Chapter 8 – Suffered Dreams

“Don't fucking touch me,” Chris snapped at Courtney, his voice laced with pain. One minute he'd been rehearsing with the rest of the guys, and the next a loud pop had him yelling out in pain as he hit the stage and grabbed his knee.

It looked like slow motion and all he wanted was to lay there a few moments. The guys were all hovering over him, asking questions. When their choreographer had come over, he lashed out.

“Sorry, Court,” he huffed, rolling over and getting up to his elbows.

“I've heard worse, Kirkpatrick,” Courtney said, giving him a sympathetic smile as she bent down, pushing tenderly on his knee with her fingertips and watching him grimace and break out in a sweat. “I think you need to go get checked out, Chris.”

“It's not too bad,” he said, cussing when Joey and JC helped him up. He couldn't take a full step and he put hardly any weight on his knee. “God, fuck...” His head swam and he bit his lip. To make matters worse, Adeline and Stephanie appeared out of nowhere and started peppering him with questions.

“Damn, you look pale,” Justin pointed out before he could answer the girls. “You gonna pass out?”

“With any luck,” Chris muttered, shaking his head. “Someone just shoot me and put me out of my misery. That's what they do with horses when they break their leg. Same difference.”

“You aren't a horse. Maybe a horse's ass at times,” Stephanie said, looking concerned when Chris didn't even crack a smile.

“Anyone makes an old man joke and I swear to God I'm breaking your nose,” he threatened, letting Joey help him toward the backstage. The two of them left the rest of the group on stage, slowly winding back down the hallway until they made it to a chair. “Let me sit down, man.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“If they give me painkillers, I won't be able to perform tonight,” Chris said, shaking his head a little. “I can't do that.” He closed his eyes when another shot of pain went through him as he moved his leg. “Fuck me,” he growled.

“Well, you aren't my type, but if you insist,” Joey joked, relieved when Chris flipped him the bird. “You know Johnny's gonna make you go.”

“I know.”

As much as he didn't want to, a trip to the local ER would tell him what was wrong with his knee and would hopefully yield some sort of pain medication that would equal to him not giving a shit about anything. At least that's what he was hoping for.

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“You're a horrible patient, Chris,” Stephanie said as Chris sat in silence with his legs dangling off the hospital bed at the emergency room. She'd agreed to go with him, along with one of the new bodyguards who was still sitting outside in the waiting room. “Let's see, what's in your wallet,” she teased, opening up Chris's wallet and pretending to pull out the contents. “Damn, you actually took a good driver's license picture. Jerk.”

“I try,” Chris responded, watching her fiddle with his wallet. “Don't mess up my pictures,” he said simply, watching her pull out various things.

“You sound like a girl. What's the big deal?”

Her eyes found a picture and she took it out and flicked to his face and back to the picture. It was one of him and Melissa. Chris was holding her close with his lips against her forehead and her eyes were closed, a slight smile on her face. They looked...in love. At peace.

“This is beautiful,” she said, showing Chris as he nodded, looking away.

“Justin took that picture a couple weeks before the tour started. There's another in there...” His voice was flat, eyes dull. “Apparently he likes to take pictures when no one is looking. Says there's more emotion in them.”

Stephanie shuffled through the various business cards and credit cards until she found what Chris was talking about. Her eyes stared, wondering if Justin knew what a genius he was. Melissa was clearly the kisser in the picture, her hand that was visible holding Chris's face, her palm resting on his cheek. A smile was on Chris's face that spoke volumes.

She put everything back in his wallet and handed it back to him silently. Chris had found what most people only dreamed about. And she knew that no matter how much he tried to forget, he wouldn't.

“Those were some good pictures.”

Before he could say anything, the doctor came back in the room. The diagnosis was a relief. No surgery was needed, but the ligaments were severely strained. He was given prescriptions for medication and a knee brace that he was to wear everywhere but the shower for the next six weeks.

“Mr. Kirkpatrick, I can't stress enough the importance of you not re-injuring your knee,” the middle-aged woman told him. “You absolutely must not dance for six weeks. Minimal walking for at least the next week. And you have to go back to the doctor after six weeks to be released. If anyone has any questions, my number is on my card.”

She held her card out to him and then held it tightly.

“If you don't listen to what I say, there is a very good possibility that you won't dance anymore.”

Chris swallowed hard and nodded. He hated the thought of being hurt and not being at his best. Scarier was the thought of not being able to perform like he knew he could.

“Thanks, doc. I'll make sure to let the choreographer know I'm down for the count for a while.”

“I can hear the griping already,” Stephanie told him as he signed the papers to be released. She stood up and watched him gingerly step down, the brace over his knee, placing the crutches the hospital had given him under his arms. “Is that helping any?”

“Give me a couple of shots of vodka and it will.”

“Very funny, Kirkpatrick.”

Stephanie pulled her phone out and pulled up Addy's name.

Tell General Dance-A-Lot the old man is out of commission for six weeks, she texted.

That might have been funny if you hadn't sounded just like Mel, the response came after a moment. Freaky.

Stephanie shook her head slightly and hit reply. He's not going to get over her. You know that, right? She figured Adeline knew, but it had to be said.

Denial is an ugly thing for us all.

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“How can I forget, baby we were the best...baby, I can't seem to give you up, you're mine. Summer days and summer nights...”

Melissa cut her eyes over to Gina, who was belting out the newest Mariah Carey song with gusto as they drove on I-30 toward downtown and Applebee's. She was still trying to figure out why Derek had let her out of the house with only minimal griping. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that she had begged and pleaded for two weeks to get out of the apartment. It was spotless and she'd made sure he was satisfied, with plenty of alcohol to keep him company. She would go home to him either passed out or waiting up for her, very drunk. Either way wouldn't be pleasant, but for right now it was worth it to have one of her favorite singers rip her heart into shreds.

Of course, Gina didn't know that.

“Ya know what's funny?” Gina asked loudly, looking over at the woman in the passenger seat, giving her a grin. “For bein' in New York City, ya sure don't talk 'bout it much. What'd ya do there? Besides class. I know ya didn't live at the school,” she said, rolling her eyes at Melissa.

“Might as well have.” Melissa looked out at the window at the traffic. “I just worked and went to class and came home. Nothing exciting.”

It was a lie, and she hated telling it. The taste of it was bad, but it was what she had to do.

“New York isn't all it's cracked up to be,” she said. If she tried hard enough, eventually she'd forget all the things that she had left behind...until the next time the thoughts entered her head.

“Whatever...” Gina shook her head. “Ya can't tell me ya didn't see all sorts of movie stars an' celebrities.”

Melissa harrumphed and let out a small chuckle. “I met a few, but eventually they just become like anyone else.”

“So who'd ya meet?”

“Robert Downey, Jr.”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

Melissa smirked as Gina stared, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“He was even dressed as Tony Stark.”

She was glad they were pulling into the parking lot, shouldering her purse. It was technically a lie, but hell...Gina wanted a story, so she would oblige. Then some day, when it didn't hurt so much, the truth would come out. Her mind wandered as they walked toward the door.

“So, Ms. Potts, how was the party?”

Chris's hand snaked up her leg, her skirt going up as well as he gently squeezed her thigh and maneuvered them through the city streets. He was still wearing the Iron Man costume, all but the mask.

“It was splendid, Mr. Stark. Although, I'm not sure as your assistant if you're allowed to do what you're doing,” Melissa replied, giving him a small smile, winding her fingers through his and giggling. They'd been over at Lance and Addy's Halloween party for the evening. “I still can't believe you let your goatee grow out like that.”

“You think it's sexy, right? All I've heard for a week is you giggling like a school girl when I'd shave.”

Now it was her turn to blush a bright red and not meet his face.

“And you were any better with this skirt and these heels?” she muttered. It had been difficult to leave to go to the party once they'd gotten ready. Chris had been sure to try and persuade her to be “fashionably late” as she drug him out the door, after wiping her lip stick off and protesting that if the real Tony Stark were there, he'd have gotten his way.

“Yeah, Weston...I've been thinking about that most of the day...”

“Weston...”

Gina looked confused and stared at her friend, who'd clearly space out for a few minutes.

“They said we could be seated, ya know.”

“Oh, okay.”

Melissa was thankful Gina didn't ask what she'd been thinking about. Her eyes traveled over the other patrons that were at the packed restaurant, glad that she'd bought a couple of new shirts with the tip money she'd gotten a few nights ago. It wasn't much, but it made her feel slightly better about herself.

She sat down across from Gina and gave her drink order, looking around once more at all the people there. It would sound like she was paranoid if she admitted out loud that she wouldn't put it past Derek to show up, even drunk.

Trying to shove that thought down, she looked at the menu.

“So what are you going to order?” she asked the redhead, glad when Gina answered and started talking about something else. It almost felt normal.

Almost.

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“How's the knee?”

Chris shut his eyes and tried to sigh inwardly. He could think of a lot of adjectives to describe it; none of which would be fit for the dark blonde child – who was currently hiding in a rack of costumes playing hide and seek with his Uncle Joey – to hear. Turning his head slightly, he just shrugged at Addy.

“Painkillers are wonderful, Ad. I keep asking for something stronger, but no one will give it to me.”

“You didn't take more than you were supposed to, did you?” Adeline narrowed her eyes at Chris and studied him carefully. “Chris...” She hated to sound like his mother, but she was worried about him.

“Fuck, Adeline,” Chris growled softly, grimacing when he got up too fast, the brace and crutches not letting him get away from her fast enough. “Give me a little credit.” He hobbled over to a corner of the room, knowing she was following him. “I'm going to go out there and put a smile on my face and sing. Isn't that what the fans want?”

He turned to face her, shaking his head slightly.

“Just...leave me alone. It's my own personal Hell every night...I need five minutes to just...be left alone.”

Addy studied Chris's face. She could see a slight sheen of sweat already on his forehead. He refused to use the crutches a lot of the time, leaving him putting too much pressure on his knee trying to limp, usually followed by a string of cuss words that even left Joey impressed. Pressing her lips together, she fought not to say something that would make it worse.

Instead, she straightened his shirt collar and gave him a small smile and nod before stepping away. Her steps were quicker the farther away she got from him, glad that she held it together until after she'd gotten out of the dressing room to wipe the tears coming down her face.

Sucking in a breath and letting it out, she shook her head slightly. It wasn't just Melissa being gone. It was everything that was happening. The other guys had their own way of dealing with their stresses, but Chris acting like he was had them all worried.

“Here.”

Stephanie's voice startled her as a tissue appeared.

“You go back in there crying and God help me...this is worse than a day time soap opera.” Her tone was only slightly joking and she watched the other woman sniffle. “At least we don't have a 'Making Of' or some other various camera crew following every move.”

“Don't say it too loud,” Addy said with a slight smile, balling up her tissue. “Someone will get the idea and then we'll have to see if Joey still wears his Superman underwear. He'd show it off just because he could.”

“I have no desire to see 'the Phat One' in anything less than all the clothes he owns,” Stephanie replied with a slight grimace.

“Don't hate the bears, Steph.” Adeline looked at her as she looked confused. “Mel used to call Joey and Chris the bears – 'cause they're burly and, well...hairy.”

“Yeah, that's so not my type. She's welcome to them.”

Adeline just tossed the tissue in the nearest trash can without a reply. It was a relief when JC poked his head out of the dressing room and told them to get back in there to do the before-show prayer. It saved her from having to come up with an answer. Not only that, but it kept her mind from going off onto other tangents.

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Melissa sipped the last of her Coke through her straw and looked up at one of the televisions that were scattered around the restaurant. Gina had excused herself a moment ago so she was left at the table. The TV was on silent and she was no lip reader, but the headline at the bottom of the screen caught her attention.

'NSYNC's Chris Kirkpatrick injured during 'Take Back The Night' tour – Kirkpatrick was treated and released from the hospital Tuesday afternoon. Johnny Wright, manager, said that the injury was being treated with “rest and doctor's orders”...

The next headline scrolled across the screen, but it didn't matter. Even though it was nothing life-threatening, it felt like it could have been that way for all the good it did to not know about it. It was now Thursday.

She couldn't fault anyone. No one withheld information. There was just no time for the internet and her cell phone was one to be used for precisely that – it's all she had the money for.

Besides that, she had made an agonizing decision this afternoon. She pulled out her phone, knowing she needed to get it done before she lost the nerve.

She brought up the web and logged into Facebook. She had to be quick, or Derek would be pissed if he saw that she had run up the data usage on the bill. She didn't bother to read through her feed one last time – she didn't want to see anything that they had been up to. There was no reason to have an account to remind her every day of what she didn't have in pictures and words.

'Are you sure you want to delete your account?'

It took a moment and a deep breath for her to gather the courage to click the 'yes' button. All the pictures, the memories of her friends and Chris turned off. Essentially inaccessible. That's what she wanted. At least that's what Melissa had told herself as she clicked it.

'Any time you want to come back, just re-enter your log-in information...'

She wanted to tell the social media site it wasn't that easy, but there was no place to put a suggestion or complaint.

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Chris opened his eyes at the chime his phone gave, reaching over and feeling around for the phone in the space where it sat in his bunk.

“What the hell do you want now,” he muttered to the object, the glow making him squint for a few moments.

'You are no longer in a relationship' the Facebook notification said, making Chris click on the link that was provided, wondering why it just showed up. It still showed his name and the heart, but the words and Melissa's name were gone. He grunted as he rolled over, his knee not liking the movement.

The search bar at the top of the Facebook popped up and he typed in her name. It came up with quite a few Melissa Weston's, but none were her. He frowned more, pulling his curtain back. There was still a glow from the television in the back.

“Hey Joe...” he said, glad when he heard shuffling coming toward him.

“Yeah?” Joey asked, letting out a yawn, stopping at Chris's bunk. “I was almost asleep, man.”

“Sorry...” He thrust his phone at Joey after getting back to the message he'd received. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Joey pressed a few buttons and pursed his lips, handing Chris back his phone after a few minutes.

“It means she shut down her account. If you haven't noticed, she's not on Twitter anymore either. Sucks ass.”

“But that means she shut it down recently, right?” Chris said quickly, wanting to grasp at anything he could.

“Dude, I dunno. I just looked and noticed all her time line feed was gone. I figured you knew...” Joey's voice trailed off.

“Thanks,” he grunted, shoving his phone back in its spot after pulling the curtain closed once more. Chris was glad for the darkness, that he could let his sadness swallow him whole and no one would see. That he could let a few tears slip down his face, hitting the pillow. If he let a few out at a time, Chris told himself he wouldn't completely break down.

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'I miss New York. It sounds ridiculous that I never dreamed I would miss a place, but I do. Arkansas is no longer home. It just feels like Hell. And I spend the minutes I'm awake wanting to be somewhere else. The only time I feel at peace is when I'm asleep. I can dream and be back in our apartment in bed with the rain hitting the window. I always woke up, somehow. And I always woke Chris up when it stormed, scared of the thunder.

I miss his voice. His lips. The way his body felt against mine as he distracted me. But those aren't the best dreams. The best dreams are the ones where I see him again. I don't ever say it out loud, but I have my doubts that will happen.

Derek keeps me on a short leash. Even if it did pull out further, there is never a chance he'll let me stray again. Fear is a good deterrent. As much as my heart breaks every day, I would rather die than let Chris be hurt. Or anyone else. I'm strong enough to do that...even though it chips away at my soul a little more every day. I can see myself becoming a shell of who I was, even more than before. I put on a smile at work because I have to. Other than that, there is no reason to smile. It's just a survival trick.'

Re-reading the words, Melissa shut the diary and shoved it farther under her mattress. She bit her lip, finding the other thing that made her feel marginally better. The beads warmed up in her hands as she held part of the rosary. Even if it was just a symbol of something else, it made her feel important. Like God was listening, even if no one else was.