My Surprise Romance

Hi everyone!

Well, it's been a few days, eh....I finally blew a fuse and hit writers block--it was bound to happen, right? I've kinda jumped over that hurdle and here it is--the new installment--and I'm warning you, it moves a bit slow--so if it's not as entertaining as the rest, I'm sorry and I promise the next one will be better. So read it and tell me what you think of it at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com

Now, here's where it gets long because I have a few people I want to thank because it just wouldn't be right if I didn't :) First off, Damon and Matt for mailing me after each installment--you wouldn't believe how much it encourages me.; Cele, for being the awesome chica she is :), Clarke and Kheim--thank you for just writing to me. I'm so glad I got to know both of you better--you're both special people :); Now, I normally don't play 'critic', but after you read my story, please go read "We Admitted it" (by Saint Wurk) and "A Little Bit of Love" (by John)--both are great stories written by incredibly wonderful people, who I'm happy to know. And of course, last but not least, Justin--who looks over each installment that I write, and is just a extraordinary, tremendous person....whew, that was long. Sorry if I've bored any of you's...and now...

DISCLAIMER: You basically know the drill people: older than 18/21; not meant to imply the sexuality of 'N Sync or Lance Bass or Justin Timberlake, don't like it? Don't read.

My Surprise Romance

Chapter 23

Shorty after I gave him his cross back, Lance had peacefully fallen asleep, and without any complaints, Dr. Winters allowed me to spend the entire night in his room. Something in her eyes told me that she had been in my situation before, but I was too exhausted (both physically and mentally) to question it. I wound up sitting in a uncomfortable, high-backed chair and as silly as it sounds, I watched Lance sleep. As I stared at his tranquil face, I couldn't help but cry as the projector in my mind replayed his fall over and over again. I kept thinking of different outcomes--what if he had died in front of my eyes or had become paralyzed? And then reality would sink in and the voice in my head would say, `He's okay...he's fine...don't think about that...'

Around twelve-thirty, there was a soft knock on the door that separated us from the rest of the hospital. My mind jolted out of its thoughts as I walked to it and peeked through the plexiglass rectangular window. Through it, I saw Josh, Cynthia and Chris standing there and I opened the door to let them in.

"Hi," Cynthia said softly, once she noticed that Lance was sleeping. "We came to see if everything was okay." I looked at my cousin to see her black dress covered in what appeared to the remains of raw eggs.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked her, staring at her once-elegant dress in shock. Cynthia shook her head in disbelief, her blonde hair swishing around her head.

"There are some drawbacks to having a boyfriend in `N Sync and having the entire world know about it," she said, visibly upset. "One of them happens to be twelve year old girls who hate you so much they'll throw anything at you. Eggs are no exception,"she sighed, looking down at her ruined dress. "Nice, huh?" she asked, looking back up at me. Josh slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I'll get you a new one," Josh promised Cynthia, giving her a kiss to back it up causing Chris to suddenly clear his throat.

"Guys?" he asked softly, nodding towards Lance, who sleeping peacefully. Cynthia placed her hand over her mouth.

"Sorry," she mouthed. I smiled and nodded my head, signaling for the four of us to go outside. Once we were out of the room, I closed the door behind me, so we wouldn't bother Lance with the hallway's bright fluorescent lights.

"How is he?" Chris spoke up, a worried expression on his usually cheerful face. "We got here as soon as we could."

"Lance is fine...he's good. Just a concussion and a bruised arm," I told them. All three of them sighed with relief at my news.

"Thank God," Josh said, a smile appearing on his face. "We just imagined the worse but we had to keep the concert going."

"Yeah," Chris chimed in. "Marshall wouldn't let us just walk away, so we had to finish the rest of the show. That man is insane--nothing but work, work, work," he complained, before stopping himself. "Sorry--just had to vent there," he apologized, letting out a exhausted breath.

"Don't worry. It's been a crazy night," I said, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted from the darkness of Lance's room to the emergency room's bright lights.

Josh looked at me with disbelief in his eyes. "You're telling us--you should see the scene outside of the hospital, man. There has to be a hundred girls out there trying to get in to see Lance." A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips. "They have flowers and everything with them. That's when they got Cynthia with the eggs--they came prepared."

I shook my head at the thought of the adoring fans outside. Dr. Winters was right, I thought with amazement. I couldn't believe that people had nothing better to do with their lives--couldn't they just leave Lance alone?

No,' the voice in my head told me. That's what comes with being a celebrity. Look at Cynthia--my poor cousin was egged just because she was dating a member of a pop band that millions of girls were in love with.' These obvious problems once again nailed the fact that there was no way that Lance and I would ever become a normal couple.

"Oh, hey Stephen, I got something to tell you," Chris said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "Marshall wasn't too happy when you and Lance were holding hands on the stage. He was really pissed about it--he kept saying that the paramedics were cracking jokes about you two being in love, or something like that. And then he went off about `keeping up appearances.'" Chris ran a hand through his black hair, a troubled look on his face. "I don't understand why he had to tell us that--I mean he didn't even care that Lance was hurt."

"That man has no heart sometimes," Josh commented with a disgusted look on his face. "Remember when his mother died and he didn't even go to her funeral because of `business concerns'?" he asked Chris, quoting the words with his fingers.

My head began to pound upon hearing their conversation, as I turned away from them and headed back into Lance's room and closed the door behind me. I resumed my place on the chair from hell and a few seconds later, the door reopened and Cynthia poked her head into the room.

"Need someone to talk to?" she whispered quietly when she noticed my weary face. I nodded as she crept over to me and took a seat on the floor. For a few seconds we sat there, watching Lance sleep, as his chest rose rhythmically up and down as he breathed. The machine that he was hooked up to let out an occasional beep as it monitored his vital signs.

"You okay, Stevie?" Cynthia finally asked. I nodded, unable to speak. She looked back over at me, only to see that I was crying once again--I couldn't help it, I thought as she stood up and wrapped her arms around me.

"What's wrong?" she asked, slowly rubbing my back. "Why are you crying? Lance is okay, sweetie," she said in a soothing voice, while rocking me in her arms. I was so glad that she was there with me. When I was able to speak again, I pulled myself gently out of her grip and looked at her.

"It's what the guys said," I managed to whisper. "I'm going to kill Lance's career. I don't want to do that to him--I mean, the paramedics were making fun of us..." I trailed off, not sure what to say next.

Cynthia stared at me for a few seconds. "Stevie...Lance wanted you to come with him, remember?" I nodded as she continued. "And if he was so concerned about his career, do you think he would have grabbed on to your hand? He wouldn't have--he wanted you here with him--no one else. He asked for you to specifically come here with him, Stevie. No one else. You."

I smiled at her gentle, honest words. No one else but my cousin could have put my heart at ease like that. "You know Cynth, I really thought I lost him tonight," I gently said as she took a seat on my lap.

"I know...I've never seen such a crazy expression on your face before," Cynthia confessed as we continued to watch Lance sleep. "Do you know that you nearly punched out that guard that tried to hold you back?"

"Really?" I said in complete surprise. "I don't remember doing that."

She let out a soft laugh, so that Lance wouldn't wake up. "Stevie--one second you were next to me, the next second you were up on stage with Lance. I've never seen you move so fast." She shook her head in amazement and then turned back to me. "You really care about him, don't you?"

I nodded seriously, as I thought about what she said. "Yeah." I paused as my overwhelming feelings for Lance managed to embarrass me. "Cynthia, I love him--I really do," I admitted, my face turning a bright red. My cousin let out low whistle at my solemn remark.

"That's serious," she said, her violet eyes round with shock. "Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure in my life," I told her firmly. "And tonight just confirmed it." Cynthia smiled at the intensity of my words and then leaned her head against my chest.

"You know, I'm glad that you have him, Stevie," Cynthia whispered with a happy smile on her face, "I really am." I smiled back at my cousin with a mixture of relief and happiness at her words. Only she could understand me so well, I thought, feeling a bit like a traitor towards Lance. I mean, shouldn't he be the one who understood me the most and not my cousin? Still, I knew that there were things he didn't know about me yet.

I finally answered my cousin's remark as simply as I could. "So am I, Cynth...so am I."

Cynthia and the guys left about fifteen minutes later, but not before saying silent goodbyes to Lance. I stayed behind, keeping my overnight vigil at Lance's bedside since I wanted to be there for him when he woke up. The only problem with my plan was that I had forgotten I would eventually have to fall asleep. I must have dozed off sometime after four-thirty, because when I opened my eyes, sunlight was streaming through the white blinds and directly into my eyes.

"How did I fall in love with someone who has that expression when he wakes up?" I heard a voice said teasingly. I whipped my head up to see Lance sitting in bed in an upright position, an over the bed table over his lap, with a tray of breakfast food on top of it. Slowly, I stretched my arms and legs out, praying that my joints wouldn't cramp up.

"And good morning to you to, Lance," I shot back after I managed to stand on my feet. I gave him a grin, despite the pain that lingered throughout my arms and legs. I was so happy to see that Lance was okay, although some pretty nasty bruises were beginning to form on his right arm. "How are you?" I asked, walking next to him and giving him a good morning kiss.

"Fine," he said after our lips left each others. "My head hurts a little, but besides that, I think I'm okay. I wish there was a way you could check though," he said suggestively, raising his eyebrows.

I groaned at his remark. "Nothing stops you, does it? You could have died last night, and your mind is still in the gutter," I laughed, relieved that Lance was acting like his usual self.

"Hey...nothing stops me," Lance said with a giggle. "You should know that already--all my limbs could be broken and I'd still be wondering how I could get you into bed." I blushed at his remark, which caused him to laugh even harder. "Am I embarrassing you, Stephen?" he asked me, his grin growing even broader as he pulled my shirt and brought me closer to him.

"Yes," I admitted, a bit abashed by Lance's behavior. I mean, we were in a hospital for God's sake. But despite my uptight thoughts, I passionately kissed Lance for the second time this morning, feelings of guilt running throughout me. `You should be happy that he's acting like normal,' I scolded myself.

Just as we parted, someone knocked on the door. I jerked myself away from Lance, who looked at me in surprise as I nearly fell over my own two feet. "Yes?" I called out, attempting to control my ragged breathing.

"It's Doctor Winters--may I come in?" She called through the door. I smiled at her politeness and looked at Lance for his okay. He nodded at me and called out, "Sure, come on in."

The door opened and Dr. Winters entered the room, giving us a bright smile. "Good morning, Lance...Stephen," she greeted us as she walked over to Lance's bedside. "How are we doing this morning?"

"Just fine, doctor," Lance told her with a smile on his lips. "I think I'm ready to go now," he said eagerly.

She laughed at his remark. "I can see someone doesn't like the hospital," she teased him as she picked up his wrist and felt for a pulse. Dr. Winters then pulled a small penlight out of her jacket and flashed it in his green eyes, making sure the pupils were correctly responding to the light. "Well, your concussion is gone--that's good. But your arm...dear, I'm afraid that you might not be able to move it in the manner that you're used to for a couple of days."

Lance's face went pale. "But I have a concert tonight," he explained. "And I have to perform the routines and stuff."

The doctor looked at Lance as though he had gone crazy. "Not if you want your arm to feel better--I suggest that you try not to use it for the next couple of days, dear," she said lightly, adjusting her glasses. This caused Lance looked at her as though she was the one who had gone insane.

"But you don't understand," he began to protest. "I have to--" Dr. Winters held up her hand.

"Uh, uh, uh--before you complain, I think you talk to the person that's here to see you first," she said mysteriously. Lance and I looked at each other, confusion flashing in our eyes.

"Is it one of the guys? Britney?" Lance thought out loud, thinking about anyone that we had encountered in the past few days. Dr. Winters shook her head and walked back to the door. She opened it and stuck her head in the hallway. I heard her say, "You can come in now," and before I knew it, a brunette woman rushed into the room. I looked back at Lance, whose face had turned white at the sight of the visitor.

"Mom?" he said shakily, giving me one last nervous glance before his mother engulfed him in a hug.

"Oh I was so worried about you--I took the first flight out after Marshall called me," she said, still holding on to her son for dear life as though he was dying or something. Somehow, Lance managed to look at me over his mother's shoulder, a look of pure panic on his handsome face.

"Mom, I'm okay," I heard him say. "I'm fine, really. The doctors would know if something was wrong." He pulled away from her death grip and gave her a nervous smile. "I'm fine,' he repeated, as though he was trying to convince himself.

"Honey, I'm your mother," she said, a relieved look on her face. "It wouldn't be right if I didn't worry." She grabbed his hand and then, realizing that someone else was in the room, she turned to me standing next to her son's bed and a look of confusion crossed her face.

"Who are you?" she asked rather bluntly in her slightly heavy Southern twang. I saw Lance close his eyes as the question left her mouth. Who was I? Good question, I thought as I racked my brain trying to come up with a good answer. I was not going to say, `I'm Lance's boyfriend--oh, wait--you didn't know your son was gay? Whoops, my bad--sorry.' Give me some credit here people.

"I work for the band," I heard my voice explain. I quickly glanced at my boyfriend, who had opened his eyes and gave me a nod of approval. "I was the only one able to come with him to the hospital last night since the guys went on with the show," I continued. "My name is Stephen," I said, politely extending my hand out.

"I'm Diane, his mother," she introduced herself, a wide grin replacing the confused look. "Thank you so much for coming here with my boy last night," she said gratefully, shaking my hand. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Oh, it was no problem," I said, modestly brushing her compliment off. "I didn't mind it at all." Lance continued to stare at me, his eyes shining with pride at how well-mannered I was coming across. I gave him a smile as I began to head towards the door. "Um, if you excuse me, I'm going to head back to the hotel now," I said hastily.

"Stephen! You don't have to leave!" Lance exclaimed as I placed my hand on the doorknob. His mother looked at him, surprised by his sudden frantic outburst. And I couldn't blame her--what did it matter that I was leaving, right? I knew that Lance was freaking out (to put it gently) about being left alone with his mother.

"I'll be back later on," I promised him, not wanting to wear out my welcome or rouse suspicion in his mother. I knew that Diane wasn't aware about her son's sexuality yet, and if I stayed any longer she might have put two and two together and figured out that her only son was romantically attached to another man. That wasn't the right way to find out, I thought, although it had to be better than the way my mother found out. I trusted that Lance would tell his mother when the time was right--which was definitely not now. "I'll come back later on with some of the guys."

"Promise?" Lance asked anxiously, fear lurking in his green eyes. His mother shot him another strange look at her son's nervous demeanor.

"Promise," I said, crossing my heart as I left the room. I felt bad that I couldn't have given him any sort of good-bye kiss...but that's how life goes, I thought as I closed the door behind me. I started to walk down the hallway towards the exit, when I heard a voice call out my name.

"Stephen? May I speak with you for a second?" I turned back around to see Dr. Winters standing behind me, wringing her hands together.

"Yeah, sure," I said, walking back towards her. "What is it?" Like the previous night, she beckoned me into an empty room and shut the door behind her. When Dr. Winters turned back towards me, a solemn look replaced the joyful one she had worn that morning. I felt a bit nervous and suspicious at her disposition, but still kept the wan smile plastered on my face.

"Stephen," she began softly. "I want you to know why I let you stay overnight...I could have lost my job because of that, but..." she trailed off, letting out a sad, slight laugh while her eyes grew dark with thought. I narrowed my eyes at her, not sure what kind of point she was trying to make. She pulled a chair from the corner and took a seat across from me, not meeting my eyes at first. Wordlessly, she pulled a wallet insert filled with photos out of her jacket, flipped to one in the middle and held it out towards me. I looked at her inquisitively, and took the photos from her. When my eyes skimmed over the picture, I damn near died.

"Who is this?" I asked, barely able to speak. Dr. Winters eyes clouded over with tears as I continued to stare at the photo. The smiling teenager looked exactly like Lance, except with dark brown hair instead of the blonde I had come to love.

"That's my son," she said simply, attempting not to let the tears spill from her eyes. "His name was Brandon...and he just reminded me so much of Lance that I couldn't help but share this with you." Dr. Winters' eyes met mine. "He was gay...like you and Lance are...and when he told me he was--" She paused, taking a deep breath. "I turned him away."

A funny feeling fell over me. `Kind of like my mother', I thought sadly although I didn't say this. To be honest with you, I didn't know what to say to the Doctor. She didn't notice my hesitancy, instead choosing to continue on with her story.

"I've never really talked to anyone about this before--you see, Brandon died about two years ago, with his boyfriend in a tragic car accident. My husband and I were divorced the previous year and Brandon was my only child." She rested her hands in her lap and stared at them. "I don't know why I'm telling you this--you probably think I'm a silly old woman, but I think what I have to tell you is important."

"No, no," I said, reaching out to touch her arm. "Please go on." Dr. Winters gave me a small smile, and let out a sigh of relief.

"When I saw you and Lance together last night..I was overcome by how much you two cared for each other. I could tell by the way you looked at each other," she said softly. "And it made me wonder how I could have treated my only son like that--I regret it terribly now, since I never had the chance to say goodbye to him." The doctor shook her head, the tears falling from her eyes fast and furiously now. "See, letting you stay last night was kind of like a chance at redemption for me--in a strange sort of way. I didn't care if I was fired for it--I just wanted the chance for two people to be happy...kind of like how I denied my son the happiness that he deserved." She looked up at me, her eyes begging to be understood. "I look back now and wonder how I could have done that...to my only son."

Listening to the Doctor speak about her personal hell was tearing me apart inside. It just made me think of my mother even more. And of Lance's mother. What if she responded the same way to our relationship, in the manner my mother did? `What do we do now?', I thought.

The doctor reached out and touched my arm. "I guess what I'm trying to say is to take care of each other. Don't break up because of other people or because of what they say," she explained softly. "My Brandon lied to me the night he died--they were sneaking around behind my back so I wouldn't find out. I'm still not sure what happened--and I don't think I ever will, but that's how they died in the car accident." The doctor wiped her eyes. "I keep telling myself that if I had let them see each other freely, they would still be around today."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, blushing at my lame display of affection. "I know it doesn't help, but I really am." She smiled at me.

"No, I understand--I'm sorry I've held you up like this, but I felt I had to tell you--especially when I saw his mother--and judging from Lance's reaction when his mother came in, I presume she doesn't know about you two?"

I shook my head. "No, Doctor--she doesn't. I'm hoping Lance will be able to break it to her soon though," I said. Dr. Winter's placed her hand over mine.

"I wish you both the best of luck--and don't worry, I'm not going to go to any newspapers about you two." We stood up from our chairs then and on impulse, I leaned over and hugged the Doctor.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for your advice, Dr. Winters."

She pulled away from me, and gave me a sad smile. "It's not a problem--just please, take care of each other, okay?" Giving me one last smile, Dr. Winters then headed out of the room and back into the hallway. I never saw her again.

Chapter 24

Once I had gotten over my encounter with the Doctor, I headed to the pay phone in the waiting room to call a taxi. What greeted me was pure madness--there had to be at least sixty teenage girls in varying states of distress in the waiting room. And suspiciously enough, for such sick girls, all of them were dressed to the nines, their hair perfectly done and `N Sync merchandise in their hands. I shook my head at their twisted logic and waited outside for my taxi. Once I was outside, I moved away from the ambulance entrance and walked towards the back of the building. I really wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and when I did realize where I was, I saw a expensive hunter green car with tinted windows parked next to the a back door. There was a bodyguard standing next to the car, whose passenger side door was open. When he saw me approaching, he held his palm up to stop me.

"Excuse me, sir--you can't go past this point," he announced out loud. And then I heard someone speak from inside the car.

"Gerald, no it's okay, I know him." Suddenly a blonde head popped up from inside the car. To my surprise, Britney jumped out and began walking over to me.

"Stephen!" she exclaimed, wrapping me in a hug. "How's Lance doing? Justin called me last night after the concert and told me what happened."

"Lance is fine," I told her. "He just had a concussion and his arm is pretty banged up--not broken, just bruised and stuff," I said, suddenly feeling exhausted from the events of the past twenty-four hours. "How come you're out here and not inside visiting?" I asked her curiously. Britney rolled her brown eyes heavenwards, and shook her head.

"Justin is inside with Lance," she said in a low voice. "And Harris is in the car. He told me to stay out here in case anyone we know sees us. That way if anyone does see, I can say that Harris is with me and not Justin." Her pretty face twisted into a disgusted look. "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?"

"I thought you said that you liked Harris," I said, scratching my head. Words were not making sense to me at that moment. I just wanted to go back to the hotel, shower, shave and then take a nap--on a bed and not in some chair that made me spasm in pain.

"Oh I do!" Britney exclaimed. "I love him--it's just that this whole `hiding' thing is ridiculous. I tried to talk to Justin this morning about it and he just brushed me off," she sighed. "So we're going out shopping now--and I had to tell the rest of the guys that Harris is my friend, while Justin completely ignored him this morning. I think Harris was really hurt by that--who wouldn't be?"

My head started to pound. Why was everything becoming so ridiculously complicated, I thought while rubbing my temples. "Look, Britney, I don't want to be rude and I'd love to talk to you now...but I've been up most of the night and..."

"And you're tired," she finished up for me with a smile, despite my cranky demeanor. "I understand--I think it was great of you to stay with Lance all night. The guys told me how you reacted when you saw Lance fall." Britney's brown eyes grew soft with emotion. "That was really sweet."

"Well, I was worried when he fell, but now I'm paying the price," I said wearily as I attempted to stifle a yawn. "But we have to get together again before you leave, Britney. We have to talk to Justin about this whole charade. This is getting stupid, him hiding his relationship from the guys."

Britney thought for a few seconds. "What about tomorrow--I have a bunch of press junkets in the morning, but we could meet for lunch or dinner, okay?" she suggested, giving me a bright smile.

"Yeah, that sounds good--you know where I am at the hotel, right?" I asked her. Britney nodded just as Justin came out of the hospitals back door. Maybe he knew we were talking about him, because all he did was give us a little sneer as he hopped into the passenger seat of the car, without even waving at me.

"Yeesh, someone is a little pissy," I said in surprise. Britney just shook her head.

"He's been that way all morning since we talked to the other guys. Stephen, we have to talk to him--before I kill him!" Britney exclaimed, making a strangling motion with her hands, causing both of us to laugh. We said our good-byes and I walked back to the front of the hospital to wait for my taxi which arrived about fifteen minutes later. When I finally made it back to the hotel, I was so tired, I was surprised I didn't fall asleep in the elevator. Once I had reached my floor, the doors opened and I saw Joey lingering around in the hallway.

"Hey, Stephen," he greeted me with a grin, once I stepped off the elevator. I managed to lift my hand up to wave at him, despite the pains that were shooting through my body.

"Hi Joey, " I said, as I began to walk towards my room. Joey fell into step next to me and then showed me the the early morning edition of a local newspaper.

"Look, you made the front page," he said as he opened it up. I stopped dead in my tracks, as my eyes skimmed over the paper. The headline read something about a member of `N Sync falling from the mid-air. The accompanying picture below it was an enlarged shot of Lance lying on the stage, while I knelt next to him, with our hands entwined.

"Nice," I said flatly, reaching my door and unlocking it. "Good to know that the press is always taking pictures when you don't need them." Joey let out a nervous laugh at my humorless remark and then followed me into the room.

"I kinda came to talk to you--but it's more like a pre-warning," he said awkwardly as I sat on the neatly made bed. I looked up at him, only to see that the normally carefree Joey had a worried expression on face.

"What now?" I groaned, as I closed my eyes. `It would be so easy to fall asleep, wouldn't it?' My tired brain spoke up. I fought to open my eyes back up, shaking the tempting thought from my mind.

"Um...Marshall is really mad...at this picture," Joey said, pointing at the black and white newspaper photograph. "He told us this morning that he needs to speak to you as soon as you get back from the hospital."

"As soon as I get back!" I exclaimed, not believing it. "I am dead tired. He can speak to me when I've had a little more sleep. And what is his problem anyways? Josh and Chris were telling me something along those lines when they came to visit Lance last night!" As I rambled on, I noticed that Joey was cringing at my anger and looked as though he was about to shrink into the corner at which point, I stopped my ranting.

"Sorry," I apologized. "I didn't mean to yell at you. Really," I added after a skeptical look crossed Joey's face. "It's just that I do not need this shit. Marshall should be glad that Lance is okay instead of worrying about a picture of us holding hands. Big deal...I was worried about him."

Joey shook his head. "Stephen, Marshall is like that. You just have to take him with a grain of salt--I was just warning you so you wouldn't blow up at him when he came to talk to you. He doesn't like to be yelled at," Joey divulged, before giving me a grin. "Although after seeing you blow up like that, I'm not sure if I'd want to cross your path," he joked, turning back towards the door to leave.

Despite my tired state, I managed to let out a laugh. "Glad to hear that you know not to mess with me!" I called out as Joey left the room. "Thanks for telling me!."

"No problem!" he yelled from the hallway. I was finally alone, I thought with relief as I fell back onto the bed and promptly fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later and felt something was missing. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that I missed the feeling of Lance's arms around me as I woke up. I felt like a half a person, as I got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. As I did this, my mind began to reel. Had I become dependent on Lance? I counted on him to be there all the time, and now that he wasn't there with me, I felt weird. I can't exactly explain the feeling, but I knew that something was missing from my being--and that something was sitting in a hospital room, about five miles away.

As I walked out of the bathroom, my ears were greeted to the sound of someone knocking on my door. Wrapping the towel around my waist tighter, I walked to the door and opened it. Standing before me was Marshall, dressed in a business suit, wearing a business expression on his face.

"Yes?" I asked him. He stared at me for a couple of seconds before finally speaking.

"Stephen," he began in a carefully controlled voice. "Didn't we speak about Lance and you not showing affection in public?" I tried my best to not get angry at the idiot standing in front of me. `Let the man say what he needs to,' I said to myself.

"Yes, we did, Marshall," I answered politely out loud.

"Then why did you grab onto Lance's hand on stage, in front of thousands of people, after he fell yesterday?" Marshall asked in that tight, business-like voice that practically made my hair stand on end. I took a couple of deep breaths to control my anger, which was rising higher and higher every second that Marshall stood in front of me.

"Marshall, didn't you ever care about anyone before?" I asked him, keeping my voice even. "If you see someone you care who's hurt, you don't think about how you look to others," I said, trying to explain my feelings. "You just worry if they're okay."

"Um, I'm not concerned about that--my concern is with the image of my band here--" Marshall began in that snippy little voice, before I cut him off. That was it. I had it. I began to feel the exact same way that I did when I quit my job.

"Image? That image is no good if someone died, Marshall. I grabbed onto Lance's hand because I cared about him. I thought he was hurt, I thought that maybe..." My voice began to waver at the thought. "...maybe Lance had died. And when I rushed up to him, I wanted to make sure he was okay. I didn't worry about any goddamn public image," I lashed out.

As I ranted, Marshall's face began to drain of all its color, as I stood there and shouted at him. Maybe no one had done this to him before and I didn't care if I was the first. I had been, in a way, controlled, my whole life--by work, by my mother--everyone but myself. And now, with finding Lance, I felt as though I was in charge of myself, my decisions, doing what I wanted. And I refused for anyone, especially Marshall, to try and retake charge of it just because he didn't like me showing affection towards someone I loved.

"If you put business before caring about someone, then I'm sorry, but you are a very sad person," I told him, trying to cool myself down. I took a deep breath, not believing that I had flown off the handle like I did. "I am not like that, Marshall. If I care about someone, I am not going to hold back so then I can regret it later on, when its too late to do anything else." An image of Dr. Winters sad face suddenly flashed in my mind, as I thought of the words that she spoke that morning. And then I had nothing else to say. My mouth snapped shut--I had said way too much, much more than I wanted to.

But what surprised me the most was the look of complete shock that was now slapped across Marshall's face. I had rendered the man speechless. He just stood there and stared at me, with a look of disbelief in his eyes. And then suddenly, the old Marshall was back, his eyebrows angled into a frown as the old look of disgust and annoyance slipped back into place.

"Just don't do it again," he snapped before spinning on his heel and walking down the hall. I stood there in the doorway, watching him leave, when I realized that I was shaking. That was the second time in my life that I had defended myself like that. And you wanna know something, I liked the new me. I liked it a lot.

I headed back to the hospital an hour later, and saw to my relief all of the teenage girls that had populated the waiting room before, were now gone. I walked to a bored-looking nurse on duty and explained to her that I was here to see Lance Bass. She gave me a look of disbelief, until she checked a list and saw my name was on it. The nurse then led me to his little private room in the back of the emergency room and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Lance's voice called through the heavy wooden door. The nurse turned the knob and looked in the room.

"I have a visitor here to see you, Mr. Bass," she told him as I waltzed through the door. Lance's face lit up with a grin upon seeing me and I had to say I was just as happy to see him. We watched as the nurse left the room and closed the door behind her. "So," I said, turning towards him. "How is my baby now?" I pulled myself onto the edge of the bed and smiled at him. Without a word, Lance leaned over and gave me a kiss.

"Missed you," he said, with a boyish grin on his lips.

"Me?" I pointed at my chest. "You missed me? Aww, I'm touched," I said, trying to look embarrassed, before letting out a laugh. "Would you believe I actually missed your ugly face?" I joked.

Lance gave me a hurt look in return, widening his green eyes in mock offense. "That's not very nice," he said, sticking his lower lip out. "I'm a sick boy..I fell from the stage--you should be bending over backwards to be nice to me. Now," he said, curving his lips into a devilish grin. "Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness."

"I don't think begging for forgiveness is the only thing I'd be doing," I said in a provocative voice, which caused Lance to blush a bright red. Noticing his expression, I let out a laugh, and kissed him on the cheek. "So dirty and so innocent at the same time," I sighed. "I love that about you."

"You're sweet," he said, taking my hand in his. "Did you hear--we're canceling the concert tonight and tomorrow? Marshall came here a little while before you and told me that he was canceling the next two days of concerts." I looked at Lance in disbelief.

"You're kidding," I said, not believing what I had just heard,

Lance's expression was just as shocked as mine. "I know," he said, shaking his head. "He told me that it was more important for me to get well and to rest up, instead of performing tonight. They've rescheduled the concert for Friday and Saturday, which means we lose two of our days off, but...we get tonight and tomorrow off." Lance grinned at me. "Maybe someone can make me feel better," he said, looking at me hopefully. I rolled my eyes at him and gave him another kiss on the lips.

"Maybe," I laughed after we parted. My expression turned serious, as my mind reeled back to Lance's mother. "But is your mother still in town?"

Lance groaned at the thought of her. "Shit, I completely forgot about mom...she told me that she's staying tonight and taking a flight back out tomorrow," he said with a sigh. "I guess we're going out for dinner or something tonight. I'm not sure."

I shifted my weight on the bed, and began to stroke Lance's soft fingers in my hand. "Are you gonna tell her...about us?" My voice came out very soft, as though I was afraid to hear his answer.

I looked at Lance, whose green eyes were focused intently on me. "Of course, I was planning on telling her at dinner tonight. " he said, with a soft smile on his face. "I'll admit it...I'm afraid to see her reaction when I tell her." Lance paused for a dew seconds. "Petrified, actually. But I have to...I can't hide you from her or my family forever."

"You don't have to tell her tonight, Lance," I told him. "I mean, I know you'll have to tell your family eventually." I smiled to lighten the tension that was starting to build. "They'll probably want to know why their son is hanging around with a weirdo all the time."

Lance giggled at my remark. "Weirdo, huh? Couldn't have put it better myself."

I slapped him gently across his face. "Thanks a lot--this is where you're supposed to say, `No Stephen, you're not a weirdo. You're an incredibly handsome guy that I love,'" I said unpretentiously, which caused Lance to laugh even harder.

"Not to mention so modest," he added, returning my slap. "But seriously," he began as his giggles trailed off. "I want you to come along to dinner tonight with me. I think you should be there when I tell mom, just like when I told the guys."

I stared at Lance skeptically. "Are you sure you want me to be there? What if she gets really angry at me and punches me out."

"My mom's not like that, Stephen," Lance said. "She's really understanding and that's why I want you to be there, no and's, if's or buts." He leaned over to place a kiss on my nose. "Please?" he asked softly, giving me his puppy dog eyes look he knew I couldn't resist.

I let out a groan. "Okay, okay," I caved in. "You know you're the only person who can do that to me," I told Lance as he gave me a Cheshire cat grin.

"I know...why do you think I give you this look?" he asked, widening his eyes and sticking out his lower lip once more. "For fun? I know how to get what I want," Lance said devilishly, as he pulled me closer for another kiss.

"You know we are in a hospital," I murmured against his lips before they brushed gently against mine. "What if someone walks in on us like this?"

Lance grinned at my remark. "Maybe I'm an exhibitionist," he whispered. "Maybe I want people to see us."

"Oh, wait until I tell your mom that tonight," I laughed, with a smirk on my face, right before we were about to kiss once more. Lance had pulled me even closer to him, so that I was almost lying on top of him and was about to say something, when the door swung open and Diane Bass emerged from the hallway. She looked taken aback as her eyes took in the sight of her son and another man pressed together. Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave us both an expectant look.

"Tell me what?" she asked the two of us simply.

I know, another cliffhanger--I'm bad :) But see, won't the next one be more exciting now? Anyhoo--feedback and whatever you need to say can be sent to sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Thanks for reading and until next time...Gabriella.