PROLOGUE The banging on my door is loud and seems incessant. I know without a doubt that it’s my little brother. He yells a few muffled noises I cannot make out, and then finally disappears. But when I turn my back towards the door, the pounding starts up again, this time even louder.

“Come on jerkface! It’s your turn today, so get your ass out of bed!” This time, his words are all too clear as they sear through my head. I wince slightly, embarrased.

Here I am, thirty-four, and back at square one. When I’ve been all around the world, seen most of the things life offers to a person and done things ten people wouldn’t be able to do in an entire lifetime, I’m back home, living in some random crappy house with my mother and brother. Both of them clearly hating the very sight of me.

I’m not really sure how they could afford this place. Although the house is nothing really worth mentioning, both my Mom and Aaron have been exceptionally broke for years now. Now I am too, but that’s beside the point.

Letting me move back in with them was most probably not out of the kindness of their hearts, but because of the little amount of saved money I had left. Whoever had money these days, could live with them for as long as they wanted.

Dragging myself across the room, feeling the continuous marching band in my head doing their great reprise, I open the door and see my younger brother standing there with a raised fist. I stare at him for a moment, not impressed and then motion for him to get out of my way. He gives me a taunting look before stepping aside. Not planning on paying him anymore attention, I shove past him and thunder down the stairs.

With a discouraged sigh, I stare at the small kitchen with the cramped in dining table. My heart sinks and my head starts pounding even more pronouncedly as I retrieve an empty trash-bag from under the sink and try to collect all the empty drink-bottles from the tables with one swipe of my arm. I hear them land into the bag with a satisfying crash. Although I’m a bit ashamed to admit to it, last night’s thoughts kind of caught up to me and the wine and whiskey was all too inviting. When my mother came home late from wherever she’d gone to, she sat with me and we drank the last of the collection. We sat, drank and talked, like we hadn’t done in ages. In a lifetime, it seems. Although we both knew it was years too late, we apologized for everything and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am able to look her into the eyes again.

Just a small light in the midst of all this mess.
“I think you should go back,” Her voice resounds through the now somewhat clean kitchen. I sigh, looking up at her reflection in the window, before slowly turning around.

“Well, I don’t, I told you that last night, didn’t I?” I try to stay patient, but the annoyance seeps through my voice. I don’t really like talking about what happened, and before last night, neither Mom, nor Aaron bothered to ask questions. But seemingly my mother’s curiosity was sparked after the story I told her and she can’t let go of it ever since.

“They still need you, even if they can’t see that right now,” she says, trying to sound wise. I scoff softly, knowing that after everything that happened, I have kind of lost my unconditional faith in my mother’s judgement.

“They don’t need me, Mom, they’ve made that pretty clear. Besides, I’m not the one that got us involved in this whole situation this time. I’m just the one who was able to walk out of it. They have gotten us into this mess, so I ask why should I be the one to get us out?” I snarl angrily and Mom grimaces slightly.

“What do you think would have happened if they said the same thing when you yourself were in trouble? They helped you!”

“Somebody had to!” I blast back, immediately regretting it when I see the look in her eyes.

“I thought we got past that last night, Nick,” she whispers, hurtful. I sigh and nod softly.

“I know,” I mutter, turning back towards the sink. “These dishes need washing, they ain’t gonna wash themselves.”

“You always were a stubborn brat,” my Mom announces behind my back. I carefully start piling up the plates next to the faucet. I really can’t remember the last time I did the dishes, or collected the trash for that matter.

“I know, thanks for recognizing,” I mutter the half-joke without the humour in my voice. She sighs, obviously considering it a lost cause this time and after a few minutes in which I make it clear I have nothing more to say as I pretend to put all my effort and attention into washing the plates, she shuffles out of the kitchen.

Once I’m sure she can’t see me anymore, I let go of the half-washed plate in my hands and wearily rub my forehead, not caring that my hands are still covered in dish-soap.

Cutting everybody out of my life seemed like the best idea on the moment I was doing it. I would be free, not having to deal with the impending drama and tragedies that would soon follow the group wherever we went. But now that I had to actually live with it, starting up a whole different life away from the biggest mess the Backstreet Boys had ever come across, now I couldn’t help but wondering every day, every minute where everything had gone wrong, and what to do to make it better again.

And yes, we’d been all around the world, we’d seen most of the things life offers to a person and we’d done things twenty people wouldn’t be able to do their entire lifetime. And we had fun doing so. But it was over. Over as soon as one of us couldn’t keep it up anymore. When one of our own started crashing down so hard, taking everyone with him, that nothing could safe us. It had happened before, years and years ago, but not like this, never this bad. And this time, I wasn’t involved on the matter. Wasn’t informed of anything until it was far too late. This time, I was just an outsider looking in, seeing everything we’d ever loved and cared for get destroyed. So is it any wonder that I felt like the only control I had left was the choice whether I should stay or leave.

I chose the latter, sue me. Because heaven knows that I would do whatever it takes to make it alright, if only that was possible. But it’s too late, far too late.

2014

I stare at my phone as if it’s a foreign object, daring it to vibrate one more time. Do it, you little sucker, and I’ll surely throw you out the window. I should have done that a while ago, cut off all strings that were firmly attached to me and my old life. I did that mostly, and now the only thing that remains is my incessantly stirring iPhone that seems to desperately alarm me about stuff I have nothing to do with anymore.

It’s been quiet for some time now though, and I can’t help but immediately wonder if that’s a good, or one of the bad signs. With my luck, it’s probably the latter.

“The hell are you doing?” My brother walks into the kitchen, holding one of the stray cats that live around the neighbourhood.

“Nothin’ much,” I reply with a sigh, staring at the cat that hisses at me. I think it sounds like it is accusing me of something.

“Figures…” Aaron mumbles before putting the animal in the sink. The cat is one second too late to figure out what’s coming next and before it can jump out of the basin, Aaron sprays it with ice-cold water, rinsing the sand and mud out of the feline’s fur. Now it’s my brother’s turn to be hissed at. He agilely manages to stay out of reach of the animal’s vicious paws.

“Sit still, you worthless hairball,” Aaron hisses back in turn, “Gotta get you cleaned up for a change.”

My mouth is hanging open as I watch the strange exchange between cat and brother. “’s That your cat?” I question, astonished.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s nobody’s cat!” he states matter-of-factly.

“Then why are y-”

BZZZZZZ….

We both turn our attention to the dining table suddenly.

The phone buzzes three more times before Aaron bothers to ask tauntingly, “Aren’t you going to see who it is?”

I give him a deathly glare, and stay seated. “I don’t have to,” I answer coldly, “I already know who it is. She’s been calling ever since I moved in.”

Somehow, Lauren seems to think I’m the one in trouble.

I’ve tried to explain things to her, tried to make her understand why I moved back in here with my family, tried to even get her to go with me, but she didn’t want to have any of it. So I walked out on her, on them, on everybody really, and came back to those I’d never thought I would make amends with.

Oh jolly, weird world.

The pissed off street-cat eagerly jumps out of the forgotten sink, hissing its little head off, as Aaron stares at me and the phone, an eyebrow raised. I don’t want to let it show, but I start to get real agitated when the buzzing doesn’t seem to stop. It has never been this persistent and I hesitate for ten more seconds before I grab it.

AJ, it said. I frown deeply, feeling my heart hammering in my throat. Out of all four, they have never bothered to call me after their falling out. To be honest, AJ was the last of them that I expected to pick up his phone and call me. Not in the least because we shared some words that last day that are still branded into my brain.

Flaming anger sears through my veins as I accept the call, my mind keen on telling him once and for all to not ever call me again. I don’t really get a chance to do that as AJ spews an entire waterfall worth of words over me, not caring to take a breath in between. “You’ve gotta come, you’ve gotta come! Something’s happened, you have to get here, I can’t explain over the phone, there’s no time, we’re all meeting up in Indiana, get there as soon as you can!”

There’s so much I want to scream at him, the repressed anger I’ve held inside for over five weeks slowly boiling towards the surface. How dare he telling me what to do?

How dare he not taking my absence seriously? How dare he calling me? Instead I mutter, “W-what?”

“You! Get your ass over here! It’s finally happened, there’s no way back anymore, and we could use your help!”

His words do nothing to reassure me and I lifelessly let myself fall back on the creaking kitchen chair. “D-did he do it?” I choke out fearfully.

For the first time since I picked up the phone, AJ goes quiet and I hear him sigh. “Y-yeah,” he stammers quietly, “there’s no going back now. There’s a conference in two hours, we-”

I don’t hear the rest of what he’s got to say. I drop the phone unceremoniously on the table and stare into the distance with wide open eyes. Faintly I notice Aaron watching me closely, as if he’s trying to figure out what just happened. Although he intently listened to the whole conversation, I can assume there wasn’t much information he could filter out from it. He knows better than to confront me about it though and quietly shuffles out of the kitchen, the stray cat still hissing in his now gloved hands.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I decide to get my car keys and give up this silly attempt at cutting everybody I know out of my life. I had hoped, dreamt that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t happen if I were to be away. That maybe, if I left, things wouldn’t get worse than they already were. But as it turns out, it doesn’t mean squat what I do. Because this time, it’s not about me, it’s not in my control. I’m just outside, out of charge. I can’t change a whole damn thing about the situation and that is what hurts the most.

2014
I’ve always been known as being a bit of a careless, maybe even reckless driver. Basically because I’m in a hurry most of the time. This time is no different. I thank the heavens that I didn’t forget to put fuel in the car the night before and without minding the speed limit, I cross the big road that leads out of town. Indiana is three and a half hours away from the God-forgotten town we’ve chosen to reside in in South Wisconsin. There’s no way I can make it in two hours, but I can try and get there in three, if I drive fast, and if I don’t get pulled over. Luckily it’s Sunday, luckily on Sunday, there are not a whole lot of people on the road. The big highway that stretches in front of me is nearly deserted, apart from the occasional Sunday-drivers, typically driving five miles below the limit. I make a big deal out of getting them to get the hell out of my way, that unlike them, I do need to be somewhere.

Need.

AJ said they needed me. They have never actually needed me before. Not in these type of situations. Alright, it’s not like this situation happens to us all the time, but, when they do, Kevin usually makes sure I keep quiet and don’t get involved, if it isn’t about me. That never works out for the best and now that I actually did manage to keep myself on the outside, they suddenly need me.

I feel kind of special.

The smirk on my face slowly fades as I recall AJ’s exact use of words. There’s no way back now. I slow down just a few miles and wonder if I really want to get myself involved in this. Sure, they can handle a little conference without me? What the hell am I doing here driving fifteen miles over the limit, just to get sucked back into this mess again? Sure, life with mother and brother wasn’t my very first choice, but it was better than the alternative, wasn’t it? Or was I just making a statement by shutting myself out of the entertainment world?

Carter is done, Carter will not come back, unless you really need him, of course, because if you do, he’d be happy to come back as soon as he can.

More than a little conflicted, I pick up my again, vibrating phone and rasp a rushed, ‘What?’ into it, trying to keep my main attention focused on the road before me. The scenery has changed from dull, highway characteristics, to the amazing wide-open countryside road. There’s not a soul in side for as far as I can spot, and I kind of like it that way. Peace, quiet, tranquillity for the first time in…

“What the hell is taking you so long, Nick?” a normally soft voice, blares through my phone.

“Dude, chill out, no one can drive from Wisconsin to the middle of Indiana in just two hours,” I try to reason with an obviously freaked out Howard Dorough. “I can be there in like, 45 minutes from now,” I say glancing at my watch.

If Howie ever bothers to respond, is not a real issue at the moment, because I drop my phone immediately when I return my attention to the road. With a mighty pull at the steering wheel, I only just manage to dodge the short man that has suddenly appeared in the middle of the road. The car screeches loudly and turns dangerously close to the edge of the road. I try with all my might to correct the drifting car back onto a straight path, like I’ve done on Need for Speed a thousand times before. There proofs to be a real big gap between virtual and actual reality the car crashes into the guardrail with a sickening slam.

After a few minutes, that feel like hours, I hesitatingly dare to raise my head from behind the steering wheel to look out of the cracked windshield. The entire front of my car is dented in and I can vaguely make out the smoke that’s puffing out from underneath the hood.
Awesome.

A little stiff, shaken, but otherwise fine, I stomp against the door, opening it. I stumble out, intend on surveying the damage a little more closely. Discouraged, I stare at the smoking hood for a couple of seconds before wildly looking around, in search of the short, old man that I am sure was on the road earlier. He’s nowhere in sight and I wonder for a moment if maybe I hit him and flung him into the deep valley on the other side of the country-road. That would be just my luck.

Carefully, I cross the road to the other side, hesitatingly looking down into the valley. I am not sure if I should be relieved or not when I cannot detect any bloodied or crooked bodies lying at the bottom. I shake my head in dismay and walk back to my wrecked car, reaching under the driver’s seat to retrieve my phone. My heart nearly stops when I do not retrieve one, but two pieces of what used to be a solid iPhone.

In my anger, I throw them across the street with a growl, trying to aim for the valley, but only succeeding in throwing the remains of what was my only contact with the civilised world halfway, effectively causing it to break in even more pieces. Mad at the world for causing me so much trouble, I sit down on the trunk of the car, slumping in defeat. The before so calm and peaceful stretch of concrete, soon turns into a place of despair, a place where no living soul should ever be held up at, because no other living soul is ever coming across this road.

After contemplating my options over and over again, I decide it would be best if I try to walk towards the highway, fifty miles back. Only the thought of walking fifty miles makes my legs hurt and grumbling, I pick up a few water bottles and some crackers from the back seat.

Putting them in my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I give my car one last glance before turning around and starting to walk.

“Hey there, mate. In a bit of a hurry, weren’t we?” a voice booms right next to my left ear and I jump about a mile away from my spot. The man next to me is short, bearded and wears a worn shirt and filthy cap. He smiles maliciously and I can just see the three missing teeth on the right.

After I’ve recovered from the initial shock that this guy just all of a sudden appeared right beside me, I frown, clenching my fists, and look him into his face. “The hell were you doing in the middle of the road dude? You have a death wish or something? I could have hit you!”

“But you haven’t,” the guy replies matter-of-factly.

I narrow my eyes, getting more and more pissed off at the dude as seconds tick by, “maybe if I had, my car wouldn’t be all screwed up right now!” I bellow, turning away swiftly and madly stamping onwards, away from the bearded man.

“Come on,” the guy says, and I can vaguely detect the smile in his voice, while he tries to keep up with my fast pace, “don’t be like that. Not many people would have reacted so fast as you did, many people would have just run me over. You, my boy, are quite a hero.”

I halt abruptly, clench my jaw and take a deep breath before turning, “Well, this hero has to get to the highway before it gets dark. And unless you’ve got a working phone, I would really appreciate it if you would let me get on my way,” I reply stiffly, not in the least expecting this man to have a phone on him.

“Ah, sorry kiddo, can’t really help ya with that. Maybe there’s something else I can help you with though,” he comments mysteriously, not at all bothered with my fast walking anymore. Although my heart steadily picks up speed, I keep my gaze on the road before me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mutter.

“You clearly have something on ya’ mind, kid,” the man explains, “Why don’t you share it with the group, son? Get it off your chest?”

This time I do turn to face him, though I keep walking. Am I really that transparent? Do you only need to cast a look on me to know the deep shit I tried to stay out of?

Suddenly I realized that I stopped walking, staring uncertainly at my mysterious companion. He’s looking at me with an inviting expression and although there’s something really strange about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on, he’s right. I do need someone to blow off steam at.

“You really wanna know?” I yell into the warm summer air at the old man’s cap. He nods quickly, watching me with interested eyes. “I’m fucked!” I yell, even louder this time.

“Why’s that, kiddo?”

“Everything’s messed up, and it’s not even my fault! You know, one moment we were on tour, everything’s fine, and then bam! He goes and fucks it all up. Now we’re all screwed! It’s his fault! Why should we all have to pay for it?” Although I can’t see it, I know my face must resemble something close to a tomato, but I don’t really care about that as a release all the build-up anger I’ve kept inside for over five weeks. The man before me doesn’t seem fazed by my outburst and patiently waits for me to continue.

“You know, my wife keeps calling me, because she thinks I vanished from the face of the earth, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I had to get out, you understand? I mean, how am I supposed to act like nothing’s going on, when all I really want is to change everything that happened? So I left! What else could I do? What’s done, has been done, nothing you can do to change it, right?” I feel my chest heaving in exertion as I watch the man helplessly, as if asking him to tell me different.

He looks at me thoughtfully, as if contemplating if I’m worth giving his advice to, “So what brings you to Bendrick Road then, kid?” he questions after a few moments.

It doesn’t occur to me why he knows the name of this Godforsaken country-road, instead I slump down, sitting on the guardrail that my car crashed into about a mile ago.

“He needs my help, I’m supposed to be in Indiana in...,” I pause, glancing at my watch again, “two minutes…” I laugh slightly, feeling ridiculous and let my arm drop, staring off in the distance for a solid minute before speaking again, “and then you appeared, and now my car’s screwed up too, just like my life,” my voice sounds only half-accusing, the defeat and exhaustion taking up the other part.

The man nods, seemingly understanding. “I see. Though I do not really know what happened, I feel like it doesn’t matter. It’s too late to change any of it, right?” I nod, still staring into the distance.

“But still you jumped at the chance of helping the guy, even if he screwed up your life?” he doesn’t sound disbelieving, and if I wouldn’t know better, I’d say I heard a hint of admiration in his voice.

I do know better though and that’s why I shrug half-heartedly, “Yeah, I’m just that stupid, I guess.”

The man decides not to touch that subject and the silence lingers for a good five minutes before he speaks up. “What if…” he begins and I notice it’s a struggle to force the words out, “What if I told you, there was a way to…” he pauses and I raise my eyebrows.

“To what?”

“To change things? You know, really, change them?”

I frown deeply, returning my gaze on the road, thinking about his words, “How? I mean, you did get the part where I said it was too late, right?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he states cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to focus, really, really focus,” the man suddenly instructs and instead of doing as he says, I watch him incredulously.

“What?”

“Nothing is ever too late, Nick, not in the least if you know all the things I’ve learnt in my years.” My eyes grow big at the mention of my name, but I keep my mouth shut, too caught up in the moment to really take it into account that I never told this stranger my name.

“Focus, son. Focus on the one thing you want to change most in this life, close your eyes, and go from there.”

After a few moments, I decide to take his words seriously and do as he says. My thoughts wander off to a time long ago, the time everything started to get loose and wobbly, threatening to fall over and destroy the lives of them involved.

“You got something?” the man’s gruff voice interrupts only slightly and I nod, mesmerized. “Alright, now I want you to open up your eyes again, but do not stop thinking about it, can you do that?” I nod confidently again, printing the mental image onto my brain just to be sure. Opening up my eyes, I don’t see anything different immediately. My eyes flick towards the man’s face for a second and I give him a questioning look.

“Focus, kiddo!” he hisses vehemently, and I immediately return my gaze to the road, “Focus and think about the thing!”

Complying, I try again and as I open my eyes a second time, there’s a strange feeling of déjà vu sweeping over me. Two birds, that I swear were there five minutes ago, fly dangerously low over the abandoned road. I blink a few times, but have to conclude in the end that my eyes are not betraying me.

The birds are flying backwards.

Shocked, I turn towards the man again, but he’s disappeared as fast as he’s come. The world suddenly starts spinning madly and the exhaustion I felt earlier multiplies by ten. I lose the struggle to keep my eyes open and I’m asleep even before my head connects with the guardrail.

4.

The banging on my door is loud and seems incessant. I don’t immediately recognize the voice on the other side, that yells a few muffled words I cannot make out and then disappears. Now wide-awake, I stare at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, trying to get a grip on the weirdest dream I’ve had in ages. With an incredulous smile, I sit up, intent on making breakfast for mother and brother.

The world starts spinning madly and I lie back down. I do not recall drinking, partying or doing anything else that could make my head feel like it is about to burst like an egg. Trying again, a little more careful this time, I sit up and rub my temples protectively. The pounding on the door starts up again and does nothing to calm the constant pounding in my head.

“What?” I growl, my voice raspy and unsteady.

This seems to be the cue for the person on the other side to start his tirade and sighing, I only half listen to what he’s got to say, “Dude! The hell man, hurry up! It’s eleven thirty already and we gotta be there in thirty minutes! Why’d you lock the door? I still need my shoes! This is not only your room, we gotta share, remember? Kevin said so!”

Frowning deeply, I wonder if I’m still dreaming. The voice outside sounds nothing like my brother’s and I faintly recognize the tone. I get on my feet, feeling like my legs are made of jelly and walk over to the door, hesitatingly unlocking it.

He looks rather pissed off, fully dressed but still on his socks. His fist is still high up in the air, as if he wants to knock on the now opened door again. But that’s not the thing that unhinges my jaw and makes my eyes three times as big. He stumbles back a little, uncertain off my suddenly shocked expression. “What?” he questions, “there something on my face? Cause I had cereal earlier and if there’s still some crumbs left, AJ didn’t tease me about it,” he rattles, cause that’s what he does when he feels uneasy.

With the greatest effort, I close my mouth and shake my head, still at a loss for words. The strangest thing is that I seem to be the only one who is shocked by our appearance. He doesn’t wait for me to invite him in, instead brushes past me and collects his shoes from under the other bed in the room.

Strange. I don’t remember seeing that bed before. Trying to find my voice, I stare at his still dirty-blond hair that always had a tendency to peak at all different directions. I take a deep breath, willing my heart to calm down and walk over to my own bed, sitting down. The headache has lessened to a dull throb, but I still can’t figure out the things I’m seeing with my own two eyes.

“You should go and get ready too, we’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he reminds me again, giving me a concerned scowl. “Are you okay? You look a little…” Old, he’s gonna say old, “… pale.”

Frowning, I shoot him an incredulous look. “Wh- What? Wh- How… Where are we?” I stammer, trying to find the right words.

Brian’s eyebrows shoot up as fast as I’ve seen them go.

“Wisconsin,” he says indifferently, “don’t ask me the town, cause I don’t have a frikkin clue, but we’ve been around here for almost a week, man. And we gotta be in Indiana in like four hours, so go get the hell ready! I am not gonna be late because of you again!”

Amazed, I shake my head, “I-… I just… Dude, you look really different,” I state carefully, watching his expression change from annoyance to despair.

“Oh God! What did AJ do to me?” he demands, “did he dye my hair again? He did, didn’t he? Perfect! I told him I liked it this blond! He’s such an asshole!”

I throw up my hands in defence at his sudden outburst, “No, no… he didn’t, at least, I don’t think he did.” I reply uneasily, “I was just gonna say that you look really… umm… young?”

Brian frowns and looks as if he’s questioning my mental health. It takes him a couple of seconds before he finds an answer, “Thanks, but I’m still 24, dude.”

Now it’s my turn to frown and I suddenly stand up, pointing an accusing finger at him, “No, you’re not! You wish! You’re 39, man! Stop lying to me and tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Brian stares at me dumbly for a couple of seconds before matching my own angry expression. “The fuck, man? Are you high?”

I watch him closely, still expecting him to jump up and yell ‘Punk’d!’ at me or something like that. It really isn’t his M.O. anymore to prank people like that, but you never know… Then again, what is he doing here? Or what am I doing here?

When I don’t answer my bandmate immediately, he grows concerned, nervously hopping from one foot to another, “Please tell me you’re not high.”

“N-no, of course not! I don’t do those kind of things anymore, you know that!” I rush and see his frown grow deeper at the mention of ‘anymore’. The Brian I know would see this as a clear sign that things need to be investigated further. This one doesn’t, however and instead just shakes his head, mumbling “Something’s wrong with you,” before turning and making the bed that already seems spotless.

A bit lost, I watch him do his thing for a moment, only disturbed when a loud banging on the door echoes through the room a second time. “You boys almost ready in there? The schedule doesn’t wait for lazy fucks, ya know?” a voice booms outside the door and I freeze immediately, recognizing it.

Unlike me, Brian does seem activated by the semi-threat and hurriedly tosses me a pair of tennis shoes. I do not make an attempt to catch them and don’t even flinch as they unceremoniously smash into my chest. My bandmate watches my frozen, statue-like stance for a few second before shaking his head and walking towards the door, turning before actually opening it.

“Look, I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but you gotta suck it up and get your ass going, before they’re gonna leave without us, got it?” he questions, trying to be stern, but failing miserably with his young face staring back at me.

I merely nod tightly and my eyes widen as he opens the door to join an annoyed looking Q standing outside. I shuffle forward uneasily, putting on the shoes Brian has thrown me on the way to the door, trying not to look the bodyguard in the eye.

I know he can go really far when playing out a practical joke if he puts his heart into it, but even Brian Littrell cannot bring people back from the dead.

--------------------------------

I hear them even before I see them. A swarm of thousands of girls outside the expensive hotel we are apparently staying in. Their ear-piercing shrieks echo through my eardrums as security guides the safest way to the bus. The smile plastered on the other boys’ faces is absent on mine. I’m pretty sure my face must be pale as a sheet and me eyes have some kind of stunned expression in them, as I try to figure out what it is I’m seeing. I’ve pretty much ruled out the possibility that it’s a dream, as I heard somewhere that you cannot count your fingers or feel pain in a dream. I’ve tested both.

The girls outside seem a little disappointed by my non-existent reaction to them and counter that by screaming my name even louder. Although I’ve been adored by fans for more than half of my life, I’m not used to what’s happening outside now.

These girls are teenagers, screaming and crying for us like their lives depend on it. And I don’t know exactly why, but it kinda feels wrong to give a sign of love to girls who are half my age or even younger.

Once we’re on the bus, Kevin grabs my arm and pulls me aside, studying me with narrowed eyes.

“What on earth is up with you today?” he hisses.

I blink, staring calmly at the hand clasped around my arm tightly. “That depends,” I mumble, “what Brian told you- would you let go of my arm, please?”

Kevin lets go in an instant, watching me with surprise in his eyes. I suddenly know why. 19-year old me would probably not have reacted the way I did. He would have lashed out, I’m pretty sure of that. I bit my lip, suddenly seeing my own way too young face in the reflection of the bus’ window. Kevin asks me what’s going on again, but I know the truth would probably make him lock me up in an asylum or something.

“Nothing, I’m just…” I shrug, not finishing the sentence, knowing that those are the kind of answers he expects from me. He just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, grumbling, “Teenagers are getting weirder and weirder these days,” before turning away and heading for the front of the bus.

I smile knowingly to myself, knowing there’s no way I can explain this kind of stuff to Kevin. Maybe I only have a shot at making my situation clear if I told-

I see him in a flash, standing outside on the street, only about two feed aside from the speeding bus. With wide-open mouth, I whip my head around, trying to catch another glimpse of the bearded, blue-eyed man. Not succeeding, I throw up my hands in a panic and sprint towards the bus driver, yelling for him to stop the damn bus.

“Damn you Nick! The studio is gonna have our heads if we arrive late another time, and we already are behind on schedule!” Howie Dorough blasts from behind me, “You can buy a soda when we get there!”

I spin around, livid, pointing a finger at him, “Listen,” I say, feeling the control slip away, “I don’t fucking care about no studio, kay? I gotta go outside!”

“Forget it!” Kevin mingles into the conversation again, “I really am not keen on this new attitude of yours! You’re staying right here, whether you like it or not, I couldn’t care less!”

“Fine,” I yell, instead walking over to a confused bus-driver, quietly slipping him a hundred dollar bill. “Stop now, let me out and tell them I made you do it,” I whisper, quickly watching over my shoulder, seeing Kevin trudge towards me with his face promising thunder. Before he can stop me I jump out of the stopped bus and start sprinting in the other direction, vaguely hearing Kevin yelling that they are in no way going to wait for me.

Fine, I think, fine, I don’t care, I don’t belong here.

6.

I see him sprinting towards me with a pissed look on his face. Without stopping, he grabs the sleeve of my shirt, effectively pulling me across the busy road to the other side of the walkway. I don’t protest as he guides me through the crowd, that’s mainly walking in the other direction. He chooses an alley between two stores and finally stands still, taking a deep breath and scanning the area cautiously. Once he’s satisfied enough with the quiet, he looks me in the eyes.

“What did you do to me?” he barks, not even trying to be polite. When I don’t answer immediately, he grabs my upper-arms and shakes me, “Who the hell are you and what did you do?”

I watch his tense face that seems on the verge of panic and decide that now is not the best time to tell him the truth. Not yet.

“It doesn’t really matter who I am, does it?” I state cryptically, fairly satisfied with my answer for the time being.

“Is this all real? Am I hallucinating?” the blond man rushes.

“This is all very real,” I assure him, smiling at his question. He doesn’t have the slightest clue on the reason why he was brought here, and it’s probably for the best if he knows as little as possible about the assignment.

Nick scoffs, incredulous, “I can’t believe it worked.”

“Of course it didn’t work,” I comment quietly, but he hears it nonetheless.

“What, but you said…”

“You really think someone thinking about a particular moment in their past is going to bring them back? That’s called nostalgia, Nick, not time-travel. I also assume this was not the particular time you were thinking about in the first place, was it?”

“Then how…” he stammers, his voice rising in pitch.

Watching him intently, I adjust my cap and take a deep breath, “You’re here because I need your help, Nick,” I admit.

The seemingly teenager blinks owlishly, dumbfounded by my sudden declaration.

“Dude,” he yells after a few moments of silence, “who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Roland, nice to meet ya!” I comment with a grin, extending my hand. He doesn’t accept it immediately, instead watches me with an uncomfortable look in his eyes.

“I don’t know you,” he informs me, “so how do you know my name?”

“You’re Nick Carter, singer in the boyband The Backstreet Boys,” I reply with a straight face, like it’s totally normal for a dude my age to know or care about the kind of pop-music.

“We’re not a boyband,” he grumbles, spitting the last word out as if it’s something really distasteful to say.

“Oh right… I forgot… you were a vocal harmony group, right,” I state, nodding, trying to leave the ridicule out of my wavering voice. He narrows his eyes dangerously, his young face scrutinizing every inch of mine.

“There’s no such thing as time travel,” he declares stubbornly, though he looks around a bit unsure.

“And yet here you are,” I counter, getting a bit impatient with the young man, “As far as you and most everybody else is concerned, no, there’s no such thing as time travel. But for a few among us, it is the only way to get certain things done.”

“The fuck man? Are you from the government or something?” he questions.

I sigh, “Or something,” and leaving it at that.

Nick steps back, seemingly trying to figure out what is going on, it takes a whole minute before he looks at me again, “Just… just tell me what you want from me and then let me go back,” he offers quietly, watching with hopeful eyes.

I nod slowly, overthinking his comment, “Sounds reasonable,” I conclude. He nods eagerly.

“So?”

“So, I need you to stay with the group for, say, a week, while I try to reach something that belongs to one of your friends’’ I state solemnly, following the instructions word for word.

“What? No man, I ain’t gonna let you steal from my friends!” He shouts, backing off, “I don’t care, okay? I’ll find my own way back, you just, stay out of my way, alright?”

“Listen to me,” I hiss angrily, deciding it’s my turn to grab his sleeve, “I can assure you that he won’t be missing it, it’s not a big deal as far as you or him are concerned, got it?”

“Then why do you need me?” he sneers, his anger matching mine.

“Because I need a distraction, I can’t screw this up again, it’ll mess with the timeline, I need you to keep him away.” If he noticed my slip at all, he doesn’t mention it, instead he lets his shoulders slump, and stares at the ground, lost in thought.

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who do I need to keep away?”

“Ah yes,” I comment, reaching inside the pocket of my stained jeans and retrieving the small notes I’ve been able to keep with me the whole time, “ummm, ah, here it is, one mister B. Littrell,” I state, watching him for confirmation. He doesnt seem to think it the slightest bit weird that I apparently know his name, but seemingly not the one of his friend

A look of pure confusion crosses his face, “Brian? What do you want from him? And why do you have to get it now? In ’99?”

“That’s a lot of questions my boy. This year is the first I know of that he has it in his possession, again, he won’t be missing it,” I reassure him when I can sense he’s about to protest again.

He’s still hesitating, I can feel it. As far as he knows, we’ve only met once before, it would be weird if he trusts me right away. His eyes shoot from me to the back of the alley we’re in, trying to contemplate his options, “Nick, listen, I’m the only one that can bring you back to 2014, I can let you be stuck here as long as I want if you don’t help me. Trust me, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I was sure there was another way. I need you to do this.”

The teenager sighs, nodding slowly, “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I’m not the guy I was when I was nineteen.”

“Dig deep, you’ll find him back,” I smile, a bit squirming under his intent gaze.

“I swear I know you from somewhere,” he states.

“I have a common face,” I reply.

He shrugs, “Whatever. Am I supposed to get back on the bus? Kevin will barbeque my ass.”

“Just get back and apologize, you’ll be fine,” I confirm.

“Okay,” he nods reluctantly, turning around.

“Wait!” I stop him, reaching for another note in my pocket, “This is my number, call me in three days.”

He nods again, accepting the fumbled piece of paper wordlessly. “One last question?” he asks in a small voice.

“Go ahead,” I sigh dramatically with a smile.

“If I’m here, you know, in 1999, then where’s nineteen year old me?”

“Probably still very confused trying to figure out how he ended up on Bendrick Road. It’ll take him a while to walk back to the highway, but he’ll probably be fine.” I inform him.

Nick smiles and shakes his head before he turns around, heading back for the bus. I watch him with a quivering smile, hoping and praying that this time, it will work.

I only half listen to Kevin’s endless tirade and try to keep an annoyed expression on my face. It’s getting harder by the second as I try not to pay attention to Brian, who’s carefully crept up behind Kevin and pulls the strangest faces as he tries to dramatically imitate his older cousin. I make a weird noise as I try to stifle a snicker and Kevin stops mid-sentence.

“Do you think that’s funny?” he barks, slowly turning to follow my gaze. Brian flashes him a wide, innocent grin.

“Ugh, grow up you two,” Kevin grumbles, though I sense a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He shoots Brian an accusing glare and stalks off to the back of the bus.

“Hey, it’s not our fault you were born old!” Brian calls out to his retreating back.

“Thanks,” I say as soon as I’m sure Kevin is out of earshot.

“De nada,” Brian states as he slaps a hand on my back, “I mean, he could just say, don’t leave the bus again or I’mma cut off your balls, but no, instead he goes on and on and on and-”

“On?”

“Exactly my point,” he nods, “You are gonna act normal again now, right?”

“What fun would that be?” I shrug, grinning madly.

Brian laughs, slapping me on my back again, “That’s my boy! Hey, if you want, we could catch a movie together again some night.”

I frown, surprised at his offer, “Are you asking me on a date?” I ask tentatively. To be honest, I cannot remember the last time Brian and I watched a movie together, or did anything together outside of work for that matter. I don’t say that, obviously, because this Brian doesn’t know anything about that. In fact, as a nineteen year-old, this Brian was the closest thing I had to a brother, or any relative.

“You’re hilarious,” he mutters, “No man! I just… kinda noticed I kinda, you know… neglected you since I got a girlfriend… you know? We should definitely catch a movie… or something… kinda…”

I smile, remembering this Brian was also a grammatical mess whenever he wanted to express something he felt important. I nodded my approval and saw Brian do the same.

“I missed this,” I muttered, being careful to not let my friend hear it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the afternoon consisted of us arguing over which movie we would go to, and three interviews in which I had to do my absolute best to be able retrieve all of the memories that would go along with the current timeline. Apparently it was May 1999, one year after the heart-surgery, one month before the start of the Millennium Tour, which the world was growing more and more nervous for. It was beyond my wildest imagination to have this kind of attention drawn to the group again and frankly, I had no idea how to handle myself, and I’m not sure I did have an idea when I was nineteen.

After three days of interviews, in which I got various uncertain looks from both hosts and bandmates, we were finally off work. Brian decided to drag me to go see Fight Club with him, under weak protest. To him, the movie might be brand new, but I have already seen it countless times on TV as well as on DVD. There’s no such thing as DVDs in ’99, so I decided not to express my annoyance that much.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over that plot-twist!” he exclaims when we walk out of the cinema’s back door, carefully disguised as to not draw attention to the fact we were in world’s most famous boyband. I only shrug, my head in overdrive, but not because of the movie. I nervously fumble with the damp note in my jeans’ pocket.

Three days. He said to call me after three days. It’s been three days. I wonder what he’s done in those three days. Would he have already gotten his hands on whatever he wanted from Brian in just three days? Can I finally go home?

Do I want to go home?

Brian doesn’t really notice my disinterest in the movie and gives me an incredulous look as I fail to match his excitement of the plot-twist. “Come on man, don’t tell me you saw that coming! I mean, he wasn’t real! He was just all in his head, he was like… you know… basically two people! Nobody could have seen that coming!”

I shrug again, getting a bit uneasy, “I kinda did,” I comment curtly.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!” his voice resounds through the empty alley behind the theatre. My eyes scan the darkness tentatively. We should have brought security.

“Could you keep your voice down? You wanna draw a herd of teenage girls our way?” I say, trying to sound jokingly, but knowing I’m failing, as I’m not really talking about teenagers. I don’t really know what would happen to me if I got myself killed right now, but I do know enough about time-travel to know what would happen if Brian got stabbed tonight. The future would be one big mess.

“Right, what’s a crowd of teenagers gonna do in a back alley at 11.30?” Brian jokes nervously, finally noticing my intense gaze, “Oh… I see,” he mutters eventually.

“Just stay here, I’mma call us a cab, kay?” I announce, swiftly walking around the theatre before he can follow me. With my hands shaking, I retrieve the small note from my pocket and dial the number in a telephone-box, not really wanting to use my own cell-phone. A mechanic voice informs me of the terms of the telephone’s use and I smile vaguely at the nostalgia. The smile fades as the call swiftly connects and a gruff voice answers.

“You’re late.”

“How’d you know it’s me?”

“Not important, where are you?”

“In front of a cinema.”

“Good. Come and meet me at the Grunloff Park in thirty minutes,” he orders, and I get the instant feeling he wants to hang up right away.

“Wait! What? Tonight?”

“Yes.” His short answers do nothing to calm my nerves and I bit my lip hard, tasting the coppery tinge of blood.

“But… I can’t! Brian’s with me!”

“Good.”

“But I thought-” I trail off, hearing the dial tone flooding my ear. My heart hammers in my throat and I try to take a deep breath to coax it to calm down, but to not much avail.

Something is not right. Roland told me to keep Brian away, but now he doesn’t mind that my bandmate is with me. Maybe he just wants to talk. Maybe it’s too important to wait until Brian gets dropped off at the parking lot were the busses are parked.

I tread around the cinema carefully after calling a cab company, seeing Brian sitting exactly where I left him.

Before he can berate me for walking out on him, I put up a hand, cutting him off.

“They said someone will be here in five minutes,” I announce, trying to ignore his burning stare into the side of my head. We walk quietly to the front and sit down on the small railing at the edge of the street in silence.

After exactly five minutes, a taxi pulls up in front of the cinema and I sigh in relief, finally freed of the tense silence between me and my bandmate. I swing open the front door to talk to the short, Asian looking driver.

“To Grunloff Park please,” I say and notice Brian turning to look at me instantly.

“Dude, the parking lot is the other way,” he calls, as if I don’t know that.

“I know, there’s just something I have to do first,” I answer mysteriously, looking at my watch. We have exactly fifteen minutes to get there and I feel a sweat that has nothing to do with the warm night’s air forming on my forehead. Brian backs away uncertainly, his frown growing deeper.

“Are you in trouble, Nick?” He asks me, giving me the intense gaze that always used to make me give in and tell him everything. It doesn’t work this time though, mainly because I have no idea in just how much trouble I am. I shake my head quickly, not looking him in the eyes and motion for him to get in the cab, noticing the driver is getting impatient. Brian tentatively enters the car, because this Brian trusts me.

He has no idea. And neither do I, I realize as we drive in silence to our unknown destination. I could fool myself, I could say I’m free to do what I want, but in fact, I’m just being held hostage, having no choice but to do whatever I’m told to.

And it stinks. It gives me a bad feeling. Whenever I look over at Brian, I’m feeling guilty for some reason, as if I know something bad is going to happen. Something I got him into.

8.

The entire drive happens in silence. Instead of asking me twenty questions, Brian has chosen to give me his most imminent stare until I start talking deliberately, not willing to beg me for answers. His gaze bores holes through my skull and I’m pretty sure he can see the sweat that is trailing down my forehead. Maybe dragging him to a park wouldn’t be a problem if it was in clear daylight, but it’s almost midnight now and the whole city seems to be abandoned.

I almost jump in relief when the taxicab finally pulls up at our destination. I grab Brian, drag him out of the car and pay the driver, promising him a huge tip if he could stay and wait for about thirty minutes here. This way, I’m going to be out of money before I can say Millennium.

Although the city we’re in is quite big, the Grunloff Park is not much to speak of. The sandy path that winds through the bare grass is dusty and the park has only a few trees and bushes to decorate it with. As if I know where I’m going, I lead the way down the path, Brian following closely behind, determined not to lose me out of his sight.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” he grunts, carefully stepping over a stray branch, “I kinda missed your first explanation.”

“I have to talk to someone,” I offer.

“What? Now? It’s ten past midnight!” he comments disapprovingly.

I shrug, standing still at the open area in the middle of the park. This place too, seems void of all signs of life. Or-

“Did you hear that?” I hiss, turning around just in time to see Roland stabbing a needle into Brian’s neck.

“Hey! What are you doing!” I scream, lunging myself towards them. Two strong arms grab me from behind before I can reach them and hold me back.

“What the hell, man?! Let me go!” I demand, kicking and screaming I watch Brian’s eyes roll back as he falls limp into Roland’s arms. “You son of a bitch! You told me to keep him away! You told me to keep him away from you!”

“I lied,” Roland comments simply, hoisting my bandmate upright before sliding his arms underneath Brian’s legs, lifting him from the ground, “What do you boys eat? Twigs? He weighs nearly nothing! I gotta watch my back though, cause I have to admit I’m not the youngest anymore,” he chats as he leads the way out of the park. I follow him unwillingly, forced by the unknown arms that push me forwards. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s taller than me, and definitely much stronger.

We should have brought security.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once we’re out of the park, I get shoved roughly into the back of a massive SUV that Roland apparently parked on the opposite side of the park as where Brian and I had gone in. Before I can start on my escape plan, Roland carefully places Brian beside me, who immediately starts to slide down before I grab him.

“Keep an eye on him,” Roland informs before he walks around to the driver’s side.

A part of me has figured that if Roland wanted to hurt and/or kill us, he probably would have done so by now.

Although Brian is completely out of it, he seems alright.
His pulse is a bit too slow, but his breathing is fine.

“What did you do to him?” I demand, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. Anger has mostly turned to fear as I can’t seem to figure out what Roland’s intentions are with this.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poison, it’s just a sedative,” Roland’s raspy voice resounds through the car as he pulls the SUV away from the parking space, “Though I gotta admit, I probably used enough to keep a horse down, that’s why I need you to keep an eye on him.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he offers, looking at me in the rear-view-mirror, “There’s an old warehouse outside of the city.”

“I trusted you,” I comment, as the tension spreads from my chest to my stomach. I feel like throwing up as I watch Brian’s eyelids flutter helplessly, trying to open, but not having the strength to do so.

“No, you didn’t, Nickolas. You had no choice. None of this is about you, basically.”

“Then what?” I lash out, frustrated.

“Listen, the part where I said I needed something that is your friend’s is still true. It’s just that he has to be there when I take it, otherwise it won’t work. That’s where the strong sedative comes in, we can’t have him waking up too soon.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” I comment. By now I have thrown my kidnap-theory out as well. He clearly drugged Brian, but didn’t find it particularly necessary to drug me too, or to hide where we were going. I can only guess about what he wants from us, and it’s making my heart hammer all over the place.

“Please, mister Carter, trust me when I say I take no pleasure in doing this and have no intention of hurting you or your friend, it's going to be for the greater good, eventually,” Roland’s voice sounds soft and reassuring, but I’m having a bit of trouble trusting his words at the moment.

“Then wh-”

I shut my mouth as the car suddenly comes to a stop. I notice Roland sigh and stare in the distance for a few seconds before he walks around the car and fishes Brian out of the backseat. Almost solemnly, he carries him inside, closely followed by me and the giant guy that has taken hold of my arms again and turned them behind my back, making me powerless.

I try to look around as we enter the warehouse silently.

Roland wasn’t lying when he said it was an old abandoned warehouse. The area is empty aside from a few wooden boxes and some giant staging in the middle. Roland walks towards it, grunting as he lays Brian down on the first stair.

“Miguel,” he calls and I get shoved forward, making me assume the guy behind me is called Miguel. “Se puede ir,” Roland comments. Miguel nods and my heart surges in the false hope that maybe now I’m freed of the tense hold on my arms and on my life. Before I can do or say anything though, I hear an unmistakable click, followed by another, indicating I am now chained to the wooden staging.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Roland orders before walking to the far other side of the building, massaging his back as he walks.

“Bri? Bri, can you hear me?” I whisper harshly, trying to get close to my unconscious friend. The handcuffs rattle and I feel my shoulder nearly popping out of its socket as I strain to hear him breathing. It’s a bit more erratic than before and my heart drops ten floors as Brian doesn’t even flinch when I shake him roughly. “Come on man, we gotta get outta here!”

“Don’t sweat it, kid, he can’t hear you,” Roland’s voice echoes as he walks back to the staging, his hands full of instruments I can’t directly call by name.

“He needs a doctor, you jackass!” I yell, pulling against my restraint.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“So you’re a doctor now too, all of a sudden?” I sneer, seeing him pulling out what looks like a stethoscope, only a really advanced version of it. With a display.

“He’s fine,” he comments, not taking his eyes off of Brian while he examines him, “we just gotta make this quick.”

“Make what quick?” I scoff.

“You’ll see, Nickolas, all in its time, alright? It’s gonna be fine.”

“No, it’s not, you son of a bitch! He has a heart defect, you can’t go around putting sedatives in people with heart defects!” I try, not knowing or caring if my statement is true.

“From what I heard, that defect was fixed last year. Which is why it has to be done now, while he’s still young enough.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Roland’s jaw clenches as he gets up, rummaging through a bag and carefully retrieving a series of tubes and wires.

My eyes get wide, my mouth goes dry and I’m sure I suddenly get three shades whiter than before.

“You-you’re n-not gonna-” I stammer, scrambling back, pressing myself into the hard wood of the staging.

“I don’t just need some object of your friend here, like you may have assumed,” Roland mumbles, his voice muffled as he rips open a package with a sterile syringe with his teeth. “I need his blood.”

9.

Defeated, I sit in silence on the first stair of the staging, next to Brian, carefully raking my free hand through his damp hair. I try not to watch Roland prepare my bandmate for what appears to be a transfusion. It’s too crazy to think about. The silence lingers on, while Roland seems to be content by my lack of comments on the matter.

“I led him to that park,” I mutter, finally revealing what’s been pressing on my mind for over an hour now, “he’s gonna hate me for this, he’s never gonna forgive me, never gonna trust me again. How is that not messing with the timeline?”

Roland gives a non-committal shrug, finally sitting back, done with his work. “He’s most certainly not going to remember any of this. He’s just gonna wake up in his room, wondering why he feels so weakened, but he’s gonna be fine. And you’re gonna tell him that.”

I scoff, “Forget it, I’m not playing, I don’t want to have anything to do with this anymore.”

“Yes you will, you’re gonna wake him up in a few hours inside that hotel room the two of you share, and you’re gonna tell him that if he doesn’t want to faint in a public area again, it’s better to start eating a little more. Kid looks like a twig on legs.”

“Maybe I should just tell him the truth.”

“Oh you should,” Roland challenges threateningly, “I bet he’ll really like that story, if he will at all believe you.”

I sigh in frustration, feeling helpless tears threaten to spill out as I watch the blood slowly drip from Brian’s arm into a plastic sealed bag. “So what, you’re gonna just drain him dry?”

A soft smile plays on Roland’s lips, “Of course not.”

“How much blood do you need?” I ask, not believing I would ever ask such a question.

“About two units, maybe two and a half, but don’t worry, I brought spare, we can fill him up again, when we need to,” Roland replies, pointing at the plastic bag of medical supplies.

Incredulously, I shake my head, smiling in spite of everything, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Roland shrugs, tapping the IV lightly, “Once,” he offers curtly.

“Great,” I mutter, my stomach dropping. “Are his lips supposed to get blue?” I ask, shooting upright.

“No, they’re not,” Roland frowns, “it’s a bit soon, but I think we’ll need to start that other IV now, if we don’t want him to bleed out.”

I swallow thickly, staring at Roland, then at Brian in horror. “What should I do?” I ask, uneasy.

“Just watch his blood-pressure and warn me if the first number drops below 90, okay? Okay.”

Chewing my lip, I watch the small screen beside me like a hawk. I don’t even dare to blink as I see the number turn from 97 to 96 and I nervously fumble with the restraint on my wrist.

“All set,” Roland announces after a few moments, “It should be going up again now.”

I look up, “I’m not even gonna ask how you know he’s B-neg.,” I mutter with a sigh.

Roland smiles mysteriously, “I did my research.”

“Unbelievable,” I comment, sitting back while I try to rub the warmth back into Brian’s fingers again, “It’s a good thing he’s unconscious, cause he would throw a fit if he could see this,” I say, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation I find myself in.

“Yeah, I know he would,” Roland mutters purposefully. I watch him for a few seconds. He doesn’t look worried, just a bit tired and I instantly wonder how old he is again.

“Why are you doing this?” I try for the 30th time in one hour.

He just sighs and shakes his head, “Just… desperate measures, I guess... I mean, have you ever found yourself in such a big mess, you would do anything, really anything, to change things?”

I scoff, unbelieving, “How’s taking his blood gonna change anything?”

“Forced recapture,” Roland mutters and I instinctively know it’s something he hasn’t meant to say out loud. He clenches his jaw, “You’ll understand once, but until then, it’s better you know as little as possible about the timelines. Just believe when I say I’m only trying to help you and your friend here.”

“Why’d you take me? I mean, you don’t really need me like you said you did, right?”

“Maybe not in this timeline, but you will play a very important role in others,” he answers cryptically.

“So what, you just shoved me back in ’99 to give me a taste of what it’s like? How’s that working out?”

“It works out if you ask as little questions as possible,” Roland grumbles.

“Unless-” I say, trailing off, my head spinning as the thoughts race through my mind, “Unless it wasn’t as much as to get me here, as to keep me away from there…” I think out loud, jumping up, “What’s gonna happen in 2014?! What am I gonna do?”

“Only you know the answer to that question, Nickolas,” Roland replies, but I can see he’s lying.

“I’m gonna do something bad, aren’t I? That’s why you brought me here, to prevent it!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it is not about you! If it was, would I be sitting here draining your friend of his blood? No! Not everything is about you Nick! I just need you to understand that! I can’t do this on my own, but I can’t risk too many people knowing about it either.”

“Who are you?” I ask stonily, “I bet Roland isn’t even your real name.”

“It’s my dog’s name,” he offers. “Looks like we’re done here.” He points at Brian as he finally starts unhooking the tubes and needles. Without casting it another glance, he shoves his stuff, including the now two filled IV bags of blood into his plastic bag again and starts cleaning the place of fingerprints. I sit and watch, a bit astonished by the sudden end of our trial.

“Are you going to help me get him back in the car, or-?” Roland-who-is-not-called-Roland questions.

I snort angrily, holding up my bound wrist for him to see.

He nods, understanding, “Ah, right, sorry about that. There’s a pin next to circle thingy, if you pull it out, you should be freed.”


I hang my head shamefully. I should have thought of that.

After I followed Roland’s instructions, I pick Brian up gently, carrying him out of the building. It’s a very good thing he’s still unconscious. That way he doesn’t have to know what happened to him tonight. Roland was right, I can’t tell him the truth, whatever that may be. Besides, it actually is a little too easy to pick my friend up and carry him around, considering his weight. Maybe he’ll believe the lies.

Cause I’m starting to believe more and more that he’ll be better off if he just believes the lies.

Having given up on sleep, I keep an incessant watch over my bandmate. I know that every time I try and close my eyes, I’m back in the old warehouse, watching the blood drain from Brian’s body and not being able to do anything about it. I desperately try to think of some explanation to tell my friend when he wakes up, but so far, I haven’t really come up with anything convincing.

“W-why are you looking at me like that?”

I look down, seeing him blink in confusion. His eyes are a bit glassy and he has a hard time focusing, but otherwise he seems alert.

“H-how you doing?” I stammer.

“Fine…” he mutters, frowning as he studies my face, “are you okay? You seem a little… spooked.”

“Am I- am I okay? You’re actually asking me if I’m okay?” I scoff, shaking my head in amazement.

“I-I think I just did,” Brian replies, trying to sit up. He sways dangerously for a moment and I grab his arm to steady him. “Woah…”

“Take it easy,” I instruct.

“It’s fine. Just a little dizzy. What’s going on?”

“What do you remember about yesterday?” I ask, my face stern.

Brian looks at me for a few moments, trying to make sense of the intense stare I give him, “Umm, we-uh, we went to that Fight Club movie, right?” he clarifies, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

I nod, “What else?”

“Uh, I don’t know. You called a cab and-” he trails off, his gaze shifting, “Did we go to a park?”

I clench my jaw nervously, nodding slowly, “Yeah, yeah, I had to meet someone there, remember?”

“Not really,” he admits, shooting me a helpless glance, “I just remember being worried that you were in trouble, that you were gonna do something stupid. I followed you into the park and-”

I try not to show the panic I feel when I notice him unconsciously touching the spot on his neck where Roland stabbed him with the needle. Instead I nod stiffly, trying to look anywhere but at his face.

“Nick, what’s going on? You’re kinda freaking me out,” Brian whispers, fear creeping into his voice. “I don’t- I don’t remember going back, I don’t know how I got here. What happened?” he grabs my wrist, forcing me to look at him.

“You- You scared the crap out of me, that’s what happened,” I say, taking a deep breath and see him frowning at me, not understanding. “You always scare the crap out of people, Brian, and now you tell me that you don’t remember?” my voice rises in volume as my statement sounds more and more accusatory. I decide it’s better to keep the exact details of my false story out of the picture for as long as possible. I notice it’s actually working as a guilty look flashes over my friend’s face. Only Brian can do that, feeling guilty for something he doesn't know.

“Nick, I’m not lying,” he tries to convince me, “I really don’t know. I only remember this odd pain in my neck and then… that’s it.”

“You passed out,” I mutter, looking away. If I look at him right now, he’s going to know I’m lying in a heartbeat, “I thought you were dying, man!” I glare, the fear lacing through my voice. The little bit of truth in my words give me something to build on as I see Brian struggling with the little chunks of information I give him.

“I- what? How?” he stammers, confused.

“I don’t know!” I throw up my hands in frustration and stand up to pace the room for good measure, “You were completely out of it, I had no idea what to do, man! I wanted to take you to an ER, but figured it was best if we just headed back to the hotel, I know how you hate hospitals,” I add, thanking God for Brian’s irreversible fear of hospitals, making the story just a tad bit more believable. “When’s the last time you ate a decent meal, dude?”

Trying to hide my relief, I watch Brian avert his gaze, looking to the ground instead, “I dunno,” he mutters, defeated, “I guess I just been a little too busy with everything that’s going on, you know? It’s a little hard to think about decent food when you’ve got a whole tour ahead.”

“Yeah, McDonalds isn’t everything either,” I sigh, “but it’s better than nothing. You should take care of yourself, for a change. You look like a twig on legs.” I flinch, repeating Roland’s words. I feel kinda bad for lecturing Brian about something that isn’t necessary per se, but on the other hand, he seems to be buying it, indicating there might me some truth to the story.

“You know what’s funny?” he muses, watching me with a small smile, “I thought the exact same thing yesterday… twig on legs.”

I swallow thickly, “So I’m right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding slowly, “it won’t happen again, alright? I promise.”

I nod, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Damn straight it wouldn’t happen again, I’d make sure of that. “Good.”

“When did you get to be such an adult all of a sudden, bro?” Brian smiles, punching my shoulder playfully, “I would have expected the speech from Kev, but you on the other hand-”

“Oh you know, I kinda figured Kevin would go on and on and on and-”

“On?”

“Exactly.”

Brian laughs for a few seconds before his face turns serious. “Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t tell anyone I fainted, right?” he mumbles and as I look over, I see him looking down in shame.

“What? No, God no, that better stay between us, bro.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” I whisper after a few moments, as I watch Brian walk out of the room, still a bit wobbly. He would probably be as good as new by tomorrow, but nothing could change the horrifying images imprinted on my mind about last night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe I couldn’t rid myself of the guilt raging through my stomach, but it did seem kind of funny watching Brian struggle himself through an intensive dance-rehearsal that morning. Although it was getting better, his balance was terrible and he moved with the speed of a snail at times.

I try not to laugh as he shoots me another panicked look, then nervously checks if anybody else has noticed his lack of rhythm that day. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for me, everybody else has too much attention for my poor memory of dance moves I haven’t performed in fifteen years.

“Nicky, dude, you move like an old man,” AJ lets me know when finally, the instructor calls a break. “You sure you’re not 91 instead of 19?”

“I dunno,” I answer, “If my pimpled face doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what does.”

“It’s not fun if you start making fun of yourself,” Alex corrects me seriously, “Only we get to make fun of you.”

“Get in line then,” I smile, standing up to stretch my legs, “I’mma get a soda, you guys want anything?”

“I’ll go with you,” Brian offers, leading the way out of the rehearsal room. “Thanks, dude,” he says once we’re out in the hall.

I give him a confused look, “For what?”

“For pretending not to know the moves, I don’t think anybody even noticed I was actually the one that really sucked, thanks to you.”

My eyebrows shoot up as I finally understand what he’s implying, “Riiight…” I mutter, slowly nodding, “That… that is what I was doing… yeah.”

“Thanks again,” he says, grabbing a coke and waving a small bag of chocolate chip cookies in front of my face.

“You gonna eat those all by yourself?” I question incredulously.

“You bet,” he replies, turning around as he heads back to the rehearsal.

I smile, scoffing to myself. Brian has certainly learnt a lesson about the importance of food, even though it may not have been the cause of the problem to start with. I wait a bit impatiently for my own soda to drop when I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder.

“You told him the story?” Roland’s voice whispers right behind me. I tense in shock, dropping the spare change I just received from the vending machine.

“The hell man? Don’t do that,” I curse silently, turning, “What are you doing here?”

“Did you, or did you not tell him the story?” Roland insists. Although he’s about five inches shorter than me, his rough appearance seems all the more intimidating when he’s standing right in front of you.

“Yes, I lied to him, happy?” I spit and watch Roland nod in agreement, “He’s definitely going to make sure he doesn’t miss another meal of the day from now on, that what you wanted?”

“Sure, whatever,” Roland answers hurriedly. “Listen, our job is done here, we should head back.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes.”

The thought of going back to 2014 was soothing, as well as causing me to panic. In 2014, I had no idea what was going to happen, in 2014, we were on the brink of disaster. All because of-

When Roland grabs my wrist and jams some cold metal plate against my temple, I have only time to close my eyes before the pain explodes behind my eyelids. I feel myself falling, but don’t notice hitting the floor or anything else.

Apparently 2014

“Gah!” I wake with a shock, completely unaware of my surroundings. Blinking rapidly, I try to bring the blurry images into focus, but squeeze my eyes back shut when the flaming agony sneaks into my head. “Holy fuck!” I yell, grabbing at my head. The pain slowly intensifies and I know it would feel a whole lot better if I could just pass out right now. A guttural scream pierces my ears, and it takes a couple of seconds before I figure out it’s me who’s screaming.

“Ya okay back there?” a voice calls, sounding really far away. Just then I decide it’s the stupidest question I have ever heard.

I gasp, unable to form the words I want to say to shut the voice up. The pain lessens terribly slowly and I lay back into the leather, panting as if I’ve run a marathon.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Roland mentions, not taking his eyes off of the road. I cautiously get up, leaning on my elbows to see where the hell I ended up this time. At Roland’s comment I bring up my hand to touch the blood that’s running from my nose over my lips and dripping on the soft leather of the backseat. I flash Roland a fearful look into the rear-view-mirror.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly normal,” he assures, calmly driving the Interstate.

“Yeah, I figured you would say that,” I sneer hatefully. I am absolutely done with being at the mercy of a time-travelling lunatic with a preference for blood.

Roland chuckles softly, watching me in the mirror, “Your brain needs to adjust to the flexibility of time-travel. It needs to reinterpret the memories from both times. It gets worse every time you jump to another timeline.”

“Luckily we’re not planning on doing that anytime soon, are we?” I mutter, smearing the blood on my hand on the underside of the leather seats.

“Nope,” Roland confirms. “We have to finish something in 2014 first. A quite complicated procedure, I may add,” he smiles.

“You seem in a good mood,” I comment surly.

“I am,” he says before swinging my car into the exit.“I’ve actually never gotten this far. Lord knows I’ve tried enough times.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, deciding it best not to question further. His vague explanations make my head spin and groan as I lie back, feeling my stomach churn dangerously, “Where are we going this time?” I sigh.

“We are on our way to see an old friend of yours, I figured you’d like to have a word with him about what’s been happening around here lately,” he smiles, watching me expectantly. “I actually sent us back minutes before you crashed this car into the guardrail on Bendrick Road, how about that?”

“Spectacular,” I moan, shutting my eyes at the intrusive sunlight as I gently massage my temples.

“A little more enthusiasm might be in order, I’m also doing this for you,” Roland chides quietly, though he doesn’t sound all that mad.

“No way, you’re just dragging me along to everywhere. I don’t get a say in this,” I grumble.

“It’ll sure be interesting. I thought you actually wanted to change things,” he scoffs, fumbling with something on the passenger’s seat.

“I never meant you hopping in and scooping me to ’99.”

“Oh come on, you gotta admit, aside from the gruesome blood practices, it was kinda fun to be back, wasn’t it?”

“No,” I lie. He’s kind of right. ’99 marked a time of careless popularity. It felt pretty sweet to be the centre of the universe again. But most of all, in ’99, my friends were actually still my friends, and not just some colleagues I worked with.

“Okay, alright,” Roland relents, “time to stretch our legs.” He pulls over to a gas-station turning the engine off. The car jerks forward at the sudden action and a wide smile spreads on my face as Roland stares at the wheel in amazement. “Damn old cars,” he mutters darkly.

“You suck,” I let him know, swinging open the back door.

With a grunt, I stand up, swaying slightly on shaking legs. A few tentative steps later I head for the shop, suddenly starved. I contemplate making a run for it, leaving Roland outside by the car, but in all honesty, I have no idea where we are, or how to get back home.

He catches up with me before I can make any further plans, ordering two cokes and a bag of chocolate cookies. I frown as the sudden déjà vu hits me. Shaking my head, I watch him lead the way in amazement, slowly trailing after him.

We sit down on one of the picnic tables scattered around the gas-station. It’s silent for a few minutes while Roland stares off into the distance and I watch my shoes.

“You know, the time you almost ran me over, when we met?” he begins quietly, not shifting his gaze from the unfocused spot in the distance, “ It was Brian right? You said you were on your way to help him, despite of all the stuff he pulled on you and your friends?”

I nod, “Sort of.”

Roland finally looks my way, “We’re on our way to see him, but you must have already figured that out.”

I frown, not understanding, “Y-you can’t.”

“I know it won’t be easy.”

“No, I mean, you actually can’t!” I hiss, staring back at him, “Nobody knows where Brian is. He took off as soon as he figured out we were on to him. He doesn’t answer his phone, not to anyone. He’s just basically… disappeared. Vanished. Poof!”

“Good thing I happen to know where he is,” Roland mutters, averting his gaze.

“I don’t believe you,” I mutter, “I mean, you know a lot of weird stuff, but even you can’t know this from just research,” I spit out the last word, indicating I clearly don’t believe anything he claims to be research.

“He’s in Chicago, Illinois,” Roland replies simply.

I scoff incredulously, “Brian hates Chicago,” I state the fact as if it’s something everybody is supposed to know.

“Exactly, nobody would even care trying to look for him there,” Roland smiles.

I swallow, wondering if he’s telling the truth. I know there is a hidden meaning in most of his words and that everything he says is like a puzzle you have to decipher for yourself. Chicago.

When we get back to the car, Roland invitingly points to the passenger seat. I drop my can of coke when I see him lifting up the bag that has haunted my mind for the past two days.

“W-what are you going to do,” I stammer, backing away from the car slowly.

“Get in, you’ll see when we get there,” he says, carelessly tossing the plastic medical bag onto the backseat of my convertible. It might just be my paranoid imagination, but I can swear I hear the bags of blood landing on the leather seats, making my stomach churn for a second time.

“No- no,” I mutter, my voice shaking, “I rather you tell me now.”

“Damn it Nick, when will you ever learn to trust me!” Roland grumbles in frustration, “I’m doing this for the greater good, for the both of you, alright? Will you now please, get in?”

Not really knowing why, I open the passenger door, slowly sitting down. “What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?” I demand, slowly speaking every word as clear as I can.

“I already told you,” Roland smiles at my surrender, “Forced Recapture.”

Most of the drive to Illinois happens in silence. Mostly because I try to avoid all signs of conversation. Roland has apparently stopped trying to make me talk and just stares at the road ahead, a stoic expression coating his features. My best guess is that he’s some kind of FBI-dude from the future, judging on the way he claimed my car to be ‘old’, while it is a brand new 2013 model. The overflowing knowledge of the timelines also suggests that he’s done this quite a few times before. There’s something about him though, something really strange, but yet familiar. It’s like a giant déjà vu whenever I look at him, as if we’ve met somewhere, sometime, but I can’t remember exactly where and when.

Finally, I break the silence when I suddenly remember something, “I was supposed to go to Indiana! Everybody has to be worried sick!” I shoot upright from my slumped position in the passenger seat, instantly rummaging through the glove-box in search of my phone. Of course I don’t find it there and my shoulders slump when I hear Roland’s voice, “I’m afraid I left your phone on Bendrick Road.”

I let myself fall back into the seat, sighing, “You know, some people would consider this kidnap.”

“I’m aware.”

“They must think I’ve disappeared as well. You know they’re gonna come looking for me, right?” I muse, hoping it’s true. Considering nobody really put any effort in finding Brian, I’m kind of afraid how they handle it if they think I followed into his footsteps. On the other hand, I haven’t really done anything that would make them happy I was gone, unlike my bandmate.

“By that time we’ll be done,” Roland promises and I roll my eyes.

“Why are we even going there?” I squeak, afraid of the answer.

“We’re gonna talk,” Roland growls, “You and I are gonna have a word with that kid about what happened.”

“He’s gonna kick us right back out,” I scoff, shaking my head.

“Maybe not,” my companion mumbles.

“Is that what the blood is for?” I challenge, turning to look at him. He keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t answer, “What? Are you gonna scare him or something?”

“Or something.”

I bite my lip hard. Something stinks really bad about all this. Of course I’d like to know why Brian did what he did as well. It all seems so random and so completely out of character that I still can’t believe it, although it has been well over five weeks ago.

“I wish things would just go back to normal,” I admit with a sigh.

Roland nods, understanding. “I know,” he grumbles, then finally looks at me, his blue eyes boring into mine, “Nick, I’mma ask you a few questions and I need you to be completely honest, alright?”

“Like how you’ve been completely honest with me, Roland?” I comment, spitting out his fake name for good measure.

He sighs, “I’ll tell you everything once the time calls for it, it’s just best for now if you know as little as possible-”

“Because of the timeline, yeah, I heard you the first time,” I mutter, “Fine, what would you like to know that you don’t already know?” I ask, curious now. Roland always seemed to know more about anything than I did. What could possibly be in my knowledge that isn’t in his?

“I need to know when you’ve noticed a change in Brian’s attitude for the first time, and what it was like.”

“Like what?”

“Like something really radical, completely out of character, something that made you wanna check if he was still the same person or not,” Roland supplies, setting his jaw.

I sigh, watching the road stretch out before us, my mind wandering to a few months earlier, at a concert venue somewhere in Europe.



“When’s the after-party t’night?” he asks me, nervously hopping from one foot to the other, making me wonder if he maybe needs to pee.

“Eleven thirty,” I say, yelling over the loud music that fills the stadium, “Why?”

“Got room for one more?” he asks, eagerly watching my face.

“Since when do you do after-parties?” I question, dumbfounded.

Brian rolls his eyes, nervously watching the back-rows of the venue, “Since now,” he sneers, “Can I get in or not?”

“I thought your son was flying in tonight?” I hesitate, “Aren’t you supposed to be with him?” I frown, watching his agitated attitude with concern. I’ve tried dragging him to a few after-parties in the past. He never stayed longer than thirty minutes, later claiming never to go again. Obviously I’ve never understood his reluctance to go, but that didn’t mean I didn’t find it particularly strange that he was practically begging me now to let him come.

“Who cares, I’ll get him a sitter,” he mutters.

I’m too surprised to react instantly, my eyebrows nearly shooting through the roof. Never thought, or hoped, I’d see the day Brian would choose the club-scene over his family. Not at all if he knew his wife was going to give him hell about it.

“Ah- I- uh… okay,” I stammer instead.



“It was really weird, you know,” I say softly, still frowning. “He would show, all hyped up. You know, more than usual, which is a lot. Like he was on something real stronger than just coffee. I don’t think I actually expected him to show up at all.”

Roland nods, motioning for me to continue with an unreadable expression on his face, “When was this?”

“I dunno, like five or six months ago. It only got worse from there on out. He would show up late, or not at all, leaving us with thousands of disappointed, questioning fans. I think we actually got sued once or twice. He didn’t know, didn’t care either,” the hate in my voice betrays me, “then the charges started piling up. Assault, driving under influence, drugs possession, prostitution, I could go on and on,” I blurt out, finally noticing the silent tears running down my face, “it’s like… the exact opposite of everything he’s ever stood for.” I don’t say it felt like watching me, AJ and my little brother combined. A catastrophic loss of control and a desperate cry for attention.

Unlike my helpless tears, Roland’s face is the perfect definition of anger. He’s gotten a few tints more red, clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles have gone white. It’s usually quite hard to read his expression with the unkempt beard covering half of his face, but this time, it’s clear as daylight, as the emotions are pouring out of the look in his eyes. Hatred. “That little fucker,” he mutters under his breath, but I don’t have to strain to be able to hear it. “Any idea why he’s gone down this path?”

“None,” I sigh, wishing I could say I did, “first I assumed he just needed to blow off a little steam. He’s been really stressed out the past few… well … years, actually. You know, with his voice being screwed to hell and all,” I add. We used to tiptoe around the subject, trying to convince him it wasn’t so bad, that it most definitely would go better next time, but we all knew the truth, and Brian knew it better than anyone. “But he would never abandon his family, not in the way he has, anyway.”

“But he did, five weeks ago, correct?” Roland grumbles, his voice biting back on the hate he tries to hide in vain.

“Yeah, he just… disappeared. Nobody knows why, or where he is. I guess we’re all just kind of scared we’re gonna find him lying dead in a dish sooner or later. I wish I could understand what he thinks he’s doing.”

I can’t help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite, as I realize people must have said something in the same sense about me all those years ago. I just always assumed Brian knew better, as he was always the one caught in the middle of all of it. You’d think we’d know what to do by now if one of our own got caught inside a downwards spiral, but time after time, we are just outsiders, trying to hold up the last strings connecting us to sanity.

I snap out of my thoughts as I notice Roland banging the steering wheel with his fists in frustration, giving way to a string of swears. The hostility in his gaze scares me as I watch his angry face in shock. “A-are you okay?” I ask tentatively.

“This has gone on long enough…” he growls, his voice hoarse, “I’m ending it.”

I try not to let him notice he’s scaring the hell out of me as I sit back uneasily. “Please don’t hurt him, okay?” I wheeze pathetically, knowing by now Roland is capable of anything at this stage.

“Nick, listen,” he sighs, “Some things need to be done in order to help him. Not all of those things will make sense to you, but it’s for the best, keep that in mind. I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m gonna tell you,” he states, looking into my face with an intense stare that seems so familiar it instantly takes my breath away.

“Oh-okay,” I squeeze out, feeling my entire body tense up.

It takes a few moments before Roland continues talking, “the Brian you just described to me is a whole different person than the one you know.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I scoff.

“No Nick, damn it! I mean, for real! It’s not Brian, hasn’t been him for six months, apparently. It’s someone else.”

“Excuse me? Are you saying he has a twin brother all of a sudden or something?” I laugh nervously.

“Or something.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’s gonna open it,” I mumble, watching Roland bang on the door loud and incessantly. I’m not entirely sure what kind of things I expected towards the end of our trip, but sitting on a bench facing a closed door of a crappy, cheap motel was not among them.
“How are you even so sure he’s in there anyway?”

“Cause he’s got nowhere else to go!” Roland snaps angrily.

“Give it up, man. If he has been here at all, he probably already left. And if he still is here, he clearly doesn’t want company,” I try to reason. During the last half hour or so, I got the feeling Roland has been balancing on the edge of sanity more and more. I try not to let it show, but it scares the hell out of me.

“Well, there are other ways to find out,” Roland mutters, slowly pulling out a Swiss army knife of his back-pocket.

With surprising expertise, he begins to fumble into the lock with it. I watch him with an uninterested expression, my hand supporting my chin. I should feel bad for breaking and entering in the middle of the night, but considering I don’t have much to do with it other than being dragged along, I can’t really feel guilty about it.

“Gotcha!” Roland quips as he swings open the old, crappy door. I stand up with a sigh, suddenly nervous. We carefully step inside the room. The chamber is one big mess, as if a nuke of clothes went off in there recently.

My stomach drops as I faintly recognize some of the clothes. Just one more thing to add to the list of strange, as Brian usually strikes me on the verge of OCD neat. Deciding there’s no such thing as ‘usually’ with Brian anymore, I wince as the sharp scent of alcohol hits my face.

“Told you he’s been here,” Roland whispers, slowly sneaking into the room, careful not to make any noise.

I follow behind him, amazed. The room is dark, yet it looks too bright for the dark practices that are seemingly going on in here. I swallow the bile that has reached my throat back down as I glance at the filthy bed sheets, covered in red stains.

“Ah, my life used to be so simple,” I groan, watching Roland inspecting the room for signs of life. “I’d just sing some sappy love songs, make millions of bucks, and never worry about a thing.”

“Sh!” Roland hisses, “Check the bathroom.”

I roll my eyes, “Whatever you say, boss.”

I approach the door to the bathroom cautiously, my heart suddenly hammering in my throat. I instantly get a strong feeling I am not going to like whatever I’m going to see.

I knock for good measure. “Nobody here, let’s go!” I quip, quickly turning around to leave the sickening motel room.

“I know you’re in there! Might as well show us your face!” Roland roars as he turns the doorknob to the bathroom and steps in.

I stand frozen on my spot, my mouth wide-open as I hear various objects clatter to the ground and a few muffled grunts escaping from the bathroom. A few seconds later Roland reappears with a struggling Brian in his grasp, not much unlike Miguel held me when we made our little trip to the warehouse. That ordeal seems ages ago as I notice Brian’s eyes flying all around the room, clearly searching for a way out. He looks different, his hair longer than I remember it ever being, as his curls nearly touch his shoulders. His face looks like he hasn’t shaved in several days and he has obviously lost a great amount of weight since the last time I’ve seen him. The pale complexion of his features tells me he hasn’t been in the healthiest of environments and I watch him with concern, almost forgetting all the shit he’s pulled on the group.

“Brian?” I whisper in shock.

Brian ignores me completely as he lunges for the door with a wild snarl, making Roland almost loose his grip.

“Woah, nope,” Roland comments calmly, “You’re not going anywhere, we need to talk, young man,” he sighs in disappointment as he fishes out a now familiar looking needle.

“No!” I yell, trying to stop him from using it. It’s already too late though as I watch the point sink into the skin of Brian’s neck in an extremely sickening version of a déjà vu.

“Grab his legs,” Roland states quietly when my former bandmate finally stops struggling and relaxes, watching me with a dull look in his eyes.

“What did you give him?” I snort angrily.

“I really wish I didn’t have to,” Roland sighs. He’s figured out I am not going to make a move to help him and drags Brian towards a chair, planting him there after he swiped the dirty clothes off. “I actually need him sharp and alert for this.”

“What did you give him?” I question again, trying to make my voice sound as demanding as I can.

“Tranquilizer,” Roland mumbles, “It won’t make him pass out, but it won’t make him very active either. I guess we’ll just have to wait.” With a discouraged grunt he sits down opposite of Brian, giving him a disapproving stare.

“So, now what?” I snap.

“Now, we wait,” he states, not taking his eyes of the dishevelled man in front of him, “Though it might be wise to tie him to the chair, before he makes another move to escape.”

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” I snarl in anger, “I should call the police.”

“Oh, you certainly should,” Roland replies, not impressed, “Tell them he’s here, they’d surely like to know. At this rate, he’ll probably end up in jail.”

I sigh in frustration, flopping down in a chair near the door, furthest away from Roland and his captive. Roland makes quick work of tying Brian’s hands to the back of the chair while I sit there, wondering how on earth my life has taken such a strange turn. I try to remember when my life was still normal, if it ever was, as I stare back at Brian, who’s mainly responsible for the giant mess all around us. He gives me an empty expression, blinking slowly, clearly not able to think straight. I shrug at him, indicating we are in fact both Roland’s captives.

“He’ll come around in a few minutes, I suggest you man up before that happens.”

I snort in disgust. I would give a thousand, maybe a million bucks to just be at home and help my mother with the dishes or something normal like that. I used to think it was strange that my brother cleans stray cats for no apparent reason, but as it turns out, there’s a whole new world of weird I had never even dreamt of. Maybe I should try to run, get away. Maybe it will be possible to snatch my car keys before Roland notices, and just… run out, away from this madness. Find someone to help me stop this two stupid idiots from doing stupid things, call Howie to-

“What the fuck’s this?” Brian’s head snaps up so fast I’m afraid he’s gonna have whiplash, and I jump a mile up in the air in shock at his sudden yell.

I can’t see Roland’s face as his back is facing me, but he calmly states, “You and me are going to have a nice long talk.”

“Screw you!” Brian spits, struggling weakly against his bound wrists. “Who the hell are you?”

“I think you know who I am, Thom,” Roland speaks the name with a bit of triumph.

“You’re crazy, old man,” Brian snarls, “let me go!”

Roland sighs, cocking his head to the side as he watches Brian tug at his restraints to no avail for a few seconds, “I thought we could settle this as adults, Thom, but you’ve clearly gone to mess it all up.”

I watch, too shocked to do or say anything, seeing Brian shooting Roland a look of pure venom, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he hisses, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See, Thommy, that’s the difference between you and me,” Roland continues in a calm, soft voice, “You’ve always been a sucker at hiding your emotions.”

Brian clenches his jaw, his eyes shifting from Roland to me, as if he’s seeing me for the first time, “Nick, what is happening here?”

My eyes widen as I look into his angry face. His eyes have always been the most expressive I’ve ever known. Even when he doesn’t wanna talk, you can easily tell something is wrong. Until now. There seems to be a big shield of superficial anger before anything and I shake my head uneasily.

“I- I don’t-”

“Nick,” Roland starts warningly, “Remember what we talked about?”

“What’s he calling me Thom for, Nick?” Brian hisses, leaning towards me.

Although he’s about ten feet away from me, I shrink back into my seat. Brian has never seemed intimidating to me, no matter what he does. But now… “I- I’m not sure I-” I stammer pathetically, looking from Brian to Roland and back.

“Cut the crap, Thom, we all know it’s you,” Roland states, clenching his fists in anger.

“He’s crazy, Nick! Can’t you tell?” Brian looks at me in frustration, “We should go!”

“So you can just dump his body in a trench somewhere and take off? I don’t think so!” Roland explodes and if I could, I would have made a hole in the ground to bury myself in it.

“Listen, old man. I don’t know who you are or how you found us, but you’re clearly having a mental breakdown or something,” Brian stammers, the panic now creeping into his voice. It is kinda funny to hear him accusing someone else of a mental breakdown and I can’t stop the nervous, choked laugh from escaping my throat.

“Or something,” Roland grumbles. “Listen, I need you to confess before we can go any further, so why don’t we just hurry it up, or we’re gonna sit here all night?”

Brian gives him a devious stare, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Roland gets up with an incredulous smile, “You are not Brian Littrell, you haven’t been him in six months. Your name is Thomas Burker, you’re from 2037, you ignored direct orders, and you’re in clear violation of the 67th code. How am I doing so far, Thom?”

“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re delusional! You should see a shrink or something!”

I watch in amazement as Roland leans towards his captive, their faces mere inches from each other, “It’s over, Thomas, you may stop lying now,” he whispers with a smile.

I’m pretty sure I’m on the verge of a breakdown as I nervously watch the stare-off between Roland and Brian.

I’ve always figured his ultimate stubbornness would land him in trouble one day, but this opens up a whole other dimension of trouble. I silently try to convince him to do just as Roland asks, even if it’s not true, because frankly, I have no idea what Roland is capable of exactly.

“Come on, Nick! You know me!” Brian’s voice drifts through the fog that seems all around me, “Don’t tell me you actually believe this lunatic!”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Brian!” I suddenly yell as I find my voice back. “I mean, what the hell are you doing here, in this room?” I wave my hands around wildly, motioning at the dark, filthy motel room that reeks of alcohol and sweat.

Brian looks at me for a few second before he lowers his head in shame, “I- I don’t know, I’ve messed up, okay? Big time,” he mutters to the ground, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“What happened to you?” I say, my voice only a bit more than a whisper, “You’re not the Brian I remember.”

“Of course he’s not!” Roland booms, “Who are you trying to fool, Thom?”

“Shut up!” I snap at him, slowly standing up before walking over to them, “Just… just let me talk to him for a minute, alright?”

Roland’s eyes shoot fire as I deliberately ignore him, leaning over to force Brian to look at me. “What happened, Brian?”

He swallows, nervously looking from me to Roland, back to me again, “I- I’m not sure. I don’t know what I was thinking, Nick,” he states, looking to the ground again. I hear Roland scoffing behind us, clearly annoyed. I ignore him, my heart aching for the ragged man before me. I remember being totally out of it, all those years ago. I had gotten myself in far too deep, didn’t think anything was ever going to be alright again, or that anyone was going to forgive me for the terrible things I’d said and done.

“It’s okay, Frick,” I mutter softly, “We’ll get through this, we always get through it.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes and I smile softly, only then taking sides.

“Oh come on!” Roland yells, “You can’t tell me you actually believe this crap! You said it yourself, Carter, he would never abandon his family, no matter what!”

Brian winces at the mention of his family, slumping in the chair as a sign of defeat. Roland jumps up, lashing out at him in anger. Brian grunts as Roland’s fist connects with his abdomen, doubling over in pain, his hands still tied behind the chair.

“I’ve had it up to here with your bullshit, Burker!” Roland roars outrageous, taking another swing, this time directed at his face.

In record speed, I jump up, noticing vaguely that Roland isn’t paying attention to anything else than throwing punches at a bound captive. As inconspicuously as I can manage, I sneak over to the plastic bag, slowly slipping out a needle. Without wasting any more time, I sprint towards Roland’s back, pulling him off of Brian. I wrap my arm around his neck and sink the needle into his skin, pushing at the top of the syringe.

“What th-” Roland starts before his legs give out. I let him slip to the ground slowly, pulling the needle back out.

“Here’s a taste of your own medicine, creep!” I smile triumphantly.

Brian watches me with one wide eye, the other one swollen shut, and his mouth wide-open in astonishment. After I’ve retrieved a pair of scissors from the bag, I walk over to him, cutting him loose.

“What did you give him?” Brian asks in a rushed voice.

I shrug, not really caring, the bag still in my hands. I look into it as I say, “When- when we were younger, what did you always say to me before we went on a plane?”

“Are you kidding me?” Brian scoffs incredulously.

“Just answer the question,” I state, carefully wrapping my fingers around another needle and holding it tight.

“You were afraid of flying,” Brian sighs, “so I told you I was scared too and that we could scream as loud as we wanted during take-offs.”

I smile, nodding slowly, “That always made me feel a little better,” I admit. “Come on, we should go.” Walking over to Roland’s now limp form, I snatch the car-keys from his pockets, grab the plastic medical bag tight and open the door, watching as Brian stumbles through the room, collecting some of his clothes. I wait impatiently for him to finish packing his meagre belongings as I hold open the door for him.

“Where are we going?” he questions as we walk towards the car.

“We’ve got work to do,” I grumble as I step into the driver’s side, disregarding the bag to the backseat. Brian eyes it suspiciously, as he slowly takes a seat next to me.

“What?”

“Do you have a phone?” I ask and see him shaking his head.

“That’s okay,” I mutter, planning ahead, “We’ll have to find a phone somewhere, so we can call the others, tell’em you’re coming back.”

Brian swallows with difficulty, not really liking the idea, “they’ll never let me come back, I’ve screwed up too much,” he mutters dejectedly.

“Yeah, well, everyone deserves a second chance,” I state stubbornly as I steer the car towards the main road.

Brian gives me a small smile, “Thanks for, you know… believing me.”

I clench my jaw, not daring to look at him, “Yeah… sure…”

2037

I open my eyes slowly, blinking rapidly at the intrusive light that floods my eyes. It does nothing to calm the raging agony that pounds through my skull and I squeeze my eyes back shut, moaning hoarsely. I try to ease the pain by massaging my temples, only to find out I can’t move my hands.

Annoyed, I open my eyes again, trying to sit upright.

After several failed attempts, I lay back down, discouraged. The room is completely bare, except for me and the table I’m lying on. It’s fairly cold, and I shiver as I look at the reason I can’t move my hands. Restraints. The type they put on you when you’re a danger to yourself and others. I don’t remember being a danger to anyone though and pull at the restraints in a flash of anger, almost feeling my wrists snap from the force.

“Hey!” I yell. My voice sounds foreign, even to me, which is not that big of a deal if you consider it has sounded messed up for years now. This time it doesn’t just sound messed up though, it sounds completely different and I abruptly snap my mouth shut in shock. A further inspection confirms my fear: my entire body seems foreign.

Breathing heavily, I feel the panic spread from my stomach, to the rest of my body, my heart hammering dangerously fast in my throat.

“Hey!” I yell again, squirming and kicking as I try to break loose, “Help! Help me!”

“Shh! Jesus!” A voice behind me hushes and I strain to catch a glimpse of the man creeping up to me and the table. “You gotta be quiet, Thom! They can’t know I’m in here, or that I woke you up!”

He comes to stand next to the table, putting his hands on his hips with a concerned expression on his face. Although I can’t really place him, he looks awfully familiar.

“Do I know you?” I question, scrutinizing the man next to me up and down.

“That depends, Thom,” he replies. Now that I come to think of it, he sounds familiar too.

“Did you just call me Thom?” I ask with a frown. My middle name is Thomas, but nobody has ever gotten it in their minds to call me that, let alone Thom.

“Yeah… but that’s not your name, is it?” he hesitates, raking a hand through his short, grey hair. Although I’m lying down, I can tell he’s pretty tall and I can’t shake the feeling I’m supposed to know him as his blue eyes bore into mine. If I had to guess, I’d say he was somewhere in his late fifties.

I slowly shake my head, not daring to look away from his intense gaze.

“B-Brian?” he tries, uncertainly.

I nod, startled as he suddenly jumps up, his hand flying to cover his mouth.

“Oh my God! It is you! I mean, they said… they weren’t sure if… Oh. My. God!”

I narrow my eyes, not making any sense of his rushed words, “Could you please tell me what’s happening here? Who the hell are you?”

“Nick Carter, nice to meet you,” the man reaches out his hand to shake mine, suddenly a mile wide grin on his face.

“You must be joking,” I reply sceptically.

“I wish I was,” he comments, his smile slowly fading.

“God, Bri, it’s so good to see you, it’s been so long!”

“What are you talking about, I saw Nick yesterday!” I yell, angrily pulling at the restraints. The man towering above me frowns, leaning in closer.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Brian?” he asks softly, his face a mask of concern and so much like Nick’s now.

It’s making me fairly uncomfortable and I stammer, “I- I dunno, I mean, it’s kind of fuzzy. I think I was watching a basketball game with Baylee,” I supply, looking at him questioningly.

He clenches his jaw, a look of sorrow crossing over his face, “How old are you?”

“I’m 39,” I answer, not understanding.

He swallows, nodding slowly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there were tears in his eyes, “Damn it…” he mutters, turning away.

“What’s happening to me?” I question, uncomfortably aware of how pathetic it sounds, but needing to know nonetheless, “Where am I? Why are you so old?”

“It’s – it’s a long story,” the man hesitates.

“Well, tough,” I state and would have crossed my arms if I could.

“You’re in a facility we call ‘Plainsworth’, you’ve been here for six weeks,” he speaks soft, slowly, “They- the others- wanted to keep you asleep until we had found a solution, but I- I guess I’m just too damn curious, I needed to know for sure. It- it’s 2037, Bri…”

If they could, my eyebrows would have shot through the roof at his last comment, “Okay, that’s funny. You- you’re funny. Who did that make-up? Sheila? She’s better than I imagined,” I comment weakly with a nervous laugh, “Joke’s over Nicky, let’s get out of here.”

“Damn it, Brian, you don’t understand!” He suddenly explodes and I scramble back on my table at his anger, “everything’s messed up! It’s all my fault! I-I should have trusted the right person…”

“Can you untie me n-?”

“Mister Carter, what do you think you’re doing down there?” a voice suddenly booms through the room and we both look up in shock. Through the glass, I can vaguely distinguish a female figure standing in a room higher up than ours, her eyes boring into Nick’s mercilessly.

“Dr Marquer!” Nick stammers helplessly, “I- I just…”

“You knew your orders, Mr Carter, you were to contact the captive in no way. You have ignored direct orders, Mr Carter. Unless you want to end up like him, you are required to come up for interrogation.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Nick mutters dejectedly, hanging his head.

I watch breathlessly as Dr Marquer nods sternly.

“Nick?” I question, my voice small.

He ignores me, his gaze still trained on the window above us, “What are you going to do to him now?” He questions, his expression unreadable.

“It’s best for everybody if we put him under again,” Marquer’s voice drifts through the speaker. My head snaps up to the window now as well, then I turn towards Nick, a pleading look in my eyes.

“Nick? What does she mean? What are they gonna-?”

Nick shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes, “I’m sorry, Brian, I’m so sorry I fucked up! I’ll come back and save you, alright? I promise! I'll come back for you.”

“Mr Carter!” the lady in the room above us warns, “Step away from the captive.”

Nick nods quickly, slowly backing away, “I promise,” he whispers.

“No! Don’t leave me here!” I scream, trashing wildly on the table, “Don’t you dare leaving me here! D-don’t… I- … what-?”

I blink, trying to bring the sudden blurry images that swim around me back into focus. My body relaxes before my mind does and the last thing I hear before I fall into a dreamless, long sleep is Nick’s sorrow-filled voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nick? Nick!” a voice drifts through the suffocating haze around me. “Goddamnit Carter! Wake up!”

With tons of effort, I manage to open my eyes to splits. A blurry face floats through my vision and after I blink several times, it finally takes a somewhat proper shape.

“Kevin?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Kevin Richardson grumbles, “I’ve been trying to wake you for ten minutes!”

Suddenly wide awake, I shoot upright, wildly looking around the room, “Where-… what-… how did you get here?” I ask, my words jumbled together in one big messy slur. Only then I notice the big frown on his face.

He looks pissed. Really pissed.

“Can you tell me what this is?” He questions slowly and I watch him retrieve an all too familiar looking syringe from behind his back.

“That son of a bitch…” I mumble in astonishment, looking at the needle with wide eyes.

“Nick?” There’s more than just concern in Kevin’s voice.

He seems… panicked.

“Oh! No! Ah, that is not what you think it is!” I exclaim, laughing nervously, “You see, I-… I can… we…. There’s…”
Helplessly, I snap my mouth shut, realizing there’s no way I can explain any of this to him, or to anyone for that matter.

“Cause to me it seems pretty clear,” Kevin fills in the blanks, looking at me with a mixture of anger and disappointment, “One derailed Backstreet Boy to deal with is pretty much all I can handle now, Nick! Damn you!”

“No! I wasn’t… You don’t understand! I was… I was tricked somehow,” I comment frowning as I think back to the events of last night.

“Right,” Kevin sighs, slowly standing up and turning away, “That’s always how it starts, isn’t it?”

“Damn it, I told you the truth, man!” I yell, getting angry now as well, “I have no reason to lie, I’m not using that stuff anymore, I haven’t used it in years!”

“But, then wh-?”

“No!” I cut him off, “Give me that needle,” I say, holding out my hand. I see him hesitating, “Please?” I add. He slowly hands me the syringe and I study it carefully. My best guess is that it contained the same stuff Roland gave Brian in ’99, when we- well, when he, took his blood, it would certainly explain why I feel so disoriented and dizzy right now, “How’d you know I was here, anyway?” I mumble, trying to approach a subject other than my supposed drug-use.

“You called last night, remember?” Kevin answer, sounding a bit annoyed, “it was like the middle of the night and you scared the hell out of Kristin.”

I nod in shame, the vague and distant memory of Kevin’s wife picking up the phone and my panicked speech slowly drifting to the surface, “Right, I’m sorry about that.”

“Anyway, you told me you were in Chicago, in a motel or something and then you just hung up on me all of a sudden!” Kevin states, his voice taking an accusing tone now.

I frown, “I did?”

“Yeah, took me like five or six hours to check all the motels around Chicago for a sign of Nick Carter.”

“He must have panicked when he figured out I called for backup,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else, “God damnit!”

“What, who?” Kevin throws me a confused look, “What are you talking about?”

I study his face for a few seconds, contemplating if I trust Kevin enough with this information, or if he will even believe me. Shaking my head, I decide that yes, I do trust Kevin and no, I’ve known him long enough to know he would not believe me, no matter how much I would explain.

If anyone, I would have gone to Brian for help, but that’s kind of a problem right now.

“I-I did something really stupid,” I mutter, not looking Kevin in the eyes, “I need to, to go back, and…” I rub my forehead in frustration, breathing heavily as I get up and walk to the door, “I’m sorry, I… I need to go.”

“Nick wait!” I hear Kevin yell behind me as he scrambles to his feet as well, running after me.

“I’m sorry, Kev. It’s all my fault. I need to fix it,” I mumble, not caring if he hears me or not.

“I’ll go with you!” Kevin states, determined.

“But-”

“I don’t care what it is, you are in no condition to drive right now,” he comments on the way I swerved towards the door, swaying dangerously as a result of the heavy sedative Brian, no not Brian, used on me. Before I know what happened, Kevin has snatched the car keys from my fingers, and walks confidently towards the parking lot.

“Whereto, brother?” He questions seriously and I smile, glad I’m at least not alone in this anymore. Not entirely, at least.

I cautiously steal a glance at him while we drive my rented car through the Chicago streets. I’m not really sure where we are going, but I’m glad I didn’t let him wonder off alone. Maybe I should have paid more attention to him this past few months, but all of our attention got sucked up by my cousin so much, I didn’t even think to be concerned about Nick. Of course, when he suddenly declared he’d had enough and was moving back in with his mom, some alarm bells should have gone off. But then again, it wasn’t Nick we were constantly getting police statements about.

I’ve stopped wondering where my cousin has gone wrong a long time ago. Because the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t add up, and all in all, it’s just a very questionable cause. For example, Brian hasn’t asked a soul for help, where Nick and even AJ have done in the past whenever they were in deep trouble. Of course I know my cousin is a very stubborn man, it kind of runs in the family, I guess, but this whole thing goes far beyond stubborn. This almost bridges on psychosis, and the thing that really bothers me is that there seems no clear, no real cause for his behaviour.

The late night phone call I received last night was one of the strangest I’ve ever had. Nick had sounded breathy, not at all like himself and I almost wanted to hang up because I didn’t recognize the caller ID. Unfortunately, before I could do so, Nick rushed a very vague story about being in Chicago and having done something incredibly stupid. I didn’t have much choice but to fly all the way to Chicago and to start scouring pretty much every motel in the neighbourhood of the airport. With incredible luck, I found an indication of Nicks signature at one of the motels at the front desk after only four hours.

Damn, Chicago has many motels.

“You okay there?” I question for what seems like the millionth time since we’ve been in the car. I’m still not sure what I have to believe when it comes to the several needles I found in his room. He’s told me time and time again that it’s not what I think it is. That he has been drugged by someone else, that he never ever has the intention to use anymore. But really, how much security can I get from those words? Should I really just give him the benefit of the doubt?

“Yeah,” Nick nods tiredly, “I just can’t seem to remember which motel he drove us to.”

“Awesome,” I mutter, “Which reminds me to ask, who are we exactly talking about here?”

“He, he’s… - we’ve been working together,” Nick replies reluctantly.

“Is he the one that drugged you?” I question, frowning in concern.

“N-no, I drugged him… it’s…” he sighs in desperation, “It’s complicated.”

“Right,” I nod, “You know, I called your wife,” I say, turning my attention back to the road.

Nick’s eyes widen and he clenches his jaw, “And?”

“Took me a whole lot to convince her not to go with me, she’s worried sick. So is your mom.” He scoffs without replying and I shake my head, “AJ had a shit fit when you didn’t show up in Indiana. I thought you told him you’d come?”

He shrugs, “Something got in the way.”

“Which brings me to another point, how’d you even get here?” I ask.

“Well, what do you think?” Nick snaps in irritation, “I drove, obviously.”

“Oh obviously,” I comment, pausing for a second, “then where’s your car?”

“Br- Thom must have taken it,” he sighs, leaning back to rub his face. “It’s been a real long night.”

“Thom the one that drugged you?” I try again, getting pretty tired of playing twenty questions with my former bandmate.

“Y-yeah. I shouldn’t have trusted him. He’s not… not what he seems,” Nick mutters and suddenly shoots up, pointing his finger, “There, there! Turn left!”

I frown, but do as he says as I pull up at a crappy looking motel. “What are we going to do here?” I sigh, not moving as I watch Nick jump out of the car, overly excited.

“With a little luck, he’s probably still inside. It’s pretty heavy stuff you know, could bring a horse down.”

“You mean the guy you drugged,” I comment, shaking my head. I almost smile to myself as it gets stranger and stranger by the second.

“Yeah, Roland… or… I call him Roland,” he states as he slams the passenger door closed.

“Hmm,” I muse, finally getting out of the car as well, “I had a dog named Roland once. When I was a kid.” I’m not really sure why I’m sharing this random information, but it seems to strike a chord within Nick as he instantly halts, his whole body tensing, and turns at me with wide, shock-filled eyes.

“What did you just say?” he questions breathlessly.

“Uhm… I had a dog named Roland as a kid?” I reply, dumbfounded, “Why, what does that matter?”

“Y-, How-… N-nothing,” Nick mumbles hastily, walking so fast now, he’s almost running.

I try to catch up, “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I might,” he mumbles, “first we gotta find Roland. I think this was the room.” He stops abruptly in front of one of the rooms, studying it before knocking. When no one opens, he turns the knob and to my surprise, it’s not locked. We step in slowly, the stench of alcohol directly invading my nostrils. I flinch at the sight of the dirty covers on the bed and the brownish stains on the floor.

“Damn it,” Nick curses, “he must have left already.”

Discouraged, he lets himself fall down on the filthy bed and I twist my face in disgust. Scanning the room, I notice an abandoned chair that’s decorated with rope and a few needles that look awfully equal to the ones I found at Nick’s room. But my heart really nearly stops when I take in the several dirty clothes that seem scattered all around the room. They look an awful lot like…

“Those! Those are Brian’s clothes!” I yell suddenly, grabbing Nick at his collar. “Why are his clothes here?”

Of all the times I’ve imagined hearing about, or finding Brian lying dead in a hotel room somewhere, I’d never thought I’d find his clothes first. Maybe I knew all along that Nick’s disappearance must have been tied into Brian’s, but I’d never thought it would play out like this.

“He…- we’re… ” Nick stammers, nervously watching my hand clutching his shirt.

“Where is he?” I demand. I can’t believe Nick would hide something like this from me, from all of us.

“I don’t know,” Nick breathes, “I really don’t know, and that’s the truth, Kev,” he squeaks desperately. The sudden tears in his voice and in his eyes have me taken aback, and I instantly let go of him, “I don’t know what to do anymore! Everything’s so messed up, Kevin!”

Taking a few steps back, I watch him suddenly break down.

Helplessly, I stand by as he collapses against the sheets, grabbing one of Brian’s abandoned clothes with a peculiar stain on it and clutching it tight. “He’s in trouble, Kev! He’s in trouble, and I don’t think I can help him!” He exclaims, the sobs taking most of his voice right now, “I think I’m only making it worse!”

I carefully approach his shaking form, awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder, “Nick? Did you… did you talk to him?” I ask softly.

“N-not really,” he chokes out and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I will ever get to talk to him again,” he admits, looking at me with helpless eyes, desperate for an uplifting answer. I have none to supply him with though, because the same thought he has just spoken out loud has crossed my mind as well, several times, in fact. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to talk to my cousin again, if I even got to see him ever again, and that scares me to no end.

Instead, I bite back the tears that threaten to overtake me as well, setting my jaw in determination, “It’s going to be okay,” I say, ignoring the tremor in my voice, “We’ll think of something.”

18.

When I come back, I see the two men sitting on the bed, their backs facing me. They look like they’re having a serious, exclusive discussion, their heads mere inches apart and the hushed tone of their words make it hard for outsiders to understand what they’re talking about.

I stand frozen to my spot as I watch Nick’s shoulders shake violently every now and then, a clear indication that he’s definitely not holding it together. A rush of anger suddenly flows through me when I instantly recognize the man sitting next to him.

Clearing my throat roughly, I cause the two men on the creaking bed to jump in shock. They immediately turn around with wide eyes. I clench my jaw, glaring at Nick and completely ignoring Kevin. The blond’s jaw almost drops to the floor when he takes in my appearance. He quickly shakes his head to clear his mind, searching for words, but not coming much further than, “Wh-what?…”

I narrow my eyes, frowning deeply as I quickly glance at Kevin, then back at Nick, still not saying a word. Kevin looks completely lost, not knowing what to make out of Nick’s reaction to my presence and unsure of what else to do, he awkwardly looks around him, looking like a young kid who just got caught doing something he’s not supposed to.

Nick swallows, trying one more time to find his voice, “Wh-wher’ve you been?” He drawls nervously, squirming under my hard stare.

“I could ask you the same,” I finally rasp and Nick flinches at the anger in my scratchy voice.

“I-I…” he stammers, helplessly looking at Kevin, who suddenly seems particularly interested in a dirty stain that decorates one of the t-shirts on the floor.

“Y-you,” I mock, flaming in anger now. It’s one thing to stick a needle in my neck and run off with a potential maniac, but what really gets to me now is that Nick has seemingly found it necessary to bring Kevin into the mix.

“You should have listened to me!” I yell suddenly, feeling the last bit control slipping away fast. “When are you ever going to start to listen to people?”

Nick’s gaze immediately drops to the floor and his shoulders slump, looking just as much like the young kid that got busted as Kevin did just minutes before, “I was just…”

“Now we have to start all over again! You should have trusted me!” I spit, outraged.

Nick’s head shoots up quickly and I take a tentative step back as I see the anger in his face matching mine now, “Trust you?” he questions, incredulously, “Trust you?” he screams now and Kevin, who probably has no idea what we are talking about, looks at him in bewilderment, “Are you kidding me? I didn’t even know who you were! I still don’t! You think you can just show up one day, grab me and drag me everywhere you want? That’s not trust, Roland! That’s kidnap!” he spits, breathing hard.

I sigh, knowing he’s partially right. It’s not really all that much of a wonder that he trusted someone who he supposed he’s known for over twenty years more than he trusted me. In fact, if roles were reversed, I’m not sure if I would have trusted me either. Maybe if I would have explained things more, maybe if I had let him know just how big of a part he is to play in all of this, he would have believed me when I told him his friend was not really his friend. The only problem is, I can’t. The timeline, always the timeline. I have direct orders not to do anything that could jeopardize the line of time, to do only the absolute necessities in order to complete the assignment. I wasn’t even supposed to talk to Nick about anything, to even get him involved.

And now he’s brought Kevin too.

“Where have you been?” I ask calmly, despite my shaking voice, “And where’s Thom?”

Nick takes a few seconds before he replies, watching Kevin uncertainly, which makes me guess that he hasn’t told Kevin about Thom Burker yet.

Thank God.

“I... We were… he… we went to another motel,” he finally answers.

“Yes…?” I urge questioningly.

“I told him I’d call the others, that I would tell them I’d found him. He must have taken that in offense,” Nick adds, muttering.

I nod stiffly, scoffing when I imagine Thom freaking out at the prospect of having all four bandmembers involved. I can instantly fill in the remaining details of the story, “Let me guess, he did the same thing to you, as you did to me?”

Nick nods, looking down again, “I just- I don’t understand. He knew stuff… stuff only you know who, could know…” he speaks quietly, his eyes momentarily flashing to Kevin.

I take a deep breath, knowing exactly what he’s talking about, but not seeing how I could explain the fine mechanisms of time travel and forced capture to him. Not in this time anyway.

“It’s hard to explain,” I tell him instead before straightening my back and towering above the two sitting figures on the bed, “Just clarify one thing for me here, Nick,” I say pointing defiantly at Kevin, “What in God’s name is he doing here.”

This seems to spark Kevin’s courage to speak up, as he scowls at me in offense, “He would like to know by now what the hell is going on here!” he squeals, his voice rising in pitch with every word he speaks. Nick and I both completely ignore his demand though and I continue to stare at the younger blond until he gives in.

“He… I called him. He came searching for me and found me. End of story,” Nick says, deliberately avoiding my gaze, which tells me that it’s definitely not the end of the story.

“What does he know, Nick?” I hiss, grabbing his arm to force him to look at me. Kevin shoots up in anger, shoving me back roughly.

“Don’t touch him!” he snarls, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. I smile, faintly remembering Kevin’s protective nature over his brothers from long ago.

Whenever he got the illusion that they couldn’t stand up for themselves, he would be there to get them out of trouble, whether they wanted it or not. I knew Kevin has never been one you could make fun of. He was mister Serious, mister I Will Find Out What You Did No Matter What It Takes. Mister No Nonsense. He could get that look in his eyes that clearly told you not to mess with him. It looked a great deal like the one he wore now.

It’s exactly the reason why I can’t tell him what’s going on exactly. He’d be serious. He’d be rational. He’d make sure to lock us both up in a nuthouse and throw away the key. He wouldn’t be open to the concepts of time travel. I can’t blame him, cause I know I wasn’t either when I was his age. It’s probably the reason I chose Nick in the first place. He’s got that trusting, naïve, almost dreamy flair about him that you don’t see much in anyone besides children. I knew he’d believe me, simply because he used to spend so much time convincing everyone else time travel was a true thing, even if he wasn’t sure it was. The only thing I basically did, was confirm a long lost belief.

With Kevin… not so much.

I smile politely at the dark haired man, whose greying hairs shamelessly begin to shine through on his temples.

Taking a step back, I decide I don’t really need to know how much Nick has told his bandmate, cause as long Kevin hasn’t declared us both mentally unstable, he knows just about enough.

“What has Nick told you exactly about everything?” I question nonetheless, addressing him directly now.

The fiery gaze wavers as he quickly looks from me to Nick, back to me again, “I know it has something to do with my cousin,” he puts forward.

“Has he left the part out where he was supposed to tell you I could save your cousin?” I snarl, “or the part where he betrayed me and practically ruined everything?”

Kevin frowns, looking at Nick now, who looks about ready to disappear through the floor.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know who to trust. I know now.”

“That’s not really going to help much, now we’ve lost him,” I growl. “He’s got your car, I presume?” My suspicions get affirmed when Nick nods slowly. “He could be halfway ‘round the country then by now.”

Nick’s smirk comes as a surprise and Kevin and I both watch him unsurely.

“What?” I ask after a few seconds.

“It’s a good thing my car has a GPS tracker then,” Nick boasts, smiling broadly.

My eyes meet Kevin’s, and for a second, I’m almost sure he recognizes me from something, as he gets this weird, faraway look. The moments over in an instant though and as we both look back at Nick, we begin to smile as well.

“Why didn’t you say so in the beginning?”

Damn it, Thomas Harold Burker, you’re better than this! I keep thinking to myself as I hurriedly drive through this Godforsaken town. I actually said it out loud a few times, “You’re better than this, Thom!”

But then again, am I? I guess panic is the big word I’m seeking here. Panic destroys everything. Keeps you from thinking rational thoughts in the heat of the moment. You will not believe the absolute horrors I had to face during the forced capture thing. Time travel has never been an awfully pleasant concept, but to have every fibre, every single lone cell in your body ripped and torn and burnt and then finally having to wake up in this middle-aged body… well, let’s just say it was not on my list on fun.

And it’s not like I had a choice now, did I? It’s all because of them! They were hunting me! What else was I supposed to do? And now their brave little soldier Roland shows up and I have no fucking idea where he came from.

From what I’ve heard, Roland just appeared out of nowhere into the station one day, no one knowing a freaking thing about him, and they still permitted him a spot on the team! Ha! Not much left of the team now, is there, Roland?

I don’t remember much from the previous months, partly because I’ve been on a bender the entire time, and partly because Brian is trying to mess with my mind. I know the entire Forced Capture must have been as much of a hell for him as it was for me. Maybe even more for him, cause he didn’t know what was happening at the time. I didn’t know he’d be rebelling this much though. I can’t figure out how he’s doing it either. Forced Capture is a precarious thing and there are only two known successful cases in history. Including this one. No one knows exactly why some are able to succeed, and why others aren’t. It’s kinda like a tight fusion of genetic material. Like DNA is ripped apart and then smashed together again, but mostly, it’s half-assed. Like the DNA is not complete anymore.

Like I’m only partly here, and partly… well… there.
And there is not a very good place to be.

Brian’s resistance is crumbling finally, though. It’s like he’s fading, sinking. I’m not very sure what they’re doing to him, there, but if they still think he’s me, it can’t be very pretty. I’ll make it up to him once. I’ll tell him that all this that’s been happening, it’s for the greater good. It’s what my Dad used to say, well, my foster Dad, but hey. Don’t think about what people will think, Thomas, think beyond that, think about the greater good.

Right now the greater good is getting my ass as far away from Chicago as possible. Carter’s car is awfully old and doesn’t go much harder then 180. It’s frustrating, having to drive for hours on end without getting even halfway through the country. Nothing like that in ’37. I’d be halfway around the world right now.

I didn’t know an awful lot about the dynamics between Carter and Littrell. Basically because Brian’s been trying to keep as many memories hidden from me as possible. We had quite a fight over Nick’s question about the plane. I won, obviously. I’m sure he’s going to behave himself for a while now. He better.


Suddenly, the engine coughs miserably and the car gives a final jerk forward before shutting down. I frown in confusion, sitting back slowly. Studying the dashboard with narrowed eyes, I completely ignore the impatient beeping of a car-horn behind me.

“Hey, asshole! Get off of the road!” An angry voice yells.

I roll my eyes, finally turning around in the convertible to see who has the nerve to heighten my blood pressure even more on this already stressful day.

“Do we have a problem?” I rasp in a scratchy voice.

The man gets out of his car slowly, walking up to me. I swallow, watching him approaching, my mind going a mile a minute. His uniform doesn’t leave any room for suggestion.

Great.

Just when I thought I had more than enough 2014 police on my ass, this yahoo gets thrown in to the mix. I fling open the car door, trying to plan a good escape.

Yes sir, I’m very sorry. I know I drove a hundred miles over the speed limit. Yes sir, I know I have 26 unpaid tickets already. Am I going to lose my license now?

It wasn’t like it was my license anyway.

I stand next to the car, a confident smirk on my face. What is the worst that could happen? The cop comes to stand in front of me and I immediately notice he’s about seven inches taller than me. If I could have, I would have chosen a taller, bigger, more intimidating body than this one. I didn’t have much to choose though.

“That your car?” the cop questions in a sneer, pointing the pen he just pulled out of his pocket towards the broken down convertible I’m leaning against.

I do my best not to roll my eyes at the obvious question, “Yes sir,” I answer instead through clenched teeth.

“Cause this car was reported stolen a few hours ago,” he continues, looking sternly into my eyes.

I avert my gaze carefully, thinking for a second. Of course Nick would be reporting his car as stolen sooner or later, but even if they were excessively looking for it, there could be no way of knowing where it was this soon.

Unless…

“Ah!” I manage to choke out, deciding there’s no time to think about the matter further, “yeah, that! I’m sorry about that, it was all a big misunderstanding really! False alarm, ha ha!” I give a nervous laugh.

“So this is your car,” the officer prods, pointing his pen again.

“N-no, it’s Nick’s,” I tell him, sighing exasperated, “I borrowed it, I’m Brian, we’re friends.”

Unfortunately, the cop does not seem to know about me and Nick and eyes me sceptically for a few seconds, indecisive.

“You can call him, he’ll tell you!” I encourage, pulling Brian’s phone out of my pocket, showing the man before me Nick’s number in triumph, “Look, why else would I have his number?”

This surely is one of the most suspicious cops I’ve ever met, I think as I watch him actually reach for the phone and studying Nick’s picture for a couple of seconds.

Almost when I think he’s going to give it back and let me go, he presses the dial button and I feel my knees weakening in defeat.

“Yes?” I hear Nick’s voice, even though the phone’s not on speaker.

“Mister Carter?” the cop questions.

“Yes,” Nick repeats, his voice annoyed.

“Yes, this is deputy Miller speaking, I’m standing here with one mister Brian…” he raises his eyebrows, looking at me questioningly.

“Littrell,” I provide in a rushed tone.

“…Littrell,” he repeats, “he claims he borrowed the car that you reported stolen earlier this day, is that correct?”

The silence lingers for seconds in which I breathlessly wait for Nick to give an answer. The air seems to be getting thinner and thinner as the silence continues.

“No,” Nick says, his voice cold, emotionless, “I don’t know no Brian.”

“I thought so,” deputy Miller replies, an arrogant smirk on his face as he turns to look at me, “Thank you for your time, mister Carter, we’ll call you once we’ve reached the station.”

Miller steps closer, after he’s broken off the phone call, reaches behind his back and I immediately know what’s going to happen.

“Mister Littrell, you are under arrest at the charges of car theft and attempt at manipulating an officer, you have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be held against you,” he sneers as he snaps the handcuffs around my wrists.

I clench my jaw, slowly walking with him towards his car and try to ignore Brian, who can’t seem to stop laughing.

19.

The rain is coming down like it’s the end of the world.

Driving like the elderly citizen he is, Kevin leans across the steering wheel, squinting his eyes to make out the road before him. Every now and then, he gives a big sigh of frustration, throwing his hands up in defeat as he curses the storm around us.

I dare a quick glance at Roland in the backseat. He’s been quiet for a while, ever since I asked him where he’s been.

It’s pretty obvious he wasn’t at the motel when we got there. He makes it seem as though we’re completely wrong about that, however. I just shrugged, deciding that there were more important, more urgent things to take care of at the moment. I’d wonder about Roland’s whereabouts later.

Miller’s phone call didn’t really come as a surprise. My car had a pretty clear GPS and by using a tracker, there wasn’t really much doubt about where it was at any given point in time. I’d called the police in Oklahoma beforehand, claiming my stolen car was heading their way.

It had raised some suspicions on how I was able to track a GPS like that, but I wasn’t fazed, telling them someone had to do, if they wouldn’t. I can’t say that had gone down all that well, but oh well. Authority and I had never been on a friendly basis.

Thom’s claim to be Brian hurt like a bitch, but not as much as it hurt to be forced to assert I didn’t know any Brian. I could feel Kevin’s accusing glare boring a way through the back of my head as I had purposely turned my back towards him as I spoke. It resulted in Kevin not saying a word either, apart from cursing the horrendous weather.

It was going to be a long drive.

------------------------------------------------

The weather has cleared for the most part as I pull up at the police station in Hobart, Oklahoma. The shining sun does not reflect the stormy mood I see when I look into the gaze of the man in the passenger side. Of course I’d be pissed as well when someone stole my car after drugging me in a forsaken motel. But there’s something else in Nick’s eyes too, something that scares the hell out of me.

I suppose it has something to do with the shady guy in the backseat. Every fibre in my body is screaming at me to get the hell away, take Nick with me and go back to normal life. Or to what extend that has been normal the last two months. My strange curiosity somehow wins over my rational sense and I cannot help but feel intrigued by this Roland figure.

Kevin Richardson, responsible, rational and careful father, husband and singer, embarking on a journey of drugs, missing persons, stolen cars and shady looking bearded guys. It gets funnier every time I think about it.

Is this what midlife crisis feels like?

Roland and Nick both haven’t made an attempt to get out of the car. Their expressions are pretty much unreadable but I can tell by the way Nick’s hands have turned into fists; he’s only barely containing his anger.

“Well, this has been lovely,” I mutter jokingly, as I open the car door slowly, “What do you say we get this thing done, boys?”

Roland is the first to come into action. He quickly opens the door and slams it shut, not giving Nick and I another glance as he heads towards the station.

Well, don’t wait for us.

“Nick?” I question, looking at the figure still in the passenger seat. He seems zoned out, almost like he’s in a trance or something. It’s not that big of a deal, cause he does that a lot of times, but it’s the shaking fists and the icy look I’m worried about. After a few seconds, he shakes his head, getting rid of the daze and nods surly.

“Let’s go.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“If you’ll follow me, gentlemen.” At the mention of a fairly high bail sum, Deputy Miller became all but extremely polite. Walking ahead, he leads us through a maze of hallways. For the quiet, sleeping town in Oklahoma, Hobart has quite the police station. I notice Kevin lurking behind, his frown growing deeper and deeper.

I make sure to keep my gaze on the ground, wondering how my band mate is going to react when he sees the prisoner.

“I wish you good luck with this one, fellas, he’s a real nut case. I’d say he’s a definite schizo, but that’s not really my department,” Miller rambles on and I notice Roland’s head shooting up at his words.

“How you reckon’ that?” He questions in concern.

“Well, judge for yourselves,” the Deputy replies as he finally swings open a door. We’re suddenly standing in a classic prison décor. Like we actually stepped into an old west movie and I instantly wonder whether all cells in the station look like this. Not much to my surprise, or to Roland’s, for that matter, there’s only one person inhabiting this room at the moment. Brian, no not Brian, stares defiantly at us, giving me the clear impression he’s intend in ripping our skins off when he can finally reach us. I bet he’d growl like an animal if that was appropriate. His hands are shaking in anger as they tightly clutch the cell’s bars, the handcuffs around his wrists rattling. I slowly shake my head and wish I could say I’d never thought I’d find myself in this position.

Shaking the close resemblance Brian, no not Brian, is making to my little brother out of my head, I defiantly stare back at this, this intruder. I open my mouth to say something, but Roland is faster.

“So, Kevin here bailed you out, you should thank him,” he sneers and only then it occurs to me to look and see how Kev is doing.

If I’d say Kevin is frozen to his spot, I’d make a great understatement. His face is completely white, but all the while expressionless and I actually think for a second his heart’s stopped. I’d expect him to yell, scream, shake, maybe even cry, but he just stands there, doing absolutely nothing. I don’t even suspect he’s actually really thinking something at the moment. Deciding it’s better to let Kevin sort things out for himself at the moment, I turn towards the prisoner again, who’s obviously ignoring Roland and his sneers.

Roland, nevertheless, rattles on and on and all the while, Thom’s gaze stays fixated on me. He’s challenging me to say something, to disclose everything and make a mistake so he can run again. The small smile on his lips makes me want to kick his ass into the next life, but something, the most peculiar detail stops me from doing it.

He’s still wearing Brian.

“What kind of sickening joke is this supposed to be?” Kevin’s small comment instantly shuts Roland up and we both whirl around to look at him.

“Kev, look I’ll explain everything once we’re out of here, it’s just…” I start, but Kevin stops me, holding up a warning hand.

“You! Him! What is this supposed to mean? Did you two find this funny? I was worried out of my skull about you two!” he yells, his volume rising with every word he speaks, “And who is he supposed to be then?” he spits as he points a shaking finger at Roland.

“It’s… it’s not what it looks like...” I try, already knowing I’m failing my defence horribly.

“No? Then what does it look like?” Kevin demands with a face contorted in anger and betrayal now. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thom’s smile grow wider and it does nothing to calm my nerves. To be honest, I hadn’t really calculated Kevin’s reaction into the mix.

“Can… can’t we do this outside?” I squeal, looking nervously at Deputy Miller, whose watching the scene with a confused, but interested expression. I turn my helpless face towards Kevin again, hoping he’ll take my bait, but he seems on a roll now.

“Do the others know about this too? Have you told them you’ve found him?” Kevin questions furiously, his eyes boring into mine.

“N-no… no they don’t, please, just let’s go outside,” I reply, looking at him in despair.

“Excellent idea,” Roland chimes in, finally grabbing Thom by his jacket and dragging him across the room, “We need to have a nice long talk, young man.” He stops briefly, nodding at Miller, giving him a we-are-going-to-tear-him-a-new-one-for-causing-trouble assuring look. Thom doesn’t fight him, his smile growing even wider.

It’s giving me the creeps.

------------------------------------------------

Once outside, Roland shoves Thom onto a very abandoned parking lot outside town. The younger man stumbles, but stays on his feet. He looks up, his smile turning into a full, shark toothed, grin.

“You’re angry, Roland!” he exclaims, laughing maniacally at him. “So many frustrations, and you decide to take it out on a teenager?”

Roland ignores him and grabs Kevin, shoving him towards the captive. Kevin shoots me a confused look and I shrug, not knowing what to make of it.

“Kevin Richardson,” Roland begins, his voice clear and loud, echoing over the parking lot, “Meet Thomas Harold Burker, no not Brian Littrell, before you ask. They do share quite a resemblance, I’ll give you that.”

Thom is still smiling, not in the least intimidated, “What are you gonna do, Ro?” he questions, “Tell me, what are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done a really long time ago,” Roland growls and my heart skips a few beats as I hear the unmistakable click of a gun.

“No!” Kevin and I both yell at the same time.

The grin on Thom’s face wavers, but it doesn’t disappear, “You can’t shoot me, soldier,” he grumbles, “Shoot me, you’ll shoot this fine package.”

“Oh I don’t want to shoot you,” Roland assures, “But like I said before, I need you to confess.”

“Never,” Thom hisses.

The blast is loud and echoes for minutes, it seems. With wide-open mouth, I stare at Roland, and then back at Thom, whose eyes are just as big as mine now. The taunting smirk has completely left his face and panting, he stares back at Roland. I vaguely notice Kevin throwing me the Nick-we-should-run look, but I’m nailed to the ground, shaking as I watch the end of Roland’s gun still smoking. The bullet flew far across the parking lot and has probably hit a tree at the end, but excuse me, I’ve never seen a real gunshot before, and I’m allowed to be a little upset right now.

“I said I didn’t want to shoot you,” Roland sighs in regret, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Thom clenches his jaw, staring hard at his capturer.

“Now… confess.”

21.

It’s my turn to smile. God knows how long I’ve waited for this moment. The little brat! In all my years, I’d never seen so much arrogance and self-loathing at the same time.

And I had seen lots of arrogance and self-loathing. It made for quite a show. Thomas looks terrified. He actually thinks I’m capable of killing him here on the spot.

Good. Let him think that.

It’s the one advantage I have over him; he doesn’t know who I am. Nobody really does. All hell would break loose, that’s for sure, if only they knew. I think Kevin has sensed it, and Nick definitely has a few theories, but the truth, oh the truth. It’s a lot harder to explain.

So complicated…

“Let us start with the formalities,” I begin, ignoring Thom’s vicious eye-roll and carrying on, “Your name is Thomas Harold Burker, correct?”

It takes a few seconds, but he finally nods and mutters, “Correct.”

Behind me, Nick snorts angrily at the small confession. I frown. If this upsets him, wait until he hears the rest.

“You were born on March 22nd 2016, correct?” I keep carrying on, waiting only for Thomas to nod before asking another question.

“But that’s not all, is it?” I growl, tightening my grip on the gun, steadying it once more, “tell me, have you ever wondered about the consequences of forced capture? Were you aware of the danger?”

I can feel the two Backstreet Boys are aching to interfere, to do something about the freak show they are currently witnessing. But considering I still have the gun, and therefore, I call the shots, they are behaving remarkably calm.

“Why should I tell you anything, you already know everything,” Thom spits angrily.

“Innocent lives, Thomas!” I burst, hearing my voice cracking as it rises a few notches, “This isn’t just a game! You’re playing with a man’s life!”

“He’s hardly innocent,” the younger man mumbles and I frown.

“Ah, so that’s what this is really about,” I nod slowly, watching his gaze fall to the ground, “You weren’t just looking for escapes, a free pass, were you?”

Thom’s silence is the only confirmation I need and I slowly lower the gun, suddenly feeling a pang of sympathy. He seems so lost, innocent almost. And maybe, in a way, he still is.

“Mr Carter,” I address and Nick looks up, quite stunned, although it only adds to the overall confused expression on his features, “You see, mister Thomas Harold Burker here was not born under the same name,” I speak slowly, making sure Nick and Kevin hear every word I’m about to say. Looking at him, I can tell Kevin is still trying to decide whether he should scream, or run, or both, but there’s a hint of curiosity that makes him do neither.

“That makes two of you,” Nick mutters under his breath, but still audible.

“He was actually named after his father, Brian Thomas Littrell, and I must say, Thom, you have quite a contorted idea about father and son meetings,” I smirk at the younger one. He stares back at me with a vacant expression. I can instantly tell he’s not going to try and make a run for it. It almost looks like he’s waiting for instructions.

The sign of the defeated.

But it won’t be that easy, oh no, if only. After a few moments, I watch Thom’s face scrunch up in anger and tears as he throws up his arms. “What was I supposed to do?! My whole life! He ruined it! It was his fault!” he screams, out of control now. “So what the hell are you waiting for? Shoot us! Kill us both, it’s the only way to stop it, you know that!”

----------------------------------------------

The agony surges through my mind everytime Brian tries to take over. I can feel his despair, his anger as he pushes and shoves and claws his way through the solid barrier separating us two. It won’t matter though, I’m used to pain.

But is this worth it?

I’ve asked myself that a lot. I stare back at Roland’s shocked face as he tries to comprehend the words I just spat. He doesn’t think I meant them, but what does he know? He doesn’t have to wake up in pain everyday because someone screwed up his life before he was even able to walk. And all because of him! Of you! I scream, finally shoving Brian back. Although I can’t actually see him, or even really hear him for that matter, I sense he’s still there. I don’t know to what extend our connection proceeds, but if I find a way to shut him up once and for all, so God help me, I will.

“You know there’s another way,” Roland speaks, and he’s probably been doing so for a while, but I only hear half of what he says, “we can just forget about all this, it’s not too late yet.”

I give an incredulous laugh, shaking my head. My mind suddenly goes back to the medical plastic bag Nick and Roland brought with them. I’ve heard stories about forced recapture, but I know it’s just a theory, and Roland knows it just as well. At least I hope it’s just a theory…



---------------------------------------------


Old fashioned revenge, that’s all that everything really comes down to in the end. I curse every second that passes by in which Thom desperately tries to get a hold of himself. It doesn’t help that there’s almost no scientific information about Forced Capture. Before Thomas, I too believed it was just a myth, a scary story people told each other to warn about the dangers of time travel. It is said Forced Capture is only possible when it concerns two close relatives.

Thom got that part right.

The basics of Forced Capture are pretty simple. From what I’ve studied prior to my assignment, it’s basically just a body swap, done in different timelines and it’s very illegal. While it’s an extremely painful shift for both ‘participants’, only one of them has control over the situation. Thomas is calling the shots, and Brian will be stuck in 2037 until the 21 year old decides enough is enough. And judging from the look on Thom’s face now, that moment is far from happening.

That’s the theory, at least. It looks like Thomas hasn’t gotten it all the way right though. Like he isn’t entirely in control. That is of course possible, considering they’re still holding Brian pretty much vegetative in 2037, so he hasn’t got much else to do than to interfere with Thom’s mind.

With only one other successful Forced Capture case in history, there’s not much to go on. It was quite similar to this one, I read. It’s quite interesting and would make for one hell of a scientific experiment, if it wasn’t so darn dangerous. The first time it happened, people didn’t really know what was going on. With a time difference of only five years, it’s barely comparable with this case, but it’s the only thing to go on. A desperate 27 year old brother trying to save his sister from killing herself five years earlier. It makes for quite the Hollywood drama-story, if it wasn’t for the fact that the Forced Recapture process killed them both in the end.

Consumed in my thoughts, I almost don’t notice Nick creeping closer and closer towards Thomas. I’m not entirely sure what he’s trying to do, but the last thing we need right now, is unexpected interference.

“Step back Carter,” I command sternly, remembering the weapon in my right hand, “Or so God help me, I will shoot you.”

Nick hesitates, his gaze in full anger-mode, but eventually complies, stepping back slowly. I sigh, realizing that Nick was not entirely wrong when he referred to this being kidnap. One more thing to add to the list of felonies on the path of this hellish assignment.

“Give it up, Roland,” Thom’s voice drawls over the parking lot, cracking at the end like I remember mine doing from so long ago. “You know I’m not going to cooperate, you might as well just shoot me.”

“I’m not a killer, Thom, you of all people should know that,” I say softly.

“Yeah, you were always keen on letting other people do the dirty work,” Thom sneers in contempt, “Tell me, how many of your team ended up insane from the things you’ve done?”

His taunt hurts, but I can’t let it get me right now. I was taught better than to listen to things like this. My eyes still trained on Thom’s, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans, flinging the needle in a coordinated throw in Kevin’s direction. If Thomas has noticed anything, he doesn’t act on it.

God bless sedatives. Always getting you out of nasty situations without having to shoot anyone. I hear Kevin shuffling around in an attempt to make up his mind what to do with the thing. All the while, I try to keep Thomas’ attention focused on me.

“Thom, it’s okay. I know you’re mad. I know you’ve been mad all your life, but this isn’t the way to make things right. The fire was terrible and you were only one year old. It’s not fair, it’s not fair in so many ways, and I wish things would have gone different. But no matter what you do, no matter what we do, we will always end up right there in the flames.”

“You’re a freaking liar! Why would you say you can’t change things and then go back in time? That doesn’t make sense, Roland!”

I swallow, knowing he’s right. I also know he’s blaming the wrong person for the fire.

“Alright, this… this is insane…” Kevin suddenly found a voice, although it being a bit shaky, “If y’all don’t mind, I’mma leave, okay?”

I frown, almost turning around in anger at his statement when I suddenly realize what he’s doing. He takes a few tentative steps towards me. He questioningly stares at me for a few seconds. I nod slightly as if giving him permission to proceed. He turns towards Thomas with an I-have-no-idea-what-to-make-of-all-this-nonsense expression on his face and steadily makes his way over to the troubled man in front of him.

“I wish you the very best,” he tells an utterly confused Thom before stepping around him and walking away. After a few moments, Thom turns his attention towards me again.

Out of the right corner of my eyes, I see Nick’s mouth hanging wide-open in amazement. A few seconds of complete silence follow, no one daring to speak, trying to process what just happened. Or pretending to, for that matter.

Finally, Nick throws up his arms in frustration, gesturing wildly at Kevin’s leaving form. “How come he gets to leave?” he exclaims.

I shrug, “He’s free to do whatever he wants. I’m not your prison guard.”

“A moment ago you were about to shoot me, because I moved,” Nick counters, very angry now.

“Shut up Carter.”

“But… I…” he suddenly falls silent when a tanned arm wraps around Thomas’ neck. Thom instantly struggles to get loose, but it is to no avail as another hand firmly pushes the injection into his bloodstream. Thom slowly sinks to the ground, revealing the very pissed off face of Kevin Richardson.

“And now would be a great time to explain all this shit,” he orders.