Title: A Change of Face
Author: Granitite Stone, granitite@yahoo.com
Summary: Nothing is absolute. Our paths can be changed in an instant, and nothing will be the same. NOT PART OF STRANGE BEDFELLOWS!
Web Address: www.angelfire.com/weird/cobalite/index3.html
Pairing: AJ/Marshall
Rating: R

When he got down to breakfast. Nick was the only one who gave him a funny look. "Don't start with me. I can sleep with whoever I want."

"You've lost whatever was left of you mind!" Having a drink with him is one thing. Screwing around with him is another."

"Nick." Brian looked at Nick like he'd grown a second head. "Marshall, just ignore him. He called that girl Diane again, and she left. Apparently, you were her favorite anyways."

"You don't know who answered his door this morning!" Nick practically growled around his spoon.

"It could have been Johnny No Name for all I care." Silence. "Marshall? Nick? That was a rhetorical statement you know."

Marshall just looked at Brian. "You just said you didn't care."

"I didn't mean it!"

Kevin looked up from his paper. "It could be worse, Brian."

"How? He's sleeping with a rapper!"

Howie answered for him. "It could be Chris."

"There's always that." Brian just shook his head. "At least AJ isn't going to screw around with Justin."
-----
"Where's AJ?" Peter noticed there was no one camped in front of the tv on the bus.

"In back." Swift jerked his thumb in direction of the bunks. "I wouldn't go back there, though."

"Why? It’s not like he's asleep." Peter started walking down the aisle.

"He is. And he said the first person to wake him up was getting a bullet to the brain."

"AJ's actually asleep?" Bizzare gave Swift a disbelieving look. "Don't fuck with me. Alex doesn't sleep. He crashes out every few days when the sleep deprivation finally gets to him."

"All I know is he came back this morning, awake. Then he crawled into bed, and issued his warning."

"Shit. If they made him sleep, we're taking whoever he fucked last night on tour."

"Ask Rondell. He's the one that met the guy."
-----
Brian knocked desperately on Marshall's door. "Come on, be in. Marshall, we need you! It's Nick."

The person who opened the door wasn't Marshall. "He's not here."

"Johnny." It just wasn't Brian's day. "If he's not here, then why are you?"

"You think I flew all this way just to fuck around and go home?" AJ could tell that was exactly what Brian thought had been going on the past few months. "I was asleep. He's probably in the weight room."

"I checked there already." Brian started to look panicked. "We need him, right now."

"I. Was. Asleep. Understand, Littrell? Now, whatever your golden boy has done, I don't care. My area of expertise includes rap, fast food, and fights."

"Then you might be exactly what I need."

AJ looked at Brian for a moment. "Carter got into a fight?"

"He's not quite hamburger, but we have an appearance in three hours. I thought maybe Marshall might have some ideas, but you're perfect." Brian grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him down the hall.

"I don't want to help some prissy little… Holy shit, Carter. You're six foot one. Who the hell took a swing at you?" AJ was greeted by a very bruised Backstreet Boy, ice pressed against one discolored mark while others blossomed.

"Get him out of here!" Nick was practically screaming. "I wanted Marshall, not the new Vanilla Ice."

"Those are fighting words, Carter. If you don't want me to help you, I'll go right back to bed. But I'll tell you one thing. Management likes their pop stars best when they don't look like an old banana."

Nick sighed. "What can you do?"

"Where's your makeup?"

"What makes you think I wear makeup?" Nick got all defensive again.

"Don't play games with me. I want to go back to bed before it wears off." He waited while Brian retrieved a box from under the bed. "Do you need your hands bandaged?"

"What?" AJ grabbed for Nick's wrists, and he jerked away. "Let go'a me."

"Shit, did you even fight back?" His knuckles weren't bruised. AJ had never seen anyone come out of a fight looking as bad as Nick did without throwing at least one punch. Nick didn't answer. "Fine, don't tell me. You got marks anywhere beside your face?"

"There was blood on his t-shirt when he came to get me." Brian spoke up when Nick didn't.

"Take it off." Nick still didn't move. "Trust me Carter, I'm not going to grope you or anything. I like my men with a little more intelligence, and a better haircut."

"There is nothing wrong with my hair!" He tugged off his shirt reluctantly. "Happy?"

Three bloody rents stretched across Nick's chest. "Jesus, Carter. What did you do to piss her off?" AJ was trying to keep from laughing.

"Who said anything about her?" Nick put his shirt back on. He could live without a bandage for now.

"Any man with nails that long is more libel to mark up Marshall than you." He took the washcloth Brian gave him, and poured alcohol from the first aid kit on it. "So, I ask again, what did you do to piss her off?"

"I called her a bitch, and she attacked me in my sleep." Nick was proud he didn't scream when the alcohol hit the first cut on his face.

"And she was offended by bitch because?" AJ grabbed a tube of foundation, and went to work on Nick.
-----
"Manda beat him up?" Marshall had gone out for breakfast. By the time he got back with McDonalds for six, Nick was presentable enough to walk through the crowds to the radio interview. "Kaos has the worst taste in women. She's a bitch and she's just fucking him to further her career."

"She's got a mean right hook and a manicure, whoever she is." AJ buried his head into a pillow. "When I drop dead on stage, you're friends are paying for my funeral."

"You're not going to die. It takes years to die from insomnia." Marshall flopped down on the bed. "I don't get it. Why don't you just get someone to sleep with you on the road?"

"No one wants to just sleep with a celebrity. They all want to fuck, and then they expect you to kick them out so they leave. And the ones who I can convince to stay… It doesn't help."

"You ever consider going to a shrink?" His fingers stroked through AJ's hair. "I mean, most of it's bullshit, but they might be able to stop the nightmares."

"I've been to a shrink. For the first two months after I found her. The nightmares got worse." AJ opened his eyes and looked at Marshall. "There's something special about you. We're going to figure it out."

"Boy bands are a dime a dozen. There's nothing special about me." A warm arm wrapped around Marshall.

"Yeah." AJ sighed. "Except you work better than my sleeping pills."
-----
"Pigeon-holed into some poppy sensation to cop me rotation at rock'n'roll stations." AJ looked up. "Marshall, you have serious problems."

"Says the man who can't sleep without seeing his dead girlfriend."

"That's a low blow, you prick. You're a pop star. Get over it. I have."

"Fuck you. Oh wait, I already did." He flipped a page. "Try this one."

AJ read, the book getting closer and closer to his nose. "Holy shit, Marshall. What's your problem with Britney?"

"If she wasn't such a tight ass bitch, Justin wouldn't…." Marshall shook his head. "She's playing games. As long as she keeps her legs shut and Justin stays a virgin, Chris won't touch him. The last time I saw her, I was at a party with Chris. She was wearing a little half shirt, a mini skirt, and no underwear. Justin followed her around like a puppy all night, and then she went home with her choreographer."

"Let me guess. You found Justin trying to get into your man's pants, and broke up with him." AJ tried some of the lines out loud. "Whoops I did it again, didn't I? My shit, It's harder to figure out then what Britney's tit size is."

"What can I say? I’m bitter. Justin is doing his best to take what should be mine. Our fame, our fans, and most importantly, Chris."

"You know, it's a little disturbing lying in bed naked with you hearing you talk about your ex-boyfriend that you're still in love with." AJ closed the notebook. "What do you call this?"

"Ain't Nothing But Music. I only have a couple of verses. It would take a group to sing it, and there's no way they'd help me record it."

"Who's the other voice on Stan?"

"Dido, but it was just a one time thing. And there are some things the guys aren't willing to do, even for me."

AJ looked up. "Can I use this?"

"What?"

"Can I use this? I swear, we'll get you a writing credit… but Marshall, this deserves to be recorded. We could finish this, put it on Devil's Night."

"You want to put one of my songs on your next album?" Marshall looked at AJ like he was crazy. "Don’t you think people would notice the name Marshall Mathers on your LP?"

"Marshall didn't write this." AJ looked like a man with an idea. "Eminem did. You've got people who've heard Stan and think you're an underground artist. It's not a publicized nickname, like the rest of those idiots'. No one has to know a Backstreet Boy wrote this."

"Alright." Marshall was a little stunned. He clicked off the bedside light.

"Talk to me."

"I find it a little disturbing that I put you to sleep, you know that?"
-----
The Princess Diaries soundtrack wanted Howie's song, the one that was only on the special release of Black and Blue. Nick was sprawled across Marshall's floor, listening to it. Said Backstreet Boy had gone downstairs to escape his band mates. They'd been on the bus together for twelve hours, and they were all about ready to kill each other. Except for Nick, who'd grown up like that and didn't see the problem.

He sang along to the chorus, stopping automatically for the solos. There was a banging on the door. "Yo, Marshall, open up."

"He's not here." This time it was Nick's turn to look out the door. "So go away and do what ever it is you do when you're not fucking my friend."

Marshall's solo kicked in the background.

//You don't know how you've touched my life
Oh, in so many ways I just can't describe
You tell me what love is supposed to be
You saw the little things, that makes you beautiful to me.//

AJ went pale, and started backing away from the door.

"Johnny?" Nick wondered what he'd said. Their verbal sparring usually got much more vicious than that.

"I…" He turned around, and high tailed it back towards the elevator.

"Marshall's gonna kill me."
-----
He eventually found AJ in the lounge, sitting on the floor, knees tucked under his chin. "What did he say? Because after I finished ripping him a new one, he was too busy cowering to remember."

"He didn't say anything." AJ looked up. "He was listening to a CD. It gave me a flashback."

"What the hell could Nicky have been listening to that would remind you of…" Marshall didn't want to say it. Judging by the bloodshot condition of AJ's eyes, AJ had come here to sleep. Talking about finding Tina was never conducive to rest.

"I don't know." He let Marshall pull him to his feet. "Marshall, it was your voice. Your voice doesn't do that."

"Come on, bed." Marshall didn't like how scared AJ looked.
-----
AJ couldn't even find the song Nick had been listening to. Denaun dropped into the next seat and snatched his headphones off. "Fuck man, that Boy is ruining your taste in music. What the hell is that?"

"Light Switch." He turned off the player. "I had a flash back."

"Shit. What the fuck were you doing over there?"

"Carter was listening to one of their songs. I just saw red. Scared the shit out of me."

"The one that goes, you don't know how you've touched my life?"

"Yeah." AJ looked at Denaun. "How'd you know that?"

"You don't remember? Fuck, Alex, I was with you. That's the song Tina had playing when we found her body. Is it Carter's solo?"

"No." AJ got a queasy look on his face. "It's Marshall's."
-----
End of Chapter Three

Questions, comments, and concerns about my sanity should go to granitite@yahoo.com
Choose Your Poison at www.angelfire.com/weird/cobalite/index3.html 
~ When I look into the mirror, and see a face I don't recognize, I am no longer surprised.