Lance knows immediately that something's wrong.  *His* house is a
luxurious, sprawling home with all the best furnishings.  *This*
place is a hovel.

Unlike the other Lance, he knows immediately what must have
happened.  He just doesn't know how bad the situation is.

First things first.  He picks up the phone and calls Johnny's
direct line.  Unlike their own phones, Johnny's can be dialed into
without having the right code programmed into the phone doing the
calling.

He gets a Jamba Juice.

So.  Not in his own world.  In somebody's world, but not his.

Lance has never been out of his own world, but he knows the drill
on what to do if you find yourself gone.  First, check out the
time, date and local conditions.  Make sure it's safe and
present-day.  Second, locate the parents to find the other guys. 
Third... 

Third, learn the lesson you're supposed to learn and get the hell
out of Dodge.  Lance really doesn't like the idea that he's
supposed to learn a lesson.  For the most part, he likes his life
the way it is.

When the crazy person first calls her asking for Justin, Lynn hangs
up.  She doesn't know how he got her number, but she knows how to
deal with people trying to leech off of her precious baby's
success.

But he doesn't give up.  Within a week, she's got a lawyer on it,
but she's concerned about her baby, so she calls him to let him
know.

"Justin, honey, this is Mama."

"What is it, Mom?"

He's such a *good* boy.  "I wanted to let you know that there's a
very persistent man who's been practically stalking me, trying to
get a hold of you.You need to tell your people to watch out for
him.  I'm sure he's dangerous."

"Dangerous?  Did he give you his name?"

"Yes.  He said that he's Lance Bass.  The detective says that he's
a computer support person from Washington State.  According to the
detective, his driver's license says that he's five ten, with brown
hair and green eyes."

"Fine.  Got to go, bye."  Justin hangs up and turns back to his
manicure.

It's not even five minutes later when the phone rings again.

"What?" Justin snarls.

"Hello, Justin," a silky deep voice says.

"Lance?"

"Yes," Lance says, unsurprised.  "it's good to talk to you again,
Justin."

"Look, I've never talked to you before.  If I'm lucky, I'll never
talk to you again."

"I suppose that's so.  If you're not interested in Michael Jordan's
own Air Jordans, then you're simply not interested.  I'll have to
apologize for taking up your time."

"Huh?"

"It's nothing.  I was told you were interested in certain kinds of
especially hard to find sneakers.  But if that's not true, then I'm
wasting both of our times.  I'm sure I'll find someone else who is. 
I mean, they are autographed, with the original laces."

"If you were told that, why weren't you told my number?  Huh?"
Justin asks triumphantly.

A low rippling laugh comes down the line.  "Your interest in
sneakers is well-known, Justin.  It's not exactly a national
secret."

"You're lying.  You're just some fucking tech worker."

"If you say so.  As I said, my apologies for wasting your time." 
And Lance hangs up on Justin.

Justin shrugs.

Lance puts down the phone and looks out the window of his hotel
room.  That went well.  Initial contact with Justin is established
and he's sure that Justin is the same, or nearly the same as his
own Justin.  Still convinced of his own importance, still
surrounded by hangers-on, still attached to his momma.  Not that
he'd really thought Justin would change.

He puts the shoe box in the closet and contemplates his next move. 
It'd been easy to reacquire fortune in this world.  It isn't what
you know, it's who you know, and Lance knows everyone.  Knows who
has what, knows what they want and knows how to get it.  This world
seems identical to his own, with one crucial difference -- no Lou
Perlman.

He hasn't been able to find Chris, no surprise there.  JC has been
equally hard to locate -- Lance suspects he got into the porn scene
in LA and just vanished.  Joey's doing stand-up comedy, and doing
fairly well at it, if you don't compare it against his NSYNC fame,
and no one in this world can.  And Justin is a still a sexy
motherfucker, and still a best-selling musician.

In the two weeks he's been here, Lance hasn't figured out what he's
supposed to learn and he can only find two of his guys.  He might
never figure it out.

But in the meantime, he can get back his life.

Phase two is to move into Justin's orbit.  Become a wheeler-dealer
and someone to know.

Shoes arrive at Justin's house.  Air Jordans, with signature and
original laces.

A little investigation into how things are, a word in the right
ears, and things are going more Lance's way.  He knows who's
sleeping with whom, who was sleeping with whom, who has the
potential to be hot, and what to avoid.  He's looking long-term and
short-term.  Long-term means backing Aaron Carter, 'cause the kid's
sex on legs and he's not getting the kind of play he deserves
because no one's ever heard of Nick Carter.

Short-term, warning the right people of certain weaknesses of those
in their employ.  Using the right words to gain entry into the
inner circles -- knowing, for example, that to get a pair of rare
and valuable Air Jordans, the person to talk to was a producer in
Phoenix, and what *his* price was.  That kind of thing.  Knowledge
is power.

Justin doesn't hang up when Lance calls again.  "Oh, yeah.  You're
that Lance creature.  What do you want?"

"I have to have an ulterior motive for calling one of the most
available bachelors in pop music?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, my mistake.  And here I'd thought that you might be
making an appearance at the Matrix premiere."

Justin rolls his eyes.  "What do you want?"

"The pleasure of your company?"  A smirk and then a teasing laugh. 
"Sex."

"What do you want?" Justin repeats sounding bored.  Because he is. 
Why don't people ever understand that he doesn't care when they use
him?  He'll just use them back.  But he won't play a game he
doesn't know the rules of again.

"I just told you.  I'll be in town the rest of the week.  Then I've
got to fly out to New York to start shooting for a movie.  Some
project that no one thought was worth making.  About weddings and
family.  I think it'll do well."

"I don't even know you.  Why would I want to have sex with you?"

"Because you don't get enough of it and I'm damn good at it?  But
you're right.  We should meet first.  Would you like dinner before
the movie?"

"News flash, you're a guy."  Not that Justin hasn't slept with
guys.  He didn't get where he is by having scruples or be being
innocent.  And he's had sex with guys other times, too.  It's not
too bad.  He can take it or leave it, really.

"And?  Your point?"  Lance is amused.  "No dinner then, I take it. 
I'll see you at the premiere."

"I don't want to go," Justin admits.  "Is there some reason I
should?"

He's got him!  Fortunately, no one can hear you smirk over the
phone.  He's kinda missed Justin.  Not as much as he misses having
his own life, but still.  Having Justin was an important part of
that life.  "Keanu Reeves is kinda hot?"

"Ew?"

"You don't think so?  The tight leather, half-constipated look is
good on him.  Accents his limited acting range."

"Ew," Justin repeats firmly.

"I'll make sure not to wear leather then."

"Again, why should I go?"

"If good company, pleasant conversation, entertainment and the best
sex you've ever had don't interest you, I can't think of anything
that would."  Lance isn't boasting.  He knows exactly what Justin
likes.

"Fine.  Come over.  I don't wanna see the movie."

Lance considers it for a moment.  He's not sure about playing
milkman here, but he *is* confident of his ability to sell the cow. 
"You're on."

They set a time.  Justin sets up his camera.

Lance makes sure that his clothing and grooming are perfect.  He
needs to make a better than good appearance.  A stunning
appearance.

Armed with a basket of Justin's favorite -- and difficult to find
-- snacks, he goes to meet Justin.

Justin answers the door.  "Your hair is different."

"Different from what?" Lance asks ingenuously, handing Justin the
gift basket.

"Your driver's license photo," Justin says, taking the basket and
going to the kitchen.  "Drink?"

"Yes, please.  And that photo is nothing like me.  I'm practically
another man now."

Justin rolls his eyes and sets the tempting basket aside.  "What do
you want for dinner?" he asks, gesturing to a stack of delivery
menus.

Lance waves them off.  "Whatever."  He flashes Justin a grin. 
"What diet are *you* on?"

Justin's eyes get a little harder.  "Whatever you want is fine."

Lance shrugs.  "Got a good vegetarian place?  I'm going the salad
route right now."

"Yeah, the bottom two are fine.  What do you want to drink?"

"Soda if you've got it."

Justin gets a Diet Pepsi out and pours it over ice.

Lance accepts it with a nod.  He'd actually meant soda water. 
"Thanks."

Justin shrugs.  For all he's done this before -- had a stranger
here to fuck -- he's still a little uncomfortable with it.  But
this is business.  This Lance has something on him.  It must be
something big, too, or Lance wouldn't have risked exposure with the
shoe thing.  Justin *needs* to get something on Lance.  That's what
the tape is for.

Lance takes a sip and sets the glass aside.  He's not going to
drink it, not even for Justin.  Maybe even especially not for
Justin.  He doesn't have to go to that much trouble for Justin. 
Just tolerate Justin's little obsessions and get him off.  Justin
does the rest of the work of the relationship himself with his
romantic streak and his tendency to hang onto someone. 

"Not what you meant?" Justin asks, indicating the glass.

"Not really," Lance says, pacing toward him.  "But then, I'm not
really all that thirsty either."

"Really?"

"No," Lance says, and puts his hand on Justin's neck, thumb on the
pulse point under Justin's jaw, fingers curving up behind Justin's
ear.  Just the place to make Justin shivery.

Justin raises his chin arrogantly.  "Just like that, huh?"

Lance frowns at him.  This isn't the way it's supposed to go. 
"Should I have brought candles?"

"I have candles."

"Roses, maybe?"

"I have roses, too."  Justin reaches out and touches Lance's jaw
lightly.  "What do you want from me?" he asks.  One last chance.

Lance tilts his head into Justin's touch.  "You."  In his head,
he's thinking, ~I want my life back~, but he can't say that,
because there's no way this Justin would ever understand, and Lance
won't risk everything for nothing.

"Why?"

Lance wets his lips and tries to think of what to say.  Not the
truth.  Never the truth.  He settles on, "I want you in my life."

Justin's lips twist in a smile.  "Show me.  Make me."

Lance's smile comes back.  One he knows to be sexy and
irresistible.  "Oh.  I will."

Justin kisses Lance quickly and then pulls away.  "*Make* me," he
whispers.

Lance's smile gets larger, and he follows Justin to the bedroom.

Justin's careful to make sure to get just what he wants on tape. 
He's not taking any chances.

Lance isn't completely pleased with Justin's reactions -- Justin
seems less into it than he'd like during parts of it, but Lance
makes damn well and sure to get Justin off good.  A few flowers and
a well-placed confession of feelings should be enough to finish the
deal.

Justin comes, because the guy is actually pretty good.  If he were
a girl, it would have been really good.  But he's not, so it's
mostly okay.  Justin's not totally creeped out after.  He doesn't
tell the guy about the tape, either.  Just in case he turns out to
not be using Justin after all.

Lance has dinner with Justin.  When he leaves, he takes Justin's
hand.  Looking down, he says softly, "I really enjoyed that.  I
hope I get the chance to see you again."

Justin wonders if Lance thinks he's sincere.  Justin knows, he can
see, that Lance has some other motive.  He's trying to play Justin. 
It's too bad.  "Yeah.  It was nice," Justin says.  It was, too.  It
just would have been nicer if it were real.

Lance is triumphant all the way home.  Until his flowers get
returned to him and Justin won't take any more of his calls.

It makes him angry for a while, because getting Justin would've
been an easy route to getting his life back.

But there's others, and he's not going to waste time worrying about
it anymore than he's going to waste time thinking about what he has
to learn.  He misses the guys, but there's something about having
a whole new world to play with -- one that's never heard of 'On the
Line' or NSYNC, one that will take him seriously.

Justin fires his secretary for returning Lance's flowers.  After
that, he just can't answer the phone.  He's not one of those guys
who plays games.  Not with real relationships.  He could have done
this, actually tried with Lance.  But not if he's already sent some
weird message by returning the flowers.  Game's over, you're out,
put one in the loss column.  It still hurts -- just a little -- to
see Lance hanging off someone else at an industry party.

Lance steers very carefully clear of Justin after Justin spurns
him.  Ordinarily, he'd look for revenge on someone who'd done that,
especially after the amount of work Lance put into Justin's
seduction, but the guys are sacrosanct.

He enjoys getting Joey his same role in 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding'. 
No one really notices, because there's no special attention paid,
but Lance is proud of Joey.

Justin watches Lance schmooze.  He's good at it.  Justin hates
himself because he can't stop looking.  He's drinking too much, but
he can't pay attention to his glass *and* Lance.

Purposefully not noticing someone requires paying closer attention
to them than when he actually doesn't notice them, so Lance
realizes when Justin gets too drunk.  He avoids Justin and heads
for Justin's bodyguards.  They're even easier to spot when he knows
them so well.

"Hey, Lonnie," he says, "word to the wise.  You should get your boy
home soon."

Lonnie crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.  "That so, *Mister*
Bass?"

"I'd tell him myself except that'd guarantee he'd stay and get
drunker."

"I've got my orders.  Thanks for the warning."  Lonnie turns away,
conversation over.

Lance curls his lip.  He doesn't know this world well enough to
whether Lonnie's being deliberately dense or if things are so bad
here that Justin can and does get publicly drunk and disorderly. 
Chris would never have stood for it -- but here, Justin's never
known Chris.

Justin's a quiet drunk.  He learned that early.  He stays meekly at
his table.  He won't be getting up unless Lonnie's right there.  He
even has an escort to the bathroom and back.

Lance relaxes when he realizes that Justin never gets out of his
chair without a bodyguard standing over him.

He shakes himself for being stupid -- and worse, protective -- over
someone who doesn't know him or want him.

Somehow Justin loses track of Lance, which is okay, because he
finds him in the bathroom.  Justin would really prefer to be modest
and wait or go somewhere else, but if he doesn't piss right now,
his bladder will explode.

Lance waits til Justin is done, but he can't resist saying, "You
should watch it with the drinking.  This isn't a good place or
time."

Justin looks at Lance.  "Huh?"  Then he sighs and looks away. 
Could he be any more of an idiot?

Lance's mouth tightens.  "Never mind.  Sorry for bothering you."

Lance walks away.  The door is open when, "I'm sorry she sent the
flowers back," Justin says in a rush.

Lance turns.  "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry my secretary sent the flowers back," Justin repeats,
looking at his shoes.

Lance lets the door close.  Justin didn't send them back?  That
means his approach was fine, that he'd been doing everything right. 
He's not sure where to go from here.  "Hey.  It's okay.  I'm... I
was disappointed, but I got over it."

Justin nods.  "Okay.  I'm sorry.  That's what I meant to say."

Lance's hands are in his pockets.  In the time since giving up on
Justin, he's established himself here.  He doesn't really *need*
Justin in order to have a safe, comfortable life here.  Or a
rewarding, luxurious life either.

The idea of not needing Justin is a little weird though.  "Like I
said, it's okay.  I wanted you and I didn't get you, and so I've
had to spend the time getting other things instead."

"Okay."  That's about what Justin expected.  His importance was
based on the other things he could get Lance.  At least he's not
being blackmailed.  "Uh.  Yeah.  See you around, I guess."

"Yeah, sure," Lance says.  He doesn't feel any sense of urgency
anymore about Justin, but...  "I'd still like to see you.  Talk to
you.  There's this guy I'd like you to meet.  I think you'd like
him.  As a friend."

Justin doesn't understand.  "That sounds good, but to be honest,
I'm a lot drunk.  Can I call you tomorrow afternoon?  Or," he
checks his watch, "*this* afternoon?"

"Yeah.  Sure thing."

Justin nods and watches Lance with wide eyes.

Justin doesn't look away and, after a second, Lance realizes he's
serious.  Lance pulls a card out of his pocket and holds it out. 
"My phone number."

Justin flushes because he'd assumed it would be the same.  He's
always stupider when drunk.  "Thanks."

Lance smiles at him.  "You're welcome."

Justin smiles back.

Lance heads out, tipping his head and smiling at Lonnie as he
passes.  Lonnie's gonna think he blew Justin in the bathroom. 
Works for him, since there's no way to convince him otherwise.

Lonnie shakes his head when Justin comes out.  "Boys are nothin'
but trouble, Justin."

Justin sighs.  "I know.  He makes me feel... special."  Justin
rolls his eyes, because he knows Lance is just like everyone else. 
"Take me home, Lonnie.  Take me home."

Lance doesn't wait at home for Justin to call, but he does take his
phone with him when he goes.  Just in case.

"Uh.  This is Justin, calling for Lance," Justin says to the
generic voice mail.  "I'll try back later."

Lance could cry when he finds the message on his voicemail.  He's
had his phone with him and on all day, and somehow Justin's call
went to voicemail.

If he was still after Justin, he'd take this as a success.  After
all, he's playing hard-to-get.  Justin wants him and Justin can't
get him.

Lance dials Justin's number.

"Hello?" Justin asks.  The first ring still echoes around the room.

"It's Lance.  I got your message."

"Hi, Lance."  Justin grins.  "What're you up to?"

"Oh, you know.  Wheeling and dealing.  Gotta be somebody or you
aren't anybody."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," Justin says dryly.  "Anyway.  Did you
maybe wanna get together some time?"

"Yeah, that'd be cool.  Got somebody I'd like to bring over with
me.  I think you'll like him."

"Oh, um.  *Just* a friend?"

His instincts are telling him that Justin wants him bad and to act
on it now.  He could get Justin back easy.  The only thing is,
after the time he hasn't had Justin, Lance finds himself wondering
whether he really wants him at all.

"Yeah, just a friend.  Guy from the movie we just wrapped.  He's a
stand-up comedian.  I think people are really gonna like him."

"Good," Justin says in relief.  "I hate threesomes."

"Threesomes?" Lance asks before he can stop himself, because it's
not something he was expecting to hear.  Not even close.  "No. 
Definitely not."

Justin shrugs even though Lance can't see him.  "Some people think
once they've had you, they can have you any which way they want."

"Uh, yeah.  Well..."

"So, yeah.  Come over."

"Okay.  Will do.  Soon as I talk Joey into it."

And that's that.  Justin's going to make a new friend.

Joey agrees to come with easily.  Lance cheats though -- he doesn't
tell Joey who they're going to go hang out with.  Just that it's a
friend who's in the music business.

Justin flattens his hair and opens the door.  "Hi."

"Hi.  Justin, this is Joey.  I was telling you about him.  Joey,
meet Justin."

"Hi, Joey."  Justin offers his hand.

Joey gives Lance a brief 'I'll get you for this later' look, then
shakes Justin's hand.  "Hi, Justin.  I've heard your music.  Can't
say I like it, but it sure gets the chicks."

Justin laughs.  "Come in."

Joey does, grinning back at Justin.  Lance follows them, smiling at
nothing in particular.  Maybe Chris' pet theory has something to it
-- they are all meant to be together.

Justin sets them up with cold food and they sort of lounge in the
kitchen.  Joey makes Justin laugh a few more times, which is way
cool.  But Justin doesn't really understand why Lance wanted them
to meet.

Joey claims that he needs to make it an early night, "Not that I
don't like you guys, but you're *guys*," and gets a cab, leaving
Justin and Lance alone.

Justin closes the door and shifts from foot to foot.  "So."

"Yeah.  I can head out now.  I just thought you'd like to meet
Joey."

"Oh.  Well."  Justin tries not to be disappointed.  "Well, yeah. 
He's cool.  Thanks for, uh.  Thinking of me?"

Lance has no trouble hearing the lack of enthusiasm in Justin's
voice.  "You... you didn't like him?"

"No, I like him.  I just like you more.  And you're leaving." 
Justin shrugs.  "Now, apparently."

Lance sits back down.  "I'm not if you don't want me to."

Justin looks at Lance, all sitting on his couch.  Justin smiles.

"You didn't seem to be into me, and since then, I've reassessed my
priorities."

"I understand.  It's good of you to stay a bit longer."  Justin
nods.  "I know that you're getting busy out there.  I imagine
you'll have better things to do than come to my house before too
long."  Justin sits across the couch from Lance, instead of on his
lap.

Lance shakes his head.  "Busy, yeah, but I'd still want to come."

Justin nods.  "Sure.  Well, you can come over any time you want. 
I think you're just peachy keen."  He smiles goofily.

Lance is beginning to think that he's achieved his original goal
without even trying.  His instincts tell him to smile, to turn on
the charm and consolidate his advantage, but he feels uncomfortable
about that.  He doesn't understand why either.

Lance stands.  "I should go."

"Okay."  Justin walks Lance to the front door without question or
comment.  He cannot like Lance like that.  He just can't.  It's a
bad idea.  "Drive carefully."

"Will do."  Lance reaches to touch Justin -- to kiss him, but he
drops his hands before making contact.  "See you around."

Justin smiles meaninglessly.  "Sure."  Lance turns and goes out. 
Justin leans against the door, watching the other man walk away. 
His smile turns wistful.  "No, you won't," he whispers.

Lance regrets the decision all the way back to his place.  He could
have had Justin.  He wants Justin.  He wants his life back.

Except this isn't his life or his Justin.

Justin sighs.  And makes a choice he's made countless times before. 
He closes his heart and his feelings.  Lance will never be anything
more than a fuck or a friend.  It's nothing new.  Justin doesn't
even have any trouble falling asleep.

Lance flips his Palm open when he gets home and starts making
plans.  There's more choices out there than Justin.  And, when you
get right down to it, he doesn't want to learn any lessons.

He wants to stay here where he's a brilliant movie producer and a
success.

And if he misses Justin, well, he'll get over that.