Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2001 07:07:43 -0800
From: D S <denis141@hotmail.com>
Subject: ALONE/TOGETHER- Chapter 15 ~ Nothing Gold Can Stay

Since the last chapter, despite being rather sweet (to me), also had some
angst, I thought we might as well do a full-on angst chapter.  I managed to
make myself cry writing this one, which is no small feat, so be forewarned.
Alas, no one sends me much email any-more, but I'll put up the address
anyway. Denis141@hotmail.com


DISCLAIMER:  I don't know any member NSYNC, and this story, well, I made the
whole damn thing up.  Yeah, and one more thing, this story has sex in it
(although not as much as some would like), so, if that's not your thing, or
if you ain't old enough, you should stop reading now.


CHAPTER 15: Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
	-- Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay
      His feet were small and improbably pink, and they slapped haphazardly
at the grass in a comical facsimile of walking.  Although he moved clumsily,
Aaron didn't fall; he was steadied and guided forward by the large hand to
which the two-year old clung, Lance's hand holding Aaron's hand as each of
his tiny feet slap-landed against the grass, making a tiny thud-thud each
time, and each time his tiny toes being pressed apart by a tuft of grass, as
if the grass had suddenly sprouted there.  The sky was the color of swimming
pool water, and it seemed to stretch forever into the distance, shimmering.
The air was dead-still, with so little breeze that the leaves on the trees
barely moved, and did not whisper like they usually did in the morning, once
the sun was up.

      	"Birdy," Aaron said, almost chirping the word, like he was a bird
too, and pointing at the sky and, at the same time, at the birds that flew
there.

      	"Those are terns," Lance said, crouching down beside Aaron and
pointing now too. "It's a kind of a bird...a tern.  Birdy, that's right."

      	"Birdy," Aaron said again, slapping his tiny hand against Lance's
mouth and tugging on to his lower lip, and stretching it like Lance's face
was a rubber mask.

      	Lance made a loud kissing noise against Aaron's hand, pretending to
bite it, and gurgling at him, and then picking Aaron up and carrying him the
rest of the way to the gazebo.  Lance sat with him there, on the cushioned
wooden bench that Lance had built himself; and Aaron sat in Lance's lap,
still pointing at the birds.  Lance rested his chin gently atop Aaron's
head, and kissed it.  He could smell the sweet smell of the baby shampoo,
and he wondered if baby shampoo had always smelled like this.  It probably
had, he thought.  Lance marveled too at the softness of Aaron's skin, and
how fragile it seemed, like the thinnest of silk, and he noticed how Aaron
was sucking on the index and middle finger of his tiny right hand - not
sucking his thumb, which seemed strange to Lance, because he thought every
baby sucked his thumb.

      "Are you tired, Aaron," Lance asked gently.  "Do you want to take a
nap now?"

      Aaron shook his head no, but his eyes began to droop and soon he was
asleep.  He seemed to Lance to weigh almost nothing at all, as if Lance
needed to hold on to him, not just to keep Aaron from falling, but also from
floating away.  Lance pulled Aaron more tightly against his chest and he
encircled him in his arm.  The late morning sun felt good on Lance's face,
and he allowed his own eyes to close as he gently rocked Aaron from side to
side, and listened to him breathe; the sound of it was almost like a cat
purring.  It was Sunday, and Aaron had been with them for the last two days
while Joey and Mel had a weekend away in Los Cabos.  Their flight was due
back within the hour or so, and then they'd come by the house for Aaron.
Lance had at first thought JC was crazy for agreeing to baby-sit again, but
soon he'd been on the floor playing with Aaron, and chasing him, and
tickling him, and being rewarded with sound of giggling squeals.

      "You're a good little boy," Lance whispered, kissing the top of
Aaron's head.

      The sun was making Lance feel drowsy, and he didn't want to risk
falling asleep while he was holding Aaron, so he decided to walk back to the
house.  He could put Aaron down for a nap, and then start packing up Aaron's
diaper bag, and collecting the toys that he'd managed to spread all over the
living room and kitchen floor.  Lance knew that Joey and Mel would be mad
that he'd taken Aaron to F.A.O. Schwartz at Horton Plaza and bought him a
huge set of blocks and a noisy toy lawn mower that Aaron had spent two hours
yesterday pushing around the backyard.

      Walking back to the house, Lance could see that JC was standing on the
upstairs balcony, as he usually did.  Lance watched JC standing there,
waiting for him to wave, like he always did, and waiting for him to shout,
"Hey!"  But JC wasn't waving this time, and he wasn't shouting "Hey!" This
time JC was just standing there, and not smiling, and not waving, and he
looked worried and scared.  Lance quickened his pace and shrugged at JC,
trying to communicate his curiosity from a distance, trying to ask with a
shrug, Is something wrong? What's wrong?

      JC met Lance at the back door and quickly took Aaron from Lance's
arms.

      "I'm just going to put him down first," JC said.  "I'll see you in the
kitchen in just a second."

      JC's face was drained of all color, and his lips were pressed together
like he was holding his breath.  Lance could see that his hands were
trembling when he took Aaron, and for a moment Lance was afraid that JC
might drop him if he wasn't careful.

      "Do you want me to help put him down," Lance asked, touching JC's
shoulder as he carried Aaron away.

      "No, it's okay," JC said.  "I'll be right back."

      "JC," Lance said, calling once more after JC, worriedly, and trying to
get JC to stop. "What is it? Tell me."

      "Shhh," JC said, more mouthing the sound than saying it. "I'll be
right back."

      "Did Brendan call again," Lance said, his face showing a pained
expression.  "Because if he did, I'm sorry.  I told him to stop.  I don't
know why he keeps calling."

      JC was standing at the bottom of the stairs, mid-stride almost, about
to climb them.  Lance could see that JC's bottom lip was shaking, and he
imagined that it was out of anger, not fear, or any other emotion that might
cause a lip to shake that way.  Lance wanted to rush over and hold JC, hold
him in his arms, and tell him that everything would be okay, to please trust
him.

      "No," JC said, and now there were tears in his eyes.  "It's Joey and
Mel."

      Lance did not know what this meant, but it quieted the stirring in his
heart, and for a moment he felt relieved that JC was not angry at him, and
that it was not the start of a another argument.  But, still, JC was
obviously upset, and it suddenly occurred to Lance that once again he did
not know why.

      "What is it?" Lance said, walking quickly to JC's side and putting a
hand on JC's shoulder, not letting him climb the stairs.  "What about Joey
and Mel?"

      "They're dead," JC said, barely able to get the words out.  "I just
heard.  Their plane crashed as it was taking off from Los Cabos.  No one
survived."

      *	*	*	*	*

      Justin spoke first, and then JC, and then Lance.  Now Chris stood at
the podium, his hands slippery with sweat and gripping the edge of the
podium as he stared out at the over 2,200 mourners gathered this morning in
St. Patrick's Cathedral for Joey's memorial service.  It was cold and rainy
outside, and everyone now inside the Cathedral had had to struggle through a
throng of several thousand additional people who had not been invited to
attend the service, but who had wanted to be there anyway, so that they
could, in some fashion at least, be also a part of this long saying of good
bye.
      "When we started the band," Chris said, his speech halting and
unsteady.  "There were only four of us - Joey, JC, Justin, and me.  And no
matter how much we tried, the sound was never quite right.  We knew that it
was missing something."

      Chris paused, and turned his head slightly to the left to smile at
Lance, who was standing close behind him, as if to hold him up. Justin and
JC were beside Chris on his right, and JC put his hand on Chris' shoulder,
urging him to go on.

      "That's why we asked Lance to join us, and that's how we became a
group of five and not just four.  But now we're four again, and I got to
tell you, that it hurts like hell...if that's something you can say in
Church, I don't really know."

      There was a low murmur of laughter that moved across the crowd of
mourners, almost as if each successive row of people decided it was all
right to laugh, even if only weakly, and even if only for a brief moment.

      "Anyway," Chris said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, and
coughing and taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.  "I want to
tell you something about Joey, something you might not know.  He was
fiercely devoted to his family, and to the idea of family, and the idea that
a family isn't just a group of people connected by blood, but also a group
of people connected by love.  And that was what we were, the five of us, we
were connected by love, love for each other."

      Chris gasped, not sure that he could go on.  Lance and JC and Justin
stepped closer to him, and put their arms around his shoulders.

      "It's okay," Lance whispered into his ear.  "You can do it."

      "Yeah," Chris said, nodding his head and biting his lower lip.

      "So, when two or three of us would get in some sort of fight," Chris
said.  "I mean, you know how it is, everyone fights sometime, and we were no
exception.  But one of us would get really angry, usually over something
stupid, and then say something stupid, and hurtful, and mean, well, Joey
would barge right into the middle of whatever was going on, and he'd be just
about as mad as I think it was possible to be, and he would just put a stop
to it, and...and, uh, he would always say..."

      Chris faltered and suddenly started to cry, and for a moment he
couldn't stop. The silence that had filled the Cathedral was broken now by
the sounds of jagged crying, and ragged throat-choked gasps for breath, and
the muffled snuffling of people trying to blow their noses quietly into
handkerchiefs brought especially for this occasion.

      "Come on Chris," Justin and Lance whispered to Chris, nearly at the
same time, holding him up by the shoulders.

      "No, I can't," Chris gasped. "I can't."

      "For Joey," JC whispered.

      Tears were streaming down his face, and his nose was red, and Chris
could hardly see at all, his vision so blurred by anguish and tears.
Finding a remnant of strength where he thought he had none, Chris shook free
of Lance and Justin's hold on him, and he leaned forward to the podium and
once more began to tell the story.

      "Okay," he said softly, but with determination.  "When Joey was
busting up some stupid argument we were having, he would always say - well,
actually, he'd scream,  'You have exactly five seconds to take that back or
I'm going to kick your fucking ass until it breaks into a million goddamn
pieces!'"

      There was a sudden eruption of laughter in the Cathedral, as if the
small laughs of moments before had been seeds that Chris had planted amidst
the mourners, and now the seeds had burst forth into a glorious profusion of
remembered-joy.  Chris even laughed himself as he wiped clear his eyes and
managed to see again, see Justin and JC and Lance laughing too, looking at
him, and marveling at the fact that he'd got Joey's famous shout just right,
swear words and all.

      "And we always did take it back," Chris said, smiling at the thought
of it.  "Not just because we feared for our lives, which we did, of course,
but because we knew we should, because we were family, and we knew - or we
were reminded - how important it was for us to stick together."

      So, that's why we're here," Chris continued.  "To stick together and
to say good bye to our brother, Joey Fatone, to say good bye one last time.
And even though we'll never sing together again, not as a group, not as
NSync, today we thought we'd sing one last time, one last song, hoping that
maybe he'd hear it, and maybe he'd sing along."

      Chris followed Justin and JC to the left of the altar where five
stand-microphones had been set up, taking their place in turn behind the
three that were furthest from the podium. Lance followed Chris, taking his
place behind the microphone closest to the podium, leaving open the one that
stood between Chris and him.  Bending close in to the microphone, his hands
behind his back, Justin sang the first long note, followed by JC, and then
Chris.  There was a pause in the place where Joey would have joined in the
harmony, and then Lance sang his note, their voices blending together into a
single sad sound, until JC's voice shifted away, and he began to sing the
first verse, followed in it by Justin, who sang the words too.

      "There's a land that is fairer than day and
      	By faith we can see it afar
      For the Father waits over the wave
      To prepare us a dwelling place there."

      Now Lance and Chris joined the others in singing the chorus, their
voices wavering some, but not so much to be noticed by  anyone but
themselves.

      	"In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore
      	In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore."

JC sang the next verse alone.

      "We shall sing on that beautiful shore
      	The melodious songs of the blest
      And our spirit shall sorrow no more
      	Not a sigh for the blessing of rest."

Now they sang together again, their voices unadorned and honest.

      In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore
      	In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

Justin sang the last verse now.

      To our bountiful Father above
      We will offer a tribute of praise
      For the glorious gifts of his love
      And the blessing that hallowed
      Our days.

      As they started into the chorus one last time, they gathered around
the microphone they'd left open for Joey, and they joined hands, knowing
that they would never sing together again, singing together without Joey
would never make any sense at all, except here.

      In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore
      	In the sweet bye and bye
      We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

      The last long notes of the song echoed through the Cathedral's vast
interior, rising like a bird to highest heights of the Cathedral's spire,
and then disappearing into the cold stone there.  And as silence slowly
recaptured this sacred space, and the four surviving members of NSync stood
there, you could almost imagine Joey still being there too, singing with
them, one last time.


      *	*	*	*	*

      This time there was no crowd.  It was a hushed and black-dressed crowd
of family and a few friends, sitting in eleven rows of metal chairs, beneath
a black canvas canopy that did little to protect anyone from the harsh and
whistling wind and the needling spray of rain that blew into their blinking
unguarded eyes.  Everyone's face was a mask of predictable sadness and
stunned surprise, as if each one of the people sitting there, listening to
the priest pray, had received simultaneous news of the impossible having
just occurred, and they were still unable to believe it was true.

      But it was true, as true as anything could be true, because Joey was
dead, and they had come today to bury him, here in Brooklyn, New York at the
historic Green-Wood Cemetery.  The service was nearing its end, and JC
clutched Lance's left knee as he listened and tried not to cry.

      O God of grace and glory, we remember before you this day our brother
Joseph Fatone.  We thank you for giving him to us, his family and friends,
to know and to love as a companion on our earthly pilgrimage. In your
boundless compassion, console us who mourn.  Give us faith to see in death
the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our
course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have
gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

      This morning, before the service, Lance had dressed Aaron in a small
suit, with a small black clip-on bow-tie that Aaron had continually pulled
off, wanting to play with it and not wear it.  Lance had finally given in
and let Aaron leave the bow-tie off, because it kept him quiet, and it made
Aaron smile as he managed to click the clip open and closed. Lance's arms
held Aaron tightly now, even though Aaron wasn't squabbling or trying to
wiggle free; he was sitting quietly on Lance's lap, watching the priest, and
staring over the top of the coffin into the distance at the dark gray sky,
and the stand ancient oak trees that defined the line of the horizon.  The
trees were bare of leaves, and they reached into the sky like long bony
fingers.

      Lance looked at JC and found JC staring at him.  Lance smiled weakly,
and said softly, "I'm glad he's being good."

      JC nodded and squeezed Lance's knee even harder than before.  JC could
not imagine how Lance felt right then, but he had never been so proud of
him.  Lance had arranged every detail of the funeral, relieving Joey's
parents of the burden of having to do anything at all.  And during this
entire time of planning and grief, Lance had not once let Aaron out of his
sight, and he had not once been anything but formidably kind and caring and
strong and patient.  Whatever lingering doubt there might have been left in
his mind, doubt about Lance and his commitment to him and their love, JC had
felt vanish entirely, replaced by a love so revived and so real that it
astonished him still.

      JC looked once more at Lance.  There were no tears on Lance's face,
only rain and a look of calm resolve.  JC knew that they would endure, for
each other, for Aaron, and for Joey and Mel too, endure not only because
they had no choice but to endure, but because it was their duty now to do
more than just endure; it was their duty now to live. JC squeezed Lance's
knee again and turned back to watching the priest, and listening to the
final lines of the Rite of Committal.

      You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; and we are
mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return.  For so did you
ordain when you created me, saying. You are dust, and to dust you shall
return. All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our
song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

      Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints, where sorrow
and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.

      Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Joseph
Fatone.  Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a
lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.  Receive him into
the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into
the  glorious company of the saints in light.  Amen.

      Everyone in the crowd stood up now.  The rustle of coats and capes and
suit jackets sound like dead-dry leaves blowing away in the wind.  The
family was the first to file by the coffin - Joey's father, Joseph Fatone,
Sr., and his mother, Phyllis, and his brother Steve - and each touched the
coffin with a trembling hand, and placed a rose there, and then wandered off
as if no longer knowing where to go or what to do except to turn and walk
away from this most unpleasant of truths.

      Lance and JC watched as others filed past the coffin, mostly people
they didn't know or recognize, and then Justin and Chris, who stood at the
coffin for several minutes, placing two white roses there, and Chris falling
to his knees, and resting his forehead on the coffin, and sobbing, and
sobbing, until finally helped to his feet by Justin, and led slowly away
from where Joey would soon be interred.

      Seeing now that there was no one left but the three of them, Lance
slipped Aaron from his lap, and took Aaron's hand while the little boy
steadied himself and got sure of his feet.  JC slipped his hand into Lance's
left hand, and the three of them approached the coffin.  JC touched the
coffin with tips of his fingers, and then pressed both hands flat against
it.  The coffin was startlingly cold to the touch, and JC wondered why he
had not expected it to be this cold.  Lance looked at JC and saw that he was
crying.

      "Are you okay," Lance asked.

      JC nodded and removed his hands from the coffin, stepping slightly to
one side to make more room.  Lance picked Aaron up from where he stood next
to him, and placed Aaron's hands on the coffin, in the same place that JC
had just touched.  Lance covered Aaron's hands with his own, and then
whispered into Aaron's ear.

      "Bye, bye," Aaron said, not understanding, but doing what Lance had
asked.

      "Good bye, Joey," Lance said, his hands trembling as he pulled Aaron
back into his arms and nestled Aaron's face in the crook of his neck, and
covered him with the wings of his overcoat.  "We'll take good care of him. I
promise."

      Lance turned slowly around, looking into the distant haze of misting
rain, broken by the line of flight of five mourning doves.  He'd been told
by the funeral director that the doves nested here in trees first planted at
the cemetery's inauguration in 1838.  This is a beautiful place, Lance
thought, as he watched the four doves move toward him and then away, flying
in a line, one after the other, disappearing into the distant trees.

      "Are you ready," Lance said, turning to JC and taking his hand.

      "Yeah, are you?" JC asked, brushing the hair from out of Lance's eyes
and then patting Aaron gently on the back.

      "Yeah, let's go," Lance said.

      JC and Lance walked slowly toward where the limousines waited.  Most
everyone was gone now, or were leaving, and so nearly gone.  The rain was
falling harder now, and people quickened their step to get out of it.  When
they reached the limousine, JC waved off the driver and opened the door
himself.

      "Here, I'll take him while you get in," JC said, lifting Aaron from
Lance's arms and then handing him back once Lance was settled inside the
limousine.

      "Did he wake up?" JC asked, stepping into the limousine himself, and
sliding over next to Lance.

      "A little," Lance whispered.  "But he'll be okay.  It's been a long
day. He's tired"

      JC leaned over and kissed Lance's cheek.  Lance's cheek was damp, but
not cold, and JC let his lips linger there for a moment, warming them.

      "I love you," JC said, speaking softly into Lance's ear as he pulled
back from the kiss, and then kissing his ear too.

      "I love you too, Josh" Lance said, turning to look at JC and smiling.
"So much."

      JC and Lance rode quietly, side by side, listening to the rain and the
sounds of traffic outside as they headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge on their
way into the city.

      "Let's not stay long at the wake," Lance said, staring out the window.

      "That's fine," JC said, picking up Aaron's bow-tie, which had fallen
on the floor.

      "Our flight leaves pretty early tomorrow," Lance said.

      "Yeah," JC said. "And we should get Aaron down."

      "Exactly," Lance said, turning to look at JC.  "Otherwise we would
stay late, at the wake I mean, with everyone there and all."

      "I know," JC said. "Everyone will understand if we just make an
appearance and leave.  They know we have Aaron now."

      "Good then," Lance said, feeling relieved, but guilty too.

      JC took Lance's hand and slid up close to him.  "It'll be good to get
back home," JC said, resting his head on Lance's shoulder.

      "Yeah," Lance said.  "It will be."

      *	*	*	*	*

      As decided, JC and Lance had not stayed long at the wake - only long
enough to pay their respects again to Joey's family, and to invite them to
come to San Diego to visit Aaron anytime they wanted.  Their flight the next
day had gone well, and Aaron had slept almost all the way back, leaving
Lance's arms only long enough for Lance to go to the bathroom once.  Now it
was two months later, and they were pulling up the driveway to their house
after being at court all morning for Aaron's adoption hearing. The air
outside the car was hot and bright, and JC knew the first rush of it hitting
him as he stepped out of the car would cause sweat to immediately soak the
back of his shirt.

      "Okay, we're here," JC said, parking the car near the front door
rather than in the car port at the side of the house.

      Lance was sitting in the backseat with Aaron, and he began the work of
getting him out of his car seat.

      "You ready there, big guy?" Lance asked, pulling Aaron from his car
seat and stepping backwards out of the backseat while JC held the door open
for him.

      "Lance, I'll get his bag," JC said.  "And your jacket."

      "Okay, thanks," Lance said, smiling and then leaning forward to give
JC a quick kiss.  "I'll see you inside."

      JC watched as Lance walked toward the front door, balancing Aaron on
his right hip as he expertly dug the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the
door, and then went inside - all in one smooth motion.   JC could hardly
believe that less than three months ago he'd been in Barcelona, alone but
not lonely, trying to imagine a new life for himself.  And now he had a new
life, one that he had not chosen, but that chosen him instead, a life with a
two year old child that he already cherished, and a man whom he loved
dearly, a life neither lonely, nor alone.  Closing the door to the Volvo, JC
remembered how Joey used to call it his "soccer mom car," and tease him that
no one should drive a car like that without a kid to put in it.

      "I guess you were right, Joey," JC said softly, surprised at the
sudden sting of tears in his eyes.  "I guess you really were right."