Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2000 22:28:59 -0700 From: Dayse Craze Subject: "Superman Can't Fly" - part 3 Disclaimer: All characters, situations, and stories portrayed are fictional, and absolutely untrue. I do not know of the sexual orientation of any of those mentioned, except Anthony (ew) and really...I have no interest in knowing because it's none of my darn business. Warning: This story contains m/m interaction, bad language, violence, blah blah blah :) Thanks: Thank you, thank you, thank you to all those who have e-mailed me with feedback. I realize that a lot of authors say this, but feedback really is the fuel that keeps a writer going :) So, thank you, I very much appreciate your time and effort. Side note: Colleen? I tried to e-mail you back, but I got an error return message :p Hotmail, me thinks, is being evil again. ========================== Superman Can't Fly By Dayse ========================== Justin glanced at the door for the fifth time in the past ten minutes and let out a grunt of impatience. "Aw, screw Chris, man. I'm not waiting." He popped the movie into the VCR and sat back as the screen went black before starting. He clapped his hands together in anticipation, "Alright!" "I wonder what's taking him so long," JC mused, watching the screen as well. "How long does it take to change pants?" "Ah, he's probably talking to Lance, maybe he can convince him to come back down here." Joey stood and went into the kitchen. "I'll make some popcorn, anyone want another drink?" "Beer me." "Same here," Justin said. "We can always rewind for Chris," he added. For the next hour, they watched the movie with the silence being broken only by laugher and sly remarks. Joey and JC remained on the couch together while Justin sat on the floor in front of them, his legs splayed out and tears running down his face from laughter. Half-way through, Joey reached over to put his arm easily around the other man, not anything he hadn't done before but it seemed more intimate now, more personal, and JC moved in a little closer. He glanced at his watch, suddenly eager for the flick to end so he could send Justin away and be alone with Joe. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the credits rose up and the modest audience clapped its approval. "I swear, I see something new in that movie every time," Justin said, standing and stretching. He shook his head, "Too bad Chris missed it, I wonder why he didn't show." Yawning, Joey shrugged, "Probably changed his mind at the last minute." "I guess. Well, I'm beat, dudes, time to hit the sack." Leaning over, Justin gave Joey a quick, brotherly hug, "Keep it real, man, just one more day and that bad dude will be outta our lives forever." If only it were that easy, Joey thought bleakly, but outwardly he smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Just, right." Waving a final goodbye to both, Justin walked out, closing the door behind him. JC smiled, turned to Joe. "Do we have to be awkward now?" "I won't be if you won't." Joey returned the smile. "But I was kinda surprised. I never would of thought that..." "What?" JC prodded, moving a little closer to him. "That I'd be attracted to you? That I would be interested in men?" Joey shrugged, "All of the above?" JC considered, "Truth is Joe, I'm not really interested in other men, just you. Maybe it's cause we're as close as we are, or because you're so happy and easy going about stuff that usually makes other people all uptight...you bring it out in people around you...I love you, Joey. You know that. And this feels...good." He shifted in closer to back up his point and played with a button on Joey's shirt. "Is it okay that I feel like just being with you? How you dealin' with it?" The answer was never given. Justin burst back through the door, everything about him shouting that he was near panic. The knees of his jeans were stained with blood, so were his hands. He didn't even register what was happening on the couch in front of his very eyes, his words were forced out with the pounding of his heart. "911!!! CALL 911!" Justin had found him in the elevator, had seen him, really, from the hallway. Chris' hand, which had fallen in between the doors, was preventing them from closing. It rested in a pool of blood that was blooming from underneath the sunken chest of his broken ribs as it blossomed underneath him. That late at night, Justin had been the first to find him. Now, they all sat in a private waiting room at Mercy hospital, each lost in their own thoughts, each falling deeper and deeper in a cold, unforgiving panic. If Chris was dead...how could anything be right ever again? "This isn't happening," Justin mumbled, his leg bouncing erratically, "No. This isn't happening, this isn't happening..." Lance tried to put a comforting arm around him but it was shrugged off roughly, Justin didn't even seem to realize he had done it. "Not happening, no, no..." "Chris'll be fine," Lance said. His voice sounded so unsure it nearly came out as a question. His hands fell shaking to his side, "He has to. I'd just finished talking to him. He can't die...how can he die?" JC sat stooped over in his chair, his hands covering his mouth grimly, his feet planted firmly on the floor. If he stood, he would pace or run. He didn't want to do either. He wanted to comfort his friends, say something reassuring. But no words came. "Who could of done this?" Justin finally said, his voice a plea for an answer. "What did Chris ever do? Who the FUCK could of done this to him? Oh God... Jesus..." "I know who," Lance's voice was soft, cold. He talked to the room but looked only at Joey. "It was Anthony. Who else would it be? He saw Chris and tried to kill him because of what Joey did to him years ago...It had nothing to do with him. This, like everything else has been for the past two days, was about Joey." Jerking his head up out of his hands, JC looked at Lance in shock. "Hey..." Joey looked as if someone was holding him at gunpoint. Lance continued on, relentless. "You know it's true," his voice shook, "It's YOUR fault if he dies! If you'd just listened to us when we told you to get rid of him, he'd be GONE, and Chris would be FINE!" "HEY! That's enough!" JC got to his feet and stood between the two men. "Lance, what the hell is the matter with you? This isn't Joey's..." "Oh, of course _you_ would defend him," Lance scoffed, his expression one of disgust and fury, "What? You don't like anyone talking trash about your _boyfriend_, Josh?" Justin shook his head, looked back and forth between the three men, "What? Guys...what's going on?" "You're out of line," JC said, through gritted teeth. "We're all upset, Lance, but you're being an asshole." "I'M an asshole? _I_ am?!" Lance pointed to the closed door of the waiting room, where the ER lay just beyond. "Our friend, our _brother_, might DIE tonight because of Joey being a selfish, womanizing BASTARD, and I'M the asshole?!" Still in disbelief over what was being said, Justin continued to shake his head mutely, mouth open in surprise. "What? What?" Joey looked broken, he fell back limply into his chair, too out of it to even leave the room. JC turned to look at him briefly before confronting Lance. His voice was low, a threat. A promise. "Lance, the only thing keeping me from breaking your nose right now is that I know you're upset, and that you're probably going to feel like shit later for all that stuff you said. But I suggest you leave, or all bets are off." Lance stood his ground, "You can't order me around, Josh. Chris is my friend, too, and I'm not going anywhere until I hear how he is." He glared at Joey over JC's shoulder, "I still care about my friends." It was only because of Joey's persistent tugging on his shirt that JC didn't respond, and he sat down next to him, avoiding Lance's eyes. Justin, still confused, didn't push the matter. Whatever it was, it wasn't as important as Chris. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the doctor finally re-appeared, his scrubs dashed with sparks of red blood, like that of a painter. His mask hung limply around his neck and his expression was...unreadable. "How is he?" Lance demanded, getting to his feet first. "Our friend, how is he?" "He was severely beaten," the doctor started. "There are several broken ribs, a broken arm, concussion...and a knife wound to the stomach." The air seemed to get sucked out of the room, no one could breathe, Justin gripped the arm of his chair. "No..." Joey, speaking for the first time, stepped foreword and fought the urge to just shake the answers out of the grim man in blood soaked clothes, "Damn it, just tell us if he's alive!" The doctor blinked, nodded, "Yes, you brought him in just in time. He's alive and breathing on his own." Justin collapsed back into his chair, Lance seemed to deflate with relief. "Can we see him?" JC asked. "You'll have to wait until we move him to a different room, but yes. There was a substantial amount of blood loss, and he's not yet conscious so you'll have to make it brief, he's very weak right now and will have to stay in the hospital for several days yet." The doctor paused. "Also, the police need to talk to all of you. Soon." With these words, the doctor turned and left. Lance turned to face Joey as he spoke, "If you don't tell the cops about Anthony, I will, 'cause Joey..." he took a step towards him, "...I couldn't giving a fuck about your issues right now." He followed the doctor out. Still shaken, Justin also got to his feet, looking way younger then his 19 years. He had tears in his eyes, his expression unsure, "What's Lance talkin' 'bout?" he wavered, "You two...what about Chris? What does this have to do with Chris" Rather then answer, JC reached out to lead Justin gently out the door, "Why don't you go with Lance, huh? We'll talk 'bout this after we see Chris." Too tired to argue, Justin just nodded and left as well. "Joe..." "He's right," Joey said, backing away from JC's touch, "Lance is right. It's my fault Chris got hurt." JC shook his head, "NO.." "YES. My mistake. My past. Anthony beat Chris so he could get to me." He set his jaw, "And, if I hadn't spilled that drink on him, he never would of left. Well, now I'm gonna go find Anthony. I shouldn't of ever let him get close, Josh. That was MY mistake. And I'm going to make it right." Quickly moving to block his path, JC put both his hands on Joey's chest to stop him, "Where you going? You can't go now, it's nearly four in the morning! The cops, Joey, _Chris_. You have to..." "I have to make it right again," Joey said. "_Please_, JC..." "Then let me go with you." "No." Joey shook his head. "I won't put you guys in the middle any more. Besides, the guys need you here. Lance is too mad to think straight, and Justin is cracking up, they need you to hold it together for them." "I can't let you go after him alone, Christ - he's already pounded on you once, and now we know he's willing to KILL." Face blank, Joey was expressionless. "What makes you think I'm not?" It stopped him. The coldness, the bluntness. JC found himself at a momentary loss of words, but he quickly shook it off. "So that's it, huh Joe? The final showdown between Superman and Lex Luther, to the death? That's just fucking perfect." He ran a hand over his face, took in a shaky breath. God, had all this started only two days ago? No, JC realized. For US it started two days ago, it's been following Joe around for eight years. "He hurt Chris," Joey said softly, "Hurt him because of something I did." "And that means what? You kill him? He kills you? What good could POSSIBLY come out of going after him?" JC honestly wanted to hear that answer. Joey shrugged, stared at his feet, "Either way it ends." No. "Joey, it doesn't HAVE to end like that. You don't have to go out like that." JC grabbed Joey by the shoulders and shook him hard, "Use your head! Do this RIGHT! The cops are waiting, _tell them what you know_, what we ALL know happened! They'll arrest Anthony, he'll be laid up with attempted murder charges, and he'll be gone forever!" Bringing a hand up to his head, Joey stared solemnly into JC's eyes, "Not here he won't," he said. He touched his heart, "Or here." "Don't be melodramatic. Think." JC practically growled out the words, "Fuck your pride, Joe, fuck all that shit. USE YOUR HEAD! For once, forget about your gut instinct, you can't go by that all the time. Forget what you feel, forget that. You know what the right choice is here..." "How can I forget what I feel?" Joey's voice held a genuine struggle. "Forget what I _feel_?" "...and what about us? Justin, Chris, Lance...me? If you go out there looking for Anthony, you're hurting ALL of us." JC's eyes were bright with unshed tears, "How do you feel about that? What does your gut tell you to do there?" Lance hung up the phone with Stan and rubbed his eyes tiredly, that was the last of the phone-calls. He had called Chris' parents and family, the tour doctor, Stan, and even the producer. Anyone else who needed to know would find out from them, Lance was done playing 'organizer' for the night. He didn't have the energy to do anything more then worry. He leaned back against the wall next to the phone, and closed his eyes. Justin was in with Chris right now, in the room just one hallway down, the poor guy was really freaking out, and who could blame him? What it must of been like to find Chris' body, laying there, covered in blood....Justin wouldn't of known if he was dead or alive. Lance swallowed hard, pushed himself away from the wall and buried his shaking hands deep into his jean pockets. Would they ever recover from this? The sound of muted arguing from the waiting room drew Lance' attention away for a moment from Chris. He could just make out JC's voice yelling something, but he could not hear Joey's reply to whatever was being said. Joey. Lance squeezed his eyes shut tight. Was it love? Did he love Joey? Well, yes, of course he did. But was it the kind of love that he had for Chris, or Justin, or Josh? No. No, it was something different. Not that it mattered now, whatever option could of been available before, certainly wasn't now. Joey was with JC. He had seen it with his own eyes, seen them together, about to kiss on the couch. What had happened after they had been left alone? It hurt to think about, so Lance stubbornly blocked the thought away. More yelling from the room and Lance wondered if they were arguing about him, and what he had said. He flinched in remembrance, the look on Joey's face as he spat out the hateful words was as clear as a photograph in his mind's eye. He had been angry, upset, scared - it had come out all _wrong_. And now, Joey probably hated him, and JC was just sick of the sight of him. The door to the waiting room opened and Joey stormed out, his jacket gripped tightly in one hand and a determined look on his face. He walked by Lance without even realizing that the other man was there. JC watched from the doorway, his own expression unreadable, but Lance thought he saw some flicker of emotion there, akin to fear. JC looked his way, and the two men shared a silent moment. "Where's Chris?" JC finally said. Inclining his head in the proper direction, Lance cleared his throat and wiped the back of his sleeve across his face. "316. Come on, I'll go with you." Sitting mutely in a chair, as close to the bed as possible, Justin held both his hands over Chris', squeezing it as tight as he dared. It was taped and IVed, bandaged from the wrist to the elbow. That was his right arm. His left was in a cast and sling, crooked in against his chest, and his fingers seemed to be pale, white bones poking through an oversized white arm. His left eye was swollen over blue, his cheek cut from jaw to eyebrow, and his lips split, tinged red with blood. The hospital gown covered any other injuries, and the worst one - the knife wound. A hard, jagged line that had been cut into his stomach, the one that had been meant to kill him. "...but it didn't kill you," Justin said, his voice hoarse, "Come on, Chris...come _on_..." There were bruises on both sets of knuckles, indicating that Chris had fought back, and Justin smiled privately at the knowledge. "Yeah, bro, you go boy." Machines beeped all around, an IV dripped a clear solution into his body. His hair was still matted with blood. Justin tried to squeeze some of his own life into Chris, his hand felt too cold to be healthy. He flashed back to that moment in the elevator when he had run to Chris' side, had knelt down next to him and shook him while calling his name. It was like remembering through a fog, Justin felt numb, as if he had not been through it himself but had rather watched it happen from somewhere far away. Chris had been so still, so cold. So, so dead. At least, that's what Justin had thought. But, apparently, the doctors were saying otherwise, and Justin promised himself that he would not give up that way on Chris again, not ever. When the door opened, Justin didn't turn, only barely registered it. But he did hear the sharp intake of breath, the whispered, 'oh my God', and he closed his eyes. "He'll be _fine_," he said, his voice steady, unwilling to believe anything else. "Chris...you're gonna be alright, buddy, come on, wake up..." JC came to stand on Justin's right, Lance on his left, and for a moment the three were silent, the only sound in the room the steady beep of the surrounding machines. Justin looked up, "Where's Joey?" There was nothing. Then a voice sounded from the door, prompting everyone to turn and look. "I'm right here." Joey came up behind Justin and put his hands lightly on his shoulders, his eyes skidded over the bed where Chris lay, lingering on his unconscious face. "Oh damn. Chris..." "How'd it go?" JC asked. Lance glanced over curiously. "The cops are out looking for him now," Joey said, his voice devoid of emotion as he continued to stare at his friend, "If they find him, and if Chris collaborates the story when he wakes up, Anthony's gonna be put away for a long time. They wanted to talk to me some more, all I really did was give them a name, but I told them it would have to wait." JC rested a reassuring hand on Joey's shoulder and squeezed, "You did the right thing, Joey." He shook his head, "Yeah, for all the good it'll do." "It'll help Chris, when he wakes up." Justin said softly. He blinked and turned away from the man in the bed, looked up at the others. "You guys gonna tell me what's going on or what? Lance, what the hell were you talking about before?" Hesitating to answer, knowing that it had been a mistake to throw something that personal in their face at such a vulnerable moment, Lance said nothing, his face revealing his conflict. But Justin deserved to hear _something_. "Nothing, I was just being a jackass," he mumbled, not looking at Joey or JC, "Don't worry about it." But then Joey spoke up. "Actually, Just, me and JC are kinda...it's hard to explain. We're working stuff through..." at JC's agreeable nod, he continued, "...I'm not sure how I can say it so it makes sense..." Justin's eyes widened, he whipped his head back and forth between the two, "You're - you're...DATING?" "Jesus Christ, Just, it's not as if we're fucking pinned or anything. It's complicated," Joey said. He frowned, glared at JC, but there was no real anger in it, "You gonna help me out here, Josh?" JC shook his head, managed a smile, "No, I say anything I might sound as stupid as you." "You calling me stupid?!" The rib and retort were both half-hearted, but everyone seemed to get some relief from the familiar routine. "Yes, I am. You're also loud, annoying, and have funny shaped legs," he smirked. Justin let out a bark of incredulous laughter before turning back to address Chris. "You hear that, bro? See what happens when you leave 'em alone for just a minute?" There was another period of quiet as they all stood silently, lost in their own thoughts. At some point, JC reached over and took hold of Joey's hand, grasping it tightly in his own, and ran his thumb lightly over the wrist. Lance saw the gesture and quickly turned away, "Excuse me," he rasped out, "I - I gotta get some air." He was in the hall with the door closed before they could reply, and he sagged against a coke machine, banging a fist into it harshly. He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't deal with seeing them together everyday, knowing that he screwed up a relationship that could of been his own. The only saving grace was that Joey still seemed oblivious. He still didn't seem to know. Or maybe he did, maybe he did know and he and JC laughed good and long about it when they were alone. After all, JC had known, he had been the first one to call Lance on his feelings about Joey. The thought angered him. JC had known. He had known how Lance had felt but then he had gone ahead after Joey anyway. What kind of friend was he? But, no, Lance realized. That wasn't fair to JC, it wasn't his fault that his life was a total train wreck. And if JC had feelings for Joey, then why shouldn't he be able to pursue them? Lance had never told him not to. Slumping into a plastic chair nearby, trying to hold back tears of anger and frustration, Lance bit hard into his bottom lip and buried his face in his hands. Chris had tried to tell him. It had been the last thing he had said to him before leaving him earlier that night. Take a chance, do something about it. And in that way, JC had done what Lance had been too scared, too confused, to do. The door to the waiting room opened but Lance didn't move. He knew who it was without having to look up. The foot fall was distinct, as was just the mere presence of the other man as he stood over him. "I didn't know." Said softly. Lance swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Would it of made a difference?" "I can't answer that." Joey let out a soft exhault of breath. "Lance, please. At least _look_ at me." "I can't." Leaning down in front of him, Joey grabbed hold of both wrists tightly before pulling them away from Lance's face, then held them gently in his own. "Why didn't you say anything?" It was scary. Why was Joey doing this? Why pursue something that would never happen anyway, why make it so much harder then it had to be? Lance searched deeply for an answer, not only for Joey's peace of mind but for his own. All he could come up with was a simple, truthful, "I don't know." A sympathetic, thoughtful contemplation crossed his face and Joey let the look between them linger for a moment. He stood, pulled Lance gently up, "Come up with me to the roof. We can't go out front or back, there's a bunch of press and fans waiting on word about Chris. The air in here is stuffy." His feet moved of their own accord and Lance followed Joey to the elevator, taking a bit of guilty pleasure in keeping hold of the other man's hand. Joey didn't mind. He smiled a little. Sometime during the night it had rained. The black asphalt on the roof was shiny with water, and a thin, white mist rose up from it as the hot Florida air met with the cool ground. It was as if someone had dumped a truckload of dry ice at their feet, creating what could of been the setting for a scary movie. There was a landing block squared off for emergency helicopters, and the surrounding lights around it were currently off. Nearby, a small, brick control house stood silent and dark, no bigger then the size of a normal hotel room, its roof adorned with variously sized antenas. The city lights leaked up over the edge, bathing them with its electric, yellow glow. Glancing at Joey in the near dark, Lance noticed that he seemed more subdued then usual. Calmer. It was a calm that probably came with finally being rid of a past demon, now that Anthony was out of their lives for good. He could not evade the police forever, especially considering who his victim had been. Stan would make sure that the whole thing took place under the vibrant glow of an NSYNC spotlight, turning Anthony into ten times the monster he was. As for Joey... Lance mused over this last thought with an ironic twist to his lips. Joey. This would be hard on him, his past would be splayed out for all to see, the reporters would dig and dig until they found what they were looking for. But, ultimately, he would come out as the hero, the Superman, even as Joey felt like anything but. In that sense, Lance supposed, Joey had gotten what he wanted from Anthony whether he admitted it or not, he would be punished where it hurt him the most: His pride. And isn't that what Joey really wanted? Isn't that why he had been taking Anthony's crap? He just wanted to pay for what he had done. It was both honorable and stupid. "You're being pretty quiet," Joey said as he walked to the edge of the roof and looked out over the city. The ledge came up to more then Joey's shins. "You're the one that brought me out here to talk," Lance countered. "So why don't you talk?" Joey paused. "I got nothing left to say. I'm...I'm all talked out." He turned and sat on the edge, his back to the 20 story drop and his eyes seemed to shine from the city's lights, "But I got a feeling that you got plenty to say, Lance. So why don't you spill?" "You know it all now, Joe. I don't have to say it." Lance took a step back, it was a struggle to keep eye contact, with Joey looking at him the way that he was. "I don't want to make things difficult for you and JC, you've had a hard enough few days." Why was he doing this? Couldn't Joey see that Lance was near losing all control? He had kept it together for too long, Lance could feel every bottled up emotion pushing against the surface of his skin, screaming to be released. "This isn't about JC," he said. "This is about us." Curious, Lance felt a spike of confidence and hope, "There's an 'us'?" "There's always been an us." Joey bit his lip, and got the look on his face that he always had when he was thinking very carefully about his next words. It was strange. Joey, one of the most talkative of the group while in private, barely spoke out during interviews, but when he did, he always wore _that look_. "Lance, I guess I owe you some sort of explanation, I'm thinking I probably owe all you guys one. Thing is, I honestly never considered it an issue, but with these last couple of days and the secrets that I've been keeping...I've come to realize that that sort of thing helps nobody. I'm not afraid or ashamed of who I am. "There are two sides to everyone I suppose. And with us being so big all of a sudden, maybe I kept a few secrets 'cause I wanted to keep some things just to myself." Joey smiled slyly, "Or at least keep you guessing." He sighed, tired. "I _am_ bisexual. I realized that a long time ago, and it's never anything I've had a real problem with. Sure, I didn't exactly go around announcing it to the world, but...I never understood those who were afraid to admit it, you know? I mean, it didn't make sense to me to deny something that important about yourself. But I'm not stupid, I understand the prejudices that are out there, so I guess I don't plan on marching in any parades either." Lance raised an eyebrow, "I'd like to see how Stan would react to that, though." He took a breath, "You didn't think that any of _us_ would have a problem with it, did you?" Joey shook his head, "No," he said without hesitation. "I didn't. It wasn't about that. I just...I don't know, I guess I kinda figured that you all knew, without me having to tell you." He shrugged sheepishly, "Come on, Lance, I wasn't exactly being stuble." "I think we all thought that was just... you being you." God, Joey, if only you knew how out of my mind confused you can make me. "It was," Joey smiled, "and I don't plan on changing my colours any time soon. I did kinda get that you all wondered though, and that's my fault that I didn't make it clearer to you," his smile faded. "Maybe if I did, then we wouldn't have this problem right now." Avoiding Joey's eyes, Lance played anxiously with the sleeve of his denim jacket, "We don't have a problem, Joe, I'm gonna stay out of your and JC's way." For both our sakes, he added silently. This is going to be so hard... "You know what I mean." Lance opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it again. Joey continued, "I didn't know that you had these feelings for me. How long has this been going on?" When Lance didn't answer right away, Joey got to his feet and walked over, put a hand out on his shoulder and rubbed it gently. His face loomed in close, Lance could see the bruising on his jaw even in the near dark, he was that close. Joey was always close, he was always touching, smiling, holding his body like it was some sort of loaded gun. Did he know? Did he do it on purpose? Which would be worse? Feeling every bone in his body ache, Lance quickly shrugged away, taking broken steps back. "Goddamn it, Joey!" Taken off guard by the reaction, Joey's eyes widened and he jerked his hand away as if scalded. "Lance? Sorry, I didn't - " "That's EXACTLY the sort of thing that's driving me crazy, Joe! What I can't TAKE! You're always touching, leaning in close, letting me know what it could be like...FUCK! You're a Goddamn tease and you don't even realize it!" Suddenly taken over by an inexplicable fury, Lance rushed foreword and grabbed Joey by the front of his shirt, spun him around and pushed him as hard as he could against the wall of the small brick control house that was situated on the roof. "You push, and you push, and you push," Lance ranted on, not letting go, his words breathless, "and you expect it to just roll off people?! Just like THAT?! You touch, you kiss, you tease, I've seen you bring people to their knees with just your fucking BREATH on their NECK, and then you just walk away like it's NOTHING! And who knows, maybe to them it's just a harmless night, but...damn you, Joe, don't you realize what you to do to me every time I'm in the same room with you!?" Lance didn't know what kind of answer he wanted to hear, didn't know what Joey could say or do at that moment to possibley make it okay for him. His hands were still fisted in his shirt, and his body pinned Joey's to the wall. Both men's breathing was ragged, they were inches away from each other's face, and Joey seemed not to recognize the man in front of him. Lance wasn't too sure he recognized himself. But he felt good, as in control as he had been before this whole confusion had started. //"..do something about it."// Chris' words came back to him, and they seemed profound, religious. Yes, Lance thought. Do something... "Lance..." Joey's voice seemed a mix of both anticipation and warning, it was faint and far away, Lance ignored it. He kissed him. Lips, soft and wet against his own seemed to hesitate, even tremble a little before they parted under the insistent probing of his tongue, and Lance let go of Joey's shirt, moving his hands around Joe's back to his waist to pull him even closer. Their bodies pressed together, and Lance moaned at the contact, shifting his hips to intensify the feeling. It was as he kissed him that Lance realized for the past couple of days he had been fooling himself. These feelings he'd been having for Joey weren't anything new, they had been there forever. But now, as they rushed out of his mouth with the kiss, everything inside of him hummed with pleasure, it was like a floodgate had been released, and Lance felt both relieved and dizzy with a desire he had kept buried for so long. It was Joey who pulled away first, their mouths parting with a light "smack" of wetness, and his head thudded lightly against the brick of the wall. Lance opened his eyes only to see that Joey's remained closed, and there was an odd expression on his face. It reminded Lance of a man who had just plunged his burning hand into a bucket of ice water. Relief, with an underlining pain. He stroked the side of Joey's face, the roughness of his goatee scraping across his fingers in a pleasantly foreign sensation. Joey finally opened his eyes and looked at him, there was conflict there, intense enough to give Lance second thoughts. Palms that had been pressed flatly against the wall moved up to touch Lance's waist, to hold the other man loosely, and Joey watched them move as if they didn't belong to him. Then, suddenly, Lance jerked in his grasp. An abrupt, spasming upward thrust of his body that made him crumple against Joe just as fast. "Lance?" Contorted with surprise and pain, Lance's mouth was open as if to cry out, but all that came out was a weak gurgle vaguely resembling Joey's name. Soon, Joey was supporting all of Lance's weight in his arms, but as Lance sank to the floor and a sticky, hot substance leaked in between Joey's fingertips, he let him go and layed him out as gently as he could. Lance's eyes were closed. He didn't move. "I believe that makes it two." Anthony. Joey flicked his eyes up, still half-kneeling by the body of his friend, his hands stained black with blood. The big man held the bloody knife in his right hand, it gleamed silver in the minimal light, and a brilliant streak of red ran up the side of it. It was a little bigger then an ordinary switch blade, and Anthony seemed to take great pleasure and deliberate care in wiping it off on his black jeans. "You called the cops on me," Anthony pointed to Joey with the knife, his voice was a tease, playfully scolding, "Joey, Joey, Joey...I'm disappointed in you. After I finished with your little friend, I was sure you'd come after me yourself. But no, you had to make me go and finish off another one..." He vaguely gestured downwards at Lance's still form. His eyes narrowed. "And who would a thought...Joey- Bear's not as straight and narrow as he would have some believe. Did Sonya even MEAN anything to you, you son of a bitch?" At the mention of her name, Joey felt a familiar guilt pinch his heart, but it was gone before he could fully process it as even having been there. He got to his feet, never letting his eyes leave Anthony's. "Why didn't you just come after me? Why not kill _me_?" He looked frantically down at Lance, he was bleeding from the back, but the wound was close to the side, so it probably had missed any internal organs. "Let me call for help, Anthony, I'm beggin' you, man, then you can do whatever the hell you want with me, just let me help my friend." But Anthony ignored the request, and instead seemed preoccupied with Joey's first question. He brought the tip of the knife up to his chin, let it rest there comfortably. Joey pictured driving it into his jaw, into his brain. "I wanted to make you suffer first. Like you made me suffer when you took away the woman I loved, and my child." He took a step foreword, waved the knife in front of Joey's face. His voice came out as a low, gutteral, growl, "You thinkin' my seeing you at Disney was some sort of fucking _coincidence_?" The enormity of Anthony's plan hit Joey then and he started in shock, "Jesus Christ...you..." "Right after Sonya left town, I went after her, to look for her. Even if she wanted nothing to do with me, she was still carrying MY child. But when they found who's kid it was..." Anthony chuckled and shook his head, looking far away at an unseen point, his focus shifting off Joey for the moment. "Her parents were influencial. Or should I say her _papa_ was. If I hadn't left town, they probably would of gotten my ass hit. "So I wandered New York for a while, keeping outta any serious trouble, but hey - a guy's gotta eat. So I stole cars with this small-time mob boss' corporation, pulled in four, maybe five hundred a week. But when the cops came down, I was one of the first ones busted. They told me they'd reduce my sentence if I co-operated, so I named a few low-ranking losers I had ridden with and got out with only three years in jail." Anthony looked back at Joey who had kneeled down next to Lance again and was holding both hands over the bleeding wound. Lance shifted ever so slightly, but otherwise remained still. Most likely, it was just a reflex to the pain. "Which brings me to you, Joe," Anthony continued. Reaching down, he grabbed Joey by the collar and pulled him roughly to his feet, half choking him with his own shirt as he did it. "All that time in jail I had to think...it kept coming back to you. Your smug, pretty-boy face. And all I could think about was how good it would feel when I got to this moment right now." Pulling him hard, Joey felt his feet leave the ground for the briefest of moments as Anthony yanked him around the roof-top, the knife never more then a few inches away from his face. A punch landed hard in the middle of his stomach and he doubled over in pain as he gasped for breath, sure that he would of fallen over had it not been for Anthony still holding onto him. "Do you have any idea how it pissed me off to see you all over television and in magazines? Rich and famous, and not having a care in the world?" Anthony laughed coldly again, and the blade of the knife nicked playfully at Joey's neck as Anthony held him immboile in a choke-hold. "But, I must remember to thank the good people at Entertainment Weekly, if it hadn't been for them and their helpful 'NSYNC Tour Guide', it would of taken me MUCH longer to track you down." Joey could no longer see Lance's body, Anthony had tugged him too far away. But, from the corner of his eye, he saw an emergency phone hanging on the outside wall of the control house, if he could just get to it... A sharp tug around his neck, and the choke-hold tightened. Joey saw black butterflies dance across his vision and he fell to one knee. The knife was pressed to his cheek, just below his right eye and Joey cried out in pain as it dug in slightly, making blood blossom from the wound as the skin split apart. Moving out of pure instinct, Joey summoned the last of his strength and reached blindly behind him for Anthony's leg. Grabbing him tight, Joey lifted and tossed him off his back where he grunted and landed hard in surprise. Blood ran down his face, and Joey made a dash for the phone, fighting to stay on his feet. But Anthony was already up, and he caught Joey by the waist and rushed him into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of him. A hand grabbed him by the hair and drilled him foreword. Joey's skull bounced off the cold, unforgiving surface, and he fell down fast onto his hands and knees with Anthony standing over him, knife in hand. Joey felt his world start to blacken, the only thing that kept him anchored was the knowledge that Lance could be bleeding to death a few feet away and would most certainly die if he didn't get some help soon. When Anthony reached for him, Joey threw an uppercut as hard as he could, praying that he would hit something. There was a satisfying feeling of his fist meeting soft, giving flesh and as Anthony let out a howl of pain and the knife clattered to the floor, Joey knew he had landed the money shot without having to look up. Reaching up with a bloodied hand for the phone just inches away, Joey blinked against the blood in his eyes. His task of calling for help suddenly seemed much harder, even if Anthony was withering in agony and harmless. Joey's head had been split open, he could feel blood leaking down from two wounds on his face, and he gritted his teeth hard. He wanted to lie down and sleep, but he knew if he did that, he and Lance would both die. Using the wall for leverage, Joey closed his eyes and pulled himself up onto his feet, swaying dizzily as a wave of neausia tossed his stomach. I can do this, he thought to himself. I can do this for Lance...he wouldn't of come up here if it weren't for me. Fuck, I just keep ruining EVERYTHING don't I? His hand touched the phone. It was the most wonderful sensation in the world, that hard plastic reciever in his hand, it was as if he had taken his first deep breath. Joey picked it up and with shaking fingers started to push at the numbers, blinking again and again as the world seemed to fade in and out around him. He couldn't of been sure if he had actually gotten through or not when someone grabbed him from behind - one hand on his neck, one on his arm. He was swung over to the ledge of the roof, then he was dangling over the side, totally dependent on Anthony's grip. He couldn't struggle, couldn't breathe. A drop of blood from his cheek fell and fell until he couldn't see it anymore. Down below, cars, lights and people roamed in front of the hospital enterance. Joey could see a white news van with a satlelight on top. "Nice one, Joey-Bear," Anthony hissed, his voice still thick with pain. "But playing a little dirty, aren't we?" If the situation wasn't what it was, Joey would of laughed. Here this maniac was holding him over the ledge of a roof, and he was talking about playing fair. Unconsciousness didn't seem like such a bad prospect just then. Joey was afraid to move, afraid to struggle for fear that Anthony would drop him all the sooner. "I'm going to enjoy killing you," Anthony said, holding him a little farther off. Joey's toes were now the only thing that remained on the roof as he was hung foreword over the ledge. Anthony gave him a little shake and the pendant that Joey wore around his neck slipped from his shirt and dangled freely against his chest. The silver 'S' glinted in the light. Anthony laughed, "Superman, huh? Well..." leaning in, he licked a smack of blood from Joey's face, and the younger man shuddered with disgust, "let's see if you can fly." ========= TBC Yes, I did this last time too...but I LIKE cliffhangers...provided I'm not on the recieving end that is ;) msjingles@angelfire.com