He moved like a zombie through the huge house, his feet slapping hollowly on the hardwood floors and mosaic tile as he walked around, around, around through the living room, dining room, kitchen, breakfast nook, den, foyer and back to the living room. An endless circle, an endless passage through pictures on walls, framed photographs on pieces of furniture. He looked at them as he passed, unable to stop and stare at them, unable to focus on them completely. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, his heart hurt and the bottoms of his feet hurt, like he'd been walking . . .

For how long? He caught a glimpse of the calendar as he passed through the kitchen, and it was turned to October. It had been eight months since the accident, six months since he'd been allowed to leave the hospital for good and go home. Home, to this house with smooth surfaces and echoing silences that would not let him rest. This house, which he had never intended to occupy alone.

How long had the doorbell been ringing? It was the same tone as the ringing in his ears; he hadn't been able to distinguish the sound. His feet carried him around another circuit and allowed him to pause at the front door. He peered through the peephole, blue eyes squinting at the brightness of the light outside, at the blond man standing with his head down, finger firmly on the doorbell.

He was happy for a moment, long enough to throw open the door and beam sunnily at Lance, and to ignore Lance's scowl, just for a moment. He moved back from the door as Lance moved in, shut the door behind him, removed his sunglasses. His feet twitched and urged him to keep moving, but Lance had a hand on his forearm, keeping him still. He bounced, just a little, on the balls of his feet and fought the urge to yank his arm away.

"Damn it. JC, you promised." Lance's voice was low, disappointed, more than a little angry, and JC struggled to remember what he'd promised to do. He waved his arms, dislodging Lance's hands, and looked vaguely around the foyer. He opened his mouth, and the rusty croak that emerged surprised him a little.

"I meant to . . . " the croak trailed off, and he frowned at Lance, stepping away and moving back towards the living room, his feet falling into the familiar rhythm. He glimpsed a picture on the wall, a framed photo of he and Justin on the beach in Hawaii two summers ago, both in scrubby beach shorts and grinning hugely. Justin's hand was spread on JC's waist and he was half turned away, looking over his shoulder like Chris's camera had startled him. They both looked heartbreakingly young, happy, and JC shut off the image, walking past it quickly before it could be anything other than a blip on his peripheral vision. He moved into the living room and was surprised when his shirt caught on something, causing him to stumble. He whirled around and flinched at finding Lance behind him, holding on to the back of his shirt, stopping him and holding him in place. He'd forgotten he was there.

"This has to stop." Lance's voice was low, and tight with fury. "This stops. Now. I know it's hard. Do you think it's any harder for you than for me? Or Lynn? Or Dani? Or Joey's entire family? It's hard, Jayce, it's almost unbearably hard. But god damn it, you're not even trying anymore." Lance's voice quivered, just a little and JC watched with fascination as he sank his sharp teeth into his lower lip, until it turned white from the pressure. Lance's voice gained strength and he shook JC's shirt, just a little. "It's way past time for you to stop wishing you were dead too." The voice broke, and JC was surprised when liquid flooded Lance's clear green eyes. "I mean it JC. You're going to get your shit together right now. Because I can't lose you too. I can't."

And his arms were suddenly full of Lance, and he told himself that he was moved by Lance's concern, that he didn't want to see Lance suffer, but maybe he was just relieved to have someone to cry with.

They sat down on the nearest piece of furniture, a large green couch that Justin had insisted was the only thing that would comfortably accommodate his length, with padded armrests so he wouldn't need throw pillows, and they cried together. And JC's feet let him stay there.

~ ~ ~ ~

He'd taken a shower at Lance's insistence. He couldn't remember how long it had been, and he enjoyed the feeling of the hot water, soaping himself absently as his mouth opened to catch the water, eyes closed and not thinking of anything at all. When he came back downstairs Lance was in the kitchen, rattling pots and pans and humming absently to himself. JC sat down at the counter and dredged up a weak smile for him, and Lance smiled back. They both had very red eyes.

Lance plunked a bowl in front of him and sat down across from him with another. JC took a deep breath, inhaled the smell of chicken with rice soup and Pillsbury croissants. His stomach growled and they both snickered weakly. They were silent as they ate, and they did not look at each other, even when he cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"Lance. I'm sorry."

Lance sighed, a small, broken sound. "Me too."

They finished the meal silently.

~ ~ ~ ~

"So. I have some ideas." The tone of his voice took JC right back to the thick of the previous summer's tour, Lance with his laptop and notebooks and thoughtful comments and astute business plans. Lance being efficient was familiar, comforting, and he raised his eyebrows to encourage him to continue.

"First of all, I think you need to get out of this house, and get rid of it. Sell it." Lance spoke the words softly, but to JC they rang at the decibel level of a landing 747. He gaped at Lance in frozen horror, then sprang up, his feet demanding that he move, move move. He wasn't even aware that he was speaking, that he'd started gibbering denials and rejections until Lance jumped up from his chair and caught him by the arms, stopping him in mid flight from the breakfast nook.

"Alright, alright, easy JC. Easy." His deep voice was soothing, calming, and JC gradually stopped struggling and relaxed against the hands that stroked gently down his back. He sniffled, just a bit, as Lance's arms continued to hold him. "I'm sorry C. I'm sorry. Easy, now."

JC heaved a hiccupping breath and struggled to find his voice. "I can't, Lance, I can't, you know . . . it's just, I can't leave our house, I can't . . . ." And Lance soothed him, wordlessly, until he was calm again.

"But you know, JC." Lance leaned back to look him in the eye and he was very, very serious. "You know this is your house. Yours. Justin was here a lot, but this house has always been yours. Just yours."

"I know. I remember." JC's reply was soft, and he closed his eyes against the intensity of Lance's gaze. Lance was wonderful, had always been so strong and he was so worried about him. And deep down in JC there was a little voice that agreed with Lance. It had been too long. He'd fallen too easily into his grief. He'd gone through the cycles and the hospital psychiatrist had taught him to recognize them. The disbelief and the denial, followed by the brain rattling fury that had galloped out of control for weeks, months. Fury at God for taking his loved ones away, rage at the pilot who had miscalculated his height while flying over mountains, rage at Justin, for . . . for what? For getting on the plane? For leaving him? Whatever. He'd exhausted himself with the anger, and when the despondency hit he'd been too depleted to fight it.

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, cracked a small, painful smile even as he blinked back more tears. "It's just...you know... "

Lance nodded, his own eyes tearing up again and his nose turning red. "I know, man. It's horrible."

"I can't. I can't I can't I can't I can't. . ." and Lance murmured soothingly, his hands warm and comforting on JC's back.

"Okay. Okay, too soon. I'm sorry, JC. I'm so sorry."

JC closed his eyes and let himself be comforted. He sniffled a little, and leaned back so his nose wouldn't run on Lance's shirt. "So, you got any more bright ideas?" They both laughed a little, their feeble snorts sounding more like sobs. Lance gave him a small, tremulous smile and his hands were firm on JC's shoulders.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." His tone was encouraging, and JC took strength from it. "Always got to have a back up plan, you know?"

~ ~ ~ ~

Lance's idea turned out to be rearranging JC's bedroom. He resisted, listlessly, but Lance was insistent and it was too big of a job for just one guy. And after two hours of grunting and straining to move the heavy king sized bed, the dressers, and the night stands, JC had to admit that he felt a little better. The windows seemed bigger, and there was more light coming in without the dresser partially blocking the biggest one. There was more floor space. JC ruthlessly squashed the insidious memories of he and Justin moving the furniture in, arguing half heartedly about what should go where as they raced to set the bed up first, laughing breathlessly as they kissed and stroked and dropped screwdrivers and bolts and ended up half on and half off the mattress still on the floor, naked, sweating, so happy. The room didn't seem quite so Justin-like anymore, with his clothes hidden in drawers and his basketball inside the closet, up on a shelf where Lance had carefully placed it when JC had turned his back.

~ ~ ~ ~

Before he left Lance made JC promise that the next day they would rearrange another room, maybe the living room, and JC knew agreeing to that was a big step. He looked around the living room after shutting the door behind Lance, and thought it might be easier than the bedroom had been. Before he could think too deeply about it, he got a box from the garage and packed all the photos of Justin carefully into it. He tried to look at them as he did it, but his eyes were too full of tears to focus.

~ ~ ~ ~

"C."

JC grumbled and turned over, swatting listlessly at Justin's hand as it slid down his waist and cupped his hipbone.

"Jaayaayayyaceeeeeeee......."

Justin's voice hummed in his ear, and a warm tongue slid up the back of his neck. The hand slipped over his hipbone and moved slowly, slowly across his abdomen. JC groaned again, protesting against being woken up, and twisted his face into his pillow. Justin snickered and eased closer, chewed moistly on his earlobe as his hand moved lower. JC's brain, struggling to come on line, shorted out with the exasperated thought that Justin was too good at taking advantage of his morning systems check erection.

"Love you Jayce. Love you..." Justin was warm against his back, his breath moist in his ear, his hand busy inside JC's boxers and his own erection pressed insistently against his ass. JC gasped, beyond protesting, and opened his eyes.

And froze. Stretched out on his left side, he should have been facing the bathroom, but now he was looking at the window, curtains pulled against the early morning light. He remembered yesterday in a frantic jumble--Lance, shower, food, rearranging the furniture, packing the pictures of Justin away. He felt the world tilt as Justin's unmistakable purr vibrated in his ear and he rolled to face him with a gasp that was more like a shriek, eyes wild.

It was Justin. Justin smiling at him as he turned over, Justin's forearm sliding around his shoulders as he gathered JC to him. Justin, his hair buzz cut and soft as puppy fur, his blue eyes dancing, smiling without showing his teeth. JC put a shaking hand out and touched stubble on his chin, felt the slight sting as Justin opened his mouth and bit gently on his forefinger.

JC's mouth opened, and closed, and the room spun in a sickening vortex, and the only things that stayed still were Justin's blue, blue eyes, thickly fringed and steady on his. JC gasped again and wondered wildly if he was dead too. He thought he asked Justin, because he shook his head slowly.

"No, you're not. You're alive. And you're not crazy." His lips quirked, just a little, in a smile that was so painfully familiar, so unmistakably Justin that JC felt his own eyes fill with tears. Justin pulled him still closer, rooting his nose into his neck, wrapping his lightly furred legs around him.

"How?" His voice broke on the simple word, and his brain still fought for oxygen as the room continued to spin. He felt Justin's shrug.

"I don't know." Another shrug, and Justin's hand smoothing over JC's chest, his ribs. He felt Justin frown against his neck. "I . . . I don't know, C. I was nowhere, and than, I dunno, I was here." He leaned back and smiled into JC's face, happy, heartbreakingly beautiful. "I mean, where else would I be? With you, right?"

"Right. Right. But . . . but, how?" JC struggled to wrap his brain around what his eyes and body were telling him was true. He'd never been a person who adapted easily, and Justin made a little face of exasperation.

"JC, I don't know, okay? I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to come back so bad it happened. Or maybe you did it, maybe you wanted me so bad I came back. But," his hand made itself known again at JC's hip. "I'm here." Justin leaned his forehead against JC's, his eyes drifting shut. "I'm here. I don't know how. But isn't it enough?"

"Oh God." JC was sobbing, fighting to keep his eyes clear, to keep Justin in focus. His hands grabbled desperately at Justin's shoulders, frantic to hold, to touch, to keep. "Oh God, Justin. Justin." And Justin was crying too, in that way he had when he was trying to hide it, looking up and biting his lips together. His eyes were a huge, liquid blue and JC sobbed harder as Justin pulled him hard against his body. They curled tightly around each other as they cried.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Lance? Lance. Uh, I gotta cancel today." JC stood next to the bed, and couldn't take his eyes off Justin as he prowled out of the bathroom in a pair of JC's too small boxers. "No, no, nothing's wrong, just overdid the furniture moving the other day. No, everything's fine. I actually feel a lot better today. A LOT better. No. Yeah, yeah, we'll do it in a few days, okay? No, I really appreciate it. I appreciate everything." Justin was beside him now, leaning close, his tongue reaching out for JC's free ear. He'd always resented it when JC spent too much time on the telephone. JC made an effort to focus on Lance's voice.

"I know I've been a real pain, and I'm sorry. But that's over, and I'm gonna be okay." JC's eyes closed and he hissed in a breath as Justin ran a hand down his chest and teased at the opening of his boxers. He could see Justin's grin out of the corner of his eye and was suddenly frantic to get off the telephone. Lance's voice, slightly concerned, droned on. "Yeah, I remember that. Production meeting. Monday. 10:00. It's no problem, I'll be there. No, I'm really looking forward to it. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Okay. 'Bye."

The telephone went dead as Justin yanked the cord out of the wall and grabbed JC around the waist, tumbling him to the still unmade bed. And for the rest of that day JC didn't think about anything.

~ ~ ~ ~

They learned some things in the next few days.

The first lesson came when the Chinese food they ordered was delivered, and Justin opened the door. When the delivery girl raised her eyebrows and looked blankly in through the opening, they realized she could not see Justin, only JC as he came around the corner.

The second was that Justin wasn't able to step outside of the house. He couldn't even cross the threshold of the garage, although he knew JC kept his car and motorcycle in there and he badly wanted to see them. Something strange happened to him when he tried, his solid body shimmered and for a terrifying moment became insubstantial, and JC grabbed his hand and yanked him back into the kitchen. They were both sweating with panic, and Justin didn't try to go outside again.

But did it matter? Justin was there, warm and real under his hands and mouth, and JC didn't even want to question the hows or whys anymore. It was enough to be there, curled on the green couch, feeding each other with chopsticks, giggling as the food dropped on their chests. It was enough to snuggle sleepily while watching television, needing to sleep but not wanting to. It was enough to draw as closely together as two bodies could get, Justin's mouth on his neck and his fingers insistent on his hips, wrapped in the comfort and joy of each other's presence. After so long, it was as close to heaven as JC was able to imagine.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Yeah, I know all that JC. What I don't understand is why you have to do this TODAY."

Justin had never been pretty when he turned petulant, and JC sighed and rubbed his forehead as he tried, once more, to explain.

"Look, I've already put it off twice, and they've been really nice about it. And this is only my second real producing job, and I can't afford to get a flaky reputation right off the bat like this..."

JC paused, because obviously Justin had stopped listening as soon as he realized that JC wasn't going to say what he wanted to hear. That he would cancel his production appointment, that he would stay home with him. The scowl was back, but it morphed slyly into a wheedling smile as Justin wrapped his hands around JC's hips, leaned his head against his stomach and looked up at him with impossibly wide and blue eyes.

"But C." he whispered, his lips pausing to kiss a path down JC's abdomen. He pulled the shirt up, exposing bare skin. "Why do you have to even do this? I mean, it's not about the money, I know you have money. Don't you have my money too? Didn't I leave you all that?" JC took a deep breath and steeled himself against the feeling of Justin's lips on his stomach. He couldn't speak. "You don't really want to leave me here alone, do you? I mean, I've missed you so much and I've only been here for a couple of days now, and. . ." the vibration of his voice was doing radical things to JC's pulse and he struggled to remember what he'd been about to go do as Justin's lips moved lower. The voice whispered again. "And I want you JC, I want you so much, love you, love you..."

JC closed his eyes and surrendered.

~ ~ ~ ~

The doorbell again, and Lance was furious, and concerned because it was the middle of the day and JC had obviously just rolled out of bed. His green eyes were intent on JC's face and he felt a helpless, overwhelming urge to tell him everything. But he had no proof, and Lance wouldn't believe something he couldn't see.

And Lance couldn't see Justin, although Justin had come down the stairs at a hard run when he'd heard his voice in the living room, had skidded to a stop in front of him with a gigantic and joyous smile that had faded as Lance looked right through him. His shoulders had slumped, just a little and JC had felt like crying for the first time since he'd woken up with Justin beside him.

It had been hard to focus on Lance with Justin sitting quietly across from him, but he'd apologized for missing his first day as producer for one of FreeLance's new acts again, and promised that he'd be there the next day. He nodded to Lance's reiterations of why this was important, for his own mental health as well as the future of his career. Lance was right. Lance was almost always right.

Lance leaned forward, pinning JC to the couch with his eyes. "It's not just about the producing gig. You know that. It's about getting out of this damn house. It's about looking forward instead of looking back." He sighed, and JC thought he'd never seen Lance look so tired, not even years ago, during the endless touring in Germany. "It's about life, JC. Justin's gone. But you still have your life. For my sake, will you please start living it?"

JC slid a glance at Justin, sitting quietly on the couch beside him, giving Lance his undivided attention. "Yeah, Lance. I know. I hear you. You're right."

Justin caught his eye, his own glance unreadable.

~ ~ ~ ~

Lance left reluctantly, having obtained JC's promise to be in the studio at 8:00 the next morning, but without being invited to dinner. It had been hard to say goodbye to Lance, he'd wanted to invite him to stay, but Justin had been standing close behind JC, his hands already moving on his waist, and although Lance couldn't see Justin he'd sure as hell wonder if JC started gasping in front of him for no apparent reason. As soon as the door closed behind him Justin spun him in his arms, his mouth closing over JC's and JC was lost.

~ ~ ~ ~

The alarm went off at 7:00 and he groaned in protest. Justin grumbled beside him "turn it off," and rolled over, his warm body squirming until he'd half buried JC in the mattress.

"No. I gotta get up." JC tried to unwrap Justin's limbs from his, but Justin only clung tighter and this was just too difficult, after the night they'd just spent. How much sleep had he gotten? Half an hour? It had already been getting light outside when he finally drifted off. Justin's appetite and stamina had always amazed him. But keeping JC up for the entire night before JC had something non-Justin related to do was one of Justin's oldest tricks.

Even now his hands were moving with purpose up JC's legs, his mouth sliding closer to his ear, and JC felt himself start to sink. He could be a little late, right? Justin's lips slid down the side of his neck and he caught his head, pulling him closer. Justin shifted, rolling half on top of him, his cock already hard against JC's thigh. He'd be very late. He'd probably be too late. Another of Justin's old tricks. With an effort he focused on Lance, on his promise, and dodged Justin's too knowing lips, diving out of the bed, gasping.

"Jesus! I told you I had to go!" He scraped a hand through his hair, still breathing unevenly, and Justin pouted up at him, rolling over and tucking his hands behind his head.

"Well fine. Go. Be busy and important, producing for some no name, no talent piece of shit wanna be vocal group. If that's what turns you on, go for it." There was a sneer in the voice, a hint of derision in the blue eyes, and JC's jaw hardened.

"Your problem isn't what I'm doing. Your problem is only that it doesn't have anything to do with you! Christ, Justin, I've only just gotten to the point of actually being interested in doing something other than moping around this fucking house! Do you even have a CLUE how hard it's been for me? If you'd made your appearance a few months ago, believe me, this wouldn't be an issue! Don't sulk over something that's your own goddamn fault!"

The words hung between them in the dim bedroom, and they stared at each other, both of them shocked at the depth of JC's anger. Justin broke first, his face crumbling into sorrow as he crawled across the bed into JC's arms. "I'm sorry..." he started, voice trembling.

And JC met him halfway, pulling him into his arms as he soothed, and comforted, and hated himself for blaming Justin for his own death.

~ ~ ~ ~

And so he went, and Justin let him go with only a token resistance, saying he would get caught up on some music listening. He smiled angelically, and wished JC a good day. He even threatened to cook dinner, making JC roll his eyes and beg him not to bother. His goodbye kiss was sweet, so sweet, and JC had a moment of severe doubt. What was he doing? Leaving Justin? Justin, for whom he'd been pining almost to death for only weeks ago?

But he remembered Lance, and couldn't bear to disappoint him again. So he went.

~ ~ ~ ~

And despite his lack of sleep, it had been a very good day. Orlando was beautiful in the fall, the sun was out and the humidity was low and everything was green. How long had it been since he'd even been outside? JC felt an almost-forgotten thrill as he entered the studio, pleased at the familiarity of every button and dial and interested in the young vocal group that looked at him with awe as he gave them instructions. It was a full, interesting day, and he hummed as he locked up the studio, pocketing the tapes of today's work to review at home tonight.

JC was surprised but not unhappy to see Lance's SUV pull up next to his own jeep as he approached. Lance's smile was easy, and JC grinned as he pulled the digital tapes out of his pocket, showed them to Lance. "Hey, they're good! Got some really good stuff today. You should drop by tomorrow, hear how they sound." Something tense in Lance relaxed, just a little, and he slapped JC on the shoulder with a smile.

"Let's get some dinner. You can tell me all about it." But JC couldn't go out to dinner, Justin was home, waiting for him. It shocked him to realize that he hadn't thought about Justin in hours. Justin, who had been on his mind 24/7, for too many years to admit to right now. And now he was back, and JC hadn't even thought about him today. He felt a spurt of panic and put Lance off, mumbling something about wanting to get work done that evening, and he ignored Lance's narrowed green eyes as he bolted to his jeep.

~ ~ ~ ~

Who were all these people? And where had they come from? The house had looked quiet from the outside and JC had almost charged in the door, calling Justin's name in a panic as the front door slammed behind him. The house seemed full of people, music was pouring from the stereo and there was, unbelievably, a basketball game going on in his living room. He gaped in astonishment as Justin flew by, dribbling madly, bouncing the basketball in a lay up against the far wall. The room erupted in shouts and claps, and JC was suddenly spun around and a familiar body was hugging him, hugging him tight. It was Chris, and coming around the corner was Joey, and they were so real, so familiar, so loved and so desperately missed and for just a moment it was like the plane accident had never happened, and it was just another day at his house, on hiatus between tour dates.

But who were all these other people? Strangers, all of them, and Justin in the middle of it all, as usual. He buttonholed him on his way by and Justin moved his shoulder in an elegant shrug, saying that they were just friends, he'd needed more people to have a decent basketball game, and some others had come along "just because they could." He raised an eyebrow when JC just stared at him and said, defensively, "What, JC? You know Joey never was any good at basketball, and Chris and I wanted a good three on three."

JC looked in disbelief at the basketball marks on his white walls, at the furniture stacked precariously in the corner of the dining room. Justin followed his gaze and huffed in impatience, and said "What? It's not like I can go outside, you know." He raised his eyebrows significantly, and JC was forced to nod. The chaos in his house swirled around him. He gripped the tapes in his pocket like they were a lifeline. He hated coming home to chaos, he always had. Justin knew better.

Justin tossed the basketball to Chris with a nod, and turned to slip his arms around JC, his sweaty body sliding slickly along his torso. "C'mon, C," he murmured persuasively. "You're not really mad, are you?" The blue eyes pleaded with him, and JC knew he was being worked even as his body demanded that he succumb.

Chris dashed by, giggling, smacking JC on the shoulder just as Justin's lips were sliding his own open. "Get a ROOM!" he shrieked and was gone. Justin's eyes didn't even open and his big hands slipped around JC's hips, pulling him closer. "Ow. What the hell?" Justin's fingers found the hard edges of the tapes in JC's pockets, and he pulled them out.

"Oh. Yeah." JC had forgotten he had them. He forgot everything when Justin was working him. "Uh, I have to work on these tonight." He stepped back from Justin's too-clever hands, and took a deep breath. This felt familiar, all of this. "I need to work. On this. It's good stuff, and I'm going to have a full day in the studio tomorrow..."

JC's voice trailed off as Justin slid his mouth over his jaw and up to his left ear. His hips twitched involuntarily and Justin's hands tightened, sliding over JC's ass and scraping a pattern on the seam of his jeans. JC struggled to stay focused. "Uh, J. Justin, these, uh these people -- they gotta go. 'Cause I gotta work, you know?"

"Aww, JC. No. No, c'mon, really." These were punctuated with little, moist kisses on JC's nose, cheek, lips, ear. "We were just getting a good game going and they're all really happy to be here and stuff, and it'll only be for a little while." He kissed him deeply, sliding his tongue slowly, moistly into JC's mouth. "I'll make it up to you. I'll clean all this stuff up. We'll watch Star Wars tomorrow. All of 'em. I'll make you popcorn. Please?"

This was Justin at his most endearing, and yes, this felt very familiar indeed. It felt like one of the last fights they'd had, when JC had come home to a houseful of people when all he'd wanted was to curl up with Justin and sleep for a week. Justin had always been far more social than he. It got wearing, after awhile. Exhausting.

But did it matter, now? What was one evening of noise and chaos, when he finally had Justin back, when he'd been so desperate for him for so long? His hands moved over Justin's head with sudden urgency. This was Justin, an unbelievable miracle, a gift. What else mattered?

The voice in his mind sounded suspiciously like Lance's. Life mattered. Living it mattered. What exactly was going on here, in JC's house? In the house that he'd once almost shared, and was now inexplicably sharing again, with Justin?

Justin's hands slid up his sides, sure, confident that he could change JC's mind. "C'mon, C. Please? C'mon..." His lips were doing obscene things to the insides of JC's ear, and the room spun a little as JC gasped for air and his eyes started to drift shut. With a huge effort he remembered the tapes, the work to be done, Lance, trusting him, depending on him not be a flake, and he slid fluidly out of Justin's grasp.

"No. Uh, no, I really have to get to this stuff. Really." He backed away from Justin's hands, his large eyes, his gorgeous, pouting lips, but felt himself weakening. He sighed. "Alright. I'll use the equipment upstairs. Just--keep it down a bit, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. No problem, Jayce." Justin's smile was wide, happy, his eyes glistened and the noise level from the living room seemed to escalate. "Hey." Justin eyed JC knowingly. "I'll, uh, make it worth your while. Later." The grin widened. "Definitely."

JC gulped and fled up the stairs with his tapes, hearing the noise level hit deafening as Justin re-joined the basketball game in his living room.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Do you ever think about them?" The question was out of his mouth before it had even formed in his mind, and JC cursed his runaway mouth as Lance looked up sharply from his lunch.

"What do you mean? Of course I do. Why?" Lance's eyes were wide on JC's and he felt himself flush. He looked down at his turkey sandwich, unable to meet Lance's eyes.

"Well, it seems like you don't really, uh, I dunno, you never talk about them. You never bring them up." It sounded lame, even to JC's own ears. "And I remember things sometimes, so clearly, it's as if it's, uh, really happening. You know, like the accident didn't happen. Like they're still, uh, here." Lance's eyes sharpened on JC's as he came to a stumbling halt, and his voice was deep and very, very gentle.

"Yeah, I remember them." He smiled, slowly, his eyes a little unfocused. "I remember how Chris would have bad dreams on the bus and want to be snuggled, and the way Joey would want to stop at Super Walmart in the middle of the night and how he'd buy everyone their favorite snacks, even if we were all asleep." JC squeezed his eyes together, the lump in his throat almost painful. Lance's voice continued, quiet, deep. "I remember you and Justin crying at my hospital bed when I got sick. I remember Chris getting into that bar fight 'cause someone called me a faggot. I remember Justin fighting management for extra days off so I could go home to see my family." Lance's hand reached out to hold JC's, heedless of the busy deli they were in, their sandwiches forgotten on the table before them. His deep voice quivered just a bit.

"I remember the way Justin used to look at you, long before you clued in enough to look back. I remember how things were between the two of you, that weekend in Switzerland, when you finally did look back." His hand gripped JC's and now they were both crying, a little. "I remember how happy you were, how in love, and how happy we were for you. How good it made us all feel when you two were so happy." They smiled a little at each other, and Lance continued on.

"But I remember other things too, JC. I remember how Chris would lose his temper and come fucking unglued over little, inconsequential things. I remember how Joey would cheat on Kelly, even when she was pregnant with Brianna. I remember Justin lying, lying to the very end about his virginity, about his sexual orientation, and how much that hurt you. I remember how he helped you pick out and furnish that goddamn house, then refused to live with you in it. Because he was afraid of how it would look." JC took a deep breath, his eyes still on his wilting sandwich and the pain in his chest was very real.

"I remember how Justin would jet off with Brit for days, just to protect his image and hers, and leave you alone. And I remember that he wouldn't let you make a move that he didn't control." Lance's hand squeezed JC's hard, until he looked up and met his eyes. "JC, they were our best friends, our brothers, our business partners, our creative partners, and we loved them. Loved them. But they were people. They weren't perfect. Justin wasn't perfect. He loved you, and you loved him, but you guys had your problems. I think it's important for you to remember that, as well as the good stuff. Don't you?"

JC wiped his eyes with his napkin, and nodded.

~ ~ ~ ~

Justin was quiet, watchful, his eyes following JC as he came in the door and set his keys down. "Hey."

JC smiled at him, still, after all these months still so goddamn thrilled just to see him. To come home to him. "Hey yourself."

"How did it go?" Justin, polite, a little distant, waiting on the couch for JC to come to him.

"It went good. Really good. These kids are going to make Lance a ton of money. You know how happy that'll make him." Why did he feel so strange? He hovered in the entryway of the living room, hesitant to approach. Justin's gaze had drifted back towards the television. He was watching MTV. It was Britney's latest video, and JC felt a sharp twist of something ugly deep in his chest as he watched Justin's rapt expression. He strode over to the television and hit the power switch.

"Hey!" Justin protested. "Hey, I was watching that."

"Why don't you just ask me about her. Don't you want to know?" JC's voice was quiet, but the tone was vicious and Justin's eyebrows rose warily. "Don't you want to know what she's up to? She still keeps in touch, you know. She mourned you, very publicly, for exactly four months, then started dating one of her dancers. They're engaged. And oh, yeah," he sneered as Justin turned and looked out the window. "Yeah, she's waiting for her wedding night. Anything else you want to know."

Justin's eyes were back on him as JC heaved in sudden fury, and he rose slowly from his seat on the couch. He moved across the room, gliding, until he was nose to nose with JC and his blue eyes bored into him. "JC." His voice was quiet, very quiet. "Why do you think I care? I told you over and over that I didn't care about her. You know I never cared about her. You know that I love you. That for me it's always been about you." He moved closer, hands smoothing over JC's shoulders, mouth fluttering across his face gently. "You know that. Right?"

JC struggled just for a moment to hold on to the old anger, to ask the old bitter questions. But Justin knew how to get around him, had always known, and there didn't seem to be much point anymore to those questions or that anger. Didn't he have everything he'd always wanted, right here in his arms now? Didn't he?

~ ~ ~ ~

"So, how does it feel?"

JC smiled a little at Lance's question. "How does what feel?"

Lance gestured at the studio, the headphones and equipment, the tired but happy vocal group filing out, at JC himself, stretching on his stool. "All of it. To be back. To have done such good work. To have accomplished something like this." He quirked a smile and raised his eyebrows. "To have done it all in such a cost effective way."

JC laughed, really laughed, at Lance's ever-present preoccupation with the bottom line. "It feels good, man. You know it does." He slid a smile at Lance and brought his arms down from their bone cracking stretch. "And I owe you." Quietly. "I know you had to twist some arms to get me this gig, and I know I must have scared you at first. But I’m grateful." He hesitated, wanting to say more, but not knowing exactly what. His eyes met Lance’s warm green ones and they both smiled, just a little.

Lance shrugged. "It was nothing. I knew you’d be perfect for this job, and I thought you’d love doing it, if I could just get you out of that goddamn house."

JC’s gaze dropped, and he flushed, just a little. "Yeah, man, I know."

Lance’s gaze remained on his face, direct, intent. "I hope the worst is over, now." It was more of a question than a statement, and one JC didn’t really feel able to answer. He kept his eyes on the console, and Lance took the hint.

"Well. So, will you let me buy you dinner? Talk about your next project?"

JC raised his eyes and it was just Lance, familiar, comforting Lance, and dinner sounded really good. Dinner, and talk about the future, not the past. He pushed the thought of Justin, waiting at his house, from his mind. Maybe if he was late Justin would’ve picked up some of the god awful mess he always left all over the place by the time he got home. He was such a slob, always had been. Such a little thing, but it drove JC crazy, sometimes.

"Or not." Lance quirked a smile at him, sad, resigned, and JC realized he hadn’t answered him about dinner.

"No, dinner sounds great." He stood, pulling on his jacket and couldn’t resist one more good stretch, feeling Lance’s eyes move over his stomach as his shirt pulled up. Familiar. Comforting. Lance. Lance would want barbeque. JC smiled, meeting Lance’s watchful green eyes, and prepared to battle to the death for Chinese food.

~ ~ ~ ~

It was very, very late when he got home, and the house was silent and dark. He let himself in quietly, in case Justin was sleeping, and wondered absently why Justin needed to sleep now. Or eat. Or do any of the things the living did. His brain skittered away from that thought.

The bedroom was dark, but he could make out Justin’s outline in the window seat, bathed in silvery starlight and looking ethereal. He approached quietly, hesitated before reaching out to touch Justin’s shoulder. He just didn’t look real. But he was, wasn’t he?

"Hey," he greeted him softly, and Justin smiled gently in return. His hand reached out for JC’s, and he pulled him down to sit facing him in the window, his fingers toying absently with his hand and wrist. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and JC felt a sudden chill.

"I, uh . . . well, I got some things to say to you." Justin hesitated again, still intently studying JC’s fingers, and he smiled, laughed a little. "Funny, I’ve been rehearsing this all night, but I can’t seem to remember how it goes."

JC pulled his fingers away, slowly. "It doesn’t sound like anything I really want to hear, J. Maybe I’ll just take a rain check, huh?"

Justin smiled, sadly, looking out the window again, and JC was struck for the millionth time by his beauty. He reached out, slowly, and ran his finger along Justin’s jaw, tracing the smooth line up to his cheekbone and across his face. Justin’s eyes closed and he leaned into JC’s palm.

"I just want to tell you, JC, that I meant what I said to you. Every bit of it. I’ve loved you, for so long, so much longer than you ever even knew." A glimmer of a smile as JC’s finger slid across his bottom lip. "All I ever wanted was you, a long time before I even knew what I was feeling. And I was so happy, when you started to love me back." He sighed, his breath hitching, and JC’s eyes burned. "But I know, I know that a lot of the time I made you unhappy. And I’m so sorry, so so so sorry for all of that." His voice was barely above a whisper, and his eyes opened to look out the window, gaze far, far away, fixed on a distant point. "I sometimes think if I’d been older, or if we hadn’t been so famous and living in such a goddamn fish bowl, if I hadn’t been so afraid, all the time afraid . . ." He trailed off, and picked up JC’s hand again, twining their fingers together, and took a deep shuddering breath. "I remember the end, the plane going down, and the only thing I could think of was you. How when I’d gotten on that plane you’d been unhappy with me, and how badly I wanted a chance to make it all up to you. How I’d give anything to be able to see you again, and tell you how much I love you, and how sorry I am that I screwed things up between us."

JC found his voice with an effort, but his reply was barely above a whisper. "I knew. I knew you loved me, Justin. I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t." He didn’t realize that he was speaking in the past tense until Justin looked up, tears competing with a tremulous smile on his face.

"Do you think we would’ve made it? Would I have ever grown up enough to be able to give you what you needed?" Justin sounded desperate, desperate for JC to say it, desperate to hear it, and JC’s throat closed up because this was all sounding very much like an ending.

"Oh, yeah." JC whispered it with a wobbly smile of his own, his fingers reaching out to slide across Justin’s hair. "We would’ve made it, eventually. We loved - love - each other too much to have ever given up, don’t you think?" He slid his arms around Justin, unable to look at his face any longer, closing his eyes and holding him tight, feeling Justin curl into him. He gulped, trying so hard to love him a little less desperately. Trying so hard to let him go.

"C’mon, Justin. Come to bed. Let me make you feel better." He scooped Justin off the window seat, feeling his tears on his shoulder as he led him into the room. And for the space of one night, it lasted.

~ ~ ~ ~

When he woke up, he was alone. The house was silent, and he knew better than to look for Justin. He knew he was gone.

JC was numb, hot and cold, and he cried for a long, long time in the shower. But he dressed, and when he found himself beginning to pace a circle through his downstairs he stopped himself and stepped out the front door. He breathed deeply, and raised his face to the sunlight, and tried very hard not to think of anything at all.

The sound of tires on asphalt startled him into opening his eyes, and he smiled at Lance as he pulled up, so real, so alive on this warm sunny morning. Lance exited his car and stood next to JC on his front lawn, smiling back. Their hands reached towards each other and touched, just once.

The curtains on the front window behind them twitched, and a face appeared for a moment, watching the two on the front lawn with a smile through a wash of tears. An arm appeared, slung around Justin’s shoulders in comfort and support, as he touched the glass and said goodbye. And they were gone.

~ End