Chapter 6

Here it is, the last chapter of this story. Or is it? Never know do ya? I plan on an epilogue to this story and possibly a sequal. Only if I get votes for it though. SO...with that said, if ya want a sequal, ya better give some reviews, if I don't get some reviews on this story, I'm not writing a sequal! Understand? Good! :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't know a darn thing about Nsync's crew. I don't know Nsync. They are not mine, but Evan is. Don't steal either, cause it's just wrong and it hurts my feelings. Not to mention, with the connections I have in the FanFic world...it wouldn't be good for you. :) Ya I know, I'm pulling connections. Sue me, but ya won't get anything.

A/N: Mer - as always, you're my friend, my confidant, and occasionally my muse. :Þ. Yet another story down my friend. Aren't ya proud of me?

To my friends on my various groups. Thanks for the support and pick me ups (read: Feedback)

To everyone who has ever reviewed a story of mine. I totally appreciate it. You are what keeps me writing and without the readers, writers wouldn't be needed. So this is to you. Everything we do is for you. Readers are what keeps writers going. SO thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I know I'm getting sappy, always happens when a story is nearing the end. Oh well. I'll let you read now! LOL :)

Lance fought. He fought with all the strength he had left in his bruised and battered body. One hand pushing against the hand trying to stab him. The other searching for purchase anywhere on the man that could that could gain him the upper hand in the situation.

Grunting in pain and exertion, Lance felt his hand slip under the black ski-mask covering his attacker's face. 'Of I'm going to die like this, at least I'm going to know my murderer's face.' Lance thought to himself, grabbing the mask and yanking it over the man's head.

Startled, the man jumped back, the light from the window illuminating his face. Piercing blue eyes stared back at Lance, both shocked. The attacker at being unmasked, and Lance at recognizing the man who wanted him dead.

Raven black hair in total disarray, blue eyes staring holes through Lance, evil sneer pulling at his lips, the attacker moved his face closer to Lance's. "Now you know, James. Are you happier now that you know who's going to kill you?"

"Evan, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" Lance demanded to know, his voice betraying his fear. He was stunned and he was scared. Evan, a man who worked for them on the crew, who he had considered a friend, was trying to kill him.

"Why? You don't know why? I loved you. I still love you. I asked you to be mine a year ago and you trashed my dreams. You didn't care. You're nothing but a selfish son of a bitch!" Evan spat hatefully. "Now, you're going to be a dead son of a bitch."

Lance remembered Evan asking him out. He'd turned him down. They'd been friends afterwards. "Evan, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please, don't do this." Lance pleaded, knowing now he didn't have the strength to fight him anymore.

Evan gave a short laugh, bringing the knife up against the soft skin of Lance's throat, right above his pulse. Lance closed his eyes, praying. He swallowed thickly around the fear and panic gathering as a lump in his throat. He regretted the small movement as soon as it was done, feeling the knife's blade cut slightly into his skin.

"You've already made your mistake." Evan replied, digging the knife into Lance's throat a little more.

What the hell is going on?" Lonnie asked, running into the suite, Justin right behind him.

"Someone is in there with Lance, and we can't get the damn door open!" Joey yelled, slamming his fist into the door.

"Get out of the way!" Lonnie barked. Everyone moved back to give the larger man room.

Stepping back, Lonnie ran at the door, throwing his shoulder into it. The door broke from its frame, wrenching part of the frame from the wall.

From their positions behind Lonnie, the other four friends could hear a panicked yell from Lance.

"Get the hell away from him!" Lonnie boomed, running further into the room, JC, Chris, Justin, and Joey following.

All thoughts of his own safety left Joey's mind when he saw the man poised over Lance's body, knife at his throat. "lance!" he screamed, starting towards his friend. Lonnie thrust his arm out to stop him.

"Stay back!" He ordered pushing Joey and the other's behind him. "The boy is crazy. Don't do anything to aggravate him."

Lance swallowed again eyes still closed. His heart was pounding in his chest, sweat trickled down the side of his neck. Or was that blood? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Evan looked around the room, eyes wild. His hand, however, was steady. "Stay away from me, or I'll kill him." He ordered, surveying the people in front of him.

"Evan, you don't want to do this. If you kill him, there's no way you're getting out of this room." Lonnie told him, trying to dissuade him.

Lance glanced at his friends. He could see the scared, horrified looks in their eyes. Saying a silent prayer, Lance closed his eyes and took the only chance he would have to get out of this alive.

Slowly, while Evan's attention was diverted to the new people in the room, Lance raised his hands, praying they wouldn't shake. Lightly, Lance ran his hand in a caress over Evan's cheek.

"Evan." Lance whispered, all the while attempting to keep the bile from rising any higher in his throat.

Surprised by the contact and the whisper of his name, Evan pulled his attention away from the others and back at Lance. He leaned gently into the warm, satin feel of Lance's hand on his face. He let the whisper wash over him, reveling in the velvet voice that said his name so seductively. Evan trained his questioning gaze to Lance's pale green eyes.

Without saying a word, without so much as a glance in his friends' direction, Lance applied slight pressure to where his hand now rested at the base of Evan's neck, moving his face closer to his own. Lance tentatively brought his lips to Evan's, ignoring the pain as the knife bit into his skin yet again.

Fighting the urge to move away, fighting the disgust rising in him, Lance deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Evan's lips, until with a sigh from the man above him, he was allowed access. Lance the actor that he is, pulled all the passion for life and threw it into that kiss. When Lance felt Evan relax, and the knife moving away from his throat, he knew it was time to make his move.

Mustering his last reserve of strength, Lance through himself up against Evan, surprising him. Using his feet and legs, Lance was able to throw the man off of him. Lance barely registered Lonnie rushing towards Evan, or Lonnie forcing the knife from Evan's hand.

He hadn't realized he was safe until he felt his friends' hands on him, checking him over to see how badly he'd been hurt.

"I'm fine guys." Lance tried to convince them, though he wasn't so sure of that himself. Lance glanced away from his friends' worried faces when he heard the arrival of someone else.

Detective Shelby rushed into the room from his station just down the hall. "What do we have here?" He asked. Lonnie began filling him in as much as he could as the detective put handcuffs around Evan's wrists.

Joey pulled Lance up against him, walking him to the other side of the room, using the bed to separate them from Evan. Turning so that Lance's back was to the window, Joey began to check him over again. He wanted to make sure Lance was ok. He didn't trust his friend to tell him the truth.

"Lance? Are you sure you're ok? Talk to me here. Tell me what's hurting." Joey ordered, running a thumb across the wound at Lance's neck. It was bleeding steadily, but not enough to be a danger. It would probably need stitches.

"I'm sore. Probably a little more bruised than I was earlier. My back hurts like hell. So do my ribs, and my neck. The rest of me falls pretty much somewhere between paper cut and severed arm." Lance joked, his tone betraying his distraction as he watched a police officer holding Evan as Shelby talked to his bandmates.

"Oh God, Lance. I thought I'd lost you. I'd thought I was going to lose you and I couldn't do anything about it." Joey said, tears in his eyes, pulling Lance to him in a fierce hug, careful of Lance's injuries.

"I don't want to, Lance. I don't want to." Joey whispered, closing his eyes, pressing Lance's head into his shoulder.

From across the room, Evan watched Lance with Joey, anger seething from him. He glared at the blond man, the man who'd smashed his fantasies, and broke his heart. He'd tried to tell Lance months ago that he was just setting himself up for heartache, that he'd be able to love Lance better than anyone. But Lance had said he would rather go with his love unrequited than to lead Evan along, not being able to give him his heart.

The longer Evan watched the madder he became. Sliding his gaze around the room, he surveyed where everyone was. Shelby and Lonnie were still talking to JC, Chris, and Justin in the corner. The police officer holding him had more of his attention on the conversation in the corner than on him. Other officer's were in the hall. He knew it was suicide, but if he was going to die, so was Lance.

Swiftly elbowing the officer behind him, Evan turned quickly, taking the man's gun from its holster. Spinning back around, Evan ran and was over the bed and lunging towards Lance and Joey before anyone else had time to react.

Lance opened his eyes when he heard a grunt from across the room. His eyes widened when he saw Evan lunging for himself and Joey. Quickly, Lance pushed Joey out of the way, just before he was knocked backwards by the force of Evan's body colliding with his.

Falling backwards, Lance brought his legs up, flipping them again so that Evan was underneath him. For seconds, Lance was deaf. He couldn't hear his anything; his friends' screams, the officers' yells. He heard nothing. Slowly he realized that the last thing he'd heard was the gun.

As the yells and screams came back into his mind, Lance looked down. He saw blood. Lots of blood. He was numb. He couldn't feel the pain in his back, the cuts on his neck and face. Nothing. Neither Evan nor Lance moved.

After the shock of being pushed out of the way and then hearing the gun go off, Joey quickly scrambled towards Lance and Evan. Tears ran down his face. Neither of them were moving. One of them had to be shot. There was so much blood, but Joey couldn't tell who it was coming from, and neither of them were moving.

Reaching them, Joey quickly pulled Lance off Evan, rolling him towards him and cradling him in his lap. Lance was wide-eyed and unblinking, a lifeless body resting against Joey.

"Lance? Lance?! Shit! Please be ok. Please!" Joey yelled, running his hands over Lance's blood soaked body. Most of the blood was on Lance's stomach. Pulling up the shirt frantically, Joey searched for a wound. He ran his hands over the smooth unmarred skin. Praying he wasn't dreaming and that he was actually seeing Lance's skin, intact, unharmed. There was nothing there.

Glancing at Evan now, Joey could see the blood pouring from Evan's stomach as the police officer and Detective Shelby tried to stop the blood flow while calling for an ambulance and back up. There was so much blood, and Joey was so happy that none of it was Lance's. He cursed himself for wishing the ambulance would never show up.

"Joey." Lance whispered from his lap. Joey looked down at his friend, running a blood soaked hand through the blond spikes

"Is it over now?" Lance asked, his eyes glassy pools, glazed over with tears, pain, and fear.

Joey smiled down at him, holding him closer to his body, rocking him slightly. "Yeah. It's over now."


	Inner Reflection \| home back to Help is on the Way Chapter 6 Here it is, the last chapter of this story. Or is it? Never know do ya? I plan on an epilogue to this story and possibly a sequal. Only if I get votes for it though. SO...with that said, if ya want a sequal, ya better give some reviews, if I don't get some reviews on this story, I'm not writing a sequal! Understand? Good! :) DISCLAIMER: I don't know a darn thing about Nsync's crew. I don't know Nsync. They are not mine, but Evan is. Don't steal either, cause it's just wrong and it hurts my feelings. Not to mention, with the connections I have in the FanFic world...it wouldn't be good for you. :) Ya I know, I'm pulling connections. Sue me, but ya won't get anything. A/N: Mer - as always, you're my friend, my confidant, and occasionally my muse. :Þ. Yet another story down my friend. Aren't ya proud of me? To my friends on my various groups. Thanks for the support and pick me ups (read: Feedback) To everyone who has ever reviewed a story of mine. I totally appreciate it. You are what keeps me writing and without the readers, writers wouldn't be needed. So this is to you. Everything we do is for you. Readers are what keeps writers going. SO thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know I'm getting sappy, always happens when a story is nearing the end. Oh well. I'll let you read now! LOL :) Sheena D. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lance fought. He fought with all the strength he had left in his bruised and battered body. One hand pushing against the hand trying to stab him. The other searching for purchase anywhere on the man that could that could gain him the upper hand in the situation. Grunting in pain and exertion, Lance felt his hand slip under the black ski-mask covering his attacker's face. 'Of I'm going to die like this, at least I'm going to know my murderer's face.' Lance thought to himself, grabbing the mask and yanking it over the man's head. Startled, the man jumped back, the light from the window illuminating his face. Piercing blue eyes stared back at Lance, both shocked. The attacker at being unmasked, and Lance at recognizing the man who wanted him dead. Raven black hair in total disarray, blue eyes staring holes through Lance, evil sneer pulling at his lips, the attacker moved his face closer to Lance's. "Now you know, James. Are you happier now that you know who's going to kill you?" "Evan, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" Lance demanded to know, his voice betraying his fear. He was stunned and he was scared. Evan, a man who worked for them on the crew, who he had considered a friend, was trying to kill him. "Why? You don't know why? I loved you. I still love you. I asked you to be mine a year ago and you trashed my dreams. You didn't care. You're nothing but a selfish son of a bitch!" Evan spat hatefully. "Now, you're going to be a dead son of a bitch." Lance remembered Evan asking him out. He'd turned him down. They'd been friends afterwards. "Evan, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please, don't do this." Lance pleaded, knowing now he didn't have the strength to fight him anymore. Evan gave a short laugh, bringing the knife up against the soft skin of Lance's throat, right above his pulse. Lance closed his eyes, praying. He swallowed thickly around the fear and panic gathering as a lump in his throat. He regretted the small movement as soon as it was done, feeling the knife's blade cut slightly into his skin. "You've already made your mistake." Evan replied, digging the knife into Lance's throat a little more. ~*~ What the hell is going on?" Lonnie asked, running into the suite, Justin right behind him. "Someone is in there with Lance, and we can't get the damn door open!" Joey yelled, slamming his fist into the door. "Get out of the way!" Lonnie barked. Everyone moved back to give the larger man room. Stepping back, Lonnie ran at the door, throwing his shoulder into it. The door broke from its frame, wrenching part of the frame from the wall. From their positions behind Lonnie, the other four friends could hear a panicked yell from Lance. "Get the hell away from him!" Lonnie boomed, running further into the room, JC, Chris, Justin, and Joey following. All thoughts of his own safety left Joey's mind when he saw the man poised over Lance's body, knife at his throat. "lance!" he screamed, starting towards his friend. Lonnie thrust his arm out to stop him. "Stay back!" He ordered pushing Joey and the other's behind him. "The boy is crazy. Don't do anything to aggravate him." Lance swallowed again eyes still closed. His heart was pounding in his chest, sweat trickled down the side of his neck. Or was that blood? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Evan looked around the room, eyes wild. His hand, however, was steady. "Stay away from me, or I'll kill him." He ordered, surveying the people in front of him. "Evan, you don't want to do this. If you kill him, there's no way you're getting out of this room." Lonnie told him, trying to dissuade him. Evan laughed, an insane sound. "I do want to do this." Lance glanced at his friends. He could see the scared, horrified looks in their eyes. Saying a silent prayer, Lance closed his eyes and took the only chance he would have to get out of this alive. Slowly, while Evan's attention was diverted to the new people in the room, Lance raised his hands, praying they wouldn't shake. Lightly, Lance ran his hand in a caress over Evan's cheek. "Evan." Lance whispered, all the while attempting to keep the bile from rising any higher in his throat. Surprised by the contact and the whisper of his name, Evan pulled his attention away from the others and back at Lance. He leaned gently into the warm, satin feel of Lance's hand on his face. He let the whisper wash over him, reveling in the velvet voice that said his name so seductively. Evan trained his questioning gaze to Lance's pale green eyes. Without saying a word, without so much as a glance in his friends' direction, Lance applied slight pressure to where his hand now rested at the base of Evan's neck, moving his face closer to his own. Lance tentatively brought his lips to Evan's, ignoring the pain as the knife bit into his skin yet again. Fighting the urge to move away, fighting the disgust rising in him, Lance deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Evan's lips, until with a sigh from the man above him, he was allowed access. Lance the actor that he is, pulled all the passion for life and threw it into that kiss. When Lance felt Evan relax, and the knife moving away from his throat, he knew it was time to make his move. Mustering his last reserve of strength, Lance through himself up against Evan, surprising him. Using his feet and legs, Lance was able to throw the man off of him. Lance barely registered Lonnie rushing towards Evan, or Lonnie forcing the knife from Evan's hand. He hadn't realized he was safe until he felt his friends' hands on him, checking him over to see how badly he'd been hurt. "I'm fine guys." Lance tried to convince them, though he wasn't so sure of that himself. Lance glanced away from his friends' worried faces when he heard the arrival of someone else. Detective Shelby rushed into the room from his station just down the hall. "What do we have here?" He asked. Lonnie began filling him in as much as he could as the detective put handcuffs around Evan's wrists. Joey pulled Lance up against him, walking him to the other side of the room, using the bed to separate them from Evan. Turning so that Lance's back was to the window, Joey began to check him over again. He wanted to make sure Lance was ok. He didn't trust his friend to tell him the truth. "Lance? Are you sure you're ok? Talk to me here. Tell me what's hurting." Joey ordered, running a thumb across the wound at Lance's neck. It was bleeding steadily, but not enough to be a danger. It would probably need stitches. "I'm sore. Probably a little more bruised than I was earlier. My back hurts like hell. So do my ribs, and my neck. The rest of me falls pretty much somewhere between paper cut and severed arm." Lance joked, his tone betraying his distraction as he watched a police officer holding Evan as Shelby talked to his bandmates. "Oh God, Lance. I thought I'd lost you. I'd thought I was going to lose you and I couldn't do anything about it." Joey said, tears in his eyes, pulling Lance to him in a fierce hug, careful of Lance's injuries. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Joe-joe." Lance smiled, hugging Joey back. "I don't want to, Lance. I don't want to." Joey whispered, closing his eyes, pressing Lance's head into his shoulder. From across the room, Evan watched Lance with Joey, anger seething from him. He glared at the blond man, the man who'd smashed his fantasies, and broke his heart. He'd tried to tell Lance months ago that he was just setting himself up for heartache, that he'd be able to love Lance better than anyone. But Lance had said he would rather go with his love unrequited than to lead Evan along, not being able to give him his heart. The longer Evan watched the madder he became. Sliding his gaze around the room, he surveyed where everyone was. Shelby and Lonnie were still talking to JC, Chris, and Justin in the corner. The police officer holding him had more of his attention on the conversation in the corner than on him. Other officer's were in the hall. He knew it was suicide, but if he was going to die, so was Lance. Swiftly elbowing the officer behind him, Evan turned quickly, taking the man's gun from its holster. Spinning back around, Evan ran and was over the bed and lunging towards Lance and Joey before anyone else had time to react. Lance opened his eyes when he heard a grunt from across the room. His eyes widened when he saw Evan lunging for himself and Joey. Quickly, Lance pushed Joey out of the way, just before he was knocked backwards by the force of Evan's body colliding with his. Falling backwards, Lance brought his legs up, flipping them again so that Evan was underneath him. For seconds, Lance was deaf. He couldn't hear his anything; his friends' screams, the officers' yells. He heard nothing. Slowly he realized that the last thing he'd heard was the gun. As the yells and screams came back into his mind, Lance looked down. He saw blood. Lots of blood. He was numb. He couldn't feel the pain in his back, the cuts on his neck and face. Nothing. Neither Evan nor Lance moved. After the shock of being pushed out of the way and then hearing the gun go off, Joey quickly scrambled towards Lance and Evan. Tears ran down his face. Neither of them were moving. One of them had to be shot. There was so much blood, but Joey couldn't tell who it was coming from, and neither of them were moving. Reaching them, Joey quickly pulled Lance off Evan, rolling him towards him and cradling him in his lap. Lance was wide-eyed and unblinking, a lifeless body resting against Joey. "Lance? Lance?! Shit! Please be ok. Please!" Joey yelled, running his hands over Lance's blood soaked body. Most of the blood was on Lance's stomach. Pulling up the shirt frantically, Joey searched for a wound. He ran his hands over the smooth unmarred skin. Praying he wasn't dreaming and that he was actually seeing Lance's skin, intact, unharmed. There was nothing there. Glancing at Evan now, Joey could see the blood pouring from Evan's stomach as the police officer and Detective Shelby tried to stop the blood flow while calling for an ambulance and back up. There was so much blood, and Joey was so happy that none of it was Lance's. He cursed himself for wishing the ambulance would never show up. "Joey." Lance whispered from his lap. Joey looked down at his friend, running a blood soaked hand through the blond spikes "What Lance?" Joey asked in a quiet voice, trying to sooth his friend and himself. "Is it over now?" Lance asked, his eyes glassy pools, glazed over with tears, pain, and fear. Joey smiled down at him, holding him closer to his body, rocking him slightly. "Yeah. It's over now."