Date: Mon, 19 Jun 2000 14:54:08 -0700
From: Dayse Craze <msjingles@angelfire.com>
Subject: "Superman Can't Fly" - final

Disclaimer:  This is a work of complete fiction.  The
characters and situations portrayed are by no means
meant to offend or be taken as truth.  Any similarity
to those mentioned is purely coincidental.  I do not
know of the sexual orientation of any NSYNC members or
that of any character mentioned.

Author's Notes:  Well, this is it folks - the final
chapter in "Superman Can't Fly".  Thank you to all
those who have sent me feedback, and thank you to all
those who have just read the story and enjoyed it.  I
would just like to thank once again Clive, Tom, Fuzz,
Chris, DLS, Mike, and all those who have helped me so
much - you're a great bunch of peeps :)

To those I have met writing this story, and have
written me with every new installment - swelling my
head considerably (thank you, I can no longer leave
my room - lol) - big thanks.  LOL - I even got a
marriage proposal! <wink>

Here are some of the great stories I have read on
Nifty, it's a small list because I haven't read much,
but it's one I stick by :)

"Warmest Eyes"
"Lucas and Joey"
"NSYNC Saga"
"Choices"
"Love NSYNC"


===========================
Superman Can't Fly
By Dayse
===========================


"They sure are taking their time," JC
said, almost to himself.  Joey had
walked out after Lance nearly twenty
minutes ago, and neither man had yet
to return.

Justin didn't seem to hear, his eyes
were transfixed on Chris.  "JC?"

"Think they're arguing?"

"JC.."

"Fuck, I hope they aren't doing anything
_stupid_..."

"JC!  Call the doctor, I think Chris
is waking up..." Justin's voice was
little more than a whisper, as if he was
afraid that to talk louder would somehow
cause Chris to fall back into his sleep.

Snapping out of his distraction, JC
rushed back to Chris' bedside and leaned
in eagerly, "Chris?  Bro, you hear me?"

But the only response was a slight
flutter of Chris' one good eye as it
seemed to dart back and forth without
really seeing anything.

"Chris?" Justin said, a little louder,
"It's me, Justin.  Come back to us,
man..."

The eye closed once again and Chris
was unconscious, JC and Justin slumped
back.  "Doctor told us he would do
that," JC muttered, in a vague attempt
to reassure.  "It'll be a while before
he's fully awake."

With a tired nod, Justin sank into his
seat and just continued to watch, his
eyes distant, vacant.  The silence
stretched so long between them that
JC actually gave a slight jump when
Justin spoke.

"Why did you tell me you wanted Joey?"

JC blinked, "Uh, I - 'cause it's the
truth."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really, man.  Why?  You, uh,
got a problem with it?"

Justin thought a moment, his face oddly
blank.  He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I
do.  Kinda.  But not in the way you're
probably thinking."  JC could tell that
Justin meant what he was saying, but he
still got the impression that the other
man was not entirely with him in the
conversation - but rather that the talk
was just a distraction from worrying
about Chris.  JC could empathize.

Pulling a chair up closer to the other
man he prodded gently, "Okay, bro.  I'm
all ears, what's the problem?"

"You guys are all like brothers to me, ya know?
Well, fuck, Josh...it's like walking in on your
Goddamn parents or something, I don't know if
I wanna see you and Joey getting all freaky in
front of me and stuff." Justin bit his lip,
looked down at his lap, "Sorry, that sounded
harsh.  But I'm a little..."

"Don't apologize, you're entitled," JC said,
interrupting him.  He folded his hands on his
lap and shook his head, "And you gotta point,
if the situation were reversed...I'd probably
feel the same way.  Truth is, Just, I don't
know what's going to happen."  That was the
God's honest truth, too.  Joey was off
somewhere with Lance rather then with him at
that very moment.  Also, they hadn't even
kissed -- the moment having been interrupted.
By Lance.

Justin nodded, mostly to himself, and his eyes
never drifted from Chris' prone form.  He sat
slumped in his chair, there were bags under
his eyes and he hadn't changed clothes.  They
were still bloody.  "What about Lance?  He's...
he's got something with Joey too, right?"

Another jolt of insecurity caused JC to glance
towards the door, he was tempted to go search
for them.  "Yeah.  Yeah, he does."  JC grimaced
in guilt.  He had known Lance had feelings
towards Joey, had known apparently before even
Lance himself, but...Lance hadn't done anything
about it.  If the two of them had _already_
been involved in something, JC never would of
made a move, but since they weren't...wasn't it
every man for himself?  Besides, it wasn't as if
Joey hadn't reciprocated, there were obviously
feelings from him too.

"This isn't going to be easy for him," Justin
was saying.  "Lance, I mean.  Seeing the two of
you together."  Then, in quiet voice added,
"It's going to be weird.  Sorry, man, I got
nothing `gainst a person's preferences, but...
this just came outta left field, okay?  It's
going to take some getting use to."

JC silently nodded, feeling that there really
wasn't anything more to be said.  Truth be
told, considering all else that was going on,
Justin was taking it rather well.  Maybe that
would change once things calmed down and he
could think without distraction but JC liked
to believe he knew him pretty well, and Justin
was a good person.  He wouldn't do or say
anything that wasn't what he believed to be
the honest to God truth.

Still, it'd be good if Joey could talk to him,
too.  Justin had always looked up to Joey, in
a weird, big goofy brother sorta way.  Even
when Joey told a stupid joke that was funny
only to him, or tripped over his own feet and
fell on his ass, Justin never seemed to stop
thinking he was just about the coolest guy in
the world.

So where the Hell was he?






It hurt.  Lance coughed and felt blood splatter
across his hand, it was thick and choking in
his throat.  Moaning loudly and grimacing with
even the slightest of movements, Lance slowly
opened his eyes and was momentarily at a loss
for where he was.  The pain in his back told him
that he hadn't been dreaming, it was all too
real.

His cheek pressed hard against the cold asphalt
and his back straining with a sharp, intense
pain, Lance's legs pulled up underneath him into
an instinctive fetal position.

"Jo-ey...?"  His voice came out as a low,
inaudible gurgle.  Trying to call again only
caused another hard cough and another spray of
blood.

He blinked.  He gasped.  He bled more and more.
His jacket felt heavy on top of him, it was
soaked through, his legs tingled distantly and
it hurt to move them, he shivered from cold.
"Joey...help..."  God, I'm hurt, Lance closed
his eyes.  Someone help me, what happened?  I'm
hurt, I'm hurt...

The sound of feet scraping against pavement
and a howl of pain caused Lance's eyes to
open again and through the dark edges of his
vision he could just make out two figures
fighting a few feet away.  One of them was
Joey, the other was Anthony.

Anthony.

It became clear.  He had been kissing Joey,
had him backed against a wall, when something
hit him hard and quick from behind.  There
was pain, a very, very bad pain, and then
Joey's face was looming over his -- dark and
worried.  Then everything had gone black.

Now, there they were.

Watching with helpless alarm as Anthony beat
Joey's head off the brick wall, a move that
should of knocked him unconscious but didn't,
(thank God for Joey's thick skull) Lance's
hand scraped pavement.  He had to get up, he
had to help somehow.

Then, in a move that was definitely inspired,
Joey uppercut the bastard in the balls.
Hard.  Lance almost smiled, he cheered
silently and it added to his inspiration to
try and get up.

Anthony had fallen to the floor grabbing his
crotch, but Joey was stumbling as well.  He
walked as if on a tight-rope towards the same
wall he had been pushed against, his hand
scrambling for the phone.  Lance's breath
caught in his throat when Joey picked it up.

Yes, Joey, for God sakes...

Lance's arms grew numb, it was getting colder
and colder and he couldn't bring himself to
move again.  It hurt too much and he was too
tired.  He slumped down, felt his stomach
land in a puddle that could only be his own
blood.  Like Chris, he thought bleakly, I'm
dying like Chris.

As he started to black out again, the last
thing Lance saw was Anthony dragging Joey
over to the ledge of roof, one hand on his
arm, the other on the back of his shirt.  He
hung him over the edge, and he laughed.

He looked like Lex Luther.





"That's quite a drop, kiddo," Anthony said,
a smile in his voice.  "Think you'll go
splat or crunch?"

God it was hard to stay awake, but Joey
managed to mumble an answer.  "A little bit
of column A, a little bit o'column B..."
If I grab him at the right time, and if I
push off with my toes, I might be able to
take him with me - we'll both die.  Splat,
crunch.  Joey almost giggled.  Yes, Joey
tiredly decided, fuck you Anthony.  FUCK
YOU.  I'll see you in Hell....

Anthony's mouth was at his ear again, and
Joey tried to shift his head away, only to
find that it was useless - Anthony only
followed his movements.  "You wanna know
something, Joseph?  I never liked you.  Not
you or your crew.  You were a bunch of
pussies - singing like girls, thinking you
were such hot shit.  Sonya was just a part
of it, I think I'll like killing you just
`cause you're _you_."

The city looked bright from the roof, the
lights blinked prettily against a black
backdrop of sky and stars.  Headlights
from cars rushed over an invisible highway,
skyscrapers were dark, shadowy giants.  At
least Anthony Pazzari's face would not be
the last thing he saw before he died.

Sharp teeth dug into his earlobe, and
Anthony's voice became soft, almost
seductive.  "Enough talk," he hushed.
"Bye, Joey."

Joey sang. "Bye bye bye..."

As he felt Anthony start to push and let go,
he reached up and snagged the other man's
sleeve, holding on to it with all his
strength and pushing off as hard as he could
with his toes...Fuck you, you son of a bitch,
Joey thought.  Here we go...

They started to go over together.  The
momentum of Joey's falling body was more
then enough to topple Anthony with him and
the other man let out a sound of pure terror
and anger, his expression was one of pained
surprise.  This wasn't the way it was suppose
to go, he must of been thinking.  This wasn't
the way...

Joey felt oddly serene, the world turned
upside down on him and he could feel a
rush of wind run all through his body.  He
felt weightless - he was floating.
Flying.  Falling.

Anthony reached for something sturdy to
grab onto...and missed.

A face flashed through Joey's mind, clear
and focused as if he were standing in
front of the person right then, and he
closed his eyes...It wasn't a face he had
expected to see.

Then, something grabbed his arm, tight.
He felt his body rebound off the side of
the building as his fall was halted
abruptly and his legs dangled heavily with
nothing to support them.  His foot whipped
through a window, breaking the glass and
sending shards of it down below.

Snapping his head up in surprise, Joey's
eyes widened.  "Jesus Christ!"  It's a
miracle, his muddied mind told him, you
fucking lucky bastard, it's a miracle!
His arm screamed out in pain, the hand
that was clenched around his was like an
iron shackle.

"Oh ... " Lance's face was twisted with
pain, there were tears of effort running
down his face as he held onto Joey with
both arms.  "Oh...I can't...Joey, I can't
hold on..."

Lifting his free arm, Joey tried to grab
for the edge, to pull himself up, but it
was too hard, he was fading fast...already
everything seemed dream-like and light.
His fingers didn't work, they slid easily
off the slick surface and he couldn't keep
his grip.

Anthony screamed most of the way down,
there was a crash as his body hit the
street.  Both men could hear the screams
and yells of the people down below.
Joey wondered if he had gone splat or
crunch.

"Joe..." Lance's voice was a whisper,
his hand and Joey's hand were both wet
with blood and sweat.  "Joey..."

The grip was loosening, both were near
passing out.  Lance looked down at him
at the precise moment Joey looked up
and a silent message passed between
them.  This would be a good time to say
goodbye...

With a choked sob of pain and misery,
Lance could only reach helplessly out as
Joey began to slip from his grasp
further until he was holding onto
fingers only.  God, don't let me drop
him, Lance prayed, God, you better
listen, don't let me drop him...

Fingertips now...and Joey was starting
to fall again...he closed his eyes...
he could feel and hear his knuckles pop
out of their joints as they now supported
all his dead weight.  Lance couldn't hold
onto him, he was too heavy and Lance
was too injured.  Die, Joey thought,
I'm going to die...Lance let go.

Joey caught his breath, expecting to fall
and for a brief terrifying moment he was,
but suddenly: there was a new grip.  It
felt like steel, like life.  Joey opened
his eyes and he looked up in open mouthed
shock for the second time that night.  You
_are_ a lucky bastard.  Luckier then you
deserve...

"JC?"

Lance was slumped unconscious or dead
over the ledge, his arm hanging down as if
still reaching for him, and JC was pulling
Joey up slowly, grunting from the effort
with both feet planted firmly against the
wall for leverage.

"Jesus, Joey...come on, I got ya!"

Gathering together everything he had left,
Joey grabbed at the ledge again as he
was pulled further up and helped to get
himself over onto the roof with a great
and final tug, not quite able to stop the
cry of agony the effort caused.  JC
collapsed back, breathing hard from fear
and effort and Joey lay next to him, his
own heart jack-hammering in his chest.

JC was at his side in a flash, trying to
get his attention as Joey's eyes
fluttered and blinked rapidly.  "Joey?
Come on, Supe, speak to me..."  His
fingers dug hard into Joey's shoulders,
he couldn't believe how close he had
been - if he had come just a second
later then he'd of fallen.

"JC?  Lance?" Joey tried to move his arm
to gesture, but found he couldn't.  JC
wiped the blood from his eyes and face,
using the back of his sleeve, "How's
Lance?"

Moving quickly to his other friend's side,
he took his pulse with a shaking hand,
held it there for a long time.  He looked
back down at Joey who was watching him
with wide, frightened eyes.

"Phone," Joey managed, he inclined his
head, "Get help..."

JC tugged Lance off the side of the roof
and placed him back gently on his back.
Then he rushed to the phone, but it
turned out not to be necessary.  The door
to the roof burst foreword and several
police offers and a white-coated team
with a stretcher rushed out towards them.

"Lance...help Lance first," Joey's eyes
started to close and he reached up for
JC's hand which was taken quickly and
held in a firm, steady grip.  "Josh..."

"Yeah?" JC leaned in close, he couldn't
seem to get rid of the fear, the quake
in his stomach.  God, Joey, that was so,
so close...and Lance, Jesus...what did
that bastard do to you two?

With his face mere inches away, Joey
used the last of his strength to tilt
his head up and kiss him gently on the
lips.  A stretcher crashed down next to
him, Lance's limp body was lifted up
onto it and another doctor was trying
to pry JC away from Joey's side, but
he refused to go.

"Joey?" he prompted softly, tasting
blood on his lips.  Joey's blood.

"I got the bastard."  But there was no
satisfaction in his voice, just a soft,
reflective sorrow.  A final breath of
exhaustion escaped his lips before Joey
slumped back, his eyes closed with the
blissful escape of sleep.






***Four Days Later***





The funeral procession marched grimly
down the Florida street, men and women
dressed in dark dresses and suits
followed the hearse with their heads
bowed and hands clasped in front of them.

It was a good turn out.  Friends, family
- mourners from as far as New York.  Half
the people couldn't believe it, the other
half were just too caught up in their own
misery to care how he had died, just that
he had died.  Flowers decorated the
casket and cars, there was a grimness as
heavy in the air as rain.  Joey had no
idea that he had been as close to as many
people as this, that the funeral would be
anything like this.

Dressed in his own black suit and carrying
a bouquet of yellow roses, Joey walked
alone behind the hearse, his steps a dull
echo on the street as he marched.  There
were several people watching from the
side-walk, many of which he recognized as
fans.  But, thankfully, they were being
respectful, quiet.  Funeral-like.  If they
had started screaming or asking for
autographs, Joey didn't know what he would
of done.

The photographers and reporters on the
other hand, were merciless.  Blubs
flashed, news reports babbled nonesense
into black, dead-eyed lenses, and Joey
could feel that he was being watched.

He ignored it as best he could, continuing
his stone-faced march to the graveyard
where the casket would be buried.

When they reached it, the wrought iron
gates were closed behind them and for a
blissful moment, there was peace.  No
noise was heard except for the gentle fall
of footsteps as people got into place
around the empty grave.  Folding chairs
had been set-up, but Joey chose to stand.

He was left alone.  And again, Joey was
grateful.

Listening half-heartedly as the priest
talked, Joey just kept going back to that
night on the roof.  He had thought he was
going to die, had been sure of it.  And
so...he had decided to take Anthony with
him.  The issue struggled to resolve
itself in his mind.  On one hand...Anthony
had tried to kill him, had nearly succeeded.
But he hadn't.  So...was Joey a murderer?
The police assured him it was self-defence,
but Joey wasn't sure.  It didn't FEEL like
self-defence, not when he was alive and
Anthony was not.  Not when he had,
moments before Anthony was about to push
him, decided that he would kill Anthony
too if he could.

And Lance.  Joey cast a look at the black,
slick coffin; the priest had finished
talking and it was starting to lower into
the ground.  If it hadn't been for Lance
and JC, he would certainly of died.

Lance.  I'm sorry, Joey thought.  I'm so
sorry, it's my fault you're...

He was in line, he found himself moving
towards the open grave where the coffin
had settled before he realized he was
doing it.  Flowers gripped tightly in
hand, his eyes hidden behind a pair of
dark, non-reflective sunglasses, Joey
stood over the grave looking down into
its dark, merciless depths.  No one
would crawl out of there.  No one would
miraculously open the coffin lid and
pop up with a happy smile.  No one.

Bringing the roses up to his mouth,
Joey kissed the petals lightly and then
let the drop into the grave.  He
watched as they seemed to fall for a
very long time.  They hit the lid
silently.

He closed his eyes, made the sign of
the cross, and said a silent prayer
for the dead - his lips moving easily
over the words.

"Maggio Dio avere pieta' avanti tuo
cuore."*

He left.








"Hey Chris -- you look like Wyle E. Coyote!"

"Super geeeenius!"

Chris stuck out his tongue at Justin and JC's
smiling faces and raised a weak arm to brush
them the finger.  "Sure, kick a man when he's
down."

Justin reached out and lightly ruffled his
hair, making extra sure not to touch any
bandages.  "I don't think you need anymore
of that.  Kicking that is."

The room that Chris had been moved to
earlier that day was significantly nicer and
sunnier then the one he had occupied while
in ICU.  The whole place was decorated with
flowers, cards, balloons, stuffed animals
and various other gifts from fans and well
wishers.  Chris had to admit that when he
looked around at all the wild stuff, it made
him feel pretty good.  It was nice to know
that so many people cared.

"You do look better though," JC said.  "A
lot of the bruising's gone down, and the
doctor even said that the cut on your face
wouldn't scar."

Chris frowned, touched his stomach lightly.
"Yeah, but this one will."  Then he shrugged,
smiled.  "But hey!  It'll give me a cool
story to tell the hunnies..."

"Yeah, as if everyone in the WORLD doesn't
know what happened by now," Justin shook
his head in awe.  "Jesus Christ, I heard
they might even make a movie of the week
outta it.  How some crazy nut from Joey's
past wreaked havoc on the NSYNC group."

"Great, Joey'll just love that."  JC rolled
his eyes and sat on the edge of Chris' bed.
"Speaking of which, where is he anyway?"

"Probably harassing the nurses again,"
Chris smiled.  "God, I'm so glad he's okay.
Not to mention Lance.  Ouch, I know where
he's coming from."  His expression grew
dark.  "I'm glad Anthony, that bastard, is
dead, Joey shouldn't feel guilty `bout
nothin'.  Look at what that creep did to
all of us!"

JC sighed.  "Of course he's going to feel
guilty, man, he killed somebody."

"He did what he had to."

"Try telling him that," JC said.  "But he's
dealing, we all are."  The thing with
Anthony was eating at him; even dead the
bastard still got to their friend.  "Hey,
I'm going to visit with Lance for a bit,"
he smirked at Chris.  "I think you've been
blessed with enough of my company for now."

Chris made a face and waved him away.  "Go,
for the love of God go before I have to
check into the psyche ward."

"You may want to consider doing that
anyway," Justin suggested, blinking
innocently.

Chuckling, JC clamped Chris' hand
briefly before turning to leave.  "You
wanna come with, Just?"

"Nah, I'll stick around here for a bit.
If I leave, Chris'll miss me."
"Like a nail in the head."  But Chris
couldn't hide his grateful smile and
JC left them as they chatted and bantered
happily.

It was starting to go back around to
normal again, and for that - they were
all relieved.  After everything that had
happened, "normal" had started to seem
like an impossible concept.

Making his way down the hall to Lance's
room, JC hesitated for the briefest of
moments before knocking.  At the low
`come in', JC entered, sticking his
head in first.

"Hey."  He smiled a greeting.  Lance
was sitting up in bed, looking
considerably better, with his laptop on
his knees.

"Hey," Lance returned.  "How's Chris?"

JC nodded, took a seat next to the bed.
"He's good.  How you doin'?  You look
good."

A light shrug and Lance traced the
pointer on screen with his finger, "I'm
better.  Still can't drink really cold
stuff, or eat solid food without feeling
sick, but better."

The two sat silently for a moment, both
feeling a little awkward.  JC rubbed the
back his neck, cleared his throat.  "Uh,
what are you, uh, doing there?  Shouldn't
you be taking it easy?" he asked,
gesturing towards the laptop.

"This is for Joey," Lance said softly.

JC looked skeptically.  "Your big plan
again?  Isn't it a little too late for
that?"

"No."  Lance looked darkly at the screen.
"He went to that bastard's funeral today,
he tell you that?  After all that's
happened he still feels guilty."

JC nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I tried to
talk him out of it, but..."

"Doctors gave him the okay so he went."
Lance snorted and looked out the window
of his room.  "I'm starting to think
he's a glutton for punishment."

"When it comes to Anthony and that
Sonya girl he is," JC said.

"That's exactly why this has to work,"
Lance nodded towards his laptop screen.
"The reason we were getting nowhere
with Joey before is because we thought
ANTHONY was the problem.  He isn't."

"He isn't?" JC said doubtfully.

Lance shook his head.  "No, if he was,
then Joey wouldn't be so broken up any
more.  He was just a part of it."  As
he shifted in bed, he grimaced in pain
and offered a weary smile.  "Okay, so
he was a BIG knife-toting, vengeance-
spitting part of the problem, but still
only a part."

"I don't get it, Lance." JC smiled.
"But then, I never seem to, huh?
Look, forget about that for now...I
think we need to talk."

Closing his laptop, Lance's expression
softened and he nodded his agreement.
"Yeah, I guess we do."

"We both seem to want the same thing,"
JC laughed.  "Fuck, who would of
thought it would be JOEY, though,
right?"

Joining in the laughter, Lance
smiled widely.  "Yeah, the big-nosed,
Superman-loving moron."

"He eats like a maniac."

"He can't walk five steps without
knocking something over or stepping
on someone's foot."

"He's a silly, silly person and his
jokes never make any sense."

"Couldn't articulate in an interview
if his life depended on it."

"Only guy in the world that would try
to play hide and go seek on a tour
bus..."

Lance and JC laughed again, but soon
it faded off into distant looks of
fondness.

Catching Lance mirroring his own
expression, JC shook his head sadly.
"We both got it bad, don't we?"

"Yeah.  But he's with you, not me."
Lance looked away again, his hands
clenched tightly on his lap.  "Why
didn't you tell me you felt the same
way about him?  Were you afraid that
I'd move in before you or something?"

The accusation should of made him
angry, but it only added to JC's
feelings of guilt. "It sorta came to
me all at once," JC said, trying to
put sense into his words.  "I just..
I looked at him that night, sleeping
on the couch, and..."  JC's words
trailed off, he shrugged haplessly.
"I'm sorry, Lance, I wish I could...
I wish I could explain it better to
you but honestly?  That's all I
got.  I didn't mean to diss you.  Do
you hate me?  Are you mad?"

Lance considered for a moment before
shaking his head slowly.  "JC, if
someone had asked me a few days ago
I would of said that Anthony Pazzari
was the SECOND person in the world to
stab me in the back..." JC flinched
as if struck, "but I don't feel that
way anymore," Lance continued.  "No,
I'm not mad.  But I have to ask:  Do
you love him?  And I don't mean 'love'
as in platonic, if there even is such
thing.  I mean...love.  With a capital
'L'."  Lance held his breath, waiting
and dreading JC's answer.

JC swallowed, fiddled with his hands,
"Yeah, Lance.  I - I think I do.  And
trust me, no one's more surprised at
that then I am...I thought it was just
a lust/sex thing.  That sorta stuff I
can deal with...but when I saw him up
on that roof, about to fall to his
death..." Lance had to strain to hear
JC's voice.  "I can't imagine him not
being around anymore, Scoop, and I
can't imagine being able to deal with
something like that."

"How did you know we'd be up there,
anyway?" Lance asked, trying to keep
his own voice calm.  "We could of
been anywhere."

JC just smiled.  "Don't all the great
action flicks end on a roof?  Good Guy
Vs. Bad Guy -- the final showdown?"  He
shook his head.  "Nah, man.  I stepped
onto the elevator and some punk kid
had pressed all the buttons, it opened
up on the roof and I saw you hanging off
the side.  When I rushed up...you were
unconscious and Joey was falling."

"Fuck," Lance breathed.  "That...that's
..."

"Damn lucky."

"Yeah."  Lance's fingers drummed on the
surface of his laptop, he gazed out his
window.  "I love Joey, too.  It's...it's
gonna be hard to see the two of you
together.  But I won't do anything to
get in the way, I couldn't do that to
either of you."

It hurt to see his friend in such obvious
pain, a pain that JC knew he had a part
in causing, but he knew that he didn't
want to give up whatever he had with Joey.
If there was still something to be had,
that is.  A blind man could see that
there was obviously something between him
and Lance...Lance had been the first
person Joey had asked about when he had
woken up.  Lance had been the first person
Joey had asked JC about when he had pulled
him from the ledge of the roof.

"Maybe it's me that should stay out of
your way," he said softly.  "I don't know
where I stand with Joey anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious there's something between
you."  JC met Lance's eyes.  "You gonna
tell me that nothing happened up there on
the roof that night?"

"You mean before or after I was fucking
KNIFED?" Lance snapped, but almost
immediately regretted the outburst.  "Sorry,
I didn't mean to blow up on you.  You're
right...something did happen.  But it
wasn't Joey's fault, I initiated it.  I
wish I could tell you I regret it, because
I don't want to hurt you - never, ever that
- but I don't."

"I can understand that," JC said softly.
He closed his eyes tiredly.  "God, this
whole thing is a mess, isn't it?  How did
things get so out of control?"

Lance just shook his head.  "So what do
you want to do?"

"This isn't our decision alone," JC said.
"Joey has to make a call."

Letting out a breath, Lance just lay back
against his pillows and closed his eyes.
"This...I feel like I'm in high-school
again, fighting over some girl."

JC smirked.  "I wouldn't let Joey here you
say that...I don't think he'd appreciate
the comparison."

Lance snickered, "No, I guess he wouldn't."
Opening his eyes, Lance glanced at JC
curiously.  "Do you think the funeral is
over yet?  How do you think it went?  Maybe
someone should of gone with him, this would
of been hard for him to deal with."

"He didn't want anyone to go," JC said.  "I
offered but he said he'd rather do it alone."

That sounded like Joey alright.  "He's
probably back by now.  Maybe you should go
look for him."  Lance flicked his eyes
upwards.  "If I know Joey, then he's up
there, brooding."

"Returning to the scene of the crime?  How
predictable."

Lance shrugged.  "He don't get no points
for creativity, man.  Go up and check on
the guy before he trips and falls off the
ledge himself."

By the tenseness of Lance's body, JC could
tell that he desperately wanted to go
himself and would if he was able - it took
a lot of class to step aside the way he
was doing.  "If I find him I'll send him
down to see you," JC said, although he
expected Joey would of done that anyway.
He held out his hand and Lance glanced
at it briefly before accepting it in a
firm, reassuring grasp.  "No matter what,"
JC said.  "You'll be my bro."

Lance nodded.  "No matter what."






He found him there, just like Lance said
he would, and JC felt a twitch of envy at
that - Lance had known something that he
hadn't.

Joey looked...good.  Or rather better then
he had been four days ago.  He was dressed
in black Armani with a white shirt and
solid black tie, he stood at a profile and
JC could see the square bandage on his
forehead, and the two butterfly bandages
on his cheek, his left hand was wrapped
up heavily with silver, clawed, splints.
The hospital had shaved his goatee to do
the stiches, he held a vaguely intimidating
look.  JC was reminded of a mobster,
standing over his territory.

As he walked up to him, Joey turned his
head slightly from the view of the city
towards JC, but it was impossible to tell
where he was looking from behind his dark
sunglasses.  JC stopped a few steps short
of him, keeping a good distance.

"Joey, how you doing?"

At first he didn't answer, with back
straight and shoulders squared he stood
as if at attention.  When he did speak,
his voice sounded like sand paper
smoothing over a marble table.  Hoarse
and destructive.  "I was expecting to see
blood."

Confused, JC frowned.  "What do you mean?"

"Up here," Joey gestured vaguely with
another head tilt.  "On the roof.  I was
expecting to see blood when I came up
here.  My blood, Lance's.  Maybe even
Anthony's although I hardly got one good
shot in on him.  But...they cleaned up
rather well, didn't they?"

Hesitantly.  "It's been four days, Joey."

"Yeah, guess it has."  He moved slowly
over to the ledge, and for a brief,
insane moment JC feared that he would
jump.  But Joey merely sat down, with his
hands now resting on his knees.

"How was the funeral?" JC said.

"Good turn-out.  Anthony had a lot of
friends, they all seemed surprised to
hear that he had done what he had done.
A few of the people from Brooklyn came
up for the funeral, too.  Apparently,
Anthony wanted to be buried here and not
back home, I'm not sure why -- bad
memories I guess."  Joey brought a hand
up to rub his smooth jaw, still unused
to the strange feeling of not scraping
hair with the gesture.

JC took a few steps closer, until he
was nearly looming over the other man.
"I talked to the cops yesterday.  They
went to Anthony's apartment and they
found all sorts of shit: surveillance
photos, schedules, bus and concert
tickets...They think Anthony might of
been stalking all of us for a very long
time."

"Damn," Joey blinked several times
behind his sunglasses, suddenly very
grateful he was wearing them - he didn't
want JC to see him break up, as if he
hadn't been doing enough of that lately.
It wouldn't surprise him one bit if all
the other guys had lost all respect for
him.

Regaining his composure Joey glanced
up.  "How's Lance doing?  He good?"

JC nodded.  "Lance is fine, you should
go down and see him later, talk to him
about...stuff."

"And Chris?  How's he doing?"

"Back to his wise-cracking self more or
less."  JC paused.  "He wants to see
you too, he's glad you're all right."

"I'm glad he is too, I'll drop in
on him later."  Joey paused to look out
silently on the city, his eyes running
over the same buildings and signs he had
seen the night he and Lance had nearly
died.  "You know I'm glad Anthony is
dead?  Does that make me just about the
biggest son of a bitch in the world or
what -- I totally fuck up the poor
bastard's life and now I'm glad he's
gone.  I feel like shit - I killed him.
I can't believe I killed him."

Coming up to sit next to him on the
ledge, JC squinted from the sun and
said, "You know it's not that cut and
dry, man.  He tried to kill you, you
acted in self-defence."

"Nah, I didn't."  Joey's voice was
grim.  "You don't get it, JC.  I was
fucked, it was over for me.  As I
looked down that night, I knew I'd be
going for a ride - there was no stopping
it.  So I decided that if I was gonna
die, I was gonna take Anthony with me.
I _wanted_ to kill him, `cause I thought
he was gonna kill me - was no `self-
defence' `bout it.  But...I didn't die.
Thanks to you and Lance my sorry ass was
spared.  But now Anthony's dead and here
I am -- glad he's not."

JC shook his head.  "Joey, that still
doesn't matter.  You never would of
been put in that situation to begin with
if Anthony hadn't come here trying to
kill you and everyone else..."

"...and Anthony wouldn't of come at all
if _I_ hadn't screwed up eight years
ago!" Joey let out a growl of frustration
and bolted to his feet where he started
to pace.  "Jesus Christ!  It doesn't get
better!  He's DEAD and BURIED and I went
to his fucking funeral and it doesn't get
BETTER!"

Standing as well, JC moved to put a hand
on Joey's shoulder.  "You don't have to
waste anymore energy on that bastard.
It's OVER."

"But it's not over," Joey said.  "I
still got something else to deal with,
to fix...The most important thing."
He sighed and took off his sunglasses,
wanting to look JC right in the eye.
"You and Lance.  I have to make that
right.  I don't want to hurt either of
you, not for anything."

His expression soft and hopeful, JC
gently pushed Joey to go on.  "Just
be honest.  If it's Lance that you'd
rather be with, I'll back away."

"It's not Lance."

"So I..."

"No."  Joey shook his head.  "JC,
it's not you, either.  It's both, it's
neither.  It's...over." Eyes deep with
regret, Joey strained to get out the
words without sounding like an idiot.
He wanted to say exactly how he was
feeling.  "I'm sorry for leading either
of you on, I hope you trust me when I say
that I didn't mean to.  I have been going
over and over this - this _thing_ in my
head and I just can't imagine a way of it
working without SOMEONE getting hurt or
without the group being affected.  The
guys are understanding, but this is too
much to ask of them.  So let's just
forget it all happened, Josh.  Let's
stick to being friends.  I'm going to
tell Lance the same thing."

He waited tensely for JC to reply,
watching carefully for a reaction.
It had been hard to get the words out,
and he could only hope that JC saw it
his way, saw where he was coming from.

The look on his face was one of
disbelief.  "After all that...after
everything that's happened - you can
just ignore it?  You can just pretend
it doesn't matter to you?"

Joey clenched his jaw.  "JC..."

"What's the matter with you?  How can
you just walk away and dismiss it all
like that?"  There was a pained
accusation in his eyes.  "Was it just
another conquest for you, is that it?
See how far you could push it, see how
far you could get me to play along?"

"How can you ask me that?  You _know_
how much you..." Joey shifted
uncomfortably.  "Look, Josh, you know
you mean a lot to me, do I have to
hit you over the head with it?"

"Then why this?"

"Because if something were to happen,
it wouldn't be just about us.  Or if
you want me to be blunt...it wouldn't
be about just me and Lance.  Stuff
like this effects the whole group."

JC's face fell.  "So you do ... it's
Lance."

"I didn't say that.'

"Then what the hell ARE you saying?"

"I'm saying that there is a lot more
involved here then just the three of
us!" Joey kicked at a stone by his foot
sending it spinning into the air.
"Goddamn it!  FUCK!  Why are you
making this so hard?!"

Crossing the space between them in
three quick strides, JC got into
Joey's face and jabbed him in the
chest to extenuate each word
spoken.  "I'll make it as hard as I
have to!  And Joey, quite frankly
Justin and Chris can go FUCK
themselves, this isn't about them!"
Justin's words came back to him,
whispering in the back of his mind
like conscience.

"We're a team!  Everything effects
everyone else."  Joey took JC's hand
away from punching into his chest and
held it tightly.  "You saved my life.
In more ways then one.  You also gave
me some great advise."

JC stayed silent.

"You told me that I can't go by gut
instinct alone, and Josh - I'm going
to take that advise again, now.
Everything inside me tells me that I
_should_ forget the others, that in
something like this their opinion
doesn't matter, and it shouldn't.
But you know what?  It does.  This
is the sort of thing that makes and
breaks bands like us.  Are you
willing to sacrifice everything
EVERYONE has worked for...for a
fling?"

"That's all you think it would be?
A fling?" JC asked quietly, even as
the truth of his words sank in.

"I think we both know what it would
be."  It was an obscure answer, one
that JC wasn't quite sure he got.
Like a lot of things Joey said it was
clear only to himself but JC didn't
push it.  He did understand where Joey
was coming from, and it hurt as much
as it made sense.

"It's not fair," JC said, pulling the
other man in close.  "I love you."

Joey tensed slightly before he smiled
and hugged him back.  "I love you
too, Josh."  He pulled away and
kissed him gently on the mouth, it
was like the kiss he had given him
that night a week ago when JC had
come into Joey's room to find him so
miserable, so guilty.  He rested his
forehead against JC's, closed his eyes.
"One more thing: I talked to Stan...
I'm going to go back to New York for
a few months.  My plane leaves on
Monday."

"What?" JC yanked away from Joey's
grip, eyes wide.  "Your WHAT?"

"With Lance and Chris out of commission,
the tour's been cut short.  I asked
Stan if I could take leave for three
months and he said yes."  Joey's voice
was calm, but his eyes revealed a
struggle.  "By the time I come back...
things will be easier.  If I stay, I
might not be able to - things will
happen."

JC shook his head.  "Joey, no - don't
go.  We need you here with us.  We
need you to..."

"You don't need me, I'll just remind
you of a bunch of shit that's better
left forgotten.  Please don't argue
with this."

So on top of it all, Joey was going
to leave.  Emotions came and went too
quickly for JC to really feel and he
slumped foreword against Joey's chest,
his arms going around him.  Joey
hugged him back easily, and dropped
his chin on JC's shoulder.

"It won't change anything," JC mumbled.
"I'll still feel the same way when you
get back.  More."

Joey just shook his head, tightened
his grip.


***




"Ouch."  Lance grimaced as he stretched
his arms over his head to pull on his
t-shirt.  The stitches on his back
pulled and strained uncomfortably
against the gauze bandage and he gritted
his teeth hard from the pain.  He had
been out of the hospital for close to a
week now and he still felt like he was
moving about five steps slower then
everyone else.  Justin and JC were always
there to offer their support, fussing
over him the way that friends did, and
when they weren't all hanging out
together, they were visiting Chris in
the hospital.  He was due for release in
another couple of days.

Joey had remained pretty much silent for
that week.  Keeping to himself and not
saying anything to anyone unless asked a
direct question or addressed.  The press
were still going nuts over the story, and
Joey gave them all pretty much the silent
treatment  - letting them come to their
own conclusions.  The others followed his
lead and did the same.

Lance still couldn't believe he was
leaving, or that their relationship had
been shot down before it could properly
start.  JC couldn't believe it either,
and his own attitude was morose and dark.

It was Monday.  Joey was due to leave for
New York later that afternoon, and he had
just come back from the hospital where he
had said his final goodbyes to Chris.

No one could really believe that they would
be without him for that long.  It had been
years since they had been separated for
more then a couple of weeks.

Lance stepped out of his room, his eyes
roamed the living room where everyone was
sitting, silently watching a black and
white rerun of The Three Stooges on TV.
He paused for a moment at the door, his
eyes resting on Joey.

Two days ago, he had made the call.  His
`plan', which he prayed to God and Heaven
would work, would either sink or float now.
His heart pounded in his chest.  This
would, literally, either break or save his
friend - but Lance was willing to take the
chance.  Joey had been walking around
wounded for the longest time now and he
would do just about anything to get the
smiling, optimistic friend he knew so
well back.

"Hey Joey..."

Joey looked up from the television, he
gave a small nod.  "Yeah?"

"Come `ere for a moment, huh?  There's
something I have to show you."

JC and Justin exchanged brief looks
before JC quickly turned his attention
back to the TV when Joey looked his way.

"Okay, sure."  Joey leaned in towards
Lance curiously.  "What is it?"

Lance's only reply was to open the front
door, indicating that Joey should leave
first.  With a last look back, Joey
shrugged and went. Lance closed the door
behind them.










"What's this about, Lance?" Joey asked
as they walked out into the hotel lobby.

Lance looked at him silently for a
moment, then looked over Joey's shoulder.

Joey followed his gaze and froze.  The
blood drained from his face as his eyes
immediately found the woman sitting on
the red velvet couch a few feet away.  A
small boy of about seven years old sat
next to her, and she gently stroked his
hair.

She looked up.  Smiled.

She looked radiant.  Beautiful.  A world
away from the scared, nervous teenager
Joey had once known.  This was a _woman_.
A woman and her son.  Her black hair
glimmered in the dim hotel light, her
eyes were soft and it brought him back to
a time not that long ago when there was
no question of who was good and who was
bad.

"Sonya?"  Joey couldn't move.  His own
voice startled him and he managed to take
a step in her direction.  "Oh God...is it
really you?"  All this time, all these
years of questions and uncertainties...it
was happening too fast, Joey felt as if
he were falling.

Her hand released the small boy's and she
stood up.  She extended her arms to him.
"Hi, Joey.  It's me."

Unable to hold himself back any longer,
Joey rushed to meet her, pulling her up
into his arms and hugging her as tight as
he could, so tight that he was afraid he
would break her in half.  Tears ran down
his face and he buried it in her neck,
breathing in her perfume and feeling her
hair brush his cheek.  "I thought you - I
thought you could of been dead," he sobbed,
unable to hold it back anymore.  "God, I
thought I'd - "

"No, Joey," she whispered.  She stroked his
hair.  "I'm here."

Sniffing, he pulled away and she held his
face between her hands.  "It's good to see
you again."

"I'm so sorry," Joey's shoulders shook with
emotion, his voice was thick with grief.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting
and waiting to tell you _how_ sorry.  I -
I ruined everything for you, I'll do
anything to make it up to you, anything I
can, I promise..."

He hugged her again, aching with the need to
know that she was okay.  That she was really
_there_.  At that moment, Joey felt as if he
would do anything she asked of him, his body
ached from head to foot.

"Joe, Joe.." She pulled away with effort from
his grasp and stroked his cheek lightly.  "You
didn't ruin my life.  You _saved_ it.  If it
hadn't been for you, I never would of gotten
away from Anthony.  I never loved him, Joey.
You helped me to realize that I didn't have to
stay with him.  I know that you were only
interested in me to get back at Anthony, but I
used you too.  Please stop feeling bad, please
don't punish yourself over this any longer.
We were all young, all foolish.  The only
difference with Anthony is _he_ never grew up.
THAT'S what killed him Joey."  Looking over her
shoulder she held out her hand and the small
boy walked cautiously towards his mother, his
eyes wide as he took in the weeping man.

Weeks, _years_, of pent up emotion had
finally caught up to Joey, and now he
couldn't seem to stop the tears.  He looked
down at the boy with awe.  "Your son?" he
said hoarsely.

Sonya smiled, and still holding on to Joey's
hand, she nodded.  "Yeah.  Michael?  This is
an old friend of mommy's, his name is
Joseph."

The boy buried his face in his mother's legs,
holding her tightly.  He peeked out.  "Hi,"
he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Joey laughed and wiped his eyes, he felt as
if he had been given a great gift.  "Hi,"
he said back.  "I - I've been waiting 8
years to meet you..."

Michael blushed, even as he didn't understand,
and went back to hiding behind his mother.
She looked up to meet Joey's eyes.  "I heard
about Anthony.  I'm so sorry he did that to
you and your friends..."

"It's over now," Joey said softly.  "We
survived it.  How are you taking it?"

Her expression fell.  "I wish I could say I
was sorry he's dead, but I'm not.  He
harassed me and my son for a long time,
even from jail he would write these...
these _terrible_ letters.  I was scared
to death that when he came out he'd come
looking for us again."

Joey shook his head, he hadn't known any of
that.  But, it didn't matter.  The only
thing that mattered was he hadn't ruined
these two beautiful lives.  Bringing her
hand up to his mouth, he kissed it with
closed eyes.  "I'm so glad that you're
okay," he said with the deepest of sincerity.
"You don't know how much it means to me to
see you again."

"Thank your friend."  Sonya looked over at
Lance who was standing by the elevators,
watching at a discreet distance.  He wanted
to go over, to comfort Joey, but he knew it
wasn't his place.  "He's the one that found
me and Michael.  He even paid for our plane
tickets over here."

Joey looked back at Lance and wondered how
he could ever repay him for this amazing
thing he had done for him.  How could he
even begin to?

"Well, we have to be going now," Sonya
said, bending down to pick her son up into
her arms.  His wide, brown eyes stared at
Joey with frank appraisal.  "My husband is
probably waiting for me back at the hotel."

A small smile.  "You got married?"

"Yes.  He's wonderful Joey."  He reached
out and stroked his face again, smiled
gently.  "He reminds me of you."

Joey felt the tears well up and quickly
looked away.  "You deserve all the
happiness in the world."

"So do you, Joey."  Her laugh was like
music.  "I always knew you'd make it big!
You and that voice of yours."  Leaning in,
she kissed him gently on the head, near
the bandage, and stepped back.  She looked
at her son.  "Say goodbye, honey."

"Bye."  The boy's eyes focused on the
pendant around Joey's neck.  "Superman?"

Laughing Joey couldn't resist reaching out
and ruffling the soft tufts of brown hair.
"Sorry, little man, not me."

A last look, a last wave, and they turned
to walk out of the hotel - with Joey
watching the whole time.  When Lance came
up to stand next to him, he turned.

"No one has ever..." Joey swallowed,
unable to finish.  "How many times are
you going to save my life, man?"

"As many times as I need to." Lance put
a hand to Joey's heart, felt the beat
under his hand.  This, he told himself,
is something that I refuse to do without.
You're NOT getting away from me, Joey,
understand?

"Three months?" Lance watched his hand,
it looked pale against Joey's black shirt.
His eyes flicked up.  "I'll be waiting."

Lance let go.


**EPILOGUE


He sat in his seat, slumped slightly, with
a baseball cap worn low over his face.
The plane had arrived on time and he had
been able to board without too much of a
fuss being made.  His three months of leave
had, amazingly, been kept quiet and so no
reporters had been there to ambush him as
he boarded the plane.  He had gone to the
airport alone, it having been decided that
if all three went to see their friend off
it would only cause a mob.

Looking out the small, rectangular window
of the plane, Joey let himself drift off
into his thoughts.  He felt peaceful, calm.
The tension of the past couple of weeks
was releasing its hold on him slowly and
he felt his eyelids droop in near-sleep.

Lance had done an amazing thing for him.
He didn't know how he could ever thank him
for something like that.  Lance and JC...
they had both saved him, several times over
- body and soul.  The only thing Joey could
do to repay them was leave for a little
while and make it easier for them to forget.
It would have to be enough, Joey didn't know
what else to do.

As the plane flew serenely through the blue,
cloudless sky, Joey slept.  His last waking
thoughts leaving him with a smile.


*********
The End

Thanks for reading folks, I hope you enjoyed
it :)

msjingles@angelfire.com


* "May God have mercy on your heart."

I got this from the English-Italian Online
dictionary - apologies for any glaring errors
that sentance displayed.

http://dictionaries.travlang.com/EnglishItalian/