Part I - March 8, 2005

This couldn't really be happening, he decided. He was on medication, after all. In reality he was home, in bed, sprawled on his $2,000 sheets…

Nick Carter sat awkwardly on a bench, his hands in his lap. Every now and then, a grandmother finishing volunteer work for the evening would pass by and smile at the sweet young man with disheveled blonde locks and bright blue eyes. Nothing new there, he'd been worshipped before he was a teenager.

But then, inevitably, she'd notice the ink stains and the handcuffs. And for all those looks of suddenly uninterested revulsion, he'd rather pose naked buffing Tinkerbell's nails with his tongue. Hell, he'd rather pose naked with AJ 'plugging his holes' using microphones, like he'd once threatened to do when Nick blew out the power on their entire hotel floor while he'd been recording in his room. Only Brian had saved him.

That had been an accident. Just like this was. But somehow, that had been funnier.

He sniffled a little bit, starting to scowl. He'd learned all kinds of new things tonight, starting with how unpleasant it was to have a stuffy nose while handcuffed and unable to wipe it away.

"Okay, kid."

Nick blinked, trying to focus, missing yet another glare of disapproval when his vision swam and he nearly pitched over. Apparently his doctor was a Timberlake fan wanting to remove the competition. Howie had referred him, after all. He was tight with the enemy.

"Carter! The hell is wrong with you?"

Funny. The cop sounded almost like Kevin.

Kevin!

Nick groaned. On second thought, he adored the bench.

"Whoever that is," Leighanne Littrell announced, smoke steaming from her ears, "I'm going to kill him!"

Brian vaulted off the bed, somehow reaching his phone before she did by sheer force of will. "Honey, go check on Baylee," he soothed. His son's crying in the room next to theirs echoed through the New York hotel suite.

"I just did," she glared. "He just fell back asleep! And then - " She lunged abruptly. Brian pulled away with practiced ease, holding the still-ringing phone out of reach.

"Leigh, baby?" he prompted.

Grumbling, she disappeared. Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair and squinting at the nearby alarm clock. Was he really in bed before midnight? Glamorous rock star, indeed.

"Hello?"

"Nick?" Brian wondered, surprised. "What are you…? Wait no - slow down. Nick!"

But Nick continued talking, the words somewhat slurred and fast. Brian sank down on the bed, struggling to keep up. Was he drunk?

"Brian?" The incessant babbling finally stopped. "Are you there?"

"Yeah. What's going on?"

From the phone came the undeniable sound of gulping. With his free hand, Brian rubbed his temples. He had a headache coming, and his name was Nick Carter.

"I need you," Nick said, audibly stumbling over his words, "to come get me. Okay? I'm in Huntington Beach."

"Nick, hang on a second - "

"Hurry, Brian. Please. I think they're gonna - "

"NICK!" Brian thundered. In the distance, Baylee wailed in response. He didn't yell very often, but he figured practice was a good idea. His mother had once warned him how fast teenage years happened and if his child was anything like himself, he'd be lucky to have a voice at all when Baylee finished puberty.

Silence on the other end.

"Nick, I'm in New York. Remember? Larry King is in a few days…" Brian sighed.

Nick could outcry Baylee.

"What am I going to do?" Nick stammered after a moment, sounding for all the world like a lost little boy. He sniffled again and swore to himself.

Brian glanced up as Leighanne entered. She took one look at the distress in his face and crossed the room in two strides, lightly crawling up behind him on the bed and rubbing his shoulders.

"Nick, whatever it is, everything will be fine. Kevin's in LA, right? Call him."

Another pause. Then,

"I only get one phone call."

Brian rose from the bed, gently shrugging Leighanne away in the process, and banged his head against the wall. Hard.

Twice.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

"What do you think?" she whispered into his ear, kissing him before withdrawing. She relaxed easily against him as they relaxed on their couch.

Unable to contain himself, a laughing Kevin Richardson sprang upright, pulling her up and twirling her around. She matched his movements with grace, grinning at the look on his face.

"So as soon as whatever this reunion is settles down a little bit, we'll really start trying to - " he drawled, trying to regain control of himself by clarifying and failing miserably.

Kristin patted her stomach meaningfully. "You're gonna be such a good daddy," she told him proudly.

The phone cut off his reply. Still glowing, Kevin leaned down and kissed through her shirt. Soon… "Hold that thought," he murmured, snatching up the extension. The faster he answered, the faster he could end the intrusive call.

"Hello?"

"Nick, let me talk to him first," Brian warned.

"But - " Nick objected. In the background, an annoyed guard gestured at him. "Brian, they're telling me to hurry up. What if he doesn't - "

"He will," Brian assured him. "I'll be right back."

"Brian!" Kevin exclaimed happily. "I was gonna call you, cuz. Listen, you know how Kristin promised babysitting when you're in town? Well - "

"Kevin," Brian gently interposed, "can we talk about this later? There's something you need to know about. About Nick."

Kristin frowned as Kevin utterly deflated, sinking down on the couch. "What about Nick?" he asked, voice carefully neutral, having learned throughout the past few years just how low his little brother could fall. He'd thought Nick was bouncing back, but something in Brian's voice…

He didn't even look up when Kristin silently mouthed the name in understanding and moved to sit beside him, offering silent support.

"He - Nick, he - well - "

"I'm waiting, Brian."

Father and married man he was, but Brian still flinched at the warning in Kevin's voice. Years earlier, that same voice had tormented him mercilessly with Harold for its accomplice. And more recently, that voice had sent A.J. reeling into rehab.

Brian took a deep breath, forcing himself to sit back down on the bed. Why was he taking this for Nick, anyway? Ultimately, Nick needed to face this for himself - especially if his suspicions were correct and his younger friend was heading down the path so horribly traveled by AJ.

But AJ, for all his faults, had never been arrested.

"Hang on a second," he muttered, falling onto his back. The anticipation robbed him of his strength. "I'll put Nick on." To be continued…

Part II

"Okay, Nick," Brian said simply, no emotion in his voice.

The youngest Backstreet Boy forced himself to stand tall. The cousins couldn't see him, of course, but in his mind Nick was still demonstrating he had, indeed, listened to them in the past. "Nick! Stop slouching!"

That had to count for something.

"Kev - " he cleared his throat, fighting the sudden urge to sneeze. "Kevin? Listen - "

"Why hello, Nickolas. How are you this fine evening?"

Nick winced. Anger, frustration, worry, resignation and disappointment were clearly audible in Kevin's deep voice… all far more painful than the handcuffs which had chafed his wrists. And he had yet to fully tell Kevin - or Brian - what happened! That meant they'd had to guess, which meant they'd thought the worst of him… which meant they still didn't trust him. Lou's old publicity team had been right, way back when, dating had ruined him.

That is, if what he and Paris had done could be considering dating.

Nick! Focus!

"Kevin, I swear this isn't what it sounds like!"

Silence. Oh, good job, genius, Nick congratulated himself sarcastically. That would help them relax, no doubt.

"Nick," Brian cut in, knowing Kevin was trying to collect himself before speaking. "Why don't you tell us what this sounds like?"

The guard pointed at the clock locked behind a grate.

"Nothing! It sounds like nothing because I didn't do anything!" Nick stammered. "Brian, the guard…"

"What are the charges?" Kevin cut in, voice strangled from the effort of not losing control.

Nick glared at the phone. "Why does it automatically have be like that?" he asked, probably louder than he should have.

"Nick." He could hear Kevin's teeth grinding together. "What. Are. The. Charges?"

"Nick, this isn't helping," Brian, ever the peacemaker - unless he was the one causing trouble, in which case Howie earned his keep - tried to grab control of the rapidly spiraling conversation. "We can't help you unless you tell - "

"Investigationofdrivingundertheinfluence. BUT I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

Leighanne had tried everything. Singing. Rocking. Midnight snack. Playing. But Baylee just wouldn't have it.

She sighed, cradling his tiny form against her chest. "Daddy!" the little boy protested. Bright blue eyes pleaded with her. Their son could sense Brian's distress, she had no doubt. Unable and unwilling to watch as her husband was pulled into yet another crisis, she'd eventually returned to her baby's side.

"You can see Daddy tomorrow," she assured him, trying once again to lay Baylee down.

"NO!" he yelled, wriggling out of her grip. She barely managed to catch him before he would have plunged down onto the pad in the crib. "DADDY!"

A hand suddenly patted her little boy's golden curls and she looked up to see Brian, still on the cell phone, making faces at his son. He used his free hand like a pillow, putting his head on top and pretending to snore. Baylee calmed instantly, giggling in delight.

In spite of everything, she couldn't help but smile.

Kristin watched her husband warily. The separation had done all the Boys good. Selfish as it sounded, she'd been almost disappointed when the reunion had happened. She loved her extended family, always, but she'd had Kevin to herself for so long, it was going to be hard to share him with the world again.

But at the minute, it was just like old times. The vein in his neck throbbed, and every muscle was painfully tense.

But suddenly, he leapt off the couch as if his back was burning. And, she noticed with a pang, using much more energy than his display just minutes earlier.

"WHAT?" he roared into the phone. The elegant paintings hanging behind them shuddered. Clearly unable to stand still, he jerked into movement.

Some people paced. But when Kevin Richardson was too angry to stand still, he jogged. No wonder his body remained in stunning shape, mid-thirties and all.

"Nick, you little shit!" Kevin raged, loud enough for Leighanne to hear every word clearly. "You… you… what the fuck were you thinking? Goddammit!"

Brian leaned over Baylee, eyes wide. He'd fallen asleep on his side, and the father hurried to place his free hand over Baylee's exposed ear.

"But that's just it! You weren't thinking! NICK! This could ruin us, do you understand that? Did you learn nothing from AJ?"

Impatient, the guard rose from the other room and headed his way.

"Kevin - " Nick pleaded, terrified and not ashamed of admitting it to himself. The cops had all had a good laugh at putting the 'pretty teen idol' behind bars. Nick didn't even want to imagine what could happen to him in a jail cell.

"We're getting ready to come out and you go and pull this bullshit!"

"Kevin - "

"Come on, Kev," Brian finally intervened. "Can't you do this after you pull him out?"

Silence again. Horror shot through Nick as realization finally dawned.

"You're - you're not gonna - "

"I just wish," was Kevin's blunt response, "that you'd used your brain like this before you got behind the wheel."

Nick couldn't speak. He'd had no doubt he could count on his Backstreet brothers, and instead, they were abandoning him.

Well, not 'they'. Memories flashed. AJ, behind the door of his destroyed Boston suite, lambasting Kevin viciously only to praise him publicly a few months later. This couldn't be another 'for your own good' moments Kevin sometimes did, could it? AJ hadn't been in any risk of being attacked in jail because of his hair color. I'm not even a real blonde anymore! Nick thought wildly.

"Brian?" he whimpered, unable to fight a sneeze any longer.

But it wasn't Brian who answered.

"He's in New York," Kevin snapped. "And I'm… busy. If I have a chance, I'll come out in a couple of days. Take this time to remember how to think, Nickolas. You could use that. And while you're at it, come up with a statement to save all of our careers."

"Brian!" Nick repeated, desperate.

"Nick, I have Larry King," his supposed best friend answered at last. "My appearance means people will know about the Club and donate. That might save lives one day… I can't just leave. Kevin will be there for you in two days. You'll be fine."

Only then could Nick hear disappointment in Brian's voice, too. Somehow, that hurt more than Kevin's earlier insults. He hung his head, blinking away sudden tears.

"Let's go, Carter. They want you to sign a few papers - just think of them as autographs - and then I'll show you to your suite."

Kevin was the first to hang up.

To be continued...

Part III

Kevin didn't even look at Kristin, sitting shocked beside him. It would slow him down. Brian was in New York and Howie was off playing Trump Jr, but there was another Boy in LA.

In the time it took for Brian to privately look into flight options - just in case - Kevin punched in a number and inbetween prayers that his idea would work, stared at a nearby framed photo of the five of them grinning like the fools they'd been. They'd been young, ridiculously poor in comparison to now, and nobodies in the industry. Yet somehow, they'd been happier.

If it killed him, he was going to bring back that joyful delight they'd all felt then. And if he had to scare the living daylights out of all four to do it, so be it.

Because that's what big brothers did.

Some people stalled to get attention. Others, to be annoying. But for Nick, stalling was an art form.

Contrary to tonight's display, he usually wasn't an idiot. He knew that part of his success lay in his good fortune to have golden blonde locks and eyes the color of the ocean. Most men would sound quite gay describing themselves that way, but then, most men weren't Nick, who'd had women composing symphonies, among other literary works, with titles honoring his attributes since he'd been 13.

Thankfully, the gruff male officer eventually disappeared, and he'd found himself in the custody of a slightly older woman. And so, he'd used every hair on his head, and every twinkle of his eyes, to stall. Currently he was hunkered down in the station's bathroom, handcuff free, taking as long as he could while she waited outside, charmed by the little boy she knew beyond a doubt was innocent.

Child's play.

"Okay," he said after a pause, "I'm here now."

"Then you know what - "

"Kevin," he drawled out, "like you said, this is my territory. Your 'little shit' and I need to have a discussion. Whoever survives will give you a call."

Pointedly hanging up the phone, he swaggered up the steps and managed not to shudder as he did so. It had only been by the grace of God that this hadn't been him a few years back.

He hid his anxiety and his anger behind a mask of indifference and opened the door. Previously, of course, that had been part of his problem - losing himself in the stage persona, using a mask so often to hide himself that his ability to react disappeared into the bottle.

A.J. took a deep breath. He'd meant what he said in all those interviews. If sharing his story helped just one person…

But he never thought that 'one person' would be Nick.

Dammit.

He entered slowly, feeling the astonished stares. It was a little late in the day, but the place was still bustling. No, it's not me in trouble, he randomly thought to his sudden audience. It's the Cute One. And yes, it's really fucking weird to me too, so if you don't mind…

"Hi," he said to the receptionist, managing a smile and pulling out his ID. "Alexander McLean for Nickolas Carter."

"Okay, Carter. Enough stalling."

Nick flinched, drying his hands. So much for that. Squaring his shoulders, he headed out.

And took an involuntary step back when she abruptly pushed herself against him, forcing him back into the men's bathroom and closing the door behind them.

"Um," he asked her, confused. "What's going on?"

"You think you're so smart," she sighed. "Listen, kid, I have a daughter. So does Lt. Dave Bunetta - the guy who arrested you. They both worship you, just like you thought I did. It's been a slow night, so we thought we'd try to save our kids' hearts from breaking. Because you're on that track, kid, you just haven't figured it out yet."

She seized him by the collar of his t-shirt and threw him back against a nearby urinal, glaring with sudden menace. He landed hard, still-adled mind slow to respond.

But he wasn't too far gone to note her glare of death rivaled Kevin's.

She reached over, yanking him back up and shoving him in front of her. Her breath was hot on his face as she leaned in over his shoulder, nodding toward the door.

"Don't screw this up, Carter."

A.J. rose as a more-than-a-little confused Nick entered, holding a plastic bag with his wallet and keys.

"Sign here," the perky receptionist told him. "Oh, and here."

He tore his eyes off Nick long enough to do so. One was official city paper. The other had a pink sticky note attached with a specific spelling of "Deniece". Amused in spite of himself, A.J. obliged both.

"A.J.!" Nick exclaimed, finally processing his presence. His voice echoed through the police station. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up dinner," he muttered meaningfully. But he forced another grin for the lady in front of him. "Need anything else?"

She shook her head, handing him a white enveloped closed with Huntington Beach's seal. "Just give that to Mr. Carter. He - or his attorney - needs to report here in 45 days."

The guard walked Nick to him. Taking the envelope in one hand and Nick's right arm in the other, he nodded to the room and headed for the doors, pulling Nick with him.

"This is Howie."

"Hey, 'D."

Surprised, Howie blinked himself awake. Rising, he quietly left the room before he woke his brother, sleeping in the bed next to his.

"Brian? Is everything all right?"

Brian ran his hand through his hair. Sleep was lost to him now, he could only hope that he'd be able to catch some before the interview. Leigh and Baylee were still out, of course, but he'd sat himself down in the living room of the suite. Hopefully, he wouldn't disturb them.

"It's Nick," he began.

Howie's reply was succinct. They'd had this conversation before. "What's he done now?"

The sun had been setting when Nick had been pulled in. Now it was gone. He threw his head back, enjoying the gentle night breeze, the smell of the ocean…

And through it all, A.J. noted wryly, he had yet to stop talking.

"… man, I can't thank you enough," Nick was rambling, several times faster than normal. "I don't know what's wrong with Kevin and Brian. They just left me, some friends they are. I love you, man. I thought I was gonna die in there! She almost killed me in the bathroom! I should sue! It's dark outside. When did that happen? What time is it? Why are we spinning? New dance step? Dude, those are so gay. Hey, I think she messed up my shirt! I spent $40 on it! Where's your car? I think Kevin hates me. I wonder if the cops' daughters are cute. I'm kinda hungry. I haven't sneezed in a while, maybe jail cures that? I think I need to take another pill. But it's in my car, guess I'm fucked. Hey, can we call Aaron? Bastards wouldn't let me get my cell out of the car. Dude, Tommy Lee will think this is awesome. Is that bad?"

He sneezed, managing to catch it with the envelope A.J. had eventually handed him. Even that was newly appreciated. No more handcuffs and makeshift kleenex! He opened his mouth, intending to share his joy -

- but A.J.'s fist interrupted him.

A.J. watched with mild interest as Nick suddenly, finally stopped talking and collapsed like a puppet with cut strings to slam down on the stairs. He had planned to hit him ever since a frantic and guilty Kevin called, but not that hard. Apparently he was a bit angry.

"Fuck!" Nick swore, astonished. "Fuck, A.J.! What the fuck was that for?"

He shrugged, reaching out a hand to help him up. But Nick pulled away. Puzzled, A.J. looked down. His hand was still in a fist. Oops.

"I'm fucking twice as big as you!" Nick announced, stunned. "Shit!"

A.J. rolled his eyes. "Not where it counts, Carter." He knew that for certain, too. But some things were better left private.

Since Nick didn't seem inclined to get up, they remained there for several minutes - A.J. with his hands on his hips, towering over Nick and enjoying the rare feeling, while Nick still sprawled on the steps of the police station.

"You wanna do this here?" he inquired, tone bored. "You know, they could probably arrest us for loitering."

Somehow, miraculously, Nick found the strength to rise on his own. His jawline was still red, but A.J. didn't think he'd hit him hard enough to bruise.

"This way," the older Boy told him, guiding him toward the car. Exasperated, Nick, stumbled and followed him. Most people would probably hesitate to get into a car alone with a guy who'd just decked him, but in the end, both men knew how deeply they cared for each other.

And Nick would eventually allow himself to acknowledge Kevin and Brian had cared enough for him to teach him a lesson. A.J. had learned that. Now it was Nick’s turn. And hopefully, A.J. thought, he'll figure that out faster than me. Of course, he is Nick.

Neither were aware of another man standing quietly out of the way, hidden in the shadows. Kevin watched intently, even smiling when A.J. unceremoniously shoved Nick into the passenger seat despite his protests.

Relieved he'd made the right choice, the eldest Boy turned and headed home to his wife, just as, five months and six days later, Backstreet Boys' Never Gone headed home with millions of fans around the world.