Pairing: JC and AJ
Words: altruism; aspire; etiquette; imaginary


People thought they knew the story behind AJ's drinking problem. 
They were wrong.

Even AJ's supposed nearest and dearest, the Backstreet Boys
themselves, didn't know the real reason until AJ attempted to
bludgeon his brain out of his head with a half-full fifth of vodka. 
Nick stopped him, at the cost of a broken hand, and there had been
a serious discussion about AJ's lack of responsibility, what he
owed to the group, and his need to curb his growing addiction.

Unfortunately, his problem was larger than any of them could have
possibly imagined.

"I don't believe you," Kevin said, looking at AJ, who had been
cornered on the couch, and brought to bay, Howie sitting guard at
the other end.  "If you're psychic, how could we not have known? 
You're lying."

AJ's head was tipped back against the couch, eyes closed.  His
glasses had been confiscated, the better to keep him from lying. 
AJ could lie to anyone, anywhere, anytime, so long as they couldn't
see his eyes.  "Fine.  I'm fucking lying.  I don't give a damn if
you believe me, Kevin.  I don't give a fucking goddamn about
anything right now except getting some sleep."

"There's more important things--"

His head shot up, and he glared at Kevin.  "There is nothing more
important than sleep.  I would kill for a decent night's sleep.  I
would sell my soul.  I'd sell Howie's soul.  Anything. Just to get
some time alone in the dark where they aren't any fucking thoughts
or feelings or anything but nothing.  Do you get me, Kevin?"

It was the truth, that much was obvious in the flash and pain of
AJ's eyes, but it was an obvious and worthless truth.

"That won't solve anything."

"Nothing will solve anything.  Nana's dead."

"I'm sorry for your loss.  Your grandmother was a wonderful woman. 
But you have to move on, AJ.  You can't let it ruin your life."

AJ laughed.  An insane cackle.  "You don't understand anything. 
That's why I can't move on.  Why everything's wrong.  Why it's
falling apart.  Why I need to shoot myself in the head and just get
it over with already."

Howie gave Kevin a concerned look, and scooted closer to AJ.  "I'm
sorry, AJ.  I knew Nana was important to you, but I had no idea she
was that important.  Would it help if I called your mom?"

AJ laughed again, the sound only slightly more sane.  "Yeah, call
my mom.  At least she can tell Kevy-Kev that I'm not making this
up."

"Denise will say you're psychic."  Kevin's tone was flat and
disbelieving.

"Have been since I was little.  Wasn't so bad then.  And I had
Nana.  It was mostly just emotions, and never very strong.  I could
ignore them.  It got stronger as I got older.  Still, it wasn't so
bad until Nana got sick.  Then I started feeling it more. 
Especially when we do this," he gestured to the hotel room. 
"Crowds.  Lots of people, hormonal, intense teenagers, focused on
*us*.  Yeah, and that's a rush.  Don't know half the time if I'm
them or me, and whether I want to fuck all of us stupid or shoot
myself in the head because I can't have us."

"You're gay?"

AJ's laugh sounded broken off in his throat, and he closed his
eyes.  "Hell if I know.  Don't know if it's me or them, and you
know what?  I don't really care.  With Nana dead, I can't stop it. 
Nothing stops it except the liquor, and even that isn't working
much anymore.  Nothing's working."

"So your grandmother exerted some sort of control over your
powers?" Howie asked.

"I can't believe you're going along with his bullshit," Kevin said. 
"It's all in his head.  Imaginary.  The delusions of a drunk."  AJ
wrapped his arms around his waist tightly.

"Kevin," Howie said gently.  "Maybe you should go in the other room
and call in Denise.  And then check on Brian and Nick.  See if
Nick's hand's okay."

Kevin snorted, but got up and left.

"Thanks, D," AJ said, relaxing minutely.  "He's... intense up
close.  So you believe me?"

"Yes.  I never really understood why you were so devastated when
she died.  I know her death hit you hard, but you were shattered. 
I figured you must have been closer than you let on, but it seemed
kind of strange since, as far as I knew, the two of you didn't see
each other much or talk much."

"No, we didn't.  It wasn't really necessary.  Not with... the
thing.  I don't know what to call it.  The bond.  Whatever kept
*this* from happening.  I knew she was alive and well and happy,
and I was okay, and that was it.  Until she wasn't.  And I wasn't
either.  She was a really awesome grandmother, too, but this..."

"I understand.  Sort of.  Isn't there... wasn't there anyone else
in your family who could help out with whatever it is that's going
on with you?"

AJ shook his head.  "It's complicated.  Nana was always there for
me, from when I was really little, but she told me a little, and
I've been looking for a while now.  People like her are really
rare.  No one else in my family can do it."

"What's *it*?"

"I don't know.  It's just something I can feel in them.  Something
that makes them able to control whatever it is that I do. 
Sometimes I feel people like that when we're on stage, in the
audience, but separating out one voice in a crowd.  I can't do it. 
It's so frustrating, feeling that brush of whatever, and having it
gone and all those other feelings just hitting me over and over and
over.  God, Howie.  I don't know what to do.  I swear, if there
were any other way but the alcohol, I'd take it.  But it's the only
thing that makes it even a little liveable.  I don't want to hurt
the band.  I know how much it means to you.  I know it's your life. 
Even if you don't say it."  Tears were leaking from the corners of
AJ's eyes.  Howie's feelings projected outward, he realized.

Howie pulled back.  "I'm sorry, AJ.  I didn't mean to make you feel
guilty.  Yes, Backstreet's important to me, but you're more
important.  I want you to get better."

AJ rubbed angrily at his face.  "Yeah, I know.  Just makes me want
to fuck you more."

"Um..." Howie debated whether to back away.  Was there some sort of
etiquette for dealing with an empath or a telepath or whatever
brand of psychic AJ was?

"Sorry.  Didn't mean to freak you out.  I just... fuck.  Help me
knock myself out.  Help me to stop feeling like this, at least for
a little bit."

"Would a sleeping pill help?  I know you said you're having trouble
sleeping."

AJ shuddered.  "No.  No sedatives.  Those just make things worse. 
Alcohol deadens the edges, makes it easier to deal with, but
sedatives... I end up lying there, awake, unable to make my body
move, and still feeling like I do right now.  Don't know if I've
ever wanted to kill myself more than that.  I have a new worst
nightmare -- being paralyzed and unable to slit my wrists to make
this stop."

"You need help," Howie said gently.

"Yeah?  What kind of help?  Mental help?  Do you think anyone would
believe this?  Kevin doesn't.  A shrink sure as hell wouldn't."

"Still, you can't go on like this."

"Don't you think I know that?  What am I supposed to do?"

"We'll think of something, AJ.  We will."

****

Rehab was the reason everyone got for why the tour had to be
canceled abruptly.  It was dramatic, shocking, and inspired
altruism in the fans and management alike.  AJ hated it.  His
problem wasn't the drinking, and this meant -- if they could find
a solution for the real problem -- he'd have to give it up.  And
spend most of the rest of his life with people watching him to make
sure he didn't relapse into his 'alcoholism'.

Of course, given that his current plan was to shoot himself in the
head if he had to go back on tour *without* the benison of alcohol,
it didn't really matter very much.

Alone in a rented house in Arizona, miles from the nearest human,
he felt fine.  Better.  Normal.  Lonely.

Howie called him a lot.  The others not so much.  Despite Denise
vouching for his story, Kevin still didn't really believe him. 
Nick was still a little hurt by AJ pushing him away -- but Nick was
the hardest to deal with.  He felt things more than the rest of
them, perhaps because he was younger.  Howie was soothing, both in
person and on the phone.

"How are you going to find the person you need to find if you stay
locked inside the house?" Howie asked.

"Could be the delivery guy," AJ said.  Twice a week, groceries were
dropped off at the door.  He never saw the person who brought them,
and that was fine by him.

"You only have a month, AJ.  You have to do something about this
before then."

"But what?" AJ asked, frustrated.  "I'm supposed to be in rehab,
not wandering around the country, checking out random strangers."

"Surely there's someone you know who would fit.  We've met so many
people,  Isn't even one of them the right kind of person?"

AJ sighed.  "It's a little more complicated than that."

"Okay, so explain it to me."

"The person... they have to be right, mentally, or whatever it is
that lets them be able to control this thing of mine, but..." he
paused, not sure how to say it, not sure if he wanted to say it. 
"It's more than it sounds.  They could... take advantage of it."

"Take advantage?  How?  You rarely saw your grandmother.  Would you
need to spend that much time with whoever it is?"

"No, but... this is going to sound stupid, but, it's like I always
knew Nana loved me -- I could feel it.  And I had that standing
between me and everything else I felt.  I don't know if it works
any other way, or if it could work.  I do know I'd feel whatever
they wanted me to feel, whether I liked it or not.  And how do you
ask a complete stranger to love you no matter what, and not take
advantage of you, when you're who I am?  I've thought about it.  A
hundred times in the past few months.  I just... I'd rather
self-destruct than have someone else have that much control over
me.  I can't stand Kevin as it is, how the hell am I going to
stand... y'know."

"AJ..." Howie said carefully, "Maybe I'm not understanding you, but
are you saying that you do know someone who might be able to help?"

"It wouldn't work."

"But there is someone?"

AJ let out his breath in a low groan.  "JC.  Chasez.  The NSYNC
guy.  He's got whatever it is that Nana had.  I felt it when we did
that basketball thing together."

"That's great!"

"No, it's not.  It's not even close to great."

"Why not?"

"I just told you why not.  It'd never work.  Look, Howie, there's
not a lot of options left here.  I don't want to be the reason
Backstreet breaks up, but I'm not going to be able to go back out
on tour, and without the touring and the public appearances, we're
nothing."  He wasn't going to tell Howie that after enough time out
here without contact with people, he'd probably beg to go back to
touring.  There was something he got from being in front of an
audience that he couldn't get anywhere else, an emotional charge
that was probably the true addiction, far more than alcohol.

"He's a nice guy, AJ.  Let me talk to him.  Sound him out."

"It won't work."

"You can't give up yet.  C'mon, what could it hurt?"

He didn't know.  He had no answers about any of this; he'd come
into his 'powers' such as they were when he was a pre-teen, and his
grandmother had almost immediately taken him under his wing.  He
didn't know anything more about them than she had, which was almost
nothing, just that sometimes, in his family, this kind of thing
happened, and when it did, the person affected either found help or
went crazy.  He supposed he should have talked to her more, but
he'd always kinda thought of her as permanent, something that
wouldn't and couldn't change.  And when she'd gotten sick, he'd
done his best to deny that there was anything wrong, that his
perfect life could change, could come crashing down around him.

"Fine.  I can't stop you."

"Thank you.  I'll be careful.  I want you to get better."

"I'm not sick."

"Well, then, I want you to be yourself again.  I want you to be
happy."

"Yeah.  I want that too."

****

It wasn't really a surprise when someone knocked on the door three
days later.  No one ever knocked -- the house was too far removed
from civilization to get salesmen, and both the Boys and the
delivery guy knew better.

There was really only one person it could be, even if AJ hadn't
been able to feel his presence through the closed door.

He opened it anyway.

It was JC standing there, looking, well, feminine with the nearly
chin-length curling hair.  He looked -- and felt -- concerned. 
"Hi.  Howie told me.  I wanted to -- thought we should probably
talk about it.  If that's okay."

"Yeah."  AJ stepped back.  "Come in."

JC did so, and followed AJ into the living room.  "So, um, you can
read minds?"

"No.  Not really.  I just know how people are feeling.  When they
feel strongly about things."

"Oh.  So you don't know what I'm thinking?"

AJ shook his head.  "I don't want to know either.  It's bad enough
being able to feel it."

"I feel bad?"

AJ winced.  That had hurt JC.  "Yeah.  I don't *want* to have to
feel how you're feeling.  Bad enough to have to feel the way I do
without adding in how you feel and how the guy down the street
feels, and how the ten thousand screaming girls feel.  Put that all
together and I feel like shit.  Hell, shit probably feels better
than I do."

JC seemed a little happier at hearing that.  He was almost as
exhausting as being with Nick, except JC didn't feel so strongly. 
His rollercoaster didn't go as far up or down.  Wouldn't even faze
him if he didn't feel so raw.

"What would I need to do for you?" JC asked.  "Howie wasn't very
clear about that."

AJ shrugged.  "I don't know.  Just, act as some sort of buffer
between me and the world.  I don't know how it works."

"So, um, if you don't know, then how...?"

"Listen, this was a stupid idea anyway.  I know it isn't going to
work, you know it isn't going to work, you should just go back to
Florida or wherever you were when Howie got a hold of you, and
forget about me and my weird-ass problems."

"No, no!" JC said hurriedly.  "I don't think that.  No.  You need
help.  I can.  Well, I can feel that.  Sort of.  It's strange."

"You can?"  AJ had never come across anyone who could do what he
could.  Not that it was something he talked about, so, for all he
knew, half the world's population could do it.  His grandmother
could tell what he was feeling, but she couldn't do that with
anyone else.  Maybe this *could* work.  It was a scary thought.

"Yeah.  You... you're freaked out.  A little.  By this.  Aren't you?"

"Yeah.  More than a little."

"And you don't like me."

"It's not personal.  Mostly.  I don't want to have this problem,
and I don't want to have to ask anyone for help, much less, well,
you."

JC frowned.  "I don't like it that you don't like me.  How is this
going to work if we can't get along?"

"It doesn't have to work."

"Uh huh."  JC folded his arms.  "What are you going to do if you
don't find someone to help you?  Kill yourself?"

"Probably."

"That's awful."

"Yeah.  This hasn't exactly been a happy joy-ride for me, y'know?" 
He didn't know how to express the way he felt, like things were
spiralling further and further out of control, and how this time
away from public contact should be making him feel better, but was
instead letting him experience falling apart in slow, excruciating
detail without the pressure of other minds to distract him from
coming apart inside.

"It's okay."  JC touched his knee.  "You don't have to tell me."

He nodded.  Felt an impulse, and took JC's hand.  "Thanks."

"You're welcome."  JC squeezed his hand.

Maybe this could work.  JC was smiling softly at him now, pretty
and girl-like, and he was glad now that Howie had called him, had
gotten JC to come.  "You can't tell anyone about this."

"I wouldn't.  I won't."

"If you do this, you'll know how I feel all the time.  It isn't --
I don't think it's a bad thing.  Nana never said how it affected
her."  And, he realized, maybe it had been bad for her.  She loved
him a lot.  Maybe she'd dealt with a lot of bad things to make sure
he was well and safe and happy.  It wasn't like he could ask JC to
do that for him.  He didn't know that he would do the same for JC. 
Or for anyone.  "I always knew how she felt, but it wasn't a big
deal, just something I knew.  The sky's blue, the sun's shining,
Nana loves me.  Like that."

JC threaded his fingers through AJ's.  "That's really cool.  That
you could have a connection like that with someone."

"Would you..." he felt like an idiot.  "Do you think you would want
to be that for me?"

JC looked at him.  AJ thought that he was going to say no, should
say no.  He hadn't given JC much to base a decision on, and it
wasn't like this was something the other man had ever planned on
doing with his life, like he'd aspired to be an emotional liferaft
for another person.

"Yeah.  I would.  Do that.  For you."

He tipped his head back against the couch.  Felt JC's hand in his,
and rubbed his thumb across the back of it.  "I don't want to need
you."

"I know.  I can tell.  But you do."

"Yeah.  I do."