********** DISCLAIMER: This story is not real, aka: "FICTION". I don't know *NSync, nor do I know their sexual preferences. If you believe that one of them is gonna marry you someday, why are you here?
Thanks to Kenitra of "Millennium Love" for giving the format of this story. And, thanks go out to the nsyncslash list. Feedback to reader_colleen@hotmail.com, please.
The chapter title and lyrics come from a song by Jimmy Buffett. **********
Scarce Heard Amid The Guns Below Remittance Man- CHRIS POV By Colleen
Six months now. It's been six months since I left. I drop Lance a postcard every now and then, just letting him know that I'm still alive. As if he cares by this point. He's probably furious at me for just taking off like that, and I don't really blame him. I just wish he understood how hard it was for me. How hard it still is. These last six months were supposed to help me, not make me feel worse. But I do feel worse. Last time I talked to Lance, he said Josh was spending a lot of time with Justin, who's not exactly the president of my fan club. And Lance was scared that Josh was going to start believing some of the stuff Justin is saying. He didn't elaborate, but I can imagine.
For six months, all I've had is my imagination. I can imagine Josh is here with me, telling me everything's OK, but I always wake up and it all comes crashing back. And I end up crying. I never realized a human being could cry so much. It seems all I do is cry these days. When I'm not crying, I'm working. I actually found a job, working in a psychologist's office. Yeah, it's as a secretary, but it's great. For five or six hours a day, I can concentrate on other people's problems and forget my own. At least until I go home, to the apartment that I found not far from the office. My boss helped me find it, actually.
My boss has been fantastic to me. He's almost my therapist these days. To him, I'm Alan Kirk (how original, I know), but he knows some of it. He knows I broke up with my boyfriend, and it was very messy. I can talk to him about so many things, but he's not Josh. I want Josh, and yet I know I can never have him the same way we were. And that hurts.
My life here has been anything but dull, though, despite my little bouts of self-guilt and depression. I've been asked out on a few dates, but I always turn them down. I can't date anyone- it seems like I'm betraying Josh somehow. Even though we've broken up, I still feel like I belong to him. I don't know what I'd do if I found out that Josh had a boyfriend. Break down and cry, probably. It would be so hard for me to accept that he's moved on and I haven't. But somehow, I know he won't find someone else. He's been hurt too much to trust anyone ever again. I know I've caused that, and the thought almost makes me cry. The knowledge that I've destroyed someone so completely drives a knife into my gut. And twists it.
The phone at the front desk rings, breaking me out of my thoughts and bringing me back to the office. I answer it, trying to sound professional.
"Good morning, how may I help you?"
"Chris?" Oh, my God. It's Lance. I drop the phone in shock. One of the patients in the waiting room looks at me oddly, so I quickly pick up the phone again.
"How..."
"Alan Kirk?" is all he says and I grimice.
"It worked for a while, anyway."
"Come home," he begs me.
"Lance, I can't. I can't face Josh right now..."
"Chris, it's been SIX FUCKING MONTHS!" I don't think I've ever heard Lance so angry. I'm not sure I like this.
"I know, but have you ever cheated on someone before?"
"No," he admits.
"Then you can't understand. Trust me, Lance. I can't face Josh."
"You don't have to face him, Chris..." Lance's voice is so sad that my heart breaks for what seems like the thousandth time.
"Oh, Lance..." is all I say before I see the doctor come out of his office, wondering what exactly is going on. He raises an eyebrow at me and I nod, understanding what he's saying even though no verbal words are exchanged. "Lance, I have to go. Just forget you found me, OK? Forget about me and go on with your life. Help Josh get on with his. Please, Lance... forget me."
"I can't," he says before I hang up, not wanting to hear his sad voice anymore. I don't even notice the tears running down my face, but the doctor does.
"Alan?" he says to me, concerned. I swallow heavily and take a deep breath.
"I'm fine," I say, trying to convince him.
"Go home, Alan," he says. "You look like hell right now."
"I feel like hell," I confess. "Thank you, sir." Before my voice can fail me, I leave. I can't believe Lance found me. I tried so hard to hide! I guess I didn't hide well enough. I hope he doesn't come up here personally.
It was hard enough talking to him on the phone, never mind seeing him in person. Somehow, I find my way back to my apartment without killing myself or anyone else, and I collapse on the sofa. Lance found me, so I have to move. I have to leave- tonight.
Quickly, I pack my things. The few things I have, anyway- most of it came with the apartment. The last thing to go in my bag is a picture of Josh and me taken about a month before we broke up. We look so happy, and it's the look on his face in that picture that keeps me going. If he's happy, then my world is perfect. When he's upset... well, I don't want to go there.
I have to write letters, I realize suddenly. I need to tell people that I'm leaving, so I grab some paper and a couple of envelopes. The first letter I write is to my boss, saying that I am leaving and I'm very sorry for just vanishing like I have. I offer no explaination, knowing that somehow, he will understand. I seal the envelope and address it, intending to mail it from the airport. I finish packing, and then I hurridly write a note for my landlord, explaining that a family emergency came up and I was leaving. I also say that I am leaving a letter which is to be given to a friend of mine if he shows up. When the letter is done, I put enough money in the envelope to cover three months' rent before sealing it. I write another, shorter note to Lance if he ever does show up here. I write his name on the front and hand them both to the landlord when I see him downstairs. Within half an hour, I'm gone, all traces of my presence in Louisburg vanished.
The plane takes off at sunset, destined for Mississippi. I know it's close to him, but they'd never think to look so close to home. I smile a sad smile before settling back against the seat, waiting for the next chapter of my life to begin.
***** Sinner on the mainland, He's a sinner on the sea. He looks for absolution Not accountability. How many destinations? Oh God he's seen them all. He collects his precious pittance In every port of call.
...Remittance Man, So far away from home, No they'll never understand The Remittance Man.
... And he watches from the fantail As the mainland disappears. Just like the Flying Dutchman, He's a prisoner of his fears. *****