DISCLAIMER: Story is fiction. None of it's true. Not even the imaginary lives I've created for the celebrities. So don't go running to the magazines to sell the story that Justin, Lance, Jc are really gay. It would be a lie. And we don't want you telling lies now do we. Besides, I would hate to sick Gabriel on all of you.
To the readers: Thanks for everyone who nominated our stories for the Boy Band Story Awards. It's a real honor to be along side such great writers as the authors of Rebound, My New Life, My Girlfriend Made Me Do It, In the Streets, Brain and Me and many more to numerous to count. So thank you to everyone for supporting your favorite authors on Nifty and for taking the time to vote for them. Cheers.
Personal message: Hey Angel, still here if not a bit humbler. Maybe we should put all this behind us and move forward. How many times can a guy apologize? (pouts)
BLIND REVOLUTION CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A VIEW INSIDE BY: Roguewolf/FireAngel
When all the colors begin to fade And the imitation turn to grey When the Iron Man begins to rust And the Holy Water turns to dust Who's the one Who claimed my liberty Robbed my soul of freedom How long must I put up with the Unholy sound of your gun Tell me brother...R Beach
The apartment was dingy to say the least. Illuminated by a single lamp next to the computer table, the room seemed to be clothed in shadow. An acid stench permeated the space, years of cigarette smoke clung to the walls, giving them a yellow hue. A huge overflowing ashtray sat right next to the keyboard, a half-smoked Marlboro smoldering in the ashes. Next to the ashtray, a steaming cup of coffee broke through the stale cigarette smoke, giving Scott only a hint of the full flavor of the blend.
Scott's clothes were rumpled and stained from his many hours of searching through hundreds of sources, trying everything in his power to help his friend out. His eyes were line with dark circles, bloodshot and glazed. To a casual observer, Scott would look just one step higher than a homeless person, not the almost brilliant hacker that he was. But that was okay with him, he preferred to hide behind his screen and let others have the glory.
In the years that he worked for Gabriel Foster, Scott had amassed a small fortune. Using Gabriel's connections to parlay his salary into millions, conveniently stored in several offshore accounts. But he didn't work for Gabriel for the money, or the opportunity to steal from almost everyone. It was the constant challenge that hooked him. He was most happy sitting behind the computer, his powerful servers searching tiny bits of information, storing them in hidden data banks, pouring over the information, finding out secrets. That was the drug he was addicted too.
And as he patiently peered at thousands of emails, he noticed a feeling that was unfamiliar. This was the first time he couldn't help Gabriel out. For the first time in their partnership, he had failed his friend at every turn. Whoever was playing this game was always one step ahead, seemingly able to predict every move that Scott would make. But the long hours glued to the leather chair was about to pay off, he had traced an email to the security offices of Hershey Park. Whoever the killer was, he worked for the Stadium, a trusted employee that could move freely throughout the stadium at will. For all he knew, he could be one of the guards stationed in the box with the Senator.
Scott stopped typing, leaning far back in his chair he stretched. A yawn escaped his lips but he fought back the exhaustion he felt. Reaching out for the coffee, he swallowed the bitter liquid. Taking one last drag off the cigarette, he put another one to his mouth and lit it with the smoldering snub of the one in his hand. His throat felt scratchy, his eyes burned from lack of sleep and cigarette smoke, his lower back was numb and the right side of his body tingling annoyingly. But he wasn't going to give up. Gabriel had a little less than eight hours to stop the assassination and he was the only person that could shed some light on the mystery.
So with a dogged determination, he bent over the keyboard and started going through miles of code. The answer was somewhere in front of him and all he had to do was find it before Gabriel or the Senator was killed. He had never felt more helpless in his life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gabriel wiped the sweat from his forehead with a napkin, trying in vain to escape the powerful rays of the sun. He had taken refuge at an outdoor cafe, sitting under the shade of an umbrella as he sipped his ice water. He watched the steady stream of family's parade by, finding no comfort in their laughter as they enjoyed the diversions of Hershey Park.
Nysnc had disappeared an hour earlier, retreating back to the safety of the hotel, out of danger for the moment. He wasn't sure why he stayed at the park. Except that he had an invisible itch that un-nerved him. His mind was a jumbled mess, a far cry away from his normal single minded perseverance that had ruled his life for ten years.
For the entire day he had watched the family's around him with dispassionate interest. Blending in with them when the need arose but barely giving them a passing thought. But as the Senator retreated back to the hotel and then Nysnc leaving, he found himself studying them. It awoken something inside him he long ago thought dead.
As he sat there on the hard plastic chair, his mind wandered back to a time long ago. A time of his youth, his early childhood. And for the first time in ten years, he wondered what his own family was doing.
His mind drug up images of his mother. Early recollections of her singing him to sleep. Holding him in the darkness when he was scared. He could remember clearly her face, regal and filled with love. Her velvet voice as she sung some nameless lullaby, softly stroking his cheek as he drifted off to sleep.
He remembered her as she was the day she died. Laughing, joking with him as he ate his eggs and toast. He could remember what she made for his lunch that day as he ate his breakfast. Tuna on whole wheat, a light layer of mayonnaise with a wedge of cheddar cheese on the side. She had packed him two peanut butter cookies, his favorite, along with a handful of plain potato chips. She gave him two shiny quarters to buy milk from the cafeteria with a warning not to lose them.
When he was finished, they piled into the car and headed off to the local donut shop where she picked up two dozen doughnuts for her bridge club meeting. He could remember her musical laugh when she allowed him to eat one of the donut holes that were sitting on a sample tray. They got back in the car and after they buckled up, she headed for the freeway and the twenty minute commute to the private school he was attending.
He could remember plainly, she was singing along with the radio, some Patsy Cline song, when they turned on the ramp to Highway 9. For some reason, she looked down and opened one of the boxes of donuts. He could remember her begin to count them out loud in Spanish. He remembered joining in, his boyish voice blending with her older velvet voice.
The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. He never saw the car stalled on the entrance ramp. Or the concrete barrier they plowed headfirst into as his mother tried desperately to avoid smashing into the car. The only thing he saw was her face. One minute smiling, singing out in Spanish as she counted, the next minute her face filled with fear. Her blue eyes wide, her mouth opened in a silent O. He could remember hearing the screeching of tires as the car swerved to the right. Hearing the crunching of metal as the car smashed into the concrete.
Everyone told him that she died instantly, her neck snapping upon impact. They told him that she felt no pain, that she didn't even know what happened to her. But deep down he knew they were lying. He had seen her face, read it in her eyes. He had been there in the shattered car, waiting for the paramedics to cut him out of the battered vehicle. The seatbelt had pinned him tightly against the seat, his head turned towards her. In those moments, he saw her die. He heard the gurgling sound as she tried in vain to breathe. He could smell death as it wrapped his mother tightly in its arms and took her away from him forever. He knew, a part of him had died that day. He was only ten years old. He couldn't understand how God could let this happen too him. He always tried to be a good boy, said his prayers at night. He just couldn't understand how a loving God would ever take his mother away from him. For the first time in years, he remembered it all.
He started to blink as a single tear rolled down his face. He quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. Looking around at all the happy family's enjoying Hershey Park; a quiet rage started boiling up inside him. First like a drop, then turning into a torrent of water that threatened to wash him away.
"Beautiful day isn't it."
He turned his face blank as he stared at the man next to him. "Excuse me?" He asked, clearing his throat again.
"This day, beautiful sunlight. Puffy cotton candy clouds floating aimlessly up in the clear blue sky. It's beautiful." The man said, reaching for his pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him.
"I guess." Gabriel shrugged, not really in the mood for talking.
But the man didn't take the hint as Gabriel turned from him. Instead he continued, "Take me for instance. I work a billion hours a week. I commute two hours to work every day, work ten or twelve hours, then commute another two hours back to my family. The next day I get up and do the whole thing over again. I never get to enjoy a day like this back there, back there in my real life."
Gabriel grunted, reaching for his own cigarettes.
"I work hard; give my family everything they could ever hope for. A nice house, two cars, plenty of food on the table, any toy their hearts desire. Anything. And do you know what my kids said when I asked them what they wanted for Christmas this year?" The man asked, blowing smoke out his nose.
"No." Gabriel replied, turning his head to look at the man.
"All they wanted was a vacation with me. They said it didn't matter what we did, we could stay home for all they cared. But they wanted me with them for a whole week straight. No work, no phone calls, no notes telling them how much I loved them. They could have anything their hearts desire and all they wanted was to spend time with me." The man said softly, his eyes welling up with tears. "Kinda puts everything into perspective doesn't it?"
"Yeah." Gabriel agreed, peering at the man intently.
Leaning back into his seat, the man continued, "I realized that I was working so hard to provide my children with the best life that I kinda pushed them away from me. I realized that I missed all those precious moments most parents get too enjoy. My oldest, Mark, he'll be thirteen next month, has played in the same little league for four years. I've yet ever seen him play a game. I was always busy with work. Four years and I never once made the time to watch him hit his first homer."
Something about this man intrigued him; he turned his chair so he was facing the man and asked, "Did he forgive you?"
"Of course." The man replied. "But I haven't forgiven myself. Or the times I missed my little girl play the piano or speak in the school play. That's the hard part you know. Getting forgiveness from others is easy. Getting forgiveness from yourself is the hard part."
The man continued, "When they told me what they wanted for Christmas, I realized this. Two weeks later, here we are. At least I can give them something they really want this year. I never thought they would want me."
"You're a good father." Gabriel said enviously. He surprised himself with that. He had never wanted kids, hadn't even thought about having them until this very moment.
"No." The man disagreed. "But I'm trying. And isn't that the only thing we can do. Try to make up for past mistakes, learn from them and become better people."
"In an ideal world." Gabriel intoned.
"That's our job isn't it? Try to make a life better for our kids." The man said with a smile. "And when I think back to all the things I've missed, it makes me want to be there in the future for them. After all, none of us know when this will all be over. A car wreck, a heart attack, some kind of freaky accident and boom," The man said, clapping his hand together. "All this is gone. Suddenly your kids are all alone and the only comfort they have is what you've left them with. When I die, I don't want my kids wondering what kind of person I am. I want them to cherish and appreciate all the time we've got to spend together while I was here."
Gabriel had to turn his head to hide the tears snaking down his cheeks. All his anger slipped away, melting as if god dumped water on his aching soul. Somehow a stranger had pierced to the heart of the matter and stripped him clean.
"You see. I can't make up for the lost time. And I hope they'll forget what an asshole I was and only remember me with kindness and love. Cause frankly, my situation could've gone a lot different if you think about it." The man said dramatically, taking a huge drag off his cigarette. "I could've died and they would always wonder if I truly loved them. And I can hope that I shower them with enough love now that all that will be forgotten."
Gabriel turned back towards the man and stated, "But you'll never forget."
The man shook his head sadly. "Sometimes you can't forget the stupid shit. The only thing you can do is not repeat it in the future and move on."
Gabriel sprung to his feet and gripped the man's hand tightly, "Thank you. And I wish you nothing but the best with your kids."
"Thank you." The man said simply.
Gabriel turned and almost ran through the crowd. Where once his heart was empty and cold, a fire started to burn within him. Gabriel's revolution had begun, albeit a blind one, but it had begun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Lance asked, his brow creased with worry.
"Yes. I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Jc answered, caressing his lover's cheek tenderly.
Lance bit on his lower lip and asked, "You don't think it's too fast?"
Laughing softly, Jc shook his head, "I've loved you for years Mr. Bass. This isn't like we just met yesterday you know."
"I know." The southerner agreed but added, "But we haven't even tried being a couple. How do we know it'll work out?"
"Baby. We've been a couple ever since St. Louis. A couple without the sex. All we're doing is completing the circle." Jc said tenderly, smiling.
"I don't know..."
"Do you love me?" He asked sharply.
"Of course. More than anything." Lance replied immediately.
"And don't you want us to be together?"
"Yes."
"Well so do I." Jc said seriously. "But I won't go hiding things any longer. We've spent too much time hiding and I won't do it anymore."
Lance shook his head, "Don't do this on my account."
"This isn't for you baby." Jc stated emphatically. "This is for me. I won't hide from myself any longer."
Lance started to smile, a tear falling down his cheek. Instead of speaking, he pulled his lover close and kissed him passionately. Tenderly at first, them more wildly as lust overcame them.
Jc pushed Lance down on the floor and straddled him. Pinning the blonde's hands down, he started kissing him deeply. Lance groaned in the back of his throat and starting thrusting wildly into Jc's taunt body. Jc returned with a thrust of his own, his body on fire with desire.
Lance broke free from his grasp and grabbed him tightly, sticking his hands in Jc's pants pockets. He pulled the brunet even closer to him, reveling in the heat emanating from his body.
"God I love you." Jc moaned in between sucking on his neck and ear.
"I want you now." Lance growled, pulling on Jc's shirt with wild abandoned.
Jc stood up, pulling Lance to his feet in the process. They started undressing each other, pulling and ripping at one another's clothes until they were naked in the center of the room. Jc looked down and took in the sight of his lover. A wicked grin broke out on his face as he saw the object of his desire. With growl, he shoved Lance on the couch, a giggle escaping the blonde's lips as he fell into the sofa. In a fluid motion, Jc dropped to his knees and swallowed Lance's erection completely, ignoring the gagging feeling in the back of his throat.
"Jc--don't stop please." Lance moaned, his head thrashing back and forth in ecstasy.
Jc replied by massaging the southerner's inner thigh lightly, a gesture he knew would drive his lover wild. Using just his mouth, he repeatedly swallowed the throbbing member, his hands free to touch and caress. Rubbing his hand lightly over the taunt stomach, he continued massaging the inside of Lance's thigh.
Lance was in heaven, his arms thrown back over his head, allowing Jc to have his way with him. He had completely given over to Jc, trusting in his love that Jc would never hurt him. When he could have a complete thought, he realized this is what he had been missing.
All those nameless guys he fucked, all those pretty mouths he came across, none of them could compare to the way he was feeling at this moment. What Jc lacked in talent, he more than made up for it with love. He could feel a connection to the brunet that not one of those one night stands could ever compete with. If he died at that moment, his life would be complete. Then all rational thought went out the window when Jc pushed his fingers inside him. All that was left was a brilliant light, a manifestation of their love.
"Oh Jc, I can't last. I'm gonna cum." Lance moaned, trying to warn his lover.
Jc sped up his manipulations, shoving another finger deep inside his lover. He could feel Lance's approaching orgasm as his muscles clench together, his genitals drawing close to his body. Then from the release as Lance erupted in his mouth.
"Jc..."
Jc continued to lick the fading erection, trying to give optimum pleasure as Lance regained his composure. His chest was heaving and sweat had broken out on his forehead. On his face was a smile of contentment. With one hand he gently caressed Jc's head, murmuring something Jc couldn't hear.
After a few moments, Lance whispered, "I want you inside me."
Jc leaned up and kissed his lovers lips, even as he pulled Lance's legs over his head. Resting the blonde's ankles on his shoulders, Jc guided himself inside his lover gently.
Lance answered with a grunt, a serious expression on his face as he said, "Slowly. It's been a while."
"Let me know." Jc whispered, bending down to kiss him.
Jc waited patiently, content at the feeling coursing through his body. They were one, complete, joined in a way that only lovers understand. It didn't matter if they were both guys, it didn't matter what other people might think of them. All that mattered was the loved they felt and the closeness they shared.
When Lance started rocking gently against him, Jc started to thrust slowly, methodically making love. Neither was in a hurry to end this, they both enjoyed the slow pace Jc had set. Lance had gripped him tightly, one hand one either cheek, pulling him in tightly, urging him to go deeper with every thrust, rocking his hips to get maximum pleasure. Jc was concentrating, his face a mixture of pleasure and pain as he steadied himself. Both were sweating fiercely, both staring at one another's eyes, neither wishing for this moment to end.
But as Jc approached the end, his body took over and he began to thrust faster and faster into Lance. Their bodies making a slapping sound as the pace increased. Lance reached over and started playing with himself, his hand almost a blur as Jc banged against him.
Suddenly Jc stopped, his body trembling and his eyes rolled back into his head as he exploded with a yell. Lance was right behind, his body tingling from the love Jc gave him. Jc collapsed, kissing Lance tenderly as they both came down from the orgasm. Lance locked his legs around Jc's waist and pulled him close.
"I love you." Lance whispered.
"I love you more." Came the tired reply.
Two hours later they woke, still in the same position. Both smiling at the love they shared, both content at what they had too do.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I think everyone's gone crazy." Joey declared, flopping down on the couch with a grunt. "First Lance comes out to everyone. Then Lance and Jc are a couple. And I don't care what that little prick says, I know what I saw last night, drunk or not."
Chris opened a bottle of water and took a long drink before saying, "Maybe you're right. If you are, then we're the only two straight ones left."
Joey opened one eye and peered at his friend, "If that's the case, then one by one we're all going to turn gay. Five hundred bucks says you'll turn gay before I do." The multi-colored hair boy stated with a grin.
"You're on chubby." Chris offered his hand out. They shook on it before lying down on separate couches. They had a few hours before show time and it wouldn't hurt to catch a few z's in that time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Justin paced back in forth in his hotel room, a frown creasing his forehead. Every so often he would mutter something softly to himself and sigh loudly afterwards. To say he was having a crisis of faith would be an understatement. Never in his life had he felt so torn inside.
On one side, his calculating mind cautioned him to back away from Gabriel. Not to get too involved with someone like that. A professional liar that was what the blonde was. Someone with more secrets then even he carried around. But...
But the other side, his yearning heart bid him to throw caution to the wind and embrace Gabriel and cling to him. Never in his life did he feel so alive like he did in Gabriel's arms. Like someone else was in control, that's how he felt around the enigmatic blonde. Childlike, free, flying, like a bad case of vertigo he had no control over his movements. He found himself doing and saying things that weren't just out of character but things he never even thought about saying in the first place. Gabriel was like a drug, searing and overpowering but yet fragile and understanding, like a god with a child's mentality. Power without knowledge, fire without heat, an abstract of how someone should be, a skewed, nominal.
"Fuck." Justin screamed, kicking out blindly at the couch. He sat down in a chair, his head lowered, resting in his hands. Maybe this was something he couldn't think his way through. Maybe to achieve was to trust blindly to luck and jump off the cliff.
What was the old adage his mother was always quoting? `A life lived on the hinge of what if is no life at all.' That makes sense Justin groaned silently. Sometimes he wished parent's came with owner's manuals. It would make things a lot easier for the kids.
Leaning back, he rested his head on the back of the chair, his eyes closed in meditation. His brow was furrowed and he was absently biting on the inside of his cheek as he thought.
He wasn't even out to anyone but Jc and Lance. While technically Gabriel knew he wasn't straight but he didn't count, after all Gabriel couldn't admit it to anyone anyway. And he didn't know if he was straight or if Gabriel was just an exception to the rule. Too many questions were running through the singers mind, he couldn't isolate any solution; too many answers were jumbled together, blurring up his logic and confusing him more.
He moved slightly and winced. His body was still a bit sore from the late night with Gabriel and early morning exercises. He pulled out two pills from his pants pocket and toyed with them in his hand for a moment before popping them in his mouth. Todd had made a few more comments when Justin went back to him today for more pain pills. Justin had to almost fight off the dancer before he got out of the trailer with only the pills in his hand.
Briefly he felt a moment of hesitancy when the pills were in his hand but it wasn't like he was abusing them. It was only twice, no cause to be alarmed yet. After all, when he left in the morning, he wouldn't need the pills anymore for a while. Not unless he met another Gabriel in Orlando. That thought caused him to giggle and he stretched loudly. The lack of sleep the previous night was catching up to him. Standing up, he walked into the bedroom and stretch out on the bed. Might as well get a few hours sleep before tonight. Give my body a chance to recuperate. Justin fell asleep almost immediately, his troubles forgotten for the moment. There was always time to worry about Gabriel.
TBC
Author's notes: I can be emailed at Wolfflyer26@Yahoo.com for any questions or comments regarding Blind Revolution. Emails welcomed and horded greedily.
Copyright 2002 Glacier Boy