Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2002 12:33:08 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 73

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy
constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy
flames, and will not tolerate them.

Welcome to season 5.

***Jack***

"We should have just eloped," I grumbled, sipping my coffee and moving a
post it note labeled "Carl and Guest" from one table on my seating chart to
another.

"Why are you working on that now?" Josh asked, grinning from the bathroom
doorway as he leaned over to turn the shower on. He was wearing only a
towel, his hair tousled above his sparkling blue eyes and white grin, a
flash of tanned thigh peeking out where the edges of the towel didn't quite
meet.

"Because we told the wedding woman that we would have it ready by this
afternoon, remember?" I answered, moving Carl and his guest again.

Josh sauntered over, hips rolling as he crossed the floor. I tried to keep
myself from looking at his tanned, muscled torso, tried to keep my eyes
from following his rounded shoulders, or tracing the lines of his arms. I
promised myself I wouldn't look at his brown nipples, and I especially
wouldn't think about chewing on them, and listening to the noises he would
make as I did. I really, really tried to force myself from noticing the way
his towel stretched tightly as he walked, bumping up in the middle as his
cock pushed against it, not hard, but still substantial. Nope, I was just
going to stay here, looking at my wedding reception chart, which was taking
on the Byzantine complexity of a war effort.  Less paperwork went into the
last fall of Poland, I'm certain, than was going into this.

"I thought we weren't going to call her the wedding woman anymore," Josh
purred, coming up behind me. His firm hands dropped down, sliding under my
robe, and began kneading at my shoulders and neck. "You're tense."

"At the price we're paying her, I should be allowed to call her whatever I
want," I said, grinning. I let out a little sigh as his expert hands began
to work at a knot in my neck, right at the part where it joined my
shoulders. "Stop that. You're distracting me."

"I know I'm distracting you," Josh chuckled, his breath on my cheek. He
bent down and started nuzzling the side of my neck as his hands slid down
over my shoulders to knead my pecs. Now that I was starting to have pecs
again, it was nice to have them kneaded every once in a while. "It's my
goal. Now stop playing with this, and come take a shower with me, Jack."

"I'm not playing with this," I said, gesturing at the table. I had the map
of the reception hall spread out, held at the corners with coffee mugs, and
all of the tables were neatly marked and covered with post it notes. On the
side, I had three or four notepads, and a pile of pens, and I was going to
finish this by the afternoon, damn it. "I'm working really hard on this,
Josh. This is our special day, and I just want it to be perfect. Besides,
I'm almost done, and then I'll come hop in the shower with you, I swear."

Josh chuckled again, his hands back on my shoulders, and kissed me on the
cheek.

"Jack, I hate to be the one who tells you this, but you're not almost
done," Josh said, giggling.

"Yes I am!" I protested. "That was the last post it note! That's all the
guests. What? Why are you laughing?"

Josh pointed at the note.

"Jack, which Carl is that?" he asked, laughing as he returned his hands to
my shoulders. I had a sinking feeling.

"I don't know," I answered, reaching for the guest list pad. "I don't even
know anyone named Carl. It's Carl who has a guest. He's your friend, or
cousin, or whatever. Why are you asking me who he is?"

"Because I have three Carls on my guest list," Josh answered, laughing
openly now.  "And I see that you have them at tables sixteen, eighteen, and
twenty-two."

I looked at table sixteen. "Carl and Guest." At table eighteen, I also saw,
"Carl and Guest." And at table twenty-two, I saw the note that I had just
stuck down, which read, of course, "Carl and Guest." I looked at my entire
map, table after table, and saw that I hadn't put in a single last name,
not on any of them. I'd just gone down the guest list, note by note. I
dropped my head into my hands as Josh laughed again, still kneading my
shoulders.

"Oh, fuck me," I sighed, ready to cry.

"That's what I've been trying to convince you to let me do for the past
five minutes," Josh said, taking my hand. He pulled me up out of my chair,
but I resisted, turning back to the hundreds of guests. "Come take a
shower. We have breakfast with the guys."

"But Josh, I have to fix this," I said helplessly, gesturing at the table
again.

"You do whatever you think is best, Jack," Josh said, grinning. He turned
and began walking toward the bathroom, letting his towel drop to the
floor. I watched his ass shake, and he looked back over his shoulder,
winking one sapphire eye at me as he saw me watching. "I'll be in the
shower."

I looked at the table, and then looked at my tanned, naked boyfriend
climbing into the shower.

"Fuck the wedding woman," I said, grinning as well.

I followed Josh to the bathroom, untying my robe and throwing it off to the
side somewhere. He was already in the shower when I walked in, so I
carefully pulled back the curtain and stepped in next to him. He grinned at
me and leaned forward, pressing his lips softly to mine. I reached up, my
hands holding the side of his face, and felt his tongue brushing against
mine. I also felt his cock, rising quickly, brushing against my throbbing
erection, and glanced down at them as we both grinned.

"Good morning, to you, too," I said, laughing. "We don't have time for
this, do we?"

"Not really," Josh sighed, kissing me again as he reached for the body
wash.  "Besides, didn't you get enough last night?"

"Silly Josh," I said, holding out the loofah as he squeezed body wash onto
it. "When it's you, it's never enough."

"You say the sweetest things," Josh said, taking the loofah from me. "Turn
around, and I'll do your back."

I turned, closing my eyes, and felt Josh's hands sliding over me. He was
still slow and tentative when he touched me, but we were doing a lot better
than my first shower. When Dr. Swan had finally allowed me to take a
shower, after they removed the needle from my arm, Josh had insisted on
accompanying me, but as we stood in the hospital bathroom, under the harsh
lights, I heard him gasp when I slid out of my robe and pajamas. I looked
up and saw him looking at me with his lip trembling, his eyes huge above
the tracks of tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Josh?" I whispered, feeling myself tearing up, too. I couldn't read his
face, but I was afraid suddenly. I knew that I didn't look especially
attractive at the moment. What if Josh didn't want me anymore? What if he
wasn't attracted to me anymore?

"Jack, you, you've just been, he hurt you so much, didn't he?" Josh asked,
reaching out to hug me as he stood there in his boxer briefs, his tanned
muscles a sharp contrast to my pale, wasted body. I'd lost so much weight
that I seemed all angles and bones, ribs and hollows. "Jack, I should have
been there."

"Josh, this isn't your fault," I repeated again, hugging him, feeling his
arms slide around me. They were strong and warm, and I realized again how
much I'd missed him, how I'd almost forgotten the smell of him, the feel of
the soft hair on his forearms. "Josh, you're here now, and that's all that
matters. Now come on. I've waited like two months for a shower. I know I'm
not real pretty right now, but do you think you could handle it?"

Josh tucked his hand under my chin, tilting my head up so that I was
staring into his eyes.  I would never have forgotten these, not in a
million years. I would always see them behind my eyes when I closed the
lids, always see the blue on blue swirl of a dozen different shades, the
flecks and dots the color of Josh's soul, soothing, calm, and strong.

"Not pretty?" he asked, staring down at me. He leaned forward, his soft
lips fluttering over mine. "Jack, you're beautiful to me. You always will
be, because I love you. Now come on. I've missed having you in the shower
with me."

The shower had always been a fun place for Josh and I, a place where we had
tender moments. It was also a place where we had some pretty hot sex,
although I wasn't up for that yet on that first shower. I was up for it
now, though, but we didn't have time for that, as Josh had pointed out. I
sighed as I felt his hands kneading my back as he washed, massaging it. I
was putting muscle back on, was getting back to my previous shape or maybe
even a little better, and it was nice to have Josh appreciate it, like he
had last night. Of course, I'd appreciated him, too, several times if I
remembered correctly, but it was nice to feel sexy again.

"I didn't hear you get up this morning," Josh said, reaching around to
scrub at my chest.  "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting to talk about it. I needed to, though, and
he knew it. Josh leaned into me, and rested his head on my shoulder,
letting me feel his support as his arms circled me. "Just more of the
usual."

"Bad dreams?" Josh asked, not scrubbing me anymore, just holding me. I felt
his chest press against my back, rising and falling with his breathing, and
I closed my eyes, leaning on him.

"Yeah," I answered, feeling very small and weak suddenly. Josh was here for
me, but in my dreams I was alone.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Josh asked, stroking my shoulders
soothingly with his fingers.

"Like I said, it was just more of the usual," I said. "I was there, again,
there in the basement. I knew he was watching, and I could hear him, hear
that voice through the speaker again. He kept saying things, things about
you not loving me, things about you not coming. I didn't get out this time,
Josh."

"But you got out for real, Jack," Josh whispered, holding me.

"I know," I said, feeling tears slide down my face. "But in my dream I
never do."

I didn't have nightmares every night, but when I did they were always bad,
always variations on the same themes. Sometimes I starved in the room,
becoming more and more helpless. Sometimes I got out, but Basil overpowered
me and forced me back in.  Sometimes Basil crawled down the hallway after
me while I was calling the police, and believed that I was safe. I talked
to my doctors about all of this, and to the rather expensive shrink that
Josh was paying for, and for the most part I talked to Josh about them,
too, but there were some dreams I didn't share with Josh. Sometimes in my
dreams I got out of the basement and found Josh and Justin together
upstairs.  Sometimes when I was in the living room it wasn't Basil who came
down the stairs. Sometimes it was Justin, and sometimes, on the worst
nights, it was Josh. When I woke up Josh usually woke up with me, holding
me, kissing me, telling me it was ok, and that I was safe. If he didn't
wake up, I still reached out for him, or pressed myself against him,
comforted by knowing he was there.

The nightmares weren't my only problem, either. I also had little panic
attacks, unpredictably and without warning. The doctor wanted to put me on
anti-anxiety medicine, but I was reluctant to take any drugs that would
play with my mind. Sometimes I couldn't take any drugs at all, couldn't
bring a pill, or even a vitamin, near my mouth without breaking out in a
sweat. If I heard a voice over an intercom, sometimes it made me jump, made
my heart race as I had a flash of being in the basement again.  Sometimes I
couldn't eat, couldn't touch any food unless I made it myself, because my
brain would insist that it could be drugged, even though I knew it
wasn't. I didn't go anywhere alone anymore. If one of the guys, or Howie or
Vlada, couldn't go with me, I had a bodyguard at all times. It cut in on my
privacy a little, but if I didn't have someone nearby I became very nervous
and panicky, jumping at every noise, sometimes feeling hands grab the back
of my shirt again even if no one was there.

My last problem was one that Josh and I had only talked about a few
times. I talked about it with my therapist a little, and had talked to
Chris and Joey about it, too, but no one seemed to feel the same way I
did. I had guilt over what I had done to Basil Morgan. It didn't matter how
many times everyone told me it was life or death, or that I had no choice,
or even that he deserved it. I had turned another human being into a
vegetable. He would never stand trial for what he'd done, would never be
able to explain to me exactly why he'd done it, although I thought I
knew. I would never be able to ask him what he was thinking, what he felt,
how he could hate me so much, because he was never going to be able to
answer. He spent over a week in a coma, clinging to life. When he finally
had awakened, he was in an almost complete catatonic state. He reacted to
stimuli, and sometimes made noises, but he was completely unable to care
for himself. I went to see him before we left Los Angeles, and the nurses
told me he had the mind of an infant.  There was nothing behind the dull
shine of his eyes, no awareness, and his eyes themselves didn't even follow
my hand when I waved it in front of his face.

For all intents and purposes, I had lobotomized another human being with a
frying pan.  He had taken away my freedom, and I had taken away everything
from him in exchange.  I was haunted by the idea that he was still aware,
that maybe his mind was trapped, screaming, inside his body, but my visit
had assured me it wasn't true.  Whatever he had been, whoever, was
gone. The body might still be there, but I had more or less murdered
another human being. I hadn't told anyone but the shrink about standing
over Basil with the frying pan and deciding whether or not I wanted to kill
him. I hadn't told Josh how part of me thought it was the right thing to
do, and how close I had come. I didn't even want to think about it, didn't
ever want to go back to that place. I may have decided not to kill him, not
to swing the pan one more time, but it really didn't matter. I had already
snuffed out Basil Morgan, and that was something no one else could ever
understand.

I had killed, and nothing could change it. Nothing could take it away from
me, or make it better. Nothing could make me who I was before, and nothing
could bring back the life I had removed. No matter how vile a person he
was, how evil and misguided and genuinely cruel, his life shouldn't have
been mine to take. I had to live the rest of my life knowing I had murdered
another human being, and some days all I could do was run the entire thing
through my mind, over and over, and try to think of what I could have done
differently. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to kill, and I had.
Even if the state, and the law, agreed that I hadn't acted in a criminal
manner, I couldn't tell myself that. I would always know that there had
been a few seconds there in that hot kitchen when I thought about raising
the pan one more time. I could never tell Josh that, for those few seconds,
I could see myself bringing it down again, and again, and smiling while I
did it.  I could never tell any of my friends.

"What are you thinking?" Josh asked quietly, still holding me and running
his hands back and forth over my shoulders.

"How much I love you," I said, turning around to kiss him. "Now it's my
turn with the sponge."

"Are you sure you're ok?" Josh asked, kissing me again. His little beard
scraped over my chin, and his firm tongue pushed its way inside my mouth,
sliding over mine.

"Getting more ok by the day," I answered, smiling, and it was true.

I had spent two weeks in the hospital. I wasn't sure if I really needed to
be there, but Josh and the guys were in this full out protective mode, and
Dr. Swan just kept going along with it. Mainly they all seemed interested
in just feeding me, over and over, like something out of a gluttonous
nightmare. Every time I turned around the nurse was bringing me a protein
shake, or another tray of food, or something. A nutritionist made sure that
I wasn't just loading up on garbage, although Joey tried several times to
bring in fast food and pizza.

The guys were amazing the whole time I was there. After Josh and I
officially got engaged again Chris, Lance, and Howie had returned from the
stores with everything they thought I needed. They brought a couple board
games, so that they'd have something to do with me when we sat around the
room waiting for me to be released, and some random books and magazines for
when I was there by myself, which actually never happened. If Josh left,
Chris stayed, or Joey, or Lance and Howie. Vlada had to fly to Europe for
some work, so I didn't get to see her again while I was in the hospital,
but I made sure to send her some really nice, really expensive flowers to
thank her for the makeover. I was going to send her some candy, but didn't
know if models ate that.

Justin came at odd times, usually when no one else was there. I figured he
must check them with Chris or something, since I was so rarely alone. He
never stayed for very long, just stopped in to bring me a book, or a
present. He looked tired a lot, and when he talked it was always in a low
voice. Several times he kept his sunglasses on, claiming the lights in here
were way too bright. I knew he was still having trouble with this, but I
didn't want to push him, or make it worse. Still, he didn't look good, even
if he was trying to project a front for everyone else. I didn't know if the
guys were buying it, but I sure wasn't.

"Justin, did you shower today?' I asked one day when he came in at three in
the afternoon, smelling of smoke and looking a little disheveled. I was
sure he'd slept in his clothes.

"No," he answered, grinning at me beneath his cowboy hat. "I just got up."

"Late night?" I asked, knowing none of the others had been out last night.
I'd already seen them all today.

"Yeah, another one," he answered, looking away. There was a flash of
something on his face, but he pushed it away immediately, turning back to
me with his old, charming, Justin grin. "You should have seen the girls I
brought home, though."

"Girls?" I asked, giggling. "Are you following in Chris's footsteps?"

"I don't know," he answered, giggling along with me. "Has he ever been with
three at once? And they were hot, too, Jack. Strippers."

"You brought home girls from a strip club?" I asked, imagining the bad
press that could leak out on this one. I mentally smacked myself right
after that for even thinking such a thing. I was getting more like our
publicist every day, whether I wanted to or not.

"Hey, everybody wants a little piece of me, Jack," Justin said, leaning
back cockily in his chair. "I'm happy to oblige."

I sighed, wondering if it was my place to say anything or not. I didn't
want to see Justin sliding back to the way he had been, and it looked more
and more like he was back on that path. If I said something, I might be
able to pull him back, but I might also just push him further along, and I
didn't want that, either. I really wanted Justin to be happy, to meet
someone special, but it wasn't going to happen. Justin already had someone
he cared about, and Josh was with me.

"Justin, are you ok?" I asked, figuring that was a safe opening. "I mean,
you've been going out a lot lately, like every night. Is there anything
wrong?"

Justin shrugged, his face carefully blank.

"Maybe I just feel like going out and having some fun," he answered
finally, but neither one of us looked like we believed it. I stared,
waiting, and Justin shrugged again. "I don't want to talk about it, ok,
Jack? I know you're trying to help, but I'm fine."

"OK," I said quickly. "And I don't want to sound like a mom, but at least
tell me you're being careful?"

Justin laughed.

"Don't you worry about that," he said. "There won't be any bastard
Timberlakes running around."

"That's not what I mean, exactly, but thanks," I said, grinning back at
him.  "The one of you we have is handful enough, thanks again."

We both laughed, and some of the tension drained out of the room. I decided
to bring up the other thing I'd been curious about, since I thought the two
might be linked.

"So, Justin," I began carefully. "What exactly do you do with three girls?
I mean, you only have one dick."

"Jack, I didn't think you were interested in straight stuff," Justin
answered, smiling at me curiously.

"I'm not, trust me," I said, holding up my hands. "That just seems like a
lot of willing vagina in one room with just you, all by yourself."

Justin was still smiling that quizzical half grin as he looked at me, his
head cocked to the side. His eyes ticked around the room, taking in the
stack of newspapers on my bed table, and I saw him put it together.

"Been reading the papers, Jack?" he asked, settling back in his chair. He
didn't sound mad. "You could just ask, you know. You and I are close enough
for that."

"I wasn't sure if there was anything to ask about, but apparently there
is," I answered, crossing my arms. "Is there something you'd care to share
with the rest of the class, Justin? I see that you're spending a lot of
time hitting clubs with a Mr.  Nick Carter."

Justin sighed, and then crossed the room, closing my door. He returned to
the bedside, pulling his chair up closer.

"Jack, can I talk to you? As a friend?" he asked. I nodded. "Can you
promise not to tell any of the guys, not even Josh?"

Oooh, that was a tough one.

"Justin, I don't mind not telling the guys, but you know how I feel about
keeping things from Josh," I said. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me, if it's
something you can't tell him."

Justin's lips pursed as he thought about this for a second, and I wondered
how serious things with Nick actually were if he had to stop and think
about it.

"Jack, it's not something I can't tell him," Justin began, folding his
hands on his lap as I leaned forward a little. "I just don't want to, ok?"

"Justin, what's going on?" I asked. "Are you worried that Josh would be
upset if, you know, you and Nick had something going on? Because we want
you to be happy, Justin, even if it is with Nick."

I wished I hadn't said that, but the words were already out of my mouth.
Justin smirked at me.

"I see you've been talking to Howie," he said. He wasn't mad, and I was
glad again that Justin and I were comfortable enough with each other to
talk honestly about things.

"Justin, I'm sorry," I said, shrugging. "I'll admit, I don't know Nick. I
met him one time, and it was just long enough to shake his hand and say
hi. Joey and Chris told me once that Nick's slept with everything, but, you
know, it's not like Joey and Chris are spotless.  They meant it as a joke,
but Howie really, really doesn't like him, Justin."

"Maybe Howie's not the best judge of character," Justin said, shrugging.
Justin might have a point, as I'd been told that Howie had also popped
Justin in the face and kicked the shit out of him while I was gone. I
looked at Justin, waiting. "OK, they have some history, but that's Howie
and Nick's problem, not mine."

"What exactly is their problem?" I asked. "If, you know, it's ok to tell
me."

"Well, Howie wanted to come out, you know, like Josh did," Justin said.
"They talked about it, and the guys decided not to do it, and it was mostly
Nick who argued against it, because of their image and stuff. So Howie
keeps bringing it up, and Nick keeps shooting it down, and they bicker all
the time."

"But why does Nick care?" I asked, confused. "I mean, you haven't said it,
but you and Nick kind of have something going on, right?"

"We're good friends," Justin answered, grinning. "With benefits."

"Good for you," I said, slapping his arm.

"Yeah, it's pretty hot," Justin said, grinning still, and blushing a
little.

"But if you and Nick have something going on, then what's his issue with
Howie?" I asked. "I mean, he's obviously ok with, you know, man-lovin'."

Justin laughed at my weak joke.

"Nick's ok with anything, as long as it stays behind closed doors," Justin
said, and I wondered what, exactly, "anything" consisted of. "Howie wants
to be out in the open, and Nick doesn't, and that's why they bicker."

I thought about this, and it kind of made sense. Lance had told me once
about the conversation he overheard Nick and Howie having the night Josh
came out, and it kind of made sense when you thought about it this
way. Nick didn't have a problem with what Howie was doing. He just didn't
want him to do it in front of everyone, which, considering their line of
work, wasn't a really unreasonable stance. Since Lance didn't want to be
out right now, anyway, I didn't really see why Howie would keep fighting
with Nick about it, unless Howie didn't care what Lance wanted, or Lance
had changed his mind.

"Justin, if you can tell me all of this, why not Josh?" I asked. "He'll
listen, Justin, I know he will. Like I said, we want you to be happy, and
if you want to build something with Nick, Josh won't mind."

"Yeah, but see, that's why I don't want to talk to Josh about it," Justin
said. "Jack, I'm not building something with Nick. We're not having this
deep, meaningful relationship where we share quiet moments and romantic
interludes. We don't look into each other's eyes and think about our
souls. Instead we go out, and we pick up girls, and then we bring them back
to the hotel and we fuck them. Sometimes we bring back guys.  Sometimes we
don't bring back anyone, and I just fuck Nick. That's my whole
relationship, Jack. We drink, we party, and we fuck, and I don't want Josh
to know about that, ok? When Josh looks at me, he thinks I'm special."

"Justin," I said, taking his hand. "You are special."

"Yeah, but I'm not the way that Josh thinks, and I don't want him to know
about this," Justin said.

"Justin, if that's all this is, why are you even doing it?" I asked. "This
can't be what you want to do with the rest of your life."

"It's not, Jack," Justin agreed, squeezing my hand. "But it's what I want
right now, and I think you know why. Right now I feel bad, and when I think
about Josh, it hurts me.  When I'm with Nick, he distracts me. I don't
think about what you have, and what I don't. I don't want to feel bad,
Jack. I don't want to feel anything, and I don't want to explain that to
Josh, because it'll just upset him."

"But you'll explain it to me?" I asked. He wasn't trying to hurt me, I knew
that. Justin and I had been completely honest about Justin and Josh, and it
gave us a kind of bond. It also made me really protective of him.

"Jack, I love Josh, and you, too, but you're not like him," Justin said.
"You're harder inside than he is, and if I tell you this, you're not going
to come down on me like he will.  Josh'll give me a lot of speeches, and I
know you won't. Right now, this is what I want to do, and I know it's not
what you or Josh would want, but could you just accept it, because you're
my friend?"

"Yeah, Justin, I can do that," I said, holding my arms out. He leaned in
for a quick hug.

"I'm gonna go, ok?" Justin said, standing. "The guys'll be back from lunch
soon, and Howie and I aren't on the best terms."

"OK," I said. "But Justin, Josh is worried about you. Even if you don't
want to talk to him about this, could you please, you know, spend a little
time with him?  He's worried that you're pushing him away."

"I am," Justin said, shrugging. "I can't help it. It hurts me to be around
him, Jack. I know it's not his fault, but right now I just can't. OK?"

"OK," I sighed, wondering how we could make this better.

"Jack?" Josh asked, startling me from my memories. "You've washed the same
part of my back about ten times now."

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head, blinking.

"What are you thinking about?" Josh asked, turning back to me as he reached
for the shampoo.

"Nothing," I answered. "Nothing. Just, you know, us and the guys."

"Speaking of, we need to finish up and get dressed if we're going to make
breakfast," Josh said.

"Then let's hurry," I said, grinning. I started lathering up his hair while
he did mine at the same time, our arms sliding over each other. "I love
you."

"I love you, too," Josh answered.

But what were we going to do about Justin?

***

To be continued.