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

His leather jacket couldn't help the cold that cut through his body. His hands shook as he took the cigarette Chris lit. "You may have noticed, but I have the worst taste in men."

"Sorry." His lighter flared again, and there was another burning point of light in the darkness. "Are we on the roof of my hotel because you're planning to jump or are we just being dramatic?"

"Dramatic, I think." Marshall exhaled, watched the smoke fade. "I hate it when Nick's right. What the was Alex thinking?"

"Don't you mean what were they thinking?"

"We both knew what Justin was thinking." Marshall looked at Chris for a few seconds. "I don't think I was ever that eager to sleep with you."

"You're not a twenty year old kid who doesn't know any better."

"I used to be." Marshall leaned back, staring at the stars. "But I hope I was never stupid enough to sleep with my crush's ex-boyfriend's lover."

"We sound like a bad soap opera." Chris gave a bitter laugh. "As The World Turns, and inter-band relations crumble."

"I’m not going to sleep with you, though, so it's not really a soap opera." Marshall stood, and walked to the edge of the roof. "I'm an idiot for thinking it meant anything to him. Maybe it's time to switch back to women."

"Like they're less trouble." And Marshall knew he was thinking of Dani. They'd been friends first but not since. Maybe it's time to change that.

"I thought maybe he actually loved me." Marshall leaned over the railing. "You hear me, Alex?" His voice was at a scream. "You were supposed to love me!"

"Fuck, Marshall, don’t do that." Chris pulled him back. "In the past hour, we've both had enough booze to pickle an elephant. You want me to have to explain why you took a nosedive?"

"No." Marshall kicked a bottle over the edge. "Can someone drive me home?"
-----
They brought him to Howie's instead. Chris was the only thing keeping Marshall standing when the door opened. "What the hell?"

"Hi, Howie." Marshall swayed a little. "You were wrong, you know."

"About what?" Howie looked at Marshall, then back at Chris. These were not happy drunks.

Marshall stumbled on the doorway, and landed on the floor. He looked up at Howie accusingly. "You said…you said.. Alex wouldn't mess around with Justin. You're not suppos'd to lie to me."

Howie stared at the lump of miserable singer on his floor, then at Chris. "Is it true?

"Yeah." Chris looked behind him as the bodyguard honked. "Take care of him, okay D?"

"Where are you going?" If anything would flip their switch back on, it would have been this.

"I'm going back to the hotel, finish drinking myself stupid, and wait for Justin to come crawling back." Chris stepped over Marshall. "He didn't actually…you know, cheat on me, so I'm gonna forgive him."

He watched Chris go, then looked down at Marshall curled up in a ball on his entry rug. "Come on, Marshall. We'll stick you in the spare bedroom."

"Lemme alone."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."
-----
"Just leave me alone!" He had a killer migraine to top off the mammoth guilt. "I don't want to see, hear, or talk to any of you today, a'right?"

"What the fuck is his problem today?" Peter stopped pounding on the door.

"He came back here last night. Alone." Rondell was in the doorway across the hall. "He was crying."

"Alex doesn't cry." He could remember too many injuries accompanied by screams but dry eyes. "What happened?"

"I'm thinking horrible, painful break up."

"Over what?" Peter reached up to pound on the door again.

"Man, he didn't tell you?" Rondell grabbed his hand to keep him from knocking. "He fucked around with Justin Timberlake. I figure Marshall found out."

"Shit." He rested his forehead against the wall. "Just when you think he's out of the woods, he goes and fucks everything up."
-----
"You sure they're not together?" Kevin was watching Marshall and Chris talking. The video they were shooting together, (actually, half the industry was here) was on a break, and to Kevin, they looked a little too cozy.

"I’m sure. Chris is with Justin. They used to act like that all the time, before. You've always seen them on or off. This is just friendly."

"They're just so… touchy feely." Kevin had to be sure, and only Howie knew them both well enough to tell.

"Kevin, get your head off my shoulder and think about it." Kevin sat up, embarrassed. "It's just a boy band thing. We act like that all the time. God, that's why there are so many rumors about all of us."

Chris could feel Kevin's eyes on him. "He keeps staring at me. He realizes you're not Nick's age, right?"

"Kevin likes to pretend he's the only thing standing between us and the big bad world." Marshall almost smiled. "Is it a bad thing I still want to slit your boyfriend's throat?"

"I think so."

"With instincts to kill Nsync don't get me started."

"Hey!"

"It just drives me nuts. Why? Why Justin of all people to fuck around with?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Justin was towards them.

"I can't." Marshall got up and headed in the opposite direction.
-----
Two weeks later, and Peter was sick of watching AJ self-destruct. On the bus, or at the hotel, he pretended to be all right, but everyone had noticed he'd stopped eating and sleeping again. Their tour had another month on it. Judging on how tired and thin his friend was, Peter would have put money on him not lasting another week

The opening of 'Ain't Nothing' played, and the crowd waited for Johhny No-Name to start a rap few of them knew had actually been written by a Backstreet Boy.

For the first time in Peter's memory, AJ missed his cue. Pale and sweaty, in front of thousands, AJ crumpled to the ground. "Oh fuck." The music cut out as the rest of D12 encircled their fallen brother.
-----
When there was nothing else on, they watched MTV. It was automatic after so long in the business. So, having nothing better to do, the five of them were laying around Nick's house, talking about 'Drowning.'

"Ohh, News alert. Wonder who got in trouble this time." Nick cranked the volume up.

"This is an MTV news bulletin. Tonight, rapper Johnny No-Name collapsed on stage during D12's Atlantic City concert. Group spokesman Proof tells us Johnny is being stabilized and his condition is a result of overwork. We were also given the following statement to read. 'You did this to him, you fix him.' When asked to explain, Proof would only reveal that Johnny had recently undergone a painful breakup. MTV will bring you more news as it becomes available."

Marshall stared at the screen, unblinking. They'd showed images of the paramedics carrying AJ out on a stretcher. It seemed like a bad dream, a nightmare from another reality. "I…"

"Marshall, you okay?" Brian touched his arm.

"What to you think, am I okay? They think I did this to him, and maybe their right. But he cheated on me, not the other way around. I shouldn't get on a plane and go down there." He looked to his best friend. "Right, Howie?"

"No, you shouldn't." Howie tried not to smile.

"But you're going to go anyway." Nick sounded a little disgusted. "I can tell by the look on your face."

"Leave him alone, Nick." Kevin was getting more than a little sick of this. "If Marshall wants to go save Johnny from himself, that's his choice."

"I'm not going anywhere." Yet.
-----
Justin groped blindly for the phone. "Hello?"

"Why?"

It was too early for questions like that. "Who is this?"

"It's Marshall."

Justin sat up, and looked at Chris, asleep beside him. He slipped out of bed, and walked into the hallway. "You want to know why?"

"Why him? Of all the people in the world glad to fuck you, why did you pick my lover? Was it some final slap in the face before you jumped in bed with Chris?"

"It's not like I dragged him kicking and screaming to my room. Alex came to me."

That hurt, more than he'd expected. "Why?"

"Get a new word, Marshall. I, uh.. You know he's in love with you, right?" Silence. "You didn't know."

"No."

"He was desperate to keep you. Alex seemed to honestly think you were going back to Chris. Hell, I thought it too."

"That's crazy."

"You're not dealing with rational people here. How long have I been chasing Chris? And in Alex's case, he talked about needing you. I didn't get half the shit he talked about, but… in our heads, sleeping together seemed the best way to get the men we loved. To keep them apart."

"Timberlake, you need to get some help, kid. That is seriously fucked up." Marshall had known AJ was a little off balance, but he'd always figured Justin was mostly sane.

"Whatever. We used each other, and at least I got what I wanted. Besides, have you ever been able to say no to him?"

Justin had a good point. Marshall bought a plane ticket.
-----
"Denise is on her way up." Peter sunk into one of the lobby chairs. "She's going to cut off my balls and feed them to me."

"Denise said that?" Swift snorted. "Man, she must be pissed. Guess we didn't take such good care of her little boy."

"Good care of him? This ain't our fucking fault. It's Tina's fault and," Rondell looked up as the doors opened. "It's his."

"He showed." Harry was surprised. "I didn't think he'd have the balls."

"You think he can fix this?" Denaun reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Because he's gotta be clueless if Alex hasn't asked for this."

"Someone has to tell him, or he's never going to understand why Alex is so screwed up." Peter looked at his groupmates, all of whom found their shoelaces fascinating. "And I guess it's gonna be me."

Marshall looked out of place among five burly black men. "Alright, I'm here. Where is he?"

Peter took the envelope from Denaun. "Come with me." He pushed open the door to AJ's room. "They told me the sedation should wear off soon."

"Fuck." Marshall crossed the room over to the bed. "Did I really do this to him?"

"You were just one last cut in a lifetime of wounds, so I wouldn’t stress it that much." Peter sat down, and stared at the ceiling. "I love Denise like she was my own mom, but if I got the chance, I'd kill his father. When Alex was thirteen, Bob pushed him down the stairs. They could hear him screaming three floors up. Someone finally called the cops. He didn’t cry then, but he cried for you."

"Alex doesn't cry." He took a seat opposite Peter.

"Bastard broke his fucking arm, and the courts ruled it a fucking accident. I got me a gun, told him if he ever laid a hand on Alex again, I'd blow his brains out. Alex is like my brother, and I'd do anything for him. Even get your scrawny white ass to take him back."

"I don't see why he thinks he needs me." Marshall watched the monitors beep. "Fuck, I'm just some guy they dress up in pretty costumes. I don't need some rapper landing himself in the hospital because of me."

"I'm not into this philosophical shit, but we talked to his shrink. All she'd do was give us this, and talk about privilege." He flashed the letter. "Then, I find out it was your solo playing when he found the body. She calls that the living embodiment of his nightmares, or shit like that."

"Living embodiment of his nightmares?" It sounded like the double talk Chris used spout in college. "What was in the letter?"

"I haven't read it. I mean, it's Tina's fucking suicide note. I couldn't." Peter set it down on the table. "Take care'a him. Or what I'll do to you will make shoving a gun in Bob's face seem tame. Understand?"

Marshall could tell Peter had been in a leadership role for too long. He sounded like Kevin. After he'd left the room, Marshall turned his attention back to AJ. "You're more fucked up than I ever imagine. It's sorta…"

One eye opened slowly. "A major turn off?"

"I was going to say endearing. You realize most people fuck around to destroy relationships."

"Why are you here?" AJ sat up, still too tired, too pale. It made Marshall nervous.

"Because as everyone keeps telling me, you're just a fucked up kid who's been though way too much. So… I'm thinking I'll forgive you for screwing Justin." He watched AJ's posture relax. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You have to read Tina's letter."

AJ took a shaky breath. "I can't. It's better not knowing."

"I'll read the damned thing to you then. I'm sick of your fucking nightmares." Marshall ripped open the envelope, and read it quietly to himself.

"What does it say?"

"It says…" He would lie. He'd told Peter he would take care of Alex. "It says she loved you, that she blames herself. She took the ring off so you would have something to remember her by."

AJ closed his eyes. "God. You gotta take me back, Marshall. I need you."

"I know." He crumpled the letter and shot it into the trash. "I guess I'll keep you, just to piss Nick off."

"Pissing off Carter is good." AJ smiled. "You ever wonder if we'd be different if I'd stayed in Florida, and you stayed in Detroit?"

"Sure, and I got it all figured out." Marshall leaned back, trying to keep a straight face. "You would be AJ McLean, Backstreet Boy, and I could be Eminem, member of D12. Except, I would have let Dre sign me as a solo artist first."

They looked at each other for a moment, and burst out laughing.

The End

Well, what do you think? 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.