Date: Wed, 27 Sep 2000 02:12:52 EDT
From: Dara Lynn <daralynn_writings@hotmail.com>
Cc: wenlittle@home.com
Subject: Boy bands/ No Painless Way, chapter 11

Hi all!  I didn't intend to send this so soon, but my dear readers have been
guilty tripping me (cough cough Jrok cough cough), so here it is, chapter
11.
As always, a big thank you to Nifty and David, and my other archiver in
shining armor Dennis.  Much appreciation and gratitude goes out to my
readers, ALL of you, including Casey, Aph, Wen, Jrok, Kyriel2, Lora, Danni
(liking the story Danni!) and Aimee.
A few plugs - For amazing drama, check out "A Tale of Two Boybands",
"Intimate Stranger" and "Playing For Keeps".  For beautiful romance, try "A
Love Like This", "Nsync: Lance n JC" and "Devotion".  For a just plain good
story, try "Decisions" (which I'm in the middle of), "Little White Lies", "A
Little Bit of Love", and sample "Calming Waters".  It's bizarre, but
fascinating.
DISCLAIMER:  Own no one, imply nothing.  I seriously doubt any of this
happened.  I like to mix some true stuff in with my fiction, but I think I
can safely say this is mostly stuff that never has and never will happen.
Why are you reading this anyway? :)
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  An interesting little tidbit of info here - this chapter is
my favorite of the whole story.  I'm not sure why, it came very quickly.
But I hope you like it too.  This section also is where I got the title "No
Painless Way" from, for those of you curious about the name.
Okay, i'll shut up now and let you read. :)


~NO PAINLESS WAY~                   by DaraLynn
Chapter 11


"It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family."
                        - Stephen King, 'The Green Mile'


     "...still no suspects named in the abduction of 'Nsync's Justin
Timberlake-"
     "...cooperating fully with the Orlando PD-"
     "...those with information are asked to contact-"
     "...he's our baby brother.  We're lost without him-"
     "...had returned to Orlando for a two-week-"
     "...I'm not gonna lose you...I love you, Curly..."
     Timothy Korman slumped where he sat on the hotel bed.  He'd been
watching the news reports, forcing himself to, trying to put up a front of
indifference.  But that last one was too much.  The anguish in the
distraught singer's voice was worse than the hysterical parents and the
weeping fans combined.
     It had been just another assignment.  A check in Korman's wallet.  A
file in his briefcase.  The folder's pages contained the boy's height, eye
color, address...simple statistics.  No where had it said that the 'package'
was possibly the most envied and loved child in the country.  No one had
told Korman that his action that day, under the shade of a sacred tree,
would plunge seemingly the whole world into fear and mourning.
     The plan had been precise, perfect.  It just hadn't included the cold
weight Korman felt in his stomach.  He switched off the TV, unable to bear
the grief it showed him.
     //God, how many lives *did* I destroy?  Why is this time so different
from the others?  Sure, this kid is famous, but...it's not that.  It's
something else.//
     Everywhere Korman looked he saw that sunny smile, crowned with friendly
blue eyes and golden curls.  He saw Justin chatting happily with his friends
in the Hard Rock Cafe, and remembered how the tall, brown-haired bandmate
had hovered around the boy protectively.
     //How many lives?//
     The hated cell phone rang just once before he picked it up.
     "Hello?"
     "Korman, as I said, I have another job for you.  One of my employees
has been extremely helpful and I wish to reward his loyalty.  It's well that
you stayed in Orlando."
     "Another kidnapping, sir?"
     Elwood laughed.  "Why do you sound so glum?  It's what you're good at,
after all.  To answer your question, yes."
     "Sir...I don't think I can."
     "And why not, Korman?  I'm making you a wealthy man."
     "Mr. Elwood...I...was thinking I should probably go see my family."
     The laugh he received was pitiless.  "They still believe that
'travelling salesman' story?  Or do you want to dazzle the wife with the
tale of how you helped deliver the world's favorite teen heartthrob into my
awaiting hands?  And that's where he spent a good part of this morning, you
know - in my busy hands."
     "Stop it!" Korman yelled, his fear for the man momentarily forgotten.
     The voice on the other line chilled the room.  "No, Korman.  *You* stop
it.  Stop letting this silly remorse torment you.  Justin is safer with me
than he would be anywhere else.  I would never hurt him - I want him to be
happy.  In fact, I even intend to bring one of his friends here so he won't
get lonely when I'm not around.
     "Which brings me to your assignemnt, Korman..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------

     As was to be expected, Orlando had been turned upside-down in the wake
of Justin's disappearance.  Only the Harless neighborhood was eerily quiet,
thanks to the huge police force keeping fans and reporters out.
Neighborhood residents had been very cooperative and sympathetic, stopping
by periodically with kind words and platters of cookies.  The former were
gratefully accepted, the latter piled in the kitchen.  No one had much of an
appetite, even Joey.
     The area was safe and secure, for what it was worth.  Everywhere else
police departments were corresponding with Orlando's - running background
checks, questioning various persons, even circulating Justin's picture, for
the few who didn't know what he looked like.
     Justin's bandmates and family walked around the large house like
zombies, breaking down and comforting in turns.  Randall Timberlake had
remembered aloud the talent show Justin had done when he was eight, and
spent the next three hours crying too hard to speak.  Diane Bass and Lance
had talked alone for a while, and both reemerged with more understanding of
the other.  Lynn and Paul bravely tried to keep everyone busy and hopeful,
but it was no easy task.  The house had become, it seemed, the focal point
of all the world's misery.
     With their bodyguards in the usual places at their sides, the four
remaining 'Nsyncers had fallen into the familiar pattern of sharing the work
at hand.  Because of his ability to stay calm, Lance did most of the talking
to the press and, the rest of the time, concentrated on trying to sense
Justin.  Chris spent his time with the detectives, suggesting and answering,
and served as the self-appointed Comfort Guy to Justin's family.  Joey was
monitoring the newspaper and TV reports, which only someone as
naturally-optimistic as him could have handled.
     Police and criminologists discussed Justin as if he were a misplaced
object; people wondered if he was still alive.  Scenes of candle-lit prayer
vigils around the country gave way to similar but foreign footage, in which
girls and their mothers pleaded with God in languages Joey didn't
understand.  On MTV and VH1, other artists and VJs expressed their concern
between the 'Nsync videos that played continuously like a morbidly-cheerful
tribute.  Serena Altschul burst into tears during an MTV news break,
remembering the giggly boy she had interviewed.
     Schools were half-empty, missing the students whose parents couldn't
pry them away from the news reports, or take the tear-stained pin-ups from
their hands.  Churches, synagogues and places of worship world-wide filled
with fans young and old, some praying earnestly for the first time.  Joey,
who had never really given God too much thought, fervently begged the one
Justin had never doubted.
     And J.C....well, J.C. did anything he was asked to, but without
emotion.  Sometimes he seemed like his own ghost, a dimmed version of what
he once was.  The creature his heart beat for had been snatched away, and
the best part of J.C. had followed him.  It took all the
twenty-two-year-old's strength to keep breathing and moving.
     At the moment, he could only do one, as he sat motionless on the
sun-warmed ground beneath the basketball net.  He didn't look up as Lance
tentatively approached and sat down next to him.
     "Hi, J.C."
     J.C.  Lance, Joey and Chris all called him that pretty often.  They
said 'Josh' too, but Justin rarely used any other appellation for his
friend.  Lance knew this, and here in one of Justin's favorite places,
couldn't utter the name just then.  The silent man sitting next to him had
been 'J.C.' since his Mouseketeer days, but wasn't quite as much 'Josh'
without Justin around.
     "Hey, Scoop."
     Lance glanced at the basketball in front of J.C.
     "Why are you out here?  It just makes you hurt more."
     J.C. met his friend's eyes with a confused look.  "How do you know
that?"
     "C, I can feel it.  It flows off you like heat.  These waves of
terrible pain."
     J.C. sighed, and slipped an arm around his younger brother, pulling him
closer.
     "I'm sorry I'm hurting you, Lansten."
     "It's okay.  I'm hurting on my own anyway."
     "Do you always feel what people around you are feeling?"
     Lance thought for a moment.  "Usually, if it's strong.  It's easier
with people I know.  And care about."
     "I love you too, Poo-Fu."
     Lance leaned his head against J.C.'s shoulder, and J.C. rested his
cheek on the gelled blond spikes.
     "It's not fair that you should have to feel other people's pain," J.C.
murmured.  "It's no way to live."
     "It's *my* way, C.  You know, when I was fourteen I was on my school
baseball team.  One afternoon I was finishing getting changed after practice
when I felt this awful feeling of hopelessness wash over me.  So I followed
it to where it was coming from.  In one of the empty classrooms, my algebra
teacher was at her desk sobbing.  As I got closer I saw that she had a gun."
     "Oh shit..."  J.C. unconsciously tightened his arm around Lance.
     "Yeah.  When I went in she hid it and tried to pretend nothing was
wrong, but I wouldn't let it go.  After about ten minutes she finally broke
down again and told me that her husband had passed away and that she
couldn't live without him.  That she was dying inside and she wanted to
finish the job."
     "What did you do?"
     "I don't remember everything I said, but I told her that she was still
alive and that's how her husband wanted her to be.  I made her tell me all
the good things she still had left, and pretty soon she realized that she
had a lot to live for."
     "So she didn't do it?"
     "Nope.  Actually, she just got remarried last year.  When I went home
that day I was terrified that she might reconsider and use the gun, but on
Monday morning before class she hugged me and thanked me for saving her
life."
     "Wow."  J.C. was amazed.
     "Yeah.  Ever since then she's called me her 'angel'.  She kept saying
that without me she wouldn't be alive, that I had given her hope again."
     J.C. smiled with understanding; after all, he had an angel too.
     "It's a good thing you sensed something was wrong."
     "Exactly.  A *good* thing.  It *does* hurt me sometimes, but whatever I
have lets me help people.  There's no painless way to live, J.C., and there
*shouldn't* be.  If no one was ever sad, joy would have no meaning.  Light
wouldn't be such a relief if it didn't follow darkness.  I didn't ask for
this, but I have it.  And if I can help others, it's worth it."
     J.C. shook his head as Lance gently pulled away.
     "God, Scoop.  How do you know so much?"
     "The truth of things and people is what I see, Josh.  It's been the
curse and the blessing of my life.  I can feel what others feel.  I know
what exists between you and Justin.  I think, deep down, I always have."
     "You know?!  How long have you known?"
     "We all know how you feel about Justin."
     J.C. nodded.  He had told them shortly after the group was formed, at
the same time he'd revealed to them that he was gay.
     "I started to sense that Justin felt the same way about you early last
year.  I was thrilled beyond words, but it wasn't my place to say anything
to either of you."
     The older man nodded with understanding.
     "Besides, I'd never been sure about the impressions I get before.
Mentioning what I sensed between you would have been taking a chance that
could've hurt one or both of you.  I wasn't certain until the morning after
we got here, when he came out and joined us here on the court."
     A sad smile painted J.C.'s face.  "*I* had just found out how he feels
the night we arrived...Lance, you knew for sure that morning?"
     The soft green eyes looked at him gently.
     "Josh, there's always been this bond between the two of you.  For years
I thought it was just the strongest friendship that ever existed.  That day,
I knew it to be more.  C, the link that you and Justin have is so powerful
that I can almost *see* it when I'm near you both.  *That's* why I'm so sure
we'll get him back.  God doesn't create something so right just to break it.
  Love *does* triumph, Josh.  What you and Just have is the most perfect
harmony that life contains, and the full horror of man's cruelty can't
destroy it.  You will, *we* will, get Justin back."
     J.C. looked hopefully at his friend for the first time in days.  "You
speak so beautifully, Lance.  Do you really believe all that?"
     The blond smiled back with quiet wisdom.  "I *have* to, Josh.  If I
doubt that, I doubt my whole life and everything I know.  I've never been in
love, but I know soul-mates when I see them."
     J.C. put his arm around Lance again.  "You'll have what me and Justin
have someday, Scoop.  And God, will she be lucky!"
     "He."
     J.C. wasn't as surprised as he thought he would be.
     "You're gay?  Why didn't you tell us?"
     Lance giggled, a sweet, musical sound.  "You never asked.  No, really,
I guess I figured you knew.  What, no bleep on your gay-dar?"
     The dearly-missed sound of J.C.'s laughter filled the air.  "No
*nothing* on my gay-dar.  You, like, didn't register at all."
     Lance sighed sadly.  "Maybe that's prophetic.  Maybe some people just
don't find love."
     J.C. squeezed his friend affectionately.
     "Don't you dare say that!  Do you have *any* idea how many guys out
there would shoot their parents just to get close to you?"
     Lance laughed.  "Gee, *that* sure makes me happy."
     "Lance, being that we're both gay and we're such close friends, I can
say this to you.  You are one of the sweetest, most brilliant, most perfect
beings God ever put on this earth.  And, not to embarass you, but you are so
gorgeous.  Seriously, if I didn't have my angel I'd be stalking you."
     The teenager laughed again, blushing.  "Thanks, Josh.  That means a
lot.  Deep down I *do* believe that there's someone out there for me.  And
someday I'll have the same magic you and Curly do.  It's just...sometimes it
seems so far away, when I'm burdened with the pain people around me feel."
The voice was suddenly sad.
     J.C. lifted his other arm up and pulled Lance into a warm embrace,
patting the boy's back soothingly.
     "Feel how *I* feel," he instructed.
     Lance closed his eyes and opened his mind.  Instantly it was flooded
with J.C.'s love and admiration for the younger man, with the knowing how
much J.C. needed Lance, how special the blond was to him.  Lance felt the
heaviness in his heart lighten, and he knew that the love of his friends and
family would always keep him from drowning in the suffering that was heaped
upon him.  The pain that his innocent soul bravely accepted.
     "I feel it, Josh...thank you."
     J.C. didn't let go.  "Tune into it whever you need to, Scoop...it's
always there."
     He held the blond tightly, one of the two fragile creatures J.C. had
taken it upon himself to protect.  With the hope Lance had given him, and
the reassurance J.C. had given back, the two friends clung to eachother a
while longer, each drawing strength from the other.


~to be continued~
Questions and comments (no flames) to
DaraLynn_writings@hotmail.com, please