Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. The characters and situations portrayed are by no means meant to offend or be taken as truth. Any similarity to those mentioned is purely coincidental. I do not know of the sexual orientation of any NSYNC members or that of any character mentioned.
Author's Notes: Well, this is it folks - the final chapter in "Superman Can't Fly". Thank you to all those who have sent me feedback, and thank you to all those who have just read the story and enjoyed it. I would just like to thank once again Clive, Tom, Fuzz, Chris, DLS, Mike, and all those who have helped me so much - you're a great bunch of peeps :)
To those I have met writing this story, and have written me with every new installment - swelling my head considerably (thank you, I can no longer leave my room - lol) - big thanks. LOL - I even got a marriage proposal!
Here are some of the great stories I have read on Nifty, it's a small list because I haven't read much, but it's one I stick by :)
"Warmest Eyes" "Lucas and Joey" "NSYNC Saga" "Choices" "Love NSYNC"
=========================== Superman Can't Fly By Dayse ===========================
"They sure are taking their time," JC said, almost to himself. Joey had walked out after Lance nearly twenty minutes ago, and neither man had yet to return.
Justin didn't seem to hear, his eyes were transfixed on Chris. "JC?"
"Think they're arguing?"
"JC.."
"Fuck, I hope they aren't doing anything stupid..."
"JC! Call the doctor, I think Chris is waking up..." Justin's voice was little more than a whisper, as if he was afraid that to talk louder would somehow cause Chris to fall back into his sleep.
Snapping out of his distraction, JC rushed back to Chris' bedside and leaned in eagerly, "Chris? Bro, you hear me?"
But the only response was a slight flutter of Chris' one good eye as it seemed to dart back and forth without really seeing anything.
"Chris?" Justin said, a little louder, "It's me, Justin. Come back to us, man..."
The eye closed once again and Chris was unconscious, JC and Justin slumped back. "Doctor told us he would do that," JC muttered, in a vague attempt to reassure. "It'll be a while before he's fully awake."
With a tired nod, Justin sank into his seat and just continued to watch, his eyes distant, vacant. The silence stretched so long between them that JC actually gave a slight jump when Justin spoke.
"Why did you tell me you wanted Joey?"
JC blinked, "Uh, I - 'cause it's the truth."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really, man. Why? You, uh, got a problem with it?"
Justin thought a moment, his face oddly blank. He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I do. Kinda. But not in the way you're probably thinking." JC could tell that Justin meant what he was saying, but he still got the impression that the other man was not entirely with him in the conversation - but rather that the talk was just a distraction from worrying about Chris. JC could empathize.
Pulling a chair up closer to the other man he prodded gently, "Okay, bro. I'm all ears, what's the problem?"
"You guys are all like brothers to me, ya know? Well, fuck, Josh...it's like walking in on your Goddamn parents or something, I don't know if I wanna see you and Joey getting all freaky in front of me and stuff." Justin bit his lip, looked down at his lap, "Sorry, that sounded harsh. But I'm a little..."
"Don't apologize, you're entitled," JC said, interrupting him. He folded his hands on his lap and shook his head, "And you gotta point, if the situation were reversed...I'd probably feel the same way. Truth is, Just, I don't know what's going to happen." That was the God's honest truth, too. Joey was off somewhere with Lance rather then with him at that very moment. Also, they hadn't even kissed -- the moment having been interrupted. By Lance.
Justin nodded, mostly to himself, and his eyes never drifted from Chris' prone form. He sat slumped in his chair, there were bags under his eyes and he hadn't changed clothes. They were still bloody. "What about Lance? He's... he's got something with Joey too, right?"
Another jolt of insecurity caused JC to glance towards the door, he was tempted to go search for them. "Yeah. Yeah, he does." JC grimaced in guilt. He had known Lance had feelings towards Joey, had known apparently before even Lance himself, but...Lance hadn't done anything about it. If the two of them had already been involved in something, JC never would of made a move, but since they weren't...wasn't it every man for himself? Besides, it wasn't as if Joey hadn't reciprocated, there were obviously feelings from him too.
"This isn't going to be easy for him," Justin was saying. "Lance, I mean. Seeing the two of you together." Then, in quiet voice added, "It's going to be weird. Sorry, man, I got nothing `gainst a person's preferences, but... this just came outta left field, okay? It's going to take some getting use to."
JC silently nodded, feeling that there really wasn't anything more to be said. Truth be told, considering all else that was going on, Justin was taking it rather well. Maybe that would change once things calmed down and he could think without distraction but JC liked to believe he knew him pretty well, and Justin was a good person. He wouldn't do or say anything that wasn't what he believed to be the honest to God truth.
Still, it'd be good if Joey could talk to him, too. Justin had always looked up to Joey, in a weird, big goofy brother sorta way. Even when Joey told a stupid joke that was funny only to him, or tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass, Justin never seemed to stop thinking he was just about the coolest guy in the world.
So where the Hell was he?
It hurt. Lance coughed and felt blood splatter across his hand, it was thick and choking in his throat. Moaning loudly and grimacing with even the slightest of movements, Lance slowly opened his eyes and was momentarily at a loss for where he was. The pain in his back told him that he hadn't been dreaming, it was all too real.
His cheek pressed hard against the cold asphalt and his back straining with a sharp, intense pain, Lance's legs pulled up underneath him into an instinctive fetal position.
"Jo-ey...?" His voice came out as a low, inaudible gurgle. Trying to call again only caused another hard cough and another spray of blood.
He blinked. He gasped. He bled more and more. His jacket felt heavy on top of him, it was soaked through, his legs tingled distantly and it hurt to move them, he shivered from cold. "Joey...help..." God, I'm hurt, Lance closed his eyes. Someone help me, what happened? I'm hurt, I'm hurt...
The sound of feet scraping against pavement and a howl of pain caused Lance's eyes to open again and through the dark edges of his vision he could just make out two figures fighting a few feet away. One of them was Joey, the other was Anthony.
Anthony.
It became clear. He had been kissing Joey, had him backed against a wall, when something hit him hard and quick from behind. There was pain, a very, very bad pain, and then Joey's face was looming over his -- dark and worried. Then everything had gone black.
Now, there they were.
Watching with helpless alarm as Anthony beat Joey's head off the brick wall, a move that should of knocked him unconscious but didn't, (thank God for Joey's thick skull) Lance's hand scraped pavement. He had to get up, he had to help somehow.
Then, in a move that was definitely inspired, Joey uppercut the bastard in the balls. Hard. Lance almost smiled, he cheered silently and it added to his inspiration to try and get up.
Anthony had fallen to the floor grabbing his crotch, but Joey was stumbling as well. He walked as if on a tight-rope towards the same wall he had been pushed against, his hand scrambling for the phone. Lance's breath caught in his throat when Joey picked it up.
Yes, Joey, for God sakes...
Lance's arms grew numb, it was getting colder and colder and he couldn't bring himself to move again. It hurt too much and he was too tired. He slumped down, felt his stomach land in a puddle that could only be his own blood. Like Chris, he thought bleakly, I'm dying like Chris.
As he started to black out again, the last thing Lance saw was Anthony dragging Joey over to the ledge of roof, one hand on his arm, the other on the back of his shirt. He hung him over the edge, and he laughed.
He looked like Lex Luther.
"That's quite a drop, kiddo," Anthony said, a smile in his voice. "Think you'll go splat or crunch?"
God it was hard to stay awake, but Joey managed to mumble an answer. "A little bit of column A, a little bit o'column B..." If I grab him at the right time, and if I push off with my toes, I might be able to take him with me - we'll both die. Splat, crunch. Joey almost giggled. Yes, Joey tiredly decided, fuck you Anthony. FUCK YOU. I'll see you in Hell....
Anthony's mouth was at his ear again, and Joey tried to shift his head away, only to find that it was useless - Anthony only followed his movements. "You wanna know something, Joseph? I never liked you. Not you or your crew. You were a bunch of pussies - singing like girls, thinking you were such hot shit. Sonya was just a part of it, I think I'll like killing you just `cause you're you."
The city looked bright from the roof, the lights blinked prettily against a black backdrop of sky and stars. Headlights from cars rushed over an invisible highway, skyscrapers were dark, shadowy giants. At least Anthony Pazzari's face would not be the last thing he saw before he died.
Sharp teeth dug into his earlobe, and Anthony's voice became soft, almost seductive. "Enough talk," he hushed. "Bye, Joey."
Joey sang. "Bye bye bye..."
As he felt Anthony start to push and let go, he reached up and snagged the other man's sleeve, holding on to it with all his strength and pushing off as hard as he could with his toes...Fuck you, you son of a bitch, Joey thought. Here we go...
They started to go over together. The momentum of Joey's falling body was more then enough to topple Anthony with him and the other man let out a sound of pure terror and anger, his expression was one of pained surprise. This wasn't the way it was suppose to go, he must of been thinking. This wasn't the way...
Joey felt oddly serene, the world turned upside down on him and he could feel a rush of wind run all through his body. He felt weightless - he was floating. Flying. Falling.
Anthony reached for something sturdy to grab onto...and missed.
A face flashed through Joey's mind, clear and focused as if he were standing in front of the person right then, and he closed his eyes...It wasn't a face he had expected to see.
Then, something grabbed his arm, tight. He felt his body rebound off the side of the building as his fall was halted abruptly and his legs dangled heavily with nothing to support them. His foot whipped through a window, breaking the glass and sending shards of it down below.
Snapping his head up in surprise, Joey's eyes widened. "Jesus Christ!" It's a miracle, his muddied mind told him, you fucking lucky bastard, it's a miracle! His arm screamed out in pain, the hand that was clenched around his was like an iron shackle.
"Oh ... " Lance's face was twisted with pain, there were tears of effort running down his face as he held onto Joey with both arms. "Oh...I can't...Joey, I can't hold on..."
Lifting his free arm, Joey tried to grab for the edge, to pull himself up, but it was too hard, he was fading fast...already everything seemed dream-like and light. His fingers didn't work, they slid easily off the slick surface and he couldn't keep his grip.
Anthony screamed most of the way down, there was a crash as his body hit the street. Both men could hear the screams and yells of the people down below. Joey wondered if he had gone splat or crunch.
"Joe..." Lance's voice was a whisper, his hand and Joey's hand were both wet with blood and sweat. "Joey..."
The grip was loosening, both were near passing out. Lance looked down at him at the precise moment Joey looked up and a silent message passed between them. This would be a good time to say goodbye...
With a choked sob of pain and misery, Lance could only reach helplessly out as Joey began to slip from his grasp further until he was holding onto fingers only. God, don't let me drop him, Lance prayed, God, you better listen, don't let me drop him...
Fingertips now...and Joey was starting to fall again...he closed his eyes... he could feel and hear his knuckles pop out of their joints as they now supported all his dead weight. Lance couldn't hold onto him, he was too heavy and Lance was too injured. Die, Joey thought, I'm going to die...Lance let go.
Joey caught his breath, expecting to fall and for a brief terrifying moment he was, but suddenly: there was a new grip. It felt like steel, like life. Joey opened his eyes and he looked up in open mouthed shock for the second time that night. You are a lucky bastard. Luckier then you deserve...
"JC?"
Lance was slumped unconscious or dead over the ledge, his arm hanging down as if still reaching for him, and JC was pulling Joey up slowly, grunting from the effort with both feet planted firmly against the wall for leverage.
"Jesus, Joey...come on, I got ya!"
Gathering together everything he had left, Joey grabbed at the ledge again as he was pulled further up and helped to get himself over onto the roof with a great and final tug, not quite able to stop the cry of agony the effort caused. JC collapsed back, breathing hard from fear and effort and Joey lay next to him, his own heart jack-hammering in his chest.
JC was at his side in a flash, trying to get his attention as Joey's eyes fluttered and blinked rapidly. "Joey? Come on, Supe, speak to me..." His fingers dug hard into Joey's shoulders, he couldn't believe how close he had been - if he had come just a second later then he'd of fallen.
"JC? Lance?" Joey tried to move his arm to gesture, but found he couldn't. JC wiped the blood from his eyes and face, using the back of his sleeve, "How's Lance?"
Moving quickly to his other friend's side, he took his pulse with a shaking hand, held it there for a long time. He looked back down at Joey who was watching him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Phone," Joey managed, he inclined his head, "Get help..."
JC tugged Lance off the side of the roof and placed him back gently on his back. Then he rushed to the phone, but it turned out not to be necessary. The door to the roof burst foreword and several police offers and a white-coated team with a stretcher rushed out towards them.
"Lance...help Lance first," Joey's eyes started to close and he reached up for JC's hand which was taken quickly and held in a firm, steady grip. "Josh..."
"Yeah?" JC leaned in close, he couldn't seem to get rid of the fear, the quake in his stomach. God, Joey, that was so, so close...and Lance, Jesus...what did that bastard do to you two?
With his face mere inches away, Joey used the last of his strength to tilt his head up and kiss him gently on the lips. A stretcher crashed down next to him, Lance's limp body was lifted up onto it and another doctor was trying to pry JC away from Joey's side, but he refused to go.
"Joey?" he prompted softly, tasting blood on his lips. Joey's blood.
"I got the bastard." But there was no satisfaction in his voice, just a soft, reflective sorrow. A final breath of exhaustion escaped his lips before Joey slumped back, his eyes closed with the blissful escape of sleep.
Four Days Later
The funeral procession marched grimly down the Florida street, men and women dressed in dark dresses and suits followed the hearse with their heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them.
It was a good turn out. Friends, family - mourners from as far as New York. Half the people couldn't believe it, the other half were just too caught up in their own misery to care how he had died, just that he had died. Flowers decorated the casket and cars, there was a grimness as heavy in the air as rain. Joey had no idea that he had been as close to as many people as this, that the funeral would be anything like this.
Dressed in his own black suit and carrying a bouquet of yellow roses, Joey walked alone behind the hearse, his steps a dull echo on the street as he marched. There were several people watching from the side-walk, many of which he recognized as fans. But, thankfully, they were being respectful, quiet. Funeral-like. If they had started screaming or asking for autographs, Joey didn't know what he would of done.
The photographers and reporters on the other hand, were merciless. Blubs flashed, news reports babbled nonesense into black, dead-eyed lenses, and Joey could feel that he was being watched.
He ignored it as best he could, continuing his stone-faced march to the graveyard where the casket would be buried.
When they reached it, the wrought iron gates were closed behind them and for a blissful moment, there was peace. No noise was heard except for the gentle fall of footsteps as people got into place around the empty grave. Folding chairs had been set-up, but Joey chose to stand.
He was left alone. And again, Joey was grateful.
Listening half-heartedly as the priest talked, Joey just kept going back to that night on the roof. He had thought he was going to die, had been sure of it. And so...he had decided to take Anthony with him. The issue struggled to resolve itself in his mind. On one hand...Anthony had tried to kill him, had nearly succeeded. But he hadn't. So...was Joey a murderer? The police assured him it was self-defence, but Joey wasn't sure. It didn't FEEL like self-defence, not when he was alive and Anthony was not. Not when he had, moments before Anthony was about to push him, decided that he would kill Anthony too if he could.
And Lance. Joey cast a look at the black, slick coffin; the priest had finished talking and it was starting to lower into the ground. If it hadn't been for Lance and JC, he would certainly of died.
Lance. I'm sorry, Joey thought. I'm so sorry, it's my fault you're...
He was in line, he found himself moving towards the open grave where the coffin had settled before he realized he was doing it. Flowers gripped tightly in hand, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark, non-reflective sunglasses, Joey stood over the grave looking down into its dark, merciless depths. No one would crawl out of there. No one would miraculously open the coffin lid and pop up with a happy smile. No one.
Bringing the roses up to his mouth, Joey kissed the petals lightly and then let the drop into the grave. He watched as they seemed to fall for a very long time. They hit the lid silently.
He closed his eyes, made the sign of the cross, and said a silent prayer for the dead - his lips moving easily over the words.
"Maggio Dio avere pieta' avanti tuo cuore."*
He left.
"Hey Chris -- you look like Wyle E. Coyote!"
"Super geeeenius!"
Chris stuck out his tongue at Justin and JC's smiling faces and raised a weak arm to brush them the finger. "Sure, kick a man when he's down."
Justin reached out and lightly ruffled his hair, making extra sure not to touch any bandages. "I don't think you need anymore of that. Kicking that is."
The room that Chris had been moved to earlier that day was significantly nicer and sunnier then the one he had occupied while in ICU. The whole place was decorated with flowers, cards, balloons, stuffed animals and various other gifts from fans and well wishers. Chris had to admit that when he looked around at all the wild stuff, it made him feel pretty good. It was nice to know that so many people cared.
"You do look better though," JC said. "A lot of the bruising's gone down, and the doctor even said that the cut on your face wouldn't scar."
Chris frowned, touched his stomach lightly. "Yeah, but this one will." Then he shrugged, smiled. "But hey! It'll give me a cool story to tell the hunnies..."
"Yeah, as if everyone in the WORLD doesn't know what happened by now," Justin shook his head in awe. "Jesus Christ, I heard they might even make a movie of the week outta it. How some crazy nut from Joey's past wreaked havoc on the NSYNC group."
"Great, Joey'll just love that." JC rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of Chris' bed. "Speaking of which, where is he anyway?"
"Probably harassing the nurses again," Chris smiled. "God, I'm so glad he's okay. Not to mention Lance. Ouch, I know where he's coming from." His expression grew dark. "I'm glad Anthony, that bastard, is dead, Joey shouldn't feel guilty `bout nothin'. Look at what that creep did to all of us!"
JC sighed. "Of course he's going to feel guilty, man, he killed somebody."
"He did what he had to."
"Try telling him that," JC said. "But he's dealing, we all are." The thing with Anthony was eating at him; even dead the bastard still got to their friend. "Hey, I'm going to visit with Lance for a bit," he smirked at Chris. "I think you've been blessed with enough of my company for now."
Chris made a face and waved him away. "Go, for the love of God go before I have to check into the psyche ward."
"You may want to consider doing that anyway," Justin suggested, blinking innocently.
Chuckling, JC clamped Chris' hand briefly before turning to leave. "You wanna come with, Just?"
"Nah, I'll stick around here for a bit. If I leave, Chris'll miss me." "Like a nail in the head." But Chris couldn't hide his grateful smile and JC left them as they chatted and bantered happily.
It was starting to go back around to normal again, and for that - they were all relieved. After everything that had happened, "normal" had started to seem like an impossible concept.
Making his way down the hall to Lance's room, JC hesitated for the briefest of moments before knocking. At the low `come in', JC entered, sticking his head in first.
"Hey." He smiled a greeting. Lance was sitting up in bed, looking considerably better, with his laptop on his knees.
"Hey," Lance returned. "How's Chris?"
JC nodded, took a seat next to the bed. "He's good. How you doin'? You look good."
A light shrug and Lance traced the pointer on screen with his finger, "I'm better. Still can't drink really cold stuff, or eat solid food without feeling sick, but better."
The two sat silently for a moment, both feeling a little awkward. JC rubbed the back his neck, cleared his throat. "Uh, what are you, uh, doing there? Shouldn't you be taking it easy?" he asked, gesturing towards the laptop.
"This is for Joey," Lance said softly.
JC looked skeptically. "Your big plan again? Isn't it a little too late for that?"
"No." Lance looked darkly at the screen. "He went to that bastard's funeral today, he tell you that? After all that's happened he still feels guilty."
JC nodded slowly. "Yeah, I tried to talk him out of it, but..."
"Doctors gave him the okay so he went." Lance snorted and looked out the window of his room. "I'm starting to think he's a glutton for punishment."
"When it comes to Anthony and that Sonya girl he is," JC said.
"That's exactly why this has to work," Lance nodded towards his laptop screen. "The reason we were getting nowhere with Joey before is because we thought ANTHONY was the problem. He isn't."
"He isn't?" JC said doubtfully.
Lance shook his head. "No, if he was, then Joey wouldn't be so broken up any more. He was just a part of it." As he shifted in bed, he grimaced in pain and offered a weary smile. "Okay, so he was a BIG knife-toting, vengeance- spitting part of the problem, but still only a part."
"I don't get it, Lance." JC smiled. "But then, I never seem to, huh? Look, forget about that for now...I think we need to talk."
Closing his laptop, Lance's expression softened and he nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I guess we do."
"We both seem to want the same thing," JC laughed. "Fuck, who would of thought it would be JOEY, though, right?"
Joining in the laughter, Lance smiled widely. "Yeah, the big-nosed, Superman-loving moron."
"He eats like a maniac."
"He can't walk five steps without knocking something over or stepping on someone's foot."
"He's a silly, silly person and his jokes never make any sense."
"Couldn't articulate in an interview if his life depended on it."
"Only guy in the world that would try to play hide and go seek on a tour bus..."
Lance and JC laughed again, but soon it faded off into distant looks of fondness.
Catching Lance mirroring his own expression, JC shook his head sadly. "We both got it bad, don't we?"
"Yeah. But he's with you, not me." Lance looked away again, his hands clenched tightly on his lap. "Why didn't you tell me you felt the same way about him? Were you afraid that I'd move in before you or something?"
The accusation should of made him angry, but it only added to JC's feelings of guilt. "It sorta came to me all at once," JC said, trying to put sense into his words. "I just.. I looked at him that night, sleeping on the couch, and..." JC's words trailed off, he shrugged haplessly. "I'm sorry, Lance, I wish I could... I wish I could explain it better to you but honestly? That's all I got. I didn't mean to diss you. Do you hate me? Are you mad?"
Lance considered for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "JC, if someone had asked me a few days ago I would of said that Anthony Pazzari was the SECOND person in the world to stab me in the back..." JC flinched as if struck, "but I don't feel that way anymore," Lance continued. "No, I'm not mad. But I have to ask: Do you love him? And I don't mean 'love' as in platonic, if there even is such thing. I mean...love. With a capital 'L'." Lance held his breath, waiting and dreading JC's answer.
JC swallowed, fiddled with his hands, "Yeah, Lance. I - I think I do. And trust me, no one's more surprised at that then I am...I thought it was just a lust/sex thing. That sorta stuff I can deal with...but when I saw him up on that roof, about to fall to his death..." Lance had to strain to hear JC's voice. "I can't imagine him not being around anymore, Scoop, and I can't imagine being able to deal with something like that."
"How did you know we'd be up there, anyway?" Lance asked, trying to keep his own voice calm. "We could of been anywhere."
JC just smiled. "Don't all the great action flicks end on a roof? Good Guy Vs. Bad Guy -- the final showdown?" He shook his head. "Nah, man. I stepped onto the elevator and some punk kid had pressed all the buttons, it opened up on the roof and I saw you hanging off the side. When I rushed up...you were unconscious and Joey was falling."
"Fuck," Lance breathed. "That...that's ..."
"Damn lucky."
"Yeah." Lance's fingers drummed on the surface of his laptop, he gazed out his window. "I love Joey, too. It's...it's gonna be hard to see the two of you together. But I won't do anything to get in the way, I couldn't do that to either of you."
It hurt to see his friend in such obvious pain, a pain that JC knew he had a part in causing, but he knew that he didn't want to give up whatever he had with Joey. If there was still something to be had, that is. A blind man could see that there was obviously something between him and Lance...Lance had been the first person Joey had asked about when he had woken up. Lance had been the first person Joey had asked JC about when he had pulled him from the ledge of the roof.
"Maybe it's me that should stay out of your way," he said softly. "I don't know where I stand with Joey anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious there's something between you." JC met Lance's eyes. "You gonna tell me that nothing happened up there on the roof that night?"
"You mean before or after I was fucking KNIFED?" Lance snapped, but almost immediately regretted the outburst. "Sorry, I didn't mean to blow up on you. You're right...something did happen. But it wasn't Joey's fault, I initiated it. I wish I could tell you I regret it, because I don't want to hurt you - never, ever that - but I don't."
"I can understand that," JC said softly. He closed his eyes tiredly. "God, this whole thing is a mess, isn't it? How did things get so out of control?"
Lance just shook his head. "So what do you want to do?"
"This isn't our decision alone," JC said. "Joey has to make a call."
Letting out a breath, Lance just lay back against his pillows and closed his eyes. "This...I feel like I'm in high-school again, fighting over some girl."
JC smirked. "I wouldn't let Joey here you say that...I don't think he'd appreciate the comparison."
Lance snickered, "No, I guess he wouldn't." Opening his eyes, Lance glanced at JC curiously. "Do you think the funeral is over yet? How do you think it went? Maybe someone should of gone with him, this would of been hard for him to deal with."
"He didn't want anyone to go," JC said. "I offered but he said he'd rather do it alone."
That sounded like Joey alright. "He's probably back by now. Maybe you should go look for him." Lance flicked his eyes upwards. "If I know Joey, then he's up there, brooding."
"Returning to the scene of the crime? How predictable."
Lance shrugged. "He don't get no points for creativity, man. Go up and check on the guy before he trips and falls off the ledge himself."
By the tenseness of Lance's body, JC could tell that he desperately wanted to go himself and would if he was able - it took a lot of class to step aside the way he was doing. "If I find him I'll send him down to see you," JC said, although he expected Joey would of done that anyway. He held out his hand and Lance glanced at it briefly before accepting it in a firm, reassuring grasp. "No matter what," JC said. "You'll be my bro."
Lance nodded. "No matter what."
He found him there, just like Lance said he would, and JC felt a twitch of envy at that - Lance had known something that he hadn't.
Joey looked...good. Or rather better then he had been four days ago. He was dressed in black Armani with a white shirt and solid black tie, he stood at a profile and JC could see the square bandage on his forehead, and the two butterfly bandages on his cheek, his left hand was wrapped up heavily with silver, clawed, splints. The hospital had shaved his goatee to do the stiches, he held a vaguely intimidating look. JC was reminded of a mobster, standing over his territory.
As he walked up to him, Joey turned his head slightly from the view of the city towards JC, but it was impossible to tell where he was looking from behind his dark sunglasses. JC stopped a few steps short of him, keeping a good distance.
"Joey, how you doing?"
At first he didn't answer, with back straight and shoulders squared he stood as if at attention. When he did speak, his voice sounded like sand paper smoothing over a marble table. Hoarse and destructive. "I was expecting to see blood."
Confused, JC frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Up here," Joey gestured vaguely with another head tilt. "On the roof. I was expecting to see blood when I came up here. My blood, Lance's. Maybe even Anthony's although I hardly got one good shot in on him. But...they cleaned up rather well, didn't they?"
Hesitantly. "It's been four days, Joey."
"Yeah, guess it has." He moved slowly over to the ledge, and for a brief, insane moment JC feared that he would jump. But Joey merely sat down, with his hands now resting on his knees.
"How was the funeral?" JC said.
"Good turn-out. Anthony had a lot of friends, they all seemed surprised to hear that he had done what he had done. A few of the people from Brooklyn came up for the funeral, too. Apparently, Anthony wanted to be buried here and not back home, I'm not sure why -- bad memories I guess." Joey brought a hand up to rub his smooth jaw, still unused to the strange feeling of not scraping hair with the gesture.
JC took a few steps closer, until he was nearly looming over the other man. "I talked to the cops yesterday. They went to Anthony's apartment and they found all sorts of shit: surveillance photos, schedules, bus and concert tickets...They think Anthony might of been stalking all of us for a very long time."
"Damn," Joey blinked several times behind his sunglasses, suddenly very grateful he was wearing them - he didn't want JC to see him break up, as if he hadn't been doing enough of that lately. It wouldn't surprise him one bit if all the other guys had lost all respect for him.
Regaining his composure Joey glanced up. "How's Lance doing? He good?"
JC nodded. "Lance is fine, you should go down and see him later, talk to him about...stuff."
"And Chris? How's he doing?"
"Back to his wise-cracking self more or less." JC paused. "He wants to see you too, he's glad you're all right."
"I'm glad he is too, I'll drop in on him later." Joey paused to look out silently on the city, his eyes running over the same buildings and signs he had seen the night he and Lance had nearly died. "You know I'm glad Anthony is dead? Does that make me just about the biggest son of a bitch in the world or what -- I totally fuck up the poor bastard's life and now I'm glad he's gone. I feel like shit - I killed him. I can't believe I killed him."
Coming up to sit next to him on the ledge, JC squinted from the sun and said, "You know it's not that cut and dry, man. He tried to kill you, you acted in self-defence."
"Nah, I didn't." Joey's voice was grim. "You don't get it, JC. I was fucked, it was over for me. As I looked down that night, I knew I'd be going for a ride - there was no stopping it. So I decided that if I was gonna die, I was gonna take Anthony with me. I wanted to kill him, cause I thought he was gonna kill me - was no self- defence' `bout it. But...I didn't die. Thanks to you and Lance my sorry ass was spared. But now Anthony's dead and here I am -- glad he's not."
JC shook his head. "Joey, that still doesn't matter. You never would of been put in that situation to begin with if Anthony hadn't come here trying to kill you and everyone else..."
"...and Anthony wouldn't of come at all if I hadn't screwed up eight years ago!" Joey let out a growl of frustration and bolted to his feet where he started to pace. "Jesus Christ! It doesn't get better! He's DEAD and BURIED and I went to his fucking funeral and it doesn't get BETTER!"
Standing as well, JC moved to put a hand on Joey's shoulder. "You don't have to waste anymore energy on that bastard. It's OVER."
"But it's not over," Joey said. "I still got something else to deal with, to fix...The most important thing." He sighed and took off his sunglasses, wanting to look JC right in the eye. "You and Lance. I have to make that right. I don't want to hurt either of you, not for anything."
His expression soft and hopeful, JC gently pushed Joey to go on. "Just be honest. If it's Lance that you'd rather be with, I'll back away."
"It's not Lance."
"So I..."
"No." Joey shook his head. "JC, it's not you, either. It's both, it's neither. It's...over." Eyes deep with regret, Joey strained to get out the words without sounding like an idiot. He wanted to say exactly how he was feeling. "I'm sorry for leading either of you on, I hope you trust me when I say that I didn't mean to. I have been going over and over this - this thing in my head and I just can't imagine a way of it working without SOMEONE getting hurt or without the group being affected. The guys are understanding, but this is too much to ask of them. So let's just forget it all happened, Josh. Let's stick to being friends. I'm going to tell Lance the same thing."
He waited tensely for JC to reply, watching carefully for a reaction. It had been hard to get the words out, and he could only hope that JC saw it his way, saw where he was coming from.
The look on his face was one of disbelief. "After all that...after everything that's happened - you can just ignore it? You can just pretend it doesn't matter to you?"
Joey clenched his jaw. "JC..."
"What's the matter with you? How can you just walk away and dismiss it all like that?" There was a pained accusation in his eyes. "Was it just another conquest for you, is that it? See how far you could push it, see how far you could get me to play along?"
"How can you ask me that? You know how much you..." Joey shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Josh, you know you mean a lot to me, do I have to hit you over the head with it?"
"Then why this?"
"Because if something were to happen, it wouldn't be just about us. Or if you want me to be blunt...it wouldn't be about just me and Lance. Stuff like this effects the whole group."
JC's face fell. "So you do ... it's Lance."
"I didn't say that.'
"Then what the hell ARE you saying?"
"I'm saying that there is a lot more involved here then just the three of us!" Joey kicked at a stone by his foot sending it spinning into the air. "Goddamn it! FUCK! Why are you making this so hard?!"
Crossing the space between them in three quick strides, JC got into Joey's face and jabbed him in the chest to extenuate each word spoken. "I'll make it as hard as I have to! And Joey, quite frankly Justin and Chris can go FUCK themselves, this isn't about them!" Justin's words came back to him, whispering in the back of his mind like conscience.
"We're a team! Everything effects everyone else." Joey took JC's hand away from punching into his chest and held it tightly. "You saved my life. In more ways then one. You also gave me some great advise."
JC stayed silent.
"You told me that I can't go by gut instinct alone, and Josh - I'm going to take that advise again, now. Everything inside me tells me that I should forget the others, that in something like this their opinion doesn't matter, and it shouldn't. But you know what? It does. This is the sort of thing that makes and breaks bands like us. Are you willing to sacrifice everything EVERYONE has worked for...for a fling?"
"That's all you think it would be? A fling?" JC asked quietly, even as the truth of his words sank in.
"I think we both know what it would be." It was an obscure answer, one that JC wasn't quite sure he got. Like a lot of things Joey said it was clear only to himself but JC didn't push it. He did understand where Joey was coming from, and it hurt as much as it made sense.
"It's not fair," JC said, pulling the other man in close. "I love you."
Joey tensed slightly before he smiled and hugged him back. "I love you too, Josh." He pulled away and kissed him gently on the mouth, it was like the kiss he had given him that night a week ago when JC had come into Joey's room to find him so miserable, so guilty. He rested his forehead against JC's, closed his eyes. "One more thing: I talked to Stan... I'm going to go back to New York for a few months. My plane leaves on Monday."
"What?" JC yanked away from Joey's grip, eyes wide. "Your WHAT?"
"With Lance and Chris out of commission, the tour's been cut short. I asked Stan if I could take leave for three months and he said yes." Joey's voice was calm, but his eyes revealed a struggle. "By the time I come back... things will be easier. If I stay, I might not be able to - things will happen."
JC shook his head. "Joey, no - don't go. We need you here with us. We need you to..."
"You don't need me, I'll just remind you of a bunch of shit that's better left forgotten. Please don't argue with this."
So on top of it all, Joey was going to leave. Emotions came and went too quickly for JC to really feel and he slumped foreword against Joey's chest, his arms going around him. Joey hugged him back easily, and dropped his chin on JC's shoulder.
"It won't change anything," JC mumbled. "I'll still feel the same way when you get back. More."
Joey just shook his head, tightened his grip.
"Ouch." Lance grimaced as he stretched his arms over his head to pull on his t-shirt. The stitches on his back pulled and strained uncomfortably against the gauze bandage and he gritted his teeth hard from the pain. He had been out of the hospital for close to a week now and he still felt like he was moving about five steps slower then everyone else. Justin and JC were always there to offer their support, fussing over him the way that friends did, and when they weren't all hanging out together, they were visiting Chris in the hospital. He was due for release in another couple of days.
Joey had remained pretty much silent for that week. Keeping to himself and not saying anything to anyone unless asked a direct question or addressed. The press were still going nuts over the story, and Joey gave them all pretty much the silent treatment - letting them come to their own conclusions. The others followed his lead and did the same.
Lance still couldn't believe he was leaving, or that their relationship had been shot down before it could properly start. JC couldn't believe it either, and his own attitude was morose and dark.
It was Monday. Joey was due to leave for New York later that afternoon, and he had just come back from the hospital where he had said his final goodbyes to Chris.
No one could really believe that they would be without him for that long. It had been years since they had been separated for more then a couple of weeks.
Lance stepped out of his room, his eyes roamed the living room where everyone was sitting, silently watching a black and white rerun of The Three Stooges on TV. He paused for a moment at the door, his eyes resting on Joey.
Two days ago, he had made the call. His `plan', which he prayed to God and Heaven would work, would either sink or float now. His heart pounded in his chest. This would, literally, either break or save his friend - but Lance was willing to take the chance. Joey had been walking around wounded for the longest time now and he would do just about anything to get the smiling, optimistic friend he knew so well back.
"Hey Joey..."
Joey looked up from the television, he gave a small nod. "Yeah?"
"Come `ere for a moment, huh? There's something I have to show you."
JC and Justin exchanged brief looks before JC quickly turned his attention back to the TV when Joey looked his way.
"Okay, sure." Joey leaned in towards Lance curiously. "What is it?"
Lance's only reply was to open the front door, indicating that Joey should leave first. With a last look back, Joey shrugged and went. Lance closed the door behind them.
"What's this about, Lance?" Joey asked as they walked out into the hotel lobby.
Lance looked at him silently for a moment, then looked over Joey's shoulder.
Joey followed his gaze and froze. The blood drained from his face as his eyes immediately found the woman sitting on the red velvet couch a few feet away. A small boy of about seven years old sat next to her, and she gently stroked his hair.
She looked up. Smiled.
She looked radiant. Beautiful. A world away from the scared, nervous teenager Joey had once known. This was a woman. A woman and her son. Her black hair glimmered in the dim hotel light, her eyes were soft and it brought him back to a time not that long ago when there was no question of who was good and who was bad.
"Sonya?" Joey couldn't move. His own voice startled him and he managed to take a step in her direction. "Oh God...is it really you?" All this time, all these years of questions and uncertainties...it was happening too fast, Joey felt as if he were falling.
Her hand released the small boy's and she stood up. She extended her arms to him. "Hi, Joey. It's me."
Unable to hold himself back any longer, Joey rushed to meet her, pulling her up into his arms and hugging her as tight as he could, so tight that he was afraid he would break her in half. Tears ran down his face and he buried it in her neck, breathing in her perfume and feeling her hair brush his cheek. "I thought you - I thought you could of been dead," he sobbed, unable to hold it back anymore. "God, I thought I'd - "
"No, Joey," she whispered. She stroked his hair. "I'm here."
Sniffing, he pulled away and she held his face between her hands. "It's good to see you again."
"I'm so sorry," Joey's shoulders shook with emotion, his voice was thick with grief. "You don't know how long I've been waiting and waiting to tell you how sorry. I - I ruined everything for you, I'll do anything to make it up to you, anything I can, I promise..."
He hugged her again, aching with the need to know that she was okay. That she was really there. At that moment, Joey felt as if he would do anything she asked of him, his body ached from head to foot.
"Joe, Joe.." She pulled away with effort from his grasp and stroked his cheek lightly. "You didn't ruin my life. You saved it. If it hadn't been for you, I never would of gotten away from Anthony. I never loved him, Joey. You helped me to realize that I didn't have to stay with him. I know that you were only interested in me to get back at Anthony, but I used you too. Please stop feeling bad, please don't punish yourself over this any longer. We were all young, all foolish. The only difference with Anthony is he never grew up. THAT'S what killed him Joey." Looking over her shoulder she held out her hand and the small boy walked cautiously towards his mother, his eyes wide as he took in the weeping man.
Weeks, years, of pent up emotion had finally caught up to Joey, and now he couldn't seem to stop the tears. He looked down at the boy with awe. "Your son?" he said hoarsely.
Sonya smiled, and still holding on to Joey's hand, she nodded. "Yeah. Michael? This is an old friend of mommy's, his name is Joseph."
The boy buried his face in his mother's legs, holding her tightly. He peeked out. "Hi," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.
Joey laughed and wiped his eyes, he felt as if he had been given a great gift. "Hi," he said back. "I - I've been waiting 8 years to meet you..."
Michael blushed, even as he didn't understand, and went back to hiding behind his mother. She looked up to meet Joey's eyes. "I heard about Anthony. I'm so sorry he did that to you and your friends..."
"It's over now," Joey said softly. "We survived it. How are you taking it?"
Her expression fell. "I wish I could say I was sorry he's dead, but I'm not. He harassed me and my son for a long time, even from jail he would write these... these terrible letters. I was scared to death that when he came out he'd come looking for us again."
Joey shook his head, he hadn't known any of that. But, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was he hadn't ruined these two beautiful lives. Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he kissed it with closed eyes. "I'm so glad that you're okay," he said with the deepest of sincerity. "You don't know how much it means to me to see you again."
"Thank your friend." Sonya looked over at Lance who was standing by the elevators, watching at a discreet distance. He wanted to go over, to comfort Joey, but he knew it wasn't his place. "He's the one that found me and Michael. He even paid for our plane tickets over here."
Joey looked back at Lance and wondered how he could ever repay him for this amazing thing he had done for him. How could he even begin to?
"Well, we have to be going now," Sonya said, bending down to pick her son up into her arms. His wide, brown eyes stared at Joey with frank appraisal. "My husband is probably waiting for me back at the hotel."
A small smile. "You got married?"
"Yes. He's wonderful Joey." He reached out and stroked his face again, smiled gently. "He reminds me of you."
Joey felt the tears well up and quickly looked away. "You deserve all the happiness in the world."
"So do you, Joey." Her laugh was like music. "I always knew you'd make it big! You and that voice of yours." Leaning in, she kissed him gently on the head, near the bandage, and stepped back. She looked at her son. "Say goodbye, honey."
"Bye." The boy's eyes focused on the pendant around Joey's neck. "Superman?"
Laughing Joey couldn't resist reaching out and ruffling the soft tufts of brown hair. "Sorry, little man, not me."
A last look, a last wave, and they turned to walk out of the hotel - with Joey watching the whole time. When Lance came up to stand next to him, he turned.
"No one has ever..." Joey swallowed, unable to finish. "How many times are you going to save my life, man?"
"As many times as I need to." Lance put a hand to Joey's heart, felt the beat under his hand. This, he told himself, is something that I refuse to do without. You're NOT getting away from me, Joey, understand?
"Three months?" Lance watched his hand, it looked pale against Joey's black shirt. His eyes flicked up. "I'll be waiting."
Lance let go.
**EPILOGUE
He sat in his seat, slumped slightly, with a baseball cap worn low over his face. The plane had arrived on time and he had been able to board without too much of a fuss being made. His three months of leave had, amazingly, been kept quiet and so no reporters had been there to ambush him as he boarded the plane. He had gone to the airport alone, it having been decided that if all three went to see their friend off it would only cause a mob.
Looking out the small, rectangular window of the plane, Joey let himself drift off into his thoughts. He felt peaceful, calm. The tension of the past couple of weeks was releasing its hold on him slowly and he felt his eyelids droop in near-sleep.
Lance had done an amazing thing for him. He didn't know how he could ever thank him for something like that. Lance and JC... they had both saved him, several times over - body and soul. The only thing Joey could do to repay them was leave for a little while and make it easier for them to forget. It would have to be enough, Joey didn't know what else to do.
As the plane flew serenely through the blue, cloudless sky, Joey slept. His last waking thoughts leaving him with a smile.
********* The End
Thanks for reading folks, I hope you enjoyed it :)
msjingles@angelfire.com
- "May God have mercy on your heart."
I got this from the English-Italian Online dictionary - apologies for any glaring errors that sentance displayed.
http://dictionaries.travlang.com/EnglishItalian/