~*~

"Mr. Littrell?"

Brian had fallen asleep in the red velvet chair in the waiting room after Howie had left the hospital and he seemed to have waited forever before a doctor had come to talk about Nick and Kevin's condition. Finally, he couldn't stay awake any longer and quickly succumbed to fatigue and as soon as he closed his heavy eyes, he quickly fell into a deep slumber, resting his head in his hand against the chair. So many things were running through his mind while he was waiting, and he was frantic. Being alone made him scared, and he wished a few million times that Howie hadn't have left.

Though he was in the safety of the hospital waiting room, he was still scared.

He kept on looking over his shoulder, and because he was alone in the waiting room, it only added to his paranoia. He was afraid that someone in black would run through, pull out a gun, take a quick shot and make a run for it. He prayed to God that Nick and Kevin were going to make it, and that, wherever he was, A.J. was okay and not in any sort of pain. God, the things he could've done to stop all this.

He should've known something was wrong with A.J. the day he went missing from the scared and horror-filled statement on his face.

He should've known.

Brian woke up quickly and opened his eyes to see a doctor standing before him in a long white coat, an impassive look on his face, and a silver stethoscope slung around his neck. Brian quickly stood up and shook the doctor's outstretched hand. "Yes, I'm Brian Littrell."

The doctor nodded. "I'm Dr Porter, I've been administering Mr Carter and Mr Richardson's case."

Brian felt his heart stop. "How are they?"

"They're both fighters, I'll give them that much," Dr Porter said, motioning for Brian to sit down and he took a seat next to Brian. "Mr Carter has suffered some abdominal injuries, most likely from some heavy battery and a sprained wrist. He has substantial bruising around his wrists, biceps and legs, but luckily nothing on him is broken or damaged."

Brian nodded, thanking the good Lord above. "And Kevin?"

Dr Porter paused, choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Richardson was beaten more severely, I'm afraid. Now, don't be alarmed but there was some slight bleeding on the brain from severe head battery - "

Brian gasped. "A cerebral hemorrhage?"

Dr Porter nodded. "But fortunately for him we've managed to sustain the bleeding. Now, he also has serious bruising around the ribs. At first we thought he might have had a few broken ribs or a punctured lung, but fortunately that was not the case."

Brian closed his eyes and felt his heart beating once more. His friends were going to live. Live. And that was exactly what he had expected because, just like the doctor had said, they were both fighters and they would pull through. They were tough, they all were and they weren't going to let something like this make them small and inferior, stricken with fear and horror.

No way would this rattle them. No way would whoever had done this make them frightened for their lives from a few notes. They would fight back, that's exactly what they would do. As soon as Nick and Kevin recovered and were out of hospital, they would all fight back, forming a tough and strong formidable group. And they would succeed. They would find A.J., foil whoever was doing this, and get back to normal once more.

It was certainly nice to dream.

"When can I see them?" Brian asked.

"Soon," Dr Porter answered. "They're in ICU at the moment but they should be both put in recovery in the next twenty-fours hours, should their conditions remain stable. Their bodily readings are fine, their heartbeat is normal, their pulse is average, so I wouldn't expect anything to change within that amount of time. But when we've moved them into recovery, you can see them. They're both heavily under morphine, so you wouldn't want to see them at this point in time."

Brian sighed. He felt so responsible. He could've done something. Returned earlier, not have gone out at all, something. Something that could've prevented Nick and Kevin from being beaten the way they were. Something. Anything. He felt a tear pooling in the corner of his eye. "I really don't understand how all this happened..."

Dr Porter frowned. "Well, I haven't had too much experience in this since I'm not a detective, but I've come to a few conclusions." He paused. "Mr Carter and Mr. Richardson are both tall, strong men. Keep that in mind. So, whoever had done this couldn't have been alone. It would most certainly take more than one man to fight both of these men. Either that or they were threatened with something or someone dear to them - "

"A.J.," Brian whispered.

"Or simply held at gunpoint," Dr Porter concluded. Then he let out a small laugh. "But what do I know? I'm no cop, after all." The merriment died on his face and stared directly into Brian's scared blue eyes. "Just giving you something to help you. Good luck working this all out, and I'll keep you apprised on Mr. Carter and Mr. Richardson's condition."

Brian watched the doctor stroll out of the waiting room, his long white coat gently billowing against his legs as he walked. Brian continued to watch him, almost in a trance, until the doctor disappeared out of his line of sight. He snapped out of his reverie and sat down, sighing despondently. The doctor certainly had given him something to think about. Did this mean that whoever had done this was more than one? Acting in a group? Like a South-East Asian gang or drug ring? What did they want from them exactly? Money? If so, between the five of them, they had plenty to give. But Brian didn't think it had anything to do with money. That was too cliché, and whoever was doing this seemed to be seasoned. It had to be something more intrinsic, something more demanding and clever than money. But it certainly wouldn’t surprise him if they did want money, for they weren't exactly destitute. They had more money individually than several sandy middle-eastern countries had combined.

Brian stared at the clock on the wall directly in front of him. 3:42 A.M. He'd been asleep for just over two hours, and now it didn't seem enough. His eyes stared becoming heavy again, and he yawned deeply, covering his mouth with his palm as he did. He stretched out his legs and placed his arms behind his head to offer himself some kind of support pillow. He felt like falling asleep and never waking up again. Or falling asleep and finding out this was just one, big terrible nightmare. Brian waited for himself to wake up, for the shrill of the alarm to disturb him, but no. It never did. Because this wasn't a dream, but a terrible reality. A.J. was kidnapped and Nick and Kevin were an inch from their lives in ICU. This was no dream. Well, no dream that he ever wanted to have in his lifetime.

He wondered what they had done to make someone, or someone's, do this to them. What had they done but simply exist? Who could've done this? Who had the heart to beat two innocent men and hold another innocent man for ransom? Why would anyone want to do this to them? Their track record was blameless, almost perfect, and they had no enemies except for a few bitter critics who were singing their shoulda-coulda-woulda's and taking it out on them for their failed attempts at fame. But they had done nothing to no one to make someone do this to them. So maybe all it could be was a crazy fan taking their psychotic tendencies out on them. For some reason.

Snapping him out of his trail of thought was the high-pitched shrill of his cell. He fished it out of his pocket. "Talk."

It was Howie, sobbing uncontrollably, in complete hysteria. "Brian!" he cried, sniffing dramatically. "T-t-there's another one! Another n-n-n..."

Brian sat up straighter instantly. "Howie, Howie, calm down," he coaxed gently. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Howie sniffed loudly again. "Another note, Brian!" he exclaimed. "They're going to kill him, Brian! A.J.'s going to die!"

"No he's not, Howie," Brian reassured him quietly, though he wasn't really sure of himself. "A.J.'s going to be all right. You told me that earlier. Remember? He's going to be all right, and Nick and Kevin are going to be fine. They're going to be fine, D. We're all going to be fine!"

"Yeah, yes of course," Howie sobbed softly. "Look, can you come back here now?"

"Okay, I'll come back. I'll be there soon," Brian promised. "And Howie?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop crying."

Brian stood up and walked quickly out of the waiting room and down the hall, the same extremely-cleansed and antiseptic odor touching his sense of smell. The hospital itself was very quiet and devoid of activity. He didn't pass anyone as he walked down the hospital hall, the fluorescent lights beaming its yellow gleam down onto him. He rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes, feeling the need to pass out from fatigue and walked out the hospital doors. The brisk, cold wind greeted him harshly and immediately and he wrapped his jacket around himself to protect his body from the icy breeze. He looked up and saw millions of twinkling little stars in the velvet black sky and the silver moon. He stood on the side of the road and saw the bright yellow lights of a cab approaching him and soon came to a stop beside him on the slick road.

Brian jumped in and was soon speeding in the direction of the hotel. He sat back against the leather of the seat and tried to relax. But he couldn't. His mind kept reliving the nightmare of him walking into the hotel room and finding Nick and Kevin bound to a chair with cheap, worn rope and beaten to a bloody pulp. He opened his eyes and forced himself not to think about it, to think about nice things. Like, Nick and Kevin coming out of the hospital and making a quick recovery, and finding A.J. and all coming together as one strong group, the way it normally was.

But whoever did this certainly didn't want to keep the status-quo.

The cab came to a stop outside the hotel and Brian jumped out, staring up at the tall building in front of him. The bright lights from the lobby shone out onto the street and a few men in front walked past in red and gold suits, running errands to keep the hotel in order. Brian took a step onto the concrete entrance and began to walk inside, through the revolving doors. He kept his eyes lowered as he walked quickly to the nearest elevator, not wanting to make contact with anyone, just adamant on returning to their room.

He pressed the button with his palm and waited impatiently for the doors to open. He tapped his foot, staring at the doors, sighing and waiting. He didn't want to think, because he knew exactly what he would think about, and he wasn't going to let it get the best of him. He was going to stay strong and fight, not be weak and collapse.

Finally, the doors opened and Brian was soon on his way up. He caught his reflection in the mirrored walls. Sunken, tired blue eyes that had lost their crystal spark. Pale complexion. Tire and fatigue ultimately drawing him. He shrugged, thinking he could use a very sugary coffee. After what seemed like only a minute, the doors opened once more and he rushed down the hall to their room.

He knocked on the door. "Howie! Howie, let me in!"

The door opened quickly and Howie appeared, his eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. He pulled Brian inside and slammed the door close, locking it securely behind him. He thrust a piece of white paper to Brian. "Read this," he whispered, wiping a tear away.

Brian hesitantly took hold of the note and began to read. His eyes turned from trepidation, to anger, to fear, and then finally to horror. "What the...? Where did you get this? When? How? Who?"

Howie scowled. "If I had a few clues, I'd have done something about it already, idiot!"

"Well, why haven't you?!" Brian yelled back, his eyes freezing over with anger. "Well, why?"

Howie shoved Brian away. "Don't test me," he warned in a low voice. "I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours and I'm this close to losing it, so don't fucking test me!"

Brian sighed and walked over to the black leather couch. He placed his head in his hands and began to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just so...so angry! I'm so afraid that we're not going to do enough in time to save A.J."

Howie sat down next to him and patted his shoulder soothingly. "It's okay, we're both antagonized at the moment." He paused and lowered his head sheepishly. "Sorry for yelling at you."

Brian gave him a tiny smile. "No problem."

The high-pitched shrill of the phone interrupted them, and they both jumped unexpectedly. Howie placed a hand over his heart. "Jesus Christ."

"Do you think...?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Do you want me to...?"

Howie stood up and picked up the phone. Brian watched him intently as he talked in a soft voice for a few quick moments and placed it down on its cradle once more. Brian frowned when Howie reached for his jacket. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"It was Belsky," Howie said, slipping into his jacket. "They've had an anonymous call. They want me there as soon as."

Brian nodded and stood up. He then took Howie in his arms. "Be careful," he whispered.

Howie squeezed his eyes shut to stop more tears and returned the embrace. "I will." He stared into Brian's eyes. "Lock the door as soon as I leave, okay?"

Brian nodded again and silently watched Howie walk out the door and ran over to it to lock it securely again. He leaned against the door and stared around at the quiet room he was in. Sometimes silence was the loudest and most destructive sound of all. He began to realise that now. He bit down on his lower lip and walked over to the couch and laid down, closing his eyes.

Sleep seemed like a really good thing right now.

~**~