Author's Note~Hola, and welcome to my alternate reality J . Before we get started, I suppose there are a few things that must be said. I do not own 'N Sync or any other 'real' people in my stories (more's the pity *sigh* *L*). They belong to their respective owners, who are, I would hope, themselves. I do, however, own all other characters: Abby, Sunny, Claire, Cecile, Max, etc. Please do not steal them or my ideas *cough* plagiarism*cough*. My skewed little mind has a hard enough time creating them. Do not add to my stress by forcing me to come find you and regulate. Thank you *L*. Enjoy. I'll be updating as I get the time to write. And please, send feedback! I love feedback *L*…

She stared blankly out the window that was sitting in front of her, feeling the warmth of the New York early spring sunshine against her face. The lightweight of the sunglasses she wore was barely noticeable until she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She shifted restlessly in her chair, tuning in suddenly to the world around her when a loud clamor entered the hotel lobby. She kept her face carefully neutral as she tilted her head, listening with mild puzzlement as sharp cries and rapid speech blended unintelligibly. She suppressed the fruitless frustration and instead turned her face back to the window, aware of when the clamor finally dwindled, the movement of many bodies, which she discerned to be female from the lightness of their steps and the smell of blending perfumes, dispersing. She felt a small spurt of relief and shifted tiredly again. Silently, she begged the small phone in the backpack at her feet to ring. And bring her good news. The worry she had thus far kept successfully at bay nibbled at her, but she pushed it away, fists clenching against the helplessness. She settled back to do what she did best. Wait.

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Justin groaned silently, shaking his head at the crowd of young females as they milled around on the floor below the elevator, which was equipped with a one-way mirror. Thankfully, he and his groupmates were not on the reflective side.

"Do you think they ever get tired of just waiting for us?" JC asked curiously, eyebrows raised with disbelief at the mass of female flesh gradually dispersing below them.

"They're chicks," Chris shrugged, tugging on Busta's ears as the pug panted in his arms. "Who knows what goes on in the female mind? I grew up with them, and I still don't understand."

Everyone looked at Joe. He raised his hands defensively, grinning. "Hey, don't look at me. I just like them. I don't pretend to understand them."

Lance's deep chuckle drew their attention. "If you knew, would they be half so interesting?" he mused.

The other members of 'N Sync grimaced slightly. "The albino has a point. But, they wouldn't be quite so confusing either," Chris grumbled. "After 27 years of dealing with them, I'd like to have a clue, thank you."

JC shook his head. "We could ponder the mysteries of women all night," he injected dryly. "But, myself, I'm going to shower, change, and then come back down to mingle since they've obviously waited quite awhile. It's the least we can do."

Lance nodded, shoving a hand through his spiky hair. "Yeah, we actually get a break before sound check. We can do some greets before we go grab something?" There were four nods of approval as the elevator slid to a halt, and they all spilled out onto the quiet floor, their bodyguards following them silently to their rooms.

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Her eyes flickered open behind the shield of her sunglasses as the sudden noise from the lobby roused her. Her eyes narrowed briefly in irritation as someone bumped her chair from behind, the sound of feet moving energetically across the floor an annoyance to her stretched nerves. She rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly, doing her best to tune the noise out. Then she jerked to attention as the phone in the bag next to her foot rang, vibrating against her foot. Her heart jumped with fragile hope as she reached for the bag, searching by feel until her hand closed around the device. She flipped it open; her voice tight with suppressed emotion as she answered.

"Hello? Max? How is she?"

"I'm sorry, Abs," Max told her softly, voice full of sympathy. Behind her glasses, her eyes closed tightly, a burning lump filling her throat.

"Nothing? They can't--they can't do anything?" she whispered, voice harsh and strangled.

"No, sweetie. The cancer's too far advanced. Anything they do would only prolong her pain. You have two choices now," Max told her gently, sympathetic.

Hot tears welled in her eyes; her lungs on fire with each breath she struggled to draw in. "What?" Depression threatened, and she willingly turned towards it. Blindly. Needing the darkness to smother the horrible helplessness.

"They can put her down now."

Her eyes flew open. "NO!" her voice cracked across the line like a whip. She wouldn't kill her best friend. From a distance. The cowardly way out.

"Or they can give her something for the pain. She won't feel anything, but she won't last long. I'm so sorry, Abs."

The knot swelled, choking off her air. "Bring her to me. I want her to know I'm still here," she rasped.

"Alright, sweetie. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"I'm right here." She cut off the connection. Grief swamped her in unmitigated waves. She couldn't move, feeling as if a part of her had been ripped away. This had been her last hope, and it had failed. She was going to be alone. Again. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, a sob escaping her before her chest tightened unbearably. Then she didn't make a sound. The tears coursed like trails of burning rain down her cheeks, but the crippling pain wouldn't let her move.

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"Thanks, sweetheart," Lance smiled at the shy teenager as she handed him the beanie baby E.T., shaking his head bemusedly. "I don't think I've ever seen one of these." That sparked a brilliant smile. "You're welcome." She looked behind her. "That's my friend. I have to go. It was nice meeting you, and I'm really looking forward to your show."

He grinned, waving as she departed. He shook his head at the bodyguard waiting patiently and walked past Chris towards the water fountain, making a relieved face. "Calm one, thank god." Chris snorted and nodded towards Justin. Lance raised an eyebrow as he saw a half dozen teenagers practically falling over his younger friend.

Chris grimaced. "I'm going to go rescue him." Lance nodded, then detoured around a tall, potted plant, looking for the water fountain he'd seen. He was sure it was around here somewhere.

He jumped as a feminine voice spoke sharply to his left. "NO!" He glanced over curiously, but that was the extent of the sound. Whoever it was hidden in a wingback chair facing the wide window. He shrugged; deciding it was none of his business and turned to continue his search when another sound made him pause. A soft throttled sob. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he groaned inwardly. No other sounds drifted to him, but his conscience wouldn't let him leave. Hesitantly, he approached the chair. The first thing he saw was soft, midnight black hair, pulled up in a loose ponytail. Her head was bent, shoulders hunched and shaking rigidly as she wrapped her arms around herself. A cell phone lay in her lap. No sounds emerged from her, but every line of her posture spoke of terrible grief, and his heart went out to her, whoever she was. He crouched next to her chair, hesitating. She wore a pair of stylish dark sunglasses, behind which her eyes were shut tightly as tears trickled down her thin cheeks, her features pinched and pale as she dealt with her grief. Lance took a deep breath, then gently touched her shoulder, feeling the bones beneath the tailored white shirt she wore. The girl stiffened, and he caught a glimpse of extremely light gray eyes, the irises ringed in black, as they flew open before her head jerked up and the sunglasses shielded his view.

"Miss? Are you all right?" he asked gently. She gasped, breathing erratically before her hands came up to wipe her cheeks quickly, and he watched with startled amazement as her face smoothed into calmness.

"I'm fine," she rasped, voice husked with tears she couldn't quite disguise.

Lance bit his lip, debating on whether he should pursue the issue with a total stranger. But chivalry won out. "Are you sure? You're upset. And mom always told me a woman has a reason for tears," he tried to inject a lighter note into his voice, wincing a little as his southern accent started to creep in.

Her head tilted curiously, and she gave him a distant smile. "Thank you for your concern," she murmured politely, though her voice was strained. "But please don't worry. A moment to indulge in my own private pity party, nothing more."

So, in other words, get lost. Lance thought wryly, shaking his head inwardly at the stubbornness he sensed. Her head had already turned to stare out the window, dismissing him, and he rolled his eyes. Women. Though this one had proved to be surprising, not knowing who he was. He chided himself for the egocentricity of the thought, shifting to stand.

"Hey, Lance. What are you doing?" Chris appeared with Busta in his arms, and the girl's head jerked towards him. Busta barked in greeting, and he heard his odd companion make a small sound, stiffening. Chris gave her a questioning smile.

"Hey, it's just Busta, he won't hurt anybody," he assured her.

They both watched in amazement as the girl's face crumpled, and a sob rent from her. Then another. Lance winced at the painfulness of the sobs, sounding as if they were being torn from deep inside. She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she fought to contain the sounds. Lance looked over at Chris, at a loss as to what to do. Utterly surprised, Chris stared at the girl with his mouth open before shrugging his shoulders. Lance shot him an aggravated look before acting on the impulse to comfort her. Still kneeling, he lifted the sunglasses off her face and gently slid his arms around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

Dimly, Abigail felt the arms of the stranger slide around her, her first instinct being to pull away, and she tensed in preparation to do just that, then heard his soft, gentle low voice hesitantly trying to soothe her. Felt the awkward touch of his hand as he rubbed her back lightly. And she succumbed to the urge to be comforted as the yawning sorrow continued to crash through her. So when he pulled her towards him, she didn't protest. The warmth of him enveloped her, radiating a concerned, calming energy that drew her. She felt his own start of surprise as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her streaming eyes against a broad shoulder, and felt his arms tighten consolingly. She heard the bark of the dog the other stranger held, and her heart wrenched. Her best friend, her only friend, was dying. And there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Okay, so he had her in his arms, bawling her eyes out. What was he supposed to do now? Lance wondered. She didn't appear to be calming down. He looked up at Chris, who hovered beside him with concern, and mouthed the question, hoping for some guidance. She felt so fragile in his arms, the depth of grief he could feel vibrating in her alarming, to say the least. Chris frowned, chewing on his lip.

"Lance? Chris? Where--?" Justin appeared, pausing as he saw Chris. "There you are, where'd Lance..." Justin paused, his eyebrows shooting up as he saw the sobbing form in his friend's arms. Lance shook his head at the questioning look on Justin's face. Chris shrugged his shoulders.

"We don't know either, Curly," Chris told him quietly.

"Hey guys! We ready to go eat?!" Joe bounced into the circle, happily ignorant of the small drama. JC followed at a more leisurely pace. They both stopped surprised, when they found Lance otherwise occupied.

Lance felt the girl stiffen as Joe's voice died on the loud declaration. Her narrow back shuddered as she took a shaky breath, and a spate of chills raced across his neck as she exhaled deeply against his neck. Her shoulders went back, and he felt her hands push insistently against him. He sighed softly, looking down at her tear-streaked face as she backed away. Her eyelids fluttered open, the light gray depths an odd silver color, still glowing with unshed tears, and his spine shivered as she looked directly at him, seemingly almost through him, unshielded by sunglasses. She swallowed audibly.

"Miss--" he began tentatively, not even sure what to say to her.

"Abs? Are you..." The girl's head jerked, and she croaked, "Max?" Lance followed her gaze behind him in confusion, finding a balding, middle-aged man with kindly features standing in the middle of the lobby, glancing around anxiously. Hands shaking, the girl quickly wiped her cheeks.

"I'm here, Max! I'll be right there!" she called, voice husky. She reached down, grabbing the backpack at her feet and slinging it over her shoulder. She hesitated, glancing around nervously at the four other men before turning back to Lance. "I'm sorry for losing control like that," she told him softly, embarrassed. "Please accept my apologies for doing it all over you."

Lance shook his head, confused by the urgency he could sense. "It's okay. As long as you're alright."

Oblivious to his embarrassment, she slipped them on, once again hiding her eyes, then smiled faintly.

"It was nice meeting you. Wish you could say the same."

He and his groupmates watched, puzzled, as she groped beside her chair cushion, withdrawing a slim metal wand as she stood. Her wrist snapped, and he blinked, mouth dropping open as a white-tipped walking stick snicked out to touch the floor. Back straight, the girl swept the cane from side to side, striding carefully, but quickly, away.

Without being aware of it, Lance stood, finally seeing what he hadn't before. A golden Labrador retriever, wearing a stiff-handled harness, rested against the older man's leg as he waited. As the girl approached, the dog gained its feet painfully, tail wagging furiously. The girl dropped down to her knees beside the dog, wrapping her arms around it in an emotional hug before returning to her feet. They all watched silently until the trio disappeared into the elevator.

Lance rocked back on his heels, amazement still holding him in thrall. Chris voiced it for him.

"My God, the girl's blind," he breathed, stunned.

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Abby stroked Sunny's coat gently, crooning softly to her as she whined, then yelped as Max administered an injection for pain.

"I'm sorry, Abs," he told her softly, again.

"It's not your fault, Max. You've done nothing but help," Abby told him softly. The pain was buried deeply inside her. She'd allowed herself one outburst, one that had proved incredibly embarrassing. Now she was just tired.

Max touched her shoulder gently, and she allowed the touch when she normally would have pulled away. It was a day for firsts, she thought dryly. "Abs, do you want me to stay with you?"

She looked up at the place where his voice was coming from, into the familiar blackness. "No. You have a family to go home to, Max. You went above and beyond the call of duty already. Go home to your family, Max."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Max asked worriedly.

Abby played gently with Sunny's floppy ears, the fur still silky and soft. "I give her one capsule in six hours and another every twelve hours for pain from now on. And wait for her to die."

Max sighed. Abby shook her head once, sharply. "I'm sorry, Max." Her voice softened. "Go home, Max. We'll be fine."

He touched her shoulder again. "If you need anything, you know how to get ahold of me. Day or night, anything at all. I'll be stopping by again every morning until you decide to leave." He hesitated. "Do you know how long you will be staying?"

Abby scratched under Sunny's chin, knowing without sight that Sunny was gazing at her face, watching her expressions. Her throat tightened again, and she cleared it. "I'll stay until Sunny's gone," she told him softly. "She'll get to chase the squirrels in the park as long as she wants."

With one last squeeze and a quiet "goodbye", Max let himself out of the suite. For a minute, Abby stayed where she was, crouched on the carpet with Sunny leaning against her, her warm solidity and sound of her soft pants as reassuring as ever. Until Abby hugged her gently and felt her flinch, whimpering.

Swallowing, Abby lightened her hold. "I'm sorry, Sunshine." Sunny licked her cheek in forgiveness. Abby climbed painfully to her feet, making her way by feel over to the large bed with Sunny brushing against her legs, still trying to guide her. She kicked off her shoes and climbed into the huge expanse of bed with a sigh. She slid between the cool sheets, feeling extremely small and helpless. And alone. She shuddered slightly before shaking the feeling off.

She called for Sunny, and heard her confused, questioning whine. Sunny knew she wasn't allowed to sleep on the beds. Abby called again, turning it into an order, and Sunny crawled up on the bed as Abby helped her.

Sunny settled with a sighing groan, edging close to Abby with another whine. Abby laid her arm across the faithful Lab's shoulders as Sunny stretched out on her side. She felt the damp swipe on her chin, and rested her ear against Sunny's back, listening for the sound of her heartbeat.

The tears slipped out silently, soaking the sunshine-colored coat that Sunny had been named for. Something she could never see could only imagine, feel through her fingers. And soon, she wouldn't have that. The tears came faster. Sunny had been the only friend she had had for almost three years. Locked in a prison of your own making the inner voice mocked. She shut her unseeing eyes. NO! I didn't ask for this! she railed inwardly. Poor little rich girl. You brought this isolation on yourself. Won't let no one touch you, physically or emotionally. Except for a dog the voice mocked. She flinched. "That's not true," she whispered aloud, and Sunny whined. "You think I wanted this? I learned my lesson from the very first! No one wants a defective friend! A defective anything! Sunny's the only living thing that accepts me as I am," she retorted. Sunny yelped as she heard her name, and Abby ran her hand over her head soothingly. Unconditional love is nice the voice agreed. But she can hardly provide the kind of interaction you need. "She provides enough," Abby shot back. She did. But maybe it's time for you to look further. Because she's going to die soon. Abby recoiled as the reminder struck home. Her face crumpled. Abby, she's going to die...die die d-- Abby shut the voice away, shuddering, until it quieted. Her arms tightened around Sunny as she felt the dog's trembles. She whispered soothingly, until the words even began to work on herself, and she slipped into an exhausted sleep, for once too tired for the demons of her past or present to chase her.

Sunny's soft whine and nudging woke her from a deep, dreamless sleep. Groggily, she lifted her head, feeling for the watch that lay on the beside table and running her finger over the raised numbers. Almost midnight.

"Out?" Abby asked softly.

Sunny whined again, heaving herself to the side of the bed and jumping off. Abby's teeth gritted at the sound of the stiff, plodding movements, hearing the dog stumble before righting herself. Abby slid her legs over the side of the bed, searching by feel for her shoes and slipping them on. She heard the soft pad of Sunny's feet, and then the nudge of her abnormally warm nose against her knuckles as the dog urged something into her hand.

Abby opened her hand, her heart catching as she fingered the familiar lines of Sunny's harness. "No, no work tonight, Sunshine," Abby told her softly. Sunny whined as Abby put the harness on the table, the whine becoming more insistent as Abby reached for the narrow, metal cylinder of her folded walking cane. The harness was thrust into her lap again, and Sunny yelped. Abby hesitated, then acceded to the dog's desire, sliding the cane into her pack before quickly working the harness into position. Sunny gave a happy sigh as Abby stood, moving into position as she slung her backpack over her shoulders.

"Forward," Abby ordered softly. Sunny stumbled slightly, and Abby winced. Sunny leaned heavily against her for a moment, steadying, before striding forward to the suite's door. Abby whispered a word of praise, her heart aching as she followed her friend through the dark.

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"Can this day get any longer?" Chris grumbled, his forehead thudding to the cool tabletop.

"Hey, at least James finally got the bus to start. Can you see us calling for Triple A?" JC asked dryly, gulping water from the bottle he held. "What time is it anyway?"

"Nearly midnight, last time I checked," Lance answered, resting his temple tiredly against the cool pane of glass from his position in the kitchen lounge's booth. Beside him, Joe yawned.

"God, just get us to the hotel so I can shower," Justin muttered prayerfully, stretching and slumping down opposite him beside Chris.

The city flashed by beyond the window, and Lance yawned, then blinked as a cell phone rang.

"Who is that?" JC finally asked, walking through the bunks in the direction of the continuous rings.

"Hey, Lance, it's you!" JC called seconds later. Lance caught the cell phone on another ring, automatically pressing the 'on' button.

"Hello?"

"Abs? What took so long?" asked a worried, older male voice. Lance frowned.

"Abs? Who's Abs?" he asked in confusion, his mind clicking along sluggishly.

"Who's this?" the voice demanded, sounding alarmed. "Why do you have Abs' phone?"

"I'm Lance, and this is my phone. Isn't it?" Lance pulled the phone away from his ear, examining it closely. His eyes widened, and he slowly replaced the device. "No, it's not," he answered his own question. He looked up at JC. "Where did you get this phone?"

JC shrugged, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter listening to Lance's end of the conversation with interest. "It was in your coat pocket."

Lance frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know how..." he trailed off as Joe waved a hand.

"That's the phone I picked up off the floor--in the lobby. I thought it was yours that you dropped it...so I picked it up and put it in your jacket in the van. Was I wrong, was it that girl's?" Joe asked with concern.

Lance was silent, his mind flashing back to the strange scene in the hotel lobby. "Uh, sir, is Abs....is she..." he stumbled, unsure how to word the question.

"Blind? Yes, you've met her?" the man asked eagerly.

"Yeah, earlier today," Lance admitted. "One of my friends accidentally picked up the phone thinking it was mine. She had it in her lap. I guess it sort of...fell out."

The man sighed. "Oh Lord. She really needs that phone. Is there any way you could drop off the phone at the front desk? Tell them she needs it and have it delivered to her ASAP?"

Lance nodded automatically, "Yeah, no problem. We're headed back that way now."

"Thank you," the man spoke with relief. "Could you have them tell her to call Max back, too? It's important. I just hope she hasn't needed it already. She thinks I worry too much; she's so independent, she refuses to accept help until she's desperate, and sometimes not even then. But I wish she would have agreed to at least stay with my family, we would have loved to have her, and she shouldn't be alone," Max fretted.

Lance's eyebrows rose, startled by the influx of information he'd received about the girl in the lobby. There was a pause as the man drew a deep breath. "Oh, dear, forgive me for rambling, I'm just worried," Max apologized, embarrassed.

Lance smiled wryly. "Don't worry about it, sir. We'll deliver the phone as soon as we get to the hotel," he promised.

Justin waved a hand in his face. "Deliver the phone to whom?" he prodded. Lance's eyes widened.

"Oh, yeah. Who are we supposed to tell them to hold it for?" he inquired, motioning for a piece of paper and pen to write it down.

"Oh. It should be under Abby Prentice. Room 5501," Max rattled off.

Lance was silent with surprise. "That's the penthouse suite," he remarked slowly.

"Yes, it is," Max agreed quietly. "Thank you very much for your help, Lance. I do appreciate it, and so will Abs."

The phone clicked, disconnecting the call. Lance hung up more slowly, contemplating the piece of paper in front of him. "Curioser and curioser," he mumbled.

Chris set Busta on the tabletop, and he scampered over to greet Justin. "Well?" he asked finally.

Lance sighed, meeting the four pairs of interested eyes. "We're going to play UPS. Drop it off at the desk." He shrugged.

"The penthouse, huh?" JC asked. "Wonder who she is?"

Justin propped his chin on his fist. "Wonder why she was crying?" he asked quietly, sympathy crossing his face. The others nodded.

Chris played with Busta's ears absently, frowning. "You said she was crying before you asked her if she was alright." Lance nodded.

"And she didn't react like she did until Busta barked," he observed.

"Her dog didn't look very healthy," Joe contributed thoughtfully.

"Maybe her dog is sick?" JC asked with concern. "That can't be good."

"That has to be awful," Justin observed softly. "We'd hate to lose Busta, and we don't need him like she obviously needs her dog."

"Why aren't her parents with her? Is she alone here, do you think?" JC slumped down against the cabinets, bracing his feet on the floor.

"Yes," Lance answered. "From what this guy Max says, she is." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Do you think there's anything we can do for her?" he asked uncertainly.

"Like what?" Joe wondered. "She's not a fan, at least, it doesn't seem like she knew our voices. What could we offer her?"

Lance groaned. "My brain is too tired to even drizzle right now," he mumbled.

"Then again, there's no guarantee we're ever gonna see her again, either," Chris pointed out. "In fact, we probably won't."

"The guy Max said she was stubborn. A loner," Lance spoke absently, yawning. "Won't let anybody near her."

"You mean, no friends?" Joe asked incredulously.

"How can she...I mean..." Justin waved a hand in frustration. "You can't just live by yourself all the time. You have to have human contact. Don't you?"

Lance stared off into space. "If you've lived alone long enough, you could learn to live without people, I guess." He shrugged. What a lonely way to live.

"She let you touch her," Chris pointed out.

Lance shrugged again, sighing. "Probably an out of character thing. She was pretty upset."

Staring out the window, Joe suddenly sat forward. "Whoa, I think I just saw her!" He leaned across Lance, pointing to the sidewalk that was rapidly disappearing behind them.

Lance craned his neck, seeing a small figure with her arms wrapped around a golden retriever. "It is," he spoke with disbelief.

"Alone!? In New York City, at midnight?" JC demanded. He went and stuck his head into the driver's compartment, where their bodyguards kept the other man company, and the bus slowed to turn, sweeping back around the block.

"What are we doing? JC...?" Justin raised an eyebrow at his older friend.

Lips pressed together disapprovingly, JC told them, "We'll take her back with us. She has no business on a deserted street with nothing but a sick dog to protect her."

Chris shook his head. "JC, man, this chick doesn't sound like she'll take orders," he told him doubtfully.

"If she has any sense at all, she'll be grateful for the lift," he told them dryly.

"We're not actually that far from the hotel, maybe the dog had to go out," Lance pointed out logically, though worry nibbled at his thoughts. There'd been something odd about the girl's posture.

"Too late now," JC told them with grim cheerfulness as the bus slowed to a stop with a sighing squeal of air brakes.

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"Sunny, please please get up," Abby whispered, heart racing. Sunny moaned, panting, and struggled to rise. Abby's muscles screamed as she attempted to lift the dog to her feet. She broke out into a cold sweat as Sunny whimpered, crumpling heavily to the pavement. Sunny whined softly, and Abby stroked her head, trying to make soothing words through the jumbled thoughts crowding into her head.

Sunny had seemed alright, or at least no worse than usual. They had walked slowly after Sunny had finished her business in the bushes, taking a stroll around the block. Abby had been mildly rattled to discover that the 'around the block' tour she had planned was a little longer due to a street being blocked. But such things were not uncommon in her life, and she simply directed Sunny onward to the next corner. The cool night had been so refreshing. The darkness hadn't been a deterrent, since it was all she saw, day or night. She knew had Max found out what she was doing, she'd get an earful, but the 'dangerous' aspects of her actions mattered very little to her. She couldn't find it in herself to really care. No one else in her life had, except for her parents, and they weren't here anymore. The only things she carried on her were her backpack, which contained little more than bus fare, her cane, and her cell phone. The card to the hotel was in her pocket. She hadn't looked at herself in a mirror since the day she went blind, and her image of herself was a nebulous one, a hazy one of herself as she had been at twelve, and she doubted she looked very different at her present age, from what few comments she drew. So any prospective thieves had very little to gain from accosting her, as proven by her roaming with Sunny in all the cities they had visited, day or night. If her assumptions were foolish, so be it. The only thing that had ever had the ability to panic her was the thought of being stranded if something should happen to Sunny, and she had no way of getting help. And now she was panicking. Sunny's first stumble had slipped past her; Abby hadn't known anything was wrong until Sunny had halted then simply collapsed, breathing shallowly. After several aborted attempts to rise, Abby had reached for her phone to call for help, and discovered it gone. She'd nearly ripped her bag apart looking for the errant device, and come up with nothing. She swallowed, wrapping her arms around Sunny's shoulders as she heard the rumble of a large vehicle pass by, stirring a wind that whipped at her hair. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to calm herself. She could find her way back to the hotel with her cane, but not with Sunny. The dog was too heavy for her to carry, and too weak to come with her. And Abby couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her. Abby buried her face against her silky coat, feeling the irregular beat of Sunny's heart. Fright roared through her. What could she do? What should she do? Oh, Lord; help me, she prayed. She struggled to find the words, the inner voice rusty with disuse. Her life had injured her belief that there was anyone out there who took an interest in her well being, physical or supernatural, but she had never really stopped believing completely. There had always been a tiny kernel of hope that never really died. Her eyes shut tight. Help me, please. Help Sunny. Maybe I can't ask you to not let her die. But not here. Please? Her shoulders stiffened, her head turning as she heard the hiss of air brakes next to the curb, a dozen feet from her position crouched next to Sunny. A bus? She wondered dazedly, registering multiple squeals and clicks.

She stumbled to her feet, crouched protectively over Sunny's prone form, and stared at the darkness in front of her, holding herself still, fists clenched at her sides as she waited, heart thundering desperately.

Heavy, male footsteps hit the sidewalk, and she turned her head, counting feet with her breath catching. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Oh, God. She straightened slightly, trying to make her skinny frame more imposing. And trying to breathe normally.

"Abs? Is something wrong?" asked a soft, deeply gentle voice. She went rigid, her head swinging to the right to locate the owner of the voice, her mind tickling. "Or would you prefer Abby?"

Her forehead wrinkled in a frown, distress tightening her vocal cords. "Who are you?" she demanded stiffly.

"I'm Lance," the deep voice answered quietly. Abby bit her lip, searching frantically to connect the name and voice. Then it clicked, hearing the echoes of musically soft reassurances in her head.

"The hotel," she stated softly, wincing slightly. She tilted her head, scrutinizing the sources of smell and warmth that gathered around him. "Who are the four men with you?" she asked suspiciously.

"My friends," he told her, a note of surprise in his voice. "We just want to help you."

Abby swallowed, head jerking as Sunny whined softly, her voice frighteningly faint. "What's your dog's name?" asked a gentle tenor. Her jaw clenched.

"Sunshine. I call her Sunny," she responded haltingly.

"Sunny doesn't look well. And you're not big enough to carry her back to the hotel. We can take you back with us," another voice chimed in, shades of New York in his tone.

Abby hesitated, knowing it was her only option but rebelling inwardly just the same. She nodded reluctantly, stiffening as she sensed herself being crowded by three large male forms. Panic rose and she called the only name she knew. "Lance!" Her head jerked as a large male hand engulfed her fingers.

"We're just going to pick Sunny up so we can get her on the bus, Abby." She sensed movement, and then her fingers were being transferred to another male grip, this one even larger. "This is my friend Justin. Will you let him help you onto the bus?"

She was mildly irritated at being spoken to like a child, but simply nodded, eager to get back to the hotel. The clean, slightly woodsy scent touched with sweat that she associated with "Lance" moved away from her, and Justin cleared his throat.

"Hi," the newest voice was the youngest she had heard yet, and came from far above her. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, her ears focusing on the soft murmurs behind her as Sunny was eased into her helper's arms.

"How...how do I do this?" Justin questioned uncertainly, holding her fingers gingerly. Abby wondered at the note of shyness in the voice, and relented slightly, forcing a faint smile.

"Like this," she told him, turning their clasp and finding the crook of his elbow with her hand. She moved cautiously to his side, and instructed, "You just have to tell me when to duck and when to step down or up."

"Okay, I can do that," Justin spoke with relief, standing there.

Abby smiled faintly. "Forward, Justin," she instructed gently.

He started. "Oh yeah," he replied sheepishly.

She followed as he walked forward, guiding her towards the owner of the large, rumbling engine she heard. They stopped beside it, and Abby craned her neck slightly as Justin warned her, "Three steps right in front of you. Be careful 'cause they're a little steep."

Abby nodded, reaching out an investigative hand and contacting a doorframe on the right. She gripped it for balance as she reached for the step in front of her with a confidence she didn't feel. She felt naked without Sunny there to be her eyes. Her stomach clutched, then her foot found purchase, and she ascended the steps into the bus.

"Justin, take her back to the lounge. Chris, go get one of the spare pillows and a blanket," the soft tenor from before called out, and Abby began to turn.

"Whoa!" Justin grabbed her arms, and she barely quelled the urge to pull away. "Here, I'll show you the back lounge, and they'll bring Sunny back there," he informed her reassuringly. Reluctantly, Abby let herself be escorted back, feeling herself pass through a hallway and open area, but no seats.

"Why is there a lounge on the bus? And no seats?" she asked in puzzlement.

Justin coughed, then laughed. "Oh, sorry. This isn't really a bus. I mean it is, but it isn't. It's our tour bus," he explained.

"Tour bus?" Abby echoed. "Why would you have a tour bus? You live here?" she asked, a strange look on her face.

"Yeah, for most of the year, when we tour. Here, sit down here," Justin urged her backward, and she sat down on a soft cushion.

"Tour?" she echoed again, her worried mind niggling at her. "Are you all some sort of...of...band?" she asked suspiciously, listening to him move towards the other side of the room and settle, springs squeaking faintly.

"Sort of," answered a new voice, mild amusement lacing the tone. She stiffened slightly as the owner of the voice sat down next to her. "I'm Chris," he told her, his good-humored voice oddly young and old at the same time. She couldn't pin down any sort of age range for him.

She waited a beat, raising an eyebrow as she waited for him to continue, then straightened anxiously as she heard Sunny's frightened yip. Movement surrounded her, and the bus accelerated forward as Sunny moaned from not more than a couple of feet in front of her.

"Sunny?" Abby reached out a hand towards the noise, fear tightening her chest. Fingers enclosed hers, and she nearly ripped her hand away.

"Hey," Lance objected softly, tightening his grip. He tugged her hand down, and her fingers touched Sunny's warm muzzle. "We were just putting her on the blanket," he explained gently, releasing her fingers. Abby abandoned the couch, sliding down to the floor and scooting over until she could cradle Sunny's head in her lap. Sunny whimpered, and licked her fingers weakly as Abby scratched her chin, a slow sigh escaping her as she pressed a hand to the heart laboring in the dog's chest. She could feel five pairs of eyes pinned to her as she carefully unlatched the harness with the ease of long practice, sliding the stiff leather into her pack as she waited patiently for the next question.

"What's wrong with her?" Chris asked as she zipped her backpack closed, voice extremely gentle.

Her throat threatened to close. "Cancer. Untreatable, inoperable," she spoke tonelessly, distancing herself from the thought.

"I'm sorry," Justin spoke first, voice choked. Abby's head tilted curiously as she gazed in his direction.

"Why?" she asked bluntly, anger stirring. "You don't know me, or Sunny. I can get another dog. Its not like I could form any sort of bond with an animal. So why should you care?" she spoke bitterly, pained fury invading her voice as she flashed back to the cruel, careless words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Really, Abigail, all this fuss and bother," Aunt Claire sighed dramatically, pacing around the room behind her. "Why must you go gallivanting around the country on this foolish mission when you need to be here?"

Anger bubbled through her veins, but she maintained the unruffled, calm exterior she had perfected over the years in dealing with her relatives. Barely. The computer in front of her chimed as it received her voice mail.

"Because I am, Claire," she told the woman calmly, having long since dropped the 'Aunt' for a woman who had never cared for Abigail, even as an frightened, orphaned ten-year-old. "And I'm sure you'll fend for yourself just fine. Take Cecile and go shopping," she told her, voice laced with subtle sarcasm.

Claire sighed dramatically. Then again when it didn't gain an immediate response. "What, Claire?" Abby snapped, beginning to lose her patience. The automated voice signaled her that the computer program had ended its assignments. She inserted the mini earpiece, ignoring Claire, and listened as she was informed of breaking stock quotes. She ordered several buys, then shut the system down, reaching to Sunny where she lay on the floor at her feet and ruffling her silky fur.

Claire sighed again, and Abby winced as she moved closer, the cloying scent of Chanel No. 5 suffocating her. Sunny sneezed. "Claire, I've told you repeatedly not to wear that friggin' perfume around me or Sunny," she snapped, climbing to her feet and shutting the laptop. "Why haven't you disappeared yet?" she demanded, in no mood to argue with her aunt about her decision to go to New York.

"Really, Abigail, did school teach you nothing?" Claire asked, sounding long-suffering.

"The only school I went to that taught me anything worthwhile was the one I went to learn to cope with being blind, and the one that taught me to work with Sunny. If you're referring to that worthless piece of crap 'finishing' school that you insisted I go to, then yes, I didn't learn anything," Abby confirmed, voice tinged with satisfaction.

"Abigail, it isn't ladylike to sound smug," Claire reproved, ignoring everything else about her statement. Abigail gritted her teeth as she mentally counted down the seconds for the next comment.

"And must you walk around barefoot? I mean, I have forced myself to deal with your insistence on holy jeans, but..." Claire's voice changed slightly as another presence entered the room. "Cece! Can't you exert some influence on your cousin's wardrobe choices?"

Abby rolled her eyes, stuffing papers in her briefcase. "But, Mother, if Abigail wishes to dress like a homeless person, then, what can I do about it? After all, she's..." Cecile's catty, snotty voice drifted off into uncomfortable silence, and Abby raised an eyebrow at her 16-year-old cousin.

"Blind? Yes, Cecile, that would be the correct term for my disability, but sshhh, don't tell the neighbors," Abby drawled sarcastically. "But being blind has no effect on my dressing patterns. I dress this way because I want to, and will continue to do whatever I want as long as I wish," Abby's voice gradually hardened, a latent warning in it to tell her relatives how far she would let herself be pushed. And no matter their 'embarrassment' over her disregard for etiquette, they wouldn't dare piss off their bread and butter. For it certainly wouldn't be out of love Abby thought bitterly.

Sunny groaned softly, leaning heavily against Abby for support as she climbed to her feet. "Though I must agree with Mother on this one, dear cousin," Cecile added distastefully.

Abby refrained from snorting. Cecile's decisions had been and would always be tailored to her mother's and her own social-climbing desires and greed. She felt a slight pang for the girl Cecile had been before Uncle Charles had died and her mother had asserted control over her, then shook it off. If Cecile had wanted to be any other way, she would have been. Abby may have been blind, but she wasn't <I>blind</I>. "I mean, it can't be all that much trouble to just get another dog," she delivered the observation carelessly.

Abby sucked in a breath, reining in her temper with an effort. Now she remembered why she simply sent a monthly allowance to the California house instead of living with her aunt and cousin. "I do not want another dog," Abby snarled, and Sunny growled softly, standing protectively against her. "Sunny has been the only living thing I have loved for the past four years. I will not just put her down to suit your fancies because you're afraid I might use the money you've earmarked for your next shopping spree. If it comes down to it, I would sell this house and everything in it to save her. Do you understand? Let's not forget who owns everything you've ever frittered away money on," Abby told them harshly, the blood roaring hotly through her head. All the silent tears, all the loneliness of growing up on the outside in a house utterly devoid of love, the emotional blows she had suffered because she was a 'burden', an 'embarrassment', she saw them all in living color across the darkness that shrouded her vision. Sunny had been the only bright spot in her life, the only thing she allowed herself to love because Sunny loved her in return. The shameless pandering that had arisen once Abby had taken control of her inheritance at sixteen had sickened her. Their subtle efforts to control her had infuriated her, and she'd gotten Sunny, refusing to live bound by the dark, and discovered that there was, indeed, something out there she could love. Grief touched her.

"Well, Abigail, dear," her aunt fluttered around, sounding flustered. She laughed condescendingly. "Such an outburst. You can't honestly tell us that you think you have some sort of bond with Sunny. She's just a dog."

Abby smiled bitterly, motioning for Robert to come in as the door opened. He crossed the carpet on quiet feet, leaning down and picking Sunny up gently as Abby slid her feet into a pair of sandals and picked up her cane. "Actually, Claire, after having the experience of growing up in this house, I have discovered that I quite enjoy the company of warm-blooded things." Her cane snicked out as Claire gasped. "I don't know where I'll be staying, but I won't be coming back here," she told them curtly. "If you wish to reach me, leave a message with the service." She strode confidently out of the office, out of the house, out of the whole atmosphere, with a breath of relief, following Robert to the car, which would take them to the airport. To New York.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who told you that? Your parents?" The soft tenor asked, breaking the startled silence.

Abby closed her eyes tightly. "No," she answered succinctly, having once again calmed herself, then countered, needing to change the subject, "May I have a name?"

There was a beat of surprised silence. "I'm sorry. I'm JC," the voice responded.

"What does it stand for?"

"My given name is Joshua Scott Chasez," his voice acquired a mock-pompous tone, and she smiled faintly.

"The one from New Yawk," she drawled, turning her head towards the other couch where he'd sat down. "What is your name, Yankee?"

A soft laugh. "Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr. At your service," he declared dramatically. "But you can call me Joey. Or Joe. Or 'hey you'. Just call me."

Abby's brows lifted at the flirtatious tone. "You're Italian, aren't you?" A small smile twisted her lips as male laughter filled the room.

"Hey," Joe replied defensively, a grin in his voice. "Just because I'm Italian..."

"In my experience, if you're Italian, you either think you're Casanova, or Al Capone. But usually it's both. And generally it's the first when dealing with anything that pees sitting down," Abby remarked dryly, stroking Sunny's head as the laughter got louder, good-natured ribbing erupting.

"She's got you there, Joey," Justin agreed, catching his breath.

"How have you come to deal with so many Italians?" JC asked curiously.

"I do a lot of business in New York," Abby answered softly.

"Business?" Lance prodded, sounding intrigued. "What kind of business?"

Abby shrugged. "Investments. Stocks and bonds trading on the Market. Whatever looks promising. Sometimes I prefer coming to New York rather than doing it by computer, fax, and phone."

There was silence as they digested this, and she raised a brow. "Being blind does not affect my intelligence or reasoning capabilities," she mused gently. "Though I'm told that PMS does."

Chris snickered, then yelped as he was smacked. Abby chuckled. "We would never think that," Lance told her hesitantly.

"Which? PMS or blindness?" Abby asked, amused.

Justin coughed. "Um, should we be politically correct and say both?" he asked uncertainly.

"It isn't the fact that you're blind, it's just because you look so young," JC clarified.

Abby shrugged. "I will turn 21 next April. But seeing as I have no indication about my appearance besides what people tell me, I'll just take your word for that."

"If it isn't rude to ask, how long have you been blind?" Joe asked curiously, taking the plunge into forbidden territory.

"I lost my sight the Christmas before my twelfth birthday," Abby told him, not missing a beat. "Degenerative disease of the optic nerves. My field of vision narrowed until it disappeared," she added clinically, hazy memories of those terrifying months and debilitating headaches welling up before she dismissed them.

"Almost nine years," Justin stated softly.

Abby nodded. "You get used to it. Sunny helped a lot," her voice quieted as she ran her fingers over the dog's head, rubbing the spot Sunny loved. Breathing shallowly, Sunny's tail thumped weakly on the floor.

"You've had her all this time?" Chris asked with surprise.

"No. You're eligible for a seeing-eye dog only after you turn 16. I was contacted six months later by an agency who'd heard about me and offered me the training, and the chance to partner with a dog." Abby didn't mention how they'd heard about her after she inherited millions from her parents' trust for her. She shook her head slightly, breathing a sigh of relief as she felt the bus slow down.

"Are we there?" She was eager to get away from these men. While friendly enough, she wasn't comfortable with them. They asked too many questions, ones she felt obliged to answer because of their kindness and help.

"We're here," Lance confirmed. "I'm sorry we asked so many questions," he apologized softly. "Chalk it up to the strangeness of the situation?"

Abby started slightly then nodded automatically, gritting her teeth. She released Sunny reluctantly when a hand touched her elbow, a large male form crouching down next to her. The cool, outdoorsy scent she'd come to associate with 'Justin' reached her, and she allowed him to help her to her feet. He urged her backwards, and she listened intently as Sunny was maneuvered into another pair of arms.

"They won't drop her, Abs," he assured her softly. Abby nodded. "Is it alright if I call you that?" Justin asked uncertainly.

Abby snorted softly. "You can use any derivative of my name except Abigail." She shrugged. "For as long as the time we have left anyway."

"Why not Abigail?" JC asked curiously, the calm, faintly spicy scent of him moving to her other side, then added, "Security will check the hotel first. Lance has Sunny."

Abby relaxed slightly. "Because that's what my relatives call me," she answered briefly as she was urged towards the front of the bus.

"Your relatives?" Justin repeated slowly. "You don't sound overly fond of them."

Abby shrugged. "I tolerate them, and do so by staying as far away from them as possible," slight sarcasm laced her tone, then she paused. "Security?" she repeated softly. Mentally, she reviewed her day, beginning to make the connections. "Are you the reasons for the uproar in the lobby today? Twice?"

There was silence. "Sort of," Chris answered, and Abby grimaced.

"Let's get inside before the inquisition begins again," JC interrupted, and Abby was hustled off the rumbling bus.

"Mine or yours?" she retorted, irritated by the evasion tactics. It made her wonder what they were hiding, if she could trust them for even what little time left she would be with them.

"Ahww, Abs, we only wanted to know a little more about you," Joe teased cheerfully from her right side.

Abby turned her head, raising an eyebrow. "If you had your way—" she lost the rest of her sentence on a gasp as her foot caught the rise of the circular cement step to the front lobby revolving door, flinging her forward. With an exclamation of surprise and apology, Justin thrust an arm across her midsection. She gasped again as her lungs came up hard against muscle and bone, losing her breath before steadying herself. Helpful hands fluttered around her elbows.

"I'm so sorry, Abs," Justin repeated, contrite. "I didn't even think...I..." Abs squeezed his arm to silence him.

"It's alright, Justin." She took a deep breath to steady her jackhammering heart. "You haven't been trained like Sunny has to believe you have two more feet," she teased gently. Rarely did she meet people who treated her normally. She sighed inwardly, then shook off the unnamed wishes. "Let's just go inside. Where's Sunny?"

"Lance is already inside with her, Chris, and JC, waiting on you all to move your slow behinds," Joe informed her, still cheerful and seemingly unfazed by the incident. Abs snorted softly.

"I move faster with my cane. The person who has possession of my elbow is the one who wants to stroll," she retorted.

"Hey, woman, I'm doing you a favor," Justin replied, mock-offended. Abby made a disbelieving noise as they continued towards the door.

"You wanted to give me a concrete facial, free of charge," she drawled. "Thanks, sweetie, didn't know I needed one that badly."

Justin released a huff of laughter, ushering her into the revolving door with his hand at her back and Joe behind them.

"And the real Abs makes an appearance," he mocked under his breath. Abby tilted her head consideringly.

"Perhaps," she agreed softly, seriously. "Or just one of my many personalities."

"Then which is the real one?" Joe asked curiously.

Abby glanced away from all of them. "Who knows?" she murmured. Then sighed almost imperceptibly, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter, anyway."

"What doesn't matter?" Chris asked. Abby's lips twisted the realities of her life crashing in.

"Everything," she replied shortly. "Is there a bellboy around?" she asked abruptly.

"Why?" JC asked, voice puzzled.

"Yeah, we'll take you and Sunny up to your room," Lance offered, but there was a note of implacability in his tone that made her stiffen.

"Yup," Joe agreed, taking her other elbow and ushering her quickly towards the banks of elevators as a soft ding was heard. "We can't stay out in the open too long," he explained as she made a soft sound of protest.

Abby sighed with irritation as five male bodies, the doors closing with a soft whoosh, crowded her. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she raised a hand to Sunny's head next to her in Lance's arms.

"Why are you all so sweaty?" she asked. There was a moment of silence, during which Abby raised an eyebrow.

"Was that one a stumper?" she inquired to the air. She had the uncanny feeling they were exchanging looks over her head. She sighed loudly. "Okay, let's try another one. Where are we going? 'Cause I haven't told you what floor I'm staying on."

"Oh," Lance started, and she turned her head towards him. "Max called," he informed her casually.

"Max called?" she echoed. "How--?"

"I accidentally picked up your phone this afternoon, thinking it was Lance's. You got a call, and he told us where you were so we could have it taken to you. But, then, well...we saw you, so..." Joe trailed off, and Abby was silent, digesting the explanation with an inward sigh. What strange turns my life has taken.

"Do you still have my phone?" she asked finally, breaking the faintly strained silence.

"Yeah, it's in my pocket. I can give it to you as soon as we get to your room. Max wants you to call him back, too."

"I don't doubt it," Abby mumbled wryly.

"Who is Max?" Chris asked curiously.

Abby hesitated, wondering how much to reveal. "He was a close friend of my father's," she finally replied. "He lives here in New York, and is an informal employee of sorts. But I guess you could say he thinks of me as his responsibility because of my father. He offered to help me with Sunny."

"Was a close friend?" Chris asked, a frown in his voice, and Abby winced, silently cursing the slip. The elevator dinged softly, doors sliding open with a sigh.

"My father's dead," she told them abruptly. She strode off the elevator, having crossed the hall enough to know the way instinctively, her fingertips barely brushing the wall to act as a guide. She contacted the doorframe and fumbled in her pocket for the card key, her fingertips sliding over the slick surface to orient it correctly to pass through the lock. The lock toned, the door clicking open. She shoved open the door with subdued violence, the memories bubbling at the back of her mind, like a pot about to boil over. The tightness in her chest made breathing difficult. She strode across the floor, leaving the door open as she kicked off her shoes. Then froze, pausing in the center of the spacious sitting room as she tested the change in the room atmosphere.

"Abs?" Justin questioned in confusion; the door squeaking lightly as it was pushed wide. Abby swung around towards her bedroom, fury edging around the corners of her mind.

"Cecile? Dammit, Cecile, get in here now!" Abby barked, ignoring her visitors as they crowded into her space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance shook his head as he watched Abby's rigid back walk down the hall and glanced down at the golden lab he cradled in his arms as she squirmed slightly, whining with pain. So alone, and about to become even more so. The dog's thin frame rattled with each shallow breath, and he murmured soothingly as he exited the elevator with his groupmates. Justin reached the open door first, raising an eyebrow at them.

"We brave hordes of screaming chicks almost every night, yet somehow this seems more frightening," he grinned.

"Maybe we should have brought Loni to keep her in check," Chris cracked.

"I don't think that would have fazed her at all," JC stated with amusement.

"She's only trying to protect herself," Joe observed quietly. They all turned to him with surprise. He smiled faintly, an echo of his good-natured smile. "Don't tell me you haven't seen it."

Lance looked down at the dog in his arms again. Deep brown eyes met his tiredly, and Sunny whined softly. Pity tightened his heart. "Poor Abby," he mumbled. He couldn't imagine what it was like to live alone. Sometimes, being crowded together as they were wore on the nerves, but he wouldn't give up the friendship and brotherhood he'd found with JC, Joe, Justin, and Chris.

"I wouldn't let her hear you say that," Chris warned, then sighed. "We can't stand out here forever."

Taking the hint, Justin opened the door, and Lance heard him question, "Abs?"

"Cecile? Dammit, Cecile, get in here now!" Lance's eyes widened at the seething tone of voice. When they walked into the spacious suite, Abby was standing in the middle of the sitting room, fists clenched as she stared towards the bedroom.

"Really, Abigail, must you screech so?" a young feminine voice mocked. "Has the mutt kicked the bucket yet?" caroled through the ajar door, and Abby went white. Lance exchanged mildly shocked glances with his friends.

"Not that you'd care either way, but no," Abby informed the girl woodenly. "And I will not speak to you through the door. Get out here," Abby's voice was laced with meaningful warning.

A dramatic sigh issued from within, accompanying an "I'm coming, I'm coming", and Abby's face tightened. From Lance's arms, Sunny whined softly, sensing the tension in her mistress's voice. Abby started then shook herself, pivoting and walking towards them, unerringly finding Sunny.

"Have a seat," she invited with a sigh, pressing her cheek against Sunny's head briefly. "This will probably take awhile," she muttered, straightening.

For the first time, she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, capturing the escaping strands of raven hair as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her sightless eyes turned towards him, giving him his first full view of her face as the others unobtrusively took seats on the available sofas and chairs, examining the plush surroundings with mild awe.

Lance paused, studying the delicately drawn features. High, wide-set cheekbones gave her eerie, light-colored eyes a slightly slanted cast, winged black brows arching beneath a high forehead. A straight, patrician nose and firm, determined jaw and chin gave lie to the softness of her lips, slightly too wide for her thin face. Taken together, Abby would barely have been considered pretty, but the intelligence and slight aloofness stamped there was an arresting combination on a wisp of a girl whose head barely topped his ribs.

"There's a rug next to the fireplace, will you set her there?"

Lance started, shaking himself out of his reverie, and nodded. Then coughed and replied verbally, moving to lay Sunny on the colorful, expensive Oriental rug next to the fireplace. He crouched there on one knee, rubbing the dog's head as he watched Abby move around the room restlessly, skirting the furniture with an adroitness that was startling. Her face was dark, lost in her own brooding thoughts, and Lance and his groupmates exchanged glances, drumming their fingers and bobbing their knees in nervous silence.

Finally, Abby stopped, snapping, "Cecile, I am losing my patience! If you wish to avoid being sent back to Cali immediately, I would advise appearing now."

The door was flung open a split second later, and a girl no older than 16 or 17 pranced out, her tall, model slim frame clothed in designer everything. Long, silky blonde hair framed a classically beautiful face, presently wreathed in a haughty, disdainful expression. "What, Abigail? Mother and I had a—" She broke off as she saw them, mouth dropping open with surprise. Obviously, she recognized them "A-a-a-bi—gail..." she whispered, wide-eyed.

Frowning at the girl with confusion, Abby raised an eyebrow. "Cecile? Speechless?" she mocked. "Are you choking?"

Cecile flushed, stammering, "Abigail, 'N Sync is in your room!" They looked at one another, wincing, wondering what her reaction would be.

Abby was silent, without recognition. "Who?" she asked finally. Cecile sighed with exasperation.

"God, Biga," Cecile breathed, forgetting herself and lapsing into the nickname, her eyes flittering around them, becoming a starstruck teenager. Lance watched an odd, pained expression flit across Abby's face at the name before she shrugged.

"Names mean very little to me, you know that, Cecile," Abby reminded her stiffly, an odd inflection in her voice, then turned and made her way to the fireplace.

"I'm here, Abby," Lance informed her softly, notifying her of his position. Abby skirted around him, lowering herself to sit on the floor next to Sunny, who was dozing restlessly. "Is this true?" she directed her question to the room at large.

"That we're in a music group?" Lance answered reluctantly. "Yes."

"That we're called 'N Sync? Yes again," JC added.

"You've heard them," Cecile told her eagerly, coming to crouch next to her. "At that charity thing for the physically handicapped we went to a couple of months ago. They sang those two songs that you really liked."

Lance watched Abby frown in concentration, absently stroking Sunny's neck. "Sailing," she murmured, glancing up.

Justin brightened, nodding. "Yeah, that's us."

Abby bit her lip. "God Must have Spent.." she trailed off, smiling faintly. "It was a really long title."

Lance chuckled. "Yeah, that's us too."

"Are you going to hold it against us?" Joe asked curiously.

"Hold what against you?" Abby responded calmly.

"The fact that we're in a music group," Chris answered.

Abby's lashes flickered down, and he recognized the expression on her face. She was reassembling the pieces to the puzzle very quickly. "You're one of those pop sensation boybands," she stated.

They all grimaced. Justin sighed. "We can play instruments, but we don't play our own music, therefore we are not a 'band'. We are all over the age of 18, therefore I don't really think we're 'boys'. So the term 'boyband' is misleading. We're singers and performers. We're a musical group," he told her firmly. "It's not fair to label us just because our appeal lies in one area more than others."

Abby held up a hand, smiling slightly. "Whoa, point taken," she agreed softly.

Having watched the whole exchange with fascinated eyes, Cecile finally burst out, "Abigail, why are they here?"

Abby shrugged, sighing tiredly. "Sunny collapsed. They stopped and helped me back to the hotel. End of story," she finished abruptly, turning her piercing, unseeing gaze onto her cousin. "Lance, Joe, Chris, JC, Justin, may I introduce my cousin, Cecile Montgomery," Abby stated, allowing them to offer polite greetings as Cecile flushed.

"Cecile, please explain for me why you showed up here when I specifically told both you and Claire not to bother me?" she continued with deceptive gentleness. Cecile's color deepened with embarrassment.

"Abigail, can we go in the bedroom and discuss this?" she asked uncomfortably. Abby raised an eyebrow.

"I'm staying with Sunny, Cecile. Having intruded into my room without invitation, you can explain things wherever I decide to hear them." Her voice was expressionless, even faintly bored, but Lance could feel the unsettling tension that radiated from her.

Cecile's brown eyes flashed with humiliated anger. "Abigail, why do you have to be—"

Abby lifted a brow. "A bitch?" she completed softly, a muscle in her jaw twitching. The five men in the room shifted, uncomfortable at being caught in the middle of a family disagreement.

There was a moment of extended silence, and Abby smirked, looking oddly pleased with herself. "Come, Cecile, you've never had any qualms about saying anything to me in public before," she reminded her cousin innocently, a wealth of meaning in her tone. Cecile's face flamed, and she refused to meet any of their eyes.

"Biga," she began, pleading, and Abby made a sharp motion.

"Don't call me that," her voice was strained, and she stood abruptly, her frustration palpable.

"We should leave," JC tried tactfully. Abby started, seeming to have forgotten they were present.

She shook her head firmly. "I pay my debts. I owe you for your help," she stated with finality.

"Not at past midnight when you obviously need to, uh, discuss something with your cousin," Justin disagreed.

"You don't owe us anything to begin with," Lance added gently. "We were glad to help."

Abby looked startled, then her lips twisted as she reached to settle the shield of her sunglasses over her eyes once again. "Your good deed for the day, eh?" she mused, then waved a hand before they could refute the statement. "Please, you all need rest. Feel free to leave," she invited softly, pivoting and crossing the room to the bedroom without a backwards glance. After a second's hesitation, Cecile followed, the door closing quietly behind them.

"Okay, what do we do now?" Joe asked, breaking the silence.

"We better go," JC decided, gazing at the closed door with a frown.

"We can't just leave her though," Justin protested, ending on a surprised yawn.

"She doesn't trust us. She doesn't seem to trust anybody. You can't be someone's friend if they won't let you. And we won't be here long enough to even try," Chris pointed out philosophically. His usually smiling eyes were solemn.

Contemplating the hands he'd hooked between his knees, Lance was silent, pondering the fierce, fragile young woman. He sighed softly, unable to banish the image of her tear-streaked face. She was so independent, so competent, he'd sometimes forgotten that she was blind. But it was the almost unconscious innocence and vulnerability that caught his attention, hidden beneath the cynical exterior. From the beginning she'd aroused the protectiveness that he reserved for those in his family and close friends. But was it pity? he wondered. He couldn't be sure, and it unnerved him. Above everything else, he knew she would reject any sort of pity violently.

"Lance, what say you?" JC asked. Lance slid a glance at the dog resting beside him. Sunny sighed, lids twitching in restless sleep. Whatever Abby's motivations or dreams, she kept them hidden like much of everything else. But he had the sinking suspicion that when Sunny died, it would devastate her. And he wondered if she had anyone in her life that would be there for her. If she would let anyone. He sighed inwardly, then stood.

"Let's go," he agreed, fumbling in his pockets briefly before withdrawing the ubiquitous cell phone, checking to make sure it was hers before laying it on the floor next to Sunny. He stroked the silky fur gently before standing. Sad brown eyes opened to observe them quietly as they stood, moving towards the door.

Justin was the last to file out the door, peeking around one last time and gazing at the dog regretfully, the lavish surroundings startling in their wealth. "Bye, Sunny." The door shut softly, and they headed back to their own world and their fidgety bodyguards.

From the rug in front of the fireplace, Sunny gazed for long minutes at the closed door before turning her tired gaze back to the bedroom door, listening to the argument that raged there. She whined softly, closing her eyes painfully.

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