"Jace, you around?"

He opened his eyes, willing them to remain open as he swallowed, mouth dry. "In the bedroom down the hall, J," he called quietly, the apartment quiet save his voice and Justin moving around in the foyer. He heard the jingle of keys and he tossed them to the island counter, shoes falling to the floor in a thunk as he threw them to the corner and then his padded feet going down the hallway covered only in hardwood. "You have trouble getting it without me there?"

Justin shook his head. "Nah, used my good old Southern Boy charm and nearly got myself a date with a woman old enough to be my Nana."

JC shook his head as Justin set his prescription down on the table, he sitting down on the chair across from him with a serious look on his face. "What, J?"

"You scared?"

"Of taking the pills? Well, at least they aren't shots like I was told about at home ..."

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, licking his lips nervously as he gathered his thoughts. "Are you scared of the leukemia?"

JC nodded without a thought, not wanting to have to lie to anyone else. "J," he said, bringing the younger man to look at him, "are you sure you really wanna be around for this? I mean, I'm gonna be sick a lot, I'm probably gonna be balding within the next few weeks and I really don't think I'm gonna be pleasant come the time this medication begins to kick in ..."

"And you're pleasant now?" Justin grinned at him, teasing him as he did way back when. "Jace, I'm here to help, regardless of what mood, what shape you're in. You can't battle this alone and I know you know that." His mood immediately sobered as he saw the darkness sweep across JC's face as he nodded, shaking his head. "I've seen what it does to the kids that we've visited at St. Jude's, at other Oncology Units. I've seen the pain, I've seen the baldness. Do you really think I'm gonna hightail it out of here because it's you? No. I'm rooted to this apartment, to that clinic, to whatever hospital it is that they send you to for your treatments. I'm gonna be there to take you, to sit with you until the treatment is done and then I'm gonna be there handing you the trash can when you're throwing up and force feeding you chicken brother because I can and I will and it's my right to do so."

"Look, Justin," he said, biting his lip as he struggled to pull himself up weakly into a sitting position, leaning up against the headboard and shutting off the television so the only light was the small lamp that illuminated both men's skins to a deep yellow glow, "I appreciate this. I really do. But I'm not going to be mad if you leave; in fact, I'd understand it -"

"I'm not leaving, Chasez," Justin said, shrugging as his mouth formed a straight line in a tone that he had only heard Justin use once to Chris when he was being a stubborn fool. "You don't abandon family when they need you."

"When we fought -"

"Jace, that's done and over with," Justin said, holding his hands up to silence him, "I washed my hands clean of it and dismissed it as you and I being stressed and stuck in a bad point in our lives. I'm not dismissing our friendship -"

Both men jumped as Justin's phone rang, he looking at the number questioningly. "It's the pharmacy. I gave them my number so they'd call me when it was time for refills, rather than them call you." He picked up the phone, talking to the woman on the other line. "There's more? O-okay, I'll be down as soon as I can to pick them up. Thank you." He ended the call, looking at JC. "I'll be right back. Apparently, Dr. Kleinfield decided that he wasn't going to ease you into it as he had planned and we're diving head first into this. There are three other medications waiting for me at the pharmacy."

JC groaned, hanging his head. "Look, I need to get up out of this apartment. Think you could play chauffeur and take me somewhere so I don't go stir crazy? The silence is deafening."

"And you wanted to do this alone," Justin cracked, nodding in agreement. "C'mon, Chasez, let's go get a late dinner."

"Argh, dinner."

"Okay, let's have some dinner for me and some soup for you," he replied, waiting for JC to pull himself out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over his head. As he saw the man stand up, he exhaled deeply. "Jesus, JC," he murmured, seeing the bone through his friend's t-shirt before he pulled the hoodie over his head. "I knew you lost weight ..."

"Apparently, nine pounds is a lot on a guy my stature," he shrugged, stomach growling against the better judgement of the nausea that still churned along with it. Grab my jacket, would you? I'm fucking freezing ..."

Justin nodded, turning away from his friend as he felt his jaw twitch with emotion. He couldn't turn his back on his friend and let him alone but God, this was going to be rough.

"J?"

He froze mid-grab of the jacket, looking at JC. "Yeah?"

"There's still time to back out of this."

"I'm not." He handed him the jacket, helping him put it on. "Just because you're weak and exhausted right now doesn't mean I won't kick your nagging ass."

"I could take you sitting on my bed," he murmured, Justin cracking a smile as the two walked down the hallway, putting on their shoes and heading outside towards Justin's car.

"It'll just be a few minutes," Justin said, looking at JC as he nodded. "D'you want anything while I'm in there? Magazines? Something to help you sleep tonight?"

"Get me some ginger ale," he murmured, "or clear soda; whatever kind they have. Couple of magazines would be good." He watched Justin get out of the car, he sighing deeply. "And maybe a healthy body."

Within ten minutes, Justin was crossing the front of the car with a bag in hand. "They had Ginger Ale, got three magazines, some Nyquil to help you sleep and three economic-sized bottles of medication. We're off."

JC sighed, the thought of popping five pills daily bothering him. "Can we just go home? I'm really not wanting to be out anymore."

"Bull," Justin said, smirking. "We're going to Denny's. I'm dying for a Grand Slam and I know they have Chicken Noodle Soup."

"Fine," he mumbled, crossing his arms and looking outside the window. "Whatever you say."

"And people say I should hire a private nurse for your stubborn ass," he grinned, putting the car into reverse and bringing them out of the parking lot before heading towards the restaurant a few miles back down the road."


"You look like you're going to fall asleep where you sit."

JC looked up at his friend, shrugging lazily. "Even if I tried, right now, it wouldn't work. I'd wake up within two minutes. My mind is going a million miles and hour right now and I can't seem to stop it."

"Can I get you two gentlemen anything?"

Justin looked up at the woman, leaning forward with his arms on the table. "He'll take a hot tea, preferably the decaffeinated if you have it. I'll have a coffee, black."

"Sure thing," she smiled, writing it down and disappearing before JC could protest.

"I'm sick, not unable to order for myself," he said lowly as Justin shrugged, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a piece of paper out. "Pharmacist gave this to me to let you read. It's the drug information."

"Right now, I don't even want to hold that piece of paper."

Justin smiled sadly, opening it up and reading it aloud so JC could hear what exactly he was putting in his body. "All right, so we have the one I picked up already: Mercaptopurine; it says that you have to take this on an empty stomach. It's only 25 milligrams ... not bad. Side effects are rare, but as with all drugs, there are some -"

"Doctor said I may lose my hair on that one."

Justin looked up, frowning as he watched his friend peel back the placemat. "Then there is Zyloprim; you won't start taking it until you start chemo so it can prevent increased uric acid levels and you won't develop gout or kidney problems -"

"Yeah, let's give me some kidney problems. 'Hey kid, you have Leukemia! How about adding some kidney failure on top of that?!"

"Jace," Justin said softly, watching him shake his head sadly. "Sorry. Go on."

"Oh hey, he gave you Oxy's!"

JC's head shot up, seeing all the other patrons looking on as if they were speaking drug-selling. "Talk louder, Timberlake, damn ..."

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Obviously, a pain reliever. For the ... pain."

"Obviously."

Justin looked on the paper, shrugging. "Okay, so maybe I lied; you only got three meds."

"Four, counting the Mercaptopurine."

"Well, yeah," he nodded. "There are only four listed so maybe that's what they meant when I picked it up. Hey, look on the bright side, you just lost one med."

"Excuse me if I don't jump up and down for joy, but I am too tired to do so."

Justin frowned, looking up as the waitress set down the coffee and tea in front of both men, eyeing them cautiously. "Are you guys ready to order?"

"I'll have the Grand Slam," Justin began as JC groaned, he looking over at his friend and seeing the green slowly crawl up his neck onto his face. "Jace?"

He clapped his hand on his mouth, getting up as fast as he could and disappearing towards the bathrooms.

"Bring me whatever for the breakfast and if you have something with broth, that's what he'll take," Justin said quickly, sliding out of his booth seat and following quickly behind his sick friend. "Jace?"

"Can we go home, please?"

Justin raised an eyebrow, leaning forward and looking under the stalls for his friend. "Yeah, of course ..." He located JC's tennis shoes, knocking on the stall before pushing it open. "You okay?"

"Dry heaves," he muttered, "I've thrown up so much that all it's been the last two times was air."

"And you haven't even started your meds yet."

"I can only imagine the fun I'll have in the bathroom with the toilet. I feel as if I should name it since it and I will be hanging out often."

"Good to see that even while nauseous, you have somewhat of a humor."

"Porky. Porky the Porcelain Bowl."

"Okay, it's really time to get you home, man," Justin chuckled, gripping JC's elbow and helping him to the counter, he waiting patiently as the older man splashed cold water to his face. "Why don't you go to the car and I'll get our food packed up? It shouldn't be too long ... try and sleep a few winks in the car."

Too tired to fight, JC took Justin's keys, his feet dragging tiredly with each step he took. "If I drool on your seats, it's not my fault."

Justin grinned, shaking his head. He remembered on tour, at the points of severe delirium and exhaustion, JC would always be found in his bunk with an arm tucked under his head, mouth wide open with his own little pond underneath his wrist. Some things did not change, even with age.


"You think you'll make it into your room without passing out in the hallway?"

JC mumbled a response, waving off his friend as Justin grinned, setting his keys down. "You think you're gonna be able to sleep?"

"Not with Nyquil," he murmured. "Do me a favor and just hit me over the head and knock me out. It'll be a good sleep ... promise." His voice was fading as he slowly made his way into his room, the door creaking as he opened it. "I need sleeping pills."

And then he remembered. When he and Jessica broke up, a week later his grandfather got really ill and he was unable to sleep. The doctor gave him a mild sleeping aid and if he recalled, he had it in his messenger bag still.

"Genius," he murmured, walking hurriedly into the room he was staying in and dumping all the contents out, seeing the familiar pill bottle and walked into JC's room, seeing the older man pulling the hoodie off as he sat, leaning up against the bedframe. Once the heavier top was off, he could see him struggling to keep his neck straight. "Okay, so I might have a remedy for you," he stated, stepping into the room as JC looked over at him, confused. "When Papa got sick, doc gave me Ambien."

"What the hell is Ambien? Anti-Depressant?"

Justin shook his head, a smile forming as JC tilted his head, curiosity making him look like a puzzled dog. Well ... kind of. "It's a sleeping aid. Take one, you're knocked out for at least 8 hours."

He reached for Justin's hand, taking the pill bottle and reading the label. "Don't mind if I do ..." He opened it, spilling one into his hand and knocking it back and swallowing it dryly. "Thanks, J."

He watched his friend make himself comfortable, he shifting from foot to foot as he set the pill bottle down on the night stand. "C?"

"Yes, Justin," he asked sleepily, "what can I do for you?"

"I'm not going to back out of this," he said softly, watching as JC pried his tired eyes open, "but I am scared to witness it all."

JC nodded. "So am I," he sighed deeply, Justin hearing the sloshing of saliva and then the watery click as he swallowed it down. He was clenching his jaw, staring blankly ahead with half-lidded eyes. "J, I don't wanna die ..."

Justin felt his eyes water, he leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm not gonna let that happen, okay? Money is not an issue, neither is traveling far and wide to find the best treatment to get you into remission, okay? I'm not gonna let you die on me. You're gonna be 90 with grandchildren asking you about the time you were sick - not my grandchildren asking me what happened to my best friend when I'm 90. This ... we're gonna beat this. Hell, we beat the biggest asshole in the world, I think we can beat one miniscule disease."

"Yeah, Lou really was an asshole, huh?"

"Jace, I think we would still have been on that label when we went on hiatus if it hadn't of been for you seeing something and taking it to Lance. We'd probably be broke as hell right now."

"Fucker got what he deserved."

"Amen," Justin said softly. He watched his friend take in a shaky breath, eyes closed gently against his cheekbones. "Just remember what I said, okay? You're not gonna die on me. It'll be over my dead body."

"Don't wish that on yourself," he murmured, unable to keep his eyes open anymore. "I would never wish this or death upon anyone. Even asshole."

Justin smiled. "I'll let you sleep, Jace. I'll see you in the morning." When JC gave no response, he stood for a few moments, swallowing roughly as he watched his friend finally fall into a slumber that he knew he hadn't had in at least a few days ... maybe more. He reached over, grabbing the pill bottle, turning the table lamp off and leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft, satisfying click.

He walked into the bathroom, hands shaking as he shut the door and locked it behind him. Turning the shower on to the hottest setting he could, he stripped of his shirt and leaned up against the counter, meeting his own pale and tired reflection. "J, I don't wanna die ..."

He released a shaky breath, turning the faucet on and splashing his own helping of cold water to his cheeks, the words still echoing in his head. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die ...

He felt a dry sob escape his mouth, his emotions finally running away with him as the seriousness of it all finally slammed into him like a freight train, nailing him directly in the chest as all the air in his lungs whooshed out on impact. His friend, who was only a room (save the linen closet between them) away was fighting the battle of his life, soon to be popping pill after pill, sitting hour upon hour during a chemo drip and there he was, reassuring him empty promises. What if he didn't make it? What if he spited him on his death bed because he didn't hold up his end of the bargain?

A hot, fat tear rolled down his cheek as he clumsily swiped it away, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he tried to maintain his breathing. Once his finally did, the rest of his clothing met the shirt in a crumpled mess on the floor, he stepped into the near-scalding water, the thoughts coming back ten-fold, suffocating him as he sunk to the floor of the shower, bringing his knees to his chest as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in a sad attempt to keep the tears away.

He'd hate himself forever if something horrible happened to him. Selfishly, he'd hate the man he looked up to as an older brother for not fighting harder, longer.

And that was what made him hate himself more; he wasn't God, he couldn't make those promises ... how could God even fight something like that? If there was something modern medicine couldn't do, why would God? If there were answers and He knew that He wanted people to find the answers to, then they would.

God, he hoped he got some sort of answer.