"Hannah? Wake up sweetie, we're almost there," Lance stroked the side of her face gently with his hand as she stirred slowly.

"Mmm, hey you," Hannah smiled widely at the man driving as she stretched her arms. "Where are we?"

"Almost there. We just drove through Lexington. And I think this is it," Lance checked the address on the mailbox with the one scrawled on his piece of paper. Carefully he turned his car onto the winding, tree lined driveway and arrived at a large, slightly rundown brick structure.

"Wow. This is your aunt's house? It's amazing," Hannah said in awe. Lance put the car into park and hopped out. He looked the old house over, and thought he saw something white in an attic window, but dissmissed it to his eyes playing tricks on him.

"Hello! Welcome back Jamie- er, I mean Lance," a 50 something year old woman came out of the house towards the car.

"Aunt Faye! Hi how are you?" Lance grabbed his aunt in a tight hug.

"Put me down boy! I'm fine. Well now. Who is this?," Faye smiled at Hannah.

"This is Hannah Durhum, my fiancee. Hannah, this is my favorite aunt, Faye Bass," Lance introduced the two ladies.

"Helo, Hannah. It's nice to meet you. Welcome to my home, and yours while you are staying," Faye extended her welcome.

"Thanks, your house is beautiful," Hannah stated as they stepped inside.

"It's been in the Bass family for over 150 years. Originally buit by Captian James Bass after the Civil War. Many generations of ourfamily have come in and out of this house. Including this one," Faye swatted Lance on the arm.

"Where's Andrew?" Lance asked as they sat in the living room. He picked up a photo album and leafed through it.

"He went to Chicago on business, he should be back in a week or so," Faye said, sinking into and antique chair.

"Your husband?" Hannah asked, and Faye shook her head with a laugh.

"No, no. Andrew is my brother. I never married," faye went into the kitchen to get them some drinks.

"I'll tell you Hannah, I would had married if I had met a man like Lance," Faye smiled as she returned with a tray containing a pitcher of lemonaide and some cookies. Lance blushed as Hannah leaned her head on his shoulder and played with his hand in his lap.

"Faye, who was that?," Lance pointed to a young man in the picture who was the spitting image of Lance.

"James Lance Bass. You were named after him. He lived here from 1885 to 1906. He was your great grandfather's brother," Faye rattled off.

"Cool. What happened to him?," Lance asked as Hannah looked at the picture.

"He died when he was 21. He had tuberculosis and died of it. It was very sad, he and his girlfriend both died of it. But of course, all the people in town said it was for the best. There were rumors the two of them had their hands in witchcraft," Faye remembered. Hannah yawned, then Lance. The old clock in the hall struck 11 pm.

"Well, why don't I how you to your room, you've had a long day driving here," Faye led the tired couple up the stairs.

"This is my room, Andrew's room, Andrew's office, my sewing room," Faye showed then each room as they passed it. "And here's Rose Room, where you'll be staying. It was also James's room. The bathroom is right across the hall. Goodnight," Faye opened the door to a spacious room them left them alone.

Hannah and Lance dropped their bags on the bed and looked around the old room. It contained a large bed covered in an old quilt. A glass covered shelf stood in a corner displaying all sorts of eclectic objects. There was an overstuffed easy chair and a large wooden rocking chair. Lance picked up a book that was sitting on the large oak desk.

"Hmm, this looks interesting," Lance mumbled as he sat on the bed next to Hannah.

"The Rose Room. Look, Hannah, its everyone whose lived int his room," Lance flipped through the old book. The faces of an elderly man, a young girl, a newly wed couple and a young man jumped off the pages at them.

"Captain James Bass, his grandaughter Gracie Bass, Gracie's son Shaun Bass and his wife Nancy, and their second son, James Lance Bass," Hannah read. "They must have liked the name 'James'."

"it's the old family name. My dad and grandpa were both named James," Lance walked across the room to what appeared to be a closet. But when he opened it, steps lead up to an attic. Old boxes of clothing and books blocked the narrow stairway.

"Hannah, look at this. I think it leads to the attic," Lance looked up the stairs. Hannah laid the book down on the bed and joined him near the stairs. Lance moved aside the boxes and crept up the stairs. Hannah grabbed his hand and followed slowly.

"Be careful," Hannah cautioned, the floorboards creaking. Lance stepped gingerly around boxes. He came across a trunk with the intials 'JLB' carved into it. Upon opening the lid, he found a leatherbound book sitting amidst the contents.

"Hannah, what is this?," Lance handed her the book.

"It looks like a diary of some sort," Hannah opened the book and started to read. " 'May 15, 1894. I have recieved this book as a gift from my sister Josie. I am James Lance Bass and I'm nine years old.' I was right, it was a diary," Hannah flipped through the aged pages. " 'June 06, 1902. I met a wonderful girl today. Her name is Laura and she lives on the neighboring farm.' ," Hannah continued. Lance took the book from her hands.

"Wow there's some racy stuff in here. Gives me a few ideas," Lance nuzzled his face against her neck. Hannah grinned, but ignored his playful advances.

"Not tonight baby. I'm too tired," Hannah gave him a quick kiss to calm him. "Read some more."

Lance flipped through the pages once more. " 'December 16, 1905. Laura is sick with tuberculosis. The doctors don't expect her to live past Christmas," Lance read slowly. "I'm so upset, the thought of life without her is unbearable.' ," Lance stopped.

"Oh, how sad," Hannah leaned against Lance, feeling better once he had wrapped his strong arms around her and continued to read.

" 'February 14 1906. Today we buried Laura. I stayed by her side, risking my own health to be with her. She died peacefully. I held her hand, she kissed me, smilled and told me she loved me, then took her final breath. I fear I have caught the disease also, but it's a small price to pay to be with Laura once more.' ," Lance read on. " 'The cough comes in the middle of the night, and I feel like my lungs are being ripped from my chest. No one knows of my ails yet.' " Lance paused for a breath.

" 'April 16, 1906. The doctor has just left my room. I hear Mother and Josie crying outside my door. The fever sometimes makes me delireous. I see Mother or Josie turn into Laura, even though I know she is gone. I see her in my dreams, and long for my life on earth to end so I can start my life in eternity with her.' ," Lance's deep bass voice reverberated in the attic. Hannah sighed.

"He was really in love with her. Do you love me like that?," Hannah tilted her head to see Lance's face.

"Don't be crazy Hannah. You know I do. I'd die a thousand deaths like that for you," Lance hugged Hannah reassuringly. "Come on, let's go to bed," he yawned as they walked together down the stairs.

Late that night, Lance felt a draft in the room. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw a figure standing in a darkened corner of the room.

"Who are you? What are you doing here in my room, in my bed?" the figure asked, then started coughing violently.

"I'm Lance Bass. This is my aunt's house. Who are you?," Lance shivered in the cold, wearing only his boxer short.

The figure stepped forward, and moonlight hit his face. Lance gasped as he saw the mirror image of himself dress in an oldfashioned night shirt.

"I'm James Lance Bass. This is my room. Who is that?" James moved closer to where Hannah was sleeping in the bed.

"Laura. My Laura," he said slowly, touching Hannah's face.

"Stop it, that's not Laura. That's my fiancee Hannah," Lance knocked James's hand from Hannah's face. "Don't touch her."

James narrowed his green eyes at Lance. "Don't tell me I don't even know who my own girlfriend is. I may be sick but I'm not, stupid," James started to cough again. He held a handkerchief to his mouth as he cough. It was spattered with blood as he tried to talk.

"You have to help me, help me get rid of the coughing disease. Please help me," James looked pityfully at Lance. "Please, switch places with me so I can be well. We can switch back as soon as I get some medicine," James's shoulders shook as he choked.

Lance thought this was a fair deal, he at least owed it to the man he was named after. Lance removed his boxers and gave them to James, then pulled the nightshirt over his head. Lance started to cough as James had. James began laugh evily.

"Guess what, Lance? Today's the anniversery of my death. I died at 2:09 94 years ago today. Now, it's your turn," James glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed as the numbers glowed 2:07 in the dark. Then he looked at Hannah's sleeping body, and grinned.

"I think I'm gonna like this life," James said to Lance with a smirk as Lance continued to cough violently. Globs of blood fell onto his nightshirt, staining it crimson.

"Han-Hannah. Hannah," Lance cried weakly as he choked on his own blood.

"It's too late Lance. She's mine now," James sipped under the sheets and threw Lance's boxers on the floor. Lance could only cough continually.

"Hannah," Lance whispered as he helplessly coughed.

James laughed as he watched Lance begin to die. Hannah stirred in her sleep, and thought she heard Lance laughing. She opened her eyes slowly.

"Lance, what are you laughing at?," Hannah asked sleepily, unable to hear or see the real Lance dying on the floor by her bed.

"Oh, nothing dear," James replied, looking at Lance gasping for air on the floor, then snuggled down in the covers beside Hannah.