Date: Wed, 20 Dec 2000 16:03:19 EST
From: FishofHappiness@aol.com
Subject: The Magnificant Journey, Part 3

Disclaimer: I know no one mentioned in this story. None of this is true.
Don't read if you're too young or too immature to handle it.

Feedback, as always, is appreciated and can be received at
FishofHappiness@aol.com.


The title for this chapter comes from the Counting Crow's "Raining in
Baltlimore".


The Magnificent Journey
Chapter 3: "I need a phone call."

Lance drove on and on, the silence eventually faded into the noises of the
road. Traffic was present but not notable, there wasn't enough to worry
about. He had stopped for gas, and while he was there, had picked up the
junkiest of junk food, in order to keep his blood sugar up. The last thing
he needed was to fall asleep at the wheel. After two creme filled generic
brand cupcakes, and half a pack of knock-off pixie stix, there was little
doubt of that happening. For a while anyway.

Chris seemed to be even more tired then he had let on. He had slept the
entire time solidly, without even a slight snore to warn of his
presence. Normally, Chris's slumber was like his waking existence. He was
never still, always tossing and turning, mumbling or dreaming, and he would
never remember a lick of it later. Just like in his waking life.  Chris
never seemed to remember specific instances, despite how important they
might be to other people. He was crazy, he was hyper, but he was not a
romantic by nature. Down to earth and practical weren't normally words
associated with a person whose nervous activities rivaled those of Richard
Simmons on crack, but Chris seemed to work the unlikely genre well. Lance
envied him that. Lance didn't have that much energy, that much stamina. The
Basses were generally a hearty clan, but Lance had always been the 'sick
kid' and being away from home and under stress just seemed to emphasize
that fact.  The road wore him down easily and without compassion. The times
when he needed the most energy, he had the least to draw on. Lance Bass
wasn't built for touring, and it had been another black mark in a long list
he imagined the guys kept.

Which was probably in and of itself the reason he ended up in spots like
this. He was a doormat, and he knew it. They walked all over him, leaving
dirt and clumps of other unmentionable materials sticking on him, and he
let them. Sometimes he hated that about himself, but normally he took it
with the idea that maybe, just maybe he owed them.  They picked him. Him,
the most uncoordinated, uncool person that ever walked the halls of
Mississippi, let alone the humbled stages of Orlando's growing pop
scene. He couldn't dance, he was shy, he looked goofy... he was just the
exact opposite of the boy band ideal. He wasn't even that smart. Sure he
took to business, but he wasn't a glowing example of the Perfect Boy Next
Door (Brains, beauty, and brawn).

When he though about it, though, Chris was no nearer to the ideal that
Justin and JC so easily illustrated. Chris was older, he was mercurial at
times, his sense of style tended to the harsher, he may have crazy in the
hyper way, but his dreams all had settled down, and were set on settling
down. Maybe it was okay to be far from the perfect band member as long as
there were others just as far away, and maybe it wasn't. Did it matter?

Silent days always made Lance so reflective. It was early afternoon, and he
was driving on a straight road, the scenery was dry and desert and meant
nothing as he drove past it, whizzing trough it faster then he was falling
off his sugar high. He usually spent his vacations in silence. Life on the
road was so loud, so bustling that the only way to escape it was for
complete silence to take over his life. It never lasted, though. He never
seemed to get his full vacation. He always seemed to be called into the
office at Freelance, or Jive was calling him to get the 'skinny' on what
was going on with the other guys. It was a sore spot for him that he never
seemed to even get a full vacation, but he put up with it.  He put up with
everything. Jive was probably filling up his voice mail as he drove,
frantically looking for him to do this or that, and basically do the job of
whomever it was that wasn't doing it. He got sick of it sometimes.

"What's wrong, Lance?"

Lance jumped like a jackrabbit in a redneck's yard. Somehow, at some point
Chris had woken up, and was staring at him. Chris's eyes were always so
intense, for some reason.  At first glance, they weren't anywhere near his
best feature, but if you got to know Chris, you came to understand the way
that the brown eyes bored into you, the way they glared at you, or just
watched you so that you knew they were watching, and Chris was judging.
Chris was always judging.

"I... I was just thinking about how Jive and Freelance are probably filling
up my voicemail and my e-mail box right now."

"Why don't you check them?"

"I didn't bring my laptop, or my cell phone."

Chris looked mildly shocked at that. "Scoop without his cell phone? I
thought you would die without that thing... I was fairly sure that it was
attached to your hand..."

Lance smiled at that, briefly. "I didn't think I would be this long,
and...well, I'm kind of sick of getting no time off from it all."

"Good. Damn good, actually. They need to give you a break. You know, that's
the real reason I called you." Chris's voice was softer now, more honest
sounding. "Well, that and the fact I'm pretty certain you're the only one
that won't tease me about Dani."

"Huh? I thought it was because I 'wasn't doing anything important'" Even
quoted, the words still held a slight sting.

"No, I... was just being an asshole earlier. You never get any rest,
Scoop. They run you ragged. Frankly it's about time you hung up on them for
a while. I thought this might be a good 24-hour break from it all. Only, it
turned out to be a little longer then I expected..."  Chris's voice trailed
off, but he had a quirky grin that made Lance laugh out loud. It felt good
to laugh.

"Yeah, you can certainly say that again, Chris."