~~~~~*~~~~~

After saying goodbye to Clare, Justin made his way inside the hospital building and along the main hallway that led to the ICU. The path was now so familiar to him that he didn't have to think as he made his way towards the small offshoot ward where Libby was staying. Consequently, his thoughts were free to wander. And wander they did...

+ + +

It had been a long, hot mid–summer's day at the Compound, and the entire group had been hanging out around the pool area to cool off. They had all been too hot and bothered to work, or in the guys' case, rehearse.

With the sun directly overhead and the girls complaining that their work clothes were too stifling to be comfortable, the members of *NSYNC had cheekily suggested that the girls change into bathing suits and go for a dip in the pool with them.

Unbeknownst to them, the two women had already come prepared to take a swim, and they'd temporarily disappeared indoors to change into their bathing suits before returning several minutes later—much to the guys' surprise—in cropped bikinis that showed off their trim figures.

Justin had been mucking around at the poolside with JC. They'd both been trying to see how close each of them could balance on the edge of the pool with only the tips of their toes holding onto the side. So far, Justin had easily been winning, and as he'd glanced over at JC—who had just taken another tumble into the pool—to gloat about his superior balance, he'd caught sight of Libby removing the towel that she'd had wrapped around her waist.

All at once, he'd forgotten all about his game with JC, and the fact that he'd been balancing precariously on the edge of the pool. It'd only been when he'd heard the sound of laughter coming not only from JC, but also Chris and Joey that he'd realised that he'd been caught blatantly staring.

As he'd tried to deal with his sudden embarrassment and dry mouth, he'd realised that he'd begun to lose his balance. Quickly repositioning his feet and throwing his arms out at his side to make windmill like motions to reverse the inevitable, he'd soon realised that his actions had come too little too late. He'd toppled forward and fallen headfirst into the pool to the sound of his friends' bellows of laughter.

+ + +

As Justin entered Libby's room and glanced over at her bed, he felt the beginnings of another anxiety attack that had been keeping him awake for half of the night. First his heart began to irrationally race, and then he found himself unable to control his breathing as the panic overwhelmed him. The very thought of Libby's condition—and him being unable to do anything to help her—made him feel completely and utterly overwhelmed with fear and dread.

He made his way directly over to her bedside, letting the door close by itself behind him, and towered over her, frowning down at her still face. "Quit playing now, Libs," he told her sternly. "They're talking about doin' some kind of operation on you. You need to open your eyes now. I'm not kiddin'. I know you can hear me." He scanned her face desperately for some sign of a reaction and reached out to squeeze her hand.

"Come on, now. You're proper scaring me. Just open your eyes and look at me. Please..."

"I've been trying that all morning," he heard a voice say from behind him and Justin turned around to see Libby's mother standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in one hand and a vase of flowers in the other. She gave him a reassuring smile and walked across the room to place the vase of flowers on the small side table by Libby's bed. She glanced over at her daughter and smiled fondly before gesturing for Justin to take a seat in the visitor's chair.

At once he felt uncomfortable about taking the only available seat, but Catherine insisted and perched on the edge of Libby's bed before reaching out to hold her daughter's hand.

"You know, Elizabeth calls me every Sunday to tell me about her week," Catherine told him as she turned to meet his eyes. "I insisted on it as part of the agreement for her moving here."

Justin nodded and remembered how often Libby would mention her family in their conversations, and how she would often share stories with him about her childhood in England, growing up with her two older brothers.

"Your name gets mentioned quite a bit," Catherine said with a twinkle in her eye as she watched Justin's eyes linger on her daughter's face.

Justin turned to look at her in surprise causing Catherine to chuckle. She might've only just met him in the flesh, but she'd been hearing about him nearly every Sunday for the past two years. She'd known by the way her daughter gushed about him that the pair of them shared a special connection. And now that she'd finally met him, Catherine was convinced that he had romantic feelings for her daughter.

"Oh, yes. I remember the first time she called to say that she'd met you; she sounded so excited. I remember her saying that you were even better looking in person than in your pictures."

Justin cleared his throat bashfully.

"She's always had good taste in men, my Elizabeth," Catherine continued with a fond smile. "She's just never seemed to choose the right ones to date."

Justin's expression turned stony. He didn't need reminding how much of a jerk Libby's last boyfriend had been. It made him sick to his stomach to think that Dan could've been the last person that Libby ever loved.

"You've been good to her, Justin," Catherine said as she turned back to face Libby. "You all have, I know, but she always speaks so fondly of you. It makes me happy to think of her out here surrounded by such good friends. Just like her big brothers back home."

Brothers. The word stuck out to Justin, and he pouted sullenly. Of course Libby would've referred to him as a brother type, he thought bitterly. But surely he'd become more to her than that? Surely deep down she knew that he could be... wanted to be... more than just good friends? Would he ever get the chance to convince her to move him out of the 'friend zone'?

~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare sat in her office trying to think up questions for the competition that featured each month in the fan club's newsletter. It was something that the girls had to do in the penultimate week of the month, and as it was already the twenty–third, Clare realised that time was running away from her. She didn't want to drop the ball on her work responsibilities just because Libby was in the hospital. She needed to come up with a question for each member of the group by lunchtime and so far she was stuck on Joey.

It seemed like an easy enough task, but it was Libby's forte and not hers. Libby was the one who seemed to absorb and retain all the useless information about the group that the fans seemed to eat up. It was Libby who could recite which member preferred sweet popcorn to salt, or who refused to drink diet soda; which of them liked horror movies and who had a pine nut allergy. It was second nature to Libby, whilst it was practically torture for Clare.

She knew the guys very well—they were some of her closest friends—but that didn't mean that she could recite their favourite colours, or which was the first concert they each attended. Clare always wondered why a person would need to know such pointless information about a complete stranger, but the popularity of the newsletter proved to her that there were plenty of fans out there who did.

As she stared at the blinking cursor on her computer screen, Clare felt her mind go completely blank. There wasn't anything that she could think of to ask about Joey, let alone something that hadn't been mentioned in the newsletter before. She glanced at the digital clock in the bottom right hand corner of her computer screen and let out a deep breath. Just two hours to go until Libby's surgery. Two hours...

Justin had called an hour ago to let her know that there had been no change in the results of Libby's last scan, and therefore the surgeon had decided to go ahead with the scheduled operation. Clare had felt physically sick at the thought of her friend going through such risky surgery, but she'd also understood that there was very little alternative at this stage. Still, it was difficult for her to absorb the fact that in just over four or five hours’ time—the surgeon had estimated that the operation would last several hours—she would get the first full prognosis of Libby's condition. The thought filled her with anticipation and dread.

As Clare sat there morosely thinking about the operation, the door to her office opened unexpectedly and Lisa stuck her head inside. "Hello," she said as she eyed Clare's face carefully for signs that her interruption was unwelcome. "I thought I'd pop up and see you. Is that okay?"

Clare gave her friend a sincere smile and welcomed her inside. "That's nice, thanks."

Lisa took a few steps inside the office and closed the door quietly behind her. "Are you sure I'm not disturbing you?" She asked as she made her way over to Clare's side and bent down to give her a warm hug.

"No, no it's fine."

"Joey told me about the operation. He said you're going back to the hospital this afternoon?"

"Yeah..." Clare said as she met Lisa's concerned eyes. Clare could tell that there was a lot more that her friend wanted to say but she was holding back to prevent saying something that might upset her. "I'm gonna head out early today and go straight there."

"Would you like some company? It's perfectly fine if you don't, of course. I just thought I'd offer. I could drive, if you like?"

"I thought you hated hospitals," Clare remarked, touched by Lisa's suggestion. She normally had to be taken kicking and screaming anywhere near a hospital, so her offer took Clare by surprise.

"I know, I do. But I love you and Libby way more," she said with a fond smile and Clare felt a lump form in her throat. She'd promised herself that there were to be no more tears at work, and so she bit down hard on her bottom lip until she regained some control over her emotions. She gave Lisa a brave smile even as the tears shone in her eyes.

"Then I accept."

"Great!" Lisa said and perched on the edge of Clare's desk to get a better look at what she was working on. "Is there anything I can do in the meantime? I'm kinda just killing time now..." She glanced down at the random sheets of paper, printed emails and faxes that were covering the majority of Clare's desk and tried not to grimace. It was chaos. She'd never admit it to Clare, but she'd been tipped off by the older members of *NSYNC that Clare was currently struggling with her workload; and so her 'spontaneous' trip to her friend's office had really been anything but.

Clare let out a laugh at her friend's suggestion and turned to her with a smirk. Lisa was exactly the right person to help her out. She couldn't help but find the coincidence amusing.

"Actually, it's funny you say that..."

~~~~~*~~~~~

By late afternoon, the family waiting room at the hospital was packed with people waiting for news of Libby. Although the group realised that they were probably pushing the limits of the hospital staffs' tolerance by being there all together, no one had wanted to volunteer to be left behind and have to hear the news of Libby's operation second hand.

Libby had been in surgery for just over two and a half hours, and the wait for news had already begun to feel endless. Clare was grateful for the support of her friends; she wasn't sure how she would have handled the long wait without them.

Justin, meanwhile, couldn't bear to wait in the room with the others. He'd found their attempts to engage him in conversation irritating, and he'd needed space to deal with the tempest of emotions that were swirling around in his mind. He couldn't speak without biting someone's head off, and although he knew that his friends meant well, he just couldn't handle it. He'd gone and sat in his car in the car lot to wait it out alone.

Before Libby had been wheeled off for surgery, Justin had been in a temporary state of denial. He'd pretended to listen as the surgeon had gone over the risks of the operation with him and Libby's mother, and, despite the seriousness of the conversation, he'd felt strangely detached from it all.

It'd only been when the nurse had wheeled Libby's bed out of the room and towards the pre–op ward that he'd been snapped out of his trance. The emptiness of the place without her presence and the significance of the moment had hit him hard.

He'd stood there in silence and stared at the empty doorway, feeling completely alone. Even though Catherine had made her way silently to his side and reached out to squeeze his hand, he'd been unable to feel anything other than crippling dread at the fact that Libby had gone.

Will I ever see her alive again? He'd wondered. If she dies in surgery will I get the chance to see her one last time to say goodbye? What happens if there are complications? If the surgeons discover that her injuries are worse than expected and she never regains consciousness?

In his mind he could already picture the sight of the surgeons entering the waiting room, their faces sombre and apologetic as they explained that there was nothing that they could do... that she had already gone. What would he do? How would he even begin to comprehend it?

His heart had hammered away in his chest at the very thought of it and his breath had come in panicked gasps.

He couldn't lose her; it just wasn't the way that things were supposed to go. She was only eighteen, for goodness sakes. She was young and vibrant and still had the best years of her life yet to live... Not to mention the fact that he needed her... wanted her.

Was it right for both of their lives to be ruined by one stupid accident? Was that fair? She was his... she was always meant to be his...

~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare stared at the hands of the clock on the wall as they registered the passing of each minute. She'd now been waiting an hour and a half for news, and each second that passed seemed to be more agonising than the last. And yet, at the same time, she wished that the wait would go on forever. She realised that this was one of those instances that would change the course of the rest of her life forever. Whatever the outcome of the surgery, her and Libby's lives would never be the same.

Clare was bought back to awareness by JC suddenly striding across the room towards her from where he'd been standing in front of the closed door. He'd seen through the glass window that a doctor in a white coat was heading their way, and he'd put two and two together and figured that they were about to be given the news.

He reached out and took Clare's hand in his own, giving it a slightly harder squeeze than he'd intended—his own anxiety doing a number on his self–control. He needed to her to know that he was there—no matter what—but he couldn't form the words. He hoped that his eyes told her what he was unable to say.

Clare turned and looked at him, her face suddenly ghostly pale and her eyes wide. At that moment the long wait paled into insignificance, and if someone had told her that she'd only been waiting five minutes she'd have believed them.

Everyone stood to attention as Dr. Greene entered the room followed by another slightly older looking man. They both smiled politely at the group as they searched out Libby's mother's face in the crowd. As Libby's next of kin, Catherine was the person to whom the doctors would give the news.

Clare held her breath as her heart began to hammer away in her chest. She was grateful for JC's strong body standing so close beside her; without his strong, supportive presence by her side she was certain that she would pass out from the stress.

"Please allow me to present Dr. Martin," Dr. Greene said as the older man held his hand out to Catherine, who reached out to shake it politely. Everyone could see the tremor in her hand as she dropped it back to her side but her brave smile never faltered. Clare couldn't imagine how Catherine managed to keep such a calm facade in such a moment, but she certainly admired her for it. The fact that she was being so strong forced her to rein in her own emotions. If Catherine could handle it then there was no excuse for any of the rest of them to fall apart.

"Someone should find Justin," Clare heard a voice from somewhere in the room say and she noticed the door open and close as someone left momentarily to go and find him. There were too many people in the room for her to tell who it was that had left, but she was grateful to them all the same.

She felt as though she were in a strange dream and was aware of what was happening but detached from it all the same. Everything was happening in slow–motion as though someone had deliberately slowed time.

Justin appeared a few minutes later, and Clare was relieved that the doctors' had agreed to wait for him before continuing—all thanks to Catherine. She'd insisted that she wouldn't hear another word until the young man was present, and the act had filled Clare's heart with gratitude and respect for her. In just a few short days, Libby's mother had seemed to have developed quite an affection for the young man and was treating him just as though he were Libby's boyfriend.

"I am pleased to be able to tell you that Elizabeth has pulled through the operation remarkably well—" Dr. Martin said as he addressed the room.

Clare expelled her breath in a rush and she felt JC squeeze her hand encouragingly. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at him when she felt his eyes on her face, and they exchanged a look of relief. It was exactly what Clare had been hoping—praying—to hear.

"—There were a few moments when things were touch and go—brain surgery is never without its risks—but we have achieved our goal of reducing pressure from around the brain—"

The colour began to return to Clare's face, and she met Justin's eyes for the first time. Like her, he looked completely wrung out from the stress, but she could see the relief in his teary eyes from all the way across the room. He attempted a smile at her, even as his chin continued to tremble.

"—I can tell you that there is some residual damage from the accident, but there isn't anything that should cause lasting complications for Elizabeth." Dr. Martin smiled reassuringly at Catherine and paused, waiting for the inevitable questions that Libby's family and friends may throw at him.

"So what happens now?" Catherine asked him. Clare scrutinised the doctor's face as he prepared to answer. She knew that although Libby's operation had gone well, she still wasn't out of the woods yet; the operation was only step one on the long path to recovery.

Once again, Clare was overwhelmed with admiration for Catherine's ability to keep it together. She was amazed that the older woman was able to ask a sensible question given the news that they had just received. For she was bouncing between euphoria one minute and extreme anxiety the next.

"Well, unfortunately, there is never a standard path to recovery for patients with brain injuries. Ideally, the next step would be for her to begin to show signs of a return to consciousness, but there is no set time frame for this. Also, there is still a chance that Elizabeth's frontal lobe may have been affected by the accident."

"What does that mean?" Lance asked from across the room causing Dr. Martin to turn and look at him.

"Sometimes patients with a frontal lobe injury have a loss of long term memory; they can struggle with motivation or have difficulty understanding and displaying emotions. Occasionally they can struggle to display appropriate actions and may behave inappropriately, although they would be unaware of this."

There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone processed the news.

"But... she will recover?" Catherine asked, her voice catching in her throat for the first time.

Dr. Greene took a deep breath and spoke for the first time since introducing Dr. Martin. "There are no guarantees, but I can assure you that the operation has increased Elizabeth's chances considerably. Given her current medical state and the way her body has already responded, there is a good chance that she will pull through. This does, however, rely on her regaining consciousness. Of this we have very little control, I'm afraid."

So she's alive but still lost, Justin thought miserably as the doctor spoke. He'd naively imagined that if Libby survived the surgery then she would instantly wake up. He felt crushed by the reality of the situation—the nightmare had only just begun. Like most people, he'd heard stories of people who stayed in comas for months... years... What if that happened to Libby? What if she were one of the unlucky ones?

Justin felt something stab at his insides and his emotions began to bubble over as he was drawn further into his inner misery. The panic rose in his chest and he found himself unable to form a breath. He needed to get out.

To get as far—and as fast—away from the hospital as he could, but he was reluctant to burst out of the room and create a scene. As selfish as he could be, he wasn't that much of a jerk to worry his friends—and especially Libby's mother—about him when they had more pressing concerns.

He forced himself to stay where he was and instead focused on inhaling and exhaling evenly, using the ticking of the clock hands as a kind of metronome to help him focus. He counted each breath as he let it out, turning inwards until the voices in the room became merely background noise and the ticking and his breathing were the only identifiable sound.

Closing his eyes, Justin remained that way for several minutes before he felt a hand on his shoulder and he started at the touch. His eyes shot open to see Clare staring at him, her face contorted into a look of surprise and hurt. She pulled her hand away sharply and frowned at him.

"I said we can go and see her," she muttered as she eyed him warily.

Justin's eyes flicked away from her face to the now almost empty room and he wondered how long he had actually been meditating. Long enough for the room to clear, it seemed.

"What?" He asked in a slightly irritated tone as he turned back to look at Clare's face. This time her eyes narrowed into a genuine scowl.

"Libby. I take it you're not bothered about seeing her then?"

Justin narrowed his eyes back, not only at the stupidity of her question, but also at the narky way that she'd asked it. Of course he wanted to see her, but couldn't Clare tell that he was struggling just to keep himself together? Why hadn't she sensed that touching him had been a bad idea? That he was so close to losing it that he'd lash out at anyone at that moment?

"I... I don't think I can," he stammered as he tried to find a way to explain his feelings. The thought of seeing Libby still lying motionless in her bed made him feel as though he were suffocating all over again. The panic rose up once again in his chest.

"Didn't you hear the doc'?" JC asked him gently as he appeared at his side, his eyes flicking momentarily to Clare. She was still glowering at him, but Justin didn't care. She had no right to judge him. "She's over the worst, Justi—"

"I just can't..."

He wanted to explain, but how could he? How could he tell them that seeing her there would destroy him? That he'd set his expectations too high and now he was standing over the precipice facing the reality that emotionally he was about to lose her all over again? He couldn't do it... he couldn't let himself go there. He needed to get as far away from it as possible... he needed to run.

"Fine! Put yourself first as always! I don't need to think twice about it. I care about Libby!" Plus, I'm not a selfish bastard! Clare thought angrily as she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

She was disgusted by Justin's apparent cowardice, and she couldn't stand to look at him any longer. How could he be so selfish? How could he put himself before her dear, sweet friend? Wasn't he always making out that he loved Libby... that he'd do anything for her? And yet he couldn't even be there for her when she needed him; when she was at her lowest. Clare couldn't even comprehend his attitude; she certainly didn't need to think twice about being there for her friend. There was no hesitation on her part.

Unlike Clare, JC got it. He understood completely how Justin was feeling and had no feelings of ill will towards his friend. Were he Justin's age, he would probably have reacted in exactly the same way, but age and experience had matured him, as it would Justin.

He slapped his friend on the back and avoided his eyes, knowing how difficult Justin would find it to look him in the eye. Clare's reaction had been brutal, to say the least, but also undeserved. This wasn't about Justin's feelings for Libby. Of that he was certain, and he made a mental note to speak to Clare about it later. It wasn't fair for her to judge Justin at such an emotional time. Hell, they were all just trying to do their best to keep it together, weren't they?

"Head on home, man," JC said gently as he gave Justin's shoulder a squeeze and pretended not to notice as the youngster hung his head as his shoulder's began to shake.

JC glanced at the doorway, preparing to make his departure and follow after Clare, but then he heard his friend let out a tortured sob that went straight through him. The sound radiated around the room and JC grimaced as he turned back to look at Justin's devastated face. As he watched the youngster's knees buckled from under him and he sunk to the floor, landing in a crumpled heap by JC's feet.

"Dude..." JC said as he crouched down to put an arm around Justin's shoulders. It made little difference to Justin, and he continued to sob, the sounds emanating from his throat caused JC's eyes to fill with tears. It was gut wrenching watching his younger friend so upset and he hated the fact that there was nothing that he could do to comfort him.

"Come on, man," JC said as he tried to haul Justin up off the floor. "Let me drive you home. You don't have to be here right now."

"Libby..." Justin sobbed and JC immediately hushed him.

"Nah, man. Don't listen to Clare. Go home and get some rest and come back when you're stronger."

~~~~~*~~~~~

True to his word, JC drove Justin straight home to his mother's house. The car journey was made in silence but to his relief, when JC pulled up into the driveway, turned off the engine and looked over at his friend, he'd noticed that Justin had stopped crying and seemed to have some kind of grip on his emotions. His face had been hard, strained and pale, and JC had realised that it was a mask put there for his benefit. Once inside, no doubt Justin would return to the shivering, sobbing wreck that he'd been in the waiting room.

Despite knowing this, JC was relieved. He hadn't wanted to turn up at Lynn Harless' house with Justin looking as though his best friend had just died. Not only would it worry her, but it'd look bad on him. He was one of Justin's brothers, and he knew that it was his responsibility to take care of him. Even so he was struggling to deal with the up and down rollercoaster of his emotions.

After all, the doctor's update had been pretty positive—or so he'd thought—given the circumstances. Sure, he hadn't expected Justin to be jumping for joy, but neither had he expected his friend to have such an emotional breakdown over it either. Yes, Clare's harsh words hadn't helped, and he knew that they would torture Justin the more he thought about them. To accuse him of not caring about Libby had been cruel and unfair, but JC had known that Clare, too, was suffering herself from what had happened to her friend.

It was hard for JC, having to balance all of his friend's feelings whilst they were all so highly strung and emotional. He wasn't used to it, and was trying his best to be impartial and understanding to everyone. Even so, he was finding himself spending more time away from the group. It wasn't deliberate, but more for the protection of his own sanity. There was only so much he could handle before he, too, began to unravel.

He'd called Alyson—or rather she'd called him and he'd answered—and he'd found her a surprisingly easy shoulder to cry on. Since Libby's accident, he'd found all the drama surrounding him and his ex had blown over, and she'd been the one person he'd been able to talk to without any feelings of guilt or having to push his feelings aside to protect anyone. It had felt nice, and he'd refused to allow himself to second guess his feelings about it. He needed someone to talk to, and she was there for him. That was all it was.

~~~~~*~~~~~