Sassy's Note: Guys, my computer is a peice of shit. This is the only chapter I can get online long enough to post. I don't know if I'll ever have an opportunity like this again to post while I'm home. That plus the very real chance that if I keep trying to do this, I'm going to have a nervous breakdown means that I probably won't post again until Sunday when I get back to school. I won't even be able to send out an update email so those of you reading this- good for you! You found the hidden chapter lol. The good news is that I have everything done so you can look foward to a lot of reading on Sunday. I was hopeing to at least get Chapter 20 up too because there's a lot more going on in that one and it's longer. This one is pretty short compared to some of Dev's other cahpters. So enjoy and look for the rest on Sunday.

Chapter Nineteen

Friday, 10:30pm, New York City

Jack Salinger watched from across the street as Regan hailed down a cab. He could see the worry written plainly on her face as her eyes shifted around her surroundings before she climbed in the back seat of the yellow taxi. Assuming their encounter the other night had just made her nervous, he pushed off the side of the Bodega he'd been leaning against waiting for her exit and went to hail his own cab. He would, as he had from the day they started dating, watch her window until it went dark from the small park across the street.

Before he could lift his arm to hail down one of the many taxis speeding by he saw a man exit the same door his obsession had left through moments before. He recognized the man from seeing him at Dr. Boland's office the week before, yet seeing him at that moment married with the look he'd seen on Regan's face made the real recognition click in Jack's mind. Kyle Baxter. Katie's brother.

Kyle looked different somehow, even though he'd seen him not too many months before. His hair was darker and his build was leaner, but that wasn't it. It was the way he carried himself, a mixture of conquer-the-world determination and worried paranoia. Of course. He was in on Boland's study.

Nonetheless, whatever involvement Kyle had with Boland was of little consequence to Jack now. Kyle had told Regan about Katie, he was sure of it. Sure, Kyle could have simply picked up the slack on keeping Regan in Boland's study. Without Jack to placate her, Kyle could simply be threatening her. That could easily account for the worried look Regan wore. But Jack's gut told him otherwise. Either way, this was going to end very soon.

Within minutes, Jack was in a cab on his way to keep his nightly vigil.

"Wait, Regan," Finn shook her head, "you're going to have to back up a minute. You mean that this guy you were dating before the superstar could be stalking you?"

"I don't know, Finn," Regan said, her voice muffled from her head hanging low. "I can't really talk about this any more. All I really want to do right now is call Da and then get some sleep. I mean, I can't really do any but that tonight, right?"

"Like hell you can't. Can't you call the cops and get a restraining order or something?"

"Finn, maybe with parents as wealthy as yours, the cops will wake up a judge in the middle of the night to issue a restraining order based on a past crime that was never reported and the one incident where Jack showed up at the studio. But when it comes to an all-but-broke immigrant here on a work visa, I don't think they'd wake up the neighbor's cat."

"Listen Miss Snippy, I'm just trying to help. I mean, I live here too, ya know? It's not just your parts that are in danger here."

"Oh Finn, my steadfastly loyal and empathetic cousin, I knew you'd be here to listen and guide me like only you can. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make a transatlantic phone call." Regan brushed off Finn's warning that it was after 2am in Ireland and retreated to the minimal privacy of her doorless bedroom to call her father.

She could hear Finn flop on the couch and turn on the TV as clearly as she could have seen it if she lifted her head to bother. Tossing her bag on the chair in the corner and shucking off one sneaker after another, she plopped onto her bed and drew the covers up to her chin. She didn't bother to change out of her clothes; that was at the bottom of her list of priorities at that time. One thin, graceful hand snaked out from under the covers to grab the phone on her bed stand. Dialing quickly the number she'd known by heart since childhood, she shifted in bed onto her side and pulled the covers over her head with her free hand.

As the phone continued to ring, Regan wondered if her father was working at the pub tonight. If so, he might not be home until after 3am his time, which could leave her a good half hour before she could get in touch with him. She needed to talk to someone at that very moment and it wasn't going to be Finn. As the phone continued to ring, she debated whether or not to call Justin. She knew he'd be hurt if she waited until he got to New York the next night but she didn't want him to worry about her any more than she knew he already did. Just when she was about to push her concerns aside and call him, the other line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Da!"

"Regan? Love, do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry da, did I wake you?" She bit down on her lip, working the tender flesh between her teeth in worry he'd tell her to call in the morning.

"Nah, I just got in from pub," he answered, punctuating his statement with a weary yawn.

"I'm sorry but I really needed to talk to you. I need some advice."

"Problems with young Timberlake already, lass? I thought this one would clear a month at least," he kidded.

"No, Da, it's not about Justin at all. It's about Jack."

"He's not giving you problems, is he?" Sean was wide awake now.

Regan could hear the concern in his voice and it made her stomach churn. She didn't want him hopping a plane because she might be in danger but the truth was, it was her father who always protected her. Part of her wanted him to come and make everything okay but she knew that it was time for her to stand on her own two feet. But she still needed him to tell her what to do. She still needed to be her father's daughter. "Not really, but I found out something about him tonight that makes me think that he might."

"What's that?"

"It's such a long story Da. Even Dr. Boland is involved. I feel all thins stuff coming at me from all sides and I'm not sure who or what to deal with first." Regan was on the verge of tears and she fought to keep all the emotions that were bubbling up inside her from her voice.

"Slow down, babygirl and tell me what's going on from the beginning."

"What do you mean you know?" Finn all but screamed into the phone, impatiently waiting for Justin's voice to come back over the receiver and tell her how the hell he knew what she was going to say.

"I mean, Regan already told me. I talked to her yesterday morning."

Finn slapped her forehead. He had absolutely no idea what she was trying to tell him. She had called the day before when she saw how Regan was reacting to her doubts about leaving the company but she hadn't heard from him until now and she knew Justin hadn't talked to her cousin since the latest developments.

"Listen, Finn, I have to get back to rehearsal before they don't let me get on that plane tonight."

"Justin, if you'd let me finish-"

"Finn, I know she's worried about leaving ABT but I can't drop my life because she's having doubts, especially not when I'm going to see her in a matter of hours." He sounded bitter and he was. He was still trying to work out all the shit that was going on in his mind when it came to just why he was bitter. JC had been right. He was scared that she didn't need him. "Besides, she didn't even bother to call me when she got home last night so obviously I'm not what she needs right now anyway."

"Hello?? Timberlake? If you would listen for two seconds, you would know why she didn't call last night."

"Fine. What?"

"She had a run-in with that guy Kyle Baxter last night after rehearsal," she told him running a hand over her face. She didn't know if it was the best thing to tell him before Regan did but she was never one to doubt what she thought was right at any given moment, consequences be damned.

"Wait, her physical therapist? What do you mean 'run-in'?"

"Justin, it's a long story. Something about Kyle knowing Jack and all this stuff about him working for Boland and-"

"What?!" Justin exclaimed, cutting her off, yet again. "I knew it. I knew he wasn't right," he continued to mumble.

"A hem! Can I get a sentenced finished?"

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Justin, Kyle told her some things about Jack past. Apparently he has a history of not taking not for an answer when it comes to breaking up."

"What? What does that mean? Did he do something to Regan?"

"No, no. I'm not sure on all the details. She really didn't get into it too deeply. She spent last night on the phone with her father and then she went to Mike's this morning. I think she's at rehearsal now. I've only had a chance to get bits and pieces but she's scared out of her wits and the bottom line is that she needs you. Now."

"Why didn't she call me, then?"

"Well, Justin, I'm sure she was thinking the same thing you were, ya know? That you'll be on a plane this afternoon so why worry you while you're at rehearsals. But, from what I've heard, you probably know even better than I do how stubborn she is when it comes to asking for help. I can see she needs you, though. The sooner the better, right?"

"Shit," he spat under his breath. "Finn, I don't know if I can get out earlier, but I'll try, okay?"

Mike and Bridget sat at their kitchen table speechlessly mulling over what Regan had told then earlier. The house was completely silent, Mae not having returned from a sleepover from the night before. Mike looked about ready to either kill someone or tuck himself into one big ball of worry. He looked up at his wife. "Go on. I know you're dying to say it."

"It's not exactly fun in this kind of situation," she responded, sighing into her mint tea.

"You've never not said it," Mike stated. "Just go ahead. Maybe you'll feel better."

"Fine. I told you so. He gave me a bad feeling from the start," she said in a tone lacking her normal I-told-you-so flare.

"Better?" Mike cocked an eyebrow at Bridget, a mannerism devoid of it usual humor.

"No. Besides, you never really disagreed with me anyway."

"True."

The silence fell again. Neither knew quite what to do. It made Mike feel especially helpless. He'd talked to his father after Regan had left for rehearsal and knew he felt the same way. It took a good half-hour to talk his father out of getting on a plane. They were the two people Regan had always depended on and Mike knew it. Not knowing what to do for her in this situation made him feel completely powerless. He also called the local police precinct to ask about options but with a lack of reported incidents and no proof to the allegations, there was nothing that could be done.

"So what are we going to do?" Bridget asked, her chin falling onto her arms that lay folded on the table.

"I don't know. The cops can't do anything unless or until he does something. I just don't know how to make her feel safe. Maybe she should go home to Da's and get a physical therapist in Dublin. By the time she gets fully recovered maybe this guy won't be a threat anymore. It's not like he followed that other girl to Mississippi," Mike suggested.

"Well, you know she won't agree to that, babe," Bridget said. "She's not going to up and leave Curly."

"Well, I don't know then!" Mike spat, shoving himself back from the table and standing up. "I'm sure Timberlake will understand if it's for her own good."

"I have no doubt about that, Michael," Bridget said, trying to keep calm despite her own raging emotions. "But Regan won't do it. New York is already too far away from him for her and you know she's been talking about getting a therapist down in Orlando. She's willing to make that kind of move to be closer to him. Besides, maybe that's for the best, anyway. She'll be with Justin and I think Florida is far enough away."

She made sense but Mike wasn't willing to admit it. Sure Justin would be there after the tour was done but if Mike couldn't be around, he wanted Regan to be with their father. They were the ones who always took care of her, not Justin Timberlake. In Mike's opinion, they were still so new a couple for her to be depending on him like that. "I still think she'd be better off with Da if she can't be with me."

"Mike, she's not a little girl anymore. I know that you guys have clung to each other and your father since your mother took off but you have got to let her lead her own life. She has got to learn to let people in outside of us. Why do you think I've been rooting for Justin all this time? I know that kid and his story and they are the best things that could happen to each other right now. You and your father have got to let her go."

"Bridget, she's nineteen and so is Timberlake. They may be good for each other. That remains to be seen. But they are still kids. She still has things to work through that she is going to need me and Da for."

"God, Michael. Why do you always get so damn cryptic when you talk about her like this? What things?"

"Not now, Bridg." Mike ran a hand over his face.

"Yes now. I want to know why you are so angry with your mother when Regan isn't. I want to know why she has all these issues that she has no idea where they come from when you so obviously do even though you deny it. I deserve to know, Michael and so does she."

Mike eyed his wife as though he was debating with himself. He pulled the chair out again and took a seat. "Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you."

Chris eyed his friend's frenzied packing from the doorway of Justin's hotel room. "Damn, J, you can't hop a plane to New York every time the girl has a bad day."

Jusitn didn't even look up. "Chris, there is stuff going on that you don't even know about so I advise you to butt-out for now."

Chris shrugged. "All I'm saying is that we start touring next week and it doesn't make much sense for the rest of us to be here at this point in rehearsals if the lead singer isn't."

Justin shrugged right back. "Then why don't you guys just come now too?"

"It's not that simple, curls-for-brains," Chris replied. "I don't what you had to tell Johnny to get another free Regan-pass but, man, c'mon. There are other people in this group who have girlfriends."

"Yeah and as far as I know, yours will be in New York tonight meeting you. So what's your fucking problem?" Justin continued to pack, hoping Chris would get the point and leave him alone. His nerves were frayed and if his friend didn't stop pushing, Justin was certain he was going to say something he didn't mean.

Before Chris could answer Justin's rhetorical question, JC came up from behind him and discretely patted him on the shoulder, motioning for him to leave he and Justin alone. Chris complied wordlessly, leaving JC with Justin.

JC cleared his throat before making his way over to the bed. Justin finally looked up from what he was doing to see who had sat on his pile of unfolded t-shirts. "Can I help you?" Justin asked incredulously.

"Well I was wondering what the hell was going on," JC began tentatively, "until Bridget called me a little while ago. I assume Regan told you what was going on?"

"No," Justin laughed humorlessly, "actually I had to hear this one from Finn."

"Oh," JC breathed. "Well, I think we're all going to fly up with you. Melinda is making the arrangements."

"Okay," Justin shrugged. "Anything else?"

"Not unless you want to talk, buddy," JC answered. "You look like you're ready to crawl out of your skin."

"Well," Justin replied, "that's only because I am. Now if you'll let me finish packing, I'd really appreciate it."

JC eyed his friend carefully before resigning himself to Justin's wishes and leaving the room.

When Justin was sure he was alone, he exhaled as though he'd been holding his breath for minutes. Plopping down on the bed beside his suitcase, he hung his head and trying to clear all the thoughts that were jumbled in his mind. Within minutes his cell phone started to ring eliciing a groan. "Hello?"

"Whoa, who shit in your cereal?"

Justin relaxed a bit and the sound of the voice on the other end. "Hey Cristin."

"Hey. So… what's the problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're obviously upset about something," she said impatiently.

"Excuse me, you called me. What can I do for you?" he answered, not wanting to spar with her at the moment.

"I just wanted to give you my flight number and everything. You've been unreachable the past couple days."

"Yeah, well, I've been busy," he answered, his tone softening but not completely. "And I've got a lot on my mind. When don't you just give me you're information and I'll talk to you tonight when I'll hopefully be in a better mood."

"Justin, Justin, Justin," she sighed. "Don't you know me at all?"

"Sully, not now, please," Justin groaned. He didn't want to do this right now.

"Something up with the ballerina?" She wasn't about to let this go if she could help.

"There are lots of things up, but Cris, I really don't want to talk about it right now," he answered hoping that would be the end of it.

"Fine, Justin. But I want to talk about this later when I see you. I won't let it go again. I don't know why you always think you have to go through things alone when you always have to be the hero for everyone else."

"Cristin," Justin started, not knowing exactly how to answer that. He thought back to when he'd first started really talking to Regan, sitting in some New York diner and lying through his teeth in order to get her to do something he'd never done for himself: ask for help.

“You were saying?” Regan prompted reaching for the milk.

“Oh right,” he mumbled, having just popped a few smothered French fries into his mouth. “So, you know I used to be on the Mickey Mouse Club, did Star Search and all that, right?”

She nodded, cupping her hands around her teacup and taking a sip.

“Well I never really had a problem performing in front of people. I’d get the nervous little jitters, sure, but for the most part I was fine. Then I joined Nsync. I was fine until one day, in the middle of our first tour in Europe, I started having these monster panic attacks.”

“Stage fright?”

“I thought so, at first, but then I started having them when we were no where near a stage. It was the not knowing why that freaked me out more than the actual attacks. It was a tough time that I eventually grew out of but I can still remember how it felt and it makes my skin crawl. I can tell one thing that helped me though.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked, knowing exactly where this was going. “I’ll bite. What?”

“My friends, my family— talking to them about it, especially. I mean, besides helping me, it helped them, too. When people who care about you see you hurting, they want to be able to help you because they hurt with you,” Justin explained, tearing his eyes away from hers.

The memory made Justin's skin crawl. He wondered if it was that story that had helped Regan make the decision to get help. In truth, not only had he known what it was that caused his panic attacks- Cristin's disappearance- he hadn't let anyone in. He shouldered it all alone until he was able to push it down far enough to forget. He told her what he thought she needed to hear and in the end he feared that it was he false words that had set the foundation that allowed her to push her reservations about Boland aside and allow him to do whatever it was he was doing to her. He wondered, knowing her history of two-day relationships, if his story had also laid the foundation that allowed her let Jack in.

"Listen, babes," Cristin's voice tore him from his thoughts, "I don't know what's going on, but you really need to start taking your own advice and talk about it. You keep all this shit bottle up and you're never going be able to work past any of it. I know you, Justin. I know you better than you'd like anyone to know you. So don't feed me some bullshit line about being fine or not feeling like talking when I grew up with you reading me like a book and pushing me open up to you. You never let anyone do that to you and I'm sick of this hero bull. When we meet up later, we're having a very long talk, my friend."

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