Over the Rainbow

Eyes glued to the TV screen as his character pummeled Chris's, Justin didn't look up when JC came back into the room.

"What'd they say?"

JC sighed and shrugged, sitting down heavily on the end of the bed behind them. "They're not happy, but we can go ahead and do sound check without him. I just hope he's back in time, cause we can't stall them forever."

Chris snorted. "What are they going to do? Put out an APB on the kid? He'll be back, he promised. Hey!" he yelped as Justin set his character on fire and then dismembered him.

Justin refrained from celebrating, staring thoughtfully at the burning body on the screen. "You think the fact that he didn't come back on the earlier flight is a good sign?"

He looked over at the older men hopefully, clearly feeling guilty.

Chris shrugged. "Maybe. If not, there's only one thing we can do when he gets back." He grimaced ruefully.

"What's that?" JC asked, leaning over to lace his sneakers.

"What?" Chris asked blankly. "You mean you actually want me to give an example?"

Justin slapped his forehead and shook his head with a groan.

Chris tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "Go to a strip club?" he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

Joey looked over from hunting and pecking at his laptop and shook his head.

"I hope to God things went well," he mumbled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stared down at the soft sand as it oozed between his bare toes, pausing. Then resumed his slow pacing.

He was walking the shoreline at some unnamed beach.

Lake he amended absently. His shoes hung from one hand as he paced back and forth endlessly, socks stuffed in his pockets.

Anyone who saw him would probably think he was either drunk or lost. He could see the newspaper headlines now.

Oh, that was sappy he mocked himself, steeling his heart against the lingering ache. Get a grip, man. Don't be so dramatic. It's not the end of the world. It happens all the time to everyone else. Why are you so different? You've had relationships before that ended. This wasn't even a relationship, so what's your deal?

But it had been something for him. He wasn't Casanova by any stretch, but he wasn't a monk. Yet in all the time he'd known Abby, he hadn't even been interested in another girl, even when he'd tried. Scary thought right there. You got in too far on something one-sided. Way. To. Go. He sighed. Not my fault. I didn't even know this was coming.

I've learned my lesson he vowed silently. No more emotional involvement. That's what went wrong here. I let attraction turn into something serious and got burned for my own stupidity. The only irony is that my career wasn't the issue, at least not yet. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, turning his gaze to the glitter of the afternoon sun striking the water.

No more emotional involvement. His chest ached again, in that awful, will-it-ever-stop, bone-deep throb of hurt and depression.

Good thing he mused tiredly. Because you don't have a heart to give. He wondered how long it would take to gather the pieces back together. And how much the holes would hurt. Because he had the sinking feeling that there were parts of it that were gone for good.

Stupid. Idiotic. All those pretty vows of being happy just to tell her she was loved were a crock. No harm, no foul? Lance scowled, swallowing back the compulsive thickening in his throat. Dammit!

How he wished, fiercely, that what he felt was simply from being thwarted. That it was an infatuation that he could complain about and move on. Like that of a little boy's selfishness at having a favorite toy taken away. But it wasn't.

He felt like a man whose heart had slipped from his grasp and shattered at the feet of the one person whom he'd expected to catch it. And the more he thought about it, the more it hurt, like an ever-expanding black hole that sucked everything but the pain inside of it.

There was no price he could pay. Either she returned the feelings or she didn't. His shoulders slumped.

Lance blinked quickly as the sun blurred, time pressing in on him. He had a plane to catch if he was supposed to make it to the concert on time. If he could dredge up the energy to care. To pretend that nothing was wrong in order to entertain ten thousand screaming, nameless people who wouldn't have any clue what he was battling. He felt a momentary flash of resentment before dismissing it. We have always pretended for them. Now you just have to--pretend your heart's not breaking. Broken.

He grimaced, a headache throbbing in time with the ache in his chest.

My life is a bad country song. If you had a dog-- He cut off the thought, pressing a hand to his chest absently and rubbing at the vicious ache. He had a responsibility. And maybe that was the best thing for him.

He'd failed. But at least that would make management happy. And if they knew, probably a few fans. His group mates would be concerned, but they'd believe what he told them. So they'd be happy. He could hide it from his family. Everyone would be happy that he would continue on, dedicated, as normal. Nothing radical to change things. No emotional attachments to make their lives more difficult.

Everyone would be happy.

Except him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JC drummed his fingers, humming under his breath. His eyes met Justin's in the mirror before breaking away as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"I feel responsible for this," Justin declared abruptly, the black of his opening outfit making his skin look paler.

JC looked at him sharply. "Why--"

"There's nothing to feel responsible for," Lance interrupted tiredly. Both men looked up in surprise, their eyes going expectantly behind their friend as he entered the dressing room slowly, sporting travel-rumpled jeans and a T-shirt.

"She's not going to appear," Lance answered their unasked question without glancing up, going over to dump his duffel on the couch and walking to the rack of clothes in the corner to find his own outfit.

"What happened?" Chris asked quietly, appearing in the doorway himself and crossing his arms.

Joey hung back, listening with an unusually solemn expression.

"Nothing," Lance answered simply, his back to them as he flipped through the clothing.

"What do you mean?" JC asked cautiously.

"I mean 'nothing'. Nothing happened," Lance repeated neutrally.

His four friends exchanged sympathetic looks behind his back.

"What did you say--" Justin ventured.

"I don't want to rehash it, okay?" Lance interrupted without heat. "I think it's enough to say that she's not with me, and I don't plan on seeing her." He jerked the black outfit from the rack with slightly more force than necessary. "Ever again," he finished, almost too low to be heard.

He turned around and smiled tightly, the expression never reaching his eyes. "Kansas City, right?" he announced with forced enthusiasm.

"Yeah," JC answered slowly. "Lance, man, if you don't feel like doing this, we can tell them you're sick--"

Lance waved a hand, head averted as he searched for his shoes. "I'm fine. I'm hyped for this one. Sold out, right?"

"Yeah. But--"

"Cool. I'm going to change. I'll be out in a few, in case management had their panties in a bunch."

"Okay, but--" JC tried again, frustrated.

"Okay." Lance pivoted to go into the connecting room.

"Lance?" Joey suddenly spoke up.

Lance paused. "What, Joe?"

"How was she?"

There were several moments of silence.

"Fine. Sleeping like a baby when I left, in fact," Lance commented gently, slipping into the other room and closing the door behind him.

Silence followed in his wake.

"Well, hell," Joey muttered.

"What now?" Chris asked, shaking his head and adjusting the wrists of his outfit in agitation.

Joey grinned ruefully. "The boy's got it bad," he pointed out. "I'm going to miss clubbing with him."

JC rolled his eyes. "Joe."

Joey's grin faded thoughtfully, and he shrugged.

JC's brows lifted, and he took one last look at the closed door before rising from his chair. "What should we do about him?"

"Nothing," Joey answered.

"What? We can't just let him be--" Justin paused, searching for the word.

"We can't decide anything for him. He has to do that on his own," Chris countered. "He's made this decision, so we all have to live with it." He grimaced. "Let's just hope we all aren't miserable for too long."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Abby?"

Abby hunched deeper within the blankets, pulling them over her head.

"You've had several phone calls," Anna tried again. "From Max--"

Abby turned onto her stomach, burying her head under the pillow and blocking everything, inside and out, from her thoughts.

Whiteness blanketed her mind through sheer force of her will, and she coasted into a comfortable numbness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God, let's just shoot him and get it over with," Justin mumbled, coming into the lounge and flopping down on the couch.

"That would be murder," JC pointed out.

"That would be mercy killing," Justin countered with a sigh.

"Euthanasia?" Joey asked with mild amusement. "I don't think they'd accept that in a court of law."

"Could I plead temporary insanity?" Justin wondered.

"No. You're not the one who's depressed," Chris pointed out.

"I'm not depressed."

Their voices died as they looked at Lance guiltily. Lance shook his head and crossed his arms.

"Sorry I'm not the life of the party," slight sarcasm brought some life to his voice that had been noticeably lacking the past few days.

"It's not that. We're just worried," JC explained tactfully, setting the papers he'd been working on aside. He pinched the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. "You've been very quiet," he pointed out.

Lance shrugged. "So sue me."

Joey and Chris exchanged glances.

"Is that it?" Chris asked after a moment.

Lance rubbed his jaw and shrugged again. "What?" he asked, uninterested.

"Forget it," Joey sighed. "We get the hint. You work through this however you want to--"

Lance stared at him in surprise. "I'm not working through anything," he countered automatically.

Joey snorted. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, disbelief oozing from his voice. "Lance, man, we just want you to remember that we are here. You do remember that, right?"

Lance sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'll be fine," he admitted obliquely. "Just give me a few days, and I'll be fine," he repeated.

"A few days?" Justin repeated, fiddling with the remote. "Is that--" he changed his mind when the others looked at him closely. He smiled faintly at his older friend. "Okay. Just remember that we have a rematch on Sega."

Lance nodded slowly. "I won't forget, J."

JC fiddled nervously with a pencil. "So you'll let us know when you're ready to rejoin the real world?"

Lance nodded again, having exhausted his vocabulary. He just couldn't seem to drum up any interest in regular conversation while he wrestled with his feelings. It was rapidly wearing him out, but he couldn't seem to escape, at least for the moment.

"Is there something wrong?" Chris asked, frowning at JC.

JC shook his head. "Nah. We just need some quality time," he smiled easily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Abs?" The familiar voice brought her awake slightly.

The bed depressed as someone sat down, and her fragile peace trembled slightly.

"Get off," she whispered tightly.

"Abs?"

She lowered the blankets briefly, a breath of cooler air hitting her face and making her flinch. "Get. Off," she whispered with the utmost care.

The weight left, the presence kneeling in front of her.

"Abs?" Max inquired softly. "I have some things that need your attention."

"No," she returned just as softly, the words leaving her without disturbing the well of eerie darkness inside her.

"Abs--"

She slid the blankets back up, forcing her murmuring thoughts into ceasing.

The voice outside herself talked briefly.

"I'll just leave them here when you're ready."

She didn't reply. If she didn't think, didn't talk, she wouldn't feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're here. Lance?"

"Lance?"

"Earth to Lance!"

Lance jerked to attention, coming back to earth with a thump.

Justin peered into the van with raised eyebrows. "Hey, man, we've landed and they're friendly. You want to come out and greet your fellow earthlings?"

Lance snorted and climbed out of the van stiffly, then stood flat-footed with surprise.

"Where are we?" he asked warily, wincing as the strobe above the door flashed into his eyes. Loud music thumped as several people exited the building in front of them, muting abruptly as the door swished closed.

"At a club. If you'll remember during our lovely late dinner, you agreed that going to a club would be an excellent choice for entertainment," Chris explained patiently.

"I did?" Lance replied blankly, barely able to recall what happened at dinner.

"Yeah. Are you saying that you don't remember?" Joey asked archly.

Lance blushed and shrugged before looking at the building again, doubtful. "I don't really feel like clubbing--"

Justin and Chris each grabbed a bicep, towing him towards the building. "You need to get out and have some fun. You've been a stick in the mud the past few days," Chris informed him cheerfully.

Lance started to protest, dreading the mingling and forced laughter that face him.

"Are you saying that you're incapable of getting over her?" Joey inquired gently.

Lance stopped protesting, striding forward and throwing open the door to the club. Loud music assaulted him. He turned and flashed a smile at his friends.

"What are we waiting for? Let's par-tay," he announced, whirling around and diving into the crowd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby flinched as the screen door slammed, swimming up from the depths of sleep.

She turned over, burrowing back into the bed.

And found that her body vigorously protested the idea of more sleep on top of what she'd already accomplished.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself back towards the blessed solace of slumber.

But her mind refused, drifting instead towards everything she didn't want to think about.

No. She breathed deeply, regularly, blanking her mind.

The murmur of voices came from the other end of the house.

Her eyes opened before she squeezed them shut, as if that would stop her from thinking--remembering.

Abby threw the covers off abruptly, shivering as the cooler air hit her warm body. She slid across the bed and stumbled her way into the bathroom, feeling frantically around in one of the drawers beside the sink. Her fingers burrowed through the washcloths there and closed around a small bottle, a sigh of pained relief working through her.

Clutching the bottle like a lifeline, she made her way back to the bed, climbing wearily beneath the covers before twisting the cap off the bottle. The pills inside rattled faintly. The bottle was full.

Abby tilted the bottle slightly, then quickly righted it as most of the contents spilled onto her palm. She carefully slid most of them back inside, leaving two in her hand. She took one more breath before popping the pills into her mouth, swallowing them without water. Then grimaced at the aftertaste.

She screwed the cap back on, setting the bottle beside her on the table before sinking down beneath the covers again.

Her stomach was empty, so the pills worked quickly.

Within minutes, her lids were drooping, her mind fading out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance straightened his clothes, shaking himself slightly as he walked off the dance floor to get rid of the feeling of the nameless young woman who had clung to him like a leech.

A hand clapped him on the back, Joey draping an arm along his shoulders as he fell into step with Lance.

"What's up? Didn't like the blonde?"

"Not really," Lance shrugged. "A little too eager."

Joey chuckled. "No such thing."

Lance flashed his friend a faint grin. "Only in your book."

Joey nodded, bobbing his head to the beat.

"Why don't you go back?" he asked unexpectedly.

Lance nearly tripped and fell on his face. "What?!"

Joey dropped his arm, moving away while walking backwards. "You've been a miserable s.o.b. the past week. Just go."

Lance smiled grimly. "Joe, she rejected me. There's no 'just go'. She said no. Flat out. I don't think there's any convincing to do."

Joey blinked, not expecting that one. "No?" he repeated slowly. He thought briefly. "Maybe she's just scared."

Lance shrugged, looking away painfully. "I don't have the kind of time to be waiting in the wings to rush in when she's ready, Joe."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thanks," Chris accepted the tray of drinks from the bartender and walked back to the table he was sharing with Justin and a tardy JC.

He set the tray down and straddled a chair backwards, picking up one of the mints from the bowl on the table and popping it in his mouth.

Justin and JC shifted without addressing him, watching something behind him.

Chris raised a brow.

"Wha?" he asked, chewing vigorously.

Justin nodded, and Chris turned in the direction he indicated, watching with sudden interest.

Joey and Lance stood in the middle of the dance floor holding a conversation. A rather intense one by the looks of it.

As he watched, Lance ran an agitated hand through his hair and shook his head, looking upset.

Joey said something else, gesturing and shaking his own head.

"Can anyone read lips?" Chris asked, trying without success to do so himself.

"No," Justin answered regretfully, eyes narrowed on the pair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby groaned, feeling dizzy as her world continued to shake on its axis. She swam towards the surface, beginning to struggle weakly.

"Finally!" Anna exclaimed. "Child, what on earth are you doing?" was demanded. A faint rattle.

"You've been taking these? Without eating?" Outrage fairly vibrated off of her.

"Anna," Abby muttered hoarsely, feeling like she was swimming through layers of cotton.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but it's going to stop! You need to eat, you need to get out of that bed--You've been asleep for four days, Abigail Prentice!" Anna continued relentlessly.

Abby batted at the other woman's hands, frowning. "I'm fine, I just--"

"You are not fine, and I'm going to call them--"

"NO!" Abby shot upright so fast she almost fell off, her mind clearing painfully. "No, Anna," she told her firmly. "Give me the bottle," she held out her hand in demand.

There was a moment of silence. Abby had rarely, if ever, treated Anna like hired help. "Abby--" Anna tried again, softening her tone. "Child, you need to face it. You can't just swallow pills and avoid it."

Abby swallowed. "Give me the bottle," she whispered.

Anna sighed, slamming the bottle onto the bedside table. "You are not this kind of coward, young lady," she was informed.

Abby shivered, shaking her head slowly and letting her hand drop limply to the bed. "Yes, I am," she muttered.

The bed rebounded as Anna stood. "No, you're not. You are stronger than even you think. Just take the leap of faith. Trust him."

Abby felt the blood drain from her head. "I can't," she whispered.

"You can. You have to trust yourself. Trust what you feel, child."

"I can't," Abby repeated, throat tight with panic.

"No. You won't."

Abby flinched as the words echoed inside her head.

She couldn't do this. Abby turned away, curling into a ball as her muscles trembled.

"I don't feel anything," she mumbled defiantly, almost to herself.

But Anna heard it. "If that was true, Abigail, why are you hiding under the covers like a child afraid of the dark?"

She didn't hear Anna leave.

Felt her stomach twist and burn with regret and grinding pain.

She reached for the bottle on the table blindly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joey blinked, squinting open an eye to read the digits on the travel alarm.

"Too damn early," he moaned. "What woke me--"

A phone shrilled again.

"Up," he finished, struggling upright. His mouth was a little dry, but he didn't feel hung over.

The phone rang again, insistent.

"Justin," Joey threw a stuffed animal at the other man, who was snoring quietly on the bed across from him.

The phone rang again.

From his position sacked out in the recliner by the window, Lance groaned softly and turned over, promptly returning to sleep.

Joey looked at Justin, who hadn't moved.

"Dammit," he mumbled, crawling from beneath the covers and stumbling over to the phones cluttering the table by the door.

One by one he picked them up as the phone continued to ring. Finally, the right one vibrated in his hand. He sighed, throwing a mild glare at his friends, who had managed to sleep through the whole thing.

He clicked the phone on, pressing it to his ear with a sigh. "Hello?" he asked, slightly hoarse.

"Hello? Joseph? Is that you?"

Joey pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his mind. "Ma?" he asked, confused.

A chuckle. "It's Anna Grace, Joseph."

"Oh, hi, Anna," Joey yawned, blinking. Then paused. "Why are you calling?" he asked, worry stirring.

There was a beat of silence. "It's rather simple, actually. Abby is--depressed."

His eyebrows nearly met his hairline, and he sat down slowly. "Depressed?" he repeated.

"Yes. She hasn't eaten or even left her bed since Lance came down to see her."

Joey sank back in the chair, frowning.

"Okay, start from the beginning," he requested.

Anna snorted. "Not like it's a long story. She hasn't confided anything." Briefly, she explained again.

When she was finished, Joey was holding his head for an entirely different reason.

"Okay," he decided.

"Okay?" Anna asked, puzzled.

"I'll be down there as soon as I can," he promised blearily, rubbing his closed eyes.

"You're coming down?"

"Yeah. Someone needs to knock some sense into her, right? And she doesn't pay my salary," he replied dryly.

"Are you sure, Joseph? I know that you and the others--"

"Much as I'll miss my buddy when it comes to having fun, he deserves some happiness," Joey interrupted quickly. "Just don't tell her I'm coming, okay?"

"Okay, Joseph. You be careful, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Joey smiled, telling her goodbye before ending the call.

"We're going," Justin suddenly whispered.

Joey's head jerked, and he gazed over at his younger friend as Justin propped himself on his elbows, face serious.

"Don't argue," he requested. "I never get the chance to take care of friends anymore. Two for the price of one, right?" he smiled faintly.

Joey frowned before nodding reluctantly. "Okay, J, but just be careful what you say."

Justin flopped back with a snort. "Wow, I wonder what I could say. Seeing as how we haven't heard from her since she left without a word."

Joey raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly. "Great. Practice that, J. Guilt is good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold blasted over her. Abby shivered violently, curling up in a ball and reaching for the covers in a haze of half-sleep. Just as her fingers closed around the edge of the comforter, it was yanked away again.

She groaned a curse, struggling awake.

"Anna," she hissed in frustration. "What--?"

Hard arms suddenly scooped her up, and she released a hoarse, startled scream, stiffening.

"Hush," Joey's firm command finally interrupted her brain's instant panic enough to register his familiar scent and presence.

"Joe?" she managed, dazed. "What?"

She was carried outside onto the deck, then down the stairs. She had grabbed onto his shoulders instinctively, confusion rising with her anger.

"Joe, put me down," she started to demand.

"Nope."

She blinked, stunned.

"Joe--"

"We're going to talk."

"We have nothing to--"

"Can we start with the fact that you completely cut us off?" Justin asked conversationally from behind them, causing her to jump with surprise.

"Justin," she began weakly, guilt eating at her.

"So now you want to talk?" he asked sweetly.

Abby fell silent. There wasn't anything she could say.

Joey stopped as suddenly as he picked her up, dropping his arm out from underneath her legs. Abby dropped with a soft squeak, straightening on rubbery legs as he released her completely. But her shaky knees failed her, and she sank to the cool sand with a resigned sigh. She lifted her face, feeling them towering over her. The rising sun warmed the side of her face with gentle fingers.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Two male snorts. "That's a lame question," Joey reproved. "Maybe I should have gone ahead and dropped you in the lake like I planned."

Abby's lips tightened, and she looked away. "I was under the impression that you were on tour," she commented softly.

"Airplanes, the wonders of technology," Justin snapped, his feet scuffing through the sand. He was pacing. "Sort of like the phone."

Abby winced. "I just needed--" she took a breath. "Needed to be--alone."

Joey's scent moved over her, the air blocked as he sank down in front of her. "Why do you think we're here, sweetheart?" he asked gently.

Lance. Abby swallowed hard, feeling the heat crawl up her face. Feeling exposed in the worst possible way.

"Please don't ask me to do this," she muttered. "I'm sorry," she offered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" Justin asked.

The blush grew hotter, and she directed her gaze to the sand.

"We know what happened," Joey assured her. "So we know why you ran away in the first place."

Abby winced. How she hated to hear it put in those terms. It sounded so…so…cowardly. Exactly she groaned inwardly, spearing her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"We also know why Lance came out here," Justin informed her.

Abby froze, feeling the empty space inside her tighten and fill with sorrow.

"We're not here because of that," Justin assured her. "We're here because Anna called us."

Her eyes widened. "Dammit," she breathed.

Joey sighed, touching her cheek. "We could have lived with the fact that Lance is walking around like a zombie. He would have recovered, eventually. But when Anna called and told us you were acting the same way?"

Abby lowered her forehead to her knees, hugging them to her chest. "I just didn't want to deal with--with that," she defended weakly.

"Sounds more like you were depressed," Justin observed.

Abby shook her head wordlessly, curling up a little tighter.

"Okay, then since you aren't depressed and you don't think of Lance as anything other than a friend, then you shouldn't have any problems staying friends with the rest of us. It might be a little uncomfortable at first, but Lance will get over it," Joey declared cheerfully.

Abby raised her head, mouth open in disbelief. How could he even ask that? She could never forget…

A gentle finger under her chin nudged her mouth closed.

"That's what I thought," Joey remarked ruefully.

She shook her head sharply. "It's not--it's just not," she denied, unable to stop the tears from filling her voice.

"Abs, he's not asking for your hand in marriage, he just wants a chance. God, that sounded pathetic," Justin muttered. "I feel dirty now."

Abby stared up at him with wide eyes. "I--he'll forget," she whispered. "He'll be glad he didn't…he will." She could say that with certainty. No one deserved to be saddled with the kinds of problems she had. And those were just on top of her blindness.

"That's crap," Joey countered pleasantly. "Abs, we all know him, and he isn't acting right. But we didn't come here to try and force you into--no, wait, yeah, we came to force you into something," he admitted.

Slow panic coursed through her, clearly reflected in her eyes, and Justin sighed.

"Don't go squirrelly, magic, okay?" he requested. "We're not going to hurt you."

A harsh laugh worked from her throat. "How exactly, is that supposed to comfort me?" she asked bitterly.

"She's right, J. Shut up," Joey ordered easily. "We didn't come here to force you into anything about Lance."

"Much as we'd like to," Justin muttered.

Abby's heart jumped before she took a breath. "Then what?" she mumbled reluctantly.

"We came to force you to accept and move on. Hell, you're forcing Lance to, so why shouldn't you?" Joey asked pointedly.

Her mouth opened, but no words emerged. "What?" she breathed.

"You don't want anything to do with him," Joey stated logically.

Abby couldn't stop the wince, the numbness rippling threateningly. No.

"But you're wallowing in your own--" he hesitated. "You're dwelling even more than he is. What does that mean, do you think?"

Abby stared towards him, wide-eyed. No.

"Well, you say it doesn't mean anything except that you're upset. Right?"

Nod, Abby. She nodded jerkily.

"On the other hand, we're your friends, right?"

The ache inside her chest filled her head. She nodded again.

"So, if you feel the same way for him, you have no problems, right?" Joey continued calmly.

Abby was silent.

"Abs? You feel the same way for him that you feel for us, right? I mean, it would be wrong to tell him otherwise. So telling him that you two couldn't be anything else was just the best thing for both of you. I wouldn't expect you to lie to him. You're just his friend."

Abby swallowed. Just a friend.

"Uh, okay." His sneakered feet scuffed over the blacktop, then the soft, ringing cling as he tapped the rim. She concentrated on the sound, hoping ruefully that the months of monotonous practice would kick back in.

Her head tilted, listening. She heard the thudding bounce as the ball rebounded off the backboard, and smiled slightly, pleased that she'd gotten anywhere near it. The distinct sound of the ball hitting the rim. Shush. The ball bounced onto the blacktop.

"Abs?" The snap of fingers in front of her nose made her blink.

"Was that one a stumper?" Justin asked softly.

She shook her head slowly. "You guys can't--don't ask me to--you don't understand what's going on--"

"Then explain it," Joey asked patiently.

"It's just--too difficult. I always wanted his friendship," she insisted miserably. "But things changed, and things can't be taken back." So many things she thought dazedly. But she would never forget…

Justin made a noise that sounded like a groan. "Joe, why do I feel like I don't have the training for this?"

"Because only crisis intervention counselors have this kind of training," Joey replied, rueful.

Abby frowned, irritated. "You're the ones who came. I didn't ask for this. I was perfectly fine--"

"Yeah, right."

She gritted her teeth, rubbing the ache behind her eyes and swallowing the one in her throat. "Shut up, Justin. You don't know the kinds of problems this would cause--"

"There are no problems except in your own mind," Justin informed her impatiently. "Maybe you have bad memories, but everyone has them. You have to be the one to decide not to let the past rule the rest of your life. Leave the past in the past and move on, Abs--"

He stopped as the tears slipped out silently, then his arms were around her, his sigh gusting against her ear as he crouched beside her awkwardly.

"Face them and move on. You are so much stronger than any fear or handicap--"

"No, I'm not," she denied, rubbing her face against his shoulder as she controlled the emotions. More than anything, she wanted comfort. "You don't know--"

"I know that you're using everything as an excuse to avoid your feelings. You're abandoning Lance just like everyone else has abandoned you. You're better than that. Just trust him. For once in your life, take the risk, get involved in something more--" he was groping for words.

"Relationships end, Justin," she whispered. "Love dies." It was the first oblique admission, her stomach twisting as she tested the feeling out. He was missing one point. This would not have been the first time in her life she'd gotten involved. Look how all those relationships had ended.

"Maybe. But Lance would never hurt you deliberately. Even if things don't work out," he added reluctantly, "That doesn't mean it's the end of the world. We won't abandon you if that happens. If you have to, think of it as something that will give you the confidence to seek out people--"

Abby shuddered, shaking her head. "No. I can never--no, Justin. That isn't a possibility." Once I give my heart, it's forever. That's why I never--wanted to. Defeat swept over her. Damn me. Damn him. I never had him and I feel as if I've lost him.

Another hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and Justin moved back. Joey picked her up again easily, carrying her back to the house without protest.

She was settled onto the bed gently, and Joey moved away. Abby struggled into a sitting position, gazing towards them warily as the silence lengthened.

"What are you doing?" she asked, clearing the hoarseness from her voice.

One of them picked up something from the bedside table, rattling faintly.

"You want to practice avoidance, fine," Justin informed her, walking towards the open French doors. "But you do it without pills." His voice strained towards the last, and her eyes widened.

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Already gone," Joey told her calmly as Justin tugged the door partially closed on its tracks.

Abby's mouth snapped shut, and she sank back onto the bed, directing her gaze towards the ceiling.

She wanted to be angry at them. She wanted to be angry at him. But all she could feel was a leaden ball of sorrowful defeat in her stomach.

"What are you going to do now?" Joey asked contemplatively.

She shrugged, staring out into the darkness.

"He was the one who left," the words slipped out in a small voice.

"We don't know what happened. But he wouldn't have left unless there was no reason for him to stay," Justin replied, frustrated.

The words slipped like a sword between her ribs.

"Exactly," she whispered, wide-eyed. It just confirmed everything she'd decided for herself. He had already started to see that it wasn't worth it. She felt oddly justified, ignoring the hurt jabbing against her diaphragm.

"What?" Justin cursed suddenly, catching her train of thought. "No, wait. That's not what I meant and you know it. Lance has more than his share of stubbornness, but he's not going to hit his head on a brick wall. He made the first move. Now it's your turn."

She snapped back into focus. "My turn?" she echoed.

"Yes. What are you going to do?"

"I thought you said that you weren't here to make me do anything about him." Her hands fisted in the sheets, beginning to sweat. Maybe I want them to force me--no.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, damn," Joey muttered.

Justin sighed. "Okay. Forget that. What are you going to do with your life now?" he asked with forced pleasantness.

She rolled her head to the side to gaze towards him. Forced a shrug. "Live."

"But--" Justin cut himself off. "Maybe us coming wasn't such a good idea," he told Joey.

"You're too used to getting your own way," Joey agreed humorously.

"Thanks, Joe," Justin grumbled. "Do you want to be alone for the rest of your life?" he suddenly asked her.

She felt the hurt swell. No. "It doesn't matter," she shrugged calmly. "I'm used to it. I'm comfortable with it. I don't need anybody--like that."

"Bullshit," Joey countered succinctly. "I've had enough of this split personality, Abs. The whole time you've been with us, you let us see the real you. Blind or not, you're just as normal as the rest of us."

She smiled wanly.

"No comments from the peanut gallery," he warned sharply. "Your "problems" are not any more insurmountable than anyone else's. They're just different. You never let them get in the way of anything you've ever wanted before, Abs. For crying out loud, you do more than most people without any sort of handicap. But when it comes to something as personal as--" he hesitated. "You turn into this whiny brat with nothing but excuses for why you won't do something. You run and hide when anything threatens your little bubble of safety. And it's not fair. To you or to Lance. If he's got the balls to make the plunge, why can't you? And don't give me that crap about not feeling the same way, because you wouldn't be so scared if you didn't. Quit being such a cry baby and act like the little terror we know you are," Joey finished with a snap, sounding irritated.

Abby stared towards him, stunned and hurt. "Joe--"

"No," he cut her off, pacing over the floor. "Enough of this melodramatic "pity me cause I'm this poor blind girl with emotional baggage" crap. Pull your ass up out of the sand and make a real life for yourself. As for Lance, you either love him or you don't. If you don't, quit whining and move on. If you do? Then you need to decided which is more important: your delicate sensibilities and false sense of limitations or Lance. Period."

She lay there, utterly speechless. Joey marched over to her, hauling her up for a brief, hard hug. "We love you, even if you're being a baby. But I'm not going to stand around and wait while you get your act together. And eventually Lance will realize he can't either. C'mon, J."

Joey's heavy footsteps stormed out the door, leaving silence.

Justin walked across the floor, hugging her gently.

She looked up towards him, barely feeling the gesture. "Joey's mad at me," she stated, still stunned.

"No, he's not. He's just--"

"Mad at me." Tears trembled in her voice.

"Yeah, he's mad," Justin admitted. "But not at you--at the situation."

"He's mad at me," she negated softly, sniffing slightly to pull the tears back.

"Yeah, he is." Justin sighed, standing again. "But only because he sees what you're doing to yourself. And to Lance. And it could be--" he paused. "You're like our little sister, and he's right. You're being overly dramatic about this."

She cringed. "None of you understand," she bit back the whine with a wince.

"Maybe," Justin agreed doubtfully. "But then again, we're not involved in the situation. We see things a little more clearly."

And I don't? She rolled over, presenting him with her back. No one sees this more clearly than I do. I'm the one who has to live my life. Righteous hurt burned through her.

"Magic?" His hand touched the rigid line of her back, and he sighed deeply. "Fine, be that way. Bye, Abs."

His footsteps slowed as they neared the door. "Maybe I shouldn't say this, but you're already mad at me, so I might as well," he decided aloud. "Okay, here it goes. You said you'd never fall in love. But you never took into account that someone might fall in love with you either."

She stiffened.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked solemnly. "He told you, didn't he?"

She didn't reply, curling up tightly to avoid the verbal arrows.

"I'm glad," Justin decided. "He needed to tell you. That way he knows he did everything he could, and now he can move on with a clear conscience. And now you know that you're just as susceptible to being bitten as the rest of us. Normal."

He left, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Abby opened her eyes, seeing the darkness again. She squeezed her eyes shut. He said that deliberately. Outrage filled her. To make me feel--feel--guilty…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance looked up from the glowing screen of his laptop as Joey and Justin stumbled into the room, looking travel-rumpled and tired.

"Been racking up the frequent-flier miles?" he inquired calmly, being able to guess where they'd gone. The hurting ache in the center of his chest hummed before settling into its usual low sigh.

The two looked at each other. "Maybe," Joey agreed.

Lance rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I can guess, don't play stupid."

"Who says they have to play?" Chris asked, stepping into the room through the connecting door followed by JC.

"Thanks, Chris," Justin made a face, then paused. "What's wrong?"

"Who said anything was wrong?" Chris countered.

Lance looked at the older man more closely, seeing what Justin had. Chris was dead serious. Even solemn, he usually had a good-natured twinkle in his eye, just like Joe. But it was missing.

"Justin's right, what's wrong?" he asked, setting his laptop and his curiosity about their trip aside.

JC collapsed on a chair, dropping the papers he held onto the coffee table. "We need to talk," he announced.

"That sounds serious," Joey remarked slowly, sitting down on the arm of the couch nervously.

"Yeah, it is. It's about Lou and Transcon." JC rubbed the back of his neck. "A--someone made a comment once and I got curious. We always wondered where all the money was going, especially now that we're pulling in the crowds. Hell, we have a multi-platinum record and are barely seeing any money." He chewed on his lip, looking up worriedly. "We're probably being cheated."

Everyone sat back, stunned. "Cheated?" Justin echoed. "You mean by Lou?"

The others echoed his disbelief. JC shrugged, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm not an expert, but even I can see that he's taking an awful lot of our profits. I've been going over some of the contract that we signed at the first."

Lance slumped back, crossing his arms as he listened to JC outline what he understood. The dread he could feel settling in the pit of his stomach was mirrored on his friends' faces.

"So what does that mean for us now?" Joey asked soberly when JC finished.

Chris snorted, running a hand over his face. "That means we have two options. We let this go on until our contract runs out and we can leave peaceably. Or we find ourselves a lawyer and try to work a new deal."

"Wait until our contract runs out?" Justin echoed. "That could take years."

"Exactly," JC confirmed. He shrugged. "We could just talk to Lou."

Lance swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. "And do you really think he'd tell us the truth? 'Yes, boys, I have been cheating you. I apologize. Here, let me write you a check for the amount I've taken from you'?" He shook his head.

"But Lou--" Justin shook his head. "I can't believe this. Why? He's--god, he doesn't need the money--."

"Some people never have enough," JC answered, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I didn't want to bring anything up until I was pretty sure. But, really, we need a lawyer to tell us for sure. Maybe I am reading it wrong," he cautioned doubtfully.

"I've read it too. You're not," Chris stated, disgust in his voice. He looked away, jaw tight. "We should have all been paying more attention," he muttered bitterly.

"We were having too much fun just doing all this," JC shrugged tiredly. He looked around, meeting each of their eyes for a second. His eyes met Lance's last. "Abs gave me Max's number once. He's a company lawyer. We can send him the contract and get an unofficial opinion."

His insides tightened up. "He might tell her," was all he could think of.

Chris shook his head. "He's a lawyer, and this is confidential. Once we get his opinion, we can ask him to recommend someone."

"Recommend someone?" Justin looked suddenly very young. "That sounds permanent."

JC hesitated. "We should decide now what to do," he agreed. "If it really is happening, what do we want to do then?" He looked around questioningly.
"We fight Lou," Joey was the first to speak.

"Fight him how? And how far are we willing to go?" Chris asked, crossing his arms.

"Meaning what?" Justin asked, fidgeting in his seat. He frowned. "Are we talking about leaving Transcon?"

"Maybe," Lance finally spoke, his thoughts running along at high speed. "If we can't get a new deal, do we jump ship?"

"You mean break our contract?" Justin asked worriedly.

"They might sue us," Joey observed. "Breach of contract."

"Then we release everything," Chris announced logically.

"You mean air Transcon's dirty laundry?" JC's voice was tinged with mild satisfaction. "Would serve them right."

"It could end us," Justin pointed out soberly.

Silence fell as they contemplated that possibility.

"We're just about to release a new record. A new tour, everything. The fans have been waiting awhile anyway. We might lose them," Justin added. "We'd prove all the critics right about our shelf life," he continued bitterly.

"Maybe. But maybe not. The majority of them won't forget. And our best hope would be that they stick with us even if the record is a little late," Lance commented softly. "The Backstreet Boys did the same thing, and they're okay."

JC looked at him sympathetically. "We've ignored a lot over the past months--"

"Years," Chris interrupted. "We've done things their way from the beginning because we agreed it would be better for our careers. Hiding girlfriends was the least of our agreements. But it has been getting worse. We've grinned and bowed to their wishes and carried on no matter what, and for what? To find out that we've been cheated, probably from the very beginning?"

He looked at JC. "Call Max."

JC raised his brows, waiting on the others. Justin got up, crossing to the window. "Call Max," he agreed.

"Call Max," Joey muttered.

JC met his eyes. Lance took a breath. "Call Max," he finished.

JC nodded. "We don't tell anyone anything yet?"

There was a round of nods.

"I keep it to myself," Justin sang softly, his palm smacking the windowpane sharply.

JC attempted to smile, rising from the chair. "I'm going to go find the number."

Silence followed his exit.

Joey dropped down beside him. "We're not going to lose everything," he declared optimistically.

Lance stared at his hands, his thoughts muddling along. He laughed suddenly.

"What?" Chris asked, puzzled.

"I guess if I need something to distract me, I couldn't have asked for anything better," he announced with bitter humor.

Justin turned to stare at him, shaking his head. "And we thought Joe was the only one who could put a positive spin on anything," he sighed.

Lance shrugged. It had only been a small lie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby was miserable.

And highly confused.

Not to mention her muscles were cramping from being tensed and held in one position too long. She heaved a sigh, momentarily disentangling herself from her roiling thoughts to uncoil her physical body. Her muscles screamed as she rolled over, rubbing the dried tear tracks from her temples.

Then she jerked back as something sharp stabbed her arm.

She reached out a groping hand and found the offending object twisted in the blankets, confusion spilling through her. What?

Her fingers smoothed over the cover, then picked it up. Objects spilled out, the last falling against her leg and sliding beneath it to bury itself in the mattress.

Abby found it, her lungs freezing as she connected to what she held.

The rabbit book. She'd thought it forever lost, and everything it had held inside it. Her thumb moved over the medallion she held now, her throat thickening.

Her mind flew back.

Lance had had it. He'd found it. And kept it. And he'd given it back.

What does that say? Her stomach tensed with nerves, and she sat up abruptly, taking deep breaths to still the vertigo.

What had he said? She closed her eyes, remembering the words that were imprinted in her mind.

What had he seen in there? Her tears. Her desperation. The weakest needs she'd buried within herself. For her parents, grandparents, and uncle. For someone to--

For someone else.

She gritted her teeth, confusion mounting in an unbearable ache inside her head. The delicate chain tightened around her knuckles as she pressed her fists to her temples, trying to still the hurricane of emotions.

I want to be loved a soft voice whispered. She felt it again. That wild thrill of shock and wonder and happiness when he'd whispered those words.

Everything she'd ever wanted. Her skin tingled from her fingertips to her lips, feeling his touch again.

You could--you could-- The possibilities beckoned, shining brightly at the end of the tunnel

She shook her head wildly as the insidious voice murmured.

NO! A desperate scream erupted from her, dragged from inside her. She couldn't love him. She couldn't.

Another scream tore from her as unaccountable rage flooded her, and she flung the book beside her across the room. Then herself, almost falling from the bed in her effort to run away.

She wavered dizzily in the center of the floor.

She screamed again, the shrill, furious sound ripping through the silence.

The silence. She couldn't bear it.

She screamed again, the heavy weight inside her chest lessening briefly, as if the effort released some of the terrible emotions.

Again, the chain slipping from her grasp as she whipped her hands through the air. The scream strangled abruptly as her hand caught the edge of the lamp on her bedside dresser, sending it crashing to the floor.

Abby paused, breathing harshly. Her heart thundered in her ears as her muscles shook uncontrollably.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she battled the violent urges.

Her teeth gritted.

Why? she screamed silently. Why should I?

The wind whispered serenely through the open doors, the waves slapping against the shore.

She breathed in short pants, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

The wind chimes sounded gently from the trees, the breeze strengthening, bringing the warmth of the rising day.

She struggled, the emotions spiraling downwards into her soul. She lifted her face, staggering slightly towards the serenity of the outside.

The curtains blew, lifting in the wind, and brushed against her shins.

Abby started backwards, her thoughts whirling to a halt.

Her memory flashed back to the days when she first lived in the house.

There was no color. She'd told them not to.

Ordered.

Control.

Like a spark to gasoline, the emotions roared back. Abby whirled around, inwardly terrified.

She could feel herself losing control. And she couldn't seem to stop it. A cry of pure undiluted rage clawed out of her throat as she turned on the place which she called home. Which represented everything she hated about her world in that instant.

The order. The control. The forced care. The caution. The alarm clock on the table beside the lamp hit the floor first, papers slipping off to flutter to the floor.

Abby paused. There was nothing else there. Nothing she could accidentally knock off. Nothing that might hurt her.

She screamed again, drowning out the silence. Her hands found the bed, scrabbling at the spread before flinging it off. She ripped at the sheets, flinging them towards the opposite side of the room from her position crouched on the center of the bed. The pillows followed in a frenzy of screaming.

Abby swung around wildly, sliding off the mattress and rushing for the dresser that stood against the wall. She stumbled as her feet tangled in the discarded comforter, struggling upright and kicking at it in her rush to get to the dresser.

A brush.

A comb.

Some hair pins.

They all went sailing across the room. But they didn't satisfy the burning anger. Frustrated, she searched in vain for something, anything, to throw. But there was nothing. Just like the rest of her life.

The emptiness.

The next scream seared her throat, burning its way from her soul.

Abby went to her knees, ripping open the drawers and discarding the contents in a frenzy, small sobs escaping her.

But there was nothing there either.

Abby crawled to her knees, then her feet, staggering across the floor.

She didn't feel the tears sliding down her cheeks.

"NO!" she shrieked, tripping and falling heavily to her knees.

"Abby?!" Warm, motherly arms were suddenly wrapped around her, Anna's scent and comfort reaching out for her.

Comfort she didn't deserve. Pain like grief swept through her, and she began to cry, great, gasping sobs fraught with angered hurt against the insurmountable walls in her life. Walls that had become her prison.

"No--"

She struggled out of Anna's embrace, hands scrabbling across the floor.

"No! Child--!" A hand grabbed her wrist, and she snatched it away. Her hand landed on something hard, and she picked it up in a rush of rage, throwing it with all her strength.

The sound of shattering glass overwhelmed Anna's gasp of surprise, even Abby's tears pausing as she felt the patio door explode outward in a rush of air.

"Oh, child," Anna breathed.

Abby rested her palms against the wooden floor, head hanging in exhaustion as the anger drained from her abruptly, leaving only the confusion.

Anna touched her back, and Abby started, her hand landing on something else.

She picked it up without thinking, the smooth, worn edges pressing against her palm.

Anna gathered her close, rocking.

"Abby, child," she crooned softly.

Abby whimpered and shook her head weakly. "Anna--"

Another hand cupped hers, unfolding her fingers.

"Oh, child."

Her fingertips traced the square automatically, her world quieting.

"Anna?"

"You can't cling to them forever."

Was that what she had done? Cling subconsciously to their memory and refuse to find something else. Afraid she might eventually lose it.

Her throat closed, the lump thickening unbearably. Her fist tightened around the nameplate. She had never cried so much as since Sunny had died.

She had loved Sunny with everything she had after losing the people who mattered most. And lost her. She had tried not to love Lance with everything inside her.

But she had lost him anyway.

She curled up in Anna's arms, feeling her world crash and burn around her as she fought with herself.

Her eyes sprang open, taking a deep, fortifying breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi, nice to meet you, thanks for coming," Lance smiled and waved as the screaming escalated, allowing himself to be rushed to the doors at the back of the venue.

Inside, they were greeted by several of the venue's personnel, plus several more fans that accompanied them.

Lance smiled at one of them, grinning inwardly as the girl blushed and ducked her head shyly.

He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Lance."

Her eyes widened. "Y-yeah, I know," she squeaked, then took a deep breath, her hand reaching to return the gesture. "Sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't do that--"

"Lance, man, this is--" JC's hand tugged him around to meet one of the managers, and he automatically shook hands and muttered all the pleasantries.

As soon as he was free, he turned around again, finding the girl waiting patiently.

He smiled ruefully. "Sorry. Try again?"

She nodded and stuck out her hand, which was slightly cold and sweaty with nerves. But she shook his hand firmly. Lance squeezed her hand appreciatively.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Andy." Andy smiled and withdrew her hand, clasping them together in front of her.

"Nice to meet you, Andy. You coming to the show?"

"Yeah," she grinned unabashedly. "Connections are the best."

He laughed fully, for what seemed the first time in weeks. "Yeah, they are. How old are you?"

"Sixteen. Seventeen in December."

"And what did you promise yourself you wouldn't do?" he asked.

She flushed. "I had hoped you'd forget that." She laughed, blushing slightly. "Not turn into a babbling idiot," she shrugged. "I sorta kept it?"

Lance smiled ruefully, feeling a minor pang of regret. "Don't worry. Happens to the best of us."

Andy eyed him curiously. "When did you turn into a--" she paused.

"Blithering idiot?" Lance completed with a wry laugh. "Not too long ago. But it's a long story." He paused. A long story.

"Well, I guess that helps." Andy smiled nervously, and he wondered what she had seen, quickly smoothing his expression.

A hand fell on his shoulder again. "Sorry, sweetheart, we have to go get ready," Joey apologized cheerfully.

Andy nodded. "Okay. It was nice meeting you, and have a good show."

"You bet, and thanks."

Lance smiled weakly and nodded, echoing the sentiment.

As they walked away, he allowed himself to ask the question that he'd avoided for the past two days in their focus on their financial situation.

"Joe?"

"What, man?"

"How was she?"

Joey was silent. "Not happy."

Which could mean anything.

"Do you think--" he stopped himself, cursing the weakness.

"Sorry, man. I don't know. She's--confused. And I don't know if she's ready to move on."

Which meant he should get back to the business of being Lance--single and ready to mingle. He grimaced.

"Remind me to smack Justin," he muttered.

Joey didn't ask for clarification. "Okay," he agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Abigail?"

Abby straightened in her chair, heart beating a little too fast.

"Yes?" she managed.

"Are you ready?"

She swallowed, tears filling her eyes before she blinked them away.

"Yes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin yelped as Lance slapped the back of his head, almost falling off the chair at the dressing room mirror.

"What was that for?" he demanded, outraged.

Lance shrugged.

"Do we need a reason?" Chris asked, spinning around in his chair and grinning. "I think the albino has a good theory. You need a good smack every now and then to keep you in line."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "I'll remember that next time you plead for mercy on Mortal Kombat. 'Sorry, Chris. You just need to die a bloody death every now and then to keep you humble'," he mimicked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Abigail, I'd like you to meet Shakespeare."

Abby smiled shakily, taking a breath against the aching sense of loss inside her heart. She held out her hand slowly.

A cold, damp nose pressed against her palm, sniffing. Then a warm, silky head was nudged underneath her fingers.

"Hello, Shakespeare," Abby whispered.

The Lab whined, then yelped, head cocking beneath her hand.

Her heart sank, the void opening inside her, and her fingers closed in a fist. Dimly, she heard another familiar canine voice, the warmth and scent surrounding her senses.

Her heart caught just once more before she took a shuddering breath, uncurling her fingers and stroking the silky fur.

The grief faded into a sighing ache.

"Are you ready, Abigail?"

Abby blinked quickly to clear her eyes.

"Yes," she stated firmly, forcing the quiver from her voice. "Yes."

Then loosed a short gasp of surprise as the dog at her knee suddenly reared up, placing his paws on her knees and bathing her face with an enthusiastic tongue.

When he was satisfied that she'd been thoroughly anointed, Shakespeare settled back on his haunches and sneezed, sitting his rear firmly down on her foot before flopping onto his stomach.

Abby sat stunned, hearing the trainer attempting to stifle her laughter.

"Maybe I should warn you that Shakespeare tends to be rather--strong-willed?" the woman offered.

Abby swallowed, straightening slightly as she tried to regain her composure. There was no time for getting off-track.

"Let's get started," she moved her foot firmly, and Shakespeare grunted, but gained his own feet.

"Very well, Miss Prentice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance grinned and waved at the cheering crowd as he was swung out over them.

The music started up. "No stoppin'," he started, doing a flip in his harness.

"No stoppin'," the other echoed.

The screams escalated. They flew out in formation, much to the delight of the crowd, as they finished the theme song.

Lance did one final flip before he was lowered to the stage, unclipping his harness and running to the wings. He picked up his water gun before sprinting back out behind the others, smiling as he heard the screams.

He squeezed the trigger over the first few rows, laughing at the excited expressions, quickly turning to surprise as the freezing water hit them.

Then yelped with surprise as cold water hit the back of his own neck

He spun around as the laughter rippled out over the crowd, the screaming going up a notch.

Justin grinned back at him, lifting the tip of his water gun to blow across the tip delicately. Eliciting a few more screams.

Lance raised an brow, lips twitching. "You have something to say to me, punk?" he drawled.

Justin raised his gun again, and Lance did the same. The crowd began chanting for both of them as the other three stood by and shook their heads. Justin grinned, and they began to circle one another.

They stopped once, eyeing each other. Then circled some more.

Stopped again.

"Okay, that's enough," Chris announced.

JC, Chris, and Joey raised their own water guns and soaked them both as the crowd screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby looked up as the door opened.

From his position near her feet, Shakespeare shifted, snuffling and snorting. Abby nudged him in the ribs with her foot.

"Shush, Shakespeare," she muttered. "Try to act professionally."

A cold nose snuffled her ankle, and she refrained from grimacing. She was beginning to wonder if maybe the center had made a mistake. Shakespeare was nothing like Sunny. As a guide, he was perfect. But she had to force herself to trust him in that. And personally, he was strange, stubborn, and disobedient.

"Miss Prentice?" A pleasant, slightly nervous female voice questioned. "I was told to come in?"

Abby motioned her to come in. "Of course. And call me Abby or Abs, whichever you prefer. Please have a seat."

She listened to the woman seat herself. When she was silent again, Abby raised a brow. "You're rather young."

There was a momentary pause. "Be that as it may, I'm very good at what I do."

That was the spark of confidence she wanted to hear. Abby relaxed back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"So tell me your qualifications," she invited neutrally.

"My name is Clara Rhodes. I've been in administrative positions for several different places for over seven years--"

"Why so many, and where?"

"I wanted the different experiences. So I've done regular business admin, restaurants, amusement parks, hospitals, nursing homes."

Abby smiled. "What makes you qualified for my purposes?"

"I have extensive experience working with the disabled. My father lost both his legs in a car crash when I was fourteen, and my brother was born with Down's syndrome. I enjoy working with children and adults, and I know how to run just about anything."

"You do understand that I need the buildings and grounds cleaned up in a week at the most. Can you do that?"

"As long as you give me enough funds, I can do anything, Abs."

Abby laughed at that. "You'll have enough. I don't care about renovation. Just make sure my guests won't get infected with anything or get hurt. It's better that they see what their contributions can accomplish. It won't help to think that everything is already done."

"Will I be responsible for sending the invitations?" Clara asked curiously.

Abby hesitated. "Anna has the list. You can help. If you have any free time. The clean-up is a full-time job unto itself."

"Understood."

"Do you have any questions?" Abby asked.

"Yes. Do I have the job?"

Abby smiled thinly, shuffling the papers in front of her before sliding them across the desk. "Yes. I look forward to working with you, Miss Rhodes."

Clara picked up the papers. "Clara, Abs. And will you be coming too?"

Abby paused, taking a deep breath. "Yes," she answered softly. "Yes, I'll be coming too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why do I have the feeling this was a deliberate move on your part?" The question was directed at them all

Lance looked over at Johnny Wright with a faint smile. "Move? You make it sound like we're in a chess game."

Johnny shook his head, peering over his reading glasses at them all. "You're cutting your schedule kind of close."

Justin shrugged, shifting his frame in the airplane seat. "Not like we haven't done this kind of cross-country flying before. Management never objected then. And this is a good cause. It makes sense for us to accept the invitation, considering what we're involved in."

They all exchanged glances and faint smiles.

"Exactly," Chris claimed righteously, gesturing wildly and jostling a sleeping JC. "If we want support for our cause, then we have to show support for others."

"Thanks for the stirring speech, Chris," JC yawned, sitting up. "Are we there yet?"

"Soon enough," Lance answered, checking his watch. "Another half hour, give or take."

Justin shifted, digging in his pocket. "We have to remember to call this chick--" He checked the card again. "Clara Rhodes, when we get there. She said she's arranged everything."

He looked at their manager for confirmation. Johnny nodded, flipping through the papers on his lap. "Supposedly. I just don't like this spur of the moment type thing. A lot can go wrong."

Lance reached over and took the card from Justin.

"Hey," Justin protested. Lance ignored him, staring down at the card. The heavy square lacked any sort of businesslike appeal. A bright rainbow splashed there as if dropped from the sky, whimsical gold lettering embossed across its surface.

"This should be interesting," Joey observed from beside him, gazing down at the card.

Lance made a non-committal sound, glancing out the window. They were heading back to Florida. To their adopted home. He should have been excited. This trip should be relaxing. They'd been invited to an open house of sorts, something to create interest in a place that hoped to offer a special haven for those kids and adults who needed somewhere to be as normal as possible, away from hospitals and struggles of the real world. All free of charge, according to the Rhodes woman.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. But all he could think about was that, with each passing minute, he was getting closer to her. He'd been so successful at avoiding thinking about her that he'd fooled himself into thinking he was starting to move on. Thinking and fool being the operative words.

He sighed softly, aware of Justin's sharp glance but keeping his eyes firmly pinned on the ground speeding by beneath them.

The intercom crackled to life with a cheerful ding. "Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We'll be making our approach to the airport in the next few minutes. The weather is a balmy 89 degrees and sunny with some high clouds. Humidity is nice and low at 60 percent for this time of year. The time here in Florida is now five-oh-nine p.m. in the afternoon. The captain is activating the seatbelt sign for landing. Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We hope you enjoyed flying with us, and will consider us for your future travel needs."

Lance tuned out the spiel after the first sentence, twirling the card between his fingers slowly.

He wondered what she was doing.

He wondered if she thought about him at all.

He sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had never been afraid to pursue what she wanted in life. But what she wanted had never been based purely on emotions. Emotions that she didn't quite believe she could trust.

Abby gulped, fisting her shaking hands in her lap as Anna's worked quickly to pull her hair up in a sophisticated twist. The silk and chiffon she wore rustled as she shifted impatiently, nerves roiling in her stomach.

Shakespeare whined questioningly from his spot near the door, but she tuned him out, taking deep, calming breaths to drown out the pessimistic little voice that told her she was making a mistake.

He'd told her to be happy. To move on. She was moving on, but she wasn't happy. Not yet.

Being with him had made her happy once. The happiest she'd been for so long. Being without him…

She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff without a safety net. Nothing would stop her fall if she failed this time.

She swallowed the nausea that threatened.

She'd done everything with Lance as her goal. He was the driving motivation behind it.