He blew out a nervous breath as he sat in the uncomfortable waiting chair, fidgeting all the way from his toes up to his head. Toes tapping, ankle shaking, body shaking ... he was pretty sure he could feel the floor shake beneath him from his tiny tremors. He had been a bundle of nerves when he had called Dr. Kleinfield, a doctor that Dr. Cohen had recommended to him the moment he clicked onto the line and knew it was JC.

"Dr. Kleinfield comes extremely recommended, Joshua," Dr. Cohen had insisted, "I have nothing but high hopes for your diagnosis; we caught it just in time before it could really do damage to your immune system ... though it sounds like it is starting to," he noted. "I assume you've been feeling sick and weak, yes? You're just in time to start getting treatments and chemo. You have a great chance at beating this, son; you're young, in shape and very healthy otherwise. I just wish you wouldn't have waiting so long to call me to get his number ..."

Now, here he was, sitting in a waiting room in an unfamiliar town with not one familiar face there to support him. But that was his fault.

"Joshua Scott?"

He swallowed, hearing the woman call his name, he dropping Chasez to continue his anonyminity. He got up slowly, stomach lurching as he followed the woman down the hall, tired eyes squinting against the bright flourescents. Following her into the room, she gestured towards the table and handed him a paper gown. He scrunched his nose up in distaste as she chuckled, catching his eye. When he lifted an eyebrow in question, she shrugged.

"It's not that stylish, is it?"

He shook his head slightly as she patted his shoulder. "Change into that and I'll be back in five short minutes to take your vitals, okay? Dr. K wants to do a thorough exam."

He nodded, thankful that she had left him alone even for a few minutes. Though it had finally settled that this was really happening, it hadn't really sunk into that settling feeling until he looked around at all the charts that gave definitions of different cancers and treatments - all including radiation and chemotherapy.

It occurred to him briefly that this is what his life would be; medication after medication, treatment after treatment - but he had forgotten about the whole 'losing your hair' part, even though he had thought of it when he was first diagnosed. Selfishly, he was now praying that his hair was one of the last things to go; he didn't care about being sick if he could keep his hair ...

He sat down, slowly pushing his arms through the holes and leaned back, already tired from his walk and moving to change. He hoped that wasn't permanent, either.

A gentle knock, followed by the door slowly opening, reintroduced him to the nurse that had taken him there. "You okay?"

He closed his eyes, nodding as he felt her presence close in on him as she sat down at the station beside him, setting his file down. "Tired, nauseous ... you know, the norm."

She placed a hand ontop of his, he jumping slightly at the warmth radiating from her skin to his as he opened his eyes, meeting her gentle gaze. "Dr. K is a great oncologist, Josh," she stated warmly, "I have no doubt he'll pull you through this."

He swallowed roughly, fighting back the emotions he had been able to hide so well until her compassion was targeted at him. "I hope so."

"I know so," she nodded, turning back to his file as she read it over. "All right, so let's get your blood pressure and check all your vitals and that's the last you'll see of me today."

"I wish that was all I'd see of today," he murmured as she chuckled, patting his arm gently. "Think he could prescribe me something strong to knock me out until I'm in remission?"

"If only it were that easy," she responded, smiling weakly as he groaned. Pulling the velcro apart, she smiled, "blood pressure is normal; well, slightly elevated, but I think that's because of the nerves." She wrote down a few notes, glancing over at his face. "How are your gums? Not bleeding or anything with brushing or feeling as if they're taking up your entire mouth?" She checked his heart and listened to him breathe as he waited to speak, then proceeding to check his eyes.

He shook his head, eyes falling closed again against the bright lights. "Basically, I'm tired, throw up at the mention of anything, which, by the way, you're lucky to not be witnessing it right now; I also feel as if I'm lead and everything is way too heavy for me. Oh, and I can't sleep. I'm past the point of exhaustion right now."

"I can see it in your face you are," she frowned. "Well, I'm sure Dr. K will try and remedy that."

"I really don't think he can," he mumbled, "my brain is going a million miles a minute and I can barely keep up."

She patted his knee as she stood, setting his file on the table. "Dr. K will be in shortly."

He murmured a response, hearing her close the door with a soft click. He knew it'd be longer than 'shortly' for the doctor to enter, he already antsy enough as it was. Pushing upward, he sat up, reaching for his medical file. "Another entertaining read," he mumbled, reading through half-lidded eyes.

Patient: Chasez, Joshua Scott
I.D. No.: 0918313062

He snapped the file shut as he heard a male voice approaching, throwing the file back onto the table as he stared straight ahead. Had he really lost nine pounds? He had obviously had a pretty rapid weight loss while touring with all the dancing and singing for hours on end, but he always noticed the pounds that were missing on his otherwise small frame.

"Knock, knock."

He jumped, startled at the husky, balding man standing in front of him. "Sorry, I guess I was daydreaming. As odd as that sounds ..."

The man smiled, shrugging it off. "Happens to the best of us," he reassured, thrusting his hand out to shake. "I'm Dr. Kleinfield. So you're the patient that Dr. Cohen pressed me into having, huh?"

"Well, gee, sorry about the burden ..."

Dr. Kleinfield laughed. "I didn't mean in that way," he said, "I just meant that we have a limited capacity but he insisted I see you. That Dr. Cohen is pretty good at groveling," he smirked. "He's an old college buddy, of course I would have taken over your case."

"Dr. Kleinfield," JC said slowly, feeling his body begin to slump underneath him from holding himself up for so long, "I'd love to continue the small talk, but can we get this done as quickly as possible? And possibly with a prescription of some medication that can knock me out?"

"You are really into wanting that sleep, aren't you? Nurse Lauren said you would be."

"Lauren?"

"She was that happy nurse taking your vitals, Joshua. Said you were speaking of wanting sleeping pills," he laughed. "It'll get slightly better, Joshua; most people who are diagnosed go through an insomniac-state and a shock-state. Once it becomes routine, hopefully not a long routine, sleep becomes welcoming."

"Oh, joy ..."

Dr. Kleinfield tapped his pen, reviewing the file in his hands. "AML is a relatively uncommon form of Leukemia, Joshua, but I really do have a good feeling about this. Your chart said it is pretty much just out of the beginning stage and Dr. Truman was right in sending your blood for further testing. I am going to put you on Mercaptopurine to start off with and would like to schedule induction for the beginning of next week. Preferably on Monday. I would like the Mercaptopurine to have been in your system for about a week to regulate and see if we can't get the cancer cells from producing or at least slow them down. I would suggest you not going anywhere after you take the pill since it will make you tired and possibly quite nauseous but it is quite effective ..."

"Great," he mumbled, "more sickness. This whole being sick thing is just not my cup of tea." He sighed deeply, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And what is this induction that you are speaking of? Introduction to more medication?"

"It's chemotherapy, Joshua. It's success rate has risen majorly since the early '90s and continues to rise. I have more faith in it now than I ever have and I really believe that this is what is going to help you most."

"I'll be getting sick a lot then, I see."

Dr. Kleinfield nodded. "Sadly, that is a side-effect. You may also be more immune to getting sick since we are attacking cells involving your immune system. You may have gastrointestinal distress, such as nausea, vomiting and diarrhea."

"What about hair loss?"

"Unfortunately, that is a side-effect. It is also a side-effect of the Mercaptopurine."

He frowned, mind shutting down as it finally all began to settle completely. He bit his lip, fighting the tears. Dr. Kleinfield continued talking as he looked over his patient file, his words a slow sounding babble as he entered the world of the in-between; he was there, but he wasn't with it. All he wanted to do was sleep, eat, be normal.

He couldn't even pull off being normal anymore. Not after today.

It was an hour later when he finally pulled into the apartment complex, dusk was slowly disappearing and turning into dark. Shadows appeared beneath heavy trees, part of the building and beneath the cars, but as he looked down at his cement-filled shoes that carried his heavy body, he saw his own shadow disappearing into the unknown. He swallowed hard, hoping his future was not so bleak.

Thankful for the elevator and only living on the third floor, he leaned heavily against the railing of the elevator as it seemingly crawled up the three levels to take him to his temporary residence. The moment he stepped foot outside of the small area, he sensed something different about his surroundings. Call it intuition, but he knew there was something off about the environment.

As he turned the corner, his eyes settled on a set of tennis shoes sticking straight up into the air, at rest with the body that was sitting up against the wall little ways down the hall.

Right beside his door.

He licked his chapped lips, squinting as he made out the familiar chisled face and short mop of wavy hair that rested there, head tucked to his chest as he slept. "Justin?" His voice was low and shaky, watching as the man startled awake, jumping to his feet as JC slowly approached him. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you really think I was going to just sit there after you called me?" He asked, stepped forward and attentively, his eyes slowly taking in his older friend's exhaustion written all over his face. "I came to help."

"Justin, the only way you would be able to help was if you, yourself physically removed this disease from me. We both that is not humanly possible."

"But I can help take care of you when need be."

"I don't ... I don't want to be taken care of," he said, shaking his head in frustration. "I don't want to be treated like a child, Justin."

"No one said it'd be like that, C," he said softly, "I just meant that I'd go and get you whatever you needed so you could rest, get stronger; I never meant I'd be hand feeding you and teaching you to talk. God knows you talk enough on your own without anyone's help," he teased, hoping to get even a slight hint of a smile from his friend's face. He failed. "Seriously, Jace ... whatever you need, I'm gonna be here. I'm not leaving. I'm not gonna leave you alone."

"Did you," he licked his lips once more, eyes falling closed as he tried to find his bearings, "did you tell anyone where I was?"

Justin shook his head. "I did talk to your mom. Said that I just knew you were okay. She asked me how, I said I couldn't say, but I knew." When he got a look from his friend, he shrugged, "I know, shitty answer, but I had to tell her something, C. Your family is going nuts right now."

"I know," he said softly. "I just can't bring them into this, though; it'd kill them more than it'll kill me."

"In which it won't."

"In which it won't, what?" JC looked at Justin, watching as the younger man shifted from foot to foot, sniffling slightly as he looked back up, a determined look on his face, though his eyes were glassed over. "Justin?"

"I won't let it kill you," he said finally, "I won't let it take you away now that I've got you back -"

"And as sexual as that seems," JC said, finally smiling slightly, "let's go inside before my neighbors think I'm doing a drug deal or something ..."

Justin nodded, following him in and setting the two bags he had sitting next to him near the door. "Jesus, C, you've been here only a few days and it already looks like hurricane Chasez swept through here."

"I haven't really been in the mood to unpack," he mumbled, stumbling over the box for the coffee table. "Or put shit together, as you can see." He let his body collapse onto the couch, laying his head on the arm of the chair as Justin took the chair across from him. "So are you going to tell me how you found me?"

"Come again?"

"Oh, don't play stupid, Justin," he chuckled, "I know you. What strings did you pull to find me?"

"You told me you were in Tennessee so I went from there. Called a friend of my mom's who worked for the phone service and he found the location of your phone from the tower and as soon as I had a general five to ten mile radius, I just called every place I could think of asking to see if a 'Scott Tyler' had just inhabited one of their rooms or apartments. Tenth one in, I got a match. Asked them if they remembered what you looked like after telling them I was investigating a case for you but had lost contact after the trial ended and I had some new information for you. People are so damn gullible."

"And people call you a mediocre actor," JC half-teased, voice drawing out as he yawned deeply. "Shows how much The Mickey Mouse Club helped you. Or me, for that matter ..."

"I take offense to that."

"Yeah, well, I take offense to Black Snake Moan."

"And I, Killer Movie."

JC smiled, eyes still shut as he lifted a hand, pointing at his friend. "Touche."

"I assume you have room for me, right?"

"Lucky for you, the room in the beginning of the hallway is the beginnings of an office space but has a pull-out."

"My room, it is," he chuckled, picking up the two bags at the door as he disappeared from the living room.

"You have sheets and stuff, right?"

"There should be some somewhere," he nodded. "One of the boxes that are in there."

"I'll look for them. You should probably try and get to sleep, Jace. You might feel better."

"I gotta go pick up my prescription," he mumbled, "they said it'd be ready in a half hour."

"When did you drop it off?"

"Almost an hour ago," he smirked as Justin laughed, picking up his keys that he had tossed carelessly onto the island counter of the kitchen/dining area. "I'll go get it. Under your normal name?"

JC nodded, hearing Justin rustle around only feet away from him. "You really can't get drugs with an alias."

"Figured as much."

The two men stood in silence, JC thinking that Justin had already left, Justin standing by the door, shifting from foot to foot once more. "Jace?"

Startled, JC's eyes popped open, meeting Justin's amused expression. "What, J?"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for that all that shit from before."

JC nodded. "Me too, man; me too."

Justin cleared his throat, a trait that JC knew he did when he was nervous or attempting to find something else to say. "Jace?"

He felt like he was speaking to a child who needed reassuring. Only this child was 28 and he was pretty sure he'd be the one getting reassured. "Yeah, J?"

"I'm glad you called me."

He swallowed roughly, nodding his head slowly. "Me too."