Lance woke up the next morning feeling safe, content, and loved. It wasn't until he stretched the kinks out of his tired body that he realized that he was not alone in his bed. He froze. He thought quickly over the events of the previous night. It all came back to him. The horrible dream that he had had during the night. Chris yelling at him while he hyperventilated. And Justin.
Justin had stayed with him the whole night. Sleeping in that God awful position that he was in now. Lance sat up to get a better look at him, doing so slowly so as not to disturb the younger, sleeping man. Justin was sleeping, still seated against the headboard, where he had held Lance in his lap all night. Lance could still feel the warmth of Justin's arms around him. It was a feeling he never wanted to lose. He had the random, fleeting thought of bottling it to keep always and forever. Something he could take out when he felt all alone, and feel that again. Any time he wanted.
'You could feel that anytime you wanted. You only have to confess what you really want. Is that so wrong?' He asked himself, knowing that it may not be wrong to admit his feelings, but it wouldn't be right. Not for the group. Not for Justin. He couldn't do that to his friends. He couldn't do that to Justin. Especially now. Hadn't he already done enough to them?
He'd endangered Justin's life. Albeit unintentional, he did it none the less. Justin could have been killed, and although Lance wouldn't have pulled the trigger, it would have been as much his fault as it would the bastard that had broken into his home. He could have prevented it. He could have kept his feelings in check and stayed at the studio. He could have just told Justin the truth when Justin had confronted him. There a lot of things he could have done, but didn't.
Slowly, quietly, Lance moved off of the warm bed. He had to get out of the room. He had to think. He crept silently to the door, opening it carefully and closing it soundlessly behind him. He took a deep breath. The house was quiet. Justin's house.
Lance thought randomly about getting his carpet cleaned, but quickly pushed the image of his blood soaked carpet out of his mind as felt and tasted the bile rise in his throat. Breathing deeply, Lance made his way down the hall. A quick check in on Chris told him that the older man was sleeping and probably would be for a very long time to come.
Silently, Lance made his way down the stairs of Justin's house and to the kitchen. He filled the coffee pot, which Justin never used unless one of the guys made coffee. Justin didn't like coffee, Lance thought as he measured out the ground coffee and filled the filter before flipping the switch. As the machine brewed the aromatic liquid, Lance leaned against the counter, trying to figure out how things had come to this. How could they have gotten so out of control.
He had meant to protect Justin. He didn't want him involved in what was going on. He didn't want any of the other members of Nsync involved. Now all of them were involved, and it was going to be ten times worse than before. Because he had killed one of them. He didn't know which one or how many there were, but he had killed one. He couldn't imagine what was going to happen now.
He didn't know that they would have gone this far. He thought it was just more idle threats like he and the rest of the group had received since they made it to the "big time". He had brushed the letters off, thinking them just bored teen age boys with nothing better to fill their time. Sure, the letters were a little unnerving. Of course he had reported them, and management and security had agreed with him. But now, he knew differently.
He didn't know how they found out where he lived. He didn't know why they were focused on him, the least popular of his group, which was a place he was happy to be in. All that he did know, is that even though he thought the threats idle to him, and took no extra precautions to protect himself, he had taken those precautions to protect Justin and his other friends. He didn't tell them about he notes. He didn't tell anyone except Johnny and the man in charge of their security. But he didn't tell them about the notes that had shown up in his hotel rooms over the past few weeks. He didn't tell anyone about those. That's when he knew he had to push Justin away. He couldn't let the younger man get too close to him if it meant endangering him.
That's why he hadn't told anyone. They wouldn't let him be alone. He would be forced to be with someone 24/7, be it security or another of his band mates. He couldn't do that to his friends, to Justin. It was imperative that he keep them safe. And look where all of his precautions got him.
Here he was, in Justin's house, after an attempt had been made on his life. An attempt that had almost gotten Justin killed as well. And why? Because Justin loved him so much, he followed him home to see what was wrong with him.
Lance groaned in frustration, digging the heals of his hands into his eyes.
Now he was going to have to tell the police. There was no way around that. It couldn't be helped. They had actually come into his home and tried to kill him.
"Lance?"
Lance let out a small cry of surprise, having not heard Justin come down stairs and into the kitchen. He quickly spun around to face the younger man.
"Geez, Justin! You scared me. " Lance said, placing a hand over his heart, trying to slow his breathing down.
"Sorry. You okay?" Justin asked, running a tired hand through his mused curls. He waited for Lance to answer as he made his was further into the kitchen to retrieve his daily cereal and milk.
"I'm fine. Just thinking. Nothing important." Lance lied, secretly watching the youth walk through the kitchen, clad only in a pair of boxers and tee shirt. Lance couldn't deny that the boy looked good first thing in the morning, his skin flushed from sleep, his meticulously prepared hair disorderly and unruly, his eyes half closed with sleep.
"You sure? That was a pretty bad nightmare you had last night. Want to talk about it?" Justin asked, sitting down with his bowl of cereal across from where Lance was preparing himself a cup of coffee.
"Nothing to talk about really. I don't remember it to tell you the truth." Lance said. 'LIAR!' his brain screamed at him. He remembered it. He remembered the horrible dream all too well.
"You were telling Chris and I about it last night. You sure you don't remember it?" Justin asked, his tone telling Lance that he wasn't buying his story. 'Shit, I did forget about that.' Lance berated himself. "I just don't really want to think about that right now Justin." Lance said, turning to face his best friend, his love.
Justin looked into Lance's eyes, sure there was something that he wasn't being told. He let it slide, for now. "Ok. We can talk about it later if you want. The cops are probably going to come by later today to talk to you. And JC and Joey will probably be here in a little while. You know how they worry." Justin said with a small grin, which Lance returned. Just as if cued, the door bell rang, followed by JC's voice calling into the house for them.
"We're in here C!" Justin called.
"J, keep it down. Chris is still asleep." Lance admonished him, laughing a little at the younger man.
"Oopps. I forgot." Justin said, the glint in his eyes telling Lance that he hadn't actually forgotten about their older friend asleep upstairs.
"I'm going to shower before the cops get here. I suppose it won't be long." Lance said, his shoulders slumping as he thought about telling them about the letters he had been receiving, knowing that the guys would find out. They would have to tell management which meant that management would tell the rest of the group if he hadn't done so already.
"We'll be here for you man. Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine." Justin assured him, hugging Lance quickly as he past.
"Hey, Lance, Justin." Joey said as he and JC came into the room.
"Hey, I'm going to shower. I'll see you guys in a few." Lance said hurrying up the stairs to get his stuff together.
Once Lance was out of hearing distance, JC walked over to sit next to Justin, as he played with his cereal, pushing the sweetened bits around in his bowl of milk, but not eating them.
"How is he doing?" JC asked, moving the bowl away from Justin.
Justin put his spoon down, sighing as he did so. "I don't really know C. Last night he had a bad nightmare, he told us some of it. Then this morning he said that he didn't remember much of it, which, by the way, was an out right lie. Something's bothering him, and I don't think it just has to do with yesterday either." Justin said, looking the older man that he had known for more years than he could count, in the eyes.
~*~
Lance sat on the couch, surrounded by his friends as they watch some comedy film that he just couldn't not get into. The only thing he could think about was the man who had broken into his home the day before. The letters he had been receiving. The threat that he was putting his friends in by just being there with them. If they tried once, and failed, ending in the death of one of them, they were sure to try again. Only this time they might succeed, and someone else might get hurt.
Lost in thought, Lance didn't notice the movie being cut off, he didn't notice the door bell ringing or the detectives that walked into the living room. It wasn't until Chris shouted his name that he came back to the present and out of his thoughts.
"What? Oh." Lance said, noticing the detectives standing in the door way of the living room.
"Mr. Bass, I'm Detective Rodriquez, and this is my partner, Detective Monroe." The younger of the two men introduced them. "We wanted to talk about what happened yesterday. We have a lot of unanswered questions."
"I'm sure you do. Please have a seat." Lance said, motioning for them to take the seats that his band members had vacated, to give him and the detectives some privacy. Although they weren't in the room, he knew them all too well. He knew that they were in the kitchen next door, leaned against the door frame, listening to ever word that was being said.
"Just a second. Guys, come on back in here. I know you're listening at the door anyway!" Lance called into the kitchen, shooting a small smile at the two detectives. They grinned back at him as his four friends shuffled back into the room, heads down at being caught.
"Ok Detectives, what do you need to know?" Lance asked, his voice grim as he turned back to the gentlemen in front of him.
"We found evidence that the assailant, whom we still have yet to identify, was in your house for sometime. Apparently, he had been waiting for you to come home. We suspect that he wasn't quite prepared for you to come home so early though. You caught the man by surprise, which may have been a good thing for you." Rodriquez explained.
"What we need to know is, do you have any idea who this man was, or why he attacked you." Monroe asked, point blank.
Lance felt all eyes turn to him. His shoulders slumped. The cat was out of the bag now. Lance slowly nodded his head, first looking down then looking around the room at his friends. The same friends he had tried to protect. His eyes landed on Justin. The same friend and love that he had put in danger.
"Tell us what you know, Mr. Bass." Rodriquez prodded, flipping a note book open that he had taken from his pocket.
"I don't know a lot really. A few months ago I started getting these threats with my fan mail. The normal stuff. 'Boy Bands suck.' 'You don't deserve to live.' Yadda yadda yadda. 'Watch your back' Etc. Etc. It just the normal stuff that we've all gotten since we became so well known. I gave those to management, just like we're supposed to." Lance said, looking around the room to find his four friends staring at him in disbelief, and the two detectives listening intently to his story. "They thought the same thing about them that I thought. It was nothing. The same old stuff. Some teenagers who didn't like our music and had too much time on their hands. Of course, we took the minimal precautions and all of that stuff. Then nothing happened. Life moved on. They were forgotten. About a month later, I got another one. Only this time, it didn't come in my fan mail. It was in my room, sitting on my pillow when we got in from a show one night. I freaked." Lance said, staring at his hand with a new facination.
"Jesus, Lance. Why didn't you tell us?" Chris asked, studying his close friend.
"What did the note say?" Monroe asked.
"It just said that they were watching me, that they could get to me when ever they wanted. That I was going to die." Lance said, looking up, but quickly looking back down at the hurt and questioning gazes.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"I was scared." Lance admitted. "I didn't want to put anyone else in danger. If I had told management, they would have made me stay with someone all of the time. Either security or one of the guys, and I didn't want them to get hurt because of me. SO I didn't say anything about them. I was trying to protect them. But, I guess that was useless." Lance said, casting a scared and concerned glance at Justin.
"How many threats did you get Mr. Bass?"
"About five. I have them at my house. I suppose you're going to need them, so I'll go by later today and get them for you. My manager, Johnny Wright had the others."
"Anything else you can tell us?"
"That's all I know. I don't know why they are doing this. I don't' even know if it is a "They" or if it was just the same guy that was in my house. I don't know where they are, or what was planned. I've told you everything I know." Lance said, studying his hands once again. He was telling the truth. The police and his friends now knew as much as he did.