Title
: Shards -- Pieces of Broken GlassTime. It goes on and on. Except in the waiting room of the OR. The other Backstreet Boys had arrived several hours before, towing a hysterical Denise with them. They found Marshall pacing, like a feral animal.
Only Denise dared to go near him and Kevin mummered that she should be eligible for some kind of medal for bravery. She managed to get him to sit down with absolutely no bloodshed, and he was sure that if it had been anyone but Marshall, Denise would have been stroking his hair.
But it was, so she settled for talking quietly to him. Nick watched them. "Brian, what are we going to do?"
"We wait." Brian touched his cross. "And we hope Marshall doesn't snap in the meantime."
"I don't want to see him unhinged." Howie was staring at the ceiling. "I know you guys don't really believe it, but he loves AJ. If something happens in that operating room….."
"We're all fucked." That came from Kevin. Six eyes stared at him. "He was shot in Detroit when he should have been in Orlando. How the hell could we cover this up? We're fucked. He dies, I won't keep going, and neither will any of you. He lives, we have a lot of explaining to do."
The doors swung open, and a doctor, still in scrubs, walked in. "Mrs. McLean?"
"Yes?" Denise stood up. "How is he?"
The moment before the doctor spoke lasted a lifetime. "He's stabilized."
"Thank god." Brian let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh." Denise's eyes closed, and she reached for Marshall's arm. "He's alright."
"I didn't say that. Why don't you sit back down, Ma'am." He stayed standing however. "My name is Robert Todd, I was the attending surgeon during your son's operation. He's alive, Mrs. McLean, but I can't guarantee how long he's going to stay that way."
"I don’t understand."
"If you'd like to come discuss this with me in private-" Dr Todd looked at the sea of famous faces.
"I’m not going anywhere until you explain what that means." Denise's hand was slowly tightening around Marshall's wrist, cutting off his circulation.
"The bullet fragmented inside his skull. AJ is not going to be waking up." He took a step back as Marshall got to his feet.
He wasn't looking at the doctor, but at Brian. "I don't believe in God. Where are you assholes keeping him?"
"I can't let you…" He took a good look at Marshall, and swallowed his words. "Never mind. Follow me."
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"I've gotten a second opinion." Denise almost couldn’t look at those hopeful faces. "They say there’s no chance."
No one said anything for a moment, and then Brian spoke. "That’s what they told my mother twenty years ago, and I’m still alive."
"That’s different. You had a heart defect. AJ has a bullet in his brain." Denise sat down. She’d had all she could take. "He’s breathing on his own, but the doctors say that doesn’t mean anything, so they’re taking him off the monitors."
"I can’t believe he’s gone." Howie spoke so softly they could barely hear him. "I’ve known him since we were kids, and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye."
"You’re all talking like he’s dead already!" Nick was the only one not whispering, and he was screaming. "He’s not! You can’t just give up on him. You can’t."
"There’s nothing left to give up on, Nick. I saw him, there’s no one home. He’s already gone." Kevin was sure his words were going in one ear and out the other. Nick had never listened to him.
"If you want to say goodbye, you should do it today. The doctors aren’t sure how long he’ll…" She trailed off, and hugged Nick as she made her way out of the room. "You have to let go. If you don't, how can I?"
He pulled away from her. "You shouldn’t."
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"You can't do this to me, Alex." Marshall sat at AJ's bedside, staring at the mass of machinery. "I meant it, that no one else has said I love you and meant it in a long time. What the fuck am I supposed to do if you die?"
"Marshall, I need to talk to you." It was Denise.
"Nothing good has ever come of that sentence." He kicked out a chair for her, and took AJ's hands. "I don't want to hear it, a'right? I already know what they told you. No fucking chance, and you might as well turn off the machines."
"That just about covers it." She sat as close to him as she dared. "I'm not doing anything without you though."
"Me?"
"Yes, you." She hesitantly touched his shoulder. "You love him as much as I do, don't you?"
He avoided her eyes. "Ain't saying."
Denise sighed. "Fine, but you still haven't told me what you think."
Marshall stared at the heart monitor for a moment. "They're sure?"
"There's a 99.9% chance he's not going to wake up." Her voice cracked. "Marshall, you have to help me. I don't know what to do. He's all I have."
"I know the feeling." Still not looking at Denise, he kissed AJ's hands, and let them drop. "What's that saying?"
"Which one?"
"If you love it, let it go." Marshall stood up. "He's gone. Let them turn the machines off."
Denise watched him walk out, and the door swing closed. Through the window, she saw him put his fist through the drywall. She couldn't hear him mutter, "My fault, it's my fault," over and over.
"I don't think anyone ever told you the rest." Denise kissed AJ's forehead before looking out the glass again. "If it comes back, it's yours forever. Come back to us, baby. If anyone has ever needed you, it's that man."
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Kevin felt sick just watching them unhook the machines. "The doctors say he broke three bones, not to mention the wall, and when they took him to x-ray, he kept saying it was his fault, like that damn song."
"It’s nobody’s fault but that hood who shot him." Brian felt sick, and he wondered if this was what everyone had felt like when he was having his heart surgery.
"Will all of you just shut up?" Nick had been sitting quietly, opposite Howie, talking to AJ as if the others weren’t there. "He’s not going to die. Stop talking like that."
"Nick, he’s not going to wake up." Brian tried to think of a way to get through to the Eternal Optimist, who seemed to be in deep denial. "You’re not helping Marshall, acting like this."
"I can’t accept that there’s no hope. I didn’t when they said it about you, and I’m sure as hell not going to believe it now. I can’t accept it." Nick looked down at AJ. "I won’t."
That’s when the arguing started. Four full grown men fell into a full blown name calling, adolescent trash talking fight. They were interrupted suddenly by a fifth voice. "Can you tone it down a little, guys? I’m trying to sleep, and you’re not helping."
Silence descended. Kevin just stared, sure he was hallucinating. There was no way AJ had just spoke, but everyone else in the room was staring too, so maybe he wasn’t crazy. "AJ?"
Nick started laughing hysterically. "I knew you could do it, Buddy. I may be blonde, but I knew you wouldn’t just die on us like that."
"Die on you? What are you talking-" AJ was cut off as Howie hugged him. "Nice to see you too, D, but I’d kind of like to breathe today."
"I’m sorry." He pulled back. "When you get better, remind me to slug you for worrying us like that. God, we were talking about coffin liners."
"Don’t scare him!" Brian took his turn cracking AJ’ ribs. "I’m going to go get a doctor. Kevin, help me find Denise and Marshall."
"Before you all leave," AJ touched the bandage on his forehead. "Who shot me, and who’s Marshall?"
"He didn’t just say what I think he did, did he?" Nick prayed to God he’d heard wrong.
"He did." Kevin took a deep breath. "Go get a doctor, Brian. No one say anything until he gets here."
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Dr. Todd had never seen a miracle before, but he was sitting next to one right now. "You realize you should be dead."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" AJ was staring into a mirror. "I can’t believe I lost five years."
"Alexander, you are extremely lucky that’s all you lost." Dr. Todd wasn’t sure how to say this without scaring his patient too much. "I almost didn’t operate, and no one is sure why you woke up. It appears your brain rerouted itself. You're alive, but those five years are probably gone forever."
"My bandmates," AJ smiled. "They say we made it, that it was all worth it. That thousands of people come to see us when we tour. The good news is that we're doing a new album, so they'll be just as lost as I am."
"That's good. You need to get back into your life." He stood. "Your friend Nick, we thought we'd have to sedate him after you woke up. And your mother won't stop crying."
"So, I'm almost 24, right?" AJ was looking in the mirror one of the nurses had given him. "Did I miss anything important besides our rise to stardom?"
Dr. Todd did not want to answer that.
-----
"Dre."
"Slim! Where the fuck have you been?" Dre motioned his secretary out of the room. "Three days since that bastard broke into your house, and no word. I thought you were dead."
"I wasn't there."
His voice was off. "Are you on something?"
"The doctors have me doped up. Dre…I wasn't there, but someone else was."
Fuck. "Tell me a Backstreet Boy didn't die in your house, Em. Because-"
"He ain't dead, but you gotta come get me. I can't be here."
"Tell me what happened. Why the hell are you doped up if he was the one that got shot?"
"Put my hand through the wall. We're at the hospital nearest my house, damned if I know it's name. Just come get me, alright?"
Dre hung up, feeling worse than before. One his way out, he called Jive. By the time he got to the hospital, he knew the entire story. What a fucking mess.
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They elected Kevin to talk to Dre, while Brian Nick and Howie attended a Firm briefing. A massive cover up was underway that would require the cooperation of both labels to pull off. "Five years, down the drain. He might as well be 18 again. Full media block out until we can get AJ back to Florida."
"You actually think we can cover this up? People must have see him. The shooting was on the fucking news." Dre was pacing back and forth, making Kevin more than a little nervous.
"Official story is Stan shot himself because Marshall wasn't home. Tomorrow, we'll announce AJ was in a car accident. They're still trying to think of some reason for Marshall to have broken his hand, but they'll come up with something." Kevin was getting dizzy watching Dre. "Don't suppose he plays basketball?"
"He's a basket case. Nearly killed him when Bugz died, and they weren't fucking." Dre stopped walking. "What am I supposed to do with him? Five years ago, there was barely an Eminem, let alone one that knew your boy. They're strangers."
Neither of them heard the door open, or Marshall walk in. "They say… they say it's best if I let him forget me. They're airlifting him now, Kevin. I just wanna get out of here."
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