"So… what do you think?" Justin asked nervously, scratching at his neck.

His manager sat back in his chair, swivelling slowly from side to side as he readjusted his cap. Folding his hands over his stomach, he looked at the mixing desk and then at Justin.

"I don't have to tell you Justin that this is a huge surprise."

"Yeah, I know." He bit his lip anxiously, searching Johnny's face for some kind of reaction. He'd known that presenting the music he had so far was going to be a complete risk, but if there was one thing he'd learned it was that he needed to take them.

"It's way left of field for an artist doing what you do and aiming at that market."

"I don't want to aim at that market any more." Justin's gaze fell on the mixing board, and his fingers drummed nervously against it. "I mean, if they come along then great, but I'm 25, Johnny. I ought to be making songs people my age might actually listen to. And I mean people my age who weren't *NSYNC fans and won't just follow me anywhere."

With a thoughtful and penetrating look at Justin, Johnny readjusted his cap for the fiftieth time and nodded.

"Well, from a personal perspective, I think that's long overdue and I love what you got. I think you got the talent to see this through, but what we need is the label's backing and this is going to make them nervous."

Justin's face had begun to break into a relieved smile, but now the anxiety was back in full force. "You think they won't?"

Johnny's face set into a pensive frown, his brain obviously ticking over as fast as it could behind his brown eyes. His fingers stroked his chin, occasionally tapping at his lower lip. Justin sat in painful silence, waiting for the manager's verdict.

"I think we gotta sell this to them right. I mean, if this works Justin your exposure could double and it might earn you some credibility amongst over musical genres, widen your radio audience too. If it flops, you're going to have a hard time picking yourself back up."

"I can do this, Johnny, I can."

For the first time in a very long time, Justin honestly believed that. He had seen what he was capable of, and he was determined to see that through. He had felt justified in using the song he'd written for the other Justin, finishing it off in his own world, and he had taken it as a foundation for the few songs he'd managed to put together so far. It was a long way from the pop he was used to doing, but he was a lot more excited than he'd been about his music for a long time. Pop was easy to churn out like a machine; this was challenging him a lot more, and that first song was the lynchpin for it all. He couldn't help wondering what his more critically successful self had thought of it, but he knew he couldn't dwell on that.

For one thing, he'd never find out. This time he had been true to his word - he had got rid of the cursed piece of onyx, sold the necklace on eBay. It had been sent out under a false name with a false return address. The thing was priceless, and he had given it away for the princely sum of nine dollars and sixty eight cents. There was no longer any way for him to connect to that other world - that one in which he'd already made such a success of his career. Anything else he needed to learn he was just going to have to figure out by himself.

"It's a risk," Johnny warned him.

"It's about time I took a few."

Johnny's head remained still, but his eyes flicked sideways to his young charge. He knew there was little point trying to tell an artist what direction they needed to go in. It was, after all, their art. "Alright then - I will go have a talk with Clive about this. I think it might be better if I try and sell the concept to him first before I take any music up there; if I just throw this at him out of left field he'll probably be more resistant to it."

"Okay, cool. That makes sense." Justin sniffed, cursing his cold, and nodded his head again. The stupid illness had been making it a lot harder to record vocals. He was no longer coughing and sneezing, but his sinuses were still blocked.

"This stuff is really good though, Justin. I think if we can get the image change right this'll do wonders for you." Johnny wanted to leave on a more encouraging note. He didn't want the kid thinking he disliked the stuff, because he honestly thought it was a vast improvement. He wasn't quite sure where it had sprung from so suddenly, but he was quietly enthused.

"Thanks."

He still looked worried, and Johnny didn't think there was much more he could say so he stood up, pushed his chair back and said his goodbyes. Justin barely even turned to say farewell, instead concentrating his sight on the mixing desk like it held his answers. He sat like that until Trace burst back into the room.

"Say it, Trace Ayala is your God."

"Not until you prove it." Justin managed to raise a smile for his best friend. The whole tone of these sessions had been melancholic but hopeful, determined. He wasn't in the best of spaces, but even through the badness he was beginning to feel a kind of forward momentum his life had been lacking for quite some time. The struggle felt necessary, productive, and so he was managing to keep his head up through it.

"I don't know how, but I managed to schedule you a meeting with Timbaland."

That really perked Justin up. "Awesome!" He slapped Trace's hand in victory. "You are my God."

Trace preened, making multiple bows to an imaginary audience around the room. "It took all my powers of persuasion, but finally I managed to make him curious enough about this new direction of yours to come talk to you and listen to what you got. He's not making promises though. And I kind of think he can only be assed because you're just two towns away, but let's not look an incredible gift horse in the mouth."

"You're a legend, T, thanks."

Trace flicked through his Sidekick, trying to think if there was anything else he needed to update Justin on. "Oh, you remember that fashion guy you told me about?"

"What fashion guy?"

"You know, Daniel."

"Oh, him, right." Justin quietly realised this must have been somebody the other Justin had clued Trace in on, seeing as he was part of this clothing venture of Trace's in the other dimension. He himself had declined, wanting to give his best friend something that he wasn't a part of - sometimes he thought his association with Trace was more prohibitive than helpful to the guy.

"Had a phone conference yesterday, he's got a ton of ideas for marketing. Really likes the line. Oh, and I tried that mysterious dance producer you were going on about but no dice. His people are like fucking pit-bulls; they won't let anybody near the dude."

"Dude? For all I know it's a woman," Justin responded.

"It's definitely a dude," Trace divulged, "they said 'he.' But apparently this guy's one of those where you don't approach him, he comes to you. And only after you've signed the longest fucking confidentiality agreement ever. They e-mailed me a copy of it and after reading it I think it was to scare me off."

"Fuck." Justin leaned back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head and rocking back and forth contemplatively. "I need somebody with a dance edge for this one track and that guy's hot. I need this record to be edgy."

"I'll try 'em again, see if being a stubborn ass will get it done." Trace made a reminder to himself.

"You are good at that." Justin's quick agreement earned him a surprisingly forceful punch to the shoulder.

"Oh, and uhh…" his voice became soft, sympathetic. "Ren called me earlier."

"Oh." He felt his throat begin to burn painfully. "How is she?"

"She seems good, yeah." His friend began to shift from foot to foot uncomfortably and Justin knew he was about to hear something he wouldn't like. "She wanted me to ask you if you'd mind her telling her manager. About… you know."

"Us breaking up? You can say it, T."

"Yeah, that."

"Sure. She can go shout it from the rooftops if she wants."

"JT, it's just her manager."

He fixed his friend with a slightly irritated but not unkind look. "T, read between the lines. She wants to tell Leslie either because she's started to hear whispers and she's preparing for it to go public, or because she wants to go public. It'll go straight from manager to publicist."

Trace gave a low whistle. "I guess you're right. Shit, are you ready for that?"

"It's been two months, man. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Justin rubbed a weary hand over his face. His eyes were stinging and he felt a couple of tears coming on, but by this point he knew he could control them. He had no idea what she and the other Justin had been talking about when he had pulled that final body swap on them, but whatever it was it had apparently been a wake up call for Renee. She had taken all of twenty four hours to come back to him and tell him that she thought they needed to break up.

The saddest part was that he hadn't been able to disagree with her on that. He'd disagreed with her a lot in that horrendous, nearly three hour conversation that they'd had in the middle of the night. She had told him he didn't know her, and he'd disagreed. He had never disagreed with anything so much in his life as when she had told him that he was in love with somebody who had never existed, but he couldn't make her see herself the way he did. He'd sworn a whole lot when she had told him their relationship had been nothing but a disaster. When she told him that he was disgusted by her, that he had really taken exception to (though he could see how she'd come to that conclusion).

He hadn't been able to disagree, however, when she had said that they hadn't been working for a very long time and that they both had too many individual problems going on to be able to help each other through anything. Renee had resolutely told him that it was clinging onto their relationship so hard that was leaving them with no energy to actually make themselves better. As much as he hated it, he had been forced to concur.

It was, after all, the truth.

So that was what he had thrown himself into doing. Renee had left him - or they'd left each other, he wasn't sure - and he had thrown himself into the change. Work had begun on Justin Timberlake 2.0, the new and improved version. He'd spun a chrysalis around himself as fast as he possibly could, and he was hoping he'd crawl out a butterfly rather than a moth. He'd cleaned up his appearance, hired a new stylist to turf out the contents of his closet and finally find him a new style after all these years. He had thrown himself into the new music, taking pains to run against every instinct he would normally have in a studio and try the road less travelled.

He had hidden from the spotlight, had temporarily become a recluse, but Renee had continued parading in it like nothing had happened. Something had happened, however, and it was noticeable. The magazines were all raving about her new hair colour and her new, more sophisticated wardrobe. Of course admitting that meant admitting he'd been keeping tabs on her through them, so Justin had never made this observation to anybody except his momma (she already knew what he'd been doing without being told, she was his mother). Louise seemed permanently attached to her side, and the pair of them seemed to be going to a lot of spas and doing a lot of shopping.

She looked happier. She didn't look like she was jumping for joy, but the bags seemed to have disappeared from under her eyes. She looked like she was finally kicking back and letting some of the weight off her shoulders. A weight, Justin was pained to realise, that had included him. They had quietly decided between themselves to keep quiet about the break up for a while; with their schedules it wasn't unusual for them to be apart for long periods so the paparazzi didn't blink an eyelid at it. They had thought it would be easier.

"You miss her, huh?"

He smiled wryly. "I've been in love with her for what, seven or eight years? No shit Sherlock."

"For what it's worth, I think she misses you too," Trace ventured tentatively. "I'm not supposed to tell you she was asking how you were and what you were doing and stuff, but she was."

"Doesn't matter if we miss each other." He drew slow circles around the rim of a long empty Coke can. "She's right. We missed our shot to fix it and now it's too broke to fix."

Justin stood up and stretched, mindful of Trace's concerned eyes on him.

"It's okay T, really. I'll be alright. And so will she. If you'll excuse me, I need to go find the men's room."

As Justin walked out of the studio, leaving a stunned and silent best friend behind him, he strode along the corridor with his head held high. He really, honestly believed what he had just said. Somehow, some way, the two of them were both going to get by. Maybe it wouldn't be together, but they would make something more of their lives than they'd managed to in the last couple of years. It was just a hunch he had. If he was really lucky, at some point enough water might have gone under the bridge for her to even play a part in his world again. He doubted it would be as his girlfriend, but he'd take what he could get.

Although intent on the bathroom, Justin forgot all about his overly full bladder when he saw a familiar looking face go passing by.

"Claire?" He asked incredulously.

The figure had already disappeared around the corner in a flash of dark hair, and he was all too aware he might be setting himself up for the loony bin by following her. Still he raced after the possible Claire, struggling to keep up with her as she moved swiftly into the stairwell and around yet more corners. Finally he saw her disappear by a door. His first instinct was to burst through it, but in an attempt to appear sane if he walked in there and it wasn't the ghost of his ex girlfriend's best friend he tried to take it at a more normal pace. It could, after all, be some poor intern who happened to have dark hair.

The sight before him when he walked into the office was far more of a shock than any ghost could have been. The brown haired figure turned in the black leather chair and looked equally surprised to see him.

"Justin?"

"JC?" He cursed himself for the overly high pitched squeak.

Neither of them had clapped eyes on each other in years. JC had disappeared firmly into the ether and for all Justin had known, off the face of the planet. He almost had to smirk when he realised the guy looked and dressed the same way his other world self did these days - a sharp black shirt and black tailored pants, he looked incredibly Johnny Cash inspired and his hair stuck up in a little faux hawk, exactly the same. They hadn't seen each other since the last screaming match they'd had when JC had declared it was 'Yoko' or him, and Justin had chosen Renee.

"Umm… how are you?" JC asked politely.

"Umm… good, good." Justin fiddled with his watch tensely, and he knew the gesture didn't escape JC. After years of bus living, they knew each other's little tics and habits. "You?"

"Can't complain. How's… Renee?" He struggled to say it, but Justin appreciated his civility.

"Wouldn't know, we broke up two months ago."

"Oh. Dude, I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"No, I am," JC corrected him, looking somewhat sheepish. "That sucks, man."

"So… what are you doing here?" Justin asked. "Are… are you doing some recording?"

"No." He shook his head. "I've been producing these days."

"Really? That's awesome!" Before he could stop himself or think that after the first polite conversation they'd had in years this was pushing it, Justin was blurting out the first thought that came into his head. "You should come do something for me."

It was a little ego crushing when his once brother (not to mention idol) looked so sceptical. "For your stuff? Didn't think I'd fit in with your sound."

It was incredibly embarrassing and he wanted the ground to swallow him up, but still he pushed on if only to save a little face. "I'm doing a huge revamp, ditching the teenybopper shit. I could use your expertise, man, you were always the best vocalist of the whole bunch of us. Plus it's… it's been too long, and I… I've missed hanging." he finally managed to say.

JC's face was completely unreadable. "You thought I was the best vocalist?"

Justin's cheeks became a little pink. "I got ears, don't I?"

Incredibly, his former band mate managed to crack a small smile. "Well, if nothing else I guess I gotta hear this brand new direction."

Justin wasn't so restrained, and broke out in an enormous grin. "Awesome. I got a couple tracks I need somebody with an eye for dance music to take a look at anyway. Most of it's more RnB and hip hop influenced, but I wanna get a little of everything in there. About time I grew up, right?"

JC was privately of the opinion that Justin looked like he'd grown up a lot - it was something in his demeanour. He'd been unable to keep from tracking the man's career, and from what he'd been seeing even a few months ago he'd have rolled his eyes in disgust at the thought of facing down his once best friend. The guy had seemed stuck in a bubblegum time warp and he had always thought better of him. JC might have grown up and got over his hatred of the dude's (now ex) girlfriend, but that didn't mean he liked Justin's attitude. The Justin Timberlake in front of him seemed a changed man, however, and JC had far too much history with him not to get a little hopeful. Still, it never hurt to approach things cautiously.

"Can't be a bad thing," he shrugged. "Umm… sure, we could do that. Let me give you my card and we'll set something up."

Justin eagerly took the small, stiff white card from JC's outstretched fingers, practically grabbed it even. Maybe this was too formal for his liking, but anything he could do to reconnect to JC (or any of his former band mates) would be done. Glancing at the details on the card, he did a double take. Not for the first time that day, his jaw dropped in shock. "You… you're Chaser?" Well, he supposed it was only one consonant from Chasez. "But… I've been trying to set up a session with you for weeks, man!"

"Really?" JC was similarly shocked. He couldn't imagine Justin paying much attention to dance producers.

"Man this is awesome…" he muttered before realising he was in an actual conversation and not talking to himself. He raised his voice a little. "Seriously, C, I knew you were good before but your stuff's awesome. I don't know why you're not releasing albums, man."

Their conversation was interrupted as the executive JC was meeting decided to turn up and was a little surprised to find Justin Timberlake in his office. Saying a hasty but pointed goodbye to JC, promising to call (and deciding to do it personally rather than via Trace), he left the room. Traipsing slowly back towards the studio, he stared at the business card. He wasn't looking where he was going, but lucky for him it was late and few people were around. He guessed that explained JC's presence - if he was secretive about his identity, he wouldn't show up to meetings in broad daylight when paparazzi might be crawling around in the bushes.

"I'll be damned," he finally muttered to himself as he hit the bottom of the stairwell.

It had certainly been an emotional day, with one thing or other. From Renee to JC, his head was swimming. Looking up at the landing, out of the window where a starry sky was visible, he gave a small smile. Call him crazy, but he thought he knew what had just happened.

"Thanks, Claire," he said softly to the heavens. In all likelihood he'd seen an intern and got the wrong door, but he kind of liked the idea that she was looking out for him.

He was taken by surprise yet again when there was a quick rush of black mist before his eyes. The woman in question solidified in front of him, standing on the landing and looking down on him at the foot of the staircase. It was, in fact, the quickest he had ever seen her show up.

With a barely suppressed grin, she raised an eyebrow at him. "You're totally welcome. But you're on your own now kid so make it happen, alright?"

Before Justin could even open his mouth, she tipped him a wink and was gone.