Date: Fri, 26 Jan 2001 02:16:37 -0500
From: cat's eye <jade_prophecy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Endgame:Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I have never met and do not know any member of *NSync, and am
making no claims as to the personality or sexuality of any of its members.
This is fiction, straight from my twisted little mind.  Feedback please.
*'s mean italics.

                              Chapter 4

	Lance quickly made his way through the undergrowth, mindless
of the brambles that caught in his clothes.  Small bushes seemed to
sprout out of nowhere, causing him to stumble, and the supple,
springy branches of young saplings slapped eagerly at his face.
Though he had not come this way for several years, he navigated
twists and turns as if the path had been marked in bright red paint.
Justin had to be here.  He just had to be.  Lance knew that Justin
would instinctively seek out the one place that offered both security
and obscurity--the secret hideaway that had sheltered their fears and
fantasies so long ago.

	As he ran, he replayed the scene in his mind.

	Justin had indeed fulfilled his promise that he would be the
youngest games entrant ever.  Justin's tendency to get whatever he
wanted had only increased with age, as he added charm and a glib
tongue to his already open, disarming demeanor.  The golden hurricane
on his head had in no way become more subdued, but his hair was now
seen as a novelty, rather than something to be mocked.  He was near
the end of his awkward, gangly stage, and the breadth of his
shoulders managed to offset the lankiness of his frame.  At sixteen,
Justin was undoubtedly one of the most popular young men in the
village. Lance had filled out similarly, but had turned out a bit
more solid, and slightly stockier.  Apprenticing in his father's
smithery had not only strengthened his body, but his mind as well.
He enjoyed the challenge that running a business had afforded his
intelligence, and the smithery had become the busiest one in the
entire province, with people bringing business from as far as three
towns away.

	The day had started flawlessly.  Keeping in line with the
classic cliche, the sun had been shining brightly, with a hint of
a breeze to keep the day from growing too hot.  A few clouds, white
as cotton and twice as puffy, scattered themselves throughout the
sky.  The children's parade had been an excited cacophony of cheers,
cymbals, and drums, amidst a flurry of flower petals.  The mayor had
truly outdone himself with his speech, waxing grandiose and managing
to bore the entire crowd even more thoroughly than usual.  He had
even managed to mention Justin in his speech.  It was supposed to
have been  a veiled reference, but it would have been hard not to
know who the "example of strength and courage, regardless of age"
was.  Even from his place in the crowd, Lance had been able to see
Justin's chest swell, though to the boy's credit, he made a (poor)
attempt at hiding it.

	  Every year, the last event of the games was a mile-long
run. Justin had performed well in all of the events so far, and there
seemed to be those of the opinion that he would actually make the top
three, an admirable feat, especially for one so young.  Lance had
watched it all from his seat in the stands between his and Justin's
parents.  Near the end of the race, Justin had been in second place
and was poised to take the lead.

	Perhaps the sun had been in his eyes, perhaps a small stone
had been overlooked on the carefully swept track, perhaps Justin had
been so distracted his soon-to be -glory days as a knight that he had
stopped paying attention.  Whatever the reason, Justin's foot had
come down just a bit *wrong*, and the boy had ended up sprawled face-
down in the dust, not ten feet from the finish line.  The judges'
whistle, disqualifying him from the race as well as the games
overall, had sounded, however unnecessarily.

	Somewhere behind him, Lance heard the mutterings of those who
are always eager to focus on someone else's misfortune: *"Once a
klutz, always a klutz."*  *"Serves him right, trying to show everyone
else up by competing so young."*  *"Shoulda waited 'til he was old
enough to do it right."*   Even before the whistle's piercing shriek
had died on the thick afternoon air, Lance was moving to the end of
the row.  Even as Justin was picking himself up and dusting himself
off, Lance was running up the stairs towards the hallway that ran the
perimeter of the arena.  Even as Justin was walking stiffly towards
the player's exit, head held high despite the tittering and catcalls,
Lance was running down the hallway, towards the main exit.

	As he stood before the two crossed trees, he heard a few
muted sniffles.

	"Just?"

	"Go away."

	Lance sighed and dropped to his knees.  After looking about
for a bit, he decided that the space between two bushes that didn't
grow as closely together as the others offered the best access.
Amidst many grunts and more than a few curses, he half-crawled, half-
squeezed his way in.  Once inside, he peered around, allowing his
eyes to grow accustomed to the dim atmosphere.

	He saw Justin near the back, his legs drawn up in front of
him, his arms curled protectively around himself.  His shoulders were
hunched, and he stared out of his mental cocoon with wild eyes.  The
tears had managed to wash away most of the dust, but there were still
a few sticky streaks on his cheeks and chin.  Finally, he focused on
Lance.

	"I told you to go away."

	Lance merely cocked an eyebrow and didn't bother answering as
he made his way toward his friend, still on his hands and knees, as
he would have only been able to stoop had he stood up.  He finally
reached the place where Justin sat, and wedged himself in.

	"Move over."  Justin obliged, and Lance wrapped his arms
around him.

	"I was so close, Lance."  He leaned his head on Lance's
shoulder.

	"I know."

	"I was in the top three.  I could *feel* it."

	"Yeah.  You were."

	"And then--"  Justin was cut off here by a fresh spate of
tears, breathing in great whoops of air as he relived the fresh
humiliation.  His face nearly turned purple with the effort, and it
was all Lance could do to hold him as the sobs wracked his body.  He
did so silently, praying no one had followed him, as further scrutiny
would only add to the battering Justin's spirit had already taken.
He knew that mere words would only offer a mockery of comfort, so he
merely offered his presence until Justin's sobs tapered and his
breathing evened.

	"Now what?" Justin wailed.

	"You try again next year."  Lance produced a handkerchief and
gently began wiping Justin's face.

	"I-I can't, Lance.  Everyone will remember what happened and
laugh."

	"And?"  Lance tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket.

	Having no suitable answer to this, Justin decided to move
on.  "I can't stay here.  I have to leave."

	"Leave?"  Lance's perfect eyebrows were hiked to the height
of incredulity.  "And go where?"  Justin decided to ignore this minor
detail.

	"I can't stay, knowing that every day, wherever I go, someone
will look at me and remember what happened."

	"So you're leaving," Lance stated flatly.

	"I have t--"

	"You're running away," the older boy said, his voice thick
with contempt.  Inwardly he berated himself for seeming to turn on
Justin, especially after such a disastrous heartbreak, but he felt
that if the boy saw running as a option, he would always take it.  He
crawled away, removing his warmth, then paused and looked back over
his shoulder.  He regarded Justin as something he might find on the
bottom of his shoe.

	"I never knew you were such a coward.  Maybe it's good you
didn't make it.  The king doesn't need cowards in his army."

	One look at Justin and he knew his words had had the desired
effect, but he had never felt worse in his life about achieving his
ends.  Justin seemed to draw further into himself, become even
smaller, and he stared down at his lap, though it didn't look as if
he saw anything.  His face was a sickly white, and  he trembled
slightly.  Lance immediately crawled back and enveloped Justin
again.  The younger boy sat stiffly in his arms, refusing comfort.

	"Oh, Justin--I didn't mean it."  The lesson he had intended
to impart--however important, was not worth making Justin look like
that.

	"You're right, Lance."  Justin's voice was barely a whisper.

	"What?"

	"You were right before and you're right now.  You're always
right."  Up until now, Lance had thought that a good thing.  "You
were right when you said I'd mess up, and you are right when you say
I'm a coward."

	"No, Justin.  I didn't mean it before and I don't mean it
now.  I just don't want you to get used to running away when you
don't have to.  That's not the type of person you are--that's not the
Justin I know.  The Justin I know is one of the bravest, least
cowardly people around.  The Justin I know is the one who stood up to
our parents when we found out that some things do explode in the
oven." Justin smiled faintly at this memory.  "The Justin I know
doesn't *have* to run away because he can look anyone who wants to
laugh at him right in the eye and make that person think twice.  The
Justin *I* know--"  here Lance took Justin's face in his hands and
forced the other boy to look right into his eyes, their faces so
close that their noses almost touched "--will train hard all year,
harder than he'e ever trained before, he will go *back* to that arena
next year and compete, and not *only* will he make the top three, he
will be the best *out* of those three.  And when he's getting ready
to go to the castle to train, and he encounters the people who
laughed at him before, looking ashamed of themselves, he will not
lord his victory over them--he will merely nod and smile kindly
because he knows that he is much better, and much, much braver than
they are."

	He held Justin's gaze until he saw understanding in the dark
blue eyes.  He thought he may have seen something else, too, but now
was not the time for that.

	They sat back, Justin once again settling contentedly in the
crook of Lance's arms.  When he spoke again, his voice was small, but
much more hopeful.  "Are you sure, Lance?"  He turned his head so
that his cheek was against Lance's shoulder, and looked up at his
friend.

	Lance gave a low laugh and leaned his head back against the
rock wall, looking at Justin out of the corner of his eye, which was
nearly closed.  "Well, like you said, I *am* always right."

	There were no more words after that, as they sat together,
and waited for sundown, as they had so many years ago.

Copyright 2000-01 cat's eye