It had taken much longer than Justin wanted for them to get on a plane heading for New Orleans. While it'd taken them no longer than a half hour to get back to Lance's, the next flight out of Orlando to New Orleans wasn't for at least two hours. Part of Justin had wanted to throw a diva fit and demand a private jet, but that would've drawn attention they didn't want. Not yet anyway; not until they at least had an idea as to what was going on.

They were finally on their way, but they hadn't been able to get four seats near each other. Lance and Chris were sitting towards the front, while Joey and Justin were a couple rows from the back of the plane. Something that wasn't necessarily a bad thing since it gave Justin the opportunity to talk about Chris.

"What's up with Chris?" Justin asked Joey, keeping his voice low even though there were several rows separating them from Lance and Chris.

Joey glanced at him and shrugged. "Beats me."

Justin frowned. "That's all you got? I would've thought he'd talk to you."

"Nah." Joey paused and amended, "I mean, we've talked, but not about anything important or really serious. We've just been getting together to go clubbing and stuff."

"And you haven't noticed anything?"

"You mean besides him jumping down your throat?" Joey said, raising an eyebrow.

Justin nodded. He found it very hard to believe that he'd pissed off Chris enough to deserve the way he'd talked to him at Lance's and the way he'd been ignoring him since they left. Hell, Justin had barely talked to him in two weeks. To say he was beyond confused by his friend's behavior was an understatement.

Joey sighed, glancing around them before looking at Justin. He lowered his voice and said, "He got into a fight at Chillers the other night."

"What?" Justin sat up a bit, almost trying to peer over the seats in front of him to get a glimpse of Chris even though he knew he couldn't see him or Lance from where he was sitting.

Joey tugged on his shirt, forcing him to sit back completely in his seat. "It started off as just a few words said and then the wrong words were said. It just escalated from there."

"How bad?" Justin asked. He was curious how bad the fight had gotten and just how much Chris had hurt the other guy because Chris certainly didn't look like he'd gotten into a fight just a couple days ago. But then, there were other places to hit than the face.

Joey seemed to understand what Justin was asking and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Pretty bad. I mean, no one went to the hospital or got arrested or anything. But Chris definitely did a number on the guy."

"And Chris?"

"Just some bruising to his chest and stomach. The guy was too drunk to do any real damage."

"What made him do it? Why would he snap like that?" Justin asked. While it was true that Chris had a temper on him, he wasn't usually violent unless he or someone he knew was being threatened. And drunk assholes saying stupid stuff wasn't usually enough to push him into physical violence.

Joey shook his head and shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You didn't talk to him afterwards? Ask why he lost it like that?" Justin said, frowning.

"Of course!" Joey replied. "I tried to talk to him, but he didn't want any parts of it. All he said was that it was stupid and he wouldn't let his anger take over like that again."

Justin looked at Joey. "What's he angry about?"

"If I knew, don't you think I'd tell you?" Joey said, showing his slight agitation. "But based on what happened earlier, I'd say he's angry at you."

"But why? I didn't do anything!"

"Well, you had to have done something because he hasn't treated me or Lance like that," Joey pointed out.

Justin let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what then."

"Don't worry about it. Ten to one, it's probably something stupid and he's just taking it out on you."

"You're probably right, but that doesn't make it okay for him to be an asshole," Justin said. "Especially considering we have no idea what happened to JC."

A long moment of silence fell over the two of them, allowing them to hear the murmurs of quiet conversations going on around them. It was broken by Joey speaking softly.

"Do you really think something is wrong?"

As Justin's thoughts immediately went to JC, his stomach clenched. "Yes," he said without any hesitation.

"But you could be wrong, right? There's no way you actually know he's not okay."

Justin realized that Joey wasn't saying that because he didn't believe him. It was his way of giving himself some hope to hang on to. So Justin turned his body slightly to face Joey and look him in the eye, which was kind of difficult in the cramped space.

"I wish to God I was wrong, but I just have a really bad feeling about this whole thing. And I know it's a feeling I can't ignore. JC's counting on me. On us."

"How can you be so sure we'll find him?" Joey asked. "And if he is in danger, what if we don't find him in time?"

Justin swallowed roughly, hating hearing his own fears being vocalized. But he forced those feelings aside. He wasn't going to accept failure on this.

"We'll find him, Joe," Justin said, his intense blue eyes staring into Joey's soulful brown ones. "I won't leave until I do."

**********

JC shifted on the bed uncomfortably, the combination of heat from his body and the weather making it unbearable to lie on the cotton sheets beneath him. He had never been so hot before in his life, and he swore that never again would he complain about the hot, muggy Florida summers. Even knowing it would be over in just under seventy-two hours didn't help.

The fever seemed to be messing with his head because he kept thinking about Marlene. A few thoughts were along the lines of the disbelief he had that she was doing this to him - had essentially kidnapped him and was now torturing him. But mostly, his mind kept going back to that moment he saw her in that bar and how they'd sat for hours talking. Something that had surely been her intention.

What JC hadn't intended on this impromptu vacation he took was to meet someone and even trust them enough to go back to their place. But in his defense, she had seemed very trustworthy. Nothing about her appearance had said "I know voodoo and will use it against you unless you agree to be with me."

The first two days of his vacation, JC had spent much of his evenings at Preservation Hall, which was a jazz place that was strictly about the music since it didn't even have a bar. During the day, he'd sleep late and then go out onto his balcony overlooking the French Quarter and allow the sights and sounds provide him a muse. Within the first day of arriving, the blues music that was carried on the wind as he sat outside with a croissant had broken his writer's block.

It was on the third day that he'd gone to a local place nearby on Bourbon street for lunch and was told to check out The Apple Barrel for some great local blues music. So that night JC had walked several blocks to the bar and he'd settled himself at a booth to listen to the local musicians. He'd been enjoying the music so much that he hadn't even realized right away that someone was standing nearby until they cleared their throat.

JC had torn his eyes away from the band that was currently on the small stage and his eyes had locked with a pretty young brunette. She had been wearing a light cotton dress that fell just above her knees. Her hair had gentle waves that framed her face, her eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.

"Do you mind if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," she'd told him.

JC hadn't, gesturing for her to take a seat. She'd smiled and introduced herself, and from there, they'd gotten to talking. They'd talked about how great the music was and how some of it was reminiscent of the original blues musicians. After spending the last few days keeping to himself, he'd enjoyed having the company and learning more about the culture from a local.

"If I didn't know who you were, I would've mistaken you for a local," she'd said.

JC had been impressed that she'd recognized him but had been very cool about it, treating him like he was any other guy. It was something they all enjoyed when it happened, and it'd made him like her even more. They'd talked and drank until the bar closed and that had been when she'd invited him back to her place.

There'd been a brief moment of hesitation, part of JC so exhausted that he just wanted to go back to his hotel and sleep. But she'd enticed him by saying she had some CDs of a new blues band one of her friends was in that he would love. It wasn't often that he was able to turn down a chance to hear new music and he'd really been having fun with her, so he'd finally agreed. And that had been his biggest mistake.

It had been a bit of a walk to her house, but it hadn't been too bad. She lived on a quiet street in a small building that looked as if it'd been there for at least the last hundred years. Once they were inside, she'd offered him a bottle of water before putting on one of the CDs she'd mentioned.

They'd relaxed on her couch, JC enjoying the music immensely. He'd actually gotten so wrapped up in it that he hadn't realized how close she was until she had leaned against his shoulder. She'd kissed the corner of his lips, and he'd turned his head, looking at her in surprise.

But turning his head had just given her easier access to his lips. She'd kissed him full on the lips, her right hand running through his hair at the back of his head. JC had gently tried to push her away, but she'd just pressed herself against him even more, her lean body forcing him to lie back against the arm of the couch.

JC had pushed against her again, but hard enough that he actually caused her to fall back. He'd gently rubbed at the back of his head where her grip had managed to pull out some hair and had looked at her.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this," he'd told her.

"Why not? You don't have a girlfriend. You told me so."

"No, but I'm not really ready for another relationship. I thought we could just be friends."

That had been the wrong thing to say, and JC had realized it as soon as the words had left his lips. She hadn't said anything, but her eyes had narrowed, seeming to darken. JC had taken that as his cue to leave and had risen from the couch, planning on doing just that.

"I think I better go. It's getting pretty late," he'd said. He hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when he suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his knee. It'd immediately made him buckle, dropping to the old wooden floor.

JC had tried to get to his feet, but it had been impossible with the excruciating pain in his knee. He'd heard footsteps walk around before they'd stopped just in front of him. Looking up, he had noticed with a sick feeling in his stomach that she was holding a cloth doll with a black needle sticking out of the area where the doll's knee would've been.

"You can't go, JC. We were just getting to know each other," she'd said, her tone soft and sweet, but her eyes hard and dark.

What happened after that had been too quick for JC to comprehend or try to stop it. She'd removed the pin from the doll's knee and the pain had instantly lifted in his own. But then it'd been quickly replaced by a blinding pain in his head. It had been so intense that all of the sudden, things had gone black. When JC had come to a while later, he'd discovered he was in an old bedroom and handcuffed to the bed.

JC sighed heavily, forcing himself back to the present. He was kicking himself for trusting someone after only spending a few hours with them. If he'd been more careful, he'd probably be sitting on his balcony outside his hotel room and listening to the music drift down from Bourbon Street. And he'd be blissfully unaware that voodoo was a very real thing.

Suddenly, there was a noise and JC looked towards the doorway. Marlene stood there, watching him with a small smile. He felt a shiver run down his spin, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the fever or the fact that he had no idea how long she'd been watching him.

"I brought you some water," she said as she walked into the room, acting as if he were a guest and not a prisoner.

JC watched as she set the glass on the nightstand, his dry throat swallowing reflexively. He wanted nothing more than to take a drink and relieve the dry, scratchy feeling of his throat. But after everything she'd done since he'd arrived at her place late last night, he didn't trust her.

"You don't have to be afraid," she told him, almost like she could sense his fear. "I'm not going to kill you."

JC stared at her through glassy eyes with distrust. She took a step back, like she was trying to assure him that it was okay. The very last thing he wanted was to give into something she was offering him, but he ached for the water - to provide him at least some kind of relief from the heat he was experiencing.

Slowly, JC reached out for the large glass of water and grabbed onto it with slightly shaking hands. He was unnerved by Marlene watching him, but he was too focused on not spilling all of the water that would provide him relief to really care. The water had barely touched his lips when there was a sudden sharp pain in his right arm, causing him to drop the glass. It shattered against the floor next to the bed.

Instantly, JC looked at Marlene expecting to see her holding the voodoo doll, but her hands were empty. Through the pain and fog that accompanied the fever, he rationalized that the pain in his arm must've been some kind of weird side effect of the spell she'd cast earlier. After all, it made sense that a curse wouldn't allow its victim any kind of reprieve.

"Do whatever you want, but nothing will make me want to be with you," JC said, glaring at her even though he found it hard to focus on her.

Marlene sighed and reached out to run a finger down JC's cheek. "Oh, JC," she started. JC weakly batted her hand away and tried to force himself not to back away from her even though he wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between them as possible. "What you don't realize is I always get what I want, and I want you."

She headed for the door and paused just inside the doorframe, looking back at him. "You're mine, and you're going to realize that. One way or another."

JC tried to keep a hard mask, but it was extremely difficult considering how terrible he felt and just how scared he was at the idea of just how far she would go to get what she wanted. She smiled as if she could sense his weakness before finally walking out, leaving him alone yet again.

It wasn't something he wanted, but it was at least better than knowing she was enjoying watching him suffer. JC prayed he would be strong enough to handle whatever else she threw at him.

**********

"Pull over here."

The four of them had hopped into a cab, throwing their carryon backpacks into the trunk. Since they didn't know where JC had decided to stay, they'd just told the cab driver to take them to the French Quarter and they'd figure it out from there. Justin had caught the anxious glances the others gave him since he'd said he'd know what hotel JC had chosen.

That was why he'd told the cabbie to pull over. They were in the middle of the French Quarter, halfway down Bourbon Street and there was no way he'd be able to figure out what hotel from the inside of a cab. It didn't help too that it was already dark even though it was only going on nine o'clock. But the others didn't seem to understand why they were getting out without any destination in mind as they frowned at each other.

Justin pulled a fifty out of his wallet and threw it at the cab driver, opening the back door and getting out. The others stumbled out behind him, grabbing their bags from the trunk before the cab drove away. They stood on the sidewalk for a moment, Justin looking around and trying to take everything in.

"You have no idea where we're going, do you?" Chris said, breaking the silence between them with a biting tone.

Justin narrowed his eyes. "You don't either."

"No, but I didn't say I was going to just know what hotel JC was staying at." Chris muttered, "Now we're gonna have to lug our bags all over the damn city."

Justin clenched his fist, wanting to lay into Chris then and there. He managed to control himself, remembering that while it was September and tourist season was over, there was still too many people on the streets to start screaming at each other. The last thing they needed was to draw unnecessary attention to themselves.

"C'mon," he said, tugging his baseball cap lower so the shadows from the bill hid his face better. It was just a good thing he'd chopped off all his curls because he surely would've gotten recognized if he still had them.

Justin picked a direction and began walking down the street, looking at all of buildings as he passed. He prayed to have some kind of connection with JC that would give him a clue as to where his friend had been staying. They walked by several restaurants and had to weave through the throngs of people that were waiting for a late dinner or to be let into clubs early. For it being almost the end of September, there seemed to be a good bit of tourists.

A sudden thought occurred to Justin, almost making him stop on the spot. He glanced up and down the street, seeing the neon signs and lights spilling out of restaurants and somehow immediately knew JC wouldn't have stayed in the middle of all this. Going off instinct, Justin turned down the next street they came across.

"Where are you taking us?" Joey asked as they left the busy Bourbon Street behind them. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "All the action's back that way."

"JC wouldn't pick a hotel in the busiest part," Justin said.

Lance frowned, glancing at Joey before looking at Justin. "But I thought he came down to get inspired. Wouldn't he want to stay where all the clubs and everything are?"

"What you're forgetting about JC," Justin began, his steps not slowing as he walked along the quieter street, "is that he'd want a place where he could get away from it all. But be close enough that he could still experience it."

Justin stopped suddenly, causing Chris to slam into his back. Chris cursed and muttered something, but Justin wasn't paying attention to him. He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes as he felt a warm breeze blow across his face and carrying the soulful blues sounds with it.

"Here," Justin said, opening his eyes to look at the old building in front of them. "He's staying here."

He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, lightly jogging up to the large grand looking front door. The hotel had the appearance of an old house from what Justin guessed to be somewhere around the Civil War era that'd been converted to accommodate more than a large family, but with its history preserved. It was exactly the kind of place JC would enjoy staying at.

Justin didn't even bother to check if the others were following him, knowing they would. A soft bell chimed above him as he opened the door and entered, drawing the attention of an older woman behind a large mahogany desk.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any vacancies," she said, noticing their backpacks.

"That's okay," Justin replied, stepping closer. "We're actually looking for someone, and we believe he's staying here."

The woman frowned. "I'm not supposed to give out that information."

"Please, ma'am." Justin pushed his hat up so he could see her better and allow her easy access to read his eyes. "We're friends of his. He kind of took off on us and we just want to make sure he's okay."

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if he could be trusted. Finally she sighed slightly but smiled as she asked, "What's the name?"

"Michael Prince."

Justin glanced back at the guys and saw their confused looks. He shook his head, a very small smile tugging at his lips. It was a name JC used when he wanted to get away without being recognized, a combination of two artists that inspired him - Michael Jackson and Prince. Of course, JC had many musical influences, but that had been the combination he'd used when he'd first done it a couple years ago. And he was a creature of habit, so it wasn't surprising that he hadn't changed it.

"Room 310," the woman behind the desk told Justin, sliding him a spare key.

Justin smiled and thanked her before leading the way up stairs with a metal railing. They reached the third floor, which also happened to be the top floor. It was a small hallway and there were only a few rooms, so it was pretty easy to find JC's.

Because the building was so old, they'd been given an actual key and not just one of those plastic cards hotels said was a key. Justin turned it in the lock and opened the door, walking inside. It wasn't a large room, which made it easy to see that it was in fact empty.

Justin stepped further into the room and the others did the same, Lance closing the door behind him. The room had a lot of character without being obnoxious. It actually looked really homey with the thick checkered comforter with soft blues and browns, the dark cherry frame accented by the brick walls. There was a small TV screwed into the wall of one corner of the room and a small desk across from the bed that was littered with various papers, some with JC's scribbled handwriting.

Taking a shaky breath, Justin turned and looked at the other three. "We need to go to the police."

"Now don't go throwing a tantrum just yet," Chris said. "He could be out. Hell, he could've been standing in one of those lines to get into a bar or restaurant and we walked right by him."

It was probably the most Chris sounded like himself since Justin had told them about the message JC left on his machine, but it didn't make Justin feel any better. He was certain that JC wasn't just out having a good time, eating and enjoying some local music. And any amount of time they spent thinking that would be time wasted in actually finding him.

"No. He's in trouble. I can feel it," Justin said.

Chris rolled his eyes. "You and your feelings again." He gave Justin a hard look. "Is that what you're going to say to the cops when they ask what proof you have he's missing?"

Justin felt his blood boil, getting even more fed up with Chris's attitude before. But he refused to lose it. Not now when JC needed him so badly. All he said was, "I'm gonna tell them about the message he left and give them the phone number to trace. We're going to find him."

It looked like Chris was going to protest some more, but Lance cut him off. "We should get down there before it gets any later. That way they can get started on tracking down the owner of the number JC called from sooner."

Justin shot Lance a grateful look and the four of them left for the police station. It took them at least ten minutes to walk there and they were out the doors in just about the same amount of time. They began their walk back towards Bourbon Street, Justin fuming the whole way.

"What the hell do they mean they can't do anything?" he demanded.

Lance sighed. "Justin, they're looking into the phone number."

"But they refuse to do anything else!" Justin pointed out, angry that the police didn't seem to be as determined as him to find JC.

"Because, as I already pointed out, there's no way of knowing JC just chose not to return to his hotel. Or is in the middle of a bar somewhere," Chris said. "They need proof of kidnapping or knowing that he's been missing for at least twenty-four hours."

Justin shook his head. It was utter bullshit. Yeah, he guessed it made sense and the police were only doing their job, but Justin knew JC was in trouble. Why wasn't that good enough? Didn't they understand the connection he had to JC and how he never ever got feelings like this unless something was terribly wrong?

"Then, let's give them proof," Justin said. "We'll go search the bars and restaurants."

"We have no way of knowing which ones he went to," Joey pointed out.

"Then we'll just have to check them all."

Chris snorted. "Good luck with that."

Justin glared at Chris and Lance sighed heavily, reaching out to put a comforting hand on Justin's shoulder and blocking his view of Chris. "Justin, I know you want to find JC. We all do, but we can't just wander aimlessly checking every place in The Quarter. Besides, it's getting late. We should just get a room and turn in for the night."

"And grab some dinner," Joey said, nodding.

It was Justin's turn to sigh. He knew they were right - it'd be nearly impossible to find JC if they didn't have a clue or at least an idea of where he might've gone. They'd have to try talking to some locals and see if anyone recognized him or might have talked to him, given him recommendations of places to try. But Justin didn't want to give up; it wasn't even that late.

Still, he didn't object as Lance led them back onto Bourbon Street and into a place called The Maison Dupuy Hotel. It was a pretty high class hotel and looked nothing like the one JC had picked out. After a few moments of speaking with the front desk, Lance returned with four keys - one for each of them.

"I tried to get a couple rooms, but they were pretty much all booked. So they gave us this house that's right next door with two bedrooms," Lance explained.

He led them back outside and over to the house on the right. As they walked in and Lance flipped the lights, Justin was able to see that the house was as expensive looking as the lobby had been. And even though there was much more space and the furniture seemed to reflect a time period long forgotten, he found JC's room to be much cozier. It was no wonder JC had stayed away from the obscenely expensive places they normally frequented while on tour.

Justin slung the bag off his shoulder and let it fall to the floor by a large armchair. Chris was walking up the stairs and Joey had already picked up a menu that had been placed on the kitchen table, perusing it. None of them seemed overly worried at the moment and Justin wanted to scream. Was he the only one taking this whole thing seriously?

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to sit around and do nothing while waiting for the police to get to them, he checked that his wallet was still in his back pocket. He then turned back towards the door, only to be stopped by Lance's voice.

"Where are you going?"

Justin exhaled and turned around. "Back to JC's. I want to see if maybe there's a bill or something from a restaurant so we can ask around tomorrow."

"We're about to order food," Joey said, holding up the menu. "We can check out JC's room after."

"You go ahead. I'm not hungry," Justin said. "I'll be back in a bit."

Justin walked out before Lance or Joey could say anything to stop him. He traveled a couple streets over until he was back at JC's hotel. Just like before, he went up to the third floor and entered the room again.

He went over to the desk and sifted through the mess of papers. A lot of it was scribbled lyrics in JC's sloppy handwriting, and Justin smiled slightly. It was good to see JC had been inspired enough to get past his writer's block.

Muted music drew his attention away from the pile of papers to the door on his right. Justin opened it and stepped out onto the balcony, the music growing a bit louder, but it was far enough away that it was still faint. It almost gave the blues music a bit of a haunting sound, especially as the wind gently blew.

There was a small circular table and chair out there, and Justin immediately knew this was where JC had done most of his writing. He could easily picture JC sitting there in the afternoon, lounging in the sun as he allowed the music and the people passing by act as his muse. If Justin closed his eyes, it was almost like JC was there, sitting in the small chair or leaning against the blue painted metal railing.

But it disappeared as soon as Justin opened his eyes, leaving him feeling empty. He had to find JC. Just as determined as ever, he walked back into the room and began to go through the papers again. He was so caught up in his task that he didn't hear the door open.

"Find anything?"

Justin spun around, his heart practically jumping into his throat. He relaxed as he recognized Joey. "Don't sneak up on people like that, man."

"Sorry," Joey said with an apologetic shrug. He came closer and repeated his question. "Did you find something?"

Justin glanced down at the piece of paper he was still clutching, having been in the middle of reading it when Joey had surprised him. It was a flyer for a jazz place a couple streets over.

"Want to check out some local jazz?"