| THREE |
| Justin searched the car, his hands shaking with fear. Chris was fucked up, and he'd told him, warned him not to buy shit from strangers. Justin slammed his fist against the leather seat and paused to wipe the sweat from his foehead. JC was going to have a fit, and he was shit sure that he would be blamed, just like always. Fuck you, Chris. Fuck you and your nasty fucking drug habit and fuck the asshole who sold you this shit. He found the tiny baggie, stuffed carelessly behind the seat. Justin pressed his lips together and zipped the baggie open, taking a sniff. He wasn't sure exactly what he was sniffing for, but it looked clean to him. Pushing it into his pocket, he started to get out of the car. A small, metal box caught his eye. Justin leaned down and pulled it out from under the car mat. It had the initials CK on it, and he popped it open, rolling his eyes at the array of tiny pills in there. Chris could have taken any of them. "Jesus Christ!" he hissed, placing that in his pocket as well. Justin hurried back inside the club and ran through the small crowd gathered. Lance was holding Chris' head. Chris looked dead, he was ghastly white, and a small pool of white spittal ran from his mouth. "Lance?" Justin's eyes were wide with panic, and he knelt down beside him. "God, is he..." "Don't fucking say that!" Lance growled, looking around at the spectators. He turned to the bodyguards. "Can you help us get him the hell out of here? For fuck's sake, you'd think these people had better things to do." Justin moved forward, grabbing Chris' feet. Lance held him under his arms while security cleared a path, screaming at the people to move back. Chris garbled something incoherently as the chilly air hit him. Vomit spewed from his mouth, catching Lance off guard. "Dammit!" he groaned, moving quickly toward the car. "Where the hell is the ambulance?" Justin bit on his thumb as Chris was lowered into the car. He was scared, fucking terrified. "I gotta call JC," he said to Lance. "He'll know what to do. He always knows what to do." Lance turned on him harshly. "Don't you dare. I swear to God, if you call him, I'll kick your ass." His light green eyes shone shades darker with rage, and he struggled to grab hold of the entire situation. "Just sit down. We'll take him to the hospital and he'll be fine." Lance wasn't actually sure. He was freaked out as security followed them into the car and headed toward the nearest hospital. He chewed on his lip, and brushed Chris' hair back, trying to make contact with him. "Chris? You okay man?" A small, sick moan rumbled from his mouth, and Lance sighed with relieft. "Goddamn, Chris, wake up!" Justin sat sniveling in the seat across from him. "That's not helping, Lance. It's not helping. Call JC. Please." Security spoke up, used to keeping to themselves, used to the out of whack antics the five singers often put them through, but this was way out of control. Flashes of River Phoenix flashed by, and they were not sure they wanted to take on that kind of responsibility if Chris siezed to death. "Lance, I think Justin's right," one said, grimacing as Chris writhed in discomfort. "Call JC, see what's up." Lance glared at them. He didn't need JC, and what the hell was so fucking great about JC anyway? Why when something went wrong did everyone automatically chant 'call JC'. It was stupid was what it was, and he shook his head, determined to do this himself. "I can handle it. Just get him to the hospital." Lance stared down at the unresponsive lump groaning and frowned. How dumb could one person be? Chris had done this before, only once, but still. They'd warned him. He just wouldn't listen. ********************************************************************************************* The emergancy room was packed full of wailing babies, hacking adults, and vomiting kids. Lance shook his head as he made his way in, understanding what a horrible sight it would be if a fan happened to be in there. Luck was evil with him this evening as a fan rushed over to him, gasping and coughing all over him. "Lance? Oh my god, mommy, it's N Sync." Lance smiled patiently and nodded toward her. He found the clerk and hurried over. "My friend is out in the car, and I need some way to get him in here without being noticed." The admissions clerk nodded, not completely understanding, as she spoke little English. Nevertheless, she followed him out, grabbing two nurses on the way. Lance shivered as the wind picked up and pointed to the car. "He's in there," he said, forcing his voice to steady. Damn Chris and his drugs. They loaded him onto a stretcher, and as Justin climbed out, Lance shook his head. "Fans in there," he explained, snorting bitterly. "We stay here." He hated pulling rank on his younger friend, but if this got out, oh shit, if it got out... Justin seemed content with his orders, and sank back down into the car, picking his nails with worry. Chris had to be okay, and as soon as they released him, he was personally going to kick his ass. He fingered the drugs inside his pocket and drew them out, tapping Lance on the shoulder. "Should you bring these in?" "God no," Lance cried. "Fuck Justin, what do you think they would do if I handed them a baggie full of drugs?" He eyed him with a knowing look. "One of them would alert the media, and make a pretty penny off it. Duh!" "Sorry," Justin said, slinking back. He was pissed off, hating being talked to like a baby. He slammed the door shut and plucked his cell phone from his pocket, placing a call to JC. That would teach Lance to be high and mighty with him. Fucking asshole. "What?" The scream across the line made Justin flinch, holding his phone far away from his ear. "Justin! Exactly what hospital are you at? I'm on my way." Justin rolled down his tinted window a bit and looked out at the neon light. "Community," he answered, regretting the call immediatly. "I'll be right there. Stay put and for chrissakes, keep Lance quiet." Lance poked his head in. "Justin?" he asked warily. "Whatcha doing?" "Calling JC. He's on his way. He wants you to stay put." Justin snickered contentedly at the look that flitted across Lance's face. "You little shit," Lance growled, shaking his head. "Why can't you ever listen to me? Why?" He slipped into the car and stared over at him. A doctor knocked on the window. "Mr. Kirkpatrick is alert," he told them, his eyes darting about the expensive limo, looking for tell tale signs of drug use. "I need to know what exactly he took this evening. Can you boys tell me?" Lance shook his head innocently, a frown of concern tugging his lips down. "No, sir. We were all at a club, and me and him," he pointed toward Justin, "we don't do drugs. Best of my knowledge, he doesn't either. Was he slipped something?" Justin pressed a chuckle down at the sheer line of bullshit Lance was dishing out. The guy could act his ass off, that was for sure. As the doctor clicked his teeth at them, Justin tried his acting skills out as well. "Oh my God, could that be? Could someone have slipped him something?" Frustration built up inside Lance, well aware that Justin was mocking him, and as soon as the doctor left, he was going to punch him, hard. "Well, if you do find anything out, it's imperative that we know." One last accusing look and he walked away, back into the ER. The forceful punch to his leg made Justin wince as a flash of pain shot through his thigh. "Hey, that hurt!" he pouted. "Good," came the reply. ********************************************************************************************* JC scowled as he spotted the limo at the ER entrance. Immature babies, that's all they were. He tried and tried to get them to grow up, act mature and responsibly, but they had to screw around, every city, every time. He barely waited for his car to stop before he jumped out and rushed over. Swinging the door open, he let his gaze burn into the two of them, condeming eyes ripping into them. "Move over," he hissed, climbing in. "What'd he take this time?" Justin shrank back a bit, and handed over the pot and the pills. "I didn't see how much or what." JC shook his head as he took a whiff of the herb. "Is is laced?" Lance shrugged. "Who knows? You know Chris. You can't tell him. He's so fucked up half the time and..." "And what were you two doing? Getting laid as usual? Leaving him alone when you know goddamn well he does this shit?" Justin looked out the window becasue JC was right, as usual. Lance flared his nostrils. "If you're so concerned, why don't you go out with him once in a while?" "Because someone needs to keep this group going, and it sure isn't going to be you two!" He pocketed the drugs and stepped out. "Now I'm going in for damage control and you two just get the hell out of my site. And stay the fuck out of trouble." JC shoved past the useless bodyguards, annoyed with them as well. "Would you please get them back to the hotel? And keep them there!" He stormed into the ER to see just what the eldest N Syncer had done to himself this time. |