Lance stared in the mirror nervously, straightening his tie.  He shuddered and tousled his dirty blonde hair to the side, sighing in frustration. 

“How are we ever gonna be the same after this?”  He groaned out loud, closing his eyes to take a moment for himself before venturing back into the lobby of the large courthouse in Orlando. 

It had been a long week and all he wanted to do was go home, cry his eyes out and sleep for at least three days straight.  The last day of the trial had torn not only him but Justin apart and they both couldn’t handle it anymore.   

As soon as the court took a short recess he bolted for the bathroom, trying desperately to hold back the tears that forced themselves out.  He had told himself he would stay strong for the rest of the group, but with the court battles the last couple of days it was hard to hold his head above water.  The judge seemed to be in their favor, but the pressures of just sitting in court, listening to Lou’s lawyer accusing the group and blatantly lying to the judge about his “sons” was disgusting and tore at Lance’s heart. 

On top of that Lance’s guilt grew heavier, the further away from a verdict they were.  He couldn’t help feeling that if he hadn’t fainted on stage, if he hadn’t gotten so sick and become hospitalized would they even be bothering to fight back for what was rightfully theirs?

Lance placed his hands under the stream of water pouring from the faucet and ran his hands over his face, gently wiping them with a paper towel before searching the countertop for his discarded wallet with his eyes.  He picked up his wallet and flipped it open, revealing a familiar picture, one he turned to on many occasions when he needed reassurance as he did at that moment. 

He smiled tenderly at it and ran his thumb over the small details of the face staring back at him. 

“Nicole.  Please, just tell me it’s gonna be alright.  That’s all I need to hear right now.”  He waited in silence, staring at the picture as if it would talk back and give him the answer he was looking for.  He smiled once again, flipping his wallet closed and nodded.  “Yeah, it is.  I can feel it.” 

~Flashback~ 

“James honey.” 

Lance looked up from the stack of papers in front of him, startled.  He glanced around the room, not remembering his surroundings.  It was then that he realized he had fallen asleep reading his contract.  His narrowed eyes, opened widely, adjusting to the light in the room.  He scanned the room, trying to find the voice with his eyes, but was lost. 

“James.”  The sweet voice of his mother echoed down the hallway and finally into his room as she stepped in with an envelope in her hand.  

“You got another letter from home today.  I think it's from Nicole.”  She walked over to his desk and laid it down slowly, Lance watching her every move with curiosity.  Dianne leaned down next to his chair and cupped his face in her soft hands.  “James sweetie, are you ever going to write her back?  I think you need to.” 

Lance shook his head.  “It’s been a year mom.  A year since I just left her to go after my dream.  No word from me.  She keeps writin’ me.  Why?” 

“Because she cares for you James.  Doesn’t she deserve to know that you care just as much?” 

Lance shook his head again, a few stray tears making their way down his cheeks.  “Mom, you don’t know Nicole, she…” 

Diane smiled.  “No, but you do.  I know things are hard and complicated right now.  This thing is happening so fast and your confused, but I think..”  She bit her lip as if in concentration.  “I think writing her a letter and spillin’ your guts will do ya good.” 

Lance nodded as she smiled and left him alone with his thoughts.  He sighed, rubbing his eyes and flipped the envelope over, smiling at his handwritten address on the front.  He ran his finger over the delicate handwriting and flipped it over once more, tearing it open with his fingers.  His heart tore in two as he read across the printed page. 

Jam-es,

This will be my last letter to you.  And I don’t expect you to answer it, after all, you never answered my other ones.  Wow, they must be keeping you so busy trying to start that group of yours.  I wish you all the best in that. 

Can you believe I am graduating this year?  It seems almost impossible.  And want to hear something even more impossible?  I made a friend this year!  I never told you about her.  Her name is Heather.  She’s fat like me, so we are outcasts together.  She’s not YOU, that’s for sure, but she’s there when I need her and she’s fun to hang around. 

Enclosed is my senior portrait.  Awful isn’t it?  I thought I might send it to you as one last memento to remember me by when you hit it big, and I know you will. 

My grandparents are sending me away, to Maine to go to college.  I’m going to be living with my father.  The father I haven’t seen in five years.  That should be interesting.  I actually found something I want to do out there, a college to go to.  I want to be a beautician.  Is that what they call it?  Maybe it’s a cosmetologist.  Yeah, I can just see you laughing right now.  Me, the person who could give a damn about looks going into a profession based on appearances.  Well, I figured, sometimes all it takes is a good hairstyle or some makeup to boost someone’s self esteem and if I can do that and help possibly one person feel better about themselves than guess what?  I can feel good about my self and it’s something I found myself falling in love with.  I guess you knew that though, from all my different hair colors and styles throughout junior high. 

So I am moving to Maine in two months, right after graduation.  I really wish you could be there to see me graduate, but I know you can’t.  Last I heard you were over in Europe. 

I know you must be having the time of your life, but even if you aren’t, just remember you can always talk to my picture and know that I am thinking about you.  Plus, it will listen.  Not really, but you know what I mean.  Sometimes, like you taught me, it just feels better to talk, whether you are talking to someone or just thin air.  Thanks for teaching me that by the way.  But just don’t forget me.  That is all I ask.  You have meant so much in my life and I hope that I can somehow mean an ounce in your life that you have meant in mine. 

All my love,

Nicole 

Lance looked up from the letter with tears in his eyes.  How could he write her back now?  The letter was dated three weeks ago, he barely got it now, she was leaving soon for Maine and he was in a hotel room in the middle of Europe and he didn’t know when he’d be able to return to the states.  

He shook his head, he had to at least try. 

Nicole, 

You mean so much to me and I miss you. 

James 

Lance flipped back open his wallet and stared at the picture of a chubby Nicole, smiling through her braces.  He prayed to God she had gotten that letter, but when he received no response all hope was lost.  All he had now was a picture.  A picture that comforted him and a picture that he would forever keep in his wallet, as a reminder of where he came from and the girl who had helped make him the man he was. 

Lance strolled back into the courtroom, now confident of the group’s hopeful fate.  He sat down as the judge took a seat on the stand and beat his mallet on the surface in front of him. 

A cheer erupted from the right side of the courtroom as the judge announced the verdict in *NSYNC’s favor. Lance smiled in relief. 

“Thank you Nicole.  Thank you.”