Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2000 22:28:59 -0700
From: Dayse Craze <msjingles@angelfire.com>
Subject: "Superman Can't Fly" - part 3

Disclaimer:  All characters, situations, and stories
portrayed are fictional, and absolutely untrue.
I do not know of the sexual orientation of any of
those mentioned, except Anthony (ew) and really...I
have no interest in knowing because it's none of my
darn business.

Warning:  This story contains m/m interaction, bad
language, violence, blah blah blah :)

Thanks:  Thank you, thank you, thank you to all those
who have e-mailed me with feedback.  I realize that
a lot of authors say this, but feedback really is the
fuel that keeps a writer going :)  So, thank you, I
very much appreciate your time and effort.

Side note:  Colleen?  I tried to e-mail you back, but
I got an error return message :p  Hotmail, me thinks,
is being evil again.


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




Justin glanced at the door for the fifth
time in the past ten minutes and let out
a grunt of impatience.  "Aw, screw Chris,
man.  I'm not waiting."  He popped the
movie into the VCR and sat back as the
screen went black before starting.  He
clapped his hands together in anticipation,
"Alright!"

"I wonder what's taking him so long," JC
mused, watching the screen as well.  "How
long does it take to change pants?"

"Ah, he's probably talking to Lance,
maybe he can convince him to come back
down here."  Joey stood and went into the
kitchen.  "I'll make some popcorn, anyone
want another drink?"

"Beer me."

"Same here," Justin said.  "We can always
rewind for Chris," he added.

For the next hour, they watched the movie
with the silence being broken only by
laugher and sly remarks.  Joey and JC
remained on the couch together while
Justin sat on the floor in front of them,
his legs splayed out and tears running down
his face from laughter.

Half-way through, Joey reached over to put
his arm easily around the other man, not
anything he hadn't done before but it seemed
more intimate now, more personal, and JC
moved in a little closer.  He glanced at his
watch, suddenly eager for the flick to end so
he could send Justin away and be alone with
Joe.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity,
the credits rose up and the modest audience
clapped its approval.

"I swear, I see something new in that movie
every time," Justin said, standing and
stretching.  He shook his head, "Too bad
Chris missed it, I wonder why he didn't show."

Yawning, Joey shrugged, "Probably changed his
mind at the last minute."

"I guess.  Well, I'm beat, dudes, time to hit
the sack."  Leaning over, Justin gave Joey a
quick, brotherly hug, "Keep it real, man,
just one more day and that bad dude will be
outta our lives forever."

If only it were that easy, Joey thought
bleakly, but outwardly he smiled and nodded.
"Yeah, Just, right."

Waving a final goodbye to both, Justin
walked out, closing the door behind him.

JC smiled, turned to Joe.  "Do we have to be
awkward now?"

"I won't be if you won't."  Joey returned
the smile.  "But I was kinda surprised.  I
never would of thought that..."

"What?" JC prodded, moving a little closer to
him.  "That I'd be attracted to you?  That
I would be interested in men?"

Joey shrugged, "All of the above?"

JC considered, "Truth is Joe, I'm not really
interested in other men, just you.  Maybe
it's cause we're as close as we are, or
because you're so happy and easy going about
stuff that usually makes other people all
uptight...you bring it out in people around
you...I love you, Joey.  You know that.  And
this feels...good."  He shifted in closer to
back up his point and played with a button
on Joey's shirt.  "Is it okay that I feel
like just being with you?  How you dealin'
with it?"

The answer was never given.  Justin burst
back through the door, everything about
him shouting that he was near panic.  The
knees of his jeans were stained with blood,
so were his hands.  He didn't even register
what was happening on the couch in front of
his very eyes, his words were forced out
with the pounding of his heart.

"911!!!  CALL 911!"





Justin had found him in the elevator, had
seen him, really, from the hallway.  Chris'
hand, which had fallen in between the doors,
was preventing them from closing.  It
rested in a pool of blood that was blooming
from underneath the sunken chest of his
broken ribs as it blossomed underneath him.
That late at night, Justin had been the
first to find him.

Now, they all sat in a private waiting
room at Mercy hospital, each lost in their
own thoughts, each falling deeper and
deeper in a cold, unforgiving panic.

If Chris was dead...how could anything be
right ever again?

"This isn't happening," Justin mumbled,
his leg bouncing erratically, "No.  This
isn't happening, this isn't happening..."

Lance tried to put a comforting arm
around him but it was shrugged off roughly,
Justin didn't even seem to realize he had
done it.  "Not happening, no, no..."

"Chris'll be fine," Lance said.  His voice
sounded so unsure it nearly came out as a
question.  His hands fell shaking to his
side, "He has to.  I'd just finished talking
to him.  He can't die...how can he die?"

JC sat stooped over in his chair, his
hands covering his mouth grimly, his feet
planted firmly on the floor.  If he stood,
he would pace or run.  He didn't want to
do either.  He wanted to comfort his
friends, say something reassuring.  But no
words came.

"Who could of done this?" Justin finally
said, his voice a plea for an answer.
"What did Chris ever do?  Who the FUCK
could of done this to him?  Oh God...
Jesus..."

"I know who," Lance's voice was soft,
cold.  He talked to the room but looked
only at Joey.  "It was Anthony.  Who else
would it be?  He saw Chris and tried to
kill him because of what Joey did to him
years ago...It had nothing to do with him.
This, like everything else has been for
the past two days, was about Joey."

Jerking his head up out of his hands, JC
looked at Lance in shock.  "Hey..."

Joey looked as if someone was holding
him at gunpoint.

Lance continued on, relentless.  "You
know it's true," his voice shook, "It's
YOUR fault if he dies!  If you'd just
listened to us when we told you to get
rid of him, he'd be GONE, and Chris
would be FINE!"

"HEY!  That's enough!" JC got to his
feet and stood between the two men.
"Lance, what the hell is the matter with
you?  This isn't Joey's..."

"Oh, of course _you_ would defend him,"
Lance scoffed, his expression one of
disgust and fury, "What?  You don't like
anyone talking trash about your
_boyfriend_, Josh?"

Justin shook his head, looked back and
forth between the three men, "What?
Guys...what's going on?"

"You're out of line," JC said, through
gritted teeth.  "We're all upset, Lance,
but you're being an asshole."

"I'M an asshole?  _I_ am?!" Lance
pointed to the closed door of the waiting
room, where the ER lay just beyond.  "Our
friend, our _brother_, might DIE tonight
because of Joey being a selfish,
womanizing BASTARD, and I'M the asshole?!"

Still in disbelief over what was being
said, Justin continued to shake his head
mutely, mouth open in surprise.  "What?
What?"

Joey looked broken, he fell back limply
into his chair, too out of it to even
leave the room.  JC turned to look at
him briefly before confronting Lance.

His voice was low, a threat.  A promise.
"Lance, the only thing keeping me
from breaking your nose right now is
that I know you're upset, and that you're
probably going to feel like shit later
for all that stuff you said.  But I
suggest you leave, or all bets are off."

Lance stood his ground, "You can't order
me around, Josh.  Chris is my friend,
too, and I'm not going anywhere until I
hear how he is."  He glared at Joey over
JC's shoulder, "I still care about my
friends."

It was only because of Joey's persistent
tugging on his shirt that JC didn't
respond, and he sat down next to him,
avoiding Lance's eyes.

Justin, still confused, didn't push the
matter.  Whatever it was, it wasn't as
important as Chris.

After what seemed like an eternity of
waiting, the doctor finally re-appeared,
his scrubs dashed with sparks of red
blood, like that of a painter.  His mask
hung limply around his neck and his
expression was...unreadable.

"How is he?" Lance demanded, getting to
his feet first.  "Our friend, how is
he?"

"He was severely beaten," the doctor
started.  "There are several broken ribs,
a broken arm, concussion...and a knife
wound to the stomach."

The air seemed to get sucked out of the
room, no one could breathe, Justin
gripped the arm of his chair.  "No..."

Joey, speaking for the first time,
stepped foreword and fought the urge to
just shake the answers out of the grim
man in blood soaked clothes, "Damn it,
just tell us if he's alive!"

The doctor blinked, nodded, "Yes, you
brought him in just in time.  He's
alive and breathing on his own."

Justin collapsed back into his chair,
Lance seemed to deflate with relief.

"Can we see him?" JC asked.

"You'll have to wait until we move him
to a different room, but yes.  There
was a substantial amount of blood loss,
and he's not yet conscious so you'll have
to make it brief, he's very weak right
now and will have to stay in the hospital
for several days yet."  The doctor paused.
"Also, the police need to talk to all of
you.  Soon."  With these words, the doctor
turned and left.

Lance turned to face Joey as he spoke,
"If you don't tell the cops about Anthony,
I will, 'cause Joey..." he took a step
towards him, "...I couldn't giving a fuck
about your issues right now."  He followed
the doctor out.

Still shaken, Justin also got to his
feet, looking way younger then his 19
years.  He had tears in his eyes, his
expression unsure, "What's Lance talkin'
'bout?" he wavered, "You two...what about
Chris?  What does this have to do with
Chris"

Rather then answer, JC reached out to
lead Justin gently out the door, "Why
don't you go with Lance, huh?  We'll
talk 'bout this after we see Chris."

Too tired to argue, Justin just nodded
and left as well.

"Joe..."

"He's right," Joey said, backing away
from JC's touch, "Lance is right.  It's
my fault Chris got hurt."

JC shook his head, "NO.."

"YES.  My mistake.  My past.  Anthony
beat Chris so he could get to me."  He
set his jaw, "And, if I hadn't spilled
that drink on him, he never would of
left.  Well, now I'm gonna go find
Anthony.  I shouldn't of ever let him
get close, Josh.  That was MY mistake.
And I'm going to make it right."

Quickly moving to block his path, JC
put both his hands on Joey's chest to
stop him, "Where you going?  You can't
go now, it's nearly four in the
morning!  The cops, Joey, _Chris_.
You have to..."

"I have to make it right again," Joey
said.  "_Please_, JC..."

"Then let me go with you."

"No."  Joey shook his head.  "I won't
put you guys in the middle any more.
Besides, the guys need you here.
Lance is too mad to think straight,
and Justin is cracking up, they need
you to hold it together for them."

"I can't let you go after him alone,
Christ - he's already pounded on you
once, and now we know he's willing
to KILL."

Face blank, Joey was expressionless.
"What makes you think I'm not?"

It stopped him.  The coldness, the
bluntness.  JC found himself at a
momentary loss of words, but he
quickly shook it off.  "So that's it,
huh Joe?  The final showdown between
Superman and Lex Luther, to the death?
That's just fucking perfect."  He ran
a hand over his face, took in a shaky
breath.  God, had all this started
only two days ago?

No, JC realized.  For US it started
two days ago, it's been following Joe
around for eight years.

"He hurt Chris," Joey said softly,
"Hurt him because of something I did."

"And that means what?  You kill him?
He kills you?  What good could
POSSIBLY come out of going after him?"
JC honestly wanted to hear that answer.

Joey shrugged, stared at his feet,
"Either way it ends."

No.  "Joey, it doesn't HAVE to end
like that.  You don't have to go out
like that."  JC grabbed Joey by the
shoulders and shook him hard, "Use your
head!  Do this RIGHT!  The cops are
waiting, _tell them what you know_,
what we ALL know happened!  They'll
arrest Anthony, he'll be laid up with
attempted murder charges, and he'll be
gone forever!"

Bringing a hand up to his head, Joey
stared solemnly into JC's eyes, "Not
here he won't," he said.  He touched
his heart, "Or here."

"Don't be melodramatic.  Think."  JC
practically growled out the words,
"Fuck your pride, Joe, fuck all that
shit.  USE YOUR HEAD!  For once, forget
about your gut instinct, you can't go
by that all the time.  Forget what you
feel, forget that.  You know what the
right choice is here..."

"How can I forget what I feel?" Joey's
voice held a genuine struggle.  "Forget
what I _feel_?"

"...and what about us?  Justin, Chris,
Lance...me?  If you go out there looking
for Anthony, you're hurting ALL of us."
JC's eyes were bright with unshed tears,
"How do you feel about that?  What does
your gut tell you to do there?"






Lance hung up the phone with Stan and
rubbed his eyes tiredly, that was the
last of the phone-calls.  He had called
Chris' parents and family, the tour
doctor, Stan, and even the producer.
Anyone else who needed to know would
find out from them, Lance was done
playing 'organizer' for the night.  He
didn't have the energy to do anything
more then worry.

He leaned back against the wall next to
the phone, and closed his eyes.  Justin
was in with Chris right now, in the room
just one hallway down, the poor guy was
really freaking out, and who could blame
him?  What it must of been like to find
Chris' body, laying there, covered in
blood....Justin wouldn't of known if he
was dead or alive.  Lance swallowed hard,
pushed himself away from the wall and
buried his shaking hands deep into his
jean pockets.  Would they ever recover
from this?

The sound of muted arguing from the
waiting room drew Lance' attention away
for a moment from Chris.  He could just
make out JC's voice yelling something,
but he could not hear Joey's reply to
whatever was being said.  Joey.  Lance
squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Was it love?  Did he love Joey?  Well,
yes, of course he did.  But was it the
kind of love that he had for Chris, or
Justin, or Josh?  No.  No, it was
something different.  Not that it
mattered now, whatever option could of
been available before, certainly
wasn't now.  Joey was with JC.  He had
seen it with his own eyes, seen them
together, about to kiss on the couch.

What had happened after they had been
left alone?  It hurt to think about,
so Lance stubbornly blocked the thought
away.

More yelling from the room and Lance
wondered if they were arguing about
him, and what he had said.  He flinched
in remembrance, the look on Joey's face
as he spat out the hateful words was as
clear as a photograph in his mind's eye.
He had been angry, upset, scared -
it had come out all _wrong_.  And now,
Joey probably hated him, and JC was just
sick of the sight of him.

The door to the waiting room opened and
Joey stormed out, his jacket gripped
tightly in one hand and a determined look
on his face.  He walked by Lance without
even realizing that the other man was there.
JC watched from the doorway, his own
expression unreadable, but Lance thought
he saw some flicker of emotion there,
akin to fear.

JC looked his way, and the two men shared
a silent moment.

"Where's Chris?" JC finally said.

Inclining his head in the proper
direction, Lance cleared his throat and
wiped the back of his sleeve across his
face.  "316.  Come on, I'll go with you."





Sitting mutely in a chair, as close to
the bed as possible, Justin held both his
hands over Chris', squeezing it as tight
as he dared.  It was taped and IVed,
bandaged from the wrist to the elbow.
That was his right arm.  His left was in
a cast and sling, crooked in against his
chest, and his fingers seemed to be pale,
white bones poking through an oversized
white arm.

His left eye was swollen over blue, his
cheek cut from jaw to eyebrow, and his
lips split, tinged red with blood.  The
hospital gown covered any other injuries,
and the worst one - the knife wound.  A
hard, jagged line that had been cut into
his stomach, the one that had been meant
to kill him.

"...but it didn't kill you," Justin said,
his voice hoarse, "Come on, Chris...come
_on_..."

There were bruises on both sets of
knuckles, indicating that Chris had
fought back, and Justin smiled privately
at the knowledge.  "Yeah, bro, you go
boy."

Machines beeped all around, an IV dripped
a clear solution into his body.  His
hair was still matted with blood.

Justin tried to squeeze some of his own
life into Chris, his hand felt too cold
to be healthy.  He flashed back to that
moment in the elevator when he had run
to Chris' side, had knelt down next to
him and shook him while calling his name.
It was like remembering through a fog,
Justin felt numb, as if he had not been
through it himself but had rather
watched it happen from somewhere far
away.  Chris had been so still, so cold.
So, so dead.  At least, that's what
Justin had thought.  But, apparently, the
doctors were saying otherwise, and Justin
promised himself that he would not give
up that way on Chris again, not ever.

When the door opened, Justin didn't turn,
only barely registered it.  But he did
hear the sharp intake of breath, the
whispered, 'oh my God', and he closed his
eyes.  "He'll be _fine_," he said, his
voice steady, unwilling to believe
anything else.  "Chris...you're gonna be
alright, buddy, come on, wake up..."

JC came to stand on Justin's right,
Lance on his left, and for a moment the
three were silent, the only sound in the
room the steady beep of the surrounding
machines.

Justin looked up, "Where's Joey?"

There was nothing.  Then a voice sounded
from the door, prompting everyone to
turn and look.

"I'm right here."  Joey came up behind
Justin and put his hands lightly on his
shoulders, his eyes skidded over the
bed where Chris lay, lingering on his
unconscious face.  "Oh damn.  Chris..."

"How'd it go?" JC asked.  Lance glanced
over curiously.

"The cops are out looking for him now,"
Joey said, his voice devoid of emotion
as he continued to stare at his friend,
"If they find him, and if Chris
collaborates the story when he wakes up,
Anthony's gonna be put away for a long
time.  They wanted to talk to me some
more, all I really did was give them a
name, but I told them it would have to
wait."

JC rested a reassuring hand on Joey's
shoulder and squeezed, "You did the
right thing, Joey."

He shook his head, "Yeah, for all the
good it'll do."

"It'll help Chris, when he wakes up."
Justin said softly.  He blinked and
turned away from the man in the bed,
looked up at the others.  "You guys
gonna tell me what's going on or what?
Lance, what the hell were you talking
about before?"

Hesitating to answer, knowing that it
had been a mistake to throw something
that personal in their face at such a
vulnerable moment, Lance said nothing,
his face revealing his conflict.  But
Justin deserved to hear _something_.

"Nothing, I was just being a jackass,"
he mumbled, not looking at Joey or JC,
"Don't worry about it."

But then Joey spoke up.  "Actually,
Just, me and JC are kinda...it's hard
to explain.  We're working stuff
through..." at JC's agreeable nod, he
continued, "...I'm not sure how I
can say it so it makes sense..."

Justin's eyes widened, he whipped his
head back and forth between the two,
"You're - you're...DATING?"

"Jesus Christ, Just, it's not as if
we're fucking pinned or anything.
It's complicated," Joey said.  He
frowned, glared at JC, but there was
no real anger in it, "You gonna help
me out here, Josh?"

JC shook his head, managed a smile,
"No, I say anything I might sound
as stupid as you."

"You calling me stupid?!"  The rib
and retort were both half-hearted,
but everyone seemed to get some
relief from the familiar routine.

"Yes, I am.  You're also loud,
annoying, and have funny shaped
legs," he smirked.

Justin let out a bark of incredulous
laughter before turning back to
address Chris.  "You hear that, bro?
See what happens when you leave 'em
alone for just a minute?"

There was another period of quiet as
they all stood silently, lost in their
own thoughts.  At some point, JC
reached over and took hold of Joey's
hand, grasping it tightly in his own,
and ran his thumb lightly over the
wrist.

Lance saw the gesture and quickly
turned away, "Excuse me," he rasped
out, "I - I gotta get some air."

He was in the hall with the door closed
before they could reply, and he sagged
against a coke machine, banging a fist
into it harshly.  He couldn't deal with
this.  He couldn't deal with seeing them
together everyday, knowing that he
screwed up a relationship that could of
been his own.

The only saving grace was that Joey
still seemed oblivious.  He still
didn't seem to know.  Or maybe he did,
maybe he did know and he and JC
laughed good and long about it when
they were alone.  After all, JC had
known, he had been the first one to
call Lance on his feelings about Joey.
The thought angered him.  JC had
known.  He had known how Lance had felt
but then he had gone ahead after Joey
anyway.  What kind of friend was he?

But, no, Lance realized.  That wasn't
fair to JC, it wasn't his fault that
his life was a total train wreck.  And
if JC had feelings for Joey, then why
shouldn't he be able to pursue them?
Lance had never told him not to.

Slumping into a plastic chair nearby,
trying to hold back tears of anger and
frustration, Lance bit hard into his
bottom lip and buried his face in his
hands.  Chris had tried to tell him.
It had been the last thing he had said
to him before leaving him earlier that
night.  Take a chance, do something
about it.  And in that way, JC had done
what Lance had been too scared, too
confused, to do.

The door to the waiting room opened but
Lance didn't move.  He knew who it was
without having to look up.  The foot
fall was distinct, as was just the mere
presence of the other man as he stood
over him.

"I didn't know."  Said softly.

Lance swallowed back the lump in his
throat.  "Would it of made a difference?"

"I can't answer that."  Joey let out a
soft exhault of breath.  "Lance, please.
At least _look_ at me."

"I can't."

Leaning down in front of him, Joey
grabbed hold of both wrists tightly
before pulling them away from Lance's
face, then held them gently in his own.
"Why didn't you say anything?"

It was scary.  Why was Joey doing this?
Why pursue something that would never
happen anyway, why make it so much harder
then it had to be?  Lance searched
deeply for an answer, not only for Joey's
peace of mind but for his own.  All he
could come up with was a simple,
truthful, "I don't know."

A sympathetic, thoughtful contemplation
crossed his face and Joey let the look
between them linger for a moment.  He
stood, pulled Lance gently up, "Come up
with me to the roof.  We can't go out
front or back, there's a bunch of press
and fans waiting on word about Chris.
The air in here is stuffy."

His feet moved of their own accord and
Lance followed Joey to the elevator,
taking a bit of guilty pleasure in
keeping  hold of the other man's hand.
Joey didn't mind.  He smiled a little.






Sometime during the night it had rained.
The black asphalt on the roof was shiny
with water, and a thin, white mist rose
up from it as the hot Florida air met with
the cool ground.  It was as if someone
had dumped a truckload of dry ice at their
feet, creating what could of been the
setting for a scary movie.

There was a landing block squared off for
emergency helicopters, and the surrounding
lights around it were currently off.
Nearby, a small, brick control house stood
silent and dark, no bigger then the size
of a normal hotel room, its roof adorned
with variously sized antenas.  The city
lights leaked up over the edge, bathing
them with its electric, yellow glow.

Glancing at Joey in the near dark, Lance
noticed that he seemed more subdued then
usual.  Calmer.  It was a calm that
probably came with finally being rid of a
past demon, now that Anthony was out of
their lives for good.  He could not evade
the police forever, especially considering
who his victim had been.  Stan would make
sure that the whole thing took place under
the vibrant glow of an NSYNC spotlight,
turning Anthony into ten times the
monster he was.  As for Joey...

Lance mused over this last thought with
an ironic twist to his lips.  Joey.  This
would be hard on him, his past would be
splayed out for all to see, the reporters
would dig and dig until they found what
they were looking for.  But, ultimately,
he would come out as the hero, the
Superman, even as Joey felt like anything
but.  In that sense, Lance supposed, Joey
had gotten what he wanted from Anthony
whether he admitted it or not, he would
be punished where it hurt him the most:
His pride.  And isn't that what Joey
really wanted?  Isn't that why he had been
taking Anthony's crap?  He just wanted to
pay for what he had done.  It was both
honorable and stupid.

"You're being pretty quiet," Joey said
as he walked to the edge of the roof and
looked out over the city.  The ledge came
up to more then Joey's shins.

"You're the one that brought me out here
to talk," Lance countered.  "So why don't
you talk?"

Joey paused.  "I got nothing left to say.
I'm...I'm all talked out."  He turned and
sat on the edge, his back to the 20 story
drop and his eyes seemed to shine from
the city's lights, "But I got a feeling
that you got plenty to say, Lance.  So why
don't you spill?"

"You know it all now, Joe.  I don't have
to say it."  Lance took a step back, it
was a struggle to keep eye contact, with
Joey looking at him the way that he was.
"I don't want to make things difficult for
you and JC, you've had a hard enough few
days."

Why was he doing this?  Couldn't Joey see
that Lance was near losing all control?
He had kept it together for too long, Lance
could feel every bottled up emotion pushing
against the surface of his skin, screaming
to be released.

"This isn't about JC," he said.  "This is
about us."

Curious, Lance felt a spike of confidence
and hope, "There's an 'us'?"

"There's always been an us."  Joey bit
his lip, and got the look on his face that
he always had when he was thinking very
carefully about his next words.  It was
strange.  Joey, one of the most talkative
of the group while in private, barely
spoke out during interviews, but when he
did, he always wore _that look_.  "Lance,
I guess I owe you some sort of
explanation, I'm thinking I probably owe
all you guys one.  Thing is, I honestly
never considered it an issue, but with
these last couple of days and the secrets
that I've been keeping...I've come to
realize that that sort of thing helps
nobody.  I'm not afraid or ashamed of
who I am.

"There are two sides to everyone I suppose.
And with us being so big all of a sudden,
maybe I kept a few secrets 'cause I
wanted to keep some things just to myself."
Joey smiled slyly, "Or at least keep you
guessing."  He sighed, tired.

"I _am_ bisexual.  I realized that a long
time ago, and it's never anything I've
had a real problem with.  Sure, I didn't
exactly go around announcing it to the
world, but...I never understood those who
were afraid to admit it, you know?  I mean,
it didn't make sense to me to deny
something that important about yourself.
But I'm not stupid, I understand the
prejudices that are out there, so I guess
I don't plan on marching in any parades
either."

Lance raised an eyebrow, "I'd like to see
how Stan would react to that, though."  He
took a breath, "You didn't think that any
of _us_ would have a problem with it, did
you?"

Joey shook his head, "No," he said without
hesitation.  "I didn't.  It wasn't about
that.  I just...I don't know, I guess I
kinda figured that you all knew, without
me having to tell you."  He shrugged
sheepishly, "Come on, Lance, I wasn't
exactly being stuble."

"I think we all thought that was just...
you being you."  God, Joey, if only you
knew how out of my mind confused you
can make me.

"It was," Joey smiled, "and I don't plan
on changing my colours any time soon.  I
did kinda get that you all wondered
though, and that's my fault that I didn't
make it clearer to you," his smile faded.
"Maybe if I did, then we wouldn't have
this problem right now."

Avoiding Joey's eyes, Lance played
anxiously with the sleeve of his denim
jacket, "We don't have a problem, Joe,
I'm gonna stay out of your and JC's way."
For both our sakes, he added silently.
This is going to be so hard...

"You know what I mean."  Lance opened
his mouth to protest but quickly shut
it again.  Joey continued, "I didn't
know that you had these feelings for me.
How long has this been going on?"

When Lance didn't answer right away,
Joey got to his feet and walked over,
put a hand out on his shoulder and
rubbed it gently.  His face loomed in
close, Lance could see the bruising on
his jaw even in the near dark, he was
that close.  Joey was always close, he
was always touching, smiling, holding
his body like it was some sort of
loaded gun.  Did he know?  Did he do it
on purpose?  Which would be worse?

Feeling every bone in his body ache,
Lance quickly shrugged away, taking
broken steps back.  "Goddamn it, Joey!"

Taken off guard by the reaction, Joey's
eyes widened and he jerked his hand
away as if scalded.  "Lance?  Sorry, I
didn't - "

"That's EXACTLY the sort of thing that's
driving me crazy, Joe!  What I can't
TAKE!  You're always touching, leaning
in close, letting me know what it could
be like...FUCK!  You're a Goddamn tease
and you don't even realize it!"  Suddenly
taken over by an inexplicable fury,
Lance rushed foreword and grabbed Joey
by the front of his shirt, spun him around
and pushed him as hard as he could against
the wall of the small brick control house
that was situated on the roof.

"You push, and you push, and you push,"
Lance ranted on, not letting go, his words
breathless, "and you expect it to just
roll off people?!  Just like THAT?!  You
touch, you kiss, you tease, I've seen you
bring people to their knees with just your
fucking BREATH on their NECK, and then you
just walk away like it's NOTHING!  And who
knows, maybe to them it's just a harmless
night, but...damn you, Joe, don't you
realize what you to do to me every time
I'm in the same room with you!?"

Lance didn't know what kind of answer he
wanted to hear, didn't know what Joey
could say or do at that moment to possibley
make it okay for him.  His hands were still
fisted in his shirt, and his body pinned
Joey's to the wall.  Both men's breathing
was ragged, they were inches away from
each other's face, and Joey seemed not to
recognize the man in front of him.  Lance
wasn't too sure he recognized himself.  But
he felt good, as in control as he had been
before this whole confusion had started.

//"..do something about it."// Chris' words
came back to him, and they seemed profound,
religious.  Yes, Lance thought.  Do
something...

"Lance..."  Joey's voice seemed a mix of
both anticipation and warning, it was faint
and far away, Lance ignored it.

He kissed him.  Lips, soft and wet against
his own seemed to hesitate, even tremble
a little before they parted under the
insistent probing of his tongue, and Lance
let go of Joey's shirt, moving his hands
around Joe's back to his waist to pull him
even closer.  Their bodies pressed
together, and Lance moaned at the contact,
shifting his hips to intensify the feeling.

It was as he kissed him that Lance realized
for the past couple of days he had been
fooling himself.  These feelings he'd
been having for Joey weren't anything new,
they had been there forever.  But now, as
they rushed out of his mouth with the kiss,
everything inside of him hummed with
pleasure, it was like a floodgate had been
released, and Lance felt both relieved and
dizzy with a desire he had kept buried for
so long.

It was Joey who pulled away first, their
mouths parting with a light "smack" of
wetness, and his head thudded lightly
against the brick of the wall.  Lance
opened his eyes only to see that Joey's
remained closed, and there was an odd
expression on his face.  It reminded Lance
of a man who had just plunged his burning
hand into a bucket of ice water.  Relief,
with an underlining pain.

He stroked the side of Joey's face, the
roughness of his goatee scraping across
his fingers in a pleasantly foreign
sensation.  Joey finally opened his eyes
and looked at him, there was conflict
there, intense enough to give Lance
second thoughts.

Palms that had been pressed flatly against
the wall moved up to touch Lance's waist,
to hold the other man loosely, and Joey
watched them move as if they didn't belong
to him.

Then, suddenly, Lance jerked in his grasp.
An abrupt, spasming upward thrust of his
body that made him crumple against Joe just
as fast.

"Lance?"  Contorted with surprise and pain,
Lance's mouth was open as if to cry out,
but all  that came out was a weak gurgle
vaguely resembling Joey's name.

Soon, Joey was supporting all of Lance's
weight in his arms, but as Lance sank to the
floor and a sticky, hot substance leaked
in between Joey's fingertips, he let him go
and layed him out as gently as he could.
Lance's eyes were closed.  He didn't move.

"I believe that makes it two."

Anthony.  Joey flicked his eyes up, still
half-kneeling by the body of his friend,
his hands stained black with blood.

The big man held the bloody knife in his
right hand, it gleamed silver in the
minimal light, and a brilliant streak of
red ran up the side of it.  It was a little
bigger then an ordinary switch blade, and
Anthony seemed to take great pleasure and
deliberate care in wiping it off on his
black jeans.

"You called the cops on me," Anthony
pointed to Joey with the knife, his voice
was a tease, playfully scolding, "Joey,
Joey, Joey...I'm disappointed in you.
After I finished with your little friend,
I was sure you'd come after me yourself.
But no, you had to make me go and finish
off another one..."  He vaguely gestured
downwards at Lance's still form.  His eyes
narrowed.  "And who would a thought...Joey-
Bear's not as straight and narrow as he
would have some believe.  Did Sonya even
MEAN anything to you, you son of a bitch?"

At the mention of her name, Joey felt a
familiar guilt pinch his heart, but it
was gone before he could fully process
it as even having been there.  He got to
his feet, never letting his eyes leave
Anthony's.

"Why didn't you just come after me?  Why
not kill _me_?" He looked frantically
down at Lance, he was bleeding from the
back, but the wound was close to the
side, so it probably had missed any
internal organs.  "Let me call for help,
Anthony, I'm beggin' you, man, then you
can do whatever the hell you want with
me, just let me help my friend."

But Anthony ignored the request, and
instead seemed preoccupied with Joey's
first question.  He brought the tip of
the knife up to his chin, let it rest
there comfortably.  Joey pictured driving
it into his jaw, into his brain.

"I wanted to make you suffer first.  Like
you made me suffer when you took away
the woman I loved, and my child."  He
took a step foreword, waved the knife in
front of Joey's face.  His voice came out
as a low, gutteral, growl, "You thinkin'
my seeing you at Disney was some sort of
fucking _coincidence_?"

The enormity of Anthony's plan hit Joey
then and he started in shock, "Jesus
Christ...you..."

"Right after Sonya left town, I went
after her, to look for her.  Even if she
wanted nothing to do with me, she was
still carrying MY child.  But when they
found who's kid it was..."  Anthony
chuckled and shook his head, looking
far away at an unseen point, his focus
shifting off Joey for the moment.  "Her
parents were influencial.  Or should I
say her _papa_ was.  If I hadn't left
town, they probably would of gotten my
ass hit.

"So I wandered New York for a while,
keeping outta any serious trouble, but
hey - a guy's gotta eat.  So I stole
cars with this small-time mob boss'
corporation, pulled in four, maybe
five hundred a week.  But when the cops
came down, I was one of the first ones
busted.  They told me they'd reduce my
sentence if I co-operated, so I named a
few low-ranking losers I had ridden with
and got out with only three years in
jail."  Anthony looked back at Joey who
had kneeled down next to Lance again and
was holding both hands over the bleeding
wound.

Lance shifted ever so slightly, but
otherwise remained still.  Most
likely, it was just a reflex to the
pain.

"Which brings me to you, Joe,"
Anthony continued.  Reaching down,
he grabbed Joey by the collar and
pulled him roughly to his feet, half
choking him with his own shirt as he
did it.  "All that time in jail I had
to think...it kept coming back to you.
Your smug, pretty-boy face.  And all
I could think about was how good it
would feel when I got to this moment
right now."

Pulling him hard, Joey felt his feet
leave the ground for the briefest of
moments as Anthony yanked him around
the roof-top, the knife never more
then a few inches away from his face.
A punch landed hard in the middle of
his stomach and he doubled over in
pain as he gasped for breath, sure
that he would of fallen over had it not
been for Anthony still holding onto
him.

"Do you have any idea how it pissed me
off to see you all over television and
in magazines?  Rich and famous, and not
having a care in the world?"  Anthony
laughed coldly again, and the blade of
the knife nicked playfully at Joey's
neck as Anthony held him immboile in a
choke-hold.  "But, I must remember to
thank the good people at Entertainment
Weekly, if it hadn't been for them and
their helpful 'NSYNC Tour Guide', it
would of taken me MUCH longer to track
you down."

Joey could no longer see Lance's
body, Anthony had tugged him too far
away.  But, from the corner of his
eye, he saw an emergency phone hanging
on the outside wall of the control
house, if he could just get to it...

A sharp tug around his neck, and the
choke-hold tightened.  Joey saw
black butterflies dance across his
vision and he fell to one knee.  The
knife was pressed to his cheek, just
below his right eye and Joey cried
out in pain as it dug in slightly,
making blood blossom from the wound
as the skin split apart.

Moving out of pure instinct, Joey
summoned the last of his strength
and reached blindly behind him for
Anthony's leg.  Grabbing him tight,
Joey lifted and tossed him off his
back where he grunted and landed
hard in surprise.

Blood ran down his face, and Joey
made a dash for the phone, fighting
to stay on his feet.  But Anthony
was already up, and he caught Joey
by the waist and rushed him into
the brick wall, knocking the breath
out of him.

A hand grabbed him by the hair and
drilled him foreword.  Joey's skull
bounced off the cold, unforgiving
surface, and he fell down fast onto
his hands and knees with Anthony
standing over him, knife in hand.

Joey felt his world start to blacken,
the only thing that kept him anchored
was the knowledge that Lance could be
bleeding to death a few feet away and
would most certainly die if he didn't
get some help soon.  When Anthony
reached for him, Joey threw an
uppercut as hard as he could, praying
that he would hit something.

There was a satisfying feeling of his
fist meeting soft, giving flesh and as
Anthony let out a howl of pain and the
knife clattered to the floor, Joey knew
he had landed the money shot without
having to look up.

Reaching up with a bloodied hand for
the phone just inches away, Joey
blinked against the blood in his eyes.
His task of calling for help suddenly
seemed much harder, even if Anthony was
withering in agony and harmless.

Joey's head had been split open, he
could feel blood leaking down from two
wounds on his face, and he gritted his
teeth hard.  He wanted to lie down and
sleep, but he knew if he did that, he
and Lance would both die.

Using the wall for leverage, Joey
closed his eyes and pulled himself up
onto his feet, swaying dizzily as a wave
of neausia tossed his stomach.  I can
do this, he thought to himself.   I can
do this for Lance...he wouldn't of come
up here if it weren't for me.  Fuck, I
just keep ruining EVERYTHING don't I?
His hand touched the phone.  It was the
most wonderful sensation in the world,
that hard plastic reciever in his hand,
it was as if he had taken his first
deep breath.  Joey picked it up and with
shaking fingers started to push at the
numbers, blinking again and again as
the world seemed to fade in and out
around him.

He couldn't of been sure if he had
actually gotten through or not when
someone grabbed him from behind - one
hand on his neck, one on his arm.  He
was swung over to the ledge of the roof,
then he was dangling over the side,
totally dependent on Anthony's grip.  He
couldn't struggle, couldn't breathe.  A
drop of blood from his cheek fell and
fell until he couldn't see it anymore.
Down below, cars, lights and people
roamed in front of the hospital
enterance.  Joey could see a white news
van with a satlelight on top.

"Nice one, Joey-Bear," Anthony hissed,
his voice still thick with pain.  "But
playing a little dirty, aren't we?"

If the situation wasn't what it was,
Joey would of laughed.  Here this
maniac was holding him over the ledge of
a roof, and he was talking about playing
fair.

Unconsciousness didn't seem like such a
bad prospect just then.  Joey was
afraid to move, afraid to struggle for
fear that Anthony would drop him all the
sooner.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you,"
Anthony said, holding him a little
farther off.  Joey's toes were now the
only thing that remained on the roof as
he was hung foreword over the ledge.
Anthony gave him a little shake and the
pendant that Joey wore around his neck
slipped from his shirt and dangled freely
against his chest.  The silver 'S'
glinted in the light.

Anthony laughed, "Superman, huh?  Well..."
leaning in, he licked a smack of blood
from Joey's face, and the younger man
shuddered with disgust, "let's see if you
can fly."


=========
TBC

Yes, I did this last time too...but I LIKE
cliffhangers...provided I'm not on the
recieving end that is ;)

msjingles@angelfire.com