Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction, not meant to imply anything about *N Sync because I don't know them or who they prefer to sleep with. If you are under age or it is illegal where you live to read about homosexual situations, please leave. If you find reading about gay men disagreeable, please leave. It's really that simple.
Hi ya'll! Thanks for the feedback, guys! I haven't written Chapter 5 yet, but I'm working on it right now actually. One thing, I'm a member of the fantastic *NSyncslash mailing list and yesterday an email was sent to the list that was incredibly disturbing. I'm sure most of ya'll know *NSyncGrrl and her incredible stories, but someone emailed her a hateful message in which she stated that although she didn't read any of *NSyncGrrl's stories, she found them distasteful and she was going to start a sight to stop slash. Getting to the point, Fluttergirl has created a "Support Slash" Message Board that you can access through her website. (http://www.geocities.com/fluttergoth) It's for slash authors to post mail sent to them and their opinions, etc... Check it out and let loose. :) Thanks everyone. nsajscgirl@yahoo.com
Prisoner of Love Chapter 4
**Emptiness and darkness surrounded him. A dim light added a little illumination to the room, but it was mostly the cold darkness that kept him company. Mist swirled around his feet as he waited for what he knew was to come. He didn't have to wait long. A figure appeared, tall and slender. The man's features were obscured in the darkness, but Lance knew without a doubt who those features belonged to. Piercing blue eyes sparkled in the dim light, watched him closely and Lance waited nervously for what he knew would happen next. Silence grew between the two men and Lance's tension mounted with every second that passed. He shouldn't have been nervous; he knew exactly how this nightmare would play out. He'd been having the same dream for the past year. Lance had tried countless times to consciously change what happened in the dream but to no avail. They were always the same and Lance could never control his reaction or the outcome.
"Lance?" JC's silky voice penetrated the silence momentarily, seductive and soft. Lance couldn't stop the shiver of fear that raced up his spine. Slowly, JC's arm rose from his side and Lance immediately recognized what JC held in his right hand. The gun glistened in the weak light, its barrel pointing straight at him, and Lance's heart jumped with alarm. He heard himself saying the words that never varied from dream to dream.
"JC?" JC's azure eyes were intent, focused on Lance. The gun wavered slightly in the air and Lance frowned. "What the hell are you doing?" Somehow, despite the fact that his heart was thumping and his hands were sweating, Lance managed to sound disapproving. JC's stern face slowly melted and confusion and pain flashed across his face before he grinned shyly at Lance, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Lance slowly relaxed, still unsure about what JC was thinking. He returned the grin cautiously but lost the smile when he saw JC's eyes flicker to something behind him. JC still held the gun in hand, pointed towards Lance. Lance's immediate reaction was to turn around and he acted on the impulse. His eyes opened in horror as he took in the sight before him.
Meredith Stone was walking slowly towards him, a slight smile on her pale face. Her dark hair stuck out at odd angles and Lance's first thought was that she looked like Mrs. Frankenstein without the odd strip of white down the side. She was wearing a virginal white gown, but the maroon red bloodstain that was growing at the center of her torso marred the perfect dress. She gracefully raised a pale hand towards Lance, and he could see her mouth his name but he didn't hear anything. Meredith stepped closer to Lance and his breath hitched, coming out of his throat as a choked sob. She raised a pale hand and placed it on his forearm; the cold, clammy touch of her skin on his made Lance want to scream.
A shot rang out suddenly and Lance jumped instinctively, whirling to face JC. He heard the thump of Meredith's body hitting the ground and knew without a doubt that if he turned around she'd be lying at his feet in a pool of blood. A thin wisp of smoke drifted up from the gun barrel and Lance heard a hideous laugh escape JC's mouth. He watched in horror as JC laughed delightedly, throwing his head back in amusement before breaking off the laugh abruptly and staring at Lance with cold, unfeeling eyes.
"JC, please?" Lance begged. JC simply shook his head and tightened his grip on the gun. Lance couldn't move; he couldn't run. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees in supplication, "Please, JC! Please, don't!" Lance shivered as he felt the cold barrel against his temple, pressing forcefully into the vulnerable flesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw JC's hand tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. JC pushed the gun against his head and pulled the trigger...**
Lance shot straight up from his bed. A loud pounding caused him to look around the room frantically until he realized that he was the source of the disturbing sound. His heart was thundering in his chest. He took a deep breath and looked around his room. He was safe in his own bed. Lance knew he had just had another nightmare. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. His sheets were soaking wet beneath him and his comforter was twisted around his feet at the foot of the bed. He shivered in spite of the drying sweat and pulled the cover up and over himself, burrowing into its depths. Lance closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing.
The nightmares were as familiar to him as his own reality and Lance berated himself mentally. It had been more than a year since JC had killed Meredith and he was still dreaming about it. Lance knew the dreams from beginning to end, but they never failed to terrify him. He peaked out of the covers to glance at the clock beside his bed. The bright red numbers told him that it was only two-thirty in the morning. He sighed heavily and pulled his legs up, curling up beneath the heavy comforter. Eventually, his breathing evened out and another sigh escaped his open lips before he fell asleep once more. *****
The annoying hum of his alarm clock woke Lance up bright and early that same morning. He wearily threw off his cover and slapped at the alarm, silencing the buzz. It took him a couple of minutes to fully wake up but once he shook the sleep out of his tired green eyes, he pushed himself out of bed. His mind was on autopilot as he got ready for his day. After a quick shower, he wiped the moisture from the large mirror in his bathroom, studying himself in the reflection. Harsh lines filled his face as Lance frowned at himself. Outwardly, only one thing about Lance's appearance had changed since his life was changed a little more than a year ago. Lance's eyes had become icy and cold. The orbs of green-gold were emotionless and harsh in the bright lights above the mirror.
He turned from his reflection and ignored the revealing mirror as he went about getting ready for work. He dressed quickly in a dark suit and moved into his impressive kitchen. Once the timer on the coffeepot sounded, Lance reached for a mug and filled the cup to the brim. Without looking, Lance reached over the counter to flip on the TV that sat on the marble counter. The smiling face of a local news anchor blinked to life on the television screen and Lance listened with half an ear as he started to fix a simple breakfast. The emptiness and loneliness of the house didn't bother him as much as it used to. That's what he told himself at times like this, when he had just gotten up and the house was cold and bare. After the trial, Lance had completely pulled away from the other guys. He hadn't seen or heard from any of them during the past six months and he refused to let himself miss their company. He refused to think about them at all. Eventually, he had become accustomed to the silence and solitude.
The sudden ring of his telephone broke through the noise of the television and made him jump slightly. Lance moved fluidly towards the glass kitchen table and picked up the phone that sat on its smooth surface. While he clicked on the phone, he moved back towards the counter.
"Hello?" Lance asked as he buttered the darkened pieces of toast that popped out of the toaster, the phone cradled in the crook of his shoulder.
"Lance?" a soft voice questioned. Lance was shocked into silence once he recognized the familiar voice on the other end.
"Hello, Justin." Lance said once he regained his voice. He purposefully kept his voice cold and harsh, hoping to scare Justin off.
"Um, hi...how are you doing, Lance?"
"Fine. Why are you calling?" Lance asked abruptly.
"Oh, well...I was actually calling to ask you what you were going to be doing today," Justin said hesitantly. Lance snorted into the phone.
"You want to know what I'm doing today?" he repeated, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Yeah, I thought maybe we could go out to lunch. I know it's been a long time since we talked and..."
"Look, Justin...no offence...but I don't want to have lunch with you or Joey or Chris and I'm sure as hell not going visit JC in prison for lunch. Leave me alone!" Lance bit out. He felt hot anger swirling in the pit of his stomach before he pulled the phone away from his ear and punched the talk button, effectively ending the conversation. Lance slammed the phone onto the counter before picking up his toast and car keys. He stalked out of the door and hit the button for the garage door. Once his SUV was warmed up sufficiently, he punched the gas and sped out of his driveway. He was in a shitty mood and it wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning. /`This is not going to be a good day,'/ Lance thought to himself as he edged into the flow of heavy traffic surrounding Orlando. *****
He had been right about the day. It quickly turned into the day from hell. He was late pulling into the parking lot of Townsend Entertainment Corporation's corporate building and he sprinted from his car to the building in record time. The morning had warmed up quickly during the time it had taken Lance to drive to work, and a light sheen of sweat covered his brow as he pushed open the large glass door and stepped into the air-conditioned lobby of TEC. The lobby was fairly empty and Wendy, the receptionist, simply raised her eyebrows at him, letting him know that he was late. He shot her a cold look and walked calmly towards the elevators. Lance took deep breaths to slow his breathing down and adjusted the tie around his neck that seemed to have a mind of its own. As he waited for the elevator to open, Lance tapped his foot against the floor impatiently.
George was going to be pissed. Lance had already missed the morning's required meeting and he was going to be late for an appointment with one of his clients. As he waited for the elevator, he questioned his decision to stay in the music industry. After the group had broken up, Lance disbanded FreeLance Entertainment and made a vow to never return to the entertainment business. The vow he made was quickly broken when George Townsend offered him a job that he couldn't refuse. The pay was excellent and whether he liked to admit it or not, he enjoyed managing up and coming artists. Lance had been nervous and apprehensive at first because he wasn't sure how others in the industry would look at him. After calling his first few contacts, Lance's fears were quickly erased and he found that to his relief, the music world wouldn't hold him accountable for JC's actions.
The ding of the elevator brought Lance back to reality and he rushed forward after glancing at his watch. The minute he stepped onto his office floor Shelly, his assistant, bombarded Lance. She filled him in on what he missed during the daily morning meeting and told him that Christian Hartford, Lance's client, was waiting rather impatiently in his office. He thanked her abruptly before striding down the hall towards his office. He paused for a moment before turning back to Shelly.
"One thing...Is George pissed?" he asked cautiously. She nodded briskly, a tiny smile evident at the corner of her mouth. "Shit," Lance cursed beneath his breath as he continued his trek down the hallway. He paused in front of his closed door and took a deep breath before placing his hand on the knob and twisting it open. He stepped into the office confidently. *****
Lance breathed a sigh of relief the minute he saw the small hands of his watch reached noon. He stood from his desk and stretched his back with infinite pleasure, bones popping and creaking in protest. He had been scouring over contracts and schedules all morning long and was completely ready for his lunch break. Car keys in hand, Lance moved to the door and quickly exited the building. His meeting with Hartford hadn't gone well at all. Ideas for Christian's debut album were thrown back and forth but Lance ultimately felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall. Never had he managed such an opinionated and stubborn artist. Hartford's cocky attitude quickly angered Lance and he had to restrain himself several times from biting the young singer's head off.
Later, George had cornered him, demanding an explanation for Lance's tardiness. He could only offer the excuse of Orlando's horrific traffic and George eased up slightly. However, it didn't prevent George from giving Lance a lecture that he found incredibly childish. Lance was never purposefully late and he didn't appreciate George assuming that wasn't the case. Of course, he wouldn't tell George that; he fully intended to keep his job. Lance had simply nodded his head and murmured an agreement every time George paused to take a breath. After Townsend left him alone, Lance asked Shelly for all of his clients' files and he had spent the rest of the morning studying them.
He had a one o'clock appointment with another of his clients so he had to make sure to take a quick lunch break. As he stepped outside into the brilliant Florida sun, he had to blink several times to clear his vision. Once he was sure he wouldn't run into anything, Lance walked into the parking lot and located his car. He hopped in the SUV and pulled out of the lot, headed towards his usual lunch restaurant. *****
JC's initial excitement at finding the car Lou Monticelli promised him wore off quickly when he couldn't find the keys. He stood in the parking lot of the gas station, full of disbelief that he had gotten that far to no avail. His heart started to thump with panic and he shut his eyes tightly. Opening his eyes, JC quickly squashed the feeling of despair that was welling up inside of him and started searching every nook and cranny of the car to find the missing keys. Kneeling on his hands and knees on the hot pavement, he tried to remember every little thing he had told Anthony to tell his uncle. JC had requested that a nondescript brown car be placed in the parking lot of the local BP station and it was there. He had also asked Lou to leave the keys on the ground beside the front left tire beneath the car. His hand patted the ground almost frantically and he groaned when his fingers found nothing but hot cement.
"Shit!" he cursed loudly, looking around the service station warily. His blue eyes widened in fear once he spotted the gas station attendant standing in the doorway of the store. JC ducked his head and took a deep breath. He berated himself silently for calling attention to his actions. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and raised his head, turning back to the car to kind the keys. `Maybe Lou dropped the keys beside one of the other tires.' With a rising sense of hope, JC moved around the car, searching behind each of the tires. He started with the rear left tire and came up empty handed. Walking around behind the car, he stooped to root around for the keys...nothing. Slowly he moved to the front right tire, hoping beyond hope that the keys were there. He took a deep breath before kneeling beside the tire. With his right hand braced against the ground, he leaded into the side of the car and slid his hand behind the tire. A relieved and grateful sigh escaped his lips when his slim fingers grazed a metal keyring.
JC rose quickly and moved around the front of the brown car, grasping the keys tightly in his left hand. With a heartfelt sigh, JC slid the key into the lock and opened the car door. He quickly threw his prison jacket into the car and reached behind the front seat to grab the bag of clothes he had also requested from Lou. He had planned on using the gas station bathroom, but the attendant was still watching him curiously and JC knew he didn't want to keep the man's attention. He realized that he'd have to get rid of the car sooner than he'd originally planned. The gas station employee would undoubtedly be questioned once the warden discovered that he had escaped and the car would quickly become a liability he couldn't afford. He threw the bag into the passenger seat and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door closed loudly. Without hesitation, JC turned the car on, put it in gear, and drove out of the parking lot slowly.
He drove around the area cautiously, keeping an eye out for suitable gas stations and police cars. It didn't take him long to find a gas station that he thought would work. The restrooms were outside and he hoped they were unlocked. JC pulled into the station, slowing the car to a stop near the men's restroom door. He watched his surroundings warily for several minutes before turning off the car and opening the door. He grabbed the duffel bag from the passenger's seat and walked slowly towards the bathroom. Just as he was about to reach for the door handle, a middle-aged man pushed the door open and stepped out into the sunshine. JC jumped in surprise and hurriedly backed away from the man. He clutched the bag tightly to his chest.
"Take it easy, man!" the guy exclaimed with a grin on his face. JC just nodded, unable to return the man's smile. "Sorry `bout that." The guy moved past JC and walked towards his car, glancing back at JC in amusement. JC stared after the man for a few precious minutes before shaking himself mentally. JC frowned in thought. He hadn't done such a good job so far in keeping himself away from people and out of unwanted attention.
"'S okay," JC mumbled after the guy as he moved into the now empty bathroom. The bathroom smelled strongly of urine and sweat. JC wrinkled his nose in reaction to the stench and looked around the small room. The floor was wet and marked with dirty footprints. JC carefully locked the door shut behind him and balanced the duffel bag carefully on the sink. The mirror had a thin film covering it and JC grabbed a paper towel out of the dispenser and wiped at the glass, hoping to clean it up a little. His harsh reflection stared back at him, tired and weary. His blue eyes were huge and unsure. Stubble graced his jaw and chin, giving him a scraggly look. He quickly turned from his reflection, unhappy with what he saw. JC unzipped the bag and started pulling out its contents.
First were the clothes he had asked Lou to provide him: a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, a pair of new black and white sneakers, and a black baseball hat. He quickly stripped out of the rest of his prison uniform and pulled on the jeans and T-shirt. He hopped on one leg while he pulled on one shoe and switched to the other foot to pull on the second shoe. JC tugged the baseball cap over his short, dark hair and looked at himself in the mirror again. With the baseball cap obscuring his forehead and his eyes, JC thought that maybe it would be harder for people to recognize him.
`Who the hell am I kidding?' JC asked himself as he stared at his reflection. 'Just because that man didn't recognize me doesn't mean a teenage girl won't.' He shook his head and looked back down at the bag. There was a thick manila envelope lying on top of a square, steel box. The envelope contained several things, including a map of Florida. The route he was suppose to follow was marked clearly on the map and there was a set of written directions to his final destination. JC recognized the handwriting on the directions immediately...the sprawling script belonged to Justin Timberlake; it was, after all, one of Justin's houses that he planned on using. The minute JC told Justin what he was planning, Justin insisted that JC use his cabin in the depths of one of Florida's swamps. JC was reluctant to pull Justin into the plan any further than he had to, but he had to admit that it was an amazingly good idea. The cabin was isolated and Justin only used it once a year. There was also another set of directions and JC ran his hand over them, a grim smile crossing his face. He placed the second set of directions in his front right pocket and continued looking through the envelope.
There was a smaller envelope in the manila folder that contained $10,000 in cash and a fake ID in the name of Thomas Alderman. He put the money and the ID in his back pocket and made a mental note to buy a wallet soon. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to use the fake ID, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The box beneath the manila envelope held a .45 caliber automatic pistol and a box of shells. He desperately hoped that he wouldn't have to use the gun, but once again, he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. JC had hesitated when he requested the gun from Lou, but it didn't take him long to make up his mind. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to use it, but it was almost reassuring, gleaming up at him from the plush mattress of crushed velvet.
The bang of a fist on the steel door startled him so much that he dropped the open gun case and the gun clattered to the floor. The sound ricocheted off the walls, causing JC to cringe. He quickly bent over to pick up the gun. As the person outside continued to pound on the door, JC stuffed the gun, envelope, and dirty clothes back into the duffel bag. He zipped it up, cursing under his breath when the zipper got caught on his prison jacket.
"Come on, dammit! You've been in there too long! I need the bathroom!" a man's voice shouted through the door. Without taking the time to zip the bag closed, JC gathered it against his chest, pulled his baseball cap low over his brow, and swung the door open. He avoided eye contact with the impatient man as he slinked past him. "'Bout damn time!" the guy said under his voice, but loud enough for JC to hear.
JC mumbled an apology and hurried to his car. With a tremendous sigh, he slid into the front seat, throwing the duffel bag into the seat next to him. He slammed the door closed behind him and took a second to slow his pounding heart. JC wrapped his arms around the top of the steering wheel and rested his head on them. He hadn't been free for more than an hour and he had already gained the unwanted attention of three different people. At this rate, it'd only take the police a couple of hours to catch up with him. Thrusting the frightening thought of the police aside, JC straightened up in the seat and turned on the car. With a small smile on his face, he reached out his right hand and turned on the radio. `Fuck you, Belmont,' JC thought with satisfaction as he found a jazz station and turned it up as loud as he could bear.
Before pulling out of the gas station, JC pulled out the second set of directions out of his pocket and studied them carefully. It was amazingly convenient for JC that Lance always kept the same schedule every day. Justin had thought JC was crazy for wanting to seek Lance out the second he escaped. Justin seriously thought that Lance would turn him back in to the police and JC had his concerns about that as well, but he was positive that he could convince Lance to listen to him. JC had asked Justin to find out Lance's daily schedule...hoping to find someway that he could contact Lance. He was relieved when Justin told him that Lance left the office every night at 5:30, a little after the usual five o'clock crowd. The directions in his hands were to TEC's corporate building and with a glance at the clock on the dashboard, JC knew that he had plenty of time to get there before Lance left for the day. He had no idea what he would say to the younger man when he saw him, but he was going to make Lance listen to him, no matter what. He hadn't put his life on the line to give up the minute he would be faced with Lance. Doubts about Lance's thoughts and feelings filled JC's mind as he set the directions in the passenger's seat and put the car in gear. Humming along with Ella Fitzgerald, JC drove out of the gas station, rehearsing in his mind what he hoped to say to Lance.
** That's that. Believe me, Lance will warm up...JC can be very persuasive. ;) Don't forget to email me with feedback! Robin nsajscgirl@yahoo.com