a quick "Sorry", at Jack, and Jack caught it, but he was a little more concerned with JC, who was looking at him with a firm, tense expression, than he was with Lance. There was an air of tension between the two of them, and Lance wondered if this was something they'd argued over before. Everyone rode in silence for a bit, except Justin, who was still growling at Junior, not paying any attention to the rest of them at all. Lance couldn't wait to get off of the bus, but at least Justin was comfortable. 

 

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