Date: Thu, 21 Sep 2000 03:03:24 EDT
From: Dara Lynn <daralynn_writings@hotmail.com>
Subject: Boy bands/ No Painless Way, chapter 9

Just can't get this out fast enough, can I? :)  Well, blame Wen for
this...she just couldn't wait another day.  :)
As usual, big thanks to David, Nifty, and my loyal, crazy cheering section.
You guys make my life so much more colorful and I'm so grateful for that.

DISCLAIMER:  <sigh>  No one reads these things.  So theoretically I could
say anything I want to here and no one would know.  Hmm.  Er, my head is
full of cheese.  The clams are after me!  Oh, and I don't know 'Nsync, though
they're going on my Christmas list. :)

'Nuff said.  You guys are worried about Justin; let's go see how he's doing.
  Ready?  Okay.



~NO PAINLESS WAY~             by DaraLynn
Chapter 9


"Surviving is its own kind of horror."
                     - 'Sliders'



     Justin sat motionless in the bathtub, his eyes closed against the rough
spray of hot water falling down on him.  His arms clasped around his legs
and head rested on his knees, the boy seemed the very picture of innocence
shaken.  Tainted.
     //Unclean.  Unclean.//
     His breath came in short sobs, too soft to be heard over the rush of
the water.  Justin could almost still feel the cool hands exploring his
body, caressing his skin.  Still see the hungry smile of his captor, the
lust burning in his cold eyes.  Still hear the moaned whisper.  'It's okay,
baby.'
     It *wasn't* okay.  And it didn't seem like it ever would be again.
     Justin lifted his head, his blue eys glistening with tears.  He glanced
over at the sink.  A razor sat patiently at the edge of it, only a few feet
away.  The boy stared, mesmerized by the shining blade, and began to reach
for it, before an inner force slapped his hand down.
     Almost mechanically, he pushed his wet curls back, remembering a speech
that one of their management crew had drilled into them.  It had been about
what to do if one of them was ever kidnapped.
     Justin chuckled mirthlessly.  How they had laughed at the idea.
     //Boys, remember - the number one rule, the most important thing, is to
stay alive.  Cooperate as much as you have to.  Remember, you owe it to the
people who love you to get back to them safely.  Do whatever you have to,
but stay alive.//
     It had seemed so unimportant to Justin that sunny day an eternity ago,
however serious the speaker had been.  They had all nodded solemnly and
dismissed the idea; with J.C.'s arm tightly around him, Justin *couldn't*
feel threatened.
     //Whatever you have to.  Is this what he meant?//
     The blond's fingers unconsciously traced patterns on the smooth white
surface as he tried to think of something hopeful.  It wasn't easy.  Escape
did, indeed, seem impossible.  As Elwood had said, the only way out was a
thick metal door that required a key-card and password, neither of which
Justin had.  The windows, which overlooked a beautifully-landscaped expanse,
were secured with bars.
     No way out.  Except...
     Justin's eyes returned to the razor.  It seemed strangely lovely,
gleaming with the promise of relief.  Only a vision of light blue eyes
dulled with grief and pain kept the boy's hand from reaching out.
     //Josh.  I can't do that to Josh.  I'd suffer anything for him.  And I
may have to.  That's love, I guess.//
     Justin sighed, a mournful sound of resignation.  He rose slowly and
turned off the water.  He towelled off quickly, as fast as his limbs, numbed
with shock, could move.  As he reached for his clothes and pulled them on,
he forced himself to look in the mirror.
     He looked the same, save for his reddened eyes, but an inner voice knew
better.
     //Tainted.  Unclean.//
     As Justin shuffled into the bedroom, he halted suddenly.
     A red-haired man, probably in his early thirties, was busily putting
fresh sheets on the bed.  At the boy's entrance he looked up; his expression
suggested that he wanted to smile, but knew that it wouldn't help anything.
     "Hello, Mr. Timberlake.  I'll be finished here in just a moment."
     Justin looked at the stranger blankly; he'd almost forgotten that there
were other people in the world, besides faces on posters and monsters in
black.  He didn't feel threatened by the man in the gray uniform, but
quickly exited to the living room.
     After all, he hadn't felt threatened by Timothy Korman either.
     He stumbled over the freshly-vacuumed carpet and sank down on one of
the couches.  Justin turned a little and pulled his legs up, reassuming the
position he'd been in in the shower.
     After a few minutes the man in gray came in, pushing a cart of cleaning
supplies.  He paused, and looked at Justin sympathetically.
     "My name is Rick."
     Justin made no response.  Rick slowly walked over and sat on the couch,
far enough away so that the boy wouldn't feel threatened.  Even so, the
teenager flinched at his approach.
     "I'm not gonna hurt you, kid.  I won't touch you, okay?  I just wanted
to see if you were all right."
     The blond's head lifted, and blue eyes looked at him in confusion.
     "Sorry, dumb question.  Look, I'm not supposed to talk to you, but I
happen to know Mr. Elwood's not monitoring the cameras right now.  Is there
anything you want?  Anything I can do?"
     Justin finally spoke.  "All I want is to go home."
     Rick frowned apologetically.  "I bet.  I wish I could help, but..."
     "It's okay.  I understand."
     //He's not lying,// Rick thought.  //No ordinary kid, this.//
     The boy's voice trembled slightly.  "Can you tell me where I am?"
     "Not far from Panama City."
     Justin's eyes widened, then shut for a moment.  He took a deep, shaky
breath before he spoke again.
     "Is...*he*...around?"
     Rick's eyes dropped.  "Elwood?  He will be soon.  He's coming with the
doc for your next injection."
     Justin shuddered, gripping his arm.
     "You know, it would be a lot easier on you if you'd just eat.  The boss
had the kitchen staff learn how to make all your favorite foods."
     "How does he know so much about me?"
     Rick shrugged.  "He's been following your career very closely for years
now.  Elwood even paid one of the guys who worked for you for information."
     Justin sat up straight, letting his legs fall.  "Who?"
     "I don't know his name.  But I think you've seen the guy already - big,
longish brown hair, mean expression?"
     "Uh-huh.  I thought he looked familiar.  I just don't know how."
     "Um, Mr. Timberlake..."
     "You can call me Justin."
     "Okay, Justin...I just wanted to suggest that you go along with Mr.
Elwood.  You know, don't give him cause to be angry."
     Justin's expression darkened.  "Don't put up a fight, you mean?"
     Rick's face colored.  "I *mean*, he's a very dangerous man, especially
when provoked.  He has no moral conflicts even about killing."
     "If he kills me then at least I won't be stuck here anymore."
     Rick tried to speak gently.  "You don't understand.  I know Mr. Elwood.
  He may not understand emotional pain, but physical pain he does.  And he
really doesn't wanna hurt you like that.  Nor will he let anyone else."
     "But you said-"
     "I know what I said.  What I'm saying is, if you prove to be more than
he can handle, he'll threaten someone you care about.  And he doesn't lie
very often."
     Justin trembled.  Rick hesitantly touched the boy's arm, and spoke in a
low, soft tone.
     "Justin, I know what he's doing to you.  Most likely as long as he has
you, and that, he'll ignore your friends.  Now, Elwood expects you to fight,
and he's going to be very patient with you.  But I wanted...I wanted to warn
you."
     "Thank you."  The boy pulled his legs back up onto the couch and rested
his chin on his knees.  He spoke clearly but wouldn't meet Rick's eyes.
     "Your boss must have a really fucked-up definition of the word 'hurt'."
     "Yes.  Do you remember waking up a little just before the second time
you were drugged?"
     Justin responded with a puzzled frown.  "No.  There was a second time?"
     Rick nodded.  "Yeah, you had to be drugged again on your way here.  One
of the guys in charge of bringing you here, Del, told me that his partner
Doug had some trouble keeping you still.  Apparently - according to Del -
you woke up a little and started fighting.  Doug got mad and slapped you.
Del let that slip and the boss was *furious*."
     "What did he do?"
     "Shot Doug.  Eight times."
     Justin's hand flew up to cover his mouth, and his fair skin took on a
greenish cast.  "Oh my God."
     "Yeah."  Rick glanced at his watch.  "Whoa, I gotta go.  Elwood and the
doc'll be here soon."
     "Okay."
     "I'll be back tomorrow.  Justin...I can't stop what's happening to you.
  There are more lives than mine at stake.  But, pathetic as I may be, I'll
be around if you need to talk to someone.  Maybe it will help."
     Justin managed a small, but honest smile.  "You're not pathetic.  Thank
you."
     Rick left quickly, not wishing to have to see his boss.  Justin gazed
into space thoughtfully.
     //Guess I've made a friend, sort of.  A lot of good that'll do me
*here*.  Hope is lost.  Love is lost.  *I'm* lost.//
------------------------------------------------------------------------

     Detective Larsen looked down at the notes he had made and cleared his
throat.
     "Two twenty-nine.  Animals that don't move.  Something wood."
     He looked up at Lance and motioned him closer.  "Son, do you have any
idea what these things mean?"
     Lance stared down at his shoes.  "Not really, sir.  But I think they're
all related to Justin's abduction."
     "And you've been right before, with these impressions of yours?
Always?"
     "Yeah, pretty much.  Often I don't understand them, but after a while
it becomes clear."
     Lance glanced over at his mother, who smiled at him encouragingly.
     The detective nodded, and turned his attention to Nick.
     "We'll run your sketch through the computers, see if there are any
matches.  If it's our guy, if he has a record, it'll show.  No harm in
trying."
     Nick smiled uneasily.  He still couldn't shake the dream.  Brian's arm
slipped around him, and he relaxed a little.
     "As for your information, Lance, we'll keep it in mind.  It may give us
the edge we need."
     Detective Murray frowned skeptically.  "Yes, but you should keep
yourself open to the possiblity that the images you received came from your
imagination, rather than a sixth sense."
     Lance looked unflichingly at the man who doubted him.
     "I'm sorry about your mother," he murmured.  "She has six more months."
     The police officer gazed at him, awestruck.  "The-the doctors," he
stammered, "said four months."
     "No.  Six."
     Joey broke in.  "What's he talking about?"
     Det. Murray's eyes never left Lance.  "My mother was diagnosed with
cancer last year.  Six months...are you sure?"
     Lance shook his head.  "I'm never sure about this stuff.  But I'm
usually right."
     "I...thank you."  Detective Murray seemed apologetic.  "We'll look into
your information."  The man edged away to conceal his tears.
     J.C. pulled Detective Larsen aside.
     "You're not getting anywhere, are you?" he asked, his eyes probing for
the truth.
     "It's far too early to give up hope, Mr. Chasez."
     "Any luck with the background checks?"
     "We were just about to tell you boys.  No leads have opened up yet.
We're having some trouble locating certain persons, but we're still
looking."
     "It doesn't look good, does it?"
     Det. Larsen turned away, unable to lie, unwilling to agree with the
choked voice.
     J.C. sighed shakily.  "I'm gonna tell the press."
     "That's not a good idea.  If civilians, especially young ones, try to
look for Justin themselves there's no telling the amount of danger they
could put themselves in."
     "Then we tell them not to.  This way at least the word is out.  We'll
offer a big reward for information about where Justin is.  People don't just
disappear, Detective.  Maybe someone involved will come forward."
     Larsen nodded reluctantly.  "All right.  If the parents feel the same
way, talk to the press.  I'll prepare a statement on behalf of the Orlando
Police Department as well."
     "Thank you."  The pained blue eyes turned away as J.C. went to find
Lynn and the others.
     Det. Murray approached silently, his eyes still wet.  "The parents will
agree."
     Larsen agreed wordlessly.
     "We're going to have quite a panic on our hands, Tom.  I hope the end
result is worth it."


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