Date: Mon, 19 Jun 2000 00:01:18 EDT
From: FishofHappiness@aol.com
Subject: Remembering Petticoat Lane, Part 6

	Hey, everyone! Sorry that this chapter is a little later. When it
Rains, it -pours- around here. Lots of Lightening and all, too. I almost
lost a good part of this chapter, but fortune shined, and here it is. Once
Again, I know nothing of the sexual orientation, personalities, driving
or decorating habits of -anyone- this story mentions. Don't read if you're
too young, and don't read if you don't like the idea of two boyband members
getting it on. The title is from Filter's "The Best Things" and I don't own
it, either. Special Thank yous to Kb and Cele for helping me with the title
this time. I was indecisive. :o)

Remembering Petticoat Lane
Part 6: "Gotta green light, Gotta red light, yeah, no cop, no stop
                                I don't care."


	The trip to Orlando was uneventful at best. There was nothing of
 note about the rest of the packing, the trip to the airport, even the
plane ride was anti-climactic. Lance felt as if his mind and his emotions
 were wrapped in cotton. He had lived all last night and this morning like
 a zombie, and automaton, just going through the motions of life and hoping
 that he didn't break down. Again.

	A limo picked them up at the gate, and a million questions started
 flying at them. Management evidently wasn't as cool with the therapy idea
 as Joey had made them out to be. After awhile, the questions all started
to blend together into a melancholy tapestry of sound. Why did they need
therapy? Didn't they want to tell them which one was having 'issues'? What
 happened to Lance's hand? Were they fighting?

	Eventually, the questions stopped, and the limo became sickeningly
 quiet, the tension thick enough to cut. Lance was relieved when the limo
 pulled up to Jive headquarters, and they were able to file out. Johnny
only had one last thing to say to them.

	"Alright, now, you got your way with the secrecy and all, but don't
 think you're getting off easy. Tomorrow, you -all- report to Doctor Johnson.
 The address is on Lance and Joey's answering machines... Justin, your mom
has it, too. Be there at 9:30 sharp. The doctor wants to see whichever one
 of you is having problems first, and then she wants to deal with the rest
of you? Got it? Fine. Go home."

	Without even -waiting- for another word, Lance turned and headed for
 his car, luggage in hand. He stopped short when a familliar, and well-loved
 voice called his name, though.

	"Lance!" JC was huffing when he caught up with Lance, his suitcases
also in his hands. "Can I come home with you?"

	The question, so hopeful and innocent, surprised Lance. He though
JC would probably want a break from him, what with all the drama of the last
 few days. "Umm.. Sure, of course you can." Lance just nodded, unaware of
the slightly deer-in-headlights look that he had adopted, and kept on his
way to his red Toyota 4 Runner.

	JC followed, having to walk quickly to keep up with Lance. "You
know, I don't have to come over if you don't want me to.."

	"No, No. I want you to."

	"Lance, you're making Bambi look like a Marvel Superhero right now.
I'll just go chill with Justin, It'll be fine."

	"JC, No. I'm just.. surprised, I thought you would need a break from
me for awhile. I don't want to be alone."

	"I don't need a break from you, Lance. I'd be happy to come home
with you."

	Lance didn't reply to that, he just unlocked and opened the back of
the 4 Runner, and motioned for JC to go ahead and put his luggage in. After
all the luggage had been put up Lance gave JC a small smile, and walked
around to the driver's side. After he and JC were seated and buckled in,
Lance started the car, and drove off.

	Lance had always been a fast driver, that was something that all
the guys knew and teased him about. They hadn't recognized the almost
self-destructive drive that that was an indicant of, though. Lance drove
fast, even faster now, because there were times when he didn't actually
-care- whether or not he made it to his destination. This realization came
very suddenly to JC, and it made him very softly ask Lance to slow down.
Lance obliged him, but didn't acknowlegde the question. Lance's gaze was
still haunted, moreso here then it had been in Los Angeles. Even with the
slightly more careful driving, the ride was short, and the guys were soon
inside Lance's house. As they walked across the lawn, it struck them just
how much could change in a few moinths. The grass was brown, and made a
sick crunching noise as they walked across it. Florida was in the midst of
one of the worst drought they had ever had. The normal 'shower in the
afternoon' summer rain pattern had yet to set in, and everything looked
burned and dead. It was a strinking and saddening symbol for what was going
on in their own lives. Everything was burnt out, and dying from the inside
out. Maybe, just maybe this trip would be the thing to save them.

	Lance scrambled to grab JC's luggage, and went off to put it all in
the master bedroom, almost as if he was afraid of what would develop with
the two of them in the room together. That was alright, though. It gave JC
a chance to stop and look around Lance's house. He had never come over here
that much, something about the house had always struck him as intrinsically
-wrong-. It wasn't until now that JC realized what it was. Despite the fact
that the house was very carefully and nicely decorated, it was very cold.
There was nothing of its owner present anywhere. No pictures of friends or
family adorned the shelves, what artwork there was had a modern, shapeless
feel to it. All in all, the house blended into the millions of hotels that
the guys had graced over the years, there was no feeling to it. How on earth
could Lance -live- like this?

	After a few more minutes, JC started to wonder what exactly had
-happened- to Lance upstairs, and decided to go investigate. He found Lance
almost frozen upstairs, just sort of staring at the room, and at the luggage
on the bed.

	"James?"

	"I.. I didn't know where to put it."

	"It?"

	"Your luggage. In here, or in the guest bedroom. I.. I didn't want
to come down and ask."

	There was a childlike indecision in Lance's voice. It still amazed
JC that the beautiful man he knew as a planner, and a logical mind could
seem so very, very young at times. He supposed it was almost a form of
regression. Lance became submissive and quiet when he got confused, it was
something JC had seen many times, but it had never angered him as much as it
did now. This was just another scar that Lou had left on Lance. On -his-
Lansten.

	"It's fine in here, Lance. I'll probably be sharing a bed with you
anyway, provided that's what you want." There was no answer at first, Lance
was still non-committal and passive. "Is that what you want, baby?"

	"I'd like that."

	"Okay, then, Lance. I'll sleep in here, with you." JC looked away
for a second, then turned back to Lance. "Lance, why don't you keep pictures
of us around?"

	Lance blinked, as if he didn't quite understand the question. "Us?"

	"You know, me, you, the guys. Hell. Why aren't there any pictures of
your family around, either?"

	"I have plenty of pictures of the guys and my family in Mississippi."

	"But none here. Why?"

	Lance paused for a minute, looking down. He sat down on the bed
heavily, and motioned for JC to join him. After he had, Lance looked up at
him, straight into his eyes, and started speaking again. "You know how in TV
shows, or cartoons, people sometimes have to lead a double life? Like..
Superman, or that character Maxwell Smart from _Get Smart_?" He waited for
JC's nod before he continued. "Well, ever since I've joined this group I've
had a double life, JC. There's the life here, in Orlando, where Lou Perlman
practically -owned- me and my body, and there the life in Mississippi. Even
though I spend a whole lot of my time here, I left everything I loved in
Mississippi to keep it safe from him."

	JC was stunned, speechless in fact. He pulled Lance into a tight
hug, and was actually relieved when Lance relaxed into it rather than pull
back. When he finally found his voice again, his words were soft, and spoken
while he looked directly into Lance's eyes. "You're safe from him now,
Lance. We're all safe from him."

	Lance didn't point out that that wasn't true, that Lou's influence
still was poisoning them, ripping them apart from the roots up. But he
didn't, he just relaxed into JC's arms, and let himself become carefully
oblivious to the dark that loomed around them.