Prologue:

“Watch me, Daddy! Watch me! I can swing higher then you!”

“No way, ace! You could never swing higher then your dad!”

“Uh huh! Watch me!”

The echoing of innocent giggles in his mind jarred him from the restless slumber he’d unwillingly fallen into late the night before. Sleep was hard to come by now as he hadn’t been able to sleep much during the past few days, or rather much at all since everything had started. His body was slowly and painfully becoming immune to the effects of insomnia, so as he slipped back into the land of the living, he was able to completely ignore the splitting bouts of pain in all areas of his head. Thus of which left him aware of the fact that his face was soaked with a warm, salty liquid. Tears. Tears that had seemed to not once stop flowing since this began and could be brought on by the simple thinking of a faint memory. Instead of opening his eyes, he squeezed them even tighter together and felt the wet beads slide down both cheeks at an angle, pass each ear, and fall onto the royal blue cotton pillow case. Sleep for him was no longer peaceful, but plagued with dreams of memories and nightmares of fear.

Whimpering quietly as he worked to control his slowly becoming labored breathing, he brought a numb hand up to his concealed blood shot eyes and held it there, not able to erase the image he had been dreaming about from his mind. No matter what happened in the end, he knew it would always be forever etched in the back of his mind. As would all dreams and memories. Dry lips parting, he drew in a shaky breath of air and held it for several seconds on end before finally blowing it back out. His eyes were beginning to sting and he found himself rubbing at them furiously, attempting to wipe the salty wetness away. It only caused the skin of his upper cheeks to become irritated and his hand dropped to his side.

A source of heat across his whole upper half brought his eyes unwillingly open. He was forced to squint as rays of sunshine poured in through the open draped window across the room. And as if mocking him, the sun bathed him and only him in it's splendid bright light. Yes, it felt like mockery to him. Brightness was supposed to mean cheery, but he was encased in a dark world full of sadness, confusion, and helplessness. Anything bright seemed wrong to him. He could find no way to smile, no way to laugh, but he found many ways to cry. Too many ways and reasons. With all of the guilt weighing down on his chest like a ton of bricks, how could he not?

His back was aching and that brought about a new set of emotions. He didn’t know how to react to pain anymore, his feelings were out of whack. But the dull pain sent signals to his brain that caused him to struggle to sit up. He groaned. And now his temples began to throb against his skull, sending waves of discomfort to his brain. Throwing the sheet and down comforter away from his body, he rose from the bed and felt his feet hit the cold, carpeted floor with a light, quiet thump. The bathroom was located across the room, only feet away, yet it seemed to take an eternity to get there. He just couldn't will his body to move any faster. It was as if he felt himself dying. But at last his feet came in contact with the even colder spanish-style tiled flooring and he made his way toward the shower seperate from the bath, stripped himself of his boxers, reached in to turn the water on as hot as his body could withstand and stepped in.

Within moments the water was scalding and steam was enveloping the bathroom in it's entirety. It brought him little relief, though. Maybe only soothed the aching of his muscles and joints if even that. The water washed down on him, sending a continuous stream of droplets in all directions on his body. He never noticed himself numbly reaching for the soap and lathering it upon himself, nor did he watch it rinse away. The next thing he knew, he was stepping out of the steam-filled bathroom and back into the master bedroom, towel wrapped around his waste. A total of seven and a half minutes had rolled by from the time he had stepped into the shower to the time he had stepped back into the bedroom. It was becoming a record time for him.

For the first time since he had woken up, he realized that Kelly had not been lying in bed next to him. It didn't seem to phase him though as his wife was usually awake before him or he just didn't sleep at all and was awake when she came downstairs. This morning, however, his wife had awaken before him. As odd as it seemed, he couldn't remember if she had been in bed asleep by the time he came in and finally succombed to sleep himself. She didn't sleep much now either. More then him, but not much at all.

Slipping on a pair of baggy grey sweats, socks, and a light tank, he soon found himself leaving the safe haven of the bedroom and walking down the hall towards the stairs. The house was eerily quiet; as hard as he strained his ears and held his breath, he couldn't hear any other sound besides that of his own pounding heart. He began to worry where Kelly was. And as he made a quick stop by the guest room where his mother had been staying, he didn't even find her in there. He left her room and descended the stairs quickly. The spacious living-room was empty and much to his distress. So he crossed the length of the living-room, eyes set on the entrance to kitchen, and walked through its doorway.

There he froze, his breath falling short of complete. His clouded brown eyes clouding over even more in confusion. He immediately spotted Kelly and his mother seated at the tiny kitchen table, big enough for four. He would have noticed his wife's blotchy cheeks and swollen red eyes, but he became distracted at the fact that his family wasn't alone in the kitchen. It arose no question to his mind as to who this other man and woman were. He'd seen them more then he had wished in the past weeks . Both dressed in casual suits, hands clasped behind their backs, drew back as he entered the kitchen. Their facial expressions were somber and for the first time, he didn't know how to read them. Fear rose in his throat, a knot tightening in his stomach. "What's going on?" he struggled to get his voice to project. Something was not right with this picture. It was too early for them to be there. They never came over that early. But he never waited for them to answer as panic snaked it's way thoughout his body. He shot his attention to his wife when he heard her whimper and he finally noticed her appearance and demeanor. The tears that had already stained her flushed cheeks and new ones that were brimming her eyes. His mother sat beside her, clutching his wife's hand tightly.

His face paled as he visibly watched his wife shaking from her seat. "Alex..." she whispered, her voice clogged and tears slipping from her eyes. "T-they...found Dylan."

For a moment he was about to jump and shot for joy with a renewed happiness, but the moment was short lived and his felt his knees grow weak. His hand flew out to the doorframe to steady his quickly failing balance. "Then why are you crying?" he asked stupidly, his own tears returning to their spot and escaping down his cheeks. He already knew the answer to that. He could feel it stabbing at his heart, but he didn't want to believe it. No, this couldn't be the way it would end up, and he found himself shaking his head hastily, his breathing becoming labored again.

"Mr. McLean," the woman spoke, stepping towards him and offering a comforting hand.

But he cowered away from her touch as if it would burn his skin all the way down to his bones. "No..." he whispered , clentching his eyes shut. "No! He's not, damnit! No!"

"Mr. McLean, we're sorry-" It was the male who spoke this time.

"You're wrong! You're both wrong!" he screamed admist the sobs that broke out from his wife's mouth, glaring hatefully, the tears blurring his vision. "He's not gone! Damnit, no! Oh God no, please!!!"

"Oh Alex," his mother cried, jumping up from her seat and rushing towards him. He never saw her reach him, though, as he felt his legs buckeling beneath him and a sharp pain to his forehead sent him spiraling into the dark depths of unconsciousness.

Chapter 1:

~One Week Before~

"But seriously, if you titled a two and half hour play "How The Chicken Crossed The Road", the truth of the matter is, noone in Hell would pay their money to come see it. Now they might pay to have it destroyed," AJ chuckled with a humored expression as he sat at his perch upon the edge of his desk, staring out over the group of faces that were laughing with him. "So, Shawn, to your question of can the school's next annual play be titled, "How The Chicken Crossed The Road", the answer is no."

"Aw, but c'mon, Mr. McLean! I think it would be a hit!" Shawn protested with a grin, slouching in his seat and tapping the pen he was holding against the surface of the tiny desk. Several heads around the sophomore nodded in agreement.

"And you all obviously want to see me get fired," AJ replied. He eyed the clock that was mounted on the wall located above the classroom doorway. "Now, you all know that the One Acts Festival and contests are coming up soon, just in a matter of weeks. So noone can stop you from writing and performing a comedy about a chicken crossing a road. I'll even support it, mostly for the fact that my job won't be riding on it like the annual play," he joked, placing all of his weight against his hands as he leaned back. "I could even help you turn it into a humorus musical. So knock yourself out with that project."

"Dude, you rock Mr. McLean," Shawn spoke just as the bell let out a shrill prolonged ring.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," AJ answered with mock arrogance. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let all of you out of here without giving you homework first." He hopped off his desk and walked around to the other side to sit down in the swirly chair, followed by rounds of nonpleased groans at the mention of such work. "I want you all to go home tonight and start thinking about what you want to write for your two minute monologue. Remember it can be a drama, comedy, tragedy, just about anything you can think of. Come to class tomorrow with a written beginning of your monologue and be prepared to discuss it with me. I will be picking a select few to read what they have written so far in front of the class."

AJ sat back in his leather chair as the group of twenty five students filed out through the narrow doorway, joining the sea of fellow students eager to leave the confines of the school building and head home to enjoy freedom for the rest of the day. He, on the other hand, had another hour before he could let himself leave. Looking over the cluttered desk, a groan emitted from his lips at the sight of the mess. Tests, quizzes, assignments, and other miscellaneous items spread out over the whole desk. His teaching skills might have been great, but when it came to organization, he failed big time in that area.

AJ sighed as he rubbed at his temples, then pushed several stacks of papers off to one side while in search of his computer's mouse, only to find that the wireless object had somehow ended up in the trash can next to where he sat. He reached for it and set it back onto the desk's wood surface, preparing to go through the tedious task of entering grades and assignments into the system, grading tests from the previous week, and then finally doing a clean sweep of the room before he could leave. All of which he hoped to finish in an hour. The same routine 3 times a day, five days a week. A typical day that was non different from any other day in his teachering career.

One might think that he lived quite the hectic life still just by looking at his desk, but that was far from the truth. AJ's life had finally settled down, after countless years of his journey in the music business, living his life as part of the group the Backstreet Boys. But the group was long gone, and after they had parted ways, AJ found himself heading off to college to try to discover where it was he wanted to take his life. Music was and still was his number one love in life, but the art of drama had also been keen to his senses and he'd found such courses catching and keeping his interests. College had been a new thing to him also and had been quite the hard thing to get used to as he was still trying to settle down and get used to living a "normal" life. Now that had been a strange term to him. "Normal". It was pretty much a foreign term as he couldn't remember what living a "normal" life was like. Afterall, he'd spent his early teens and well into his early adulthood traveling around the country and the world as a famous singing super star. So he felt well out of place when it came time for him to take his life in a different direction and live outside the spotlight.

But with the determination his mother had raised him with and a long, drawn out period of time, AJ found himself adjusting better then he thought he ever would. There had been times, in the prime of his singing career and well on, when he thought he had no life outside the group. He didn't know how he would ever be able to deal with not being on a stage every day and not being in the eyes of the world. True, with the group splitting, it had been one of the most difficult times of his life, especially since he and another member had parted with bad feelings. But with an ending comes a new beginning and AJ had found that out firsthand. He couldn't deny the fact that he would miss not having the group around, but now that he was free from that, there were just so many opportunities suddenly available to him that hadn't been available before. And so he'd found himself heading off to college, much to his mother's surprise.

For quite some time, people treated him like the odd one out, made him feel like he didn't fit in. He was a performer. So what the heck was he doing in the college scene? For the first time in his life, AJ began to hate the "special" treatment he got from others because of his fame. And it almost caused him to get to the point where he just said "Screw it!" and quit. But then he truly wouldn't have had anything to fall back on if that was the case. Despite his immense struggles to adjust going from super star to college student, his determination sent him spiraling towards a new horizon.

It didn't take long for AJ to figure out he wanted to do something with the performing arts. He'd already had his take at singing and now had his chance at his other love: theater. Always goofing off when he was little and even doing a few small acting gigs in his early years, AJ had felt right at home when taking acting courses. Just like singing had been, acting came as a second nature and it was there that he earned the right of being treated as a normal, college student, and most of all...a normal person. His fame would always be there, but the fact that it had started to dwindle down didn't bother him one bit. He soon became quite popular with his fellow college actor students, and for the first time, he felt his fame had nothing to do with it.

Seeing his natural ability to interact and direct the other students and his outgoing personality, AJ's drama professor had approached him one evening with a serious suggestion that AJ should highly consider getting a degree for teaching drama. Of course, AJ had nearly laughed out loud in his professor's face at the thought of doing such a thing as he had never been keen of the idea of...well, teaching. Him, AJ McLean, teaching a class? Being the head person? The leader? His professor had to of been kidding him, but his professor had been dead serious and it made AJ stop and think for several weeks after. Thus of which lead him to where he was sitting today: at a desk in a large classroom with access to one of the best school theaters he had ever seen, and with the honor of having the title of "Best Drama Teacher". Yes, the world never would have thought this would happen. AJ sure hadn't. But he was content with his life and that's all that mattered to him. He couldn't have been happier with the classes he taught, and the students enrolled were awesome. Life was great.

"Daddy!"

AJ's head snapped up as he heard the classroom door open abruptly. Before he had time to react, a tiny brown-haired boy had run into the classroom and was now climbing onto his lap, causing AJ to nearly flip backwards in the chair. But AJ found himself grinning as he looked down at the mini mirror image of himself, the one whose big, brown eyes stared back up at his father with all of the innocence of the world. "Hey, ace!"

"Nana spiked my hair today!"

"After he begged me and begged me and finally drove me insane," another voice greeted with warm humor from the open doorway. AJ looked up from his estatic son to find his mother entering the room. He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly how his son could act at times before he finally got what he wanted. "And so, we used the rest of your hair gel."

"The rest of it?!" AJ cried out in shock and disbelief. "Mom, there was nearly a quarter of a bottle left. What do you mean you used the rest of it?"

"Oh, Dylan decided to venture into your bathroom while I was preparing his lunch," Denise shrugged with a smirk. "He came tearing down the stairs with the gel all over his face and hands and then proceeded to beg me to spike his hair. Hence the reason why there's none left."

"You know better then go into Daddy and Mommy's bathroom, Ace," AJ tried to scold his four year old son, but couldn't help letting an amused smile creep across his face.

"But Nana don't say no!" Dylan protested innocently.

"Nana doesn't know any better," AJ answered, giving his mother the same innocent look his son was giving him. Yes, AJ had taught his son well.

"Choose your words wisely, Alexander," Denise replied in an arrogant tone. Seeing she had stumped her son, she continued. "After all, I could have left the mess your son made in your bathroom for you to clean up when you got home. So I demand some respect!"

"Respect?" AJ coughed out, knowing his mother was by far playing with the situation. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" He teasingly saluted her.

"Can we see the stage?" Dylan interrupted suddenly. The same question popped up everytime AJ's son came to visit him at the school. AJ wasn't sure why Dylan had such a fascination with seeing the stage everytime, but deep inside, it made him very proud to know that his son seemed to be following in his footsteps by having an interest in theater arts and singing. Afterall, the little boy was always putting on a show for his parents and singing in his bedroom to an audience made up of his large collection of stuffed animals. One of AJ's favorite past times at home was standing in the doorway of his son's bedroom and silently watching him sing his little heart out. And man, did his son have a set of lungs. AJ had his heart set on getting his son into acting and singing lessons once he was a little older, but he refused to push his son into it. "Please, Daddy?" Dylan begged again, drawing AJ out of his deep thoughts. The little boy was growing impatient.

"Sure, I don't see why not," AJ answered, helping Dylan slide off his lap so he in return could stand up and fish for the set of keys in his pocket, one of which unlocked the door that led into the school theater from the drama classroom. By the time AJ had found the correct key, Dylan was already waiting by the door and grinning excitedly from ear to ear. "Care to join us, mother?" AJ called jokingly back over his shoulder.

"Might as well, seeing as I don't have anything else to do. You know me, I live quite the boring life," Denise sighed with a warm smile. She followed her son and grandson through the door and immediately found herself enveloped in an eerie darkness. "Would help if we could see. I swear, Alex, how do you manage to move around back here without breaking a leg?"

"We turn on the lights," AJ replied with sarcasm, knowing his mother could see his grin through the darkness, and just imagining her look brought him humor. "Hold up a sec and I'll be right back."

"Your daddy is grounded, young man," Denise spoke down to her grandson with a shake of her head. A few seconds passed before a short series of echoed clicks sounded throughout the backstage area and they found themselves bathed in bright yellow light.

"I heard that!" AJ's voice echoed from beyond the curtains. Dylan took off running with his grandmother following. "All sounds travel very far in a place like this, quiet or not."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smarty pants."

"You're just terribly upset that you can't ground me anymore."

"No, I'm terribly upset because I didn't ground you enough when you were younger."

"Say whatever you need to say that makes you feel better."

"Alexander-"

"Look at me, Nana! I look like daddy!" Dylan called out from the opposite side of the large stage that his father and grandmother were standing on.

AJ dropped the argument and looked over in the direction where his son was. "Wait, you can't play with that, ace!" he called back, seeing that Dylan was holding one of the school's more nicer microphones up to his mouth as if he were singing. AJ grumbled as he hurried over to his son, knowing that the school's concert choir had been rehearsing in the theater earlier that day and had left one of the microphones out on the stage. "Sorry, buddy, but daddy would get in big trouble by the principal if something happened to this microphone."

Dylan seemed dissappointed for a slight moment that he wouldn't be getting to play with the microphone, but shrugged the thought off and began to run wildly around the stage with his arms stretched out, doing his impression of the sounds that planes make. AJ chuckled as he walked away from his son and motioned for Denise to follow him down to the first row of theater seats.

"Day went well?" Denise asked as she settled into a seat next to AJ.

"As usual," AJ mumbled, nodding his head as he slouched down into his seat. "A sophmore in my Advanced drama III class today tried to convince me to title the school's next annual play as, "How The Chicken Crossed The Road". I said NO."

Denise stiffled a laugh. "Your students take on your personality and your antics."

"How so?"

"If I do remember correctly, Alex, when you were six, you wrote a little story coincidently entitled, "How The Chicken Crossed The Road". It consisted of one long run-on sentence and you said you were going to turn it into a play one day."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," AJ answered thoughtfully. His face soon turned into a scowl. "Then Grams and Gramps' old mut pooped on it and you threw it away!"

"Yes, you were so distraught."

"What six year old wouldn't be? It wasn't my fault I didn't have the best memory then and couldn't re-write the thing word for word."

"You were so mad at that dog that your grandpa caught you tryin' to poop on the dog's head later that night."

"Oh God," AJ blushed. "You just had to mention that..."

"I couldn't resist."

"Damn you, mother. I don't know about you. Sometimes I think you purposely try to embarass me by bringing up embarassing childhood memories."

"It's my job," Denise answered in a coo, pinching her son's cheek. AJ swatted at his mother's hand with furled eyebrows. "I'd have thought you would have been used to it by now."

"Get real," AJ chuckled, looking up towards the stage. He noticed Dylan nearing the trap door near the edge of the stage and he felt a pang of nervousness stab at him. They'd been having issues with the stage's trap door lately and any too much pressure could set off a trigger and send it flying open. AJ had to remind himself to talk to the school board about getting it looked at and hopefully fixed soon. "Ace, stay away from the trap door there."

"Yep, yep, yep!" Dylan giggled in reply as he hopped around. "Look at me, Daddy! I can dance just like you!"

"That's great, Ace," AJ smiled.

"So, I saw the birthday card Howie sent for Dylan," Denise suddenly mentioned.

The smile instantly faded from AJ's face and his features grew dark. "I don't know why he even bothered sending it."

"So you threw it away? Alex..."

"What? There was no reason for him to send it!"

"Don't you think it's about time to get over this petty fight that's been going on between the two of you since the group went it's seperate ways? I mean, hon, it's been years-"

"I couldn't care less if it's been five years or fifty," AJ growled in frustration as he looked down at the microphone in his hands to divert his attention away from his mother's. The device brought back a flood of memories just by looking at it and for a moment, he felt a sense of emptiness course through him and he longed to once again be on the stage doing what he had loved doing for so many years of his life.

"Man, is this whack or what?!" the young and highly immature fifteen year old form of Nick Carter babbled with a rush of excitement as he jumped around seventeen year old Alexander McLean, better known as AJ to everyone around him.

"Yeah, really whack," AJ mumbled in reply, his back now facing the young blonde.

"All those people! Can you believe it?!"

"Uh-huh..."

The two teens stood in one of the backstage rooms of the venue they were scheduled to perform at that night; Nick was hyped up on who knew what (Nick said it was from a pure adreneline rush, but AJ liked to claim otherwise), and AJ, well, he was acting rather mysteriously and this sparked Nick's curiosity quickly. He stopped jumping around and eyed AJ oddly. "What are you doing?" he finally asked, trying to peer over AJ's shoulder.

AJ refused to budge. "It's none of your business," he sneered.

"Aw, c'mon, Aje! Tell me! I promise I won't tell anyone!" Nick begged, manuevering to step around AJ, but his bandmate kept his back to him.

"YOU keep a promise?!" AJ nearly laughed outloud at such a statement coming from the blonde, but he shrugged. "Why the Hell should I tell you?"

"Dude, is this a trick question?" Nick asked with an utmost seriousness in his tone of voice.

"You moron," AJ grumbled.

"Please?!" Nick whined.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Sure, if you really wanna know."

"Tell me!"

"You wanna know?"

"Yes!"

"Positive?"

"Yes!"

"Absolutely, positively-"

"AJ!"

"Ok, I'm putting super glue on the handle of Kevin's mic," AJ answered simply and showed Nick that he indeed was holding the microphone in his left hand that Kevin was going to use that night, and in his right hand, he held a small tube of super glue. It's contents were smeared sloppily on one side of the microphone's handle and AJ was grinning devilishly.

But Nick's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Are you nuts?!" he screeched. "Kev will kill you for that!"

"Kevin can kiss my ass!"

"You'll be dead meat if he finds out it was you who did it!"

"He's not going to find out it was me," AJ growled, backing Nick against the closest wall. "Is he!"

"N-no, of course not."

"Because this is our secret right? I mean, you said you can keep a secret and afterall, I'd hate to have to-"

"Alright, I promise I won't tell him!"

"Damn straight," AJ chuckled as they heard a pair of footsteeps quickly approaching. AJ looked at Nick and Nick looked at AJ, both dreading it to be Kevin Richardson, the oldest band member, heading their way. AJ felt his heart race a tad until, finally, he watched the short Latin form of Howie Dorough come waltzing through the doorway. He sighed in relief. "Hey, D!"

"I finally found you two goons!" Howie instantly greeted, rolling his eyes. He, too, looked relieved as he stepped closer. "Where the heck have you guys been?"

"Right here?" Nick answered stupidly.

"Well, Lou's out there having a freakin' cow-"

Nick giggled childishly and AJ elbowed him in the ribs.

"And now Kevin's 'bout ready to have a cow himself because Lou's giving him a bunch of crap, blaming him and saying he needs to be more responsible because none of us could find you two around this place and we have to go onstage in less then ten minutes! What are you doing anyway?"

"Uh, well..." AJ bit down on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Nick couldn't find his mic and so we came back here to see if this was where it was placed, and we noticed that your's and Kevin's mics are here also, so we were going to bring them to you."

"Oh, ok. But it's your butts that are in trouble with Lou for dissappearing," Howie replied, buying AJ's lie faster then he would have thought Howie would. "Here, give me my mic and you take Kevin's to him. I ain't talking to him again until our first break."

"Howie, no-" But AJ never had a chance to stop Howie before his bandmate had already taken hold of the microphone "rigged" with the super glue. AJ wanted to smack himself in the face as his cheeks grew red and Nick's eyes grew wide.

"What?" Howie asked with confusion, pausing for a moment. He eyed his younger bandmates strangely.

"Nothing..." AJ muttered.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, perfectly fine. Just got a case of the nerves..."

"Loosen up. And anyway, you don't have time to worry about a case of the nerves. We're due on stage in three." And with that, Howie jogged out of the room, completely unaware of what had actually just happened between his hand and the microphone he was holding.

Nick laughed nervously, but more so with a sense of humor as he turned to look at AJ who was staring at the doorway their Latin bandmate had just made an exit out of. "Duuuuude...you are so busted..."

"Shut up, ass wipe," AJ growled.

"How come you didn't tell him?"

"Like I had the damn chance to! Shit!"

"You're dead, dude..."

"Shut up, grab your mic, and let's go before Lou starts deducting our tardiness from our paychecks."

"Dead...so dead..."

*****

"Holy shit! That hurts!"

AJ winced as he slumped against a wall, listening to the cries of pain echoing from Howie in an enclosed room somewhere backstage. He felt a pang of guilt stab his chest as the other three present band members waited around anxiously. Brian stood in a well of confusion, unsure of whether he should laugh at the situation or be worried and Nick snickered quietly to himself as he kept stealing glances at AJ, an action that bluntly told everyone he and AJ knew something they didn't know.

But Kevin was a whole different story. The tall Kentuckian's emerald eyes were darkly casted from their usual shine as he towered over AJ and Nick."What's the meaning of this, huh?" he growled in frustration as beads of persperation still gathered at both temples. He paced in front of the youngest members of the group with his hands placed on his hips, eyes narrowed. Nick giggled spontaneously and Kevin looked about ready to jump his throat and strangle him to death with his bare friends. "I don't find this the least bit funny, Nick! Howie's hand could be seriously hurt because of your immaturity!"

Nick immediately fell silent as his mouth dropped open in shock. Kevin was blaming him for this?! "WHAT?!" he screamed, his voice cracking as his blue orbs grew darker. He couldn't believe he was being blamed for AJ's doing.

"Lower your voice! I'm not yelling at you and I don't appreciate you yelling at me!" Kevin answered louder, stepping an inch closer to the blonde.

"Uh, yeah, actually you are yelling at him, cuz..." Brian interrupted quietly.

"Stay out of it, Brian."

"Dang..."

"Argh! Don't! Shit!" Howie's distressed voice pierced the air again.

"What the heck were you thinking?" Kevin fumed, directing his attention back on to Nick. "Do you even realize what you did was not only stupid and immature, but cruel and dangerous? You better hope to God that Howie isn't seriously hurt because of your asanine prank!"

"But I didn't do it!" Nick protested.

"Grow up and take responsibility for your actions, Nick!"

"Dangit, I didn't do it! AJ did!"

It was AJ's turn to drop his mouth in shock. "No I didn't!" he burst, glaring at Nick and feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again. He was going to pound Nick for attempting to blow his cover. The little shit...

"You did too!"

"I did not!"

"Don't think you can blame AJ for this!" Kevin reprimanded. "This was really stupid of you to do, Nick. Really stupid."

"But I didn't-"

"Boys!" Lou Pearlman shouted above all of the noise going on backstage, admist the screams of the crowd of fans awaiting the group's second arrival on stage that night. The four boys looked over to see the large man striding towards them and were surprised to see that he looked frighteningly calm for the situation at hand.

"Is Howie alright?" Brian immediately asked, shrinking back as Lou approached them.

"Yes, for now he is. The paramedics are giving him mild pain killers so he can perform in the rest of tonight's show. He'll need to head to an ER later tonight after the concert to get his left hand checked out again," Lou explained, all the while looking at Nick. The blonde grimaced, expecting him to jump at him and start yelling, but that never happened. Instead, Lou's voice came out in a low and dangerous tone. "I am very dissappointed in your actions tonight, Nickolas."

"But-"

"Not only have you acted foolishly, you hurt Howard physically and intentionally. That is by far unacceptable, young man."

"But Lou-"

"I would appreaciate it if you do not interrupt me again." Lou sighed," I am getting tired of how your attitude has been this past week, Nickolas. You need to start showing respect to myself and your bandmates."

"But-"

"I will see to it that Howard's medical bill because of your foolish actions is taken out of your next paycheck and I expect you to apologizre to Howard the first chance you get."

"But-"

"Not another word about it, Nickolas."

"But, shit! I didn't do it!" Nick whined as the group watched Lou walk away in the same direction he had come from. Nick was near throwing a tantrum at that point as his hands balled into fists at his sides. His faces turned a darker shade of red.

"Don't you swear! You're too young!" Kevin scolded.

"But I didn't do that to Howie's mic, damnit! Why won't you believe me?!"

"Stop swearing!"

"Shut up!"

"You're the one who needs to shut up!"

"You can't tell me what the Hell to do, so you shut up!"

"Grow up, Nick!"

AJ snickered quietly to himself, forgetting for a moment that his microphone prank had caused damage to one of his bandmates. He shot an amused glance in Nick's direction, being sure to not be blunt about it like Nick always was. 'Dumbass...this is what you get. I told ya not to tell them I did it!' AJ's mind cackled, watching Nick attempting to get up in Kevin's face, but failing as Kevin pushed him away. Served the blonde right... AJ wondered if Nick would ever learn.

"I suggest you calm down now, Nick," Kevin growled through clentched teeth. "None of us feel like dealing with your immature attitude right now and you're in enough trouble as it is. So chill out!"

"But-"

"Nick, let it go, bud," Brian interrupted his friend before Nick buried himself deeper.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!!!"

AJ chuckled in a humored manner as he turned the microphone over in his hands several times. He remembered that incident perfectly. It had been quite a night. How unsuspecting Howie had been on stage was what got to AJ the most. Minutes into the opening song, Howie had attempted to switch his microphone to his other hand, but much to his surprise, no such thing had happened. Looking confused for a moment and pausing slightly in his movements as he continued to sing, Howie tried to switch the microphone again. No luck a second time. Soon he was dancing around on stage, waving the microphone around wildly in the air, trying to drop it from his hand. His facial expressions clearly showed he was confused and panicking. Nick nearly busted up laughing as he tried to concentrate on his own dance moves and lyrics. AJ himself wanted to laugh at the way Howie was acting, but also felt the frustration get to him as he silently wished that Kevin had gotten hold of the microphone before Howie did. Meanwhile, Brian and Kevin had watched their panicking bandmate with complete and utter confusion.

During one of their speaking parts towards the crowd three songs later, Brian had gone over to Howie and quietly asked him what was going on. Howie nearly yelled that he couldn't get the microphone away from his hand, like it was glued to his hand. AJ, who had been standing to Howie's left at the time, chuckled at the statement. Brian was left the task of calming Howie down and convincing him to hold out until their break while Nick was wooing the crowd with his cute, adorableness. AJ had wanted to gag.

Of course, as soon as they were all backstage, Howie started yelling about his microphone being glued to his hand while he tugged helplessly at it. Kevin tried pulling it away but to no prevail. Lou, who was waiting for them backstage called for the paramedics that were at the venue due to instances with the fans at previous concerts. The paramedics immediately whisked Howie off into one of the rooms backstage to take a look at his hand, away from all of the commotion. Brian stood in confused silence, Kevin paced with worry, Nick giggled to himself like an idiot, and AJ had stood off byhimself, feeling guilty about what had happened.

Nick ended up getting blamed for the whole thing, which AJ had found to be completely hilarious. He tormented Nick about it for the next week, warning him to keep his mouth shut the next time. And even then, Nick still tried to claim that it had been AJ's doing, all of which got him in deeper with Lou and took away his privilages of free time activies for the remainder of the week. Nick's complaining annoyed Kevin to the point where he paid Nick's bodyguard to keep the blonde locked up in Brian and Nick's hotel room while the other's went out to see a movie. AJ had even gone so far to completely convince Howie that it was Nick who rigged the microphone with the super glue and Howie didn't speak to the youngest bandmate for two weeks. That was one moment AJ knew he would never forget and he still hadn't told Howie it was he who did it, not Nick. But there was no chance for him to tell Howie the truth now, afte all of these years even if did matter still. AJ no longer spoke to Howie. He hadn't said a word to the Latino since the group split up and went their seperate ways and that was something that AJ was perfectly fine with.

"Alex, are you even listening?"

AJ looked towards his mother to see her giving him a rather odd and questioning look. He bit down on his bottom lip for a moment, before shaking his head to clear his mind. "I'm sorry," he replied in a sheepish tone. "What were you saying?"

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Alex...your attention span can be so short."

"I'm getting old, what can I say?"

"You're not even forty yet. Don't talk about being old until you actually are."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Being old is a rough subject for you to talk about, huh?" AJ grinned. Denise slapped her son on the shoulder. "Ouch!"

"Teach you to show some respect."

"What was it that you were saying a minute ago?" AJ finally repeated.

Denise looked at her son with sorrow. "I was suggesting that maybe you should suck in your pride a little and give Howie a phone call."

"No way in Hell."

"But you guys used to be really close-"

"Yeah, well, things change over time."

"How could a good friendship go to such waste?"

"It just did," AJ growled in response as he stood up from his seat. "You can forget about convincing me to call him, cause it's not gonna happen. As for the stupid birthday card, he shouldn't of sent it. Hell if I know what his purpose was in sending it. He's an asshole-"

"Daddy!" Dylan suddenly yelled from where he was standing in the middle of the stage. "That's a bad word! You shouldn't say that!"

AJ immediately softened when he heard his son scold him. "You know what? You're right, Ace. That is a bad word and daddy should not be saying it. I'm sorry," he answered, offering his son an apologetic smile. When it seemed to have satisfied the four year old, AJ turned towards his mother again, ignoring the dissapproving look that had washed across her face. "This conversation is over, Mom. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"It's a real shame you feel that way," Denise answered, shaking her head. She stood up also, gathering her purse from the floor next to her feet. "I'll be heading out now, I guess."

"Mom, I didn't mean it like that..."

"No, it's ok. I've got things to do anyway."

"Alright."

"Dylan wants you to take him to McDonalds. I told him you would," Denise explained, fishing in her purse for the set of car keys. Finding them seconds later, she looked up at her son with wonder, hating how he looked so frustrated at the moment, not to mention angry. There was something deep in his dark eyes that caught Denise's attention. What exactly it was, Denise couldn't tell and she pushed the thought away. "Nana's leaving, bubba! Come give me a hug!"

"Nana come to McDonald's with me and Daddy!" Dylan pouted as he climbed off the stage and ran into Denise's arms. He hugged onto his grandma lovingly and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, grinning his toothy grin that could win anyone's heart. Unfortunately, it couldn't win Denise's this time.

"Sorry, bubba. Nana has some plans tonight. Plus, your daddy wants to spend time with you and he won't let me come," Denise explained easily, knowing her grandson would buy into anything she said. She had to put it simply so his tiny mind could understand.

"Daddy's being poo poo?" Dylan whispered into his grandmother's ear.

"Yes, he's being really poo poo," Denise answered with a warm smile. "Tell ya what, ask your daddy about the chicken story he wrote and about his grandpa's dog."

"That would be your cue to leave," AJ interrupted in a gruff voice. "Stop trying to corrupt my son's impressionable mind."

"I do it out of pure, unconditional love," Denise answered seriously.

"Mom..."

"Alright, alright...I'm leaving."

"I'll call you tomorrow," AJ replied as he hoisted his son onto his shoulders. "Thanks for watching Dylan today. I owe ya one."

"You say that all the time, Alex," Denise called back as she headed toward the exit door in the very back of the theater. "Besides, he's my grandson. You don't owe me anything."

AJ sighed, tilting his head back to look up at his son. "Well, Ace, I dunno about you..." he started slowly, rubbing his stomach with one hand. "But I'm kinda hungry. I was thinking we could go to McDonalds...but if you don't want to-"

"Yeah! Let's go to McDonalds, Daddy!" Dylan squealed, bouncing up and down.

AJ groaned. "Yes, sir. But first, we gotta clean daddy's classroom. Think you can help me with that?"

"It'll cost ya!"

"Man, how much?"

"A cheesburger happy meal!"

"A cheeseburger happy meal?! You little blackmailer!"

"And...two toys!"

"Man...alright, I guess I can deal with that."

"Daddy?" Dylan asked.

"Hmmm?"

"What's a blackmailer?"

"Nothing, ace."