Pairing: Chris and JC
Words: myth; allure; lottery; girlish


*Keep it secret, keep it safe*.  

Strike one, being poor.  Strike two, being smart.  Strike three,
being short and weird.  There was no fourth strike, he was out, and
Chris had only one defense in the psychotic jungle of high school,
and that was to become popular.  Some way, somehow.  Being funny,
having a great voice, and being in plays gave him some measure of
security, but essentially, he knew what he was.  He was prey.  He
wasn't safe, he was called out at the plate without ever getting a
chance to run the bases, and really, the only thing that could make
it worse, did.

He was fourteen the first time it happened.  The Mutant
Registration Act was only being dreamed about then, but everyone
knew about mutants, knew what they were.  Freddy-the-fatty, who
picked his nose and ate it; Keith, the 20-year-old retard who was
still going to school even though he was older than everyone else
-- even they were above mutants in the pecking order.  Dangerous,
different, wrong.  Some of them could level a city block by looking
at it, and that was more than enough reason to fear the kid with
pink skin, or maybe even just a kid with pink eye.

Chris was already wrong enough without his peers finding out what
happened when he got more than a few feet off the ground.

He manufactured a fear of heights to keep people from knowing.  He
didn't want even his mother knowing about it, because she had
enough to worry about.  And it wasn't a fear of heights, it was a
phobia, because he wasn't the least bit afraid of heights.  The
terror that went through him was only marginally related to the
drop.

He got older.  The kids he'd gone to school with got older. 
College kids were a little more mature, a little more open.  Some
people accepted mutants.  Not everyone hated them and harassed them
and wanted them stopped and controlled.  Chris continued to hide.

He got a job at a theme park.  Their anti-mutant hiring policy was
discreet.  No mutants around the children.  Couldn't have that.

Then he met, one after another, the four Js.  Justin, Jason, JC,
and Joey.

He knew when he met Justin that something special was going to
happen.  Even Chris, who knew the worst that could happen in any
situation, could feel it.  Being around Justin was like breathing
in belief in something bigger, brighter, belief in Justin himself. 
It was impossible not to like him, impossible to see him and refuse
him anything.

Justin got them Lou or Lou got Justin; Chris was unsure how it
happened.  Lou was as unable to resist Justin's charisma as anyone
else.  Chris watched him closely, because such charisma was
dangerous and Chris knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men. 
What Lou wanted, though, was more voices, and then there was Jason,
who was young and cute and talented, yet somehow not as
shining-bright as Justin.  Followed by JC, who had energy that
simply could not be believed and enough musical talent to propel
even Justin's dreams.  And finally Joey, solid, dependable and
flexible of voice.

A vocal group anyone could be proud of, even in their rough,
beginning stages.

They don't talk about that night anymore.  It was forgotten,
omitted from the official myth that made up the NSYNC story and, in
any case, Justin wasn't there.  Neither was Lou, but Justin was
important.  Everyone knew that.  Lou was just a means to an end and
everyone knew that too, even at the beginning.

Joey -- solid, dependable Joey -- caused the crisis.  They were
horsing around, playing basketball.  Chris reached up to block him,
and brushed too close as Joey turned away.  He caught his hand in
the loop of the silver necklace Joey wore, and before he knew it,
the chain broke and went flying.

"Oh, hey.  I'm sorry," Chris said, stopping to look for the
necklace.

"Shit."  That was Joey, dropping down to look too.

Chris hadn't known the necklace was that important to Joey, and
hoped it wasn't broken too badly.  He knew what it was like to have
few precious things and to have to guard them carefully.

"Fuck!"  That wasn't Joey.  That was Jason.  What did he care?

Chris saw the glint of silver and grabbed the charm.  The chain was
still threaded through it, but it looked broken.  He turned to give
it back to Joey.

A Joey who had grown long brown hair on his exposed skin, his
hands, arm, legs and face now ape-like.

"Shit!" Chris backed off.

Joey stood there, hands raised.  Chris noted that.  Hadn't
registered it at first, but Joey was just standing there, watching
them with every sign of possessing as much intelligence and reason
as he had before growing the hair.

"Joey?" he asked.  "What happened?"

"Can I have my necklace back?"

"Yeah, sure," Chris moved forward to give it back to him -- he
wasn't scared.  He'd seen Joey in costume; this was no different. 
The mask wasn't rubber, it was real, and, if anything, the real
version looked faker.

Jason grabbed his arm.  "What the fuck do you think you're doing? 
Don't go near him, he could kill you."

"Joey?"

"He's a mutant!"

That much was perfectly obvious, and Chris said so.  "And if he
didn't kill me for putting his socks in the blender, he's not going
to kill me now.  By the way, did I ever say I was sorry for that,
Joe?"

"No, you didn't, but it's all right, Chris," Joey said, still not
moving.

"See?"

"But he's..." Jason was sputtering.

"He's Joey.  The same guy he was five minutes ago, before..." 
Chris looked at the necklace in his hand and figured it out
suddenly.  "Oh!  Sorry again."  He gave it back to Joey.

Nothing happened, other than Joey taking it and closing his hand
around it.  "Thanks.  I'll just go into the house now."

He did, and the door shut behind him, leaving the three of them
alone outside in front of the basketball hoop.  JC had a thoughtful
expression on his face, but wasn't committing himself one way or
the other.  Chris was going to get him for that, presuming JC was
on his side.  No, he was going to get him either way.  After all,
he was going to get Jason for being an ass, and Joey for turning
into King Kong, and they were completely opposite actions.

"It's a good thing we haven't signed the contract yet with the
label."

"What?" Chris asked.

"Duh!  That thing!  It's just good that we found out about it now. 
We can find another singer to replace... him.  Baritones are easy
to find, too.  It won't be hard."

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked, like he didn't know,
when he did.  When Jason was the popular kid who'd just discovered
that Freddy-the-fatty had somehow ended up on his team and there
was no way the popular kid was going to put up with it.

"C'mon.  You don't think we could make it as a band with mutants in
it.  That's just... people aren't going to put up with that.  I
can't even believe that they let them run around like this.  If
Joey's a mutant... anyone could be.  Think about it.  The people
right next door could be mutants too."

"That they could.  We could all be mutants."

Jason made a face.  "Not us.  We're normal.  We're--"

"This morning, Joey was normal."

"No, man.  He was-- you aren't trying to suggest that *I'm* a
mutant?  Because I'm not."

Chris gave Jason a smile.  Jason backed up.  "I'm not suggesting
anything.  About you.  But Joey stays in the band.  You're welcome
to leave though.  Like you said, it's just well that we haven't
signed any contracts yet."

"You can't-- you wouldn't choose him over me."

JC, who'd been silent up until now, stepped up.  Chris didn't look
at him.  He didn't know anything for sure about JC.  Anymore than
JC knew for sure about him.  But he suspected something about both
him and Justin.  That didn't mean he was right, though.  He hadn't
had a clue about Joey.

"JC, man--" Jason said.

"Chris is right," JC said, and he wasn't smiling, but he looked
hard and mean and not even a little girlish.  "You should go.  And
don't even think about saying anything to Joey.  Or about Joey. 
Because it's tough being a mutant in this business, but it's just
as tough being gay."

"You don't--"

Chris smiled at him again.  Jason backed down.

The parting threats were weak.  Chris watched him walk away though. 
Never turn your back on an enemy, and never ever turn your back on
a former friend.

"I thought maybe you were," Chris said, not looking at JC.

"It's obvious, if you're looking."

"Not really."

"Then I'm getting better at hiding it, because I've been told for
years now that I act too gay and that I need to butch it up."  JC
gestured at his hair, which was absurdly short and exceedingly
unattractive.  "Do you think I *like* looking like this?"

"Oh.  The gay thing.  I meant..."

"Oh.  The mutant thing.  Do you... would you... after what you said
just now I didn't think you'd have a problem with mutants."

"I don't.  Have a problem, that is.  I'm fine with it.  With Joey. 
And you, if you are."

"Yeah."  JC looked at the ground.  "That, too."

"That's fine.  Really it is.  It's great."

"Except that we no longer have a bass.  And they're not as easy to
find as baritones."

"Especially not basses who don't have a problem with their
bandmates sprouting long silky hair."

"Yeah."

In the end, they had to send to Mississippi to find a bass. 
Someone who didn't know what had gone down, because Jason *had*
talked, not with the most damning details, but enough to keep
prospective singers shy of the nascent band.  Someone Justin knew,
and in the end, Chris was relying on that, hoping that what he
thought was true about Justin *was* true and that Justin would
know, somehow, who was and was not predisposed toward mutants.  Not
that Chris knew Justin was, because they hadn't talked about it. 
Any of them.  When he and JC had gone back into the house, Joey
looked normal again, and if they kept finding long brown hair in
the bathroom drain for a while, no one talked about it.  He hadn't
asked JC what his power was, if he had one at all -- one of the
worst things about being a mutant, for the mutants, was that it was
a genetic quirk, not a gift.  They might be able to fly -- or they
might be unable to metabolize oxygen.  They might be colored bright
green, with no other blessing but that of instant identifiability
to every bigot on the planet.  Chris didn't want to ask, because he
didn't want them to ask him.

Lance was geeky, awkward and completely wrong in every way.  He
could sing well enough for a high school choir, but his wasn't the
voice superstars were made of.  His idea of dance experience was
laughable, and where Justin had presence, Lance had anti-presence.

Chris didn't have the power to tell who was good and who was bad. 
He wasn't Santa Claus.  He'd been in favor of Jason.  But Justin
liked Lance and Lou didn't.  That was as good a character reference
as anyone was ever going to get.

They needed a bass.  Lance was in.

NSYNC was huge wherever they played.  Audiences loved them.  The
more they toured, the more popular they became.  Europe first, then
eventually the United States.  The big time.

They got rid of Lou eventually, and made their own music.  It
sucked.  Chris knew this.  "Digital Getdown" was not high art.  It
was music only because it was played to a beat and packaged and
sold as music.  They toured; the album sold.

There was no way to be certain, but Chris was as certain of it as
he could be of anything unprovable: Justin was a mutant.  Their
records sold because they toured.  Because no one who saw them live
could do anything but love them, and once in love, would do
anything for Justin.  Even make "Digital Getdown" a hit.  Chris
wasn't sure whether it was a live thing or if it could be
transmitted also through videos and print.  Whatever Justin had, it
didn't work through sound.  Simply hearing their music wasn't
enough.  It seemed to work a little through print, more through
video.  Live was the kicker though.  See the Justin Timberlake
experience live, and you were hooked for good.

Some people were naturally resistant, he theorized, and at first he
thought it was possible to build up some kind of resistance over
time as well, but then he argued against putting his own track on
"Celebrity" to make room for one of Justin's and he gave up that
hypothesis.  Knowing it was happening helped, but not much else
did.

Chris agreed to tour even when his knees started getting bad, even
when the schedule was outrageous because he was sure that it was
the key to their popularity, and if you weren't popular, you were
nobody, you were out.  He wanted to be safe, but he didn't know
what safety felt like.

They never talked about it, and every show was a struggle for him. 
They walked on catwalks, they soared on wires, they were never
satisfied with staying on the ground.  He battled with himself
every night to stay normal, and let them make fun of him for his
phobia.

They were on the moving stage, only a few feet above the crowd when
it happened.  JC hipchecked him, and he overbalanced, falling
sideways off the platform.  He couldn't help it, he reached,
instinctively trying to catch himself, and they came out.

Wings.  Sharp and jagged bone, tearing through first his skin then
his stage clothes.  The costume shredded more easily than his skin,
and the membranes were fresh with blood that was spattering past
his cheek even as they beat, holding him in midair above the crowd
that was still screaming, although those who could see most clearly
were screaming in fear.

Chris closed his eyes.  It was over.  He'd lost it, and taken down
not only himself, but NSYNC as well.  He should have told them, but
he'd thought it was his problem to control, not realizing until now
that it was their future to lose.  He'd been betting on winning the
lottery, but the odds had always been against him.

And then he was standing on the platform again.  JC hipchecked him,
and Lance grabbed a fistful of his shirt just as he started to
fall.

Chris looked at Lance, startled and bewildered, and Lance pulled
him more firmly in, mouth open, singing.

Singing.  Oh, yeah.  Right.  He was supposed to be singing.  The
guys were glancing at him, and Chris opened his own mouth, falling
back into place.  Nothing to see here, folks, move along.

After the concert, he made sure to herd Lance onto the three-man
bus.  Joey followed him, and Chris let him.  They deserved to know,
all of them.

"What happened out there tonight, Bass?" Chris demanded.

"You almost fell off the stage, old man," Joey said.  "What was
that?"

"JC shoved me," Chris said.  "And don't change the subject.  I was
talking to Lance."

"He saved you from getting your clothes ripped off by the crowd,"
Joey said.  "Leave him alone, okay?  He helped you out.  You don't
need to be ragging on him."

"Joey, butt out.  This is important.  Like ape-man important, if
you get my meaning."

Joey shut up.

"So, Bass...?"

Lance sighed.  "I'm a mutant."

"Yeah, I figured that.  So am I, as you've got to know by now.  And
so is Joey and JC, and probably Justin, too.  We're one big happy
mutant family.  I just want to know what happened out there
tonight."

Lance looked down at his hands.  "I saw you fall off.  And then...
the wings.  I just reacted."

"Wings?  Chris?"

"Yeah," Chris said, not taking his eyes off Lance.  "Wings.  It's
not a big deal.  I can't fly, so don't even ask me."

Justin snorted.  "Dude, you're afraid of heights.  How ironic is
that?"

"It's not ironic.  It's me trying to keep them from coming out. 
Whenever I get off the ground, they start trying to come out. 
Every fucking night, they try to do it, and I have to keep them in. 
Hurts like a sonofabitch too when they come out."

"You were bleeding," Lance said.

"They feel like bone, with maybe some sort of fleshy stuff between
them.  They're not even a little like angel wings or anything like
that.  They hurt, and they don't do anything, and I hate them.  And
tonight, JC pushed me off the stage and they came out and the whole
arena got a good look at them over the monitors.  Except it never
happened, did it, Bass?"

Everyone was looking at Lance now.  "No.  It didn't."

"And why's that?"

"Because I can make things unhappen.  Kind of turn back time, but
only for about a minute.  It's good for keeping Joey from spilling
soda on my laptop, but not much else.  Until tonight."

"How come I remember what happened if it never happened?" Chris
asked.

Lance shrugged.  "Because I was touching you?  Sometimes other
people remember, sometimes they don't.  Usually they just think
it's some kind of deja vu experience."

"A change in the matrix," JC observed.

"Except this isn't a movie, and this is serious.  If Lance hadn't
done that, all of our asses would be grass right about now. 
Senator Kelly ring a bell with any of you bozos?"

JC, Lance and Joey all nodded.  Justin looked puzzled.  "Who's he?"

"Mutant Registration Act, dumbfuck.  Like for pedophiles, only with
mutants.  So everyone knows where you live, where you go, what you
do."

"Everyone already does know that about us," Justin said.

"Pedophiles.  Criminals.  That's what people think mutants are. 
And even if I got a useless power, and Joey's is worse than useless
-- and by the way, man, now that we're talking about it, the
eyebrow piercing is the smartest thing you've ever done.  Constant
contact with silver."

"Yup," Joey agreed, smiling.  "Not going to be easy to tear that
out.  *And* I've got a chain as back-up."

"Even if all of that, and even if you ignore how potentially
dangerous Lance's power is, *yours* is beyond frightening."

"*Mine*?"

Chris nodded firmly.  Tell him the truth.  Quickly.  "Dude.  No one
has that much natural charisma.  You could sing the ABCs and people
would buy it.  And it's not because you're a great singer.  You
aren't."

"Chris!"

Must resist.  Must hold out long enough to say it.  "Nasal.  Whiny. 
Irritating.  This is your voice.  JC is twice the singer you are. 
Joey is, too."

"Chris!"

Big blue eyes.  Pouty lips.  Chris caved.  "But you have something
they don't, and that allure is why you'll always be popular and we
won't.  Not without you."

Justin smiled at him, and he felt better, then felt like an idiot
for feeling better, because he knew what was going on, and hated
himself for being so easily manipulated.  The smile turned into a
frown.  "But I'm not a mutant."

"Okay, well, technically, I don't know that I'm a mutant either,
but barring having a genetics test done, I'm pretty sure having
wings sprout out of my back qualifies me as not a normal human. 
Ditto for you."

"I still don't think..."

Chris sighed, because really, it was impossible to disagree with
Justin for any length of time.  "Fine.  It doesn't really matter
what you want to believe, as long as you don't have a problem with
all four of your bandmates being mutants.  Because we are."

"JC, too?"

JC nodded, then looked sheepish.  "It's nothing special.  Just kind
of like being a human battery.  Store up energy, use it up all at
once.  If we weren't performing, no one would ever notice.  We
don't -- being on stage isn't like normal life."

"We've noticed," Chris said drily.  His knees were starting to
throb.  He needed to ice them.  "So, anyway, thanks, Bass.  You did
a good thing tonight."

"Maybe we should try to rework our shows," Lance said.  "If this is
going to be a continued problem, we should look at ways to minimize
the possible risks.  If I hadn't seen it happen and jumped in--"

"But the kiddies love it," Chris said.  "I can deal with it.  I've
dealt with it this long.  It won't be a problem."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it," Joey said.  "We're here to
help out.  You should've said something, man.  Didja think we
wouldn't want to help?"

"Yeah," JC said, and laid his head on Chris' shoulder.