'I can do this. I can do this.' Lance repeated to himself as he got into the car and made his way to the Disney back lot. 'Just the two hours on Rosie and two hours for Disney and then I'm going back home and sleeping all day.' Ignoring the nausea and dizziness that had attacked him earlier in the morning, Lance pushed himself to get to work on time. Two more weeks, two more weeks of this damned tour and then they would get a vacation. And two more weeks before he can tell the lawyers to start the proceedings to sue Fat Lou's ass off. But two more weeks meant getting through today. Just today. Pulling into the parking lot, Lance knew that the shit would hit the fan as soon as JC and the other guys saw him. Even he thought that he looked terrible this morning. And if he thought that….

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Joey blurted out as soon as he saw Lance walk, no, stagger, into the dressing room. Pale didn’t even begin to describe the young man in front of him.

"Nothing Joe. Just that stomach thing again. Kept me up half the night." Lance said as he all but collapsed onto the sofa. "Call me up when it's time to go on, will ya?"

"Lance, I don't think you should be here," Joey said, feeling his friend's forehead. "You've had this thing for a week now. I really think you should go see a doctor."

"I did see a doctor. It's the stomach flu, just a persistent little bug. I'm fine, really. Just need time to get it out of my system," Lance said as he turned his head toward the cushions and shut his eyes.

"Lance –" Joey tried to argue, but it was no good. He could see that Lance was already sleeping. "It's not just a little bug, Lance."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Lance is sick, he can't do this," JC said with a steely calm in his voice. He had been worried to the point of panic earlier in the day as he saw Lance struggle to tape the Rosie O'Donnell show. And now, the situation had only gotten worse. What was supposed to be a 2-hour taping for Disney had dragged on for almost 5 hours, with no end in sight. They were all drained from the hot sun and the repetitious takes, but Lance, well, Lance was just withering before their eyes.

"Just a couple of more takes, JC. Then you can go," the director said, oblivious to JC's protestations. "Lance seems to be doing fine. He's just a little dehydrated. See, Johnny's with him right now, making him drink some more water."

"I said, Lance is sick and we're stopping this right now," JC said again, making sure that the director heard him.

"Look, you snot-nosed kid, you're not in any position to give me orders. I've got this taping to finish TODAY. And if you want to cancel it, then fork over $50,000, because that's how much it's going to cost Disney to reschedule another taping," the director said without looking up, much to his unfortunate luck. Before he realized it, he was on the ground holding his bloodied nose, thanks to a right hook delivered by another snot-nosed kid who had heard the conversation.

"Listen to me, you shithead. We're shutting this thing down NOW. JC, you take Lance home, we'll finish tomorrow," Justin said as he towered over the man on the ground. "Or would you like another knuckle sandwich with the one I just served you?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Come on, Lance. Let's get you out of these clothes and into bed," JC said as he carried the younger boy up the stairs and into the bedroom. He didn't remember Lance being so light, and so pale. He wasn't even sure that Lance even heard him, as those emerald green eyes remained closed. The ride back to Lance's condo had been quiet, with Lance sleeping most of the way. He didn't even put up much of a fight when Justin and JC carried him to JC's car and buckled him in for the ride. He didn’t hear Chris tell JC to keep him home in the morning until they could get the doctor to make a house call. His body told him to sleep, and that's exactly what he did. JC gently put the sleeping figure in his arms down on the bed and pulled off his trousers and shirt. He was surprised at how cold and clammy Lance's skin felt, despite the both of them being in the warm sun all day. And as he tucked Lance into bed, he felt the younger man reach out for his hand.

"Go home and get ready, JC," Lance whispered, his voice sounding parched and strained.

"I'm not going anywhere, Lance," JC said gently. "I'll stay here tonight with you, is that okay?"

"It's okay, JC. I'll be fine; I'm just going to sleep this thing off. Go home, you have to go to that party for Johnny," Lance said again, his voice even more distant.

"Lance, I really don't think I should leave you alone tonight," JC insisted. Something was nagging at him to stay. He didn't know what it was, just that he should stay in this house tonight. "The other guys can take care of the party. I'll just stay here with you."

"Me not being there is bad enough; the both of us absent will send Chicken Legs into the stratosphere," Lance murmured, his eyes closed. "I'll be fine, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'm just going to sleep. You can come back after the party to check up on me if you want."

"Tell you what I'll do, country boy. I'll make an appearance at the party and then come back here for the night." JC said as he felt Lance's forehead one more time. "I'll spend the night in the guest bedroom just in case you need me, okay?"

"Uhmm … mmm…." Lance mumbled as he turned and pulled the covers over his head. "Take the key with you."

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit," JC said as he quietly left the younger boy, who was already asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I can't believe it took me that long to get out of that party," JC said as he pulled into the driveway of Lance's condo. It was well past midnight. He had gotten to the party and then had been trapped, unable to leave as the PR people kept pushing one reporter after another on him, on them. It was only when Bobbie literally dragged him off by the arm that he was able to get away.

"I can't believe you left Lance alone," Bobbie fumed in the front passenger's seat. "If I was sick and you were my boyfriend I'd kick your sorry ass from here to China and back again."

"I'm not his boyfri-" JC tried to argue.

"Oh cut the crap, will you, JC?" Bobbie's barrage continued. "I told you six months ago, everybody and their grandmother knows that you're hopelessly in love with that boy. Now it's a problem that he can't quite see it that way, but not too much of a difficult one to overcome, seeing as how his eyes are usually overcome with lust everytime he gets within five miles of you. I told you back then not to let go of this one, that he's the best thing that's ever going to happen to that skinny, scrawny ass of yours. And what do you do? When he's sicker than an armadillo turned on its back by the side of I-10 on the way to El Paso, you up and leave to attend some sorry shit party for a manager who's probably robbing you blind and ripping you off afterwards!"

"Jesus, woman! I don't know what kind of PMS you have tonight, but can we just get inside the house and check up on Lance before the neighbors think we're married or something?" JC smirked as they went through the front door. He ignored the punch on the arm that Bobbie had given him after his remark. She was his best friend, but God can she be a bitch! She was right about Lance, of course, but she was still such a bitch!

"Something's wrong," JC said immediately as he entered the condo. He had not left the stairway light on when he left earlier in the evening. And the kitchen light was on also. "Lance? You up there?" As he moved toward the stairs and Bobbie moved toward the kitchen, he heard her let out a loud gasp.

"Joshua! Get in here!" Bobbie shouted from the kitchen. JC rushed in to find Lance on the floor, an empty tumbler and some spilled water beside his shivering body.

"Lance! Lance, honey! Are you okay?" Bobbie asked frantically as she and JC turned the younger boy over. Quickly running her hands around his face and chest, she found that Lance was running a raging fever, despite his shivering frame.

"Bobbs? Tha- that you?" Lance said through clattering teeth.

"Yes, honey. JC's here with me. Are you okay?" Bobbie asked again.

"Co- cooo … cold," Lance croaked out as he pulled himself into her for warmth. "Too … cold."

"Oh honey, what are you doing down here?" Bobbie asked as she motioned for JC to find something, anything, to cover Lance up.

"Thirsty … wanted … wanted water," Lance said, his voice drifting away. "Josh … here?"

"Yes, honey, JC's right here," Bobbie said just as JC returned to the kitchen with a blanket.

"Didn't – didn't want him to worry," Lance mumbled, barely on the edge of coherency.

"I'm right here, Lance. I'm right here," JC said, his voice thick with emotion. He shouldn't have left him alone tonight. He shouldn't have left at all. Bundling the younger boy up, JC scooped Lance into his arms and made a beeline for the door, with Bobbie right on his heels. "We're going to take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Give me the keys, Joshua. I'm driving," Bobbie ordered. JC readily handed the keys over to her after loading Lance into the back seat. He held onto the younger boy for dear life as Bobbie hurled them down I-4 toward Methodist Hospital.