| ++ SEVEN ++ |
| "Where is he?" Justin's mom asked, her hand over her chest, her eyes wide. She pushed past Lance and nodded toward Joey, scanning the living room for her son. "Is he upstairs?" She began her ascent when Lance's hand landed firmly on her shoulder. "Lynne, he needs some space. He doesn't want to see you right now. If you could just give him some time maybe..." "Excuse me?" she gasped, brushing Lance's hand from her. "What are you talking about?" She forced a smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched in annoyance. "Did you hear what he did? Did you?" Her eyes were flashing with anger, and she stared at the 21 year old in front of her, the same boy who she'd comforted and held as a timid 16 year old when he was sick with food poisoning in Germany, and homesick when his own mother flew home to the USA. "Lance, did he tell you what he did?" Her voice raised demandingly, and she shook her head. "Is he up there?" Joey stepped in, sensing Lance's loyalty to his friend's mother flickering, his sense of respecting elders and good manners shaking him. "Uh, we really think it's best to leave him be right now. He's not feeling well, and he needs some sleep. Maybe you could come back later." Lynne spun around to glare at Joey. "And where shall I stay? I just drove hours to get here and see what the hell is wrong with my kid, the one who burned our home down. You think I should just turn around and walk out, leave him to your care? You're good judgement? Well, excuse me, but no one asked your opinion." She headed up the steps, and Lance cursed under his breath, the promise he made to Justin embedded in his mind. He feared Justin's mother, and was angry that she didn't even have the courtesy to spend time with her son, preferring to focus on her own life. Not that Lance could blame her, after all Justin was nearing 20, no longer a child in need of constant care. Still, it would have been nice for her to at least greet him when he came off tour. "Lynne," he tried again, dashing past her on the stairs. "I'm asking you not to disturb him right now, please." Lance tried to get the sheer desperation in his face to convey what he was feeling, without having to put it into words. He didn't know that he had that much strength, not after what had just happened. "Please, let's get some coffee and we'll talk. He just fell asleep." He ran his hands through his blonde tipped hair and tiltled his head at her. She backed down. "Lance," she cried, covering her face with her hands. "Please tell me what's happening. Is he all right? The police called me and told me about the fire, and I couldn't believe it. When the firemen said it was set, I knew it was him. I don't understand." Lance sighed. "Joe, would you mind putting on the coffee?" Joey nodded and headed toward the kitchen as Lance lead Lynne to the living room. "He showed up here out of the blue, and told me that you were planning on spending the holidays in Disney, and I think he was burned out, you know from the tour, and wanted to just kick back with his family, and when you weren't there..." "God, I never meant to do this," she exhaled heavily, her eyes clouded. "He's a grown man, Lance. I assume I don't need to coddle him. I never thought he'd burn our home down." "Is it bad?" Joey asked, returning from the kitchen. "You're house." "Superficial," she answered, digging in her purse for a tissue. "My office is gone, but the rest of it will just need minor repairs, and airing out. Thank God my kid isn't a pro at that, huh?" She let out a bitter laugh and blew her nose lightly. Lance nodded in agreement. Justin hated fire, he didn't even know how to light a match until Lance met him. When they did a promotional gig in Africa, a tribal leader burned some herbs in a bowl and passed it in a sign of peace. Each singer was to put their herbs in and blow on them. The flames licked high out of the bowl, and the terror in Justin's eyes said it all. He'd done it so he wouldn't offend the man, but shook the whole time. No, Justin Timberlake was not a fan of fire. That's what made it all the more odd to them all. "I'll keep him here," Lance commented, the comforting smell of coffee wafting through the air. "I'm calling in JC and Chris, and we're all going to stay here for a bit, connect with Justin and help him get through this anxiety, maybe get him to see someone." "You're good boys," Lynne said softly. "He's lucky to have you all." Joey glanced at Lance. "I think I should tell him you're here," he whispered. "He should be given the option whether or not to see you before you head back." Lance had to admit, it was only fair. But he needed to be the one to go up there and ask since he was the one who promised to keep her away. "I'll go let him know you're here." He trudged up the steps and entered the bedroom. Justin was up, propped against the pillows. "She here?" he asked. "Yeah." Lance sat on the edge of the bed. "You gonna go see her? It's up to you. I told her you're staying here, with us." Justin blinked, his eyes now dry. "I am?" He appeared even younger to Lance at that moment, even more vunerable. Justin, the focal point of N Sync, the one who was dragged in and out of tabloids, the one who just wanted to sing and dance, and perform for fans, sat crushed in the bed, little and alone, and looking for someone to care for him. "Yes. And JC and Chris are coming, and you're going to have to call Brit and apologize or something and get your shit together, but we're here for you." Lance stared directly at him, letting him know it was the truth. "You have to do it for you." Justin swallowed hard, his nerves a jumbled mess. "Send her up," he said finally, pressing himself back against the pillows, afraid of what his mother would say, the mother who sacrificed so much of her life so he could be sucessful. He felt guilt and sorrow, and wanted to make it right with her, because that's what it should be. "And I will call Brit and send her a gizzillion flowers." Lance grinned. "A gizzillion and one," he corrected, touching Justin's leg through the blankets. "Don't worry, J. We'll help you." Justin smiled back, thankful for good friends, no brothers. He settled back with his breath held. All the sorries in the world wouldn't make up for his insanity, his crazy behavior, and he wondered how much more his friends would take from such a selfish person. Lynne and Joey were sipping coffee when Lance returned. "He wants to see you," he said soothingly, understanding the pain they were all in. Her smile shined through, and she placed her cup down, walking for the staircase. "Thank you," she said. Joey sat back and eyed Lance. "All right. Now what the hell are we going to do? Since you committed us to fixing his head, something we're totally unprepared to do." He didn't mean to sound harsh, but what the hell did the four of them know about psyche? Especially Justin's. Lance sighed, laying down on his couch. "I have no idea. But I promised. And I intend to keep it." He draped his forearm over his head. "Can you call JC and Chris? Get them here. Justin will be better when we're all here." Joey picked up the phone, dialing the numbers he knew so well. "I hope you know what you're doing" "Me too," answered Lance. "Me too." |