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In his hurry to get to the meeting, Kevin rushed by the large framed photo in the Jive Records hallway. On the way back, he stopped to take a look at it.

It was a picture of him, Nick, Brian, Howie and AJ, back when they had first started out. He felt old just looking at it. He rubbed his temples and thought back to when the photo was taken.

They had only been together for a little over a week. He, being the oldest in the group, had to be the most responsible, so he was constantly telling Nick to shut up and stand still. Kids... The photographer had a thing for trees, so they were all posed, hanging off the tree and standing around it.

"Kevin! Come on, hurry up. You've got an 8 o'clock dinner appointment with a new client!" yelled his secretary, Julia.

"Coming!" He took one last look at the photo and ran off to gather his notes.

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"I can't believe I am getting a gray hair," Howie said to his wife. "I am much too young to be getting gray hairs."

"Now, Howard, you're 45 years old... Everyone is getting gray hairs by now. If you don't like it, I'll pick you up a bottle of Clariol at the drug store."

"Clariol? I don't think so. Howard Dorough doesn't dye his hair." At the sound of the name Howard, he shivered. Ten years after taking the more mature sounding Howard, it was still taking some getting used to.

"Hey dad, we're having a retro day at school! Can I wear this?" his 15 year old daughter, Caroline, named after his sister, asked, holding up a Backstreet Boys t-shirt.

"I am getting old..." he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "It feels like just yesterday I was signing t-shirts like that for fans."

"Dad, it was 20 years ago. Let it go," Caroline said. "So, can I wear it?"

"Yes, you may wear it, Anna. But be careful! It's old," said Howie's wife.

"Thanks, mom!"

"You'll understand someday, Caroline. It's not so much that I miss them, it's just, I wish our breakup hadn't-"

"Sorry, no time for stories. If I don't leave soon I'll be late for school."

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"And he shoots, he SCORES!" Nick Carter yelled, jumping up and down. "Oh, ouch... My back."

"Nick, you're 38. No spring chicken," his best friend, Mark, said. Nick wasn't paying attention, he was checking out the girls in bikini's rollerblading around him.

"Later, old man," one girl said to him, skating off. Nick sighed as the DJ came on over the speaker.

"And now, for you thirty-somethings, here's something that will really take you back. Back then, their hit was "Backstreet's Back". Well now, Backstreet is gone, but we can still rock to their music! Here comes, "Everybody"." The Backstreet's Boys hit song in 1998 blasted over the speakers.

"Oh God... Something to really take you back?" Mark said. "We're not that old!" Nick grinned.

"Am I sexual? Yeah... Am I everything you need you'd better rock your body now!... You know what? I still remember that dance. I even remember the filming of the video."

"You don't forget things like that easily."

"I wonder how those guys are doing... I haven't spoken to Brian in 20 years. 20 years, man! In fact, I haven't spoken to any of them since that day we all stormed out of the dressing room mad at each other."

"They've moved on... It's time for you to move on, too... C'mon, one more game. I'm going to kick your butt!"

"In your dreams!"

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"Paging Dr. Littrell, Dr. Brian Littrell, please report to the 4th floor nurses station immediately. I repeat, Dr. Littrell, please report to the 4th floor nurses station."

"Tell them I'll be there in a minute," Brian said, stitching up the last cut on little Brad Jefferson's foot. "Now Brad, you need to keep this elevated and come back in two weeks if there's any swelling okay?"

"Thanks," Brad said, hopping up on his crutches. "You're real cool." He gave Brian a toothless grin.

"This is what makes it all worthwhile," Brian thought, snapping off the rubber gloves. He straightened his lab coat and walked out to the nurses station.

"I was paged?"

"Oh yes, doctor. This came in the mail for you. It's marked urgent."

"Thanks, Tammy." Brian opened the package. He was greeted with a Backstreet Boys keychain and a note from his daughter.

"Daddy - I found this in the store and I thought of you. Wonder why...? Much love always, Cynthia."

Brian felt a tear form at the corner of his eye.

"All doctors on staff please report to trauma room two! All doctors on staff please report to trauma room two immediately!" Brian dropped the keychain into his coat pocket and ran off to see what was up.

>>>>> <<<<

"Even a broken leg won't keep ya down, will it, AJ?" asked Amanda, his wife, coming into the living room.

"Never! Alexander James McLean stops for nothing."

"Well, you'd better sit down because Kristy and her boyfriend will be coming over soon. Don't you want to give our daughters new beau the third degree?"

"You betcha! Let me just finish with this dance. I've got a few more parts to choreograph and then I'll give Heads Up two thumbs up. They're gonna be big, I tell ya, big."

"Just like every other pop group you've choreographed the moves for... I know, AJ."

"Hey, they were all pretty popular. They just didn't have longevity."

"Wait, do that arm move again." AJ looked at Amanda funny, but repeated it. "That looks just like the pop lock routine you did for the As Long As You Love Me video."

"Really? Lemme do it again... You know what, you're right. Wow, that brings back memories."

"That was the song that made me fall in love with you," Amanda said, kissing him on the top of his head.

"Mummy! Daddy! We're home!" Kristy yelled from the foyer.

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