Date: Fri, 21 Dec 2001 18:03:44 -0500
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 34

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

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

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

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've
enjoyed hearing from all of you.

OK, back to the sideshow in progress.

***

Saying this is going to make me sound really stupid, but I didn't recognize
Basil Morgan right away, even though I had seen his picture in his byline
countless times, because I was used to seeing his head in black and
white. He sat before us in florid jowled color, and I wondered how old the
picture in the papers was, since he was about forty pounds lighter in it.

"Well, well, isn't this an interesting little grouping of people," Basil
said, as the four of us stared at him.

Joey's face was impassive, the same neutral almost scowl he always wore
unless he deliberately made an effort to smile. Chris stared at Basil
through narrowed eyes, a sneer of disdain creeping across his features. I
tried to keep my own face neutral as well, but didn't know how good a job I
was doing, since I strongly disliked Basil Morgan. Peyton grinned at him
beatifically, or at least as beatifically as a human skeleton could. I
should have known that Peyton would come all the way to Los Angeles and
manage to make friends with the one person I had never wanted to meet.

The waitress walked over.

"Hon, you can't keep your chair in the aisle," she began. Basil handed her
a hundred dollar bill, not even being subtle about it.

"Wander off," he said, waving her away.

She took the money and left, without even refilling my coffee.

"As I was saying," Basil continued, picking up right where he left off. "We
have Jack Springer, gay librarian and rumored boyfriend of JC Chasez. Jack
is joined by not one, but two members of the band, Chris Kirkpatrick and
Joey Fatone, two of Nsync's three backup singers. And what are the three of
them doing? Threatening and intimidating a terminally ill cancer
patient. Very nice."

His words were all designed to wound, but I was determined not to let them
find a target.  He had nothing on me and Josh, or he would have printed it
by now. I felt Joey bristle next to me at being referred to as a "backup
singer", and hoped he and Chris wouldn't lose their tempers. No matter how
many times the media put Justin in the middle of every picture, the guys
considered themselves equal members of the group.

"Nobody has threatened anyone," I said.

"Yet," Joey added menacingly.

Chris shot him a look.

"We have nothing to say to you, Mr. Morgan," Chris said carefully.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "What exactly is Mr. Springer's relationship to
the group, Chris?"

"We're not answering questions of a personal nature," Chris said evenly.
"And we're not speaking to the press today. Your questions can be directed
to our publicity staff, whose number I'm sure you already have."

Basil smiled at him, revealing a mouth full of yellowish teeth.

"Why don't we drop the official line, huh?" Basil asked. "I have you
guys. I know all about Jack, and I have my new friend Peyton here to give
me all sorts of background."

"You have nothing," I said, before Chris could speak. "Nobody's going to
read anything you have to say about me. I'm nobody. Even if they wanted to,
good luck trying to avoid a lawsuit with his version of the facts. If you
had anything else, you would have already run it in that shitty little
column of yours."

"Even if I don't know for sure which one of these guys you're with," Basil
began, leaning toward me. "I can still run enough stories about the band's
new friend to generate a lot of talk. If you sue, it's just going to add
more fuel to the fire, and attract even more attention."

"You're bluffing," I said, wanting to lean forward as well, but afraid of
his breath.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure," Chris answered. "What exactly is it that you and Peyton want?"

"What do you think?" Basil asked. "I want the story. I want an exclusive
interview with Jack and JC, and Peyton wants the story broken."

"Why?" I asked, turning to Peyton. "What do you get out of that?"

"When this story breaks, it'll ruin JC, and the rest of the band," Peyton
said, smiling.  "And it'll all be because he met you, and he'll blame
you. You'll destroy Nsync, Jack.  You'll be Yoko Ono for twelve year olds."

I stared at him, wondering if the cancer had spread to his brain. He
couldn't possibly really believe that Josh coming out would destroy the
band. Some of the fans would be pissed, yes, but the gay rights groups
would flock to him. It would destroy the fantasies of the millions of girls
who wanted to be Mrs. Joshua Scott Chasez, but they'd still have the other
four guys to dream about. Well, maybe three, depending on how things worked
out for Lance, but that was beside the point. As fast as I realized that
Peyton really did believe this, lost as he was in his bitterness, I also
realized that Basil was just using him.  Basil didn't want to break some
gossipy "Days of Our Lives" parade of all the boys some no name librarian
had ever dated. He wanted to be the reporter who outed a member of
Nsync. He was a gossip columnist now, but that story, especially if it was
an exclusive with Josh and I, would propel him into the spotlight. It would
make his career, regardless of whether it suited Peyton's goals.

"How the hell did you two meet, anyway?" I asked, turning back to Basil. I
wanted to deal with the sane half of the pair. "Did you have anything to do
with his notes? Because that's harassment."

"Mr. Rush contacted me," Basil said. "He read the column where I asked who
you were, and called to offer his information. That's quite a story he
tells."

"His side of it, yes," I said.

"Jack's right about the notes," Joey said.

"Basil didn't have anything to do with those," Peyton said proudly. "That
was all me.  What are you going to do? Arrest me? Go nuts. Rock stars
throwing an end-stage patient in the slammer will be a great story, and my
friend here will make sure it ends up on the front page."

Basil chuckled, but I wasn't sure if he was chuckling with Peyton or
chuckling at him.

"So, what's it going to be, guys?" Basil asked. "Do I drag Jack here
through the mud, or do I get to talk to him and JC?"

"What makes you think he's even dating JC?" Joey asked.

"Or dating any of us?" Chris added.

"He could be dating all of us," Joey said.

"Yeah, maybe we just pass him around," Chris said.

I cut them off before they could fall back into their Hekyl and Jekyl
routine. God knows we didn't want that quoted in the paper.

"Mr. Morgan, whether or not there is any truth to the rumors you're trying
to pass off as a story, we can't answer right now, either way," I said. "A
decision like this involves the entire band, and isn't to be made lightly
in some diner over coffee. Could we have some time to think about it?"

He chewed this over for a minute.

"I'll give you until the awards next week," he said.

"That's acceptable," I said, pushing Joey to slide out of the booth.

"Let's shake on it," Basil said, holding out his hand.

I stared at it distastefully.

"I'd rather not," I said. "It's kind of slimy here, and not very healthy,
either. I think my friends and I are going to leave now. I feel like a
shower."

His face turned about three shades of red, but he didn't move to stop us as
the three of us stood. I threw some money on the table, and we walked out
of the restaurant, Chris and Joey on either side of me. Once we got
outside, Joey pointed out his car, and we all waited to speak until we were
inside, with the doors closed and the windows up.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Chris asked from the back seat.

"Leaving? I think it was a great idea," Joey said. "And there isn't enough
soap in the world to make me shake his hand."

"Jack?" Chris prompted.

"It bought us some time and got us out of the diner," I said, leaning
against the side of the car.

"That was kind of intense," Joey said. "We heard all of it, Jack. Are you
ok?"

"I think so," I said. "I got over Peyton a long time ago, but I can't
believe he still hates me this much."

"Maybe it's because he's so sick," Joey suggested.

"Not to be rude, but what the hell are you guys doing here?" I asked. "How
did you know where to find me?"

Joey glanced at Chris in the rearview mirror.

"We have a confession to make," Chris began. "We've been keeping a couple
secrets, too."

"When you stayed with me the other night, you had that card with you," Joey
said.  "While you were sleeping, I read it, and after that Chris and I went
to do some checking."

"Checking?" I asked.

"I can't believe you didn't know," Joey said. "It was right in front of you
on my to-do list. You left a note right next to it. Talk to Bruce and
Stacy? Take Chris to Wilshire?  None of this registered with you?"

"Actually, no," I said, feeling stupid. "But how did you know what was
going on? I didn't really tell Bruce and Stacy anything."

"When you were gone the other night we snuck into your apartment and found
the rest of the cards in your suitcase," Chris said.

"You what?" I asked. "You went through my stuff? How did you even get in?"

"We still had the spare key we borrowed from Jackie to deliver the Kinky
Lovin' Kit," Joey said.

I didn't know what to think, but I was mostly starting to feel
pissed. Chris had lectured me about keeping secrets, and then had broken
into my apartment and gone through my stuff?

"Jack, I know what you're thinking," Chris began. "I know we argued about
trust, but Joey and I were worried about you. We talked it over, and we
decided it was worth the risk."

"Oh, you decided?" I said. "But when I decided that, it wasn't good enough
for you."

"Jack, can we call a truce on that?" Chris asked.

"Why?" I asked. "Why is it suddenly ok?"

"Because of some other talks that Chris had today," Joey said, as Chris
squirmed uncomfortably in the back seat. "I had a long talk with him about
why you might be keeping secrets, and how they really might not be yours to
tell."

"We also talked to Lance this morning," Chris said quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"We talked to Lance," Chris repeated. "He called us both this morning."

"What did he tell you?" I asked.

"Not everything," Joey said.

"But he did say he'd be away for a while, and that you were helping him
with it," Chris said. "Jack, why didn't you come to us if Lance needed
help?"

"Because Lance didn't want me to," I said. It was almost true. Lance didn't
want me to tell anyone after he found out I knew, so I could assume he
didn't want me to all along.  "It wasn't my secret to tell."

"Jack, I'm sorry I pushed you on that," Chris said quietly.

We rode in silence for a minute.

"Apology accepted," I said quietly.

"So, what do we do now?" Joey asked. "I mean, other than go home, get
dinner, get drunk, and have some strippers over."

I smiled.

"I need to pack, guys," I said. "I'm going to fly out and see Josh
tomorrow, and I need to pack, and get ready to meet his family."

"They invited you out?" Chris asked.

"That's great," Joey added, smiling.

"I'm scared shitless," I confessed. "I've never gone home to meet a guy's
family before.  I'm terrified that I'm going to say the wrong thing, or
embarrass him, or something."

"You'll be fine," Chris said. "You're clean, you're friendly, and you dress
well."

"Yeah, as long as you don't introduce yourself as the boy who sodomizes
their son, they should love you," Joey said seriously. I punched him in the
arm as Chris fought not to giggle.

"Jerk," I said, grinning.

We pulled in back at the apartment building, and I left them to make dinner
plans. I promised to go with them, wherever they decided, because I did
want to see them again before I left, and then I spent the rest of the
afternoon packing. I called Carla to let her know that I had successfully
met up with my stalker, and I poured out the whole sordid story for her.

"I didn't even know Peyton knew where you lived!" she said.

"I know," I agreed. "It was creepy."

I realized that, more than anything, I was sad for Peyton, not only sad
that he was dying but also sad that he was devoting so much of his energy
to hating me. Carla, ever the optimist, pointed out that maybe his hate was
keeping him alive. While I was talking about Peyton, though, I realized
that I was also thinking about Justin, and how I felt about him. I was
still angry, hurt, and disappointed by the things he had done, but I was
torn, because I also still felt like his friend. I was torn between
forgiving him and writing him off, and I decided that I needed to talk to
him, to try to settle things, before I left.  Finishing up my packing, I
answered the door buzzer, and went down to sign for my plane ticket to
Chicago.

On my way back up the stairs, I walked past my door, and knocked on
Justin's. He opened the door and stared down at me, being a little
taller. He looked very young in his ripped jeans and plain white
undershirt, and he looked very alone. His eyebrows went up when he saw me,
but he didn't speak.

"Justin?" I began. "Can I talk to you?"

He continued to stare at me, as if weighing his answer.

"Please?" I asked. "I'm not going to beg, Justin, but I'd like to talk to
you."

"Fine," he said coldly, stepping aside. "Come on in."

He walked away from me, not staying to press into my space, or even to make
eye contact with me. Justin walked across the living room and sat in one of
the chairs, folding his legs up under him. I'd never seen him sit like
that, ever, in a way that didn't stretch any of his clothing across him or
emphasize any part of his body. I wondered if the absence of game playing
constituted yet another form of manipulation, and then wondered if I was
giving Justin too much credit. I suddenly realized that change in him I'd
noticed at the door. For once, he didn't seem to be radiating that sense of
self- confidence and self-importance. It was like he didn't know how to
relate to me at all.

I sat across from him on the couch.

"Justin, I didn't want to leave without trying to talk to you again," I
began, watching him.  He wasn't sneering, but he wasn't smiling. "What I
said to you last night, for the most part, was pointless, mean-spirited,
and kind of rude. I was pretty frustrated over some other stuff that's
going on, and I'm still upset about the way you treated Lance. It's not the
way I want things to settle between us."

"Would you rather just slap me again?" he asked quietly. "Nobody's ever
done that to me before."

"Nobody's ever slapped you?" I asked. I found that hard to believe.

"Not in anger," he said, shrugging. "Not someone I thought was my friend."

We both stared at the floor for a minute.

"Justin, I don't know how I feel about you," I said carefully. "I don't
understand the things you do, or the way you treat people. I don't know
what happened to you, or what made you like you are. I feel very confused
about it, and that's kind of why I've been so hot and cold toward you the
past couple days."

Justin continued staring at me. I didn't know if my words were having any
effect or not, but it felt good to get them out.

"I'm confused because that's not always the way you are, and I don't know
if it's the way you have to be," I continued. "Justin, I've seen you be a
friend to me, and a friend to Josh. I've seen you listen to us, and be
there for us, and I can't reconcile that with the person I saw the other
day in Lance's room. I'm stuck, because I don't know if I was wrong about
you, or if you're wrong about yourself."

I stood.

"I guess that's really all I wanted to say, Justin," I said, staring down
at him. "I don't know if we're still friends. I don't know if I want to be
your friend, or if I trust you enough to open up to you again, or if you
even know what a friend is or should be."

He still didn't say anything, and I started to walk away.

"Jack?" Justin asked quietly, voice neutral. "When do you fly out?"

"Joey and Chris are going to take me to the airport tomorrow morning," I
answered.

"Are you still going to tell Josh?" Justin asked, face blank. He didn't
look imploring, or conniving, or any of the things I would have
expected. "Tell him everything?"

"Yes," I said simply. "I have to, Justin. Once you tell the first lie, the
next one is that much easier, and that's not the kind of relationship I
want to build with Josh. What we have is too important to me to play games
with. I love Josh for who he is, and I want him to feel the same way about
me. Goodbye, Justin."

"Goodbye, Jack," he said, looking away. He hadn't moved from his chair.

I stopped at the door.

"Justin, they say that the truth sets people free," I said. "Maybe you
should think about it."

I closed the door, and then put in a call to Dr. Centano to check on the
clinic's visitation policy. I wanted to stop and see Lance before I left,
too, and I was surprised to discover that I was the only person on his
approved visitor list.

"That was Lance's choice," Dr. Centano explained. "He told me a little bit
about your past history, and I thought you should know that he has a great
deal of respect for you.  Not to overinflate your ego, but I think right
now if we asked Lance he'd say that you were his hero."

"Me?" I asked, grabbing the car keys and walking down to the parking lot.
"But I didn't do anything."

"Quite the contrary, Jack," Dr. Centano continued. "The way that Lance
tells it, you tried to help him. You sought him out, and tried to protect
him, while he tried to push you away, and you did it all after he was
profoundly hurtful to you and to your lover."

"Boyfriend," I corrected absently.

"Sorry," he said. "Lance's word. What I'm trying to say, Jack, is that you
helped Lance, and I think you're the first person in a long time who has."

"Well, he needed help," I said. "Anyone would have done it. I couldn't just
leave him."

"I don't think anyone would have stood up to a friend to protect someone
they admittedly didn't even like, but I'm not going to argue this point
with you," Dr.  Centano said, and I could hear him smiling through the
phone. "I think that a visit from you, especially if you're going away for
a few days, would do Lance a lot of good."

"I'm on my way out right now," I said, pulling into traffic. I put the
phone on speaker, since driving out here was enough to give me a
breakdown. On the plus side, I was on my way to a psychiatric facility, so
there couldn't be a better time for one.  "I know that you're not allowed
to discuss the specifics of his case with me or anything, but how is Lance?
How is he doing? Is he going to be ok?"

"Actually, Lance has authorized me to share any information with you that
you may request," he answered. "He said you wouldn't ask if you didn't need
to know.  Without going into too much detail, I think Lance is going to
need a lot of help, for a long time.  The immediate crisis has more or less
passed, but he has a lot of identity and trust issues that he has been
struggling with for many years. He's going to need a lot of support, as
well, but I think he's well on his way, overall."

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, sighing. "I'll be out there shortly."

I called Chris next, to tell them I'd be out for a little while, but that
I'd be back in time for dinner. Chris wanted to go out for Italian, but
Joey wanted to stay in and order Thai, and the two of them were demanding
that I cast the deciding vote. I opted for Italian, listening to Joey
squeal and groan in the background.

"Somewhere quiet!" I stipulated. "I don't want to see another reporter as
long as I live, ok?"

"Ditto," Chris said. "I'll call and get us some reservations."

When I got to the clinic, Lance was waiting at the door, sitting outside on
the step in the sunshine. He looked better, not a lot, but a little. He at
least looked like he'd slept. He smiled when he saw me pull up in his car.

"I didn't think you'd mind if I was using it to come visit you," I said,
getting out.

"I don't," he said, hugging me quickly. It was an awkward hug, as he didn't
seem really sure of what he should do, or really comfortable with it, but
he initiated it, so I tried to respond in kind, not wanting him to feel
rejected.

"So, how are you doing?" I asked, following him as we began to walk down a
little pathway around the side of the house.

"Better," he answered, smiling again. They were just tiny smiles, his lips
barely curling, no teeth out, but I hadn't seen Lance smile at all on my
trip out here, except for the cameras. "It's nice here. It's quiet, and
I've met some nice people. Mostly all I've done since yesterday is just
talk."

"To Dr. Centano?" I asked.

"Not just him," Lance said. "I went to group this morning. I didn't really
talk to anyone, I mostly just listened, but they all seem like nice
people."

"Are you going to stay here for a while?" I asked.

"I'm not sure yet," he answered. "I feel safe here. I don't want to go home
yet."

"I'm not telling you to," I said. "Do whatever you're most comfortable
with."

We talked for a while, mostly about nothing. Lance thanked me about ten
times for bringing him here, until I asked him to please, please stop doing
it. As the staff began walking around to quietly inform people that dinner
was about to be served, I gave Lance a quick hug goodbye, and told him to
call if he needed anything. I also told him that I was planning to tell
Josh everything, and asked if he would mind.

"Why are you going to tell him?" Lance asked.

"I don't want there to be secrets between Josh and I," I answered. "I won't
tell him if you don't want me to, but I think he should know about what
Justin's done."

Lance mulled it over for a minute.

"OK," he said. "I understand that. When you get back, is Josh coming with
you?"

"Yes," I said. "We're flying back together."

"Do you think he might want to see me?" Lance asked quietly. "I want to
talk to him, if he does."

"Of course he will, Lance," I said. "I know he will."

We said goodbye after that, and I headed back to the apartment building.
Chris and Joey were waiting for me, Joey making a last minute plea for
Thai, but his please fell on deaf ears. The three of us had a quiet,
relaxing dinner together, at a little tiny restaurant pretty far off any of
the beaten paths I'd learned in the city. I asked if they had invited
Justin, but Chris said Justin had opted out, wanting to spend some time
alone. I hoped that was a positive sign that he was at least thinking about
what I said.

In the morning, Chris and I went on our run, together again. I felt as good
about the company as I did from the exercise. Afterward we took quick
showers, and then Joey insisted that he and Chris both take me to the
airport. At the airport I hugged them both, and thanked them for
everything, and for being my friends, and then I got on the plane. I read
through most of the flight, and tried to sleep a little. It wasn't a long
flight, for which I was thankful, and I was tingling with anticipation as
we landed and taxied in.

As the announcement came for us to leave the plane, a flight attendant
appeared at my chair. Josh, of course, had put me in first class, so I had
no idea if she was supposed to be there or not.

"Mr. Springer? I'm to escort you to a separate part of the airport to meet
your party," she said.

I nodded, and followed her. We left through the same door as the other
passengers, but veered off almost immediately into a maze of
hallways. Following her down one after another of them, she finally showed
me into a large, private lounge, where Josh was waiting. He turned toward
me, rising up out of his seat, and smiled, his eyes sparkling as I ran over
to him and wrapped my arms around him.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, holding me tightly.

"Hi," I answered.

Everything was going to be ok.

***

I'm back from my vacation! I'll probably be a couple of days getting back
to everyone who wrote, though.

More to come soon.