Date: Sun, 02 Feb 2003 14:20:55 -0500
From: chris _qd <chris_qd@hotmail.com>
Subject: At What Point part 3

Disclaimer:
This story contains homoerotic and/or man-to-man relationship-based
literature. If you find this offensive, it is illegal in your area
or you are below the age to view such materials in your area - please
leave now!

Said story will center on a fictitious plot line using the members of
Nsync and people associated with them as "characters." This story is
meant as a form of entertainment and should not be understood as any
form of truth when in reference to the actions and preferences of said
"characters."  IE: I know not of their actual sexuality, I don't know
them personally and I probably never will, so the events and "facts"
(unless public knowledge) aren't real -- the definition of "fiction!"

Author Note: Ok, I'm sorry part three took so long. Family issues &
some other stuff - 'nuff said. Lets see what else... Oh yeah I will
soon have a "master reading list" of Nifty work that I recomend and
that has inspired me. So check out my site soon. (listed at the end)
And I can't leave out "Over" by Scott - a great guy who does great
work- so read it!


***
At What Point? Part 3
***


        'God - I love virgins! Usually I have to prod them a long, but
shit - this one wants it...' Tim was shocked out of his thoughts when he
realized the credits were rolling.  "Pam...Pam! Calm it girl; the movie's
over.  The lights will be up any sec - you wanna put on a show for
everybody else?"

        "Aww, Timmy..."

        'Damn that voice... ' Shaking his head, "Sorry Pam, we gotta get
moving.  Now button your blouse, and I'll roust Scott... Where the hell
is he?"

        "Who?" Her eyes still washed out from the theater lights that had
risen moments earlier.

        "Scott.  Did you see him leave?"

        "Oh, yeah, a while ago..."

        "And you didn't bother to tell me?" Tim cut in, almost shouting.

        "Well excuse me!  At the time you were working on king sized
hickey!"

        "Ok, ok.  His bitch of a mother probably called him.  I'll check
inwith him later.  Now how 'bout we go somewhere are finish what we started
here?"

Pam squealed.

***

        'Ok, what now? Shit - I can't just leave him there.  This is just
what I need!'  He though, as he leaned forward with his hands on his
thighs outside the Loews. 'Ok here we go...' He turned and reentered the
movie theater.

        "Hello Sir, how may I help you?" An elderly woman surveyed the
man as he approached the customer service desk.

        "Um yes, um Ma'am, someone... bathroom ... um, fell..."
Panting, still out of breath due to his sprint from the restroom.

         "Ok, son, calm down - take a deep breath.  Ok, now what's the
problem?"  Her kind eyes peered at him, he hated to lie but the last thing
he needed was a headline.

        "My - my, brother collapsed in the bathroom,  I don't know if he
fainted but he bumped his head pretty good."

        "Oh my!" She gasped.  "Let me get the manager - I think he has a
first aid kit."

	"SHIFT MANAGER TO THE CUSTOMER SERVICE DESK, PLEASE!" The words
boomed through the Cineplex.

        'I can pull this off, no one has to know, I can do this...' He
was now nervous as he dashed back to the restroom, finding the unconscious
man, motionless but breathing, in the same position he had left him. The
restroom was otherwise empty and no one saw the man search for the other's
wallet "Ok -Scott- sorry about this, really." As he finished his words,
the manger, portly and in his fifties burst through the door, followed by
the elderly service clerk who detoured people from the bathroom entrance.
Grabbing the kit from the manager he quickly rummaged through to find the
smelling salts and broke one open under Scotts nose.  "Ok Scott time to
wake up..."

        "Wha, wha, what's going on?"

         "Its ok lil bro. You fell and cracked your head"

        "Bro? ...who the hell are you..."

        "Relax, Scott, its ok. He's just a little disoriented from the
fall," directing his words to the manager.  "Let's get you up and get you
checked out..."

        "But..." Scott began to protest but his head was killing him and
he was in no mood to do so. athough the events were coing back to him.
'What is this guy up to?  Whatever reason Pretty Boy here, has for posing
as my brother is beyond me.  Once we are outside I'll bolt for my car
- yeah right, -bolt- who am I kidding?  If I'm lucky one good sucker
punch will buy me time.'

        "Thanks for your help with my brother. I think we should be heading
to the hospital now." Taking Scott by the arm the man led Scott quickly to
the exit doors, while fighting his way through a mass of people that formed
after a group of movies let out.

        "But sir, we can have an ambulance here in minutes and there's
paperwork that has to be done!"  The manager moaned after them, having
a hard time keeping.

        Scott, still light headed with a pounding migraine, stumbled
through the throngs of moviegoers, and began to lean upon the older man
for support; his feet dragging more than usual.  This slowed them down
to the point where the manager, with papers in hand, could reach them.
Giving up his hopes for a clean get away, the man turned to the manager,
as a pen was thrust in his face.

        With a sigh the manager began: "If you refuse to have this venue
contact medical assistance for you, it negates your ability to claim wrong
doing by..."

        "Save the speech, give me the paper - where do I sign!"
He scribbled in the line - something that looked like a name and left it
at that, he needed to get out of there.

        Scotts footing had come back to him, or at least man thought it
did, not sure how much the kid had in the first place. When the duo walked
into the crisp night air Scott tried to pull away.  But his efforts were
only met with the tightening of the grip in his shoulder.

        "I don't think so pal - we are still heading to the hospital"

        "Ok, whoever you are.  I guess I should thank you so saving me
the trouble of paperwork and an ambulance ride.  But I'm not going to,
'cause you are basically the reason for the mess! Now let go of me."
Scott rubbed this temple with his free hand God, my head hurts...'

	"Damn man. Fine, have it your way - just trying to help."

        "Oh, and knocking me on my ass wasn't enough?" Scott grumbled
as he started to walk away, only for his legs to give out from under him.
'Shit, not again!'

        The man was quick enough to grab Scott before he hit the ground.
"Sorry you lose. We are going to a hospital - no bitching allowed."

         "Ok, no argument from me. You gonna help me straighten up, or
just carry me?" Both smiled and their faces came close as Scott was
helped up, and the man's goatee brushed his face. 'I know him from
somewhere - but where?'

        "Just lean on me and we will get to my car."

        "Hold-up, I have a car..."

        "You honestly think I'm gonna let you drive?  If you haven't
noticed you aren't exactly upright and balanced."

        Scott cringed.  "Well, see - no you're right.  Um, so where are
we heading?"

"Like I said, we are heading to the hospital - speaking of which. Where
is the closest one?"

        "Um, lets see, I think that would be Braddock, but it really isn't
necessary."

        "Damn it Scott! Stop fighting me on this! I heard you hit the floor
- you hit hard, and last time I checked marble doesn't have much give to
it,"
he said with a smirk.  "I just want to make sure you're ok, no concussion
or anything.  Please get in. I feel like shit for the whole thing and I'll
be
damned if you end up messed up from my carelessness..."  His words grew soft
with concern and his face contorted into a matching expression.

        Reading the man's face as they pulled out of The Waterfront
Complex, Scott sought to lessen his worry and smiled back.  "Ok, ok - no
more fighting on my part. Oh, you want to turn here.  I know you're right.
Being checked out wouldn't hurt.  Take a right onto the bridge..."

        The rest of the ride was filed with silence that was punctuated
by Scott's breath relating the directions to Braddock.  When not acting
as navigator, Scott stared out the front or passenger side window watching
aging sections of boarded-up Homestead go by.  He tried to figure out the
why's and what's of what had happened.  'Ok, I fell, and whacked my head,
nothing new there. Nope correction, I was hit in the face by a door and
then fell, that's a new one.  So why am I in a car heading to the hospital
with a person I don't know who is the cause of this damn headache? But
damn his looks kinda familiar...' He gave up under the weight of his
pounding head; content to simply watch the buildings go by.

        Busy in his own thoughts, Scott was unaware that he was under
the constant surveillance of the driver. 'Well, he seems ok, if not a
lil spacey.  But hell, his head must be killing him.  Pulled out of his
thoughts by the bright neon sign that marked the entrance to Braddock's
E.R. where an ambulance was unloading "Scott, we're here. Let's getting
going. God knows how much paper work we will have to fill out."

        "You don't know the half of it," Scott said with a sigh, which
seemed to be his most common piece of punctuation.

        Sitting in the under lit, and rather run down waiting area
Scott filled in the numerous lines and spaces with all the miscellaneous
medical information that was asked of him; He had already sent the main
insurance information to the front desk with the mystery man.  Scott sat
back for a moment, trying to remember the number for his PCP, he had gone
through a ton of primary care physicians, and it seemed his family changed
insurances every other month.  Giving up on the elusive number, his thoughts
shifted to the man he had just spent the last two hours with. 'I must be
insane I don't even know his name yet I got in car with him, and for some
reason he seems to have my best interest in mind. That would be yet another
first. No, I doubt it. He's probably just covering his ass, but it's a cute
one none the less.  Why dose he look so familiar? Well, he is the guy from
the store with the clerk who was rectally transporting a steel rod! That
bitch.' He laughed to himself. 'But I know I have seen him somewhere
else...'
Scott's attention was brought back to the man, for some reason he seemed to
be fighting with the medical clerk at the cluttered and over-sized admit
desk.

        "But Sir, he has more than adequate coverage.  The insurance will
cover the exam and any test we may do."

        "I don't care! Just call the number on the card and ask for the
diversified accounting office, in fact call now and they will provide all
the
billing information you need to cover expenses."  He finished his sentence
at turn to check on Scott, and was surprised when their eyes met and they
exchanged smiles.

        The clerk, who had bags under her eyes wearily looked down at
the business card that had been flung on the counter:

FMS Holdings L.L.C.
Mr. C. Kirkpatrick
1.888.FuManSk
1.888.386.2675

        "Mr. Kirkpatrick, this is rather unusual.  I will have to check with
my superiors.  Do you have a number that you can be contacted at?"

        Retaining his smile his delivery had mellowed "My extension
should be on the back and..."

        Scott sat there - his gears grinding. 'Kirkpatrick? ...Kirkpatrick,
Kirkpatrick, Kirkpatrick...' Then it clicked.  'Chris Kirkpatrick! Damn,
that's why he looked so familiar.  I think I may have to thank Amanda for
dragging me to that concert last year...she still owes me for downloading
half of their songs for her.  God I don't even want to think of all the fan
sites I hunted through.  Although some of their stuff isn't bad, well 'cept
for their first cd - I think that play that on the elevator to hell...'

        "Earth to Scott? You look a lil out of it. Are you done with the
rest
of the forms? I just got the insurance squared way."

        "Oh, ah - yeah. Here, you can take them up if you want." Scott's
words were a little stuttered at the start when he was broken out of his
trance.  His eyes still fixed towards the admit desk till he has heard his
voice.

        "That won't be necessary, I can take those," the tired medical clerk
stated, as she approached. "And don't worry - the insurance has been taken
care of."  Scott gave her an odd look but she simply smiled and turned
back towards the admit desk after acknowledging the nod over Scott's
shoulder.

        Shaking off his confusion Scott decided to dig for information.
"So... Since we may have a while to wait, lets chat a lil - k?"

        "Ok. 'Bout what?"

        "Well, for starters, how about your name and the location of my
wallet?"

        "Oh sorry, I looked in it to find out your name in the theater, and
my name is...Chris."  He then began to dig around in his jacket. "Here it
is,
I just couldn't remember where I shoved it in the rush to get out of there."

        "Thanks, and it's nice to finally have a name for the face." Scott
smirked. "By the way, great jacket.  New?" He smirked again, knowing
the answer to that as well.

        "Yeah... you like it?" Chris's reply was sheepish.  "It's sorta the
reason for all of this.  I just got it and wanted to see what it looked like
outside of the store.. That's why I burst out of the stall - I wanted to get
to the mirrors.  I'm really sorry about all of this, really."

        "Chris, you can  stop now, really.  If I stopped bitching about
coming here you have to stop apologizing - ok?"

        "Deal!" They shook hands laughing. "Wait, how did you know it
was new?"

        "Well, the tags are a dead give away, and I think I saw you in that
shop earlier."

        "Oh Man! I left the tags on!?" he blurted out in a mockingly
shocked. "....so you were the screaming lunatic, that I was assured - was
not typical of clientele - ?"

        "Bitch." They said in unison with deadpan delivery followed by
laughter.

        "Well, it may be the cause of my pounding head, but its still cool,
for a classic biker's jacket.  I usually like the sleeker BMX look, although
I
can't pull of the look myself. One has to have a sleek profile to match.
But anyway, it looks good on you."

        "Um, thanks." A blush rose from Chris's cheeks.

	A lite air of tension seeped into the small waiting room. Scott
looked towards the admit desk once more and Chris stared down at his
shoes.  Neither knew what to say next.  A rather innocent comment about
a jacket had seeming killed the rapport that was growing between them.
They both wanted the other to speak first, to change the subject - to
say anything.  But both men stayed silent with their thoughts.

	Shifting, Chris, turned to face Scott, but found his attentions
elsewhere. 'Was that a come-on?  Nah, flattering but, nah.  You would
think he would have recognized me and reacted in some way.  But then
again he is a guy - not exactly our core audience.  Then again if he is
gay.  Lord I've spent to much time with the guys - some of them are giving
be Gaydar by association!'

	"What's so funny"

	"Uh...what??"

	"You had a smirk on your face and were just kinda off in space,"
Scott stated quizzically.

	"Oh I was just thinking 'bout something. Nothing important."  A
blush grew over Chris's face once more.

	"Oh, OK.  So, I've been meaning to ask  you about the 'brother' bit
back at the theater."

	"Yeah, well, yea see..."

	"Scott Huffman?"

	"That's him." Chris cut off  what he was trying to say with a
gesture towards the seat next to him.

	"A doctor can see you now. Please Follow me"

	Scott disappeared down the corridor following behind the nurse
and Chris slumped back into the hard plastic chair. 'OK I got a reprieve.
But do I tell him?'  He sat there in the ebb and flow of ER crowd. Watching
the ambulances roll in and out and the drunks shuffle about, all the while
in thought.  Chris finally decided if it was necessary, he would tell Scott
who he is but if it doesn't come up - why bother.  In the end its less mess.
He looked up when he noticed a shadow in front of him but was surprised to
find that it was not Scott.

	"You brought in Scott Huffman? I'm Dr. Bahr, I examined him."
The doctor did not make eye contact, flipping through his clip board
consulting his notes.

	"Yes, How is he?"

	"by all appearances and tests Scott seems to be fine.  But with
your brother's medical history, I think it best that you keep a close eye
on him."

	"Sure thing Doc."

	"If you notice anything odd within the next 24 hours please bring
him back in. Otherwise, as I said, just keep and eye on him."

	"Did I miss anything?"

	"No, you are free to go Scott. I was just telling you brother to be
cautious, just as I told you." With that Dr. Bahr rushed towards the sound
of another ambulance pulling into the bay.

	"OK 'Bro' - time to go." Scott smiled and cocked his head towards
the door.  Chris couldn't help but laugh, and the two trotted along to his
car.  "So - with that over we can head home, well, head to our respective
homes.  You can just let me off in front of the movies."

	"Something I said?"  Chris realized his shock showed more than he
would have liked.

	"Oh, no, nothing personal.  In fact, yea, that came out wrong.  I
just mean I figure we both have things to do.  Its not that I'm being cold
or that I don't appreciate what you have done for me - really." He toyed
with his seat belt as the words came out. Wishing he hadn't sounded so curt
before.

	"Geez, chill.  And for the record I have nothing to do tonight, and
neither, for that matter, do you."

	"Planning my night for me now? Just remember: fat people are
hard to kidnap."  His delivery - dry and sarcastic

	"No, more like house arrest.  The doctor wants someone to keep an
eye on you, and it seems like that someone is going to be me."  Chris
channeled that 'inner-father' he usually represses.  "So tonight I play host
and we have a sleep over."

	"Honest, I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

	"You know, you really protest to much, just go with the flow.
In other words, no fighting, you have no choice.  And lest you get any
ideas of running away - I have your car keys!" Chris grinned from ear to
ear as he pulled into the townhouse development that ran along side the
Waterfront complex.

	Scott padded down his jacket and jeans pockets, hearing a small
rattling noise but not the clatter of his keys. "Damn it! And just how
legal do you think this is?"

	"Well, first things first.  Never leave your coat with a stranger.
And second:  Do I look like a psycho? And ignore the hair." He was giggling
by now and Scott joined in "Anyway if i really was nuts - how many head
cases do you know take their prey to the hospital?"

	"Point taken.  So are we going to stay in your car all night or are
we heading in? It seems like I have not choice but to follow so lead on."

	"Smart-ass."

	They where still laughing when Chris reached the townhome door and
let them in.  He led Scott through the entry way, flicking on the lights
as they went and eventually collapsing on either ends of a plush beige
leather couch. Settling in, Scott took in the large vaulted room washed in
warm tones of tans and creams against deep maroon walls. 'For a townhouse
this place is huge.  How many doors did i pass on the may in?' His eyes
wondered about the room a bit more.

	"You like it?" Chris had sat back watching Chris take in the room

	"Yeah, just move in? I dont see many pictures."

	"Yep, but its not mine.  Belongs to a friend of mine. I'm visiting /
house-sitting. Sorta here to hang out and set things up.  I think most of
the
art and stuff is still packed up.  He had some business downtown tonight, so
god knows when we will see him.   So, it only eleven, and I'm a night owl so
you wanna pop in a movie?  Oh wait, you probably wanna to turn in, huh? It's
cool.  There's a guess room down the hall on the right.

	"Nah, I tend to be a creature of the night too, but not really in a
movie mood.  How about 20 questions?"

	"Why not," Chris chuckled. "You first."

	"Um, ok: What do you do for a living?"

	"Ah, well right now I'm sorta in venture capital.  You know
looking for places to invest or projects to nurture."

	"This humble community college student bows to your financial
might!"

	"Smart-ass. Do you have classes or anything tomorrow?

	"Nope.  I only have classes M-W-F. So, with tomorrow being
Thursday, I'm off"

	"OK, my turn.  What music you into?"  Chris' eyes shifted, still
friendly but they seemed to be hunting for something.

	'He's looking to see if i might recognize him.  I bet any money
thats what he's hunting for.' Scott thought for a moment. "Well I'd say that
my tastes are rather eclectic.  I mean I will listen to everything from pop,
techno, to classical. Some rap is ok.  Not that big on country. I mean how
many songs can there be with lyrics about broken tractors, lost love and
dead cows!"

	Chris burst into laughter, falling off the couch.  "Too damn true!
Though Lan... a, my friend would be pissed to hear someone say that.  He
lives in cowboy boots whenever he can!"

  	"Yeah.  I think there is only one place I draw the line with
music..." Scott stated, trying desperately to fight the laughter that was
welling up in him due to Chris' outburst.

  	"Oh?"

  	"Boybands." Scott's line was dry and Chris' laughter tapered off
drastically, like death had tapped him on the shoulder.

	"Who the hell can stomach all the mass produced empty headed crap?
One love ballad after another - sprinkled here and here with a catchy, if
not
pointless, lil single, that thanks to MTV, gets crammed down your throats
during the whopping twenty-three seconds they set aside to play music each
day."

  	"Ah, yeah" His tone was flat, as Chris processed what he heard,
though it was not a new sentiment, just an unexpected one.

	"Come on they all sound the same... *Ntown, O Degrees, 98th Street
Boys - or whatever they are called.  But I figure the death toll will be
ringing any day now - it will be the New Kids all over again!"

	"Boy... you, you got that right."  Chris tried not to react but he
seemed to be choking on his words.

	'Ok Scott, bit of overkill there.  It was fun, but a bit much.'
Sighing, Scott figured it best to leave the topic, but still have some fun.
"My turn again.  So where are your from?  I'm guessing your not a local."
He smirked, he knew the answer.  Amanda could spout their bio info at will,
but it would still be fun to see what he would say.

	"Well, actually I am originally from the Pittsburgh area.  I was born
here and grew up a lil here but haven't been around for a while. I'm down in
Florida now and have covered a lot of the country."

	"That's cool.  I-myself am born and raised in the south hills.  A
suburban mall rat. And with that, would you mind if I headed to bed, the
days events have finally caught up with me."  His sentence was ended
with a yawn.

	Getting off the floor and stretching his arms, Chris yawned and
agreed.  "I think I'll do the same.  See you in the morning Scott."

	"Ok, oh just one thing Chris, I'm not sure people consider Clarion part
of the Pittsburgh area - with it being about two hours to the north and all.
But if it works for you - go for it!"

	"What?"  Chris stared at Scott, standing in the doorway of the
guess room, as he registered Scott's words.

	Laughing, Scott shut the door with Chris still standing there.  But
a second later poked his head out. "Goodnight Mr. Kirkpatrick." And the door
closed once again.

	A moment ticked by before Chris yelled after.  "We will talk bright
and early tomorrow! But for now goodnight Scott."  he then shuffled toward
one of the two remaining guest rooms, killing the lights as he went.
'He knew all along.  That Smart-ass.'  Sighing, he pulled his covers up and
closed his eyes.

tbc

***
End note: Ok, hoped you liked it.  Part 3 was a lil dry but was needed to
get to part 4, which will be out in a timely fashion.  Things will start
to get pulled together - honest they will!  Well I have to get back to
work, part 4 awaits!  Feedback is great! (Please don't make me beg!)

Feedback:  chris_qd@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.cranmikey.com/ctbyte/ffa/awp/
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