"So, any more suggestions?" Justin threw the question out at the other four in the room. The demo tape was in the can, ready to be shipped off to various record companies, but there was one slight problem.

"How can something so simple be so complicated?" Chris offered. "It's just a name, for chrissakes!"

"Chris, it's not JUST a name. It's going to be our identity from now on." Joey chimed in. They had been going over this point for hours upon countless hours now, and were still getting nowhere. "Look, we've gone through our names, the letters of the alphabet, song titles, album titles, even the top 100 episode titles of Star Trek, and we still can't get something semi-decent together. At this rate, we should just call ourselves Five Octaves Without a Name."

"Why don't we use the name Mrs. Harless suggested, In Synch?" Lance said, finally dropping his two cents into the conversation. He had mostly stayed out of the "naming crisis", as Paul Harless had dubbed their endless battles, until now. Unfortunately, it was the night before they were supposed to ship the tapes out, and they needed a name, badly.

"That's lame." JC retorted, not so much that he didn't like the name, just that Lance had endorsed the name.

"Hold on, guys. I think we can make that in synch work. Give me a minute here." Justin said, taking the sheet of paper in front of him that had all of their names on it. "Look, if we use the last letters of our first names, we can spell N-S-Y-E-C."

"And your point is? There is no name there, just five letters." JC smirked.

"Yes, but if we change the E to an N, we can get N-S-Y-N-C. 'N SYNC, get it?" Justin pressed, trying to get his idea across to the four skeptical, frowning faces across from him.

"But there is no N at the end of James or Lance or Bass, Einstein." Chris said. "What do you propose, Lance change his name?"

"Sure, how about it? Lansten?" Justin said, throwing out the new nickname and slowly turning his full attention to Lance.

"I don't care." Lance replied nonchalantly. "Just as long as we can put a name on that tape when we ship it off tomorrow.

"You don't care that a sixteen-year-old just changed your name?" JC asked, unable to hide his astonishment. "What are you? A robot or something?"

"Why should I care? It's business. Besides, it sounds good. And unless you've got a better idea, Lord of the Dance, can we just put this puppy to rest and use 'N SYNC?!" Lance replied, not giving JC an inch.

"N SYNC it is then!" Chris stated firmly. He was definitely not in another mood for one of Lance and JC's asinine fights tonight.

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

"Germany? Why do we have to go all the way to Germany to get a recording contract?" Lance asked, putting an abrupt damper on the euphoria that the group was feeling. Lou Pearlman, owner of TransCon, had just called them to tell them that BMG had signed them to a contract … in Germany.

"Who cares, man!" Justin shouted gleefully. "We've got a recording contract! It's what we've been working for! It doesn't make a difference if it's here, in Germany, or on Mars. The biggest record company in the world just gave us a contract!"

"I don't know, Justin. It just sounds fishy to me. We're Americans. Why do we need to go to Germany?" Lance continued to protest.

"Oh, stuff it, country boy!" JC cut him off. "Lou knows the business better than we do. We're probably signed to Germany because the market here is still fixated on Pearl Jam and grunge rock. Besides, it's BMG, they're everywhere! And that means we're going to be everywhere too!

"Yes, but aren't the Backstreet Boys on the same label? Aren't we just copying them?" Lance continued, unwilling to budge on his argument.

"So what? Backstreet is just copying other groups, like Boyzone and New Kids. It's all pop music." JC replied, now a little more than irritated at the conversation.

"Still, we're Americans, we should be able to –" Lance tried to continue, but JC wouldn't let him.

"Look, country boy. We've got a recording contract. I don't care if it's with BMG in Germany, Arista out of New York, or even with the Backpackers of Upper Mongolia out of Ulan Bator. Stop being such a pessimistic spoiler all the time. We've got an album to record!" JC scolded his roommate.

"And where are we recording?" Lance asked, already knowing the answer.

"Sweden," Chris said. He had been silent up till this point, but he shared Lance's feelings. He had only known the kid for six months, but somehow he had learned to trust Lance's judgment. And right now, Lance wasn't feeling all that great about this deal.

"That's exactly my point. Why is it that everything about this contract has only one country missing, the country we actually live in?" Lance pressed, calculating that this was the final statement that was going to push JC over the edge, again. He was right.

"Oh for the love of God! Are you going to sign the fucking contract now or am I going to have to whip your pretty little white-Mississippi ass into submission before you sign it, country boy?!" JC thundered.

"Jesus, JC! Take it easy!" Joey interjected as he held the older man down. "Lance was just making his concerns known. This is an equal partnership, remember? Everyone has equal footing here."

"Forget it, Joey. It must be that time of the month again for Lord of the Dance here. I'll sign it, I'll sign it. But I still want to go over the fine print of this thing. I want to have an outside lawyer take a look at it." Lance said.

"Fine, that lawyer of yours can take a look at it later. Sign it now so we can start working, country boy." JC seethed, letting Lance's last remark pass without incident.

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

"Come on, Lance. You're the only one who can do it without him getting suspicious." Justin pleaded. They were in New York City, and they had to get Josh out of the hotel for about an hour to set up his surprise birthday party. "You know how he's always on his guard with the rest of us, especially with this being his 21^st birthday and all. You, on the other hand, will not be…."

"I know, Justin. I know. I, on the other hand, will not raise his suspicions because he already hates my guts and knowing that the feeling is mutual he therefore would never think that I had any benevolent ulterior motive such as squiring him to a surprise birthday party, right?" Lance answered his friend.

"Come on, Lance. You know that JC doesn't really hate you as much as he lets on." Justin laughed. "Think of yourself as –"

"The cantankerous thorn in his side? Don't worry Justin. It doesn't bother me that JC thinks I'm the biggest pain in the ass since Sherman crossed the Georgia border on his way to Atlanta. I'll get him out of the hotel. Y'all just make sure that everything's ready by the time we get back." Lance answered.

"Thanks Lance. We'll make sure his embarrassment tonight is worth your while." Justin said as he headed out the door to round up Joey and Chris and start putting their plan into action.

"Are you serious?!? You absolutely must have it now?!?" JC yelled. He had been doing a lot of that lately, and at one particular person.

"Unless you want me sniffling and hacking and keeping you up half the night." Lance replied calmly. "And you know how I get when I'm sick…."

"Okay, okay. Just let me get my keys and we'll go. Are you sure you've already checked with the hotel gift shop to see if they have any?" JC asked in a futile attempt to stop this little excursion that they were taking.

"Yup, they're plum out of it. But the lady was nice enough to tell me that there's a drugstore about five blocks from here that has it." Lance replied.

"And why is it again that I have to go with you?" JC said as he moved toward the door.

"Because Lou says we can't go out alone here and I can't find any of the other guys at the moment." Lance replied, suppressing an unseen smile.

"Just my luck. I'm in the greatest city in the world and I have to baby-sit you." JC lamented as they made their way down the hall and toward the elevator.

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

'What the hell is taking him so long?' JC thought to himself as he waited outside the front of the drugstore, reading the headlines off the tabloids that lined the window. Lance had gone in to ask if they had this specific type of cold and cough medicine. Leave it to that mama's boy to have allergies that forced him to take this particular kind of cough syrup. But it shouldn’t have taken him this long. He had been in there for fifteen minutes already. 'This is ridiculous!' He said to himself as he pushed the door open and walked into the store.

"Lance, what the hell is taking you –" JC never finished his sentence, as he saw the kid standing there with a gun pointed at the pharmacist, the register clerk, and at Lance. Except now this kid, who couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15, was moving his arm and pointing it directly at JC.

"JOSH! LOOK OUT!" He heard Lance shout and a split second later he heard the sound of a gun. He didn't know what happened first, the gun going off or Lance tackling him, sending the both of them into a row of Kleenex and skin care products, with the heavy weight of Lance reminding him of the days when he played pee-wee football back in Maryland. He saw the robber run out of the store and heard the pharmacist frantically dial 911. The clerk was peering over him, asking him if he was okay. Was he okay? He brought up one of his hands, and his stomach turned inside out as he saw the bright red tinge of blood on it. But he didn't feel anything; nothing hurt. He didn’t think that he was hit. And only then did he realize that Lance had not moved on top of him.

"Lance? Lance?! Are you okay?!?!" He cried, his voice now rising to the level of panic as he tried to get out from underneath Lance's body. The younger boy stirred, wincing as he grabbed his left arm.

"Stay still, Lance. Help is on the way." JC said as he cradled Lance's head in his lap.

"I'm fine, JC. Just hurt my arm a little." Lance said as he tried to get up.

"Stay down, dammit! You're hurt. Just stay down and let the paramedics take a look at you."

"Really, JC. I'm fine, just a little…" Lance said, trying to get up again, but this time, dizziness forced his head back down to JC's lap.

"For once in your life, listen to me you dumb shithead! You could've gotten yourself killed with that stupid little trick! Do you know that?! What were you thinking, jumping out in front of the gun like that, you damned fool!!" JC shouted again, and this time, Lance didn't argue. He let his head rest back onto JC's lap, barely noticing that the older man was running his fingers gently through his peroxide-bleached, spiked mane.

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

"JC? Where the hell were you guys? You left almost five hours ago!! It's midnight!!" Justin said as his two friends finally walked through the door of their hotel suite. The remnants of a surprise party were there, but the guests had long since gone home.

"Jesus Christ, Lance! What happened to you?!" Joey asked at the same time, noticing his left arm in a sling and how pale the younger boy looked.

"It's nothing Joey. I had a little accident, that's all." Lance said quietly. "Look guys, I'm sorry about the way things turned out tonight, but can we talk about it in the morning? I'm really tired and I just want to get some sleep."

"Go to sleep, Lance. I'll take care of things." JC said, his demeanor grim.

"Thanks, JC." Lance said as he disappeared into the room that they shared.

"So what the hell happened?" Justin asked again. Three pairs of eyes waited as they saw JC go to the hotel suite's refrigerator, get a single-serving bottle of XO out, and downed it in a single gulp. Only then did he answer Justin's question.

"We walked into a robbery at the drugstore. Lance was shot," JC said simply, his eyes still having the terrified look that he had five hours earlier, when he first saw the reddish tinge of Lance's blood on his hand.