~~~~~*~~~~~

Lance and Jenny sat together on the deck at the rear of Lance's new Florida home, cuddled up as they watched the stars in the night sky above them. They had both officially started dating not too long after Libby's accident, although they had been keeping things low key and hadn't yet said anything to their friends.

Lance had been shocked by Justin's reaction to Libby's accident. Not by Justin's feelings—he was already well aware of those—but by how devastated he'd been at what had happened. He'd realised that his friend was most upset about the fact that he'd never really told Libby how he felt about her, and it upset Lance to think that he never might. It had caused him to analyse his own heart, and he'd decided that life was too short not to grasp at happiness with both hands. Consequently, he'd opened himself up to Jenny and told her how grateful he was to have her in his life.

Lance cleared his throat and pushed forward with the toes of his sneakers, setting the swinging bench that he and Jenny were sitting on back into a swinging motion. They'd been sitting in a comfortable silence for a while but Lance had remembered that earlier in the evening Jenny had mentioned that she had something to tell him. And now that he'd remembered, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"So what's this news?" He asked her as he pulled her closer to him with his arm and smiled as she settled back against his chest.

Jenny was silent for a moment and then let out a little sigh before turning her head to look at him. He could tell at once at the change in her face that he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

"I've got to go back to Missouri," she said evenly, watching his face carefully for a reaction. Lance met her eyes, his stomach sinking with disappointment.

"When?"

Jenny sighed again. "A week or two. My mom is unwell and when this semester's over I'm going home to look after her."

Lance nodded sadly. He knew that Jenny's mother hadn't been well for a while and he was sorry to hear that she seemed to be deteriorating. He knew that Jenny was close with her family and it didn't surprise him at all that she would want to be at home to help out, but still he couldn't help but feel disappointed for himself.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it serious?"

"It's quite serious. Dad said the doctors told him that it's treatable, so she'll be okay. But he's struggling to take care of her and the house. He needs me there, and I want to be there for mom, too."

Lance listened in silence but nodded encouragingly as she spoke. He knew that were he in the same position that he would do the same thing. Neither could he ignore the fact that he, too, would soon be leaving to go on tour for several months. It would be pointless and selfish of him to try and convince Jenny to change her mind when he was about to leave as well.

"You'll call though, right?"

Jenny smiled although it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course," she said, "If you want me to."

"I will," Lance replied earnestly. "I know I'll be busy with the tour but I'll look forward to hearing from you." He bowed his head and placed a kiss on Jenny's lips. He knew that he'd miss her like crazy when she went away but he was also a firm believer in the saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', and he knew that they'd be okay.

‘The dove is a sign of peace,
The dove is a sign of love.
But only us two people
Know of the purple dove.

When night stars are shining and twinkling up above,
Always keep an eye out for the purple dove.
It flits so fast across the sky; it brings back old memories to me.
As you sit and watch it fly by, you'll know it was sent by me.
From the night sky it came, telling you I miss you,
Its soft coo reminds me of your voice, so distant and far away.
If your eyes were open you missed it,
For its only in our minds.

But when the sun goes down and there's only night sky.
If you see a purple dove remember that a loved one sent it from afar,
She says she misses you and wishes you were here.
But only if you're true to me will the purple dove appear.
So sing a song of peace, sing a song of love,
Sing a song of glory and the purple dove.'

~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare sat alone in the office feeling sorry for herself. Ever since JC's announcement, the Compound had become another place where she found it almost unbearable to be. It didn't help that she kept bumping into him at work, either. It seemed that the Universe had a sick sense of humour and kept forcing them to face each other even though it was obvious to everyone else that they were trying their best to avoid doing just that.

Clare knew that it was crazy, that they'd never actually been a couple and therefore she had no reason to feel this way, but she couldn't help feeling as though he'd betrayed her. He'd had no right to lead her on and kiss her like that if he'd also been spending time romantically with his ex. She'd never have allowed him to make the moves on her that night if she'd known however much she might've wanted him to.

Since his revelation, Clare had tried her best to remain professional around JC, but it had become a daily struggle; especially when they were in the company of the other guys.  The anger and resentment that she felt for him had no appropriate outlet and so it grew inside of her making her feel bitterer every day.

Clare was almost finished with the latest update of the official *NSYNC website when her desk phone started to ring. It was the first time that it had rung all morning—which was unusual—but at least it had meant that she had been able to carry on with her work without interruptions.

"You've reached the official *NSYNC fan club. My name is Clare, how can I help you?"

Clare listened to the voice on the other end as it mumbled on, her face turning the colour of beetroot and her blood pressuring rising with each passing word. Part of her wanted to slam the phone straight down in the receiver but she was too professional for that. She half–listened as she mentally told herself to get a grip and take a deep breath, preparing her answer for when she would inevitably be given the chance to speak.

"No, he's not around," she said finally putting just enough edge in her voice to get her point across. "This is an official number for the fan club and is not for personal calls. I will pass on your message on this occasion but in the future you need to call him on his personal number. Goodbye."

Clare slammed the receiver down and placed her hands on the desk in front of her, her fingers shaking with the tension of keeping it together. There was no other word for it—she was fuming.

Fighting the voice inside of her that told her to remain professional and not let her emotions get the better of her, Clare rushed to her feet and stormed out of her office heading straight towards the stairwell.

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Sup?" Chris asked Clare as she appeared in the doorway of the games room downstairs only a few minutes later. In his hand was a pool cue, and he shifted his body weight so that he was leaning against it while he waited for Joey to take his turn.

As he gazed at her casually, Chris noticed the furious expression on Clare's face and he quickly—and slightly comically—made his way over to the other side of the pool table where he could watch what looked to be an apparent show–down from a safer distance. Joey straightened up from where he was bent over practicing his shot and exchanged a look with Chris, who shrugged back innocently.

"I've got a message for you," Clare spat as she found JC sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. He looked up in surprise at the sound of her voice, and noticing the expression on her face, his eyes widened in alarm. "Alyson wants you to call her," Clare sneered, letting the words linger in the air for a moment, aware that the other members of the group had sucked in sharp breaths and turned to look at JC, awaiting his response.

"I am not your personal answering service, nor am I a secretary, so don't use me as one! In future, if you want your personal calls answered then give out your cell number not the number to my office. Because if I get any—and I mean any—personal calls for you again, then I will break both of your legs!"

She turned on her heel, her face flushing scarlet, and stormed back out the way she'd come without another word.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Lisa stood hesitantly outside the door to the college auditorium where her next class was scheduled to be held. She leaned forward onto the balls of her feet, tilting her three inch cream stilettos forward until she was able to peer into the small glass window in the centre of the door. It sucked being short, she grumbled to herself as she peered through the glass and focused her eyes on the lecturer's podium.

To her relief, she noticed the absence of her lecturer's bag, which assured her that he hadn't yet arrived. It meant that she still had some time left to decide whether she really wanted to attend this class, or not.

Since waking up that morning, Lisa hadn't been feeling at all well and she'd carried the niggling feeling in her stomach that she was making a mistake attending the day's lectures the entire journey to campus. She'd forced herself to make the effort, but now that she was almost in class, she'd had to fight the devil on her shoulder that had been persistently asking her why she'd bothered.

She didn't have a retort.

"It's not like I'm missing anything important anyway," she muttered to herself before quickly ducking out of the way of the door as another student tried to brush past her to get inside.

She watched them plod across the floor and ascend the carpeted steps before claiming a seat in the third row and Lisa realised at that moment that she had no intention of following them. She hoiked her backpack higher onto her right shoulder and turned, preparing to make her escape now that she'd actually made her decision.

Lisa couldn't fight the voice of her conscience that told her that this was wrong; that it wasn't like her to want to skip class, and that something had to be up for her to do so. But she shrugged it away, not wanting to dwell on it.

She just wasn't feeling well, she told herself as she made her way along the corridors of the college in the direction from which she had just come. She'd been feeling nauseas and dizzy for a couple of days and had assumed that she was coming down with the fluey stomach bug that she'd heard had been doing the rounds.

She let out a small sigh as she turned the corner of the building and headed straight for the nearest exit, which conveniently happened to open onto to the same car lot where she'd parked her car. It wouldn't have been right for her to knowingly risk infecting the rest of her class mates with her illness, she continued to assure herself. And, it could be argued that staying away was actually a pretty selfless act. It was something that she'd have to remind herself later when the feelings of guilt came back to haunt her.

Lisa punched down onto the metal push bar on the door with the heels of her hands and stepped outside into the bright sunshine. She squinted against the glare and reached for the pair of sunglasses that she'd pushed back onto the crown of her head. Sometimes the sun in Florida was just too damn bright, she thought moodily as she stepped down the curb and headed straight for her car.

Despite being a fully grown woman and more than capable of making her own decisions, Lisa couldn't help but fall into a little skipping jog as she headed towards her vehicle. Even though she had no intentions of changing her mind, she still didn't want to be caught in the act of sneaking off campus. She was a goodie–goodie at heart and probably always would be.

It was only once she was safely inside the car, with her seatbelt secured around her chest and waist and the vibration of the engine trembling away beneath her feet and purring in her ears, that she felt the full sense of relief wash over her. I've done it! A rebellious smile tugged at her lips as she backed out of the bay and steered the car out of the lot and towards the freeway.

She lowered the window and let the breeze send her hair fluttering around her face. She was going to go home, run a bath and soak away her worries.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Libby felt herself 'wake' with a start from yet another dream where she was lying on a sandy beach, completely unable to move her arms or legs or even speak a word, as the waves continued to crash steadily closer and closer to her body. She'd felt the panic rise up within her, but just like all the other times, she'd been unable to do anything to help herself from being washed out to sea. It was eerily similar to the way that she felt when she was 'awake'.

Libby had spent quite a bit of time in and out of wakefulness since the accident. Enough to be able to tell the difference between the two, anyway. Although she had no awareness of time or space, she could definitely tell when she was dreaming. Purely because usually in her dreams she was completely mobile and able to say all the things that she'd been struggling—craving—to say but couldn't.

She'd had a dream where she was ten again and back in the UK, reliving the moment when she'd first met Clare. Only this time, instead of having been the shy, reserved girl that she'd been on that fateful meeting, she'd reached for her friend and pulled her into a bone–crushing hug, crying and sobbing into her hair as she'd told her—over and over—how much she loved her.

She'd had dreams about the rest of her friends, too. She'd chewed out Lisa for having still not answered Joey's proposal and then set about arranging the most avant–garde and ridiculous wedding that Lisa had flatly refused to be involved in.

She'd dreamt that Chris had grown his hair so long and thick that he'd made it into a makeshift canoe and they'd sailed around the world's oceans together, sharing stories about his time as a merman and her as a toreador.

And Justin... there had been so many involving Justin. It surprised her how big of a presence he had in her subconscious and they were usually the dreams that she tried to fight away, the feelings of panic and grief afterwards almost overwhelming and suffocating her. They were the kind of dreams that she almost wished that she would die from rather than having to have them come to an end. Especially from the fact that they felt so real... his blue eyes staring longingly into hers; the way he'd pull her into his arms and hold her as if he would never let her go, and his kisses... Oh, his kisses. If she'd been able to physically cry then she was certain that she'd have shed an ocean of tears over the way he'd kissed her in her dreams.

Even though she had no idea whether it were day or night, Libby was occasionally able to focus enough on her surroundings to make sense of what was happening around her.

She was aware when the nurses came in to take her blood pressure and change her catheter bag. At lunchtime, when she'd hear the squeaking wheels of the lunch trolley passing by her room. Even the sounds of the evening staff greeting their day counterparts and clocking on. They were usually so happy to see each other, their meetings loud and often raucous.

There was one particular part of her day which Libby had come to recognise; early in the morning a woman would come into her room to sweep and mop the floors. Although she never said a word to her, Libby had come to recognise the same tune she whistled as she went about her work. It was comforting to hear her each and every morning.

Not too long after this, a nurse would usually arrive to run through a series of physio exercises so Libby wouldn't develop bedsores from staying still for so long. She would manipulate her arms and legs to help prevent muscle wastage and to keep her joints flexible. The only reason that Libby knew this was because the nurse had explained to her—before even touching her—what she was about to do and why. It had meant so much to Libby to be treated as a person, rather than just a body in a bed.

She was so grateful to all the staff for the way they spoke so kindly and encouragingly to her as they carried out their work. The overwhelming fear and horror she'd felt at her situation had had the edges smoothed off somewhat by the way the hospital staff seemed to understand that she was still able to hear and understand them. And although she wasn't able to respond, she still deserved to be told what was happening to her, and why.

Libby hoped that one day she'd be able to tell them how helpful and reassuring they had been and how much she'd appreciated their kindness. It was important to her that if she did manage to find a way out of the darkness that she remember the lesson's that she'd learned, and how the small things in life were really the most important.

Had the staff not been so understanding and considerate, Libby felt that she would most likely have remained completely petrified by what was happening to her. It was such a surreal and terrifying feeling to be in the world and yet find it completely out of her reach.

She was conscious enough to realise that her accident had somehow detached her mind from her body, and she knew that until she found a way to reconnect the two that she would be stuck in this horrific, endlessly black reality that she found herself in. Often, the thought made her want to cry and scream out loud, but most of the time she simply found herself drifting back into a dream–like state. Her body couldn't seem to handle the intense stress thinking about her situation caused her and it usually just shut her thoughts and emotions down straight away and forced her to sleep. Like hitting the sleep button on her laptop computer.

When she did fall asleep, Libby's dreams were vivid and extreme, similar to when she'd had a fever in the past. A lot of the time her subconscious recounted her accident, and she saw herself from other perspectives as she crashed—again and again—into the rock face. Once, she'd even been the person who'd found her crumpled body at the bottom of the cliff though, thankfully, she had woken herself quickly from that particular nightmare. More often than not, she was merely hovering around herself like a cloud as she witnessed the event unfold.

Although she was able to recognise some voices, Libby found it difficult to remember exactly who they were, and why they were there. Often, she felt exhausted just from trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, and her head ached after her visitors had left. Really all she wanted was someone to reach out and hold her hand; tell her that they loved her and that everything was going to be okay.

~~~~~*~~~~~