It was a quiet morning. Maybe a little too quiet. Having managed to shuffle JC to and from the shower and into the small dining area to get dry toast and tea into his lacking digestive system, he now sat alone in the kitchen on the island stool, staring at the broken cuticles in his gnawed to the bone fingernails. They hurt, but the pain was not taking any attention away from the nerves keeping his legs shaking beneath the island counter.

He had been on the phone for only a half hour with a hysterical Karen, Roy having to take the phone away from her to get the complete story of why their son had taken off like he had. It had been like pulling teeth without the novacaine; like going through surgery without the anesthetic - at that point, he'd take both latters to what he had been going through. He had been on the verge of tears with Roy, but Karen, Karen broke the barrier.

He kept the tears silent as he managed to speak, going from Roy to Karen and back again, finally hanging up with them both as Roy promised to book a flight the moment they got off the line and be at JC's place as soon as they possibly could.

And that was in mere hours.

He had not slept that night. Not only because of the phone call he had just made, but because of the thoughts that ran rampant in his mind; the memories of the earlier years when the two of them were inseperable. He missed being that young, missed being able to share the limelight with one of his best friends, someone he actually thought of as someone he respected greatly and admired. To be honest, he felt better when he knew he was sharing the stage - if he messed up, JC was always there to cover for him as it had always been, and vice-versa.

The man had a four octave range. Rarely heard of in the male singer category. A strong falsetto, an even strong tenor - anything he sang seemed to turn to gold within the group. Producers loved how much of a perfectionist he was, correcting himself before they even thought of it; writers loved being able to write pretty much anything, knowing he'd be able to sing the shit out of it ... hell, anyone that came into contact with him involving the music loved him. He loved going back and listening to their albums, hearing how in every song, regardless of what part he took in it, he accentuated the lead so that they sounded great. That, when he would sing and have a backing vocal, he sounded even more amazing.

He was talented from one end to another in the industry. Though he always stated Justin was the better dancer (which, 6 times out of 10, Justin had agreed - he was a quicker learner with the steps), JC's energy and acrobatic talent were undeniable. If ever put in a position to have a dance partner in a dance-off, it'd be JC.

He spent most of his night thinking about the positive things that JC had done that he remembered, all the things that got him to the level he was at now in his life. At thirty three, he accomplished more than someone double, even triple his age could.

It was disappointing to him to see his album fail in comparison to his own solo effort. Though JC said time and time again that the album was only something he did out of fun, out of respect for the fans that had requested it, he still felt bad. Not many people bought into the electro-pop as much as they did with the funky, hip-hop-pop that he released. He fed into the media easier, being the smooth talker, the one that sold anything and everything he could. JC was the mere spectator and that was his decision for a lot of things. If not spectator, he was a mediator; if he had not of been, Chris would have been tossed under the bus a long time ago.

He smirked, it melting off his face quickly as he thought of the three men he had not acknowledged in months. He knew that they, along with JC, were the ties to one of the happiest times in his life, in JC's life and leaving this out of it would be devastating to them. But he knew he couldn't tell them just yet. He had two angry, devastated and out-for-the-kill parents headed his way and he had to figure out a way to take care of that, first.

"Hey, J, you know where you put the Ambien?"

He startled from his thoughts, looking over at JC as he leaned tiredly against the wall of the hallway. His friend, just barely in his thirties, had aged nearly over night. He looked so tired, so aged, so ... old. "Uh, yeah," he moved quickly off the stool, walking over towards the coffee table where he had set it the night before, staring at it longingly, knowing it would knock him out cold but never taking it in fear of his friend needing him. Popping the top off, he took two, gripping them tightly and praying that they'd kick in before Karen and Roy would appear. They needed to be calm before they saw him, otherwise -

"You okay?"

He blinked, looking at JC has he eyed him wearily, hand outstretched to accept the two pills. "I'm okay," he said, giving him a smile, "just thinking."

"Yeah?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah."

"Of what?"

He chuckled at his friend's curiosity, shrugging. "How jealous I was of you when we were younger. How much I wanted to be like you."

"Justin, don't ever try to be someone else. You're great the way you are."

"Aw, turn all girly on me, why don't you," he teased, JC rolling his eyes. "I was just thinking of us around the time we were recording 'This I Promise You'. How envious of you I was because that song proved to me that I could never, ever sing that way."

He arched an eyebrow, dropping his hand and crossing his arms at his chest. "What way?"

"I have never been able to silence a room just by opening my mouth -"

"That's a laugh -"

"I meant by singing, Jace. You've got a pretty powerful set of pipes, you know?"

He shrugged. "I just do what I can, Justin."

"You shouldn't just ignore what talent you have."

"Why are we talking about this, anyway?"

"You asked."

"Justin -"

"Because, for once, it's nice to talk to you about the past. Before, I hated even thinking about it. Now, reminiscing seems to be the only thing that keeps me sane with all the shit in my life."

"Shit? Justin, I told you -"

"My career, JC, Jesus. Stop jumping the gun, all right? My reminiscing has nothing to do with your sickness and everything about wanting to be back there again. I miss it. I miss standing on stage with four other people and knowing exactly what we were all doing. I miss when we did the blues version of 'I Want You Back' and the shit-eating grin I'd get on my face when you'd belt that last note and the reaction of the fans would just make me giddy as hell - I lived for that. I lived for those people, the adreneline; the rush I get now is nothing like before. I sound totally fruity, but it's true."

"Well, I always thought you were pretty fruity," he yawned. "But yeah, I do remember opening my eyes and seeing you all staring at me as if I had commited a crime. You all looked saucer-eyed and shocked. I didn't know what to think," he chuckled. He stood in silence, his eyes dropping slowly as he thought. "Words kind of have an irony now, don't you think?"

Justin frowned, thinking of the words. "You singing to a woman is ironic?"

"No," he chuckled. "Your words. I always loved your verse better than mine. The whole, 'when the visions around you bring tears to your eyes', 'I'll be your strength, I'll give you hope; keeping your faith when it's gone. The one you should call was standing here all along'. Unlike mine, it could be said to more than just a lover." He laughed, shaking his head. "You always had the better verses."

It was quarter after three when there was a faint knock on the door. JC had been out for a little more than three hours after waking up with a slight bout of nausea, retiring back to the guest bedroom to sleep the rest off and ignore the light of day. Again. He was mentally swearing to himself that he was going to get him out of the apartment if it was the last thing he did, even just for a walk down the hallway, a drive in the car ... anything to keep him from going stir-crazy.

He wasn't nervous anymore. This had to happen, regardless of the time frame. He knew it, JC knew it ... there was no need to think that JC would put a bullet in his head when he found out; it was a good thing.

"Keep telling that to yourself, Timberlake," he mumbled as his hand encircled the doorknob, turning it slowly and letting his gaze lift to the two middle-aged people standing in front of him. "Roy, Karen," he said softly, stepping aside to let the two in, they both holding a carry-on bag. "I'm glad you came." He closed the door softly, leading the two into the living room as they sat down on the couch, he sitting on the arm chair across from them. "He's been asleep off and on since late this morning. Today is a pretty good day though; he was joking a bit."

"Justin -"

He held up his hand, seeing the look of fear flashing in JC's own mother's eyes. "He's gonna get through this," he said gently, "I know I need to keep reassuring myself this, but you need to, too. They caught it early on, he can beat it. Right now, his self-esteem is pretty low; he is thinking pretty negatively about it but if given enough encouragement, I think he'll think the same. It's been pretty tough on him."

"Justin, did he ever say why he just ... up and left?"

"He wanted to deal with this alone," he said softly, biting his lip as Karen wiped the tears from her eyes, Roy clearing his throat as he took his wife's hand. "You know him; he never wants to put anyone through pain if he can do it himself. But he shouldn't be alone. He shouldn't fight this alone; it's not fair to him. It's not fair to his family, to his friends."

"Why did he call you first?"

Justin shrugged. "He told me that he could rely on me and that I'd be there, even if I didn't understand what his motives were. Which I did ... for a while. Eventually, he was going to call you; I didn't want it to be too late, though. I didn't want it to be weeks from now and him sicker than ever. This is just starting, he needs you guys." He looked from one parent to the other, they silent. "How did Heather and Tyler take it?"

"We haven't told them," Roy said softly, "need to let this settle with us, settle with him, first. Shouldn't overwhelm him in his weakened state."

Justin nodded. "I'm gonna call a few people and let them know. I think they'd want to know and I know they wouldn't say anything."

"The guys."

He looked at Karen with a sad smile. "Yeah. They are practically family."

"They are family."

All three people jumped at the voice that tiredly stated the obvious from the doorway. "Hi mom, hi dad ..."

"God, Joshua ..."

Justin watched as JC braced himself for his mother as she enveloped him, Roy putting a hand to his son's back to steady his weakened body against the force of his mother as she held him. "I'm okay, mom," he said softly, she sobbing into his shoulder as he put his arm closest to Roy around him, bringing his gaze up to Justin. His eyes were watery, closing them slowly before opening them and nodding at his friend in appreciation. He had done the right thing. "I'm okay."

Justin let himself smile for the first time in a while. He was okay.