He ran a hand down his face as he pushed open the apartment door, feeling just as exhausted as he was after a world wide tour. In three hours, he managed to see one of his closest friends be panicked, reminisce, fear death and throw up more than he thought anyone could in the second cycle of chemo. Unlike movies, they never showed the outcome of many chemo treatments and an hour and a half into JC's, whatever he had left in his entire digestive system ended up in the pan they had sat next to the bed, ready for a situation that would shortly arise.

As JC was gathering himself at the end of the treatments, weak and wasted, the nurse pulled him aside, warning him that the chemo side effects could end up starting almost immediately and to be ready for the outcome. When he asked what, he hadn't expected her response.

"Hair loss. If he takes a shower, he may start noticing hairs - most of the time, it seems that it's a few hairs here and there, but there are some people who lose clumps at a time. He'll be sick. Really sick. If he spikes a fever, you need to bring him back in as soon as possible. We're not chancing anything with him."

"But a fever could be good, right? It can strengthen his immune system so he can fight the Leukemia -"

"It's actually the opposite, Justin," she said softly, "it will weaken his already weak immune system and he could develop an infection - something we're trying to avoid."

After his treatments, Dr. Kleinfield came in, asking to speak to JC privately. In the half hour he was in the office, Justin was left clueless sitting outside the door, staring at the floor and making imaginary patterns in the black specks on the otherwise white lineoleum tiles. He jumped as the door opened, JC's face slightly flushed and white from the nausea, he knew, but there was something else written on his face that he couldn't quite read.

He hadn't spoken a word since.

"Do you need help getting to your room?"

"I'm sick, not crippled," he snapped, holding his hand up to stop him from nearing him, weakly shrugging off his zip-up hoodie and tossing it to the couch as he slowly disappeared down the hall, closing the door behind him.

He knew that his own patience within himself was wearing thin, he was never one who could wait around for results for long, nor could he do anything about it. He had always been a hands-on, get down and dirty guy who had always tried to figure a way out of things or to make things easier for himself and others so the stress level would drop. This was something he couldn't fix; his stress level had to be through the roof already.

He sat down, putting his keys and cell phone on the (assembled) coffee table and dropped his head back to the cushions, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. He startled, hearing the beep of his cell phone as he leaned forward, seeing that it was from his mom.

How is he?

He exhaled, unaware that he had taken another breath and held it. He hated lying to his friend, but he had to tell someone. He knew his mother trusted him to do what he felt was right, knew that eventually, if JC wouldn't, Justin would be the one to make the calls to his family. It was wrong to keep it from them but they both understood his intentions. He never wanted to hurt people and if he could, he'd try his best to shield them from whatever harm it was that was inflicting him or would them. But he knew, he knew that even though he thought it was for the best, the later he told, the worse it would be.

He's OK. Did his first round of chemo and got really sick. Dr. called him in the office and he's been distant since. I think he told him something.

He set his phone down, lying down on the couch and bringing his knees up slightly towards his chest as he closed his eyes. In all honesty, he hadn't slept the entire night before the treatments; he scared of what was going to happen and what he was going to have to witness. Now that all was said and done, his eyes did not want to stay open.

Maybe a few minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt."J, what are you doing?"

He turned his head, looking over at Joey as Lance and Chris stood behind him, skeptical looks on their faces. "What? What do you mean? Where did you guys come from?"

"We've been here all day with you, Justin," Chris said softly, his eyes traveling around them, looking everywhere but at him. "We all flew in this morning."

"But ... why?"

"J," Joey said his voice shaky but low, "what are you doing?"

"What -" he froze mid-question, watching as Joey grabbed his wrist gently, peeling the single yellow rose out of his hand. "What the -"

"You've been standing here for over an hour by yourself."

Suddenly, it was as if a dark curtain was raised around them, he taking in the clouds, the dark suits, the somber faces. "Where's C?"

"Justin -"

"No, Lance, where is JC?!"

Lance bit his lip, looking on either side of him, waiting to see if the other two would answer. They both stood, frozen. "Justin, he's -"

"Tell me where he is!"

"JC's dead, Justin," Chris finally snapped, Justin's head snapping in the direction of his voice. "He died. Two days ago. Remember?!"

He shook his head, disbelief rippling throughout his body as a sob escaped his mouth. "No! How could he have died?! I was just ... I was just with him for his treatment and I -"

"You were there for the procedures in the beginning, Justin. You hired a private nurse when you had to go back to work, remember? You couldn't be there anymore."

He licked his lips. "How ... how long was I gone?"

"Six months."

A shocked gasp escaped his mouth as he ran a hand over his forehead, trying to make sense of it all. "I was just there; I swear, I was just with him ..."

"We all were," Lance said softly, "in spirit, anyway. He didn't want us there. Didn't want us to see him like that."

"I was there! I would have been there! I am there!"

"Justin, you're not making any sense ..."

"Look! I don't know what you three are talking about, but he's alive, I swear to Christ he is! He had his first treatment today, got sick and went to bed because he was upset. I checked on him and he was snoring! Snoring! He's not dead!"

All three men cringed as Justin threw the rose, it landing against the ground with a loud thunk.

Justin paused, looking down on the ground where the rose had landed.

A loud thunk.

Thunk.

... What?!

He jolted upwards from his horizontal position, darkness enveloping him. He had slept longer than anticipated. "JC?" His voice came out low and raspy, burdened with sleep. "JC, you awake?"

Another loud thunk followed his question, whatever was at the receiving end of the sound bringing a loud, shattering sound to his ears. "JC!" Getting up quickly, he barreled his way into the older man's bedroom, the look of pure fire and ice raging in his eyes. Anything that his capable hands could get a hold of, was now shattered on the floor around him or as rumpled at his feet. Everything that had been sitting on the dresser had joined everything on the floor. "What happened," he asked, trying not to grow an accusatory tone within his words. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?! Do I really look okay to you?!"

"JC," Justin said softly, watching as the older man began to crumple, his legs playing the part of an accordion as his entire body fell to a heap with an exhausted sob. "God, you're bleeding ..." He disappeared into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and running warm water onto it, rubbing a bit of soap through it to clean the wound. What had happened?

He stepped back into the room, intaking a sharp breath as the disaster really stood out to his distraught friend. "Here," he said softly, careful to not step on the broken cologne bottles and glass from the mirror that rested against the dresser. When he shakily accepted the towel, Justin sank down in the cleanest spot he could find closest to him, studying his face. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"The pillow."

He could only see the side of his face, saw the crows feet grow more prominent as he intensely stared at the cut he had accidentally given himself in the middle of his rage in the palm of his hand. His eyes had grown darker, nearly hiding the whites of his eyes, skin hinting at a gray cast. He was in there ... this body, it was just the shell of what he was.

Wasn't. What he wasn't.

"Jace, what about the pillow?"

"Look at it."

He licked his lips, already knowing the outcome of his observation. Pulling up, he cast his eyes to the pillow cased by a light blue cover, dark brown hairs littering it as if he had just gotten his head shaved. There wasn't a lot, but with JC's head of hair, it was enough to know that the hair loss had started.

"Shit," he murmured, dropping back down to his rear and looking at his friend who was now just holding the towel to himself, hand still slightly bleeding. "Man, I'm sorry. I know we both knew it was gonna happen, but it still sucks just the same ..."

"I don't want to go through this, Justin," he said softly, shaking his head as he licked his drying lips, "I don't ... I don't wanna keep waking up and finding something else is wrong. I don't wanna go to bed one night and all my hair be gone; I don't wanna wake up and see that my skin is yellowing or going grayer than it already is. I don't want to pop pills the rest of my life and I certainly don't want to live seven years in remission praying to God I don't get the AML again. I don't want to do this anymore. I know it sounds pathetic and childlike, but that's just it. It's been how many weeks, maybe a month since I've known and I already feel like I've been going through this for years and I feel like I'm already dead and hollow inside. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't do anything without feeling as if I'm either going to fall over or throw up."

"JC, it's gonna be okay -"

"I don't want you taking care of me," he said softly. "I don't want to be a burden. I appreciate you being here but I see how it's already killing you. Go home, Justin. I'll get a nurse and I'll go on like I originally planned. I can't do this anymore."

"Josh," he pressed, watching as JC lifted his head at the mention of his first name, jaw clenched, tears resting at the bottoms of his lids just waiting to be released, "You are anything but a burden and I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to help you. Yes, I will probably need help, but I'm not gonna give up on you ... but you can't give up on me, okay? You can't just do this. We know things are gonna happen. Take it as shedding a new skin. Your hair will grow back; your skin will go back to normal again and hell, you'll eat like the pig you are."

"I don't know how they do it, Justin; I don't know if I can do this ..."

He watched helplessly as his friend finally broke down, the first time he had ever seen him do so in the nearly twenty years he had known him. It worsened when he gripped his hair, jumping as he lowered his hands, hairs resting between his creases and fingers themselves. "Oh God, Josh," he reached forward, wrapping an arm around his neck and hugging him, unsure of what else to do. He was never emotional unless it came to singing and now, he knew, it would be nearly every day.

It scared him.

Forty-five minutes later and an Ambien later, Justin had cleaned the older man up enough to get him into the guest room away from the mess and amble out into the living room, his bedroom for the night. The next morning, he planned on calling the nurse, planned on getting his friend back to where he used to be - with the exception of the disease. Even if it meant him hating him.

He picked up his cell phone, fingers lingering on the keypad as he hesitated. He had to do this.

The line began to ring, he now realizing that it was nearing 2 in the morning and he was pretty sure he'd be waking up the other line, but he didn't care.

"Justin?"

Damn Caller I.D. "Hi, Roy," he said softly, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, son. Karen and I haven't been getting too much sleep lately."

He frowned, inhaling, "then this is probably gonna make you really mad at me or relieved, but please don't react to my part in this."

"What are you talking about, Justin? Is something else wrong that we need to know about? Do you know anything?"

"I know a lot," he said softly, "and that's why I need you and Karen to come to Cordova."