-December 19th, 2009-  

“Easy does it, sleepy.”

JC hissed once his frail form met the outside from the warmth of the backseat of Justin’s rental SUV, hugging his sweatshirt closer to his chest.  “My God, what is it, like, 10 degrees out here?”

Justin smirked.  “24 degrees.  Jace, it is nearing Christmas.”

He shuddered.  “Don’t remind me.”

Justin frowned as he walked to the back of the vehicle, pulling the latch and letting the trunk lift up above his head.  He took a moment to collect his bearings as JC slowly meandered towards the front porch of Justin’s parents’ home, hanging his head.  It seemed that the hole JC had been digging himself had only gotten deeper once the Thanksgiving holiday had ended and Christmas began to fast approach.   He was more withdrawn, more quiet than ever and another six pounds had slowly deteriorated off his body.  At 149 pounds, JC began to show signs of the pain that they were warned about, low moans of discomfort escaping his mouth at various times of the day, more evident in sleep than not – though 75% of his day consisted of sleeping now; only waking up when Lauren arrived to do her daily (not every other day anymore … this worried Justin) check-up and dosages. 

With the thought of Lauren, a smile eased onto his face.  When she arrived, suddenly JC was no longer grumpy!JC but the rare and often missed affable!JC.  He was definitely crushing on his nurse and everyone knew it, except for him.

He had a feeling that Lauren knew.  It might have been the sly smiles she’d give him and the shy ones that she’d give Justin when he caught her smiling at him that way or perhaps the lingering gaze on him, even if he had slowly begun his trek back into sleep.  Something needed to happen between those two and he was going to be the one to start it all.

That was why he invited her to come along for the week of Christmas at his parents’ place. 

… You know, for precautionary reasons.

“Justin, you coming?”

He turned to look at JC as he blindly reached for their bags, nodding.  “Of course; couldn’t let your frail ass walk into my house and eat all the peach cobbler, now could I?”

JC snorted in reply, reaching for the door knob as Lynn opened it before he could even attempt to turn the knob.  “Hi, Lynn …”

Lynn’s curly hair fluttered in her face from the December breeze as she absently brushed it away, extending her arms to hug the frail man before her.  “Hi, Josh.”  She held to him tightly, hands running up and down his back comfortingly.  “Come inside before you get sick.  You too, Justin Randall!”

“Coming Mama,” he called, rolling his eyes at her protectiveness, even when both men were grown adults.  He trudged through the few inches of snow on the ground, making his way into the foyer and placing the suitcases near the shoes that JC had just toed off, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and spice.  This was his home.

“Whoa, hey, easy!”

He jerked his head towards Paul’s alarmed voice, his arms under JC’s own as he steadied the man who nearly crumpled to the floor in exhaustion.  Justin was at his side quickly, steadying the smaller man as he braced himself against the wall.  “You all right,” he asked softly, stepping away from him to let him catching his own bearings.   JC nodded, avoiding any and all eye contact, his hand reaching for the top of his head but pausing at his forehead, itching to do the one thing he used to do when nervous and slightly worried: run his hand through his hair and away from his eyes.  He no longer could do such a thing; he had no hair.  The only hints of hair were the chocolate brown wisps at the crown of his head that he kept covered 100% of the time in a ball cap or beanie.  “Can you show me what room is mine?” Justin nodded, letting JC follow slowly, ignoring the fact that he grew winded just by eleven stairs.  “Mom made up the guest room for you so it’s to your liking and there are fresh towels, too …” JC mumbled in response, looking into the bedroom.  “Thanks, Justin.”

He patted him on the back, letting him slowly make his way into the room and lower himself onto the bed.  He lie there, eyes clenched shut and his arms crossed over his forehead.  He was unsure of what to do; Lauren would not be in until early morning and she was the only one that he seemed to tell her anything anymore.  Which, he understood, but before she came, he actually knew was JC needed.  “Jace?”

“I’m okay, Justin,” he said softly.  “Go visit with your parents, don’t let me intrude.”

“You’d never be an intrusion,” he replied, his tone stern by quiet.  “Maybe a pain in my ass sometimes since you won’t tell me anything, but –“ “I don’t want this to be my last Christmas here.”

Justin watched him roughly swallow, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down slowly as he breathed slowly.  “We can come back here next year, if you’d like –“

“That’s not what I meant, Justin,” he said, annoyance in his voice, though he hadn’t intended for it to come out that way.  “I meant, I don’t want to be dead this time next year.”

“You’re not going to be.”

JC turned his head, looking at Justin squarely in the eye for the first time in a long time.  “Then why do I already feel as if I am?”   “Hey, are you feeling all right?  You look a little flushed.”

He dragged his eyes away from the window, away from watching Justin and his mom unpack groceries from her Land Rover towards Lauren who had just stepped into the room.  He shrugged, swiping a bead of sweat from his temple as he put his focus on the woman who approached him, warm gaze taking him in slowly.  “I feel the same as I always do: like shit.”

She put a hand to his forehead, frowning as she turned her palm over and placed the back of her hand to his skin.  “You’re warm,” she stated, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his forehead, a fever-checking way his mother used to do to him as a child.  “And clammy.  How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Like shit?  For the last three months.”

“Joshua.”

He frowned, feeling the lines at the corners of his lips going deeper.  “Since sometime after midnight last night?” “Get back into bed,” she said, nodding towards the bed across the room.  “You need to sweat out this fever and you’re not going to do it sitting by a window.  I’m going to go make you some soup and tea and you’re going to eat and drink every last bit of it.”

He smirked, rolling his eyes.  “Such the caring nurse you are.”

“Get in bed, Chasez.” “Yes, Nurse Lauren.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but he did not miss the flash of worry pass through her eyes as she turned to leave the room.  What was a little fever compared to all the issues he had running through his body now?  He’d take a fever every day of his life if it meant not waking up feeling as if he were going to die sometime that day. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”  Justin froze as he watched Lauren rummage quickly through her duffle bag that she had left on the kitchen counter, the duffle full of medical necessities that she brought along every time she visited JC at the apartment.  “He all right?”

“Yeah,” she stated, it rushed out of her mouth, “fine.  I just need to – God damnit, why can’t I find the damn thermometer?!”

Lynn stepped up beside her from the kitchen counter, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “Lauren –“

She stopped.  “He’s got a fever.  It’s nothing to worry about now, but if I can’t find the damn thermometer and monitor his temperature and it gets worse, it can progress into something worse and he’ll end up in the hospital.  His immune system isn’t strong enough to fight anything more than a minor fever.  Not at home.  He’d need to be hooked up to fluids and medications and all these monitors.”

“Is it from me taking him here?”  Justin looked panicked as Lauren looked up at him from searching her bag.  “Is it from him being in the car for a while?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m sure he’s been feeling pretty shitty the last few days and he being so weak is just quickening it.  Don’t worry, Justin; getting him away from the apartment was the best thing you could do for him.”  She found the thermometer, hitting it against her hand as she looked at both adults staring back at her.  “He’s probably just warm from being tired and the weather.  He should be fine.”

“I hope so.” “I’ll make him soup and bring it up,” Lynn offered as Lauren smiled appreciatively at her.  “Draw him a bath, too; that usually works with bringing a fever down.”

Lauren smiled at her, appreciating the woman’s suggestion but already knowing it.  “Thanks, Mrs. Harless.”  Grabbing her bag and balancing it on her shoulder, she held the thermometer in one hand and heading towards his room once more, hearing his movements from just a few steps in.   “Took you long enough,” he murmured with a slight tease to his voice.  “Have some troubles?  And where’s my soup?  You’re a bad maid.”

She chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed by his hip and tapping his chin for him to open his mouth.  “I don’t have the fancy-schmancy ear thermometer from the hospital, so you are stuck with this one.  Don’t move your tongue until it beeps.”  She placed it underneath his tongue and told him to close his mouth, getting up and closing the curtains to keep the heat circulated in the room and keep the cool air out. 

“Thiph tafes lie meffal.”

She laughed, turning to look at him.  “Don’t talk and wait for it to beep, JC.  Then you can tell me what nonsense you just tried to say to me.” He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked up at the ceiling, annoyed with the small contraption hanging out of his mouth.  When it beeped, he spit it out, the device falling to his chest.  “I said ‘this tastes like metal’.”

“Good, ‘cause I was wondering if I had missed what exactly ‘meffal’ was.”

“Funny.”

She smirked, reaching down and taking the thermometer off of his chest and looking at the digital screen.  101.8; a little more than low-grade.  “All right, Chasez, it’s time to shove your ass in the shower.”

“You know, for a nurse, you sure talk dirty.”

She shook her head, reaching for the blankets and pulling them off of him as he shivered against the cool air to his body.  “Up and at ‘em, kid.”

“Kid?  I’m older than your twenty-something ass.”

She chuckled.  “Well, then, up and at ‘em, old fart.”

He groaned.  “I think I liked being called ‘kid’ better.”
“Just get into the bathroom.” He slowly shuffled into the bathroom next to his room, muffling a cough as he blindly reached for the light switch, squinting at the bright fluorescents that bounced off of the tiled walls.  “Am I showering or do I have to be in a girly bath?”

“Well, seeing as you have a fever and you are swaying as we speak, I think the girly bath is in the cards for you.”

“Figured,” he mumbled, reaching down and lifting his shirt off of his body and sighing deeply.

She tried to ignore the inward gasp that nearly escaped her throat as she took in just how skinny he had become; his arms nearly a third of what they had once been.  All of his muscle tone seemed to have disappeared in just a few short weeks and he nearly vanished as he turned sideways before her.  “I’ll take your clothes,” she said softly, he eyeing her in confusion.  “You don’t have to get naked in front of me; just give me your pajama bottoms and I’ll take the t-shirt with them to the laundry.”

She saw the flush across his cheeks redden even more so than with the fever.  “I uh, don’t have any underwear on.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, he giving her a slight shrug.  “I won’t look.  Just, draw the bath and toss them to the door and I’ll grab them on my way out.”

He nodded, waiting for her to turn around as he slowly pushed the cotton of his pajama bottoms down over his hips and let them pool at his feet.  He stepped into the tub, not even starting the water yet and closed the curtain slightly, tossing the bottoms to her.  When he heard the door click shut, he reached forward, turning the water temperature to as hot as he could get it, already shaking from being so cold.  He hoped it was just because the bathroom was cold and not from the fever; he hated fever shakes.



As his luck would have it, the hot bath did not help at all.  He could not keep himself warm and was pretty sure that he had run the Harless’ water bill up for the entire month in just one day.  He had sipped hot chicken broth the entire day, taken at least five hot baths, two hot showers (though he ended up sitting about two minutes in) and had layered as many t-shirts as he could put on before putting on his heaviest sweatshirt, along with whatever bottoms he could find.  It also was being aided by three extra handmade quilts – all of which heavier than his sweatshirt.

He was beginning to feel faint.  Of course this would happen.  Of course it would happen the one week where Justin wanted to take him away from all the sights of the apartment, of the hospital.  Of course he’d get sick and the promise of a hospital visit was probably in order the day he came home!

Of fucking course.

He closed his eyes.  Maybe not the greatest idea when the equilibrium is off-balance.  Opening his eye slowly, he swallowed the lump forming in his throat lower into his chest, willing it to continue its trek downward.  “Just breathe, Chasez,” he murmured, clenching his mouth shut and breathing loudly in and out through his nose.  “It was 3AM, he could manage this for another few hours while the rest of the household slept.  “Breathe,” he repeated, swallowing once more. 

He had been here only 24 hours.  24 hours and he already felt like he had been hit by a Mack Truck.

The room began to spin.  Not only did he feel like he was going to fall into a black hole, but the black hole had a spiraled slide for him to fall into it with.  His stomach roared.  His body was freezing.  His heart felt as if it were going to jackhammer out of his chest.  He needed the toilet, he needed to -

He flew upward, grabbing the trashcan that had been sitting next to the night stand and wretched into it.  Nothing came out except the broth, and even then, he felt as if he were throwing up the air from his toes up.  He felt heavy, like lead.   Once finished, he put the trashcan down, pulling the blankets away from himself regretfully and standing.  He needed to brush his teeth and rid his mouth of the taste of stomach acid.  He needed another hot bath. 

He needed to find his bearings.

He paused, eyes fluttering shut as the world moved around him, he losing all sense of his equilibrium.


Justin startled from his sleep as he heard a loud crash, nearly diving at his door as he ran down the hall, Lauren at his heels as he pushed the door open to JC’s room, panicking when he saw him lying on the floor in a heap.  “JC!”

“Justin, go get a warm cloth for his head,” Lauren commanded, pushing him away from his friend as she knelt down, putting a hand to his head and gasping at how hot it felt.  “And call the emergency room number that is in my phone and let them know we’re taking him in.  He needs to be hooked up to monitors.”

Justin nodded, eyes wide as Lynn and Paul opened up their bedroom door as he shot out of JC’s worried and confused.  “We have to take him to the hospital.  His fever got worse and he just passed out on the floor …”

“Jace, honey,” Lauren said softly, patting his cheeks as she watched his lashes flutter at her voice.  “C’mon, look at me.”

He struggled for a moment, weakly holding his eyelids open long enough to catch her gaze.  “Am I all right?”

She chuckled slightly, arranging herself so that his head was in her lap, she reaching upward and grabbing the blanket off of his bed and tucking it underneath his body to preserve what heat he had.  “I should be the one asking that.”

He swallowed, nodding.  “I fainted.  I got dizzy.”

“How long have you felt dizzy?”

“Just a few minutes,” he said, licking his lips.  “I threw up.  Got out of bed to brush my teeth and that’s when I fell.”

“You threw up?  How many times?”

“Just once,” he stated, “right before I attempted to walk like a normal human being and not just pass out within one step taken …”

“It’s the fever, is all,” she said, hand reaching up and absently running her hand across his skin.  “Probably pretty dehydrated.  We’ll take you down to the hospital and let them get some fluids pumped into you and you’ll be good as new.”

“The only way I want to spend Christmas.”

“Hey, you get to spend it with me, you know.  Your favorite nurse.”

He smirked, opening his eyes slightly once more and looking up at her.  “The only good thing that involves hospitals is knowing you are there.”

She felt her heart flutter at his honesty, giving him a warm smile as Justin came back into the room, confused at their calmness and his panic.  “Help me help me up, would you?”

He shoved her phone in his pocket, nodding quickly as she got one arm around her shoulders and Justin took the other arm.  “They are expecting us shortly.”

“Good,” she nodded, JC’s head heavily leaning onto her shoulder as they helped him down the stairs and into Justin’s SUV, letting him lie down in the back with the blanket still firmly wrapped around him.

Justin clenched the steering wheel, right foot pressed to the accelerator and left foot shaking up and down in nervousness.  “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

Lauren looked at him with a sad smile, shrugging.  “I’m just hoping it’s the fever that has got him like this and not an infection.  It’s the difference between a day or two and an undetermined amount of time in the hospital.  That, and a lot more medications.”

“Infection?  What kind of infection?!”

“Hush, he’s finally asleep,” she said softly, trying to calm him.  “It could be because his white blood cell count is horribly low and his body can’t fight infection.  The fever could have upgraded itself to pneumonia.  It could even have turned into –“  She stopped, licking her lips and looking out the passenger window.  “How far is this hospital?”

“We’re almost there now,” he mumbled.  “It could even have turned into what, Lauren?”

“A full-blown infection,” she said softly, “which means he’s too weak to fight the leukemia and he may need a bone marrow transplant.”

Justin felt his stomach fall to his feet as he swallowed roughly.  “No.  It’s not that.  It won’t ever be that.”

“Justin, we have to be prepared for the worst, you know that.”

“No!”  He slammed his hands on the wheel, pressing harder on the accelerator.  “It isn’t that!”

She grew quiet, feeling the pain radiate from Justin over to her as she closed her eyes sadly.  Saying a silent prayer, she asked for the same thing: for JC to be anywhere but in the transplant territory.


“It was a good thing you did bring him in when you did,” Dr. Morrison said as he looked at Justin as Lauren walked past him and into the room where JC lie asleep.  “He is in the beginnings of pneumonia; his lungs are rattling and he has begun to wheeze, but as long as we keep him in observation and continue to give him medications, he should pull through without any complications … except possibly being here on Christmas.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” Justin stated, looking at the Dr. and then at JC and Lauren.  “So, he doesn’t need a transplant?  His marrow is okay?  No infections?”

“Besides the pneumonia, JC is the same as he was before you left,” he stated.  He looked at his clipboard, lifting up papers and studying JC’s own medical file.  “Dr. Kleinfield cleared him for the trip and there is no reason for you to not have one once he is well enough to be taken home.  How long were you intending on staying?”

“Only for the week,” he said, shrugging.  “We can always stay longer if that’s what he wants, but I’d prefer to be near his own doctor’s and the cancer facility.” “Which is a good idea, even if he was pretty healthy to begin with,” Dr. Morrison agreed.  “We’re going to keep him a few days; probably until the 24th in the mid-afternoon to make sure he’s okay; if he is, with your homecare nurse here, we can send him home to be observed and watched over.”

Justin nodded.  “Thank you.”  He walked past the doctor, sitting down at the foot of JC’s bed.  “Pneumonia.”

Lauren nodded.  “I heard him say that.  He’ll be fine.”

“You guys talk too much.”

Both people looked over, smiling as JC opened his eyes slightly and took in their relieved faces.  “Go get a coffee or something, huh?  You both look like shit.”

“That is the best compliment I have ever been given,” Lauren chuckled, “Best thing to say to a woman, I think.”

“You know you do,” JC murmured, gesturing towards the door.  “Take bed-head with you.”

“Hey now.  Your dramatic fall to the floor is what got me in the form I am in now!”

“Well, go to the gift shop, by a comb and get that hair under control,” he teased, yawning deeply.  “Leave me alone so I can go back to sleep.  You two talking doesn’t help anything.”

Within moments of the two leaving, Dr. Morrison entered, giving him a small smile.  “Well, good morning, Joshua,” he greeted, setting the clipboard to the front of the bed as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the flashlight and checking his eyes.  “Can we have a chat for a few moments while your friend and your nurse are gone?”

He nodded, watching as the doctor pulled up the chair beside the bed and reached back to the front of the bed for the clipboard.  “So you’ve been battling AML for the past three months?”

He nodded.  “I got diagnosed September 8th.”

“Not many issues with it?”

“Other than nightmares and depression, no.  Well, that and not wanting to talk to anyone.”

“That comes with depression,” Dr. Morrison responded.  “Did Dr. Kleinfield ask if you would like to be treated for the depression?”

“And add to my seven medications I already take,” JC arched an eyebrow at the amused doctor, “no thanks.  I deal with it as it comes.  Sometimes it may not be the best day, but I’m working on it.”

“What about complications?  Are you in pain?”

“Daily.  I have medication for that, also.”

“What about other complications?  You haven’t had extended stays in the hospital?”

“Other than the third round of chemo that left me so severely dehydrated from throwing up so much that I ended up in the hospital for four days, I’ve been pretty lucky.  Oh, and this little charade.”

“JC, can we speak seriously for a moment about your disease?”

He lowered an eyebrow, looking at his fingers.  “I thought we already were.”

“We are looking at it in a present standpoint,” he stated, setting his pen down and looking at the younger man, “I want to look at it in the future.”

“O-okay?”

“If a complication should arise and you are to be found incapacitated, have you thought about getting a Patient’s Advocate?” “An Advocate?”

“Yes.”

“To what?”

“To be the one to make decisions if you are not able to.”

He shook his head.  “I’ve never been asked to consider one.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

He looked up at the doctor and then back at the doorway, frowning.  “Justin Timberlake.”

“What is his relation to you?”

“Friend.  He has also been taking care of me when I can’t do it myself.”

“It is preferred to be a family member –“

“I want him to make the decisions,” JC pressed.  “Just put him down, please.”

Dr. Morrison began to make notes, speaking as he wrote, “What about resuscitation decisions?  Do you want life-saving measures taken?”

He swallowed.  “I haven’t really thought about it.  I mean, I don’t want to die …” 

“We’ll keep you as heroic measures, then.  And what about a living will?  Have you drawn up one of those?”

“Written and notarized,” he sighed.  “I’ve had it done for years; had to with my job and being on planes so much.”

“You may want to make sure it is updated, Mr. Chasez.”

He nodded.  “I will.”

“I’m going to fax these forms to Dr. Kleinfield and I’ll let you rest.”

He sighed, leaning back into the pillow.  How was he supposed to rest when they were planning out his death?