Wednesday, February 21, 2001: Philadelphia, PA

"We should have been there," Chris said. He glared at the small TV screen set up against the far wall of the hotel room. "This was our year, guys."

"We’re on tour," Lance said. "We can’t just drop everything to go to the Grammy’s. Do you know how exhausted we’d be flying from here to LA and then back this way to New York? We would have died."

"It’s the Grammy's," Chris said. He huffed and crossed his arms. "How often can we say that we were one of the nominees at the Grammy’s?"

"We can say that we were nominated, though," Joey said. He ran his fingers through his hair. "So what that we aren’t there? We aren’t going to win, anyway. This way we’ll be saved all of the empty condolence speeches."

"But we could be there," Chris said. He gestured at the TV and snapped his hand back to the crossed position on his chest. "And what if we do win? We get to hear them say, ‘oh, yeah. ‘N SYNC couldn’t be here because they’re trying to convince their fifth member to come home.’ Yeah, they deserve to have Record Of The Year."

"We’re up against Steely Dan," JC said. He shifted his position on the hotel room bed. "And U2. And Madonna. We aren’t going to win." He turned his attention back to the TV screen and nodded his head in an upward motion. "Look, there’s Brit."

"She gets to go to the Grammy’s and she’s only nominated once, but we’re nominated three times and we don’t," Chris said. "Life sucks sometimes."

"She’s performing," JC said. "She has to be there."

"They could have asked us to perform," Chris said. His voice was getting higher as he spoke. "It’s not like we haven’t been doing our whole show with only four members for the last month."

"Stop bitching," Lance said tiredly. He glared at Chris. "Either we’ll have to deal with Justin in a little under two weeks or we won’t. Bitching, now, when there’s nothing we can do, certainly isn’t going to help anything."

"Eleven days, guys," Joey said. "That’s it. Then this hell I like to call ‘being the lead singer’ is over." He grinned widely, and for a moment the tension in the room was broken.

Justin shut the screen of his laptop and pushed himself backwards, tilting his chair onto the back two legs. He flexed the fingers on his injured hand.

"Why haven’t you guys answered?" Justin asked the empty room. "It’s either yes or no, right?"

He looked at the closed piece of electronic equipment for a few moments longer before standing up and walking out of the room.

Justin could hear the muted sounds of the TV in the den from where he sat at the dining room table. He flipped the page of his book and rested the weight of his head heavily on the palm of his good hand. He heard the sound of muffled clapping and people talking, and finally he couldn’t sit in the dining room all by himself any longer.

He left the textbook open on the table and walked down the hall to the den. He peered into the room and saw Maggie and Cathy sitting in front of the TV.

"Hey," he said. "What’re you guys watching?"

"The Grammy’s," Maggie said as she looked up at him with a smile.

"Oh," Justin said. He moved into the room and leaned up against the wall. As he stared at the screen he saw a limousine pull up at the end of the red carpet. He blinked, and by the time he’d opened his eyes again, the door of the vehicle had opened and Britney was stepping out.

His heart stopped in his chest for a brief instant as he saw her smile at the camera.

"You should come sit down if you’re going to watch," Maggie said. She patted the spot beside her on the couch.

Justin swallowed and smiled at Maggie. "I should really do my reading." He looked back at the screen and his smile faded as he saw Britney walking, by herself, down the red carpet.

"Come watch for a little while," Maggie said. "You can do your reading later."

Justin moved over to the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen. He sat down, completely lost in his own world until he felt Maggie’s cheek come to rest on his shoulder. He leaned his head over so that his cheek rested on the top of her head.

"You know," JC said. "I think it’s harder being here waiting for our names to not be called than it is being there."

"We wouldn’t know, would we," Chris said. "Since we’ve never been nominated and been there before."

"Stop it," Lance said. "Just fucking stop it, Chris. We. Aren’t. There. We won’t be there this year. Next year will be different."

"Who’s to say that there will be a next year," Chris said. "He hasn’t emailed us back, guys. Maybe he just doesn’t want to tell us it’s over."

"No news is good news," Joey said. "If he didn’t want to come back he would have told us that he wasn’t going to come back."

"Do you want me to send him a reminder?" JC asked. "I’ll be happy to do that for you, Chris, if you want me to."

"Yes," Chris said. "I would like you to send him a reminder. I want confirmation that we aren’t missing out on what could have been one of the best nights of our lives for nothing."

"I’ll go get my laptop right now," JC said.

"No, C," Lance said. "Use mine. It’s on and it’ll get you to shut Chris up that much faster." He grabbed the laptop from the nightstand and shoved it at JC.

JC flipped open the top and waited as the screen came back to life. He launched the Internet and typed in the web address of his mail program. A few clicks of the keys later he was logged into the program. There was a click of the mouse button, and then a "Guys?"

"What?" Joey asked, not looking away from the TV screen.

Lance shifted his gaze to JC and, seeing his friend's look of concern, leaned over to look at the computer screen.

"Oh god," Lance said.

"What?" Chris asked. "Did he email and say he wasn’t coming back?"

"Not exactly," JC said. With visible effort he moved his eyes away from the screen.

"He emailed?" Joey asked. He shifted on the couch so that he was staring at JC and Lance.

"Yeah," Lance said when JC didn’t say anything.

"He wants another day," JC said, a moment later. He slammed the screen of the laptop closed. "Fuck him."

"He what?" Chris asked. He stood up from his place on the other bed and grabbed the computer off of JC’s lap, opening it quickly and reading the message.

"No," JC said. He stood up from the bed. "No. We said that was it. Didn’t we? Didn’t we say that was it? He had until the fourth and no more."

"It’s only one more day," Lance said.

"And then what?" Chris asked, setting the computer down on the night stand. "Another day? Another week? JC’s right. No."

"We can’t give in on this one, guys," JC said. "Twenty-four hours may not be a big deal, but it’s the principle behind the whole thing. We gave him a deadline and he can’t push it."

"He needs to get his priorities straight," Chris said. "The only way we’re going to survive is if he’s into this 150-percent when he comes back. No needing one day more."

"We’re going to need to be in this 150-percent when he gets back, too," Joey said. "We’re all going to need to work doubly hard to make sure that ‘N SYNC is back up and running."

"We’re working hard," Chris said. "What have we been doing? Goofing off? Trying to make sure that Justin Timberlake’s career isn’t screwed over when he comes back?"

"That’s not--" Joey said.

"I don’t care what you meant," Chris said. "No." He pointed at JC. "You’d better tell him no, because if you don’t this group is going to have a hell of a lot more problems."

"It’s definitely no," JC said. "Whatever he views to be more important isn’t. It can’t be."

"Guys," Lance said.

"It isn’t," Chris said. "We’ve put our entire lives into this thing. Nothing can be more important."

"Guys," Lance said. "We’re up."
--

"Do you even know how much I would cry if ‘N SYNC won a Grammy," Maggie asked. "It’s like they’d have to be considered real musicians, or something."

Justin didn’t say anything. His eyes were focused on the screen.

"And now," TV Nick Lachey said. "The nominees for Pop Vocal Performance of the Year."

The screen faded to black and then into a fog-covered street where the silhouetted Backstreet Boys walked out into the light.

"’Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely,’ by the Backstreet Boys," TV Jessica Simpson said.

The screen faded into a scene from Steely Dan’s ‘Cousin Dupree’ video.

"’Cousin Dupree,’ by Steely Dan," TV Nick said.

The screened faded again into bright blocks of colors.

"’Pinch Me,’" TV Jessica said, "by the Bare Naked Ladies."

The screen faded for a fourth time into a scene Justin knew all too well. He had been wearing that red shirt. His knees had hurt for days after the video shoot from all of the jumping up and down that he had done.

"Bye, Bye, Bye," TV Nick said, "by ‘N SYNC."

Justin swallowed heavily as the screen faded again into another brightly colored video and accented voices came through the speakers.

"Breathless," TV Jessica said, "by the Corrs."

The screen faded to black again, and then back to a shot filled by Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson’s heads. TV Nick handed TV Jessica the envelope and Justin watched as she tore open the sticker.

She smiled when she saw the name written on the card inside the envelope.

"And the winner is," she started. She showed the card to TV Nick.

"’Bye, Bye, Bye,’ by ‘N SYNC," TV Nick said into the microphone.

Maggie sat straight up on the couch and gave a small shriek. "Oh my god," she said. "We won."

Justin felt his heart stop in his chest. He saw TV Jessica lean towards the microphone.

"Unfortunately, ‘N SYNC couldn’t be here tonight as they are in the middle of their ‘We Want You Back’ tour. We gladly accept this award in their absence."

TV Nick leaned into the microphone. "You’re in our thoughts, guys. Congratulations."

Justin swallowed again and got up off the couch. He walked out of the room without a backwards glance.

"Fuck him," Chris said. He kicked the bed, with JC and Lance on top of it, moving the mattress six inches from the force. There were tears in his eyes when he looked at the rest of the guys. "We won a fucking Grammy and he is the only reason we aren’t there to accept it."

The other three men stared at Chris.

"I can’t do this anymore," Chris said. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his limbs limp. "I’m old, guys. I--" He swallowed convulsively. "If he’s not back on the fourth, I’m out. No more. Good bye."

JC leaned over Lance and grabbed the laptop off the nightstand. He pulled it onto his lap and clicked reply.

March 4th, Justin. That’s it. If you’re not back by the time the clock strikes midnight… It’s over.

Justin stared at his Calculus textbook. The words on the page were blurred in front of his eyes, the colors of the diagrams blending together.

"Grammy award-winning," he whispered. Shutting the book, he stood up and moved to the staircase. He took the steps upward slowly.

Justin looked up when he heard the soft knock on his door.

"Randy?" Cathy’s voice came through the door. "Stu’s on the phone for you."

"Okay," Justin stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, Cathy handed him the portable phone and turned away.

"Hey," Justin said.

"Hey," Stu said. "I just wanted to call and, well, give you my congratulations."

Justin swallowed. "Thanks," he said. "I. Yeah."

"That’s quite an accomplishment," Stu said. "My little sister was screaming."

"So was Maggie," Justin said. "The guys weren’t even there."

"I know," Stu said. "At least you guys only won one. More than that and it would have been embarrassing."

"Who won the others?" Justin asked.

"Steely Dan," Stu said. "Who from our generation has even heard of them?"

"I had," Justin said.

"You’re just weird like that," Stu said laughing.

"I almost wish I’d been there," Justin said. He blinked, closing his eyes for a long moment.

"Yeah?" Stu asked.

"I have ten days, Stu," Justin said. "Eleven if I’m lucky."

"I know," Stu said. "And then--"

"And then no more Randy Smith," Justin said. "Not ever again."

Thursday, February 22, 2001

Justin scratched an itch under the ace bandage around his wrist. He moved the soft fabric back to its original place before raising his good hand to knock on Maggie’s door.

Justin turned the knob on the door and pushed the door open when he heard her acknowledgement. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Hey," he said.

"What’s up?" Maggie asked. She tilted her desk chair backwards as she looked at him.

"Do you want to go for a walk and get some pie?" Justin asked.

Maggie looked at the book on the desk in front of her. "I need to do some studying. I have a test on this tomorrow."

"I need to talk to you," Justin said. "Can we just go for the walk?"

"It’s that important?" Maggie asked.

Justin nodded.

Maggie sighed and stood up. "Let’s go then."

"You had something to tell me?" Maggie asked as they walked over the crunchy grass of the park in the middle of the town.

Justin drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah." He tugged on her hand and pulled her over to one of the benches by the sandbox.

"Is everything okay?" Maggie asked.

"No," Justin said softly. "Maggie, I’m going to have to leave."

"That’s what you’ve been saying," Maggie said.

"I’m going to have to leave soon," Justin said. "In under two weeks."

"What?" Maggie asked. She stood up from the bench in a convulsive movement and turned to face Justin. "What?"

"I’m sorry," Justin said.

"Why?" Maggie asked. "Why so soon? Why not wait until the end of the year? That’s only going to be another two months."

"I have to, Mags," Justin said. "I don’t have a choice."

"Why," Maggie said again. "Two weeks?"

"Less," Justin said. "A week and a half."

"No," Maggie said. "No. You have a choice. You don’t have to go back."

"I do," Justin said. "God, Maggie. I do. I can’t put it off any longer. I’ve already been gone too long. Far, far too long."

Maggie pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it lightly. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts.

"You said you wanted warning," Justin said. "I’m giving you warning, because the last thing I want to do is disappear on you in the middle of the night."

"A week and a half?" Maggie asked. "That’s, what? Ten, eleven days?"

"Ten," Justin said. "I leave on the fifth."

"That’s too soon," Maggie said. She sat back down on the bench next to Justin, but a few inches farther away. "What does this mean for us?"

"I told you," Justin said. "I’m not going to willingly let anything happen to us."

"Where are you going to be going?" Maggie asked. "You owe me that, at least."

"No," Justin said. He swallowed. "I don’t know."

"I’m not going to accept that answer, Randy," Maggie said. "I deserve to know where you’re going."

"I’m going to be moving around, okay?" Justin asked, his voice sharp. "The longest I’ve ever stayed anyplace in the last six years has been the time I’ve spent here."

"Why?" Maggie asked.

"I can’t tell you," Justin said. He stood up and moved a few feet away from the bench. "You have to trust me on this one. You really don’t want to know."

"I deserve it, Randy," Maggie said.

"It’ll change the way you look at me," Justin said as he turned around. "I can’t take that."

"You say I’m supposed to trust you, yet you tell me it’s going to change the way I look at you?" Maggie asked as she stood up. "That’s giving me a hell of a lot of confidence in our relationship."

"It’s nothing bad," Justin said. He didn’t make a move to cover the few feet of space between them. "It just makes me different."

"You are different," Maggie said. "And I love that you’re different from everyone else in this town." She paused for a moment. "Is that it? Do you think I won’t love you anymore if you tell me whatever it is?"

Justin shrugged and looked at the dirt beneath his tennis shoes.

"I love you, Randy Smith," Maggie said. "Whoever you are, where ever you came from, I. Love. You. Nothing’s going to change that."

Justin tried to smile. "I wish I could believe that."

"You’re asking me to believe in you, so you’re going to have to believe in me," Maggie said. "I don’t take love lightly."

"I know," Justin said. He blinked. "Our relationship will be up to you, okay? When I leave, you'll have to be the one to decide whether we make a go of it or not."

"That’s a stupid thing to say, Randy," Maggie said. "Didn’t I just get through saying that I don’t take love lightly and that I’ll always love you?"

"You say that now," Justin said. "But sometimes love isn’t enough."
--

Justin flexed his wrist and smiled when the pain was merely a dull throb. He unwound the ACE bandage and let the tan gauze drip to the ground. Slowly, as he walked over to his desk and the computer sitting on it, he rolled the bandage up into a tight roll.

He sat down at the computer and turned it on. A few minutes later he was sitting in front of his inbox. With a deep breath he opened the one new message. He felt the air in his lungs freeze when he saw JC’s email address in the ‘From:’ area. The air escaped his lungs when he finished reading the message.

"Fuck," he said. "No, guys, please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me choose."

He swallowed and rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, fisting his hands and letting his knuckles dig into his eye sockets.

"Don’t make me choose," he said again.