Date: Sat, 15 Jan 2000 14:17:26 EST
From: Kenitra Writer <kenitra_canada@hotmail.com>
Subject: fates reason part 1

NOTES: NEWBIE, NEWBIE, NEWBIE - There you have it! This is my first post so
any comments would be appreciated. But please, if you can't be kind, at
least be funny. : -))
Please let me know what you think at kenitra_canada@hotmail.com or
kenitra@canada.com

LEGALITIES: You know the drill. If you are under the legal age for whatever
state, province or country you live in, don't read this story. If you are
offended by material about homosexual relationships, DON'T READ IT.

This is a complete work of fiction, as everyone should know. It is not
intended to imply anything about any one of the Backstreet Boys or any one
else. The characters and characterizations are completely invented.

Hope you enjoy!
Kenitra

Fate's Reason
+++++++++++++
Part 1
**************************************

"Hey Fag!"

As soon as Mark heard the words, he knew he was in trouble and his happy
mood vanished. It was three AM and he was walking home after clubbing with
some friends after going to the Backstreet Boys concert at the Skydome. The
street was basically deserted and a quick look around showed Mark there
wasn't going to be any help.

He turned to face his tormentors. "What do ya want?" he asked the four
obviously drunk men. They kept walking until they were directly in front of
him. Mark could smell the alcohol from his position and before he could
reconsider and think about running, the men fanned out around him. He was
trapped. 'Shit' Mark thought. He knew he would have to make a break for it
and just pray that someone cam along willing to help. 'Ya right,' he
thought. When it looked like the guy in front of him zoned out, Mark darted
past him.

Despite their intoxication, the guys were quick and grabbed Mark before he
could get away. They threw him against the wall. The biggest and drunkest
of the bunch moved in and began smashing his fist into Mark while two
others held him.  Mark was strong and athletic, but he could defend himself
against the onslaught.

He yelled for help, but the thugs just laughed. "Who's gonna help a fag?"
another one leered.

Mark began to slide to the ground, dizzy from the punches to his head. As
soon as he did another one moved in and began kicking him. Mark tried to
curl up in a ball and protect his head and groin, praying for it to end.

"Is there a problem here?" a new voice asked, causing the thugs to turn
around.  Mark remained where he was.

"Mind your own fuckin' business," one of the assailants spat out.

"Or what?" the voice asked nonchalantly walking closer.

The thugs laughed, what could one slight man do against them? "Hey when
we're done with this one, will move on to ya!" They began to walk towards
the man, then halted. Mark wasn't sure why. He tried to open his eyes but
they filled with blood from a gash on his forehead. Squinting to see, he
could see the feet of the new man. Then he noticed four more sets of legs
walk up behind.

A second new voice spoke. "I would suggest that you get the hell outta here
- now!" the man threatened.

The drunks thought about arguing then finally said, "You want the fag so
much - have him. We're done, for now." They stumbled out of the alley. Mark
was rapidly losing his battle to remain conscious and didn't here the thugs
leave. When someone touched his shoulder, he flinched.

"Please stop," he begged, hoping he wouldn't get kicked or punched again.
The man touching him felt his heart go out to the beaten soul.

The hand on Mark's shoulder didn't inflict pain. It just stayed there,
gently rubbing his shoulder. Mark forced himself to concentrate on what was
happening.

One of the new voices was asking him, "Are you okay, man?"

Another voice, "We should call the cops."

"He needs a hospital," another voice said, the man closest to Mark and the
one who had first spoken to the thugs. At that suggestion Mark tried to sit
up.

"No!" he whispered painfully, discovering his lips were cut and already
swollen.  He sat back, leaning his head against the cement and brick
wall. He was shivering even though it wasn't cold, even for November.

The voices moved away from Mark.

Voice 2: *We should still call the cops.*

Voice 3: *Lets just take him to a hospital.*

Voice 1: *No. He doesn't want that.*

Voice 4: *We can't just leave him here.*

Voice 1: *It was probably the t-shirt. We should take him with us.*

Then the men returned to Mark. A man knelt beside him, gently wiping the
blood from his eyes with a kleenex. Once the blood was gone, Mark could see
slightly better, out of one eye only as the other was completely swollen
shut. In the limited lighting of the street, Mark could see five men, the
one kneeling beside him and four standing around.

"Why don't you want to go to the hospital," the one beside him asked. Mark
recognized the slightly accented voice as the one who had challenged the
thugs.

Mark tried to turn his head to see the man better but stopped when pain
shot through his skull. "Police report," he whispered.

"Huh?" one of the others asked.

"Can't tell gay bashed...job...get fired," Mark managed to say through his
painful lips.

There was another pause as the men looked at each other. The one man, tall
and dark haired, sighed and nodded at the golden haired man beside
Mark. "Do you think you can walk?" the kneeling man asked.

Mark nodded and tried to push himself up. Two pairs of hands immediately
reached under his arms, steadying him. Once standing, the helping hands
remained as they walked out of the alley.

Mark had no idea where he was being taken and didn't care; he was too busy
trying to remain conscious and walking. Everything was a blur. At one point
he knew he was on an elevator, then in a room; a hotel maybe. Hands gently
removed his dirt and blood-soaked jacket, and then returned to strip him of
his shoes, pants and shirt, leaving him only his black boxer briefs. Then
he realized he was lying on a bed under blankets.

Before he finally gave in and passed out he grabbed the hand of one of his
rescuers. "Please take care of the t-shirt." Then he fell into
oblivion. His rescuers found Mark's wallet and were finally able to put a
name to the man they had helped. While four of the rescuers left for their
own rooms, the golden- haired man remained. He sat watching Mark toss and
turn in his sleep, wishing he could do more to help him.

A few hours later, Mark woke up screaming, fighting off the hands that he
thought were hurting him, kicking him.

"Shhh, Mark, its okay. You're safe, its okay," a soothing voice said as
cool hands touched his forehead and rubbed the back of his neck. Mark
turned into the comforting arms and wrapped himself in their protection,
falling into a more peaceful sleep.

Hours later, Mark stirred. He knew his head was resting on someone's chest
because he could hear the steady heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of
breathing. He had no idea where he was.

Mark let out a loud moan when he licked his dry lips, finding the cut still
raw.  The events of the previous night came rushing back. He had no idea
who his heroes were, but he owed them his life. Tentatively he tried to
move. His entire body screamed at him; every muscle and bone ached. Slowly,
Mark rolled off the warm chest he'd had his arm flung across.

He found himself flat on his back, breathing hard, wondering if dying would
have hurt less. The man beside him stirred, and looked down at Mark, unsure
what to say. Mark closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying not to
groan with pain.  He just focused on breathing, in and out.

A soft voice beside Mark spoke, "About all I can offer you is aspirin." All
Mark could do was nod. He felt the bed move as the man got up and went to
the bathroom.

He returned and walked around to the other side of the bed. He gently put
his arm under Mark's shoulders, raising his head so he could swallow water
and the two pills he put in Mark's mouth.

Mark grimaced as he lay back down. "Thank you for everything," he said,
opening the one eye not completely swollen shut. He couldn't see the man
clearly although he could tell he was young and blond. "I don't even know
who to thank," Mark said in barely a whisper, his throat sore and dry.

The man smiled, grateful that Mark was awake and alert. "My name is Brian,"
he said, waiting for Mark's reaction.

Mark just nodded. "Thank you Brian. You and your friends saved my life." A
new thought occurred to Mark and he tried to sit up, immediately falling
back on the bed. He moaned loudly. "Shit!" he said, with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Brian asked.

"I need to call my work; let them know I won't be in today."

"It's already done," a new voice said from the doorway. Mark turned his
head but couldn't see anything but a shadow. "Kevin found your employee
card in your wallet. He called, saying he was a friend and that you had
been mugged last night so wouldn't be in today." The man walked further
into the room.

Mark thought about what the new man had said. Then he smiled to himself,
figuring these guys wouldn't get it. "So, Brian and Kevin. Who does that
make you? Howie?" he asked.

The man laughed. "No, actually I'm A.J., Howie is still eating breakfast."

Mark froze. The man *wasn't* joking. Mark slowly turned his head and
concentrated on focusing on Brian sitting on the side of the bed. His face
finally came clear and he was smiling at Mark. "Oh my God!" Mark said
softly.

Brian turned to A.J. "I think he just recognized us," he said with a grin.
All Mark could think about was those dimples and that smile.

"I think I'm insulted. He even had a t-shirt to help get the names and
faces right." A.J. said, moving to a position where Mark could see that,
yes, it was A.J. McLean.

Mark tried to smile. "Well if I could see more than two feet in front of
me, I'm sure I wouldn't have insulted Howie with such a mix-up."

Brian laughed and A.J. grinned. "Ouch!" he said, still smiling.

Another man walked in. "I think I found some clothes he can wear." Mark
knew immediately that the newest arrival was Nick Carter.

He felt strange lying there with these particular guys around him. He
clenched his teeth and pushed himself into a sitting position. He gasped at
the pain and Brian immediately reached out, helping him lean against the
headboard, putting pillows behind Mark's head and back.

Mark could barely see Nick looking at him. "Jeez, I told you guys we should
have put ice on those eyes." He turned and went out the door, tossing the
clothes he'd brought, onto the bed.

A.J. picked up the clothes, holding up a pair of jeans and a button down
flannel shirt. "Kevin's jeans and Nick's shirt. Should fit," A.J. commented
to no one in particular.

Mark looked at Brian when he touched his hand. "Sorry, your other clothes
were unsalvageable; even the t-shirt."

Mark cursed himself for blushing as he remembered asking his rescuers to
save the t-shirt he'd bought at the concert. Mark caught his breath when
Brian smiled. "I think we can find you a Backstreet Boy ...t-shirt, if you
want one."  Mark thought he'd heard Brian pause but knew it was wishful
thinking.

"Thanks," he said.

Nick returned carrying a folded towel. He walked over to the bed and handed
it Mark. "Put this on your eye. It'll help." Mark carefully placed the
towel, filled with ice, over his worst eye, leaving the other uncovered so
he could see.

"Thank you Nick," he said softly.

"No prob man," Nick replied with an easy smile.

Mark suddenly felt uncomfortable. These guys probably had the day off and
here they were nursing him. "You know, if someone called me a cab, I could
go home and get out of your way," he said. "I'm sure you have better things
to do."

Brian froze, hoping Nick and A.J. wouldn't do anything. When no one said
anything Brian decided to test Mark. "Fine. If you can make it out the
door, I'll call you a cab," he said and stood up, crossing his arms,
watching Mark.

It wasn't exactly what Mark had expected; it sounded like Brian didn't want
him to leave. He took a deep breath and swung his legs over the side of the
bed.  His body screamed and Mark gritted his teeth. He had to catch his
breath.  Grabbing the bedside table for support, Mark forced himself into a
standing position.  Brian watched, thinking 'god this man is determined.'
Mark realized he was wearing only his boxer briefs. He felt exposed, but
Brian had challenged him so he was going to keep going. Taking a deep
breath, Mark began to walk. He made it about five steps before his legs
refused to go on and his entire body stopped obeying. He would have
crumpled to the floor if Brian hadn't been standing right behind him and
grabbed him under the arms. Nick jumped forward to help and between the
two, they managed to help Mark back to the bed.

He collapsed against the pillows, exhausted. Brian sat back down on the
edge of the bed. "We'll let you know if you become too much of a bother,
okay?" he said.  Mark nodded and returned the towel with ice to his eye.

He heard the door open and could see the shadow of another man walk
in. From his height, Mark figured it was Kevin. "So how's it going in
here?" Kevin asked casually, walking around the bed so Mark could see him
better.

"I'm sorry for causing you guys so much trouble," Mark finally said.

Kevin shrugged. "Hey, you give us something different to do on our day
off."

Mark smiled weakly, "Not exactly what you had in mind."

"So have you guys offered Mark anything to drink or eat?" Kevin continued.
No one said a word. "Mark, can I get you anything?"

Mark thought for a moment. He could really use a drink. "Some orange juice,
with a straw, would be terrific," he said.

Kevin looked over at Nick. Getting the hint, Nick volunteered to go get the
orange juice.

"I don't know if they told you, but I called you work to let them know you
wouldn't be in today." Mark nodded and Kevin continued. "So what exactly is
Forever's Child Mark?" Kevin asked curiously.

"It's a place where terminally ill kids can go, and do things that other
kids get to do, but with added support. The kids can go to school, play
sports, learn an instrument, whatever they want for however long they
have," Mark explained.  The room was absolutely quiet.

"Wow!" Brian said softly, thinking what an amazing man Mark was.

"I second that Bri," A.J. added.

"So what do you do there?" Howie asked, having arrived in time to hear
Mark's explanation.

"I do physiotherapy with the kids who need it and run the athletic
program," Mark explained weakly.

Nick returned carrying a large glass of orange juice with a straw. He
handed it to Brian who held it for Mark to drink. When done, Mark slumped
back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

"I think we should let Mark get some rest," Kevin announced, heading to the
door. A.J., Howie and Nick followed. Brian remained where he was. "Brian?"
Kevin asked from the door.

"I'm going to stay. Make sure he's okay," Brian replied, not even looking
at his cousin. The others left, closing the door softly behind them.

Mark opened his eyes to look at Brian. "You don't have to stay, ya know."

Brian smiled. "I want to. Now try to get some sleep." Brian moved over to
the nearby chair and began looking at a magazine. Mark watched Brian for a
few minutes before giving into his body and falling asleep.


TBC
***********************************************
Please feel free to email any comments to me. I have a much bigger story
already well underway and could use any suggestions to make it better.

B.T.W. the sex is coming, soon!

Thanxs, K.