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Chapter 52

AN: Huge thanks to Veronica for her help with ideas for this chapter! Also thanks to Anita for inspiring the joke that will no longer be funny because I took so damn long to write this chapter. :)


The best part of flying, Nick thought, as he followed the narrow aisle to the front of the plane, was landing. No, not the actual landing itself – he hated landings almost as much as he hated take-offs – but the end of the flight and the consoling feel of the ground beneath his feet as he stepped off the plane. He couldn’t wait to experience that feeling, but the passengers in front of him were taking their own sweet time getting to the exit of the plane. He couldn’t be too annoyed – they were an older couple, and with them was a little girl who couldn’t have been older than seven or eight.

“Look, sweetheart, there’s the pilot,” said the old man to the little girl, pointing up ahead of him. The little girl stood on her tip-toes to look; Nick, having the advantage of height, simply craned his neck a little to see past the short line of people in front of him. Sure enough, a man in a crisp, navy blue uniform and large pilot’s hat stood with a couple of the flight attendants just before the exit.

“I can’t see, Grandpa,” the child complained, but fortunately for her, it didn’t take long for the line to move ahead. Unfortunately for Nick, Gran, Gramps, and Girl blocked the whole aisle when they stopped to speak to the pilot, and there was no dodging them in such a narrow space. Fighting the urge to clear his throat loudly, he took a steadying breath and told himself to hold his horses; he didn’t have anywhere to be just then.

He watched with mild impatience as the pilot bent to shake the little girl’s hand, then pulled something small and white out of his pocket and offered it to her. A set of pilot’s wings, Nick saw. Cute. He vaguely remembered owning a pair as a child, a souvenir from his first airplane trip. He’d whimpered and whined for half the flight, his ears aching from the change in elevation, and spent the other half puking into the airsickness bags his mother had so valiantly held open for him. He couldn’t remember what had happened to the little plastic wings he’d received at the end of the flight, but he knew he’d never spent much time with them pinned to his t-shirt, pretending to be a pilot. Needless to say, that had never been one of his childhood career ambitions.

Yet as he watched Gramps kneel down to pin the plastic wings to the front of his granddaughter’s chest, he thought of Casey, whose dream was to become the human version of Star Fox himself, and when the trio in front of him had finally moseyed off the plane, he nodded to the pilot and asked, “Hey, you got any more of those little wing pins?”

“Sure,” replied the pilot, fishing in his pocket again. He placed another set of wings in Nick’s hand with a genial smile.

“Thanks,” Nick smiled back and pocketed the wings as he made his way off of the plane.

***

“Nick called me from his plane,” were the first words out of Casey’s mouth when Claire came to visit him after work that afternoon. Never mind the fact that she hadn’t been to see him in four days; never mind the fact that the last time she had visited, he’d been too ill to carry on a lucid conversation. Forget catching up; Nick’s phone call was top priority.

Knowing how a kid’s mind worked, she was not offended. She was glad Nick and Casey had bonded the way they had. It was adorable, for one, and probably good for both of them. With only a mother and a sister around now, Casey could use a older male role model. And she suspected that Nick, who still didn’t get to see his younger siblings as much as he would like (although at least he was keeping in touch with his family now), had begun to think of Casey as another little brother. She was glad he’d remembered to call Casey the way he’d promised.

“He did, did he?” she said, pretending to be surprised. “Wow, shows how I rate – he didn’t call me till he was leaving the airport in Los Angeles.” She’d found a voicemail from him on her cell phone when she’d gotten out of work, saying he had landed safely and was on his way to Howie’s place. Howie had a house in the area and was letting Nick shack up with him while they were both there to work on the album. She was glad he was staying with one of the guys; she’d envisioned him living alone in a hotel room for weeks on end, and no matter how nice of a suite he could afford, that image was sort of depressing.

Casey laughed. He was looking a lot better than he had the last time she’d seen him, although his skin was still too pale. His big brown eyes were still full of life though, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up. The kid had a great smile; someday he’d have the girls clamoring for that smile, she thought with a little smile of her own behind the green surgical mask she wore.

“So, you look like you’re feeling a little better,” she said, then added rather guiltily, “I’m sorry I haven’t been up to see you the last few days. I had some stuff going on, but it’s all over with now.”

“It’s okay,” Casey shrugged. “You haven’t missed much. Oh, except I got to the next level of Harry Potter last night!” His eyes flashed with excitement as he motioned to the Gamecube, which apparently held his new Harry Potter video game.

“Oh, cool! I guess if there’s anything good about being stuck in the hospital like this, it’s that you get tons of time to play Nintendo. And no school, that’s always nice.”

Casey shrugged again. “My teacher’s been sending my homework so I can keep up with my class. My mom’s got it; she hasn’t made me do any of it lately though.”

Claire nodded, figuring that was because he’d been so sick for the last week or so. It was horrible to imagine the poor kid trying to solve math problems while he was burning up with fever and puking every ten minutes from the chemo; no one should have to put up with all that torture at once. She remembered having to bullshit her way through a couple of papers while she was going through treatments so that she could get credit for the college classes she was taking, but Casey was only eleven, far too young to have so much on his plate at once.

“Do you miss school?” she asked quietly.

“Kind of, I guess,” Casey answered after a slight hesitation. The answer was vague, but she could tell he did. Probably more than anything, he missed his old life, his normal routine, his friends. She understood.

“I know I did, when I was sick,” she said. “I had to leave all my friends at college; it was really hard.”

Casey nodded, frowning, and they fell into silence, Claire struggling to find something to say that would cheer him up without… well, without sounding overly optimistic. The last thing a kid like Casey needed was false hope. He was fighting third battle against this disease, and as much as she hated to think about it, the odds were not in his favor. She didn’t know if Casey understood exactly how bad it was, and she didn’t think he needed to. Not yet anyway. He was fighting hard; try as it might, the cancer wasn’t beating him yet. Still, it also wasn’t right to talk as if he were going to miraculously get better and be back in school by next week. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

She finally gave up and decided to change the subject. Noticing a book wedged between the mattress and side rail of Casey’s bed, she said, “Hey, you feel up to hearing some more Harry Potter?” If reality gets you down, try fantasy, she thought.

Casey perked up a little. “Sure,” he replied and pulled out the book. “We’re gettin’ close to the end,” he remarked as he handed it to her, and she saw that their bookmark was indeed much closer to the back cover than it was to the front.

“Wow, we are, aren’t we? I’ll have to pick up the second one next time I’m out. So refresh my memory – what happened to Harry and his buddies last?”

“You forgot already??” Casey gave her a patronizing look, then, with the air of a teacher who has just been asked to repeat a set of directions for the fourth or fifth time, explained, “They went into the Forbidden Forest, and they met the centaurs, remember? And they saw that thing that was drinking the unicorn’s blood… and they think it might be You-Know-Who. You think it was?”

“Ooh… I dunno,” said Claire, opening the book to the marked page. “Let’s find out. Chapter Sixteen: Through the Trapdoor…”

Casey listened in rapt interest as she read, but by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione actually made it through the trapdoor, a good fifteen pages into the chapter, he’d drifted off to sleep. Noticing this, she paused, waiting to see if he would wake up when she stopped reading. He didn’t stir. She could tell by his deep, steady breathing that he was sound asleep. “We’re just now getting to the big climax of the book, and you zonk out on me?” she muttered, smiling sadly at the sleeping child as she marked her place and let the book fall closed.

She glanced at the clock; it was going on five, and she was starting to get hungry. She supposed she had better head home for dinner. Home to an empty house, she thought with a trace of melancholy, then mentally scolded herself for it. Before moving in with Nick, she’d lived alone, and she’d eaten alone plenty of times. Coming home to an empty house – or apartment, in her case then – was an everyday thing. So why did it seem so much harder now?

She answered her own question. Because there was no Nick in your life then. You didn’t know what you were missing.

Smiling a little, she stood and set the Harry Potter book down on the stand next to Casey’s bed. “Sleep well, Case,” she whispered as she tiptoed around his bed, reaching for her purse. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As she stood waiting for the elevator, she tried to imagine what was going to happen to Harry and his friends next, rather than wonder what Nick was doing at that very moment. Maybe I should just go buy myself a set of those books and take up reading for fun again, she thought with a smirk, remembering how it had once been a nightly ritual of hers to read before bed. She hadn’t done much of that since moving in with Nick; there were just too many other temptations.

Well, she jested herself, if I can’t go to bed with a Backstreet Boy, I might as well fall asleep with a wizard by my side.

***

“Rok, go long!” Nick yelled as he drew his arm back, his fingers firmly cupped around the laces of the football. Snapping his arm forward, he let go and watched as the ball spiraled in a high arc towards Brian.

“Hey, nice pass,” said Kevin, watching the ball hurtle through the air as AJ chased after Brian.

“Learned it from the best,” Nick replied with a quick grin in Kevin’s direction; he was the one who had taught Nick how to throw a spiral back when Nick was just a scrawny kid who would rather sing than play football. To this day, Kevin was the only one who had any real skill at the sport; yet, here they all were, playing in a park just down the street from the gated community in which Howie’s LA home sat.

Nick let out a whoop as Brian turned and clumsily caught the football. Tucking it under one arm, Brian sprinted towards the spot they’d designated as the goal line, dodging AJ’s half-hearted attempt to tag him. “TOUCHDOWN!” he bellowed, slamming the football down triumphantly and raising his arms above his head before breaking into an exaggeratedly silly victory dance.

“21-28, we’re catchin’ up, guys,” said Howie, clapping his hands together as Brian jogged over. Nick smirked; Howie reminded him of a Little League coach giving his team a pep talk or something. Oh well, at least he was enthusiastic, which was more than anyone could say for AJ, who was only playing because the rest of the guys were. AJ didn’t like football, or any other popular American sport except for golf, probably because he sucked at them all.

“I think the game’s almost over,” AJ said, looking at his watch, but Kevin shook his head.

“Nah, don’t go wussin’ out on me now, man – we just got possession of the ball again!” the older man insisted. “Let’s let ‘em kick off.”

“Don’t take off my hand now,” Howie warned, as he knelt in the grass, holding the football upright with his fingertip while Brian stepped back a few paces, gearing up to kick it to Kevin and AJ.

“How-ard!” Brian said patronizingly. “You always say that! I haven’t taken your hand off yet, have I? Have a little faith in me, bro.”

“For real, D; it could be worse!” yelled AJ from where he was standing. “Could be Nick doing the kick-off!”

Nick flashed Howie a dangerous smirk and swung his fake leg into the air. “Solid titanium, baby!” he called.

“Fine, Brian, just kick it!” exclaimed Howie, and next to Nick, Brian broke into a run and sent the football bouncing towards Kevin and AJ. Kevin scooped it up and started running, but was easily blocked by Brian, Howie, and Nick. Brian tagged him quickly, and Kevin tossed the ball to AJ, who had jogged up to meet them, and they positioned themselves to hike the ball.

“Hike!” Kevin barked, and AJ snapped him the ball through his legs. It was a crooked pass, but Kevin caught it anyway and yelled, “Go, AJ, run!”

“I hate this stupid sport,” AJ huffed as he jogged towards Nick, who hurried to cover him while Brian and Howie went after Kevin.

Kevin drew his arm back and sent the ball shooting in a high arc towards AJ, just as Brian was about to touch him. AJ stopped running and raised his arms, waiting for the ball to drop into his hands. But Nick, being taller, lunged in front of him and caught the pass himself at the last minute.

“Interception, ha!” gloated Nick as he hop-skipped out of AJ’s way before AJ could tag him. Tucking the ball under his right arm, he bounced off on his right leg and set off at an awkward jog, leaving a surprised AJ behind.

“Nick, I’m open!” called Brian, waving his arm from side to side as he sprinted away from Kevin.

“I got it; just give me a good block, man!” Nick yelled back as he jogged in Brian’s direction, amused at how seriously they were taking this game.

Brian and Howie had no trouble keeping Kevin away from Nick; the older man, who was usually very competitive when it came to football, was just standing there, watching as Nick ran past him untouched. They let Nick take the ball all the way to the imaginary goal line, and once he had scored and slammed the ball down with a vigorous “Boo-yah!” he turned back to find all four of them standing in a little cluster, watching him.

Smirking, he bent and scooped up the ball, tossing it casually from hand to hand as he walked back to them. Beneath his casual smugness, he was paying careful attention to the way his stump felt within the socket of his artificial leg, remembering what had happened the last time he ran on it. But this time, there was no pain or discomfort; he was winded, but he felt awesome.

“Well,” he said breathlessly, grinning at the guys. “We’re tied.”

“Whoo-hoo!” Brian whooped and slapped Nick on the back. “D and I should’ve had you running the ball all along.”

Nick shrugged. “It helps that no one bothered to chase me,” he said, sticking his tongue out good-naturedly. He saw the four guys exchange glances and added quickly, “It’s okay. But you can try to tag me next time; you don’t gotta go easy on me.”

“We weren’t going easy on you, Nick; I think we were just too surprised to chase you,” Kevin replied with a smile. “I was, at least.”

“Yeah, you know how slow the Old Man’s reaction time is,” AJ chimed in with a cackle.

Nick smiled. “It’s cool. You guys wanna call it a game?”

“On a tie?” Brian asked in surprise, just as AJ exclaimed a gusty, “Yes!”

Looking between the two of them, Howie laughed. “Yeah, let’s call it a game. We can’t fight and accuse each other of cheating if we end it on a tie.”

“You guys cheated,” AJ said automatically. “No one knew you had a secret weapon. We call Carter next time.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but no one could deny he was quite pleased with himself. Things really are getting back to normal, he thought as he and the others cut across the grass to their cars. And at that moment, he couldn’t have been happier.

***

The ringing of the phone made Claire jump. Laughing at herself, she scrambled off the couch and grabbed the cordless out of its charger. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe,” Nick’s voice rumbled in her ear.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, smiling into the phone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again already. Thanks for the voicemail earlier, by the way.”

“I told you I’d call,” replied Nick. His voice sounded thick, like he was lying down.

“So what are you up to?” she asked, meandering around the living room as she talked. “Are you in bed already??” It was nine o’clock her time, but that meant it was only six in California.

He laughed. “How did you know I was in bed?”

“You sound like you’re lying down,” she pointed out, smiling. He sounded awfully sexy that way too, just like he did when he first woke up in this morning.

Chuckling again, Nick said, “Yeah, I’m just layin’ here. I’m tired, man. Jet lag from the plane still, ya know, and me and the guys were out playin’ football earlier.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. Who won?”

“Eh, we tied. But guess who scored the tying touchdown for me and Bri and Howie’s team?”

“Who?” You? she thought, but she waited for him to tell her.

“Me!”

Claire smiled at the pride in his voice. “Awesome! You gotta give me the play-by-play,” she said and then listened as Nick described exactly how he’d ended the game. He sounded almost like a little boy who had just smacked his first homerun; it was cute. He was obviously pleased with himself, and he had every right to be. He had come such a long way, and seemingly little things such as running a football across one end of a park meant a lot to him. And listening to him share it with her meant a lot to her as well.

“That’s so great, Nick,” she said sincerely when he was done. “You didn’t overdo it this time, did you?” God, I sound like my mother, she thought as soon as the words left her mouth. But she didn’t care; she wanted to make sure Nick was okay. His last attempt to run on his leg had earned him a month of misery, and she didn’t want him to have to go through that again. Not to mention Nick was notorious for trying to keep it to himself when he was hurting, no matter what the consequences.

“No,” Nick replied grudgingly. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” she smiled. “So what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

“We got a meeting with management and some of the execs from our record company in the afternoon, and me and the guys are gonna get together at AJ’s house beforehand to mess around in his studio for awhile.”

Claire smiled, imagining the five of them harmonizing together, Nick plucking chords on his guitar while Kevin tinkered on the keyboard… The mental image brought her a jolt of surprise, as she realized she’d only seen them sing live together once, at last year’s VMA’s. Pretty low number, for being Nick Carter’s girlfriend. That would have to change.

She and Nick talked for almost an hour, until she yawned and said reluctantly, “Well… I should probably start getting ready for bed. Work tomorrow.”

“Okay. I should probably go downstairs and hang out with Howie so he don’t think I’m ignoring him. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” said Claire, getting up from the couch. “Just call when you can; you know my schedule,” she added, as she walked to the front door to check the security system. She’d made sure to turn it on when she came home from visiting Casey, but she knew she’d be paranoid if she didn’t make sure it was still on before she went to bed.

“Okay, sounds good,” Nick replied.

She stretched out their goodbyes, goodnights, and I love you’s, keeping him on the phone with her as she walked upstairs to their bedroom. It was pitch black inside, and she flipped on the light quickly, hoping it would bring some warmth and cheer to the room. It didn’t help much. The room felt just as lonely and looked even emptier with the light on. The furniture was all there, but something was missing. Nick’s voice in her ear reminded her of what. He sounded as if he were right on the other side of the wall, about ready to poke his head through the doorway, but she knew otherwise. Two thousand miles separated them tonight.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said again, more to stop herself from dwelling on the situation than anything else.

“Okay, baby. ‘Night; I love ya.”

“Love you too. Goodnight, Nick,” she heard her own voice echo, and then she hung up before she could draw it out any longer. The silence that followed made the bedroom seem even lonelier, so she tossed in a CD and let it play softly as she got ready for bed.

A few minutes later, she slid between the sheets on her side of the large bed. She stopped the CD, letting the silence take over again, and set her alarm clock for morning. Then she shut off the bedside lamp and lay down, turning away from the empty space on the other side of the bed.

***