Sheridan felt her eyes open. They felt like two heavy garage doors being pried open with a crowbar. For awhile, she couldn’t keep them open longer than a few seconds. She felt like she was still asleep, not even being able to comprehend where she was or how she’d gotten there in the first place. The massive pounding in her head was the only sure fire sign that she was indeed, awake. Ten minutes passed, and she was finally able to open her eyes, and keep them that way. Everything was blurry, and remained that way no matter how much she squinted her eyes. Her body throbbed and ached, complaining to her about what she’d put it through the night before. She realized she was on the floor…and after studying the white ceramic tiles, she realized she was in the first floor bathroom, and that she’d most likely been there since late last night. She closed her eyes again, trying to remember what happened upon her return home last night, but all she could see or hear was Justin. His expression was grim, and he seemed to loom high above her in his wheelchair. He was sad, worried. He kept saying ‘what happened to you?’.

She tried to tell him, only to realize moments later that he was only an image in her mind.

She let out a miserable groan and forced herself to sit up, her head managing to collide with the side of the toilet bowl as she did so. A horrible sound came out of her, like a cat dying. She never thought she could feel so sick…so terrible. She grabbed her head with her hands and rocked back and forth, willing her massive headache away. Then she smelled it…an awful, foul stench coming from the toilet bowl. She wondered how many times she’d vomited into it last night. She shuddered at the thought, and reached up to flush the toilet.

Her head began to pound more profusely, causing her to let out a worse sound than she let out before. She leaned against the toilet bowl for support, and heard, rather than felt herself begin to cry.

“Sheridan.”

She heard her mothers displeased tone, and wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She didn’t have the strength to look at her. She didn‘t have the composure to get a lecture from her right now either. All she wanted to do, she realized, was sit there until the pounding in her head ceased…or at least until she threw up again. Whichever came first. “Hmm.”

“Get up, Sheridan.” Her mother crossed the room and stood over her. “Now.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Go away,” she croaked. “I’m sick.”

“You wouldn’t be sick if you hadn’t drank yourself into oblivion last night,” her mother reminded her. “Get up. If your not going to the hospital today, you can at least help me get some work done. The horses are taken care of, but I have a ton of paperwork and phone calls I have to take care of today. I need you to start packing up Justin’s things. He‘s got a lot on his list for the last week he‘s going to be here, and he won‘t have time to do it himself. Leave enough clothes in the drawers to last him the week, and put the rest into his luggage.”

“Wha--” She wasn’t sure if she was hearing her mother correctly. Why pack Justin’s things now? He was so picky about what clothes he wore, Sheridan knew she would have to go back and rummage through his suitcases again to find that specific shirt or pair of jeans. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought, but it quickly faded when her mother’s voice snapped her back to the current situation.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” her mother grumbled. “You got yourself into this, after we’d repeatedly discussed the reasons why it wasn’t a good idea. Justin was a wreck last night because of you. I nearly had to give him a sedative to get him to sleep.”

She found she didn’t have the strength to turn her head and look at her mother, but she didn’t hesitate to reply. “You didn’t give it to him did you?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t have to. He was so exhausted with worry, he fell asleep on his own. Thank you Sheridan…thank you for making his life that much more strenuous. But then, making other people miserable is nothing new with you.”

It was her fault. She nodded, accepting this. After all, in her mother’s eyes, everything that went wrong seemed to be her fault. It started with her father and went on down the line. She was used to it. Of course, her relationship with her mother wasn’t as bad as it had been a few years ago. But right now, her mother was acting that same horrible way again. Like she was hopeless…useless.

“Get up.”

“I slept on the bathroom floor,” she croaked out. “And I feel like hell right now, mom. Just…leave me alone today okay?”

Her mother stepped over her and opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink. “Here,” she grunted, tossing a bottle of Advil on Sheridan’s lap. “Take two and get over yourself.”

“Mom--”

“Sheridan, I’m not in the mood for this right now, okay? Lynn is here…and she’s been impossible all morning. Justin barely got through his therapy because some of it‘ looked too strenuous’. I had to skip half the machines, and the bars well…they were out of the question.” She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. “I really hate to say this…but I’ll be happy when he’s gone. That woman is insane.” She checked her hair in the mirror before turning back to her. “Come on, hurry up,” she ordered. “There’s work to be done.”

Sheridan watched her mother walk out of the bathroom, before she laid down on the floor again. Then she felt her stomach turn, and a few moments later she was vomiting into the toilet again. It was horrible, but after she’d finished she felt a little better. Completely out of energy again, she curled herself into a ball, hoping it would get the throbbing pain in her head to stop for a few minutes. Then her eyes closed. She didn’t want to fall back to sleep…she knew she couldn’t. But she wasn’t comfortable any other way.

Getting drunk was something Sheridan hadn’t done in almost a year. In fact, the only other time she remembered getting as drunk as she’d been the night before, was at Marcy’s birthday party last May. Of course, she hadn’t gone to the party with the intention on getting trashed…but Marcy wanted her to ‘live a little’. Five shots of tequila and a margarita later though, she’d been passed out on the floor, and woken up with a horrible hangover the next day.

Last night she hadn’t been at a party though. Sheridan simply needed to get out of the house, and get her aggressions out any way she could. Everything that happened that day was clouding her mind…so much that she could hardly think straight. Elisha’s words to her…they echoed in her mind as if the girl had been right there with her instead of on the other end of the IM conversation. They blamed her…they cursed her…they told her she wasn’t good enough. Sheridan found herself breaking down into tears before she ended up at a bar on the outskirts of town.

The place was pretty much empty, and Sheridan had been thankful. She needed peace…time to think. Then the bartender came over to her and offered her a drink. Normally, she would have been against the idea. The story Justin told her about his own unfortunate experience making her even more cautious about drinking and driving. But she was so upset, and that bartender…he was just so sympathetic. She couldn’t resist.

Then, in a whirlwind, she’d found herself looking into the bottom of her tenth beer mug. She didn’t know she had it in her to consume so much beer, and she didn’t know how she got home without having an accident. She knew she’d probably come close to crashing once or twice though.

“Oh my god,” she said, her eyes snapping open at the realization of what she’d almost caused herself to do. She could have ended up like Justin…paralyzed…in a wheelchair. She could have ended up like Trace too…dead. She quickly sat up again, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that passed over her as she did so. “Oh shit.”

“Sheridan!” Her mother’s voice called from somewhere out in the hallway. “I‘m not going to tell you again!”

Sheridan obliged, not without letting out another miserable groan first. She staggered to her feet, and the room started to spin again…just like it had the night before. She clutched her stomach and moaned, leaning on the sink for support. She stared down into the basin, wishing it was already filled with water so she wouldn’t have to labor at turning the faucet on.

“Sheridan!”

“I’m coming dammit!” she yelled. “Can I wash my face?” She shook her head in annoyance before finally turning the water on, letting it fill the sink before turning off. She cupped her hands and dunked them into the pool of water, splashing it on her face. It felt good, and after drying her face off she began to feel a little better. Realizing how thirsty she was, she grabbed the tumbler and filled it with water, drinking it down in two gulps. She repeated this process several times before finally deciding she was ready to face the world again. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked horrible. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen…as if she hadn’t slept in days.

She hoped Justin wouldn’t get the chance to see her like this. But with his mother around, she doubted he even remembered she existed. The very thought of Justin caused her to inhale a shaky breath. No…she wouldn’t cry. She’d done enough of that at the bar last night. What she needed to do…had to do…was listen to her mother. Her mother knew best…

She should have listened to her mother a long time ago…when she said Justin wasn’t good boyfriend material. She hated that she could be so stubborn about things she felt strongly about.

Her father had been stubborn too.

She pulled the plug from the sink, watching the water empty from it before she finally emerged from the bathroom. She heard her mother’s voice coming from somewhere…probably the office. She was on the phone. It sounded like she was talking to her assistant. It was boring…business talk. Sheridan didn’t care.

But she did care when she heard the sound of his laughter coming from the kitchen. She paused mid-step, wanting to forget all about her pain and anxiety towards him and his mother. She wanted to go over and talk to him. She turned on her heel and started for the kitchen.

“Hey!” she heard him exclaim. “Johnny! How are you?”

She skidded to a stop.

Johnny, she’d learned from a conversation they’d had in the past, was Justin’s co-manager. He was NSYNC’s manager too, and from what Justin told her, he was one of the biggest inspirations in his life. She couldn’t bother him now. There was no doubt in her mind that Lynn was standing right there with him, probably having made the call for him. She didn’t belong in that scene…she had no place there. She would just go pack. That was her place right now. That was what her mom needed her to do.

Somehow, she managed to drag herself into Justin’s bedroom. She felt odd being inside the room without him. The more she thought about it, she couldn’t really recall a time she’d been in here all by herself. Whenever she tidied up the room, Justin was always with her; helping her make the bed or fold his clothes. She glanced around the room, realizing she’d never taken the time to notice any of the possessions that he’d brought from home. There were CD’s piled everywhere of course, but she expected that. Justin liked to listen to music at night, while he was laying in bed. Most of the time, he’d use his walkman. But sometimes…like the nights she didn’t have to be up all that early the next day, they would sit and listen to music together. Those were her favorite times. Music…it seemed to make Justin come alive. He would get this look in his eyes…this passion. He’d rip the song apart, pointing out things she would have never noticed otherwise. She smiled at the memory, but then felt it fade…knowing that things weren’t going to be like that between them anymore.

Her attention was drawn to a picture frame that rested on Justin’s nightstand. She was sure she’d never seen it before. In fact, she knew that Justin didn’t keep any pictures around. His mother must have brought it for him. She wondered what it was a picture of. Trace crossed her mind, but then again she knew Lynn probably wouldn’t have wanted Justin to think about all of that right now. No, it must have been something else. Curious, she crossed the room and picked up the picture. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw what it actually was.

Justin was sitting on a sofa, two small boys curled up on his lap, one obviously much younger than the other. They looked so happy…so carefree. Justin had this aura about him, unlike one she’d ever seen before. He looked complete…content. And she knew he probably hadn’t felt that good in a very long time. She wished she could make him that way again. But knowing that she couldn’t, she put the picture back where she’d gotten it.

Then she saw what looked like an envelope sticking out of one of the CD cases that was piled on the nightstand. Not being able to help herself again, she glanced over her shoulder, then pulled the envelope out. It was a letter, addressed to him. The writing was legible but a little immature, and Sheridan figured it had probably been written by the older of the two boys in the picture. With another small smile, she pulled the letter out and began to read it.

Sheridan carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. She felt her throat tighten, and swallowed hard, trying to calm herself. Justin never told her he had any siblings, and she was sure Lynn was too old to have two small children. She was so confused, but quickly realized that it wasn’t her place to pry. She figured, Justin was extremely attached to those boys, and talking about them probably would have caused him to break down. She felt bad she’d even read the letter. She was sure Justin didn’t want her to know about it…how it was probably killing him inside to know he couldn’t be there for his brothers like they wanted him to be.

She wished there was something she could do.

But there wasn’t anything she could do. She didn’t know the situation, and she wasn’t a part of his family. He was sure his mother was handling it anyway, as she’d probably been the one to give him the letter in the first place. She was sure it would all work out for him eventually.

She crouched down and pulled Justin’s suitcases out from under the bed. She figured the best thing she could do right now was pack. The faster she packed, the faster she could get out of the room, and possibly out of the house. She needed air. She was hot…sweaty. But it was probably due to the fact that she was so sick, and hadn’t taken a shower yet. With a sigh, she plopped the suitcases on the bed and opened the first drawer full of clothes. The aroma of Justin’s cologne overwhelmed her almost immediately. She pulled out one of his shirts, and couldn‘t help but smile a little. It was one of the many tees he possessed, with the silly phrases printed on them. This one, in particular, said Betcha can’t eat just one!. She’d never understood his fascination with them, she knew he had enough money to buy the best name brand fashions on the market. But Justin said fashion was all for show. He felt comfortable in these kinds of clothes…they made him feel ‘normal’.

She hugged the shirt to her chest, breathing in his scent. You’re too attached, she thought. You’re going to ruin everything you’ve worked for.

She curled up on his bed, not realizing she’d been crying until her head hit the pillow. The bed was messy, slept in, and it still smelled like him. She wanted him there, to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay…

Even if it really wasn’t.

**************

“Well,” his mother smiled, sitting down in the seat adjacent from him. “Is it as good as always?”

“Mmmhmm,” Justin grunted in approval, shoving another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. It was his third plate in a row. He knew Karen didn’t approve of overeating, but she wasn’t around. His mother was though, and she insisted on feeding him until he was completely satisfied. It wasn‘t the wisest decision she could have made. It had been so long since he’d had his mothers home cooking, he knew he could eat at least ten plates of the stuff before even starting to feel full. He swallowed what was in his mouth before speaking again. “This is great mom. Really.”

Johnny was surprisingly civil with him on the phone. He barely discussed his going back to his career again, and Justin was almost positive it was the first time he’d held a conversation with Johnny that didn’t involve ‘numbers’ and ‘dates.’ It seemed that Johnny was more focused on his well being than anything else, and Justin was thankful for that. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with the dinner he and his mother shared the previous evening, and he didn’t care. He was only thankful that Johnny was able to act human towards him, despite the horrible tragedy that seemingly, had taken a firm hold over everyone close to him.

He did mention Trace though, which almost made Justin regret calling him in the first place. But Johnny was bold, and Justin told himself from the start that he should have expected that from him. He’d said and asked the basic things. How he was sorry about the accident. That Trace was ’a good kid, and a great businessman’. He told him that he went to the funeral, and that it was a beautiful ceremony. Justin wished he’d skipped that part. It made his eyes watery and his breathing more rapid. He knew his mother noticed too, since she’d nearly taken the phone away from him before he stopped her.

Justin felt that Johnny was testing him. If he could handle talking about his accident with Johnny, he could talk about it with reporters, vj’s, radio stations…anybody. It was a key factor in putting himself back in the entertainment scene. He figured it was part of the reason Johnny and his mother had dinner together, and why he wanted to speak with him that morning. The phone call ended on a bittersweet note. They’d made plans to have lunch a week after he got settled back home. He said he wanted Elisha there too. He wanted to ‘discuss the situation’.

Johnny knew about the baby. And he knew because his mother told him. It was the only thing Justin was annoyed about. Elisha didn’t want people to know. What if the news about her pregnancy got around to the wrong person? He tried to tell himself that Johnny was trustworthy. After all, he’d been working with him since his late teens. Why would Johnny betray his trust now?

He needed to work on trusting people more.

His mother rested her chin on her hand, and smiled again. “You know, I haven’t seen you in this good of a mood since…well…since before.”

“Well,” he said softly, stabbing into his pancakes with his fork. “I haven’t felt this good since before.”

His mother bit her bottom lip, and nodded, beginning to consume her own plate of food.

“I got a letter the other day,” Justin spoke up, remembering the piece of mail Karen had given him a few days ago. The letter was from Jonathan, and for a few hours, Justin hadn’t been able to open it. He’d simply sat there in front of the television, staring at the bright yellow envelope. It was the first time in a long time he’d had a reason to think about his brothers and what all of this was doing to them. He figured they must have been hurt that he hadn’t called or written. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to.

Finally, he’d decided to open the letter, knowing there was no other way to get past his insecurities. He was pleasantly surprised to find a photograph enclosed. He recognized the picture from two Christmases ago. The boys had been delighted, because they’d been able to spend their entire Christmas break with him, as he hadn‘t had to work at all. Of course, it wasn’t the easiest weak…chasing two kids around the house was always a chore. But Justin had done it to the best of his abilities. Trace had been around too of course, giving them noogies until they begged him to stop, joining forces with Steven for some two on two play station time, romping around the basketball court in the driveway…

The boys always loved Trace.

He didn’t tell Sheridan about it. He wanted to, but then…everything seemed to happen at once. His lunch with Elisha…his mother coming here. There was no time to discuss it. He felt bad about it. He told Sheridan everything, and didn’t want her to feel like he was keeping anything from her. But the boys were a delicate subject. He was as close to them as he had been to Trace, and it was hard enough to talk about Trace without breaking down. He promised himself that he would talk to her about it eventually, when their minds were both free of any sort of stress or confusion.

Or, simply…when Sheridan wasn’t drunk.

The thought that she’d driven home in that state kept him awake for a good portion of the night. Karen was almost forced to give him a sedative, after she’d checked in on him a second time and he still wasn’t asleep. He faked it though. He pretended to drift off while she was in the middle of another one of her lectures, and thankfully, she bought it. His eyes snapped open almost immediately after she left the room though, and for another few hours all he’d been able to do was lay there and think about how close Sheridan probably came to getting hurt, or even worse…dying. He’d cried over it too. It was that silent, empty sort of crying that he’d done in the hospital so the nurses wouldn’t hear him. He would never confess any of this to Sheridan or Karen of course. He didn’t want to make them feel that they’d caused his emotional blowout.

He was only thankful that his mother decided to cook for him this morning. Otherwise, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open.

“A letter?” his mother spoke up. “From who?”

He took in a breath before responding. “Jonathan.”

His mother was silent for a moment, staring down at her plate like it was made out of gold. “Lisa mentioned that Jonathan wrote to you. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think Karen would have given you the letter.”

“Well, she did,” he nodded. “He seems really…bitter, mom. Like I don’t know, it seems like he doesn’t want to let on how upset he is or something.”

“He’s like you,” his mother chuckled. “Always has been.”

“I really want to see them,” he sighed.

“Maybe in a few weeks,” Lynn told him. “Get yourself settled back at the house first.”

He shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t want to wait a few weeks to see his brothers. He knew how hard this whole thing was on them, and all he wanted to do was reassure them that he was going to be okay…that he was still their brother and he was going to be there for them. But he knew the idea was unrealistic. He still had to move…find a new doctor…get used to living in the real world again. And Sheridan well, that was another project.

“Do you still have the letter?” she asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he responded. “He sent me a picture too.” He pushed back from the table. “I’ll go get them.” He turned himself around and quickly wheeled himself down the hallway toward his room. He thought that maybe, if his mother read the letter and saw the picture, she might be persuaded to call Lisa and talk her into sending the boys out. Surely, she would have to see how much Jonathan was hurting from all of this.

He rolled himself to up to his doorway, only to find that the door was closed. And as he listened more closely, he was sure he could hear somebody inside…crying. He frowned, knowing who it was. He turned the doorknob and pushed his way into the room. He let out a defeated sigh when he spotted Sheridan curled up on his bed, hugging one of his t-shirts to her chest, sobbing quietly. He blamed himself for her behavior. If it weren’t for his mother…his problems, Sheridan wouldn’t be miserable. He began to think about what it would have been like if they’d never met. Would he have turned out worse? Would Sheridan be better off?

He didn’t have an answer.

“Sheridan,” he managed to get out after a moment. When she didn’t answer, he rolled himself closer to the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Sher.”

“Leave me alone,” she muttered. She flipped herself over, so her back was facing him.

“Could you look at me?” he asked her.

She was silent.

Justin looked down at his lap, and toyed with the bottom of his t-shirt. “I…I feel like you hate me right now.”

She quickly flipped back over, and stared at him. “I don’t hate you,” she whispered. She sniffled, and wiped the tears off of her face with the shirt she was holding. “Why would you ever think that?”

He didn‘t answer her question. “Why’d you get so drunk last night? Why couldn’t you just talk me? Drinking never solves anything…” he trailed off and looked down at his lap. “You know that Sheridan.”

“I couldn’t talk to you,” she whispered. “Your mom was around, and you were so happy…I wasn’t about to mess that up, Justin.”

“It’s just us now,” he nodded, taking one of her hands in his. “Nobody is around…and I’m not gonna be happy until I know what’s wrong with you. Just tell me Sher…I don‘t care what it is.”

“Do you…do you really think I‘m good enough for you?” she asked him finally. Her eyes were wide, frightened.

Justin cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“I mean…,” she sighed. “Do you really think I’m right girl for you? I mean, for all you know, I could just be after your celebrity…right?”

“Sheridan…how could you ask me a question like that?” He was confused now, more than ever. Good enough? Of course she was good enough. He didn’t have set standards. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was anymore. Not that he was going to go out and date just anybody…but Sheridan didn’t need to worry. She was beautiful. Why she couldn’t see that, he had no idea. “You don’t even know who the other members of NSYNC are,” he continued, laughing a little to lighten the mood. “We had to play that trivia game Marcy brought with her, remember?”

A soft laugh escaped her. But she didn’t smile.

“Who’s been messing with your head?” he asked her, feeling himself grow angrier inside. “Did my mother put that in your head…that you only like me because of who I am? I swear to God…I’ll fuckin--”

“No, Justin,” she interrupted. “Your mom didn’t do anything.”

He let out a long breath. “Then who was it?”

She was silent. She looked down at the shirt she held in her free hand. “It doesn’t really matter. Just as long as you don’t think that I’m taking advantage of you, I’ll be okay.”

“I want to know who it is,” he demanded. “I’ve had enough of this shit. All these people…they don’t fuckin’ know you. Damn, I mean…every time I get into a relationship somebody always has something to say about it. Well you know what? This time…this time it’s different. You’re my girlfriend…being with you is my choice, and that’s it. Nobody else needs to say anything more about it. I already…I already lost my best friend. I‘m not going to lose you too.”

Her eyes widened at his comment, and Justin was sure that she was going to burst into tears all over again. After a moment or two though, she seemed to regain her composure, and spoke again. “But it does matter what they think,” she said softly. “I know it matters to you Justin. You’re close to your family, and you’re not just some regular guy. I know your friends and family don’t want you to---”

“Exactly,” he interrupted her. “They don’t want me to be with you. But I want to be with you.” He moved his hand to her face, and cupped her cheek with his palm. “I want to be with you,” he whispered, giving her a light kiss. “Nothin’ else matters.”

She returned his kiss, but it seemed like she was only putting half her heart into it. “You say that now, but what’s going to happen when you’re home, with all of them?,” she asked. “Justin, please don’t lie to me…I know you’re not going to want to be around me then.”

He pulled away from her slightly, hurt that she wasn’t taking anything he was telling her to heart. “Why won’t you listen to me?” he asked her. “It’s like--you want me to say ‘okay, you’re right, we shouldn’t be together’.”

She shrugged, but didn’t respond. Justin knew he was right. She did want him to say it. She wanted him to break up with her so he wouldn’t have to ‘deal with it’. No, she hadn’t said that, but he knew her, and he knew that was how she worked. Justin knew she was scared too, and figured breaking up was an easy way out for her. “I’m not breaking up with you,” he informed her. “So you can just forget it.”

She stared at him, looking as if she didn’t have any idea why he wanted to be with her. He began to realize that Sheridan had more emotional problems than he’d originally thought. She was so good at keeping her feelings locked away though, unless you really knew her, you would never be able to tell. It almost made him angry that she was keeping so much inside. After all, she was the one who told him keeping your feelings locked inside of you was the worst thing a person could do. If she really believed that, then why was she acting like this right now?

“Justin,” she whispered. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Do what?” he asked her. “Fall in love with you?”

She looked away from him.

“Sheridan.“ He shifted closer to her again, and brought his hand to her face, brushing the tears off of her cheeks. “Wasn’t it you who said it’s not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up? That you need to talk about them?”

“I wasn’t talking about me then,” she mumbled. “I was talking about you.”

“Why do you think that you’re feelings don’t matter? They do matter Sher. I’m not the only one that’s allowed to be in pain you know. Just because you‘re not like me…,” he looked down at his lap and then back to her. “In a wheelchair, doesn’t mean you don’t have your own issues. I’m here to listen to you too, Sheridan. You can talk to me too.”

She bit the corner of her lip, and sniffled a bit. “It’s hard for me to talk about things,” she confessed. “I know that…I act like I’m so open, and honest…”she tore her gaze from his before speaking again. “But, I’m really so insecure. I’m a mess, Justin. You‘re better off not having me around to screw things up. I mean, look at last night. I flipped out because…” she cut her speech short. “Nevermind.”

“Because of what,” he asked her softly. He knew she was starting to crack, and with a little more persuasion from him, he was sure she would confess the reason for her drunken stupor the previous evening.

“You’re mom is waiting, isn‘t she?”

“Sheridan,” he said, with more force. “Stop avoiding the damn subject and tell me. You can’t just run away from your problems.”

“Look who’s talking,” she said coldly. “Mr. I Can’t Do It.”

He didn’t take her comment to heart. He knew her emotions were out of whack, and she probably wasn’t hearing herself. It still hurt though, and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat, which he quickly swallowed back. “I’d be a lot worse off if you hadn’t helped me, Sheridan,” he said sadly. “I’m trying to get better…but it’s hard. You know it’s hard for me.”

She met his gaze again. Her eyes were full of regret. “I didn’t mean to say that.” She shifted closer to the edge of the bed, and put her hand to his face, caressing his cheek, his forehead. “I didn’t.”

He grabbed her hand and moved it down to his chest, holding it against him. He would have given anything to be able to crawl into the bed with her and wrap his arms around her. He knew Sheridan needed that right now…probably more than anything in the world. He frowned. It wasn’t fair. “I wish I could hold you,” he admitted, sadly. “And kiss you, and love you and prove to you how much I care about you. I want to so bad, Sher. But I just can’t, not like this…and I’m sorry.”

The look of regret on her face quickly changed to a look of sadness. “Don‘t apologize for that,” she croaked. “It’s not your fault.” Her bottom lip trembled, and a few more tears made their way down her face.

He bowed his head and kissed her hand. “You’re so important to me,” he whispered. “I hate to see you like this. I really wish you would tell me what happened, so I can try to fix it.”

“It’s only going to cause more problems if I tell you,” she said. “I don’t want that.”

“It’s going to cause problems either way,” he informed her. “They can either be between you and me, or between me and the person that did this to you. I don’t know about you--but I don’t want to have any more problems between us.”

She sighed. It was a sign. She was caving in.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Please Sher.“

She hesitated for a few moments more, before finally replying. “Elisha.”

He shuddered at her response. “Elisha?”

She nodded. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

He thought Elisha was his friend. Maybe even more than a friend. She could have been like a sister to him, if he wasn’t so uneasy being around her now that Trace was gone. But now…now he was nauseated by her. He’d opened up to her about Sheridan the day she’d told him about the baby. He’d told her everything. How they’d met…how their romance came about. And Elisha seemed to welcome the idea. She even seemed excited for him…that he was able to have a life outside of everything else. He was confused. But he didn’t know how he should react. He didn’t want to be angry with her, because of how close of a friendship they formed when Trace was alive, and because of what she’d meant to Trace. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but be angry, because Sheridan was so upset about it. The fact that he was moving back home to live with a girl that Sheridan didn’t know was enough for her to deal with. But now Elisha was against Sheridan? Putting all these crazy ideas in her head, when she didn’t even know her?

That wasn’t the Elisha he knew. Granted, she could be a bitch at times…but he’d never known her to be so cruel before. Especially to somebody that meant so much to him.

“Well…” he began, a slight tremble in his voice. “What happened? Did she call…or did she come by or something?”

“No,” Sheridan muttered. “We talked online. Somehow, she found my screen name. It seemed innocent enough. She was asking me for advice, and so I gave it to her. But then…I mean, I guess I was at fault too. I took something she said the wrong way, and…I called her a bitch. I didn’t mean to, but I wasn’t in the best mood. I was trying to work on my paper, and your mother had my nerves on edge…” She sighed and shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He was hurt. He felt so misguided…so lost. Going to live with Elisha was supposed to be a positive thing for everybody. And he felt, deep down, that when Elisha had the baby…it would almost be like getting Trace back in a way. But now, he didn’t know if he could even look at her, let alone trust her. What was he going to do? What was he going to say to her when he saw her again?

“It’s okay if you’re angry with me,” Sheridan spoke up.

He looked at her. Her eyes were glazed over again. He didn’t want her to cry anymore. “I’m not angry with you,” he managed to say. “I’m just…really hurt that she would do something like this. I thought I could trust her, you know?”

Sheridan nodded.

He blew out a breath of air. “What did she say to you?”

“Oh Justin…don’t make me tell you,” Sheridan pleaded. “Please.”

“I have to know,” he said softly. “I need to get to the bottom of this, before it blows up in both of our faces.”

Sheridan’s cheeks turned a light shade pink. “I started it. If I…didn’t get so nervous over something so stupid, everything would have been fine.”

Justin cocked his head to the side. “What’s stupid?”

Sheridan groaned. “I just…I asked her who was going to give you a bath. It’s so stupid…I shouldn’t have even asked. I just kept getting this image in my mind of this girl touching you. I guess you could call it jealousy,” she chuckled a little, then shrugged.

He brightened slightly. Despite the situation, Justin found it cute that Sheridan would be paranoid enough over another girl giving him a sponge bath, to ask about it. He felt himself smile. “You got jealous over me and my sponge?”

“You and your sponge?“ She let out a short burst of laughter. “I told you it was stupid,” she said, her amused expression beginning to fade as quickly as it came about.

“Well, what happened when you asked her?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “She said she was going to do it, and…she told me not to worry because she doesn’t have the time or the interest to steal you away from me.”

Elisha wasn’t like that. It was so strange to him. But then again, he knew Elisha was going through a lot of stuff too. Still he wondered…could one of her friends have done this? “Are you sure it was her, Sher?”

“She told me it was,” she supplied. “But I can’t really tell you either way, because I don’t know her like you do.”

Justin stroked his chin in thought. “What was her screen name? Do you remember?”

“Crabby patty,” she said. “I think…yeah…that was it.”

The name hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt his pulse quicken, and a wave of nausea washed over him. How? How could it be? He felt himself gag, but nothing would come up.

Sheridan gasped. “Justin!”

“I’m fine,” he said, coughing a little before managing to get a hold of himself. “Are you sure, Sheridan? Are you sure that was the name?,” he asked her.

She looked at him strangely. “Yes…I’m almost positive. Why?”

“Because,” he said, his voice quivering. “T-that was Trace’s screen name.”

“What?” Sheridan’s mouth hung open, and her eyes widened. “But--”

A knock came to the door just then, followed by his mother’s sweet questioning tone. He flinched. This wasn’t a good time to be interrupted.

“Justin,” his mother said softly. “Is everything okay?”

He didn’t take his gaze off of Sheridan. “Fine,” he called back.

“Did you find that letter?”

“Yes…I’ll be right there,” he said, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Okay well…I’ll be waiting for you,” she said.

“Justin,” Sheridan spoke up, once they were both certain his mother was out of range. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…that was his screen name, and the account was closed,” he told her.

She shot him a skeptical look. “Are you sure it was closed Justin? I mean, Elisha was his girlfriend…couldn’t she have kept it open, or taken his screen name?”

“No.” He shook his head vigorously. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t his normal name. He only used that name when he was on tour or on business with me,” he let go of her hand, and buried his face in his hands. “What the hell is going on?”

“Justin…I just--I don’t see how this could have happened. I’m sure Elisha must have assumed that screen name.”

He was sure he was losing his mind. He glanced around the room, looking for any sign of Trace…in a corner, sitting in the chair. He even backed up and glanced under the bed. Sure enough though, Trace was nowhere to be found. He almost laughed at himself? Was he that desperate for his friend? So desperate that he was willing to believe Trace contacted Sheridan through some weird internet vortex? “I’m losing my mind all over again,” he said sadly. “Right?”

“I told you I shouldn’t have said anything,” she groaned. “See?”

“I’m going to talk to her,” he said, more to himself than Sheridan.

“Who? Elisha?”

He met her gaze, and nodded. “Yeah.”

“No,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Just leave it.”

“I can’t,” he said. “If she said that stuff to you, I want to know why. And…well, if she didn’t…”

“We agreed that Trace isn’t a ghost,” she reminded him. “We agreed that he was just…a memory.”

He was silent for several moments. “You agreed,” he told her. “Not we.”

“Justin--”

“I’m getting to the bottom of this,” he said, not caring what she thought about it anymore. “I have to know. I mean…what if it was Trace? Wouldn‘t that be amazing Sher? Like…it would mean that he‘s been watching over us this whole time. That he was never really gone.”

“You’re talking crazy,” she said. She slid off the bed, and stood beside his chair. “You’re going to mess yourself up all over again. You’ve been doing good. You told me you haven’t see those things since that day by the pool.”

He never told her about that day on the bars. He wanted to of course, but he was afraid that if he told her, she would start to worry about him again. Or worse, call him insane. Even though Sheridan said she didn’t think he was crazy for seeing and talking to Trace, he was sure she thought it was weird. Anybody would think it was weird.

Bilbo had.

“I haven’t,” he lied. “But…I don’t know--”

“Trace didn’t IM me,” Sheridan stated. “Elisha did. And Elisha said those things to me. I‘m sorry if that‘s not what you want to hear…but it‘s the truth. Come on Justin, I know you’re not that naïve.”

He shrugged. “Okay,” he said sadly. “Don’t worry about it.” He reached over to his nightstand and pulled the letter his brother sent him out of the stack of CD’s, knocking over the photograph he‘d been sent as he did so.

“I’m not trying to brush this to the side,” she said, bending down to retrieve the photograph for him. “I just don’t want you to start---avoiding reality again.”

“Is that what I was doing?,” he chuckled. “Damn, at the hospital they just said I was…temporarily disturbed, or something.”

She rolled her eyes and handed him his photograph. “They were stupid at the hospital.”

He couldn’t help but steal a glance at the picture. He wondered if Sheridan had bothered to look at it, and if she had…did she realize who the boys even were?

“Your brothers,” she said, motioning to the picture. “Right?”

He half smiled. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers.”

“Half brothers,” he said, gazing at the picture again. “From my father’s second marriage. But…I don’t really consider them half brothers. We’re close…well, at least we were.” His shoulders sagged at the thought of never being able to share the same bond with the boys as he had in the past. He turned the picture face down.

“You’ll get to see them soon though,” Sheridan brightened. “When you go home.”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Lisa…that’s my stepmother, I think she feels uncomfortable sending them out here to see me. I can’t really blame her. I mean, I haven’t seen them since I was in the hospital and even then, it wasn’t a very pleasant experience.” He sucked in a breath, the memory of that day suddenly rushing back to him. He could still see the perplexed expressions on his brothers faces. The sorrowful look in his father’s eyes. He could still feel that pain in his gut. The pain that wouldn’t go away…

“Justin.”

He looked up at her. It was only then that he realized he’d started to cry. He quickly brushed the tears away. This was a bad time for him to lose it. Sheridan needed him to be strong for her today. “I’m fine.”

She shook her head and crouched down to his level. “No you’re not,” she whispered in his ear. She moved her hand under his chin and turned his head toward her. “Don’t try to pretend you are for my sake.”

He almost leaned in to kiss her, but then he saw the doorknob turn, and the door swing open. His mother stood there, a pleasant, but obviously forced smile resting on her face.