The More Things Change 3
By Diana
Author's Notes: Enjoy, feedback welcome, etc. Sorry for the extreme lateness of this part, but I've been developing other stories over the past month and work has been keeping me busy. Besides, there are only three or four chapters left, I want you guys to enjoy it while it lasts. :) And be on the lookout for two new fics: an AU spoof and a BSB/N'Sync story named "Vendetta". Both are set to make their Nifty debut on Monday, so keep your eyes peeled. BSB fans should be warned, I'm hardly their biggest fan, so I may get some facts wrong. One last note: This chapter contains a cameo by my absolute, all-time favorite talk show host. You'll know it when you see it. ;)
Story Recommendations: Three non-Nifty fics have caught my attention recently. The first is a non-slash non-sexual (but still very good) story called "Nobody Loved You" by Neesha Young (http://www.freespeech.org/neesha/nobody.htm). Another nice fic with very disappointing sequels is "I Need You Tonight" by Matthew Time (http://www.matthewtime.com/ineedyoutonight.html), and finally, "So Pure", a Joey/Lance story by M. Lewis which you'll find at http://uregina.ca/~lewismm/nsync/sopure.html. I highly recommend it.
Disclaimer: The song featured here is "Ordinary World" by Aurora and Naimee Coleman. I had a HELL of a time deciding between this and Madonna's "The Power of Goodbye", so you guys can choose whichever one you like more. :)
It's a shame I have to do this, but ALL of my material is copyrighted 2001 Diana Martin. Plagarism will NOT be tolerated.
The haze of red clouding his vision started to part, and for a moment, Justin wasn't sure where he was or what he was doing.
It all came rushing back to him a moment later, though. He was in his room. He'd caught Lance by surprise, and beaten him into unconsciousness. And now Lance was sprawled on the floor, utterly at his mercy.
Justin couldn't help smiling at the irony; their positions had been reversed not too long ago. He'd been helpless, chained, as a smug Lance tormented him. So confident that he was going to win. But the backlash had finally caught up with him, and he wasn't looking so hot anymore. Nope, that piece of glass pressed against his throat did NOT look good on him.
The curly-haired teen paused for a moment, looking down at his steady hand. Could it really be that simple? Drive his arm forward, just a little bit - he could even say he slipped - and Lance would be dead and gone? Justin licked his lips; part of him wanted nothing more than to see this bastard bleed. The part Justin had kept under wraps his entire life. The part Jack and Lance had set free.
His fingers tightened around the lamp shard. This wasn't right. Slitting his throat was swift and painless, and Lance wouldn't even feel it. It wasn't enough. Justin wanted Lance's pain, his terror. He wanted to make Lance feel everything HE'D felt in that warehouse before killing him. He would accept nothing less.
With a disgusted grunt, Justin withdrew his arm, discarding the lamp piece and rearing back on his haunches. He needed time to think.
Unfortunately, he was denied that time when someone knocked on his door. Justin's breath caught in his throat; their fight had obviously made more noise than he thought. Still, the door was locked... maybe whoever it was would get the hint and go away.
"Justin?" Joey's voice came from outside, accompanied by another series of fierce knocks. "What's going on in there?!"
Justin cursed softly. Joey. It would HAVE to be Joey. The only member of N'Sync who never let a locked door stop him. If he didn't come up with something FAST, that Italian ape would probably break the door down.
His ice-blue gaze lowered to the helpless Lance. "Well, if I can't kill you, I might as well frame you." he mumbled, backing away from the unconscious body. Running his hands through his hair, Justin proceeded to pull and twist at the golden-brown curls until they were a total mess. After a moment of hesitation, he bit down hard on his lower lip, causing blood to trickle from the fresh wound. He tasted copper, resisted the urge to spit it out.
Hopefully this would be enough to convince them. Finally, Justin flung himself at the door, unlocking it and immediately throwing himself forward. As he'd expected, Joey caught him easily, despite his surprise.
"Whoa!" the taller teen exclaimed, helping Justin regain his balance. His eyes widened as he took in his friend's disheveled state. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Lance..." Justin whimpered, aware that JC was standing nearby, watching them. Leaning forward, Justin wrapped his arms around Joey, burying his face in the older teen's chest. "H-he just ATTACKED me! We were talking about you guys, and... and when I mentioned JC, he..." The blonde paused for a moment, shaking like a leaf in the wind. "He s-said he would never let me have him, that he wouldn't let me ruin his plans." Justin raised his tear-flooded eyes to meet Joey's gaze. "I don't know what he was talking about, I swear!"
At a loss for words, Joey merely held the trembling Justin close, exchanging a glance with JC. The latter's eyes were practically glowing with hatred, fully focused on Lance. A chill ran up Joey's spine as he remembered JC's warning to the older blonde: If you do anything... tell one lie, move a hair on his head... I'll kill you.
Jesus, he really meant it. Joey realized. If Lance wasn't already down, JC would have done it.
That was more than a little disturbing. They'd known each other for years, trusted each other with their darkest secrets, helped each other through the rough times. They'd given their heart and souls to achieve their collective dream. And JC would have snapped Lance's neck like a twig if he had the chance. Had they fallen that far?
This is getting out of hand. the Brooklyn-born teen thought. What are we gonna do?
No answer was forthcoming.
His face hurt. His stomach hurt. His throat hurt. His hands were tingling.
But if he felt anything at all, that meant he was still alive. So Lance welcomed all the sensations, bliss and agony alike.
His eyes fluttered open only to be blinded by harsh crimson light; the sun was setting. He immediately realized two things: He must have been unconscious for at least six hours, to have missed the entire afternoon. And he'd been moved in that time; there was a soft mattress under him now.
The glare of sunset was still directly in his eyes, and Lance tried to cover them, only to find that his wrists had been tied to the bedpost with a pair of handkerchiefs. Whoever had done it was apparently furious when he did so, as the cloths had been tied so tightly that the circulation to Lance's hands had been cut off. Which explained the tingling in his hands.
"Good afternoon." a voice called out, and Lance squinted, seeing a shadow move in front of the sun. He exhaled in relief as he recognized Joey's familiar features.
"Hey." Lance muttered. "Do I look as bad as I feel?"
Joey shrugged. His hands were moving beneath Lance's field of vision, and the blond couldn't see what his friend was doing. "I don't know." Joey replied plainly. "How do you feel?"
Lance tried to sit up, but his shoulders protested with a wave of pain that swept across his back, causing him to sink back against the pillows. "Bad." he managed to spit out through gritted teeth. "Really bad."
"You don't look bad. But you don't look like a fucking snake either, so I don't trust your looks anymore." His voice was still devoid of any tone, cold and lifeless. Was this really Joey Fatone talking to him?
Unable to stand the anxiety anymore, Lance opened his eyes wide, ignoring the pain as he finally saw what Joey was doing. There was a suitcase on the bed next to him, and Joey was stuffing it with clothes. Lance's clothes.
"What are you doing?" the blonde asked weakly.
"Packing your things. You're leaving tonight."
Lance almost stopped breathing. He was serious. "Joey, wait..."
But Joey didn't even slow down. He just kept on stuffing Lance's things into the suitcase. Idly, Lance wondered what his friend would do when he ran out of things to pack; he decided not to wait and find out. "Dammit, Joey, listen to me!"
Finally, the other teen paused, turning an expectant gaze on his friend. But now that he had Joey's attention, Lance couldn't think of a convincing way to tell him the truth. Instead, he just blurted it out.
"Justin's faking his amnesia."
Joey's response was immediate and predictable; he rolled his eyes, sighed and resumed his activities. The lack of trust stung Lance, even though he probably deserved it.
"I'm telling you the truth!" Lance insisted, still struggling to sit up. "He's faking it! He remembers everything!"
"Right." Joey was almost sneering now, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And he kidnapped himself too, right?" He shook his head disgustedly. "And I defended you. I stood up for you."
Tears welled up in Lance's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He couldn't afford to look so pathetic now, not when he had a real chance to redeem himself. "Joey, hear me out! Please! If you don't believe me, I'll go, okay?"
Joey paused again, giving Lance a cautious look. Then he folded his arms and gestured for Lance to continue. The blonde lay back on the mattress, going over his words in his head before saying them aloud. If he couldn't convince Joey this time, it was over.
"You remember why you thought JC was sleeping with me?"
Joey nodded. "The photo." He obviously didn't want to expand on that.
"Exactly. And you remember when I told you the truth? On the bus?"
A second nod.
"Who was there?"
"Me. Josh. Chris..." Joey's eyes widened. "Justin was in the hospital."
"He doesn't know, Joey." Lance explained forcefully, as though he could hammer his point into Joey's brain. "He doesn't know it was a fake."
Joey was quickly putting two and two together. "He thinks JC cheated on him." he mumbled, lost in thought.
"He's losing it, Joe." the younger teen stated grimly. "I didn't do anything to him last night. For God's sake, LOOK at me!"
Joey looked. He took in his friend's battered appearance, compared it to the way Justin had looked as he burst from his room, sobbing and gasping for breath. Strange, that Justin had escaped the attack with only messed hair and a cut lip while Lance had bruises all over his face and chest. If Lance really HAD ambushed Justin, he could have easily done a lot more damage.
For a moment, the Italian teen felt paralyzed by indecision. Lance had violated his trust once before, he didn't ever want to feel that again. But at the same time, if Justin really WAS playing some sick game, he owed it to the group to find out.
Finally, after giving a soft sigh of resignation, Joey untied Lance. The blonde immediately rubbed his wrists, feeling the blood start to flow again.
"You stay here." Joey instructed, in a tone that allowed no arguments. "I'm gonna find out what the fuck is going on here."
Jaw set in determination, he set off to do just that.
The throbbing in his lip was getting easier to endure. Justin smiled ruefully; his pain threshold was much lower than it had been six months ago. He was getting soft again. That wasn't entirely unwelcome, as it symbolized a return to the old life he missed so much. But on the other hand, he had to be indestructible, unforgiving, until his revenge was complete.
And it was so close. For standing at arm's length, up to his elbows in soapy water, was his husband. He'd asked JC to help with the dishes, and JC had hesitantly agreed. Justin knew that being so close would torture JC even more, and that was exactly what he wanted. Even now, as JC handed Justin a dried glass, the blonde noted that his hands were trembling.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to beat Lance up or play these mind games with JC. He wanted more, and he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.
His hands clenched suddenly, his teeth ground together as a sudden rush of fury washed over him. JC looked so fucked-up, so sad. Like anything had actually HAPPENED to him. Like HE'D been raped or beaten up or betrayed. Like he had any reason to wallow in self-pity.
He was reaching that familiar boiling point again, just like before, with Lance. Silently, Justin reached out and pulled a wickedly sharp knife from the block. Grasping its hilt tightly, he slowly turned towards JC and took a step forward.
At the same time, a plate slipped through JC's fingers and cracked apart in the sink. He cursed softly and bent over the sink, trying to salvage the pieces.
Justin smiled softly, taking another step forward. His arm rose, the knife's tip pointed downwards at JC's back. One swing, and it'd be over. His rage would be appeased. He could do this. He could.
He stood there for endless moments, the knife held high above his head. There would never be another chance like this, and his time was running out. JC was going to turn around any second. All he had to do was let his arm go, let it slam down into JC's back.
His gaze slowly drifted upwards, towards the knife. It gleamed in the kitchen light, and Justin could see a face in the blade. A face veiled with ebony hair, with black eyes that burned like coal.
With a horrified gasp, Justin dropped the knife. It clattered onto the tiled floor, and JC jumped at the sudden noise. He looked at Justin for a long moment, then at the knife, lying so innocently on the linoleum floor.
Their eyes met.
"I dropped it." Justin explained weakly, picking up the knife and setting it down on the counter.
JC just watched him, his face unreadable. What was he thinking? Did he suspect...
A momentary panic seized Justin, and he turned and walked out of the kitchen, feeling JC's eyes bore into his back.
As he strode through the living room, he noticed the TV was on, and the VCR was playing a recorded episode of FANatic. Justin paused, coming closer to the TV and smiling at the enthusiasm of the young girl, on her way to interview Britney. It had been a long time since anyone had smiled like that for him. He'd almost forgotten what the admiration of thousands felt like.
He reached out to turn the VCR off, but now the second segment of the show was beginning, and a familiar voice began to speak.
"My friend Molly has NO idea that MTV has chosen her to interview N'Sync, right here in Orlando!"
His hand froze, and Justin took a step back, focusing wide eyes on the screen. There, followed by the FANatic camera crew, was Jack Matthews, just as he'd been when they first met: black hair cropped short, with an easy-going smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling with genuine happiness as he led the crew over to a well-kept house.
Justin raised a trembling hand to his mouth as Jack burst into a darkened bedroom, barely able to contain his laughter as he revealed the news to a teenaged girl who predictably freaked out, screaming and grabbing Jack in an energetic bearhug. He looked so amazingly handsome, so ALIVE...
He was crying before he realized it, sinking to his knees and letting the tears flow as Jack and a barely-dressed Molly dove into the waiting limosuine. In all the time they'd been together, Jack had never smiled like that. There had never been that much light in his eyes. And this was only a few short hours before that fateful first meeting...
"Lance was telling the truth. You ARE faking it."
Justin whirled around as the tape stopped running. Standing in the shadows, with the VCR remote in one hand, was Joey Fatone.
He could deny it, of course. A thousand different lies ran through his mind, and any one of them would have fooled Joey. But he just nodded.
Joey sighed heavily, kneeling next to Justin. "Okay. So... why?"
Justin shrugged helplessly. "I'm scared, Joe." Their eyes met, and Joey could see the panic in his friend's eyes. He knew this wasn't some bullshit act. "Part of me wants to kill them for what they did to me. And I... I don't know if I can control it." Justin lowered his gaze to his hands. "You can't tell anyone."
Joey shook his head. "Curly, I can't..."
"I'm not asking you to lie for me." Justin pleaded urgently. "Just don't say anything. Please, Joey... I can't deal with everything right now. I need time."
Joey's face was blank for a long moment as he stared off into space. This wasn't what he'd expected, he hadn't had any response planned if Lance was proven right. Deep down, he hadn't believed his bandmate.
Lance's warning came back to him: He's losing it. Could Justin's sanity really be at stake? After all, he was vicious enough to knock Lance into the middle of next week, but the mere sight of his dead boyfriend was enough to bring him to his knees.
"I guess we both need time." Joey finally managed. "I can't promise anything, Just. This is tearing the group apart, and I don't wanna be the guy who could've stopped it and didn't."
Justin nodded gratefully, giving Joey a meek hug. "I'm sorry I lied to you." he whispered. Joey merely nodded.
"Well?!" Lance demanded as Joey walked into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Looks like you're off the hook." Joey rubbed his eyes. "He's faking it."
The blonde exhaled in relief. His friend's anger was gone now, replaced by a sort of sadness Lance couldn't understand. "What did JC say?" he asked. Part of him felt sorry for JC; that was the part that still loved him, despite all this. Not only had Josh been fucked over by a friend of his, but now his own husband was lying to him.
Joey shook his head. "I didn't tell him. And you're gonna keep your mouth shut too." He raised a hand to silence the forthcoming protest. "You were right. Justin's totally messed up. If we start telling everyone..."
"Son of a bitch!" Lance exploded. "He got to you, didn't he? Dammit, Joey, can't you see how he's manupulating us?!"
"I guess we're slow learners." Joey shot back, instantly silencing his bandmate. "I'm not gonna punish him for kicking your ass. You had it coming. But I can't leave things the way they are either." He headed for the door again. "Does your laptop have a modem?"
Thrown off-guard by the irrelevant question, Lance stammered out an affirmative reply. Before he could ask why, though, Joey was already gone.
He came back a few minutes later with Lance's laptop under his arm. "Plug it in." he ordered, handing the computer over to the younger teen. Lance obeyed, setting the laptop down on the desk and plugging the phone's extension cord into the modem.
"Now go online, I want to send an e-mail."
A few seconds later, Lance's modem made some familiar squeaks and screeches, and the blonde stood, gesturing to the waiting screen. Joey immediately sat down and started typing, constantly shifting as to block Lance's view. When he was done, he logged off and shut the laptop down.
"Thanks." Joey said, and his voice died in his throat as he actually LOOKED at Lance. The younger teen was pale-faced (even moreso than usual), and his whole body was shaking. For the first time, Joey didn't see a manipulative snake out to destroy them, but a scared kid who'd screwed up. And that thought reminded him of another scrawny choir boy from Brooklyn, whose father never gave him a second chance when he made a mistake.
He sat back for a moment, feeling his muscles ache in protest. It had been a LONG day. "Look... I'm sorry for the stuff I said before. I'm just tired." He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned.
"It's okay." Lance mumbled. "I'll go." But as he turned to the door, Joey had a sudden flash of worry: What if Justin wasn't through with Lance?
"Hold up." Joey called, grabbing Lance's arm. "You should stay here. In case Justin wants to party again tonight. I can sleep on the floor."
The blonde looked very uncomfortable at the notion. "I don't think... I mean, you don't have to do that."
"It's no big deal."
And now there was a haunted look in Lance's eyes, a look of fear. Lance was afraid of him. "Isn't it?" he asked, meeting Joey's gaze. "Chris wouldn't do this for me. Why would you?"
Joey's face softened. "Look, you fucked up. You fucked up big-time. But... Jesus, Lance, don't we all?" He reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder softly.
The contact finally broke down the last of Lance's defenses, and he started to quake with barely-contained sobs. Joey held him close, stroking the back of his head and promising him that everything would turn out all right. And for the first time, Joey found himself believing that.
Lance was asleep minutes later, and Joey immediately headed to Justin's room. Regardless of what he'd promised, this had to stop before they ALL went nuts.
He didn't even bother to knock, instead choosing to barge into the room in typical Fatonesque style. Justin was lying face-up on his bed, listening to a CD on his discman. When he saw Joey and slid the earphones down, the older teen could hear Fred Durst snarling out the chorus to "Rollin'".
"It's growing on me." Justin explained with a crooked smile.
Joey slowly walked over to the bed and sat down next to Justin. "Can we talk?"
"Sure." Justin turned the music off and sat up. "How's Lance?"
Joey's eyebrows rose at that question. "Fine." he replied. "You really did a number on him."
The blonde shrugged, lips perking up in a shy grin; he looked so damned pleased to hear that. "It's not like he didn't deserve it."
Joey stared at his friend for a long moment. It unnerved him to see Justin so cold, so ruthless. There had to be SOMETHING in him that could trigger compassion, warmth... anything remotely human. "We can't do this, Justin. We can't keep lying."
Justin's eyes immediately turned to ice, and his voice flattened out, became dead and neutral. "In a few days, we won't have to."
The Italian's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"
That smug smirk again. "You'll see."
The couch wasn't all that comfortable, and the scenarios Joey's mind was conjuring up kept him up all night. Justin was planning something really bad, he knew it. He just didn't know what to DO about it. If he kept his mouth shut, JC and Lance would probably pay the price. But if he told the others what was going on, they'd confront Justin and he'd probably go over the edge.
So finally, he went back to his room. Lance was still fast asleep, and Joey didn't want to wake him him. As quietly as he could, Joey turned the laptop on and checked his e-mail. He couldn't help the deep breath he let out as a tiny voice said "You have mail".
It was brief, but to the point: "I'LL BE AT UNIVERSAL, 10:00."
Joey checked his watch. Almost nine. It'd take him an hour to get ready and drive there anyway. Snatching his car keys, Joey headed downstairs.
As he got into the car and started it up, he hoped he was doing the right thing. But he couldn't trust his own judgement, or turn to Chris or Lynn for advice. He needed a different perspective, and there weren't many people he could trust with the information.
But this was someone he trusted completely. Someone he knew could keep this secret. And with a little luck, someone who could tell him EXACTLY what to do to fix things.
Joey felt an odd twinge of deja vu as he stepped out of the car, shades and baseball cap in place, and walked through the gates of Universal Studios. Half a year ago, they'd brought a broken and battered Justin Timberlake here, in an attempt to break him out of his shell. And they'd done it.
Only six months. He hated when time snuck up on him like that, when he wasn't paying attention. He could blink and an entire lifetime would pass him by.
"You look like you're having pretty deep thoughts for a goof."
He spun around, surprised that she'd spotted him so easily, or that she'd actually snuck up on him. But he greeted her with a smile and a hug all the same.
Only a handful of people knew the truth about JC and Justin. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was stupidity, or people seeing what they wanted to see... but whatever it was, it worked well. The press was in the dark (which was a refreshing change, since they sometimes knew more about N'Sync than N'Sync), the fans didn't seem to care, and even their management was totally out of the loop. The only member of their staff who knew was their security guard Lonnie, after he'd caught Justin and JC making out in the back of the tour bus. But Lonnie was cool, he was on their side.
Outside the band and their families, they'd also confided in a few ex-members of the MMC, besides Britney and Christina. Keri had been particularly pleased, as the announcement ended a long-running bet between herself, Tony and Dale, resulting in Keri walking away with an extra hundred dollars.
But Rosie O'Donnell was different. Whereas everyone else had found out through JC and Justin, she had figured it out WAY before they decided to tell her. She was, of course, supportive to the nth degree, as friends often were. And Joey was counting on this friend to help him out.
"Let's go sit down." Joey suggested. Of all the showbiz people he'd met as a member of N'Sync, he liked Rosie most. She saw N'Sync as five individuals, not just a collective group. While fans often chose a favorite member and devoted their lives to him, Rosie had no favorites. She knew Lance wasn't much of a dancer, she knew the secret insecurities Chris and Joey had dealt with when it seemed the whole world cared only about JC and Justin, and she'd kept their confidence.
"So... I get an e-mail saying you've got a big problem, only you can't tell me what it is. You want to see me, but you can't leave Florida. What's going on?" she asked.
Joey took a deep breath, pausing to organize his thoughts. And then he told her everything: Jack Matthews, Lance's betrayal, Justin's deception. With each phase of the story, Rosie's eyes grew wider and wider, and Joey realized just how horrific it sounded. They'd survived a LOT. That thought gave him some small degree of hope.
When he was finished, they sat in silence for a while, listening to the children play and adults laugh aloud as they rode rollercoasters and spinning teacups. It was a reminder that life would continue regardless of their suffering, and somehow that comforted Joey as well.
"Wow." the talk show host finally breathed, brushing her dark locks behind her shoulders. "I can't believe you guys kept all this under wraps."
"Chris and Britney." Joey smiled softly. "N'Sync damage control."
Rosie fell silent again, clearly thinking of a way to help them. After a few minutes, a soft smile rose on her lips. "Okay... okay, I have an idea." She opened her purse and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Joey.
"Those are the keys to my beach house in Miami. No one's around this time of year." she explained. "Take Justin and crash there for a while."
"Huh?" Joey uttered as he stared at the keys.
"So it's not original. I do talk shows, not Psych 101." she shrugged. "But the way I see it, you ALL need some down time. Take him on vacation, let him get away from whatever's bothering him."
Before she could get another word out, her cell phone rang. Taking it out and flipping it open in one smooth move, she pressed it to her ear. "Yeah?" she prompted in a New York accent that made Joey grin. "Okay, hold on a sec." She placed her hand on the mouthpiece. "Business call. You gonna be okay?"
Joey nodded, sliding the keys into his pocket. "Yeah. Yeah, I think everything's gonna turn out fine."
And surprisingly, he believed it this time.
"Say that again?" Justin stammered, looking at his bandmate like he'd just grown a second head.
Joey dangled the keys in the air. "You heard me." he said. "Pack a bag, we're going to Miami. You and me."
"But... but..."
"Exactly. Nice tanned butts with nice tanned babes attached to them. The only butt I've seen this month was Chris', and I couldn't get it up all day after that. So I'm going. And I want you to come with me."
Justin paused, replaying those words in his mind. I WANT you to come. Joey was giving him a chance to say no. He had no intention of forcing the issue; if Justin wanted to stay, he'd stay.
It felt strange, having a choice. Despite the fact that he was almost twenty, Justin had never been in complete control of his life. Everyone from the MMC producers to Lou Pearlman to his own boyfriends had always imposed their will on him, making his decisions for him. But Joey had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to push. Whatever happened now was solely Justin's choice.
And he made that choice with a whole heart, as a smile began to spread across his face. "Okay, I'm in." he whispered.
Joey let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Great. Get some stuff together and meet me downstairs."
And then he was gone, and Justin was alone. For a long moment, the blonde looked around, completely unsure of what to do next. This was the last thing he could have expected, to suddenly have a chance to get away from everything and think straight, without constant reminders of what he'd been through.
He immediately began to do as Joey instructed, searching for things he'd need on this impromptu trip. He tried not to think about it, wanting so badly to just be in the moment and react instead of planning ahead. He tore into his closet, discarding silk shirts and stylish leather pants in favor of ripped T-shirts and jeans that were cut off at the thighs.
"You should take a jacket." a soft voice said from behind him. Justin whirled around and saw his mother standing at the door. He felt his cheeks burn with shame; he would have left without saying goodbye, without explaining why he'd lied to her.
"Mom..." he began, but Lynn placed a finger on his lips.
"It's okay." she said softly. "I know."
Justin's eyes widened. "You... you know?"
His mother smiled, just a bit. "Baby, you know how proud I am of you. You know I think you're the best dancer and singer in the world. But your acting needs work."
Astonished, the teen took an involuntary step back as Lynn continued to explain. "I called Amy Harper for a reason, honey. She knew what you were doing, but she could also see how hard you were trying." Lynn sighed deeply. "She told me this was your way of coping, stalling for time. And I respect that, Justin, you have to do what's best for you. I just... I don't approve of keeping secrets, especially in a relationship."
Justin nodded in understanding. That was one of the main reasons why his parents' marriage had fallen apart. He knew his mother was only looking out for him, but the truth was he had no idea what he was doing. Ever since he snapped out of his coma, he'd been stalling for something. First the whole amnesia cherade, then framing Lance, then making Joey promise to keep his mouth shut. He was buying time, but he didn't know why.
Maybe he'd figure it out in Miami.
"Justin?" his mother prompted. She held a leather jacket in her hands. "Your favorite."
The blonde smiled gratefully at his mother, folding the jacket and stuffing it in his suitcase. "I guess that's it." he announced, looking around him.
Lynn seemed surprised. "So you're going to leave right now?" she asked.
"I guess so. No point in dragging it out." His head was whirling; after all the planning and fanfare that usually accompanied any decision to go ANYWHERE, to just get up and leave, just like that... had Joey always been so spontaneous? And why hadn't Justin noticed it before?
She hugged him suddenly, tightly, unwilling to let go. "Ease up, Mom." Justin mumbled. "It's just a vacation. I'll be back."
They parted, and Lynn held her son at arm's length, locking her eyes with his. "If you're having any problems, I want you to call me. I won't tell anyone."
Justin nodded. "Sure." He kissed his mother on the cheek, and then, before he could consider hesitating, he walked out of his room.
Joey was waiting for him downstairs, baseball cap swiveled backwards, a backpack slung around one shoulder. He was looking around, on alert in case one of his bandmates showed up and asked him where the hell he thought he was going. Lance couldn't be trusted, Chris would insist on coming along, and JC... he wouldn't let Justin go. Joey had promised Justin it would be just them, and he was a man of his word.
Justin joined him a moment later, looking more alive than he had in weeks. "Let's move." the blonde said.
"We're outta here." Joey agreed, opening the door.
Neither of them looked back as they left.
Lynn watched until Joey's car disappeared around the corner, and she shut the window. She wasn't at all sure this was a good idea, but she'd reached the point where she'd listen to any suggestion that offered some hope. Her son was fighting something, a bodiless and nameless enemy that wanted to destroy him. But she couldn't help wondering if he could beat it alone. He had friends, good friends who cared about him like he was family.
As she stepped out of Justin's room, she heard the shower running, and a faint voice singing. Lynn bit her lip slightly. Poor Joshua. The things she'd said to him... he hadn't deserved any of it. He loved Justin with all his heart. And even if he HAD made mistakes, wasn't that what a marriage was all about? Making mistakes and learning from them?
But she hadn't learned from her own mistakes. And that had resulted in months of ugly fighting, and an even uglier divorce. She couldn't let Justin go through something like that.
So for his sake, she would play along with his games. For now. She would keep the truth from them. She would lie to the man who'd become a second son to her, and friends who would sacrifice everything to make him happy.
She would do all this, and pray for forgiveness later.
As they sat on cold plastic seats, waiting for the Greyhound to come in, Justin felt his head swirl with adrenaline, his knes shake with anticipation. He couldn't believe he was really doing this, that he was actually going to take off like this. He'd never have the guts to do this on his own.
But Joey's presence was having a calming effect on him. Just being with him gave Justin some kind of weird reassurance that everything would be okay. The taller teen looked totally unconcerned; He'd tucked his ticket into his pants and was looking around the station, occasionally meeting some girl's gaze and wordlessly flirting with her. There was some upbeat dance song playing over the speakers, and Justin could just barely make out the words.
"Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue Thought I heard you talking softly I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio Still I can't escape the ghost of you..."
He couldn't believe he was doing this with JOEY. The party guy. The freak. The member of N'Sync most likely to cause a scandal. And yet here he was, following this dancing fool into the unknown. Just the two of them, nothing stopping them from doing whatever they wanted. It felt weird. It felt... good.
"What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away..."
"Hey, that's our ride." Joey announced, looking up at the ceiling. He stood, winking at one of the younger women behind the counter. She smiled widely at him, clearly under the influence of the Fatone charms.
They climbed aboard the bus moments later and took their seats. Joey laughed as Justin ducked past him, snatching the window seat; it was a game they'd played all too often in happier days. Sitting next to his friend, Joey leaned back and closed his eyes, content to take a little nap.
The windowpane was cool against Justin's forehead as the blonde stared at the familiar landscape. His home. The only home he could really remember. So many memories, so much of his past and his very identity was here. And he was walking away from it all.
"But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive..."
Justin's smile faded softly. Yes, he was walking away. But all of his problems would still be here when he got back. It was too late to have second thoughts, but he couldn't stop himself. This joyride, this crazy getaway... what would it accomplish? Maybe it would let him forget, just for a little while... and then what? What would he do?
"Passion or coincidence Once prompted you to say Pride will tear us both apart Well now pride's gone out the window Cross the rooftops, run away Left me in the vacuum of my heart..."
Scary, huh? The way change just sneaks up on you.
Justin's eyes focused on the window itself, not the view beyond it, and he stifled a moan of despair. There, reflected in the glass, was the blurry and faded image of a young man. A very attractive man with black hair and eyes.
A dead man.
You wake up one day and realize nothing is the same anymore. Your life is wrecked and you don't even know it.
Justin refused to say anything, shutting his eyes tightly. Even from beyond the grave, Jack Matthews continued to hound him. It was an illusion, he knew; a figment of his overstressed imagination. Not flesh and blood, and certainly not a ghost. Jack couldn't hurt him anymore.
And there was that harsh laugh again, the one that always gave him chills. Another one of your official beliefs, huh? Jack's voice was cold and sneering, as it had always been in those final days. Right up there with "I have a perfect life" and "Everything is under control". Who are you kidding, Just?
Justin clamped his hands on his ears, biting his lip to keep from screaming. But as hard as he pressed down, he couldn't block out the disembodied taunts.
Look at you. All burned out. You're losing your husband, your career, your looks, your sanity... pretty soon even your mom'll get sick of you. Some perfect life.
"Hey." A touch on his shoulder, and Justin's eyes shot open. For one horrifying moment, he believed he'd done the impossible, made his nightmare lover real again. But it was only Joey, looking at him with a concerned expression. "You all right?"
"What is happening to me? Crazy, some'd say Where is my friend when I need you most? Gone away..."
Justin turned his gaze back to the window, but the glass was clear, and the only thoughts in his mind were his own.
"I'm fine." he whispered, leaning his forehead against the window and closing his eyes again. "Fine."
The bus began to move.
"But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive..."
To be continued...
Afterword:
Hi, everyone! First of all, let me apologize once again for being so late. Anyway, I've recently discovered that my work was plagarized by an anonymous writer, and needless to say, I was NOT amused. I appreciate that she liked it enough to try and imitate it, but this was blatant thievery.
From what I've seen, this girl has a number of e-mail addresses. The one I've been able to verify is silver_rose102@hotmail.com. Any submissions from this address should be viewed both by readers and writers with EXTREME prejudice, as she is likely to "borrowed" material from other writers as well.
The following is "Forgotten", which she recently removed from her "Boys Don't Cry" website (and she has also apparently taken the entire site off-line). Readers familiar with my stories will easily see the impossible resemblence. I refuse to allow someone else to take credit for something I worked on, and neither should any other writer.
Forgotten
Justin stared at the picture, his face contorting with grief. "No." He hissed.
Lance smiled. "Why not? Why don't you accept it?"
"NO." Justin repeated. He raised his watery blue eyes to Lance. "I don't believe it."
Lance waved the picture in Justin's face, green eyes bright with triumph. "Look, Justin. Just look how happy we are."
"I'll kill you!" Justin suddenly screamed, struggling with the handcuffs that bound him to the old, broken radiator. "I'll f-cking kill you!"
Lance danced backwards, laughing at his once-friend. "I'm sure you will." He said pleasantly. "Once you get out of those." He gestured at the handcuffs, then pulled a key out of his pocket. "Looking for this, Curly?"
"You bastard." Justin shouted. "You sick bastard." He lunged for Lance, pulling the radiator with him.
"Justin! Stop!" A voice broke through the fight. Justin backed off. The new man continued. "What did he say, Justin?"
"He said.. he said..." Justin gasped, voice broken. "No. I won't believe it."
"Give me the key, Lance." The man said. Lance didn't move. "I said give it to me, Lance." He whispered, voice low and dangerous.
Lance handed him the key.
Justin watched in surprise as the man unlocked his handcuffs. He was free. Rubbing his wrists, he stumbled to his feet and nodded thanks to the man. The man shrugged. Justin walked slowly towards Lance. Inches away from the older blonde's face, he hissed, "I'll kill you. I swear to God, I'll kill you. And then.. and then I'll kill him."
Lance flinched, looked away.
"No, Justin." The man said calmly. He drew a gun from his waistband. "You don't have to. I'll do it for you."
Lance-
Lance sat straight up in his bed, gasping for air. His side hurt with a dull, throbbing ache. Relax, Lance. He told himself. It was just a dream. It's over now. It's over.
He lay back down and turned on his side, slowly slipping back into the realm of sleep.
Lance sat down on the court, chest heaving. "Looks like you still remember how to play." He said, smiling tentatively at his friend.
"I remember a lot of things." Justin smiled brightly at him.
Lance felt sick. This person, this person had once been his friend. He had betrayed Justin, had lied to him. But Justin didn't remember it. Guilt lay heavily on his soul- he looked at Justin, and found no blame in those wide blue eyes. Justin was innocent, Justin trusted him. He, who didn't deserve his trust.
"Lance?" Justin sat down beside him. "When I look at JC, I feel.. mad. Do you know why?"
Lance's heart quickened. "You were in love." He said quietly, refusing to look at him.
"You know, I think he hurt me." Justin tilted his head. "I think he cheated on me. Maybe with a... a blonde." Justin smiled. "I think JC likes blondes. This blonde... she was always with him. She was always with me. I think I thought she was my friend. I think I trusted her." Justin looked at Lance, widening his blue eyes. "This blonde... her eyes... her eyes were green. I think." Justin smiled again.
"I... uh... don't know what you're talking about." Lance rasped. His palms were sweaty.
"She was always lurking... always there... I think this blonde was a liar. A good-for-nothing, lying two-dollar-wh0re." Justin's voice dropped. "Do you know any good-for-nothing, lying two-dollar-whores, who have blonde hair and green eyes, and sleep with their best friend's husband?"
Lance raised his eyes to Justin's and was shocked at what he found there. Gone was the innocence, the trusting. In their place was hatred, a rage so terrible that it made Lance jerk away from the boy. "You lying son of a b!tch." He whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You knew all the time. You don't have amnesia."
Justin laughed, his voice cracking. "And you bought it! All of you, all of you stupid idiots bought it." He brought his face close to Lance. "I told you I'd kill you, Lance." He murmured, blue eyes dark with fury.
"I'd like to see you try." Lance sneered, getting to his feet, leaving Justin on the basketball court. He hoped Justin wouldn't call his bluff, would let him walk into the house unharmed.
Justin's voice was his only warning. "How's this for starters, Scoop?" It asked.
A baseball bat slammed into the side of Lance's head.
Lance's eyes flew open and he bit back a scream. It wasn't possible. Justin had amnesia, Justin didn't remember... Jusin didn't remember anything. It was impossible. Justin wasn't that good of an actor. He checked the clock. JC would be coming over to pick him up, drive him to the Harliss residence, where they'd be staying for a week.
Lance shivered in spite of himself. It simply couldn't be. Justin had an amnesia; and anyway, it was Justin, right? Justin wouldn't hurt a fly.
He stood, throwing the sweat-soaked sheets off his body. He needed a shower.
It was just a dream, Lance. He reminded himself. Just a stupid dream.
"I had this dream-" Lance began, trying to get conversation in the jeep.
He glanced into the mirror and saw Joey shooting him death glares from the passenger seat. Lance bit his lip and glanced over at Chris, who was looking out the window with a practiced look of concentration.
Chris shifted, looked at Lance.
Lance felt his heart catch in his mouth. There was hatred there, pure, uncontrolled hatred. For him.
JC drove silently, hands clutching the steering wheel. His knucles were white.
Lance bit his cheek and ordered himself not to cry. These were his friends, these were his brothers. And they all hated him.
"Maybe I shouldn't go." Lance said finally.
Chris' fingers clutched at Lance's arm painfully. "Oh, you'll go." Chris hissed menacingly. "I may hate you, we all may hate you, but we will stand you being in our presence for Justin."
"For Justin only." Joey affirmed. "But if you put one step out of line, if you even-"
"Joey." JC said quietly.
Joey shut up.
Lance closed his eyes, wished he could say how much he loved the guys, could tell them how much they meant to him. But he stayed silent.
Lance leaned against Justin's doorframe, watched his former best-friends and his present bandmates say goodnight to Justin. He couldn't bring himself to go into the room.
The dream still haunted his mind. He'd had dreams come true before. What if this one did?
"Say goodnight." Joey muttered into his ear as he left.
Lance slowly walked up to his friend. "Um... 'night, Curly." He said hesitantly.
Justin flashed him a wide, innocent grin. "Goodnight!" He said cheerfully.
Lance left the room, heart pounding. Justin couldn't be acting. He simply couldn't.
"I'm going to turn the light off, okay sweetie?" Lynn said.
Justin nodded absently as the room plunged into darkness. Lynn closed the door.
Justin remained by the open window, gazing sightlessly into the garden below.
He heard Lance getting into bed on the other side of the wall.
A dark smirk twisted at the corners of Justin's mouth, hatred disfiguring the once-handsome face. The innocence seeped from him like spilled wine.
He opened his mouth, whispered the words Lance would pray he had heard.
"Goodnight... Scoop."