The meeting had been going on for hours by the time Nick's belly began to growl loudly. It seemed like it'd been decades since he'd eaten breakfast, and he was sure his body had begun to enter starvation mode. Actually, it'd only been like three hours since they'd eaten a really large breakfast at iHop, ordering like almost everything on the menu basically, but he couldn't help it if he was a growing boy and had the appetite of a horse with worms on a breezy day, could he? He listened as his tummy rumbled it's complaints once again.

He sat in the fancy-shmancy lawyer-like office on the 21st floor of the BMG Corperation's building in New York City, listening to a grey suited man from Jive Records speaking numbers and figures about the Boys' latest album being released pretty soon. Projected numbers, Nick decided, were even more boring (and hunger provoking) than numbers that had already happened. Although, in all honesty, he wasn't sure which the man was talking about and when, because they were all just jumbled numbers to him. Who cared? Write it on paper in English in a big felt tipped red marker and he'd read it himself and maybe care then, but right at the moment all he wanted in life was something to stick in his mouth and chew. Glancing around the table, he noticed his bandmates were equally bored with the man's tirade. In fact, the only people seeming to be following a thing the guy said was Kevin (he always was a kiss-up) and Johnny (that was his job). Howie was doodling on the canary yellow legal pad that sat in front of him, pretending to take notes, but really just drawing little faces over all the numbers the man said. AJ seemed ready to begin drooling he was so bored, and Brian was studying the pattern on the wallpaper intently.

Nick sighed. The office was intense. The wallpaper was dark, dark, dark wine red, with even darker swirlies like some sort of weird gothic crest. It was the sort of paper that if you stared at it long enough it would begin to move about on the walls, crawling along, making you get all creeped out. The table was a way-too-shiny-to-be-naturally-that-way mahogany monstrosity that Nick could picture King Arthur having banquets at. The feet even curled into the shapes of lions heads at the bottom. The chairs matched, their cushions upholstered in the same print as the wallpaper.

Then Nick spotted it. In the center of the table was a bowl of plastic fruit. Anger rose in his gut. Plastic fruit?! PLASTIC FRUIT!?! Who on the earth wanted PLASTIC FRUIT to sit on their fancy-ass table? Certainly nobody of their right mights. Certainly this was a ploy - a plot - a plan to make him go absolutely insane (and to think he didn't have far to go!). Mr. Evil Jive Suit Man must've planned it like this. Surely the guy knew -- HAD to know -- that Nick was simply starving, and therefore would want food, and what better way to torture a boy than to display what LOOKS like food in the center of the table for him to stare at during the hours and hours that they spoke about numbers? Forget racks and chains, all they needed to torture him was a bowl of plastic fruit! Nick all but glared at Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan with hatred upon the revelation of the fruit. Damn the scheming bastard, Nick thought bitterly in his direction as his stomach growled again loudly.

A tap at his side refocused his attention. Nick turned to look at Brian on his left. Brian's lips were pursed up into the SHH face, and he gave a slight nod to signal Nick to look down. When Nick looked down, he thought he might crap with excitement. In Brian's hand was a caramel bulls eye. Nick grinned, vowing to thank Brian profusively after the meeting was over, and snatched the candy from Brian's palm. Brian turned back to studying the wallpaper.

Now came the tricky part.

Nick pinched the ends of the crinkly wrapper and pulled slowly outwards, the candy spinning and unraveling from it's packaging. It seemed unbelievably loud, and he stopped every time it made an especially loud popping sound to examine everyone's faces and make sure none of them had noticed the sound, but every time he did, even Brian seemed oblivious to it. It was tedious work, but finally he got the wrapper completely off the candy, and discreetly dropped it to the floor, holding only the caramel now. He kicked the wrapper under the table. Some unsuspecting maid would find it and wonder who was the inconsiderate asshole who threw it under there. He'd blame Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan, of course, he decided vengefully.

Slowly... carefully... Nick began to stretch his shoulders, the candy concealed in his palm. He rolled his arms out behind him, and stretched them out to their full length. Brian glanced at him, his hypnosis with the wall having been broken by nearly being smacked in the back of the head by Nick's hand as he stretched, and watched with a smirk on his face. AJ's attention diverted, too, and he raised an eyebrow. It was as though moving were a federal offense. Nick faked a yawn, opening his mouth wide, and curling his arm inward, covering his face, and depositing the caramel inside. Mission accomplished.

Brian bit his lips to keep from laughing and looked down at the table's edge, running his finger along the intricately carved woodwork. AJ leaned back and closed his eyes.

The caramel felt warm and heavy as it rested on Nick's tongue. He could taste it as the powdery center began to melt. Now, he wanted to chew it.

Stealing a stealth glance about the table to determine that Kevin, Johnny, and Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan weren't looking, he flexed his jaw. The caramel slid between his teeth, and he bit down, squishing it delectably. The flavor filled his mouth, and he was sure he was now in heaven. He began chewing more and more confidently as the Axis of Numbers continued to chatter away at the end of the table, unnoticing of Nick's chomping.

He'd just managed to get the caramel to that point of gooey tastiness, all stuck up in his teeth and impossible to spit out, when it happened. The Axis of Numbers turned to the other guys, their eyes focusing right on Nick, it seemed, and asked a question.

"What do ya'll think?" Kevin asked.

Brian blinked and looked up from the woodwork, a clueless, puzzled look on his face. Howie smiled stupidly at the end of the table, and AJ's eyes remained close. Nick felt sick, and tried to swallow as much of the caramel as he could as quickly as he could.

Kevin raised a wooly eyebrow. "Well? Nick?"

Nick glanced at Brian. Brian bit his lips. Nick took a deep breath, "I think --" caramel juice sprayed out of his mouth, and he swallowed saliva wrong, and choked. Hacking, he looked at Kevin, whose eyes were steely and squinty. Nick swallowed hard, then squeaked, "It's the shit."

Kevin groaned. "Excuse him," he told Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan, "He's acting immature." He said the words pointedly, and glared at Nick at the same time. Nick glanced down at his hands. Brian kicked him under the table. Kevin turned to his next victim. "Brian?"

"I think it's really interesting, and I trust you a hundred precent to handle all our accounts," Brian said robotically, obviously it was a statement he'd been practicing mentally all morning, and had spent some of the time staring at the wall orchrastrating it in his mind. He bared a shit-eating grin at Kevin, and then looked back at the grainwork on the table.

Kevin seemed satisfied, and moved on. "Howie?"

"Yes." Howie's voice was firm, decided, and eager. "I think yes."

"Yes?" Kevin looked confused, he paused, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean.

Howie smiled. "Yes." He looked back down at the legal pad and rested his pen down. "I definitely think yes."

Johnny and Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan both lookedas confused as Kevin did, but finally Kevin accepted that answer, even though he had no clue what it meant, and moved on. "AJ? .... AJ?" Kev poked AJ in the gut, and AJ sputtered.

"What? Huh?" AJ leaned forward, and rested his hands on the table, regaining sense of where he was, and spoke smoothly, "Yes?"

Kevin raised his bushy eyebrows at AJ. "What do you THINK, AJ?"

AJ smiled slowly, looking around the table for some clues of what to say. Finally, "I think there's some plus sides, and some negative ones. Over all, I must say I agree with everyone else's answers." Kevin sighed, and turned back to Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan. AJ looked at Nick, Brian and Howie with panic written on his face. Howie shrugged in response.

"Thank you for your time today, sir," Kevin said shaking Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan's hand, "We ALL appreciated your help." He glared at Nick and AJ meaningfully. AJ rolled his eyes in Nick's direction the moment Kevin's back was turned.

"It wasn't a problem," Mr. EvilJiveSuitMan replied, smiling. "I wish you all good luck, and hopefully the numbers will return the same as I'm saying." Lifting his suitcase, they all watched at he exited the room, leaving them alone.

The moment the door closed behind him, Kevin turned to look at the Boys sitting at the table. "I hope you two are happy with yourselves."

AJ shrugged, "I'm good."

Nick's jaw dropped, "Dude, you sooo cannot be singling us out on this. We were sooo not the only ones not paying attention. Mr. 'YES' down here, it wasn't even a yes or no question."

"And how do YOU know?" Howie snapped defensively, "It might've been. You weren't even paying attention to the question."

"What WAS the question then?" Nick retorted, sounding very black-diva-from-Queens with his emphasis. He even did the head bob.

Brian rolled his eyes, "Oh please. None of us except Kevin was paying attention. We NEVER pay attention, Kevin. We don't understand this crap like you do. You're the only one that gets it. So don't complain. At least someone in the band understand what's being said, and we all trust you, so it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? It's your WORK, you guys, your WORK," Kevin's voice was adament. "Maybe ya'll should start caring a little bit more about what was being said. It does effect you, your jobs, your futures, your paychecks ---"

Johnny held up his hand to stop Kevin midsentence. "Ok, ok. Relax there, Kev. The Boys here will make more of an effort next time to listen, but for now we'll let it go. We've got a photoshoot to get to, and the way Nick's stomach has been growling he's going to want to stop to eat first."

"You could HEAR that?" Nick asked, incredulous.

"Dude, CHINA could hear it!" AJ cried.

Johnny nodded. "Great theatrics with the candy, by the way. Next time make the yawn more realistic. Or rather, just know that nobody's going to saw your head off if you're caught eating a caramel during a business meeting."

Nick felt profusively stupid at this point.

"Ok, let's go," Johnny decided, "I'll meet ya'll at Central in an hour." After Johnny left, a momentary silence filled the room, during which all 5 of the Boy stared at each other uncertainly.

Kevin shrugged. "With only an hour to get it in, I'm thinking something quick."

"How about a slice?" Brian suggested, "Or we could grab a few pies and head to central with them, eat it on site..." he smirked, "Then we won't be late, like SOME of us were for this meeting..."

Howie's head snapped to attention, "Why are ya'll always pickin' on me for?" he whined, "I was only late because I couldn't hail a cab, OK?"

"It's OK, D," AJ injected, "It's not your fault you're so tiny they think you're an oversized pigeon..."

"Why I oughtta..." Howie stuck out his jaw to look tough and elevated his head. "I'll keel you." Nick laughed quietly.

Kevin held up his hand to stop the friendly bickering (and Nick's snickering), "C'mon you chuckleheads, knock it off. We've only got an hour - do you really want to spend it arguing about stupid shit?" The other guys shrugged in unison.

"Howie started it," Nick mumbled childishly.

"I did not!" Howie cried.

Kevin silenced them once again before they could get any further in the argument. The Evil Brow was beginning to rear it's ugly head. "Let's figure out who's getting the pies, an dthe rest of us will go to central." He paused. "Volunteers?"

Silence.

"OK then. Let's do this the adult way..." He took a deep breath. "Eenie - meenie, miney - mo..."

Brian was taking two steps to every one of Nick's long strides, giving him the appearance of a puppy frolicking after it's master. Nick huffed as he walked, feeling pissy, and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk, oblivious to the work out he was giving Brian. "Why does it always gotta be us?" he fumed, "Kev picks on us, I swear it."

"I guess," Brian panted.

Remaining oblivious, Nick continued his pace. "Everytime someone's got crapwork to do, he dumps it on US. I mean how many contest winners have we taken to dinner? I think we're the only ones that know the agony of a teeniebopper on a date. How many times are one of the two of us the first ones out of a venue that's surrounded by fans? We get mobbed and they get to walk out in our wake while everyone's distracted watching us play in the windows on the bus. And remind me, who was it again that tested those Millennium tour skateboards out first? I DO believe it was US who were the guinea pigs for that experiment..."

"Actually, you -uh- you whined to be first on those," Brian piped up, short of breath. "And you actually volunteered me, too, because you thought it'd be funnny."

Nick stopped to face Brian, who nearly ran into him from the sheer velocity of trying to keep up. "I wouldn't do that! And why the hell are you walking like a drugged penguin for?"

Brian sighed heavily. "I have NO idea."

Nick turned and started walking again, this time at a bit more normal of a gait so that Brian could keep up without further killing himself. "I just think it's stupid how we are always getting shit on all the time." Nick stopped again and looked at Brian seriously. Brian leaned against the lamppost they stood beside. "Kevin and the fellas NEVER give me much respect. I just feel sometimes like they keep us - especially ME - around just so they have someone to assign all the dirty work to. Like I'm nothing but a good laugh and a place to throw all their dump on."

Brian was just about to respond when suddenly something fell onto Nick's head, square in the center of his hair. He put his hand up on top of his head to feel it. It was warm and squishy. He looked up, removing his hand to look at it as Brian began to laugh. Nick's mind hadn't time to even register what he was seeing before the falling white blob landed square on his cheek, spattering across his face.

"UGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Nick yelled, scraping the bird poop off his face with his hand, "UGGGH!!!!!!!!"

Brian was now full-on laughing. "You sound like Charlie Brown when Lucy takes the football," he practically wheezed the words. Nick glared. "And- and - Oh God. You were JUST saying -- saying..." Brian officially was into the realm of hysterical laughter. "You were JUST saying how you're shit on..."

Nick looked at his turd-covered hand and reached over, rubbing his hand across Brian's face, leaving a white trail across his cheek. Brian's laughter stopped abruptly. "Serves ya right," Nick stated flatly.

"I soooo cannot believe you just did that," Brian replied, "May the bird of destiny crap on your head... uh - again."

Nick laughed at Brian's serious tone as he recited the mock-Chinese-proverb, amused. "Dude we are so pathetic."

"Hey! I'm not the one smearing poo on his best friend's face," Brian stated defensively. He sighed, rubbing the hem of his shirt across the tainted cheek. "Let's goo and just get the pies and do the shoot. I'm so frickin tired of this city and it's.. it's... it's PIGEONS already... They're soo dirty..and .. I need a shower now...."

"We've got a whole week here still, too," Nick replied, rolling his eyes.

Quickly the Boys hustled along the street, getting strange looks from passers-by for the bird shit all over them. Moving so fast, Brian now had to take four steps to every one of Nick's. He bobbled along, and was just beginning to wonder if it would've been quicker to walk to Italy to get the pies, when he saw the gates to Central Park looming up ahead. Suddenly Nick stopped short in his tracks. This time, Brian did slam into his back. "Ow!" Brian wailed as his nose crunched into Nick' spine bone.

"SHH," Nick hissed, and ducked behind a newsstand vendor's cart, peeking around it.

Brian looked around. "Nick, what are you--"

"SHUT UP," Nick snarled, "Is she still there?"

"Who?" Brian looked over the crowd, confused. "There's like a million people here that qualify as 'she'."

Nick's voice sounded urgent. "That chick -- whatsername -- the one I dated that time, with the laugh. The one that reminded you of Janis from Friends. She's over there, in front of the pizza place."

"Oh LORD --" Brian's emphasis revealed not only that he REMEMBERED the girl, but that he'd spotted the target in question.

Nick took a deep breath. "Brian. You gotta get the pizzas."

"What?" Brian's eyebrows shot up, "Why?"

Nick looked pleadingly at Brian. "Please, Bri. She's outside the place, I can't go over there. I can't see her. I don't want to. The laugh makes me want to shoot myself in the face. And.. besides, I can't see an ex with shit in my hair!"

Brian replied, "But it's on my FACE!"

"it's on MINE, too, but at least it just looks like you were painting."

"Only if paint comes out of a birds ass," Bri answered, "Which by the way the last time I checked it did not."

Nick resorted to last ditch efforts. "Pleeeeeeeeease Brian, pleaaaaaaaaase!" Brian sighed. "Pleeeeeeeeeease?!"

"OK. Fine. But you owe me. You owe me BIG," Brian relented. "BIG. I'm talking HUGE."

"Fine," Nick agreed, "I promise. I owe you huge."

"OK then. I'll be back," Brian said, and melted into the crowd, calling back, "STAY THERE."

Nick ducked beside the newsstand, trying to stay completely out of sight. He grabbed a magazine - the first one his hands landed on in the stand, and whipped it opened without looking at it. He focused over it, trying to make sur she wasn't coming over.

Then he became acutely aware of the shop owner's eyes on him. He looked down at the magazine -- FISHING WEEKLY -- and cringed at the unfortunate luck of having opened it to a centerfold article on gutting a Polish Salmon.

"You gonna buy that?" the guy asked gruffly. Nick shook his head and replaced the magazine on the rack. The man smiled. "Well, well. I've been waiting all day for you."

Nick blinked, wondering why this guy had been waiting all day for him. It wasn't like even he had known he would be at this newsstand right now. "You have?" he asked.

The man nodded. "Boss promised you'd swing by today," he answered.

"Your boss knew I was coming?" he asked.

The man nodded again, then tapped the side of his very large, bumpy nose with an index finger. "Boss knows everything."

Nick nodded slowly. "Is he psychic?"

The man guffawed loudly. "That's a good one." He wiped a tear from his eye after a long laugh, during which Nick stood uncomfortably, wondering which mental hospital was missing large hairy patient. He was a hard guy to misplace, though. "You should tell that one to Boss."

Nick nodded, "Yeah. Maybe I will sometime." Better to humor the guy. You never could tell with crazy people. It would suck to have him haul off and beat the crap out of Nick simply because he didn't agree. He mentally willed Brian to hurry up.

"Go to Central," the man said, leaning forward to walk to Nick quietly over the counter. "The Goose will come to you, and you can tell him that The Gopher ha flown the coop, but the Fox and the Hound are after them, so it won't be very long."

Nick blinked at the guy, confused by the animals and weirdness. "Right. OK." Nick nodded reluctantly.

The man nodded, then leaned back and turned away. Nick glanced toward the pizza place and decided it was safer to see his ex than it was to hang out with crazy people who talked in cryptic animal nursery rhymes. He quickly dashed across the street and into the pizza place. Scanning the room for Brian, he spotted him sitting on a bar stool by the registers and quickly went to sit with him.

"Bri-" Nick was about to tell him about the creepy vendor guy, but Brian's face told Nick to be silent.

"Isa is her name, Isa," Brian hissed, "And she's the--"

"HEY! Look what the cat dragged in!!!" The horse-laugh followed.

Nick froze. He turned slooooowly to look at her, after a wince at Brian, which she didn't seem to notice. "Hi... Isa..." Nick said slowly.

Isa beamed, her cheeks pinching into dimples. She WAS gorgeous, looking very much like Salma Hyeck, and Nick, under normal circumstances would've gone head over heels for her -- but that LAUGH.... Nick just couldn't take it. At least not without grinding his teeth. Actually his dentist HAD told him not to grind his teeth so in a way it was a medical reason that he couldn't be around her. She could surely appreciate that, right??? "You remember me!" she cooed, excitedly.

"SO well," Nick replied, wincing as she laughed in response to his not-meant-to-be-a-joke joke.

She turned to Brian, "And YOU... You said he was in Peru." She laughed," Silly boys." Then she gasped suddenly, making Brian almost spill the wine glass of ice water that sat before him. "Was this a surprise for me? Did you just SAY he was in Peru so that I'd be totally surprised when he did show up?" She reached across the bar and ruffled Brian's hair, laughing the entire time. Nick thought of cats screaming and fingernails on a chalkboard and discovered how peaceful those things were in comparison to her laughter.

"How'd you guess?" Brian asked, irritable, grudgingly fixing his hair.

Isa touched Nick's hand, ignoring the tone of Brian's voice. She spoke seriously. "I knew you would one day come back to me."

Nick nearly puked, "I just ... wanted pizza," he explained.

She smiled proudly, "And of ALL the pizza places in New York you chose mine! Just to see me?"

"Why would I do that?" Nick asked, not even kidding.

Isa laughed, "Always the kidder." She picked up a pad of papers from the counter. "I'll be right black, sweetheart." Isa started to leave, but then stopped and looked back. "I'm so happy that you've come back." She blew him a kiss, then ran off to go serve a table.

"Wow," Nick murmured. "That was worse than I remembered. Even worse than the psych ward escapee across the street. Maybe they were cell mates."

Brian turned to Nick. "Run. Run while you still can."

Nick laughed, "Would you seriously mind if I did?"

"Not at all," Brian answered, shaking his head, "I understand fully."

"THANK YOU," Nick said, genuinely happy.

As he leaped from the bar stool, Brian laughed, "Hey and just think... This is her while you have bird shit in your hair and on your face... Imagine if you'd been clean how she would've reacted?"

"I don't want to," Nick answered, "I'm gonna be washing for months and it was only an air-blown kiss."

Brian laughed, "Quick, go before she comes back."


Ten minutes later, Nick wandered down the path in Central Park, heading in the direction of the photo shoot. He was walking slowly, hoping Brian would catch up with him, but quickly enough that he wouldn't bother any of the people playing chess on the built-in marble chess tables that lined the walkway he was on. Pigeons toddled along the path, pecking at specks of food that kids had dropped on their way through to the zoo and playground areas. Nick kept looking down at his feet as he walked, not wanting to encounter any more weird New Yorkers like the vendor guy. That'd been enough to traumatize him for life, basically.

However, within a few moments, he felt someone fall into step beside him. He assumed it was Brian. "Hey B," he greeted him, turning to see his friend.... Except it wasn't Brian. His jaw dropped and he stared at the mystery guy beside him. This guy was short (even shorter than Brian, more like Howie's height), and hispanic (no, it wasn't really Howie -- he was MUCH scarier than Howie, even scarier than Howie on Howie's worst Bad Hair day, which is pretty scary). "Who --- who are you?" Nick asked, trying to puff up his chest to look and sound tough.

The man smiled, keeping up with Nick's stride easily, despite his height, unlike Brian's earlier display of prancing. Nick eyed the guy, studying his face.... You never could tell when you might have to pick someone out of a line up later on. "I'm The Goose. I hear you have information for me."

Nick blinked at the guy and stopped walking. "You're The Goose." He said, and though it came out as a statement it was really more of a question. He glanced over his shoulder at the gates to the park, toward the newsstand, wondering how that dude had seen which way he'd gone to send his friend after him. "Did that crazy guy at the vedor tell you to fuck with me, dude?"

The Goose stared at Nick solidly a moment. "Look kid, I get you're new to this, but I ain't got time to screw with you. What'd Fat Freddy tell ya to tell me, 'ey?"

Nick squinted up at the sky for a moment, trying to recall what the weird animal riddle had been. Finally, he slowly recited, "The Goose'll come to you.... The Gopher's flown the coop... but the Fox and the Hound are out... so it'll be taken care of."

The Goose nodded. "Good. Next time make it quicker." He paused and looked him over. "Tell Freddy next time you see him that the Gopher better be underground by Tuesday."

Nick nodded, "I - uh- wasn't planning to go to - uh - see Freddy again."

The Goose glared. "Oh you'll see Freddy again, you reluctant little putz."

Nick felt his anger flare. He was done playing games with these halfway house escapees. They could play with someone else - he was done. "Do you have ANY clue who I am?" he asked, playing the Backstreet Boy authority card on the greasy looking freak.

To Nick's surprise, though, the guy didn't react with awe, or even with a questioning stare. He simply answered, "Yes, I do. I know you. I know everything about you. Where you're staying, what town you're from, where yo momma and sisters live. I know 'bout your dog, and your lover. You sir, are clearly mistaken about who WE are, though. You are messing with YOUR LIFE here. CLEARLY you did not understand that during initiation. So let me knock this home for ya, Jack Taylor, even though we made it blatantly obvious during initiation down by the docks....If you mess with us, you swim with the fishes... if you know what I'm sayin'."

Nick blinked in response, his mind whizzing over the information. The intensely beady eyes of this scary little man glared at him, waiting a response. "Who's Jack Taylor?" Nick asked finally.

"Funny, kid, funny..." The Goose didn't laugh. He continued to glare.

"And why are you talking like you're the godfather or something?" Nick rushed on with his questions.

The Goose's eyes beaded up further than before, growing in intensity. He grabbed Nick's shirt, pulling Nick down to his height level. "You sayin' I'm being unfaithful to the Boss?"

Nicks eyes widened, the pieces beginning to fall into place a little bit. "No! Nonononono... No. No." He gasped loudly. "No, dude, no. I would never say anything - anything to piss of a guy of your muscular ability," he declared, sneaking a peep at the guy's biceps, which flexed ridiculously large. Even with his heaight (and assumed weight) advantage, Nick would never win one-on-one with this guy.

"Good." The Goose let go of Nick's shirt, and smoothed it down as gently as a man who just turned into Mr. Hyde possibly could. "No go get that message to Fat Freddy." He leaned toward Nick menecingly. "Pronto." With that, The Goose turned and began to walk away hurriedly. Nick stood glued to his spot on the grass with a look of dumbfoundedness pasted to his face. He looked up when The Goose shouted. "Hey! .....And get that bird shit out of your hair."

Nick couldn't believe what had just happened.

Brian came around the corner in the park carrying 5 large pizzas (balancing is more the word for what he was doing, actually) when he spotted Nick up ahead, just staring into the distance. He hustled up (as much as a lil guy like him can while carrying 5 large pizzas without dumping them all over the ground, that is, anyways). "Nick???" he called out when he got within ear shot. A bunch of the chess players looked up as Brian trotted by them. "NICK???"

Nick shook his head to clear the swirling mass of confusion that filled his head and dazedly looked at Brian. The first words Brian thought of were 'you look like you've just seen a ghost'. But something about Nick's face warned Brian not to fool around with him. "Are you OK?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Yeah," Nick nodded, his response a moment delayed like when news casters are interviewing people by satillite, which only heightened Brian's concern.

Brian slid the pizzas onto an empty chess table beside where Nick was standing. He looked at Nick carefully, studying his arms and clothes a little bit, noticed the front of Nick's shirt was kind of frumpled looking, and asked, "You didn't get mugged, did you?" Nick didn't respond. "Nick???"

He looked at Brian. "Huh?"

Brian nervously bit his lip. "Maybe we should get you to a doctor, you're acting kind of fishy..."

"FISHY???????" Nick cried, suddely animated, whipping his arms about, he yelled, "You'd be acting FISHY too if you were me! You'd be acting FISHY if you were gonna go SWIM WITH THE FISHES!"

Brian laughed in spite of himself. "What are you talking about, Mr. Soprano?" He half began to wonder what Nick's attacker had used to drug him with.

Nick grabbed Brian by the shoulders, shaking him gently. "I. Am. Not. Kidding." he said the words deliberately, his voice pinching like dolphin's screech.

Brian blinked up at Nick, and, assuming he was joking, laughed again. "Dude, you really need a tic-tac."

Nick let go of his friend and shook his head. "I'd think you'd be more upset hearing about my eminem death."

Brian tried hard not to crack up once again. Clearly, he told himself, something was upsetting Nick, no matter how irrational it was -- and even if he couldn't pronounce it right. "Why on earth do you think your death is EMINENT?" he asked, putting emphasis on the word he was correcting for Nick.

Nick's eyes were wide and panicy. "I don't remember the message The Goose said to tell Fat Freddy, and I'm basically gonna die when they find out I'm not Jack Taylor, 'cos they think I am, but I'm nt! They think --- and I wasn't there at the docks -- but I just ---"

Brian stared at his friend, entirely unable to respond. "Ooookay. Slow down, Carter. Too many TV dramas for you."

"Rok, I swear," Nick squealed, "Fat Freddy told me to tell The Goose that The Gopher flew the coop and that the Fox and the Hound was out and I told The Goose, and The Goose said to tell Fat Freddy something and I forgot it."

Brian patted Nick's shoulder. "Mmkay."

"Why don't you believe me?" Nick whined.

"Because," Brian told him, "You're talking about geese and gophers that fly and some guy named Freddy who's, I'm assuming, overweight."

"Actually he wasn't all that bad," Nick commented.

Brian nodded, "OK. Whatever. That makes it so the story's more realistic then." He smiled, "C'mon Nick, let's go to the shoot, and we'll eat the pizza and forget this craziness ever even happened, OK? We're already running late, Kevin's going to be pissed off as it is." He guided Nick towards the pizzas. "You're probably just delirious from lack of eating."

"Yeah. Maybe," Nick reluctantly agreed, lifting the pies. He followed Brian as he walked towards the site of the photo shoot. Nick dutifully followed Brian through the maze of paths, losing himself in thought as he racked his brain for the message that The Goose had given him for Fat Freddy, but his mind was blank.

When they reached the site finally, Kevin, AJ, Howie and Johnny all came over -- Howie and AJ fawning over the pizza, while Kevin and Johnny looked pissed off. "You're late," Kevin grunted, his arms folded over his chest, giving the Dirty Brow to them both.

"Sorry," Brian apologized as Nick walked by (followed by Howie and AJ) and put the pizza down on a table that was set up on the set. "Nick freaked out over -- well, nothing, I guess. And we ran into Isa ---"

"The hyena?" Kevin interrupted.

"Yeah," Brian answered with a nod, "She was the waitress at the pizza place."

Kevin shook his head, "I'm surprised Nick went in at all."

"Well he left as soon as he saw her, and said he'd meet me here. But - and this is the weird part - I found him just inside the park gate staring into space. When I asked him what was wrong, he started spouting off something about a Goose and fishes and the mob."

Kevin laughed, "Active imagination."

Johnny rolled his eyes, "Go eat. Both of you -- before those three eat it all, AND so we have time to actually have a photo shoot tonight."

That night, Nick sat on the sofa in his hotel room, watching TV. Well, he was at least sitting in front of the TV while it was on with his face aiming towards it, but he couldn't have told you what was on it (which would explain how it was playing a rerun of the Teletubbies... at least he has an excuse, unlike Howie who was in the next room over watching the same thing).

Brian had thought he was nuts, and that'd never happened before (at least not that Nick new about -- more often than not Brian thought he was nuts, he just kept his mouth shut about it to his face). Maybe it all HAD been just something he'd imagined -- like that time when he dreamed he hooked up with Princess Leia in Jabba the Hut's secret lair. It had seemed SO real at the time, that he'd actually believed it was true. At least until he remembered that the girl that played Princess Leia was like 60-something years old now and that there was no such thing as gigantic alien slugs sliming around LA -- only gigantic roaches, and even those weren't alien in nature... just gross. But this seemed all too real. Fat Freddy's breath even stunk in his memory, and the thought of The Goose's face still brought goosebumps up his arms.

He shifted restlessly, wondering who Jack Taylor was, and where he was, and how he had been mistaken for the guy. Did Jack Taylor look like him? And if he did, where was Jack now? Getting mobbed by BSB fans? Why didn't Jack show up at Fat Freddy's newsstand, as was obviously planned? What would happen if Jack did show up? What would Fat Freddy and The Goose and whoever else they were in with do to him (and Jack) if they found out he wasn't Jack Taylor? Would he swim with the fishes like The Goose had threatened? How the hell did a Gopher fly from a coop if they don't have wings? And why were all these mobster guys so excited about a Disney movie being released?

Nick thought of all the spy and mob movies he'd seen and wondered how he'd get out of the situation (if it wasn't imagined, of course) without the fella's help. All the good spies in the movies had a side kick. Clark Kent had Jimmy Olsen (and eventually joined that weird super hero league thing), Batman had Robin, Spiderman had M.J., hell - even Jason Bourne had that weird Maria chick on his side.

Nick shook his head. He was now comparing himself to a crappy Matt Damon movie. 'I must be crazy,' he decided, 'I didn't really talk to Fat Freddy OR The Goose. I'm hallucinating. All the bird shit fumes went straight to my head. Clearly, or else someone would believe me... at least just a little bit, wouldn't they?'

Suddenly there was a heavy knock on the door, which caused Nick to jump, and his state of thought shattered and his mind spiraled back down to earth. He became acutely aware of the Teletubbies on TV set whining about Tubbie Toast and quickly muted it. He stared at the door. Under the crack of the jam he could see the shadow of two feet. "Brian?" he called out cautiously in the general direction of the door. "Kev? Brian??" He got up slowly. "AJ, c'mon dude, it's late. Howie??" He inched towards the door, and was just about there when the shadow moved, and a perfectly square black envelope slid under the jam. The shadow disappeared. Nick stared at the envelope from a distance, half expecting it to promptly explode.

After a moment without an explosion, he carefully knelt down beside it, lowering his head to hear if it was ticking like a bomb. It wasn't. He tapped it to see if any weird powdery stuff was inside. It was flat, as though it were empty. Gently, he lifted it, then very cautiously opened it. Inside was a single sheet of perfectly square, cream colored paper. He pulled it out and looked at it.

Written with a calligraphy pen in fancy gothic-looking lettering was the following note:


"CHECKING INTO THE PLAZA HOTEL UNDER A
BACKSTREET BOY'S NAME. VERY CREATIVE, JACK.
THE BOSS CORDIALLY INVITES YOU TO THE DOCKS
TOMORROW NIGHT. THE GOPHER'S BEEN FOUND.
WE'LL HAVE A LITTLE FUN. --- THE GOOSE."


Nick's eyes buldged. He chucked the page across the room the way one might throw a venomous snake, and ran into the hallway. No one was out there. He paniced. Quickly, he rushed to Brian's door and banged noisily on it with both fists. "BRIAAAAAAAAN!" he cried, pounding, "BRIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAN!!!! OPEN UP!!!! Quick!!!!"

It took a few minutes of this, but finally the door opened and Leighanne stood there in a canary yellow bathrobe, clutching the chest closed, and stared at Nick. She had a Biore pore strip stuck to her nose, and a full set of curlers in her hair. "Nick," she sounded groggy, "What on earth is the matter?"

"Where's Brian???" Nick asked, breathless from all his yelling, "I need Brian."

Leighanne looked puzzled, "He's in bed, NIck, as should you be. It's like 3 AM. Go to bed, sweetie."

Nick looked at her pleadingly, "No please! I need to talk to 'Rok. Like right now." He was near hysterics, that was clear. "PLEASE."

"OK, OK," she relented, backing up into the room and lowering her voice, "But Baylee's asleep, and I don't want to wake him, so be quiet, and Bri'll be right out. Ya'll can take the conversation to your hotel room." She quietly closed the door as she disappeared into the room.

Nick paced in front of the door in the hallway, wringing his hands nervously. It seemed to take forever for Brian to come out, but really it was only a couple of minutes.

Brian's hair was disheveled when he emerged, his eyes squinty and filled with that weird sleepy dust. He had on a pair of blue plaid pajama pants, but that was it. "What?" his voice was low from sleep.

"Brian. They're gonna kill me," he gasped out.

Brian rolled his eyes, "Nick. Not this again." Turning back toward his hotel room door, he said, "Nick. GO. TO. BED."

"NO! Brian! C'mon! I'm telling the TRUTH. It's REAL. I know it is! I need you to be my side kick, like Jason Bourne!"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Then take his suggestion.... 'You look tired, you should get some sleep.'"

"Brian..."

"Nick, tomorrow you'll get up and realize how utterly ridiculous you're being right now."

"Brian, I am NOT being rdiculous, please!!! Just look what The Goose left me. They're gonna kill me, dude! They want me at the docks -- tomorrow night!!!"

"Nick --"

"No, Bri, please!"

With a sigh, Brian followed Nick into his hotel room. Nick snatched the note from the floor and handed it to Brian, who glanced it over, reading it. Nick hovered around his shoulders until he'd finished the note. He looked up at his friend. "Can I go to bed now?"

"What?" Nick took the note back and looked at it, "Don't you see what this MEANS, dude?"

Brian nodded, "It means AJ's fucking with your head."

Nick shook his head, "I didn't tell AJ."

"I told all three of them yesterday at the shoot. He's just trying to rile you up. Don't let him get to you. I'll talk to him tomorrow morning about antagonizing you before we got to the signing, OK? Now will you please go ot sleep? We've got a lot of autographs to sign tomorrow and those fans are expecting you to be at 100% and nothing less so you need to be awake."

Nick nodded slowly. "OK, ok. I guess you're right. Thanks."

"I'm always right," Brian answered. "Now goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bri."

Nick watched as Brian stepped into the hallway and closed the hotel room door behind him. He looked down at the note, trying to place what AJ's hand writing looked like and if this even remotely looked like it. He couldn't remember what his writing looked like, though, so eventually he gave up and dropped the note onto the night stand by the bed. Climbing into the bed, he glanced at the clock -- 3:18 AM. He only had about 5 hours of sleep coming. He cozied down between the sheets.

"I must be going nuts," he muttered, turning off the lamp and closing his eyes.
Suddenly the phone rang.

Nick sat bolt upright in bed, reached over and turned on the lamp before grabbing the phone off the cradle, assuming it'd be Brian. "Hello?"

"Listen kid, it's The Goose." Nick felt his skin go cold and palms get clammy and his heart begin to slam loudly in his chest. "Whatever your little sidekick might say --- This ain't no joke. Follow the directions on the back of my little invitation and be at the docks tomorrow at midnight or the boss'll be very, very, VERY remorseful."

The line went dead and Nick dropped the phone with a clatter.

"BRIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Kevin sat in the lobby of the hotel with a cream cheese danish and the New York Times. Beside him sat Kristin, reading a Nicholas Sparks book, and reaching over to pick at her husband's danish. It was 6AM, and the last thing on earth that Kevin expected to see was Nick toddling slowly down the stairs, hair every which way, wearing the same clothes he'd been in the night before, only with more wrinkles in them. As he sat down beside Kevin at the table the Richardson couple had commandeered, Kevin said, "What are you doing up this early? Did hell freeze over?" He peered around the edge of the paper, bending the page so he could see the front cover story. "One would imagine that the Devil donning skates would be Page 1 news, but I guess that Cats winning ANOTHER Tony would beat even that out, huh?"

Nick glared at Kevin. "Shut up. I spent all night awake, fearing for my life because your stupid cousin refused to listen to me."

"Brian?" Kevin asked, surprised that Brian wouldn't listen to Nick -- even if it was nonsense.

"No. Your other cousin that's staying with us," Nick snapped, rolling his eyes, "Of course Brian."

Kevin folded the paper, resigning to the notio nthat his time of peace and quiet was over now. He focused on Nick. "OK. What's gong on? Brian thinks you've lost your marbles, AJ wants to run intervention with you, and Howie wants us to do a drug test before things get out of hand like they did with AJ and the pink bunnies he thought were stalking him."

"This isn't like the bunnies, Kev," Nick whined, "The mobsters aren't doing the macarena in my living room at 3AM. They're just leaving me notes, asking me to be at the docks tomorrow night and calling to tell me Brian's wrong about something he said behind closed doors while we were alone."

Kristin looked up from The Notebook. "The mob?" she looked at Kevin. "Seriously?"

"No, Kris," Kevin answered, "Don't encourage him." Kristin turned back to her book and Kevin turned back to Nick, raising a wooly one at him. "Nick, I know you've got an active imagination, and that you like to tell stories --"

"NUH UH!" Nick interjected, "I do not tell a lot of stories."

Kevin choke-laughed. "Uh.. yeah. Do you remember Dr. Kimball? The psychiatrist you chased away by saying that you'd been abducted by aliens to perfom sexual favors for them on their home planet - which you escaped from, by the way, using a car that could fly, like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?"

"That was different," Nick reasoned, "I was TRYING to make her quit. How was I supposed to know that she'd think I really believed that shit? Besides, at least ya'll convinced her I wasn't crazy BEFORE she got me committed."

"How about the girlfriend you broke up with saying you had an allergic reaction to the SMELL of her BLOODTYPE?"

"And if you recall SHE said she was a med student, soon to be a doctor. If THAT was true she would've KNOWN I was full of crap when I told her that."

"And the time you told Johnny you couldn't go to an awards show because you'd been kidnapped by Gremlins...?"

"Chris counts as a Gremlin, dude."

"...or when you said Paris Hilton was sane..."

"I was stupid."

"You said it, not me. Or what about that thing you do when you snicker and hiss into the phone and say you're losing the call because you're going into a tunnel?"

Nick's eyes widened. "You can tell that ain't real???"

"Only when I call your LANDLINE and you do it." Kevin said pointedly.

Nick laughed, "Yeah I guess that'd give it away a lil."

Kevin shook his head. "My point is, Nick, that it's enough now. Just stop playing the game. There is no mob chasing after you, and deep down you know that."

"But Kev," Nick defended himself, "It's not like those things. I knew I was full of crap all those times - well, except for the Paris Hilton thing but I found out soon enough, and that doesn't count anyways. This time it ain't like that, this time it's true!"

"Well, maybe you've made it up so well that you just THINK it's true, Nick," Kevin suggested with a chuckle. "But it's NOT. There's NO evidence, Nick, and if you had the mob after you, there'd be evidence."

Nick reached into his pocket. "I have the note The Goose left me last night, though," he suggested, fishing it out and frantically thrusting it towards Kevin. "That's evidence, isn't it?"

Kevin took it and raised an eyebrow. "You're going to great lengths for this one, Carter."

"Great lengths? Kev, it's REAL."

"Yup," Kevin nodded back to Nick, "OK then."

Howie, AJ, and Brian wandered into the lobby as Nick moped and put away the note, folding it carefully, and slipping it back into the pocket he'd drawn it from. Kevin raised his paper as AJ and Howie sat down between Nick and Kristin, and Brian opted to toast a bagel before joining them. AJ elbowed Nick. "Hey Shithead. What the hell're you doin' up so early?"

"The mob is trying to kill him," Kevin said dryly from behind the Times.

AJ laughed. "Still? You'd think they'd be over it by now. What'd you do to piss'em off? Wait. Let me guess. He's a REALLY big fan of the Simple Life and just read some back issues of the Post?"

Kevin smiled. "Hey c'mon, go easy on him, he's very sensitive about it."

"Thank you, Kevin," Nick nodded appreciatively.

"It's not his fault he's lost his marbles."

Brian chuckled in spite of himself from the counter as he spread cream cheese on his bagel. "I'm sorry buddy, but the story IS a little out there."

"No, shut up," Nick snapped at Brian, "You'll see.. Ya'll will ALL see when I'm belly-up in the frickin' Hudson River tomorrow."

AJ snorted. "Belly-up in the Hudson?"

"He got an invitation to the docks last night," Brian confirmed with a slight smile.

"So don't go," AJ suggested with a bored shrug, "That's obvious."

"And piss'em off even more? Yeah, that's real smart," Nick argued.

Howie shrugged, "So why don't one of us go with him to the docks? Then we'll know for sure if he's telling the truth."

"Howie," Kevin glared at him, "Why must you encourage this nonsense behavior?"

"I think it's a good idea," Howie insisted, "It'll calm Nick down, and if there were any doubts about whether he was telling the truth in the first place then there won't be after that, AND - if in some weird alternate universe thing it's true, then at least Nick won't be alone."

Kevin reluctantly gave a relenting shrug. "Well, OK, I guess that makes sense. I'll go with him tonight to the docks then, that's settled... So now we've got to be at Virgin in a half an hour, and I see three Backstreet Boys who aren't dressed yet."

AJ looked down at his clothes, "If you're refering to me..."

"...Then you need to go change," Kevin smiled.

AJ grunted and stood up, and, followed by Howie and Brian (with his bagel and smear) headed back out of the lobby to the elevators.

Nick stared at Kevin a moment, "You sure it's a good idea you go with me?"

"As good as any we've suggested thus far," Kevin answered. "Besides, at least it'll get the stupid story out of your head."

"I just don't know if it's a good idea for ya'll to get involved."

Kevin shrugged. "I'm really not concerned about it."

He didn't understand why the fellas didn't trust him. Maybe he HAD told a lot of stories, like Kevin said, but that didn't make him the boy who cried wolf, did it? He'd never claimed to have the MOB after him, for God's sakes... this was serious business. Being mistaken for a mob member is a very, very big problem. Especialy when one isn't quite sure how it happened, or where the person he's being mistaken for is.

Nick sighed. Well, they'd see when he didn't come back from his trip to the docks...

When AJ, Howie and Brian finally reappeared, they all bid good-bye to Kristin and filed out the door of the hotel, chatting noisily about the fans. They were so involved in the conversation that even Nick didn't notice the shady looking guy in the courtyard, reading a book about scuba diving.



"Wow. A lot of people turned out." Howie mumbled as the Boys were led through the crowded Virgin Mega Records Store in Times Square to the long folding table where they would be conducting their autograph signing. The fans screamed wildly.

AJ nodded, "I'll say. Maybe we should -uh- rethink that pact we made with ourselves about signing all of them..."

Kevin smiled, speaking through his teeth so the fans couldnt read his lips. "I'd say so."

"Even Kevin's agreeing to cut fan time short?" Brian marvelled, "That's amazing. There really must be a lot of fans here..." He looked around, and realized that the lines went up the stairs as well as all around the store. He gulped. "Holy cow!!!!"

Nick's eyes roamed over the scene before him, and he was instantly transported into a dream he'd once had, just after the Backstreet Boys' first concert, over in Europe, at a packed stadium. He'd dreamt he was on an island in the center of a giant ocean, and all of the drops of water that comprised the sea were faces... faces that looked remarkably like those that he'd seen in the audience that night, and very similar to the ones he was looking at right then as well. It literally was a sea of faces looking back at him eagerly....

As they took their seats at the table and began signing autographs, Nick only got progressively more tired - his lack of sleep from the night before catching up to him rapidly. None of the other guys noticed, at least he hoped, as his head dipped and swayed as it (and his eyelids) got heavier and heavier. And in fact, nobody had noticed at all.... at least until a fan tapped AJ's arm. "Is Nick OK?" she asked.

AJ looked to his left and found his bandmate face-down on the girl's CD, his sharpee leaving a black stain on his cheek.



After the signing, the Boys loaded into the limo while the fans crowded around. Cameras flashed wildly, setting an almost eerie scene, like a thunderstorm. They huddled inside, protected by tinted windows, and waited while the car inched away from the store. "Last time you'll stay awake for an imaginary mob, huh Nick?" AJ chided his blonde bandmate with a devilish smirk. Nick glared through squinting eyes at AJ.

"I can't believe you fell asleep," Kevin answered AJ's comment before Nick had the chance to.

AJ snickered, "Just check the net in a half an hour and there'll be a ton of shots of him planting his nose on that chick's disc."

Nick and Kevin both glared at AJ.

"I'm so glad we're going to finally have this whole stupid mob thing resolved tonight," Brian injected.

Nick nervously wrung his hands. "About that..."

"What?" Kevin asked, exasperated. Brian and Howie raised their eyebrows.

"Did they threaten your little dog too, and then cackle?" AJ asked, imitating the laugh of the Wicked Witch of the West for sound effects, then he snickered. Kevin shot him The Look.

Nick ignored AJ and answered Kevin. "I realized... I think it'd be really, really risky for you to go with me tonight."

"Why?" Kevin asked.

"Because then you'd know how full of shit he is," AJ responded.

Kevin looked at AJ, throwing the Dirty Brow. "Shut the fuck up, will you PLEASE, AJ? You are NOT helpng." AJ feigned being hurt, but Kevin ignored the sad puppy face. "I'm serious, AJ. It's not helping." He turned back to Nick, "Now... WHY?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Because. Right now they think I'm this guy named Jack. If ya'll come they'll realize I'm not, and that they confused me with the actual guy that they think I am right now. So if they find out I'm like NOT him, that's like a security breach and they don't tolerate that shit. Plus it gets you involved too so it's not just ME caught up in this whole big ass mess, but all of ya'll also."

Kevin stared at Nick, rolled his eyes, and replied, "Right. So in other words you're full of crap."

"If that's what you wanna think," Nick shrugged, "But I'm just trying to protect you." He elevated his chin to look brave and lofty.

Kevin rolled his eyes a second time. "So you HAVE to go, unless one of us is going with you, in which case it's not important anymore."

"No. I have to go anyways," Nick explained, "It's just that I'm going alone."

Brian looked concerned now, he shot Kevin a look that asked plainly, 'now what?'

"Nick," Kevin spoke patiently, "Honestly, I don't believe you about this whole mob thing. You know that. But let's just suspend reality for a half a second and say that I do believe you, OK? Do you think I'm gong to let you go meet some mobsters alone? At midnight? At a dock in New York City? I'd have to be crazy. Do you think ANY of us would do that?" AJ raised his hand. "What?" Kevin asked him.

"I would," AJ said, smirking.

Kevin, once again, glared at AJ. "Enough."

"Kevin's right, Nick," Howie injected before Kevin had the chance to bitch-slap AJ. "You might be a pain in the ass, but we'd like to keep you around anyways. We aren't going to send you off to some dock alone in the middle of the night even without the damn mob part of your story. New York isn't any place to mess around like that. It's a dangerous city, and you're talking about a rough area."

Kevin nodded, "So it's final... I'll be going with you tonight, Nick, and by tomorrow the whole mob thing will be officially over and laid to rest."

"Either that or we will be..." Nick intoned dramatically.

"Nick, that's enough," Kevin said, ending the conversation, and turned to look out the tinted windows at the fans as they screamed and waved.

That night, Nick and Kevin left around ten thirty to get to the docks by twelve. Kevin made a point to remind Nick how pointless the entire trip was, and Nick reiterated repeatedly that he didn't think Kevin's presence was a good idea. But either way, pointlss or not, good idea or not, it was both Kevin and Nick who set out on the adventure.

Nick followed behind, carrying the note (and the directions that were penned onto the back of it), as Kevin led the way to the subway, walking briskly through the crowded city streets, and away from the relative safety of the hotel. Nick trotted along quietly, imagining various scenerios that could possibly come to pass within the next few hours. He looked nervously at the calligraphy on the note, wishing against all wishes that Kevin wasn't accompanying him. If he wasn't, Nick might possibly have been able to find a way out of the entire situation by just humoring them all until Friday when the Boys would be flying back out to LA. After that, he'd be Nick Carter, and have no connection to this Jack Taylor guy - whoever he might be - and therefore it'd no longer be HIS problem.

He wished more than anything he could've taken the easy way out, and reported the entire situation to the cops, but he knew more than well enough from all his movies that anyone that reported the mob to the police might as well sign his own death certificate. He sighed and stared at Kevin's back, the bane of his current existance.

Nick had tried to say good-bye to the guys but none of them had taken him very seriously, which had really bothered him. He'd been trying to tell them how much he cared about them and how they'd been the best friends a guy could ask for (well Brian had anyways), but they'd turned the entire thing into a joke and accused him of being dramatic, and told him they'd see him later when he and Kevin returned to the hotel. What they didn't understand was that he wouldn't be returning, and if Kevin followed through with going to the docks, then Kevin very well might not return either.

They'd see soon, he decided.

Kevin led the way down the subway's stairs and into the hollowed cement lobby way below the city. He rubbed his hands together to warm them from the chill that nipped the air down there, despite it being mid-June. "Which train are we taking?" Kevin questioned him as he looked around. Three different trains were boarding - the 14, the 6, and the 5.

Suddenly a plan began to form in Nick's mind.. and he felt his palms sweat with the mere idea of it. He looked at Kevin, and wondered if it could possibly work. Kevin, he had realized, didn't know the way. If Nick were to ditch Kevin it would take him a very long time to catch back up, assuming he could at all. But Nick wasn't sure about the idea. He didn't like the idea of tricking Kevin like that, and he didn't REALLY want to go alone to the docks. He didn't want to die alone. But he knew that was the safest option, for Kevin's sake (for ALL the Boys sakes, really). Nick looked at Kevin, weighing his fears against his love for his best friends... and the choice was made easily.

"We gotta take the 6 train," Nick told him.

Kevin nodded toward the train, a questioning look coming onto his face, "The 6???"

Nick nodded. "Yes. Just like JLo."

Kevin shrugged, "All righty then. You're the one with the map. I trust you." Nick felt a pit in his stomach churn a bit at Kevin's declaration of trust, but he knew that after they'd found him in the river Kevin would understand what this lie took a lot of courage to tell.

The two Boys got in the large line for the 6 train, while on the other side of the lobby the 14 train was loading as well. Nick knew his timing would have to be perfect. As the people filed onto the 6 and the 14, Nick followed Kevin closely, right up to the threshold of the 6 train before backing away. The person behind him stepped onto the train as Nick side-stepped away from the mouth of the door. He watched as Kevin sat, then realized Nick hadn't followed him, and turned to the window.

"Nick?" Kevin yelled through the window, "What happened? Did you mess up? Wait there, I'm coming out..."

"I'M SORRY KEVIN," Nick cried. He looked back at the 14. "BUT THIS ISN'T THE RIGHT TRAIN." With that, he turned and dashed toward the 14 as the final passangers were loading.

Kevin suddenly understood what was going on. "NICK!" he jumped up from the seat and began battling and struggling against the flow to get out of the train car. "NICK!!!"

"Enjoy the Bronx, Kevin," Nick whispered as he sat and looked out the 14's window, across the way, where Kevin was just shoving his way out of the 6's door. Kevin rushed across the platform to the side of the 14 just as it began to move. He banged the palm of his hand against the door, but the train was already in motion. He ran along side it, his eyes trained on Nick's eyes until the train reached the tunnel, and he couldn't follow it anymore. He watched it's tail lights long after it'd disappeared.

Kevin rushed to the ticketing booth. "Where is the 14 headed?" he asked.

The woman looked up. "Brooklyn. Makes a few stops in between, but ultimately it's goin' over there."

"Brooklyn." Kevin nodded, processing the information. "Any riverside stops on the way?"



It wasn't too long before the 14 pulled into the last stop before the Brooklyn Bridge, which was where the note's directions had instructed him to go. The problem was, Nick realized as he stepped off the train and onto the platform, that's as far as the directions went. He stood on the platform, looking around stupidly, waiting for something to happen.

The flourescent lights hummed overhead, but otherwise the station area was relatively quiet. He'd been one of the only ones to get off the train here, and the others had immediately rushed up the stairs and out from under the city. The only people left on the platform where a few homeless guys -- one was playing the guitar, and the other was reading a book on scuba diving. Nick sighed and waited.

It'd been about twenty minutes and Nick was looking at the schedule for the trains, resolving to get on the next one, no matter where it was going (he was trying to figure out where he'd end up actually) when The Goose suddenly appeared next to him. "Let's go," The Goose said smoothly. Nick obediantly dropped the schedule and followed as the little hispanic man led him through the station and up the stairs into the city streets.

Neither noticed when the homeless man reading the book got up and followed them. He was as silent as a cat in the night.



Nick came to the conclusion that he'd never have been able to remember the way they were going, even if it had really been him Thursday that'd come to the docks. The Goose led Nick down an array of side streets with walls coated with graffiti and through alley ways that made Nick shudder just to walk through. They crossed through the fish district, and Nick realized they were getting closer to the Hudson as the scent of fish and ocean wrenched his stomach into a knot.

He peered to either side as they stepped onto a long dock that stretched away into the river. To his left he could see the lights blinking on the Brooklyn Bridge and when he squinted away to his right he could see the tip of the Manhattan island, and away in the distance the faint glow of Liberty's crown in the darkness. Behind him loomed the Empire State Building.

The Goose nudged Nick in the back. "Move it. The Boss frowns upon tardiness."

Nick continued the long walk down the pier, the end looming closer and closer. The wide dock was littered with large wooden crates, a few old fishing boats were moored there, and it was one of those boats that The Goose finally motioned for Nick to board.

It was an old decrepit fisherman's boat, with a small outboard motor that was covered in barnacles and rust. The entire area reeked of fish guts, and on the floor of the boat there were stains that served as evidence of the owner having caught quite a few fish in the boat's servitude. The Goose directed Nick to the small captain's quarters, and Nick stepped inside obediantly.

Inside, the boat was entirely different. The captain's quarters reminded Nick more of a small yacht he once had for a summer than a tiny fisherman's boat. It was actually kind of inviting and would've been very comfortable if he wasn't so nerved up. The room was lit by tiny white Christmas tree lights, giving it a friendly glow. The furniture was white leather, and there was an array of drinks - from soda to alcoholic beverages - on the coffee table before the sofa. It looked like a little party inside, especially since there were like ten people sitting around the room.

The Goose pulled Nick down onto a small two-seater couch to one side, and Nick surveyed the other people in the room. Fat Freddy was there, and some other people he'd never seen before, but only one person commanded the attention in the room. He was a huge, burley looking guy, even bigger than Lou Pearlman (a feat that Nick hadn't realized was physically possible), with a huge nose. The guy was wearing a black pinstriped suit with a crisp wine-red dress shirt and a silky black tie. His Italian shoes were so shiny that Nick swore he could see his face in them, even from across the room. This, he realized, must be The Boss.

"Glad you could make it," the very large Boss said as Goose nodded. The Boss adverted his attention to the rest of the room. "Well boys, glad to tell ya that the Gopher's been caught at last." A cheer arose in the room from all the guys. Fat Freddy nearly knocked a smaller guy over by giving him a high five. "So tonight boys we celebrate. Bring the Gopher in," the Boss commanded, snapping his fingers.

Almost instantly, a couple guys stepped forward and threw down a guy at the Boss's feet. The guy blindfolded and had a bandana tied around his mouth to keep him from speaking. His hands were tied behind his back. Nick's eyes widened and he felt his heart begin to race. The Gopher, he realized, was this guy... not a real gopher at all!

The Boss smiled down at the bound man with a gold-toothed grin. "You're no Gopher after all," he jeered, his Italian accent suddenly very acute. Nick felt as though he were in a movie for real. "You're a weasle." The Boss laughed, and the Gopher trembled at his feet. "You know what we do to weasles don't you?"

"SLEEP WITH THE FISHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the men around him chorused. Nick's eyes widened as he realized what he was about to witness. His stomach turned and he felt ready to throw up.

"Let's see if weasles swim.... or sink," the Boss laughed, and the rest of the room followed his example. The Boss struggled to his feet, and one of the smaller guys to his side quickly supplied him a cane. "Grab the weasle boys...and let's go try out our little experiment, shall we?" With that, The Goose and Fat Freddy rushed forward to help grab hold of the man they called the Gopher, and followed along behind the Boss as he waddled from the captain's cabin and onto the deck of the boat.

Nick sat dumbfounded in the quarters, his jaw dropped, knees weak, and heart pounding in his chest... even after he heard the man's shouts, and eventually a loud splash.

After the little party dispersed, Nick wasn't sure what to do with himself. He felt confused and really cold. The Goose had departed with Fat Freddy, and even The Boss had left the docks in a long stretch Hummer that had picked him up. Nick wandered, alone, along a sidewalk that stretched along the Hudson river's edge. He stared up at the night sky, where the stars shined down on him almost scoldingly it seemed, though he wasn't sure what he did, or did not do that could've been done. Nick somehow found himself in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge within no time, staring down at the dock he'd stood on from afar.

Everything seemed so uncertain all of a sudden. At least he wasn't the one that they'd tossed into the river, but in a funny sort of way he'd almost have found that more justified, even though he didn't know what this Gopher guy had done. It just seemed like he was just as bad as anyone else that had been there for not speaking up and helping the guy... and maybe that was what the stars had beef with him about.

Nobody believed him, they didn't understand the stress he was under. He felt ready to explode inside. The fellas thought he was nuts, he wished he was, but he wasn't, and now he was a witness to a murder... a murder that he couldn't even report because if he did.. well, then instead of being a witness he'd become the victim.

The pieces of the last two days slowly slid more and more into place. For one the cryptic message he'd delivered to The Goose made perfect sense. Someone - namely The Gopher - had reported the mob to the police, and now he'd paid the dues. The Fox and The Hound were obviously two guys in charge of finding people who needed to be found, and they'd done their job, just as the Boss wanted them to, and now there was a Gopher in the bottom of the Hudson River.

Nick's thoughts swirled in an unmanageable way like this until he heard a car screech to a stop illegally on the bridge. A moment later, Kevin was by his side as the cab he'd arrived in disappeared in the traffic over the bridge and into Brooklyn. Kevin grabbed Nick's elbow, "What the hell was that?" he snarled, pissed off. "Why did you DO that? You are fucking lucky that I found you..." Nick looked at Kevin, and the look in his eyes instantly quieted Kevin's anger. "What happened?" he asked, concerned.

Nick shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Kevin..." he answered, "It's not like you'd believe me anyway. I just lost my marbles, remember?" He turned back to the river, pulling his elbow away from Kevin's grasp.

Kevin watched Nick's face, then followed his gaze to the docks below. "Did you go?" Kevin asked, turning to lean aganst the railing the way Nick was. Nick nodded in response. "Were they there?" Kevin asked gently, being careful not to load the question with too much sarcasm. Nick nodded again. "What happened?"

Nick turned to Kevin. "The Gopher was a person," he stated simply, "I didn't get it until I saw the guy, and the next thing I know they're tossing him in the river, and... That could've been me."

"Nick..."

"If you don't believe me you don't have to pretend you do, but don't tell me if you don't, either," Nick replied, not letting Kevin finish, "I don't have the patience for it right now... I just feel guilty. Like I should've done something to help the guy."

"You're saying they killed someone tonight?" Kevin asked.

Nick nodded, "Yeah. Like it was nothing. They had him all tied up and just tossed him over the side of the dock. I heard the splash."

Kevin suddenly felt his stomach grow heavy within him. Nick was either taking this story to it's very limits or... "You witnessed it?" Nick nodded. "Do you want to tell the cops?"

"And end up like that guy? No. I don't think it's the best idea," Nick answered, looking at Kevin. "C'mon Kev, you've seen the Sopranos. You don't tell on these people. It doesn't work that way." Kevin swallowed hard, and for the first time in two days the story didn't sound as ridiculous. Nick continued staring out at the water, the sound of the splash playing and replaying in his mind.

Suddenly, something caught Nick's eye. "What the..." He turned and began to jog down the bridge towards the Brooklyn side.

As Nick ran, Kevin's head snapped up. "Nick?" he quickly hurried to catch up, "Nick, what're you doing?"

"I think I see him," Nick cried, running ahead, "I see him!" When he reached the far side of the bridge, he quickly jumped the guard rail and hurried down a short grass-covered hill, to a small beach, littered with enough garbage to fill a state landfill. Beer cans, bottle caps, smouldering joints, chinese food cartons, pizza boxes -- it was all there. Nick ran by it all, right to the edge of the water on a sandy knoll.

Kevin tried to follow quickly, but it was harder for an older guy to run the same obstacles Nick had taken in a moment's time. By the time he got to the edge of the water, Nick had already dragged a soaking wet young man from the water's edge, and ripped away his blindfold and gag. Kevin rushed to Nick's side.

"Is he breathing, Kev??" Nick looked up at Kevin with pleading eyes.

Kevin knelt down and slid his hand under the guy's jaw to feel for a pulse, incredulous at what was happening. If this guy was the guy Nick saw them toss into the river... then... that means they were there TO toss the guy into the river.. which meant... Nick's story was the truth. Kevin felt his insides flipflop. And then he felt something else... the guy's pulse.

"He's alive," Kevin confirmed, then waved his hand over the guy's nose, feeling nothing. He quickly laid the guy down, pressed his chest, and the guy promptly threw up a ton of water. "He needs oxygen." Quickly, Kevin leaned down and covered the guy's nose and mouth with his own mouth and forcefully breathed in and out, jump starting the guy's lungs. Within moments, Kevin had him breathing again, even if it was mostly sputtering.

Nick watched, amazed at Kevin's ability. He felt proud that Kevin was his friend, and that he could always count on Kevin... even when he didn't particularly want to.

"Let's get this guy back to the hotel," Kevin said, whipping out his cell phone, "He needs a bed to rest in, and I don't think here under the Brooklyn Bridge is the safest place to be right at the moment..." He looked at Nick square in the eyes. "Besides. I think we have some stuff to talk to the other guys about."

Brian wandered down the stairs at 6:00 AM, yawning and carrying Baylee. He looked around the seating nook at the hotel, but for the first time since the Boys had arrived in New York, Kevin and Kris weren't there. He glanced at his watch to confirm the time, then held it to his ears to make sure that it was still ticking. It was. It'd become an unofficial ritual for the Boys to eat breakfast together in the hotel lobby, and Kevin and Kris had been the first ones there every morning. Brian sat down and looked at his son, sitting beside him on the chair he'd plopped him down on. "Your uncles are running late," he told him. Baylee stared at Brian with wide blue eyes. "Kevin's never late," Brian rambled on.

He glanced at the counter where the breakfast foods were waiting to be eaten and wondered if it'd be horrible to get his bagel while he was waiting for his friends to come downstairs. "Do you want some cereal?" he asked Baylee, who continued to stare at his daddy. Brian stood and hoisted Baylee up onto his hip, and walked to the counter, filling a styrofoam bowl with dry honey-nut cheerios. He was just reaching for his bagel when his cell phone vibrated against his leg from his pocket and he jumped. "Oh!" he yelped, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out. He looked at the display. A picture of Kevin with a rudolph nose, left over from Christmas, smiled up at him from the LCD. He rolled his eyes and opened it. "Where are ya'll?" he asked.

Kevin's voice sounded serious. "We're in my hotel room... Me, AJ, Howie, Nick and... a friend. Come on up here."

"How'd last night go?" Brian asked, handing the bowl of cereal to Baylee, who began stuffing pieces into his mouth, and headed towards the stairs.

Kevin hesitated, "That's what we need to talk about, that's why we're up here. Just come up, and we'll talk about it then."

Brian raised his eyebrow, even though Kevin couldn't see it. "Is everything OK?"

"Sure," Kevin replied slowly. "Just come up."

"I'm coming," Brian said. He paused, "Should I leave Baylee with Leighanne?"

"Yes," Kevin answered quickly, "Definitely." Then he hung up.

Brian slid the phone back into his pocket, "Want to go find mommy?" he asked Baylee. Baylee nodded, munching on the cheerios. "Where could she be?" Baylee pointed up the stairs with his free hand, his other one was wrapped arond Brian's neck, holding onto the hair at the back of his head to steady himself. Brian laughed, "Yup. She's up there." He took the stairs two at a time, and hurried down the hall to the room, sliding the key card and heading inside.

Leighanne looked up from where she was lounging on the bed doing her toenails. "That was quick," she said, eyeing Brian and Baylee suspiciously. "Everything OK?"

Brian nodded, "Kevin called me, they're doing breakfast in his room... He wants to talk about some stuff that went on with Nick last night. He doesn't want me to bring Baylee, though." He plopped Baylee and the cheerios down on the bed. Baylee promptly crawled over to Leighanne and leaned into her stomach, wrapping his little arms around her as much as he could.

Leighanne absently patted his head. "Well, let me know what's going on before you head to work, OK, baby?"

"Of course." Brian leaned across the bed and planted a kiss on Leighanne's nose. "I love you. I'll be back in a little bit."

"I love you too," Leighanne smiled, "Have fun. Try not to be too hard on Nick, honey."

Brian laughed, "I'll try not. It's just that this is the most outrageous thing that kid's ever said or done... It's hard not to find it humorous."

A moment later, Brian was knocking on Kevin's hotel room door. He heard the three security locks clink and clatter and finally the door creaked open and Kevin peeked out before opening it all the way. "OK, c'mon in."

"Wow, Mr. High Security," Brian laughed, stepping inside, "What's all the suspicion about? You're the one that asked me to come up..." Kevin closed the door behind Brian and relocked all three security locks again. "So what happened last night?"

Kevin guided Brian further into the room. Sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchenette was AJ, Howie, Nick, and some other random guy that reminded Brian of Jeremy Piven. All four of them looked up. Kristin was just putting a plate full of pancakes in front of the Jeremy Piven looking guy. He smiled, and thanked her, lifting his fork and shoveling in a large mouthful quickly as though he'd never eaten before.

"Good morning, Brian," Nick cried as Bri stepped around the corner and into the room.

"Hi," Brian answered, confused, "Who the hell are you?" he pointed at the Jeremy Piven guy.

Kevin took a deep breath. "You might want to sit down for this one."

"Who is it?" Brian asked, sitting in a desk chair to one side of the kitchenette.

"This," Nick said, sweeping his hand in the guy's direction, "Is The Gopher."

Brian's brow furrowed, "What?"

Kevin looked at Brian solemnly. "Brian, Nick's telling the truth about the whole thing. I saw most of last night with my own two eyes... And as crazy as it sounds... Nick's not making any of it up."

Nick nodded, "I TOLD you guys..."

"What are you saying?" Brian asked, "That this guy -" he motioned at The Gopher, "-is a mobster?"

"Actually," The Gopher said, "I'm a loan officer at a local bank."

"This guy's the SHIIIIIIIIIIT!" AJ cried.

The Gopher laughed. "Why is that the shit?" he asked, the word sounded strange coming out of the guy - he seemed somewhat straightlaced.

"Don't mind AJ," Kevin answered him, "AJ gets excited over a Q-Tip if you catch him on the right day."

"The loan officer part isn't the shit," AJ explained, "The part where he swims in the Hudson river, gagged, blindfolded and with two hands tied behind his back."

Brian's eyebrows went up. "What?"

"It wasn't that big of a deal," The Gopher injected quickly, "Really."

Nick's eyes widened, "WHAT? No it was a HUGE deal! They totally tried to kill him! They were gonna make him go sleep with the fishes like I thought they were gonna do with me and instead it was him and they had him all tied up and it was really scary and I thought they were gonna kill him and then I heard a splash and---"

Howie held up his hand in front of Nick's mouth. "Calm down, crazy man.. Remember to breathe." Nick stopped. Howie turned to The Gopher. "Tell Brian what happened."

"YEAH!" AJ yelled enthusiastically, clearly enamoured with the guy's story.

The Gopher wiped his mouth with a napkin and put his fork down on the edge of the plate. He cleared his throat. "It started quite a long time ago, actually, almost a year now. There was a man who came into the bank I work at and asked me for a loan. The reason he gave for needing a loan was because he needed to pay off a debt. When I denied the guy his loan, he became very emotional and explained the truth to me - that he had gotten caught up with the mob, and needed the money to pay them, so that they wouldn't 'take him out'." He nervously poked at the fork. "I didn't give the guy a loan, I thought he was telling stories --"

"Just like ya'll thought I was doing!" Nick interrupted.

The Gopher paused, then continued. "Anyways, a few nights later it was in the news that the man was found dead on the shore of the Hudson River, under the Brooklyn Bridge, where he washed up. The authorities assumed it was suicide, that he'd jumped off the bridge at some point during the night, but there was no evidence - his neck wasn't broken and it's to be assumed that one's neck would've broken from that height. He'd drowned. About a week after the man's death, the police tracked down one of the mob members, and put him in jail for the murder and his involvement in the mob."

"Wow," Brian mused. "How did you get involved?"

"Well, apparently the guy had told them that he'd tried to take a loan out at my bank," he explained, and they realized that I was one of the only places that the information could have leaked from. I was at work over a month after the man's death when a shady hispanic man arrived at my desk without an appointment and introduced himself as The Goose."

Nick nodded, "That guy's creeptastic."

The Gopher continued, "He wanted money to preserve my life, and my pledge to the mob's Boss to ensure I wouldn't reveal further details they were certain I had. I didn't know anything, though, and I told him that. But he didn't believe me. After he left, giving me less than 24 hours to think about it, I went to the police immediately, telling him what The Goose had told me. They immediately entered me into the Witness Protection Program and relocated me to a place in Maine where they figured I'd be safe from the mob's grasp. I was, for nearly seven months, and then they showed up at my door step. They took me back here to New York, and held me in the Captain's boat on the pier by Folton's. I managed to escape, and I tried to return to the police, but they got to me before I could. Next thing I know I'm bound in the Captain's boat, and they're throwing me off the pier into the Hudson River."

Brian's eyes were wide as the man told the story. "What then?" he asked, intrigued.

"They'd tied a weight to my ankles. I went straight down to the bottom. But I got lucky because the one that'd tied the knots wasn't very good at them, and the weight fell off as I dropped, and I was suspended half way down. I got caught in a slight current, but managed to kick myself to the top, surfacing right under the dock. I could hear them, talking and celebrating above me. I got caught against a support beam, and the current held me there. I listened as they talked, and I heard when they dispersed. I waited until I was certain all of them were gone, and then I kicked off from the beam, and let the river carry me further down. I tired, and I thought I'd drown. The water pulled me under several times with it's natural currents. I hit my head on a large rock," he touched a bandage Brian just now noticed on the side of his head, "And blacked out. That's the last I remember until Kevin and Nick managed to wake me up in a cab on the way back here, to this hotel, where I am now, with you kind people."

"That's amazing," Brian marvelled. "Truly." He hesitated, "But... What happens if they find that out?"

A long, heavy silence fell over the room. AJ looked at The Gopher. "Yeah, what does happen?"

"If they find out," Gopher answered, "I am in very real danger... and so are all of you."

Brian looked nervous, Nck shuffled his feet, Kevin wrapped a protective arm around Kristin, Howie bit his lip and AJ's eyes widened. "But they can't kill me," AJ suddenly stated flatly, "I'm too good lookin' for that."

Nick snorted. "Like they care about what you look like, dude."

Kevin took a deep breath. "Well clearly we'll have to up security, and--"

"They got past security once already, Kev," Nick said, fishing into his pocket to pull out the note from The Goose. He tossed it onto the counter. "If they did it once, they'll do it again."

Brian stood up. "I need to send Leighanne and Baylee home. Now."

"Leighanne and Baylee?" Gopher asked.

"My wife and son," Brian explained.

Kevin nodded, "Yes, I think that would be a good idea," he said, "And I think, Kristin, that you should go, too."

"Kevin, I --" she started to argue, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

They all stayed silent for a moment, thoughts mulling in their minds. Kevin spoke first. "Well, let's get the wives a flight, immediately, if not sooner, and I'll have Johnny call and alert security. We should probably all stay in one room for the remainder of the time in NY, and call the cops--"

"Don't." Gopher's voice was urgent, "Don't involve the NYPD. They can't do anything - they're no match for these people. It's too obvious, and it's not enough. We need something else - something more reliable."

Nick bit his lips, "We need an undercover agent.. or... something. An ambush. Something that'll get all the mobsters at once, including the boss, and take care of them all."

Kevin looked at Nick, "For a blonde, you certainly are smart sometimes."

"I know, I try," Nick smiled. He paused, "Plus that's how they get rid of the bad guys in the movies."

Kevin took a deep breath, "Now we've just got to figure out how to get on that."

"Hey -" Nick looked at their new friend. "Is your name really Gopher?"

The Gopher laughed, "Yes, actually. Timothy Gopher, but everyone always has called me Gopher, kind of like Beaver Cleaver, I guess."

Brian pointed to the door, "I'm going to go call and get the tickets booked."

"And I'll call security," Kevin added, "I'll also try to figure out how to get working on that undercover plan."

Gopher grabbed his fork, "And I'll destroy the evidence of the presence of pancakes."

AJ pointed to Howie. "Don't worry. Me and D will take care of the promotional stuff for today."

"We will?" Howie asked, "But shouldn't we work on helping them with all the other stuff first? I mean that seems more important, doesn't it?"

AJ shrugged, "If we want to have the element of surprise... we probably shouldn't let on that we're planning anything at all. Postponing the album the day before release is kind of a red flag to a problem. Someone's got to do the promo. And tomorrow, we've all got to be involved. So keep that in mind, guys."

Kevin, Brian and Nick all nodded. "And I should help them," Nick decided, "The fans'll miss me if I'm not there."

"True," Kevin agreed. "And if only Brian and I are missing you can say we had to go home to Kentucky for something, but that we'll be back tomorrow."

"Which will explain the paparazzi pictures of us at JFK," Brian added. "It's all falling into place perfectly."

"Of course," Kevin nodded, "That's because we're just too good."



Brian burst into the hotel room a few moments later, and grabbed Leighanne's suitcase from the closet on his way in. Leighanne sat up on the bed as Brian hoisted the purple flowered case onto the bed next to her. She looked at him, confused, "What happened? Did you have a fight?"

"You're going home," Brian replied flatly, "No arguments. You're going home."

"Why?" She moved Baylee to the mattress beside her and stood up, going to Brian and resting a hand on his chest. "Aren't you coming too? What about the album release tomorrow, you wanted me in the audience at GMA, remember?"

Brian shook his head. "No, I want you to go home."

"What is this about? Are you mad at me?" she furrowed her brow at him, concerned.

"No," Brian replied, "I love you and I love my son, and you both mean everything to me and more. That's why you have to leave. Now, right now. And Kristin is coming with you."

Leighanne hesitated a moment, then looked square into Brian's eyes. "Nick was telling the truth, wasn't he?"

Brian swallowed hard, looking back into her eyes. "Yes."

"Are you in trouble now, too?" she asked, her voice trembling. Brian didn't answer. He turned to the dresser, pulled a drawer opened and began taking Leighanne's things out and packing them. Leighanne waited a moment, then reached out and touched Brian's arm gently. He stopped and looked at her for a long minute before she stepped closer to him, and wrapped her arms around him like she would never let go.

Nick and AJ waited in the lobby of the hotel while Howie had gone to change his clothes and "real quickly" fix his hair. Nick sipped on hotel coffee while AJ picked at a muffin. People were milling around the room like crazy, ready to go begin their tours of the city. Outside traffic congested the street and they could hear the faint sounds of car horns blaring. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their own troubles, too much so to notice the two singers sitting in the breakfast nook quietly waiting for their bandmate to come downstairs.

"This could take forever," Nick commented, yawning, "It's Howie, and it's Howie's hair."

AJ looked around nervously, feeling as though someone was watching him. He shrugged the feeling away after a quick scan of the room, seeing nobody looking at him, and decided it was paranoia after the morning's discoveries and disclosures. "This is truth," he responded to Nick, a bit on the delayed side. Nick gave him a funny look. AJ leaned closer to him. "Do you feel like someone's watching you?"

"Not really," Nick answered, "Not anymore than I usually do."

AJ cast his eyes around the room again. "I feel like someone's watching us."

"You're just paranoid," Nick accused him, shaking his head, "Nobody's watching us. Remarkably few people have even noticed us at all. Besides, even if someone was watching us it's not a huge brainbender why."

"You're probably right," AJ agreed, leaning back again and popping another bite of muffin into his mouth, "With all the crazy shit going on right now, I'm probably being stupid. Speaking of that," he rubbed his hands on his jeans, "I'm sorry I was a bastard to you before. I shouldn't have needed Kevin to corrobate what you were saying to believe you. You're my oldest friend and I should've just trusted you. Or at least not have made fun of you. Quite as much as I did, anyway."

Nick shrugged, "What else are AJ's for?"

"You mean THAT'S what we're for? Making fun of you?" He smirked, "My life makes so much more sense now."

Nick squinted his eyes at AJ. "Nice."

"Well I'm just doing my....." AJ's voice trailed off into silence.

"What?" Nick asked, "Doing your what? Duty? Assistant? Is your assistant a girl? Why'd I end up with a dude assistant??" Nick paused, realizing AJ wasn't answering. "AJ?" he looked concerned and started to turn around.

AJ quickly grabbed Nick's wrist, "Don't. Don't turn around. There's a guy... a lil bit behind you, but a little to your left... he's staring right at you. He's reading a book, and is wearing a funny hat." AJ swallowed and adverted his gaze from the guy. "I told you someone was looking at us."

Nick sat perfectly still, practically petrified in place. "You shittin' me?"

AJ shook his head. "Not at all, so just act natural. Hopefully Howie'll get down here and we can leave." The two of them sat frozen in their seats, nervous as hell, unable to do much but sit and swallow their own saliva trying to think of other things. AJ's muffin went untouched and Nick began nervously wringing his hands.

After what seemed a decde, Howie stepped up beside the table, looking not all that much different than he'd looked before he started, and greeted them. "OK, I'm ready. Let's go."

AJ pulled Howie down into a chair. "Sit a second." Howie sat. "The guy near the door with the book. He's been watching Nick and I for awhile now. Don't look at him on the way out. Got it?"

Howie looked at AJ with a weird expression. "Uh. What guy by the door with a book?"

AJ looked. "He left???" Nick looked, too. "Well. Maybe he wasn't watching us, then." AJ shrugged. Nick let out a breath of relief.

"You two are paranoid," Howie said simply. "Dudes if the mob was gonna stare at you, they wouldn't make it obvious. Come on, we've got stuff to do."

They all stood up and as they made their way to the door AJ glanced at the seat where the guy had been. In his place was the book he'd been reading, and AJ noticed it was about scuba diving. Nick stepped outside first, followed by Howie, and then AJ. They began walking down the sidewalk, blending with the crowd. When they reached the curb, Nick felt someone grab his elbow. "Come with me."

Nick looked up and found himself actually looking up (now there's a first) into a heavy set man's face, his eyes shrouded by sunglasses. "GUYS!" Nick cried as the man guided him towards a white van.

AJ and Howie looked over. Howie's jaw dropped. "Nick! Someone stop that guy!" AJ burst into a run in their direction, but the guy had already pulled Nick into the van and slammed the door before AJ reached it. He banged his palms against the white exterior, but it did no good because the van swept away from the curb. AJ chased it the way a german shepherd dog might've, but to no avail because the van quickly pulled into traffic and veered around a corner, blending into the hub-bub of the city. Howie stood rooted to the sidewalk in disbelief.

"Now what?" AJ yelled from where he stood, then stepped out of the street. "What're we gonna do?"

Howie shook his head, "I have no idea. Did you see which way it went?" AJ pointed over his shoulder. "Well don't just stand there..." Howie said, breaking into a jog, "Let's go. It's New York -- they're bound to get stuck in traffic." The two guys dashed down the street.



Nick's eyes were wide and his breath came out in short gasps as he laid on the floor of the back of the van, confused and staring at the door through which he'd just been tugged moments before. "Who are you? What're you doing with me??? What're you doing with me? I'm not Jack! Please, I'm not Jack! Don't hurt me!"

The man who had initially grabbed him removed his sunglasses, revealing a stern-looking, gym-teacher like face. Nick cowered away. The man reached for his pocket. Nick began to see flashes of his entire life zoom by his eyes - certain he was going to die. He hoped that the other guys were safe and that Gopher would get out of trouble OK too. He wished he'd called his parents and tried one more time to reconcile and he wondered what Heaven was like. The man pulled something out of his pocket - Nick was certain it was a gun - and held it up. Nick closed his eyes.

"Officer Bryant," the man's voice was low, "FBI, New York."

Nick peeped out of one eye at the man's badge, which he held up in front of Nick's face. Nick stared into the guy's eyes in the picture, then blinked up at him in real life. "You're a cop?" he asked, confused. Suddenly he recalled the guy having been at the train station and in the lobby the time before. "Why are you following me?"

"I've been on your tail since you were at Fat Freddy's newsstand Saturday," Officer Bryant replied. "We were waiting for our undercover guy, Jack Taylor, to get there, when you came along and stumbled into his place. We weren't sure if you were aware of your involvement or not, and finally we realized you were - but last night, proved it was involuntary after you got Timothy Gopher out of the Hudson for us."

Nick paused, "You've got undercover cops in the mob?"

"We were planting one Saturday," Officer Bryant explained, "During the investigation of the death of a man named Kensington a year ago. When Timothy Gopher went missing from Maine, we knew exactly where he was, and we knew the only way to help him was to place undercover men in the middle of the action. Somehow, we got you instead."

"It was totally an accident..." Nick answered. He paused. "Does this mean I'm off the hook? I don't have to worry about it anymore, right? Cos you can send in your undercover guy and they'll forget about me. I can go back to normal?"

Officer Bryant shook his head. "I wish it was that easy for you, Nick. I'm sorry, but it's not."

"Why not? You just said you've got the real Jack Taylor, and --"

He held up a hand to stop Nick. "But now they think YOU, Nick, are Jack Taylor. We cannot let them find out anything different or else the entire thing is blown."

Nick nodded slowly, "OK, but... What're you gonna do? How do I get out of this all? Isn't there anyway? I just want to be normal again."

"Well," Officer Bryant said, "Here's the thing. You, Nick, are Jack Taylor. It's too late now for you to back out. And if we're going to stop them from bombing the Embassy... it's too late for us to put a new officer in."

"Bomb the embassy?" Nick asked, eyes widening, "What? Since when?"

Officer Bryant smiled cautiously, "That's their plans for Wednesday, you know."

Nick swallowed hard. "So what do you plan to do?"

The officer looked at Nick square in the eyes. "I need to ask you a favor."



"How.. much.. further.." Howie was beginning to wheeze, "Can you.. see.. the... the... the van?!"

AJ panted, running, but not quite as breathless as Howie was. He'd taken to running over the past couple months, and had perfected the art of smoking while jogging. Running without the cigarette was just that much easier. He nodded, "It's up here... right up here.. C'mon D, you can do it. Keep pushing yourself."

They ducked between tourists with cameras and resident New Yorkers with their stylish business suits, nearly knocking over a few women whose high heels didn't allow for much balance. AJ apologized profusively to many of them, and thought that if he hadn't been chasing after a van to save one of his very best friends lives he probably would've had to stop and hit on a couple of them -- especially that sexy red head a few blocks back.

"How.. long.. have we... been... running for?" Howie gasped out as they turned another block in pursuit of the van.

AJ shrugged as he galloped on. "Twelve blocks.. maybe thirteen.."

Suddenly, the van pulled to the side of the road, and Nick hopped out of the back of the van, waved, and stepped onto the sidewalk. AJ stopped short, skidding to a halt, and Howie ran right into his back, nearly knocking him over. "What the hell'd we stop for?" Howie asked, breathing ridiculously loudly. He looked up ahead, and spotted Nick coming towards them. "What the hell?"

"I have no idea," AJ replied. He bent over, resting against his knees.

Howie looked down at AJ bent over in front of him and stepped to one side. "Dude do not stand like that in public in front of me."

Nick came up to them a moment later. "You guys followed us?"

"Course," AJ replied to Nick's sneakers. He leaned up, "Why wouldn't we?"

Howie glared at Nick, "We thought you were about to be kidnapped. What happened?"

Nick smiled. "We've got someone to go undercover now."

AJ raised an eyebrow, "We do? How? Who? Who was that in the van?"

Nick laughed. "That was Officer Bryant. The guy with the book in the lobby. He's been watching me since Saturday when all this crap started. He wanted to talk to me about ways to fix the problem...before it was too late."

"So who's going undercover?" Howie asked.

Nick's smile only widened. "Me."

"You?" Howie looked confused.

Nick nodded enthusiastically. "Yup. Me. I'ma saaave the day!!!"

AJ held his head with his hands. "Oh God! We're all gonna die."

Kevin and Brian were in a cab and on their way back to the hotel after seeing their wives off at the airport when Nick called to tell them about Officer Bryant. Brian's phone vibed against his leg, and he jumped, "Oh! It's vibin' on my hinney again!"

"You really gotta set that thing on a ringtone," Kevin commented as Brian fished it out of his pocket. "It always makes you jump. People are going to start thinking you've got some kind of weird tick or something."

Brian stuck his tongue out at Kevin, then flipped the phone open. "Yellow, this is Brian!"

"Brian?? It's Nick," Nick said, as though Brian wouldn't recognize his voice. "Guess what happened to me just now?"

Brian covered the mouth piece, "It's Nick." Kevin nodded. "I dunno, what?"

"Me and AJ and Howie started to go to do the promo work," Nick started.

"Oh yeah? That's good," Brian replied.

"Yeah except we didn't get far."

"No?"

"No. I got kidnapped."

"What?" Brian sat up straighter, "When? By who? That's bad!"

"No, no," Nick said, trying to calm him down a bit, "No it's OK. Because it wasn't the bad guys that got me, it was a cop... Officer Bryant."

"Oh. That's good," Brian leaned back, nerves soothed for a moment.

Nick paused, "Well. Yeah, it's good I guess. Except they said that they've been following me since Saturday and know I'm involved with the mob."

"That's bad."

"No it's good, because they know it's involuntary because I was mistaken for their undercover agent," Nick explained.

"Oh. Well, that's good then," Brian answered. Kevin gave Brian a funny look, and Brian shrugged.

"Well, kinda," Nick replied, "Except that now they don't got an undercover agent in there... and the mob's planning to bomb the embassy building."

Brian's voice was grave. "Oh noooo.. that's BAD."

"No, it's OK though," Nick said, his voice gaining enthusiasm, "Because they found a new undercover agent they've already got in place..."

"Oh thats good!" Brian sounded relieved.

"Guess who it is?" Nick asked.

"Who?"

"Me!!!! I'ma saaaaave the day!"

Brian paused, then responded with an empathetic, "That's REALLY, REALLY bad!!!!!!!!!!"

Kevin grabbed the phone from his cousin, unable to wait any longer to find out what was so good...or bad... or good.. or.. what the hell ever it was now. "What the hell is going on, Carter?"

"I'ma be an undercover agent!!!!" Nick said, summarizing the whole story in one sentence to save time. Kevin stayed silent. "Kevin?"

He took a deep breath. "Ok. Now you've had your fun. What's really going on?"

Nick spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "I.... am... going... to be... an under...cover...agent."

Kevin sighed, "You're serious. We're all gonna die."

"No, no, Officer Bryant and his people are gonna all up and train me - tonight. They're gonna give me a crash course on -- yanno, like.. policing and stuff..."

"Policing?" Kevin smirked, pleased Nick couldn't see him because it'd certainly spark some anger on his confused, blonde bandmate's part.

"Yeah. Policing." Nick paused, "Aw shit that ain't the right word."

"Not exactly," Kevin answered, "But I catch your meaning."

Nick continued, "And then I'm gonna single handedly bring down the whole operation."

"Single handedly?"

"Well..." Nick hesitated a bit. "OK, so not single handedly. But single handedly with a lil bit of help from a really big police squad, a SWAT team, and a bullet proof vest."

Kevin nodded, "Got'cha."

Nick sounded excited, "Dude I'm gonna save the day! Isn't that whacked?"

"It sure is, Nick... More than you know." Kevin paused. "Hey what about the release stuff tomorrow? We've got GMA, and Virgin, and the MTV release party..."

"I'll be there," Nick answered, "Don't worry. The album's important, too. Just - yanno, I gotta save the world while I'm at it is all."

Kevin took a deep breath. "Well, we'll be back to the hotel in ten minutes."

"OK," Nick answered, "I'm just chillin' with Gopher. AJ and D went to do the promo like they said. I stayed cos I gotta get sleep if I'm gonna train all night then work all day tomorrow. Even we super heroes need our beauty rest."

"Right," Kevin rolled his eyes, "OK, then, Super Hero. I'm hanging up now. See ya when we get there."

"Bye, Kev." Nick laughed, "Hey, think Stan Lee will make a comic about me?"

"Not likely," Kevin replied. "Besides - he already did that."

"Oh yeah... That was fun, huh?"

Kevin's voice was stern, "Goodbye, Nick."

"Oh yeah. Bye, Kev." Nick hung up.

Brian raised his eyebrows at Kevin. "What do you think? Should we run now or stick around to watch the blood bath?"

Kevin laughed. "I think we're all in very real trouble. Obviously this Officer Bryant guy didn't look too far into who Nick was -- cos he is definitely NOT the man they want undercover."

"What should we do?" Brian asked.

Kevin handed Brian's phone back to him and rubbed his chin. "I don't know... I've got to think up a plan though, and fast. Otherwise we're going to get our asses kicked by all this."



Gopher's voice echoed in the hotel room. "Take that! DIE!!! Die!!!!!!"

"Oh! Oh!! God! You got me!!" Nick wailed. He kicked the floor, watching the blood splatter everywhere. "Come offen it, you keep winning." He threw the game paddle across the floor. "I NEVER lose at Ninja Warrior 5." Nick pouted.

Gopher laughed, "To think this is the first time I've ever played..."

Nick's eyes widened. "You gotta be shittin' me! I'm losin' to a beginner?" He leaped for the paddle. "Best out of 50?"

"You're on."

Brian, Howie, AJ and Kevin sat in the living room of the Richardson's hotel room, watching as Nick and Gopher battled on the PlayStation 2. Nick's face was corkscrewed tight, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, leaning this way and that way, as though moving his body might move his character on the screen. Brian rolled his eyes. "When are they getting here to take him?" he asked, looking at Kevin, "They've been at that all day. I'm getting sick of it."

Kevin sighed. "Hey, chuckleheads," he nudged Nick's back with the tip of his foot. Nick waved him off absently, focusing only on the screen.

"Not now... just.. one.. more..." Nick barely spoke, his mind on the game. Kevin repeated the offending foot tap, only harder and more insistant this time, and Nick squealed mournfully as his gaming character fell to the floor, defeated. "Hey!!! Not fair! Kevin was kicking me!"

Gopher laughed, "I won fair and square!"

Nick pouted and turned on Kevin. "What the hell was that for?"

Kevin smiled, "Relax. I was just wondering... When is Mr. Bryant supposed to come to collect you?"

Nick frowned. "Officer Bryant? He's coming tonight at..." Kevin gave Nick The Look, but Nick's voice was drowned out by Gopher interrupting anyway.

Gopher looked concerned, "Officer Bryant?"

"He's this really nice agent on the --" Nick started to explain but Kevin kicked him again to shut him up.

"He's a friend," Kevin ammended.

Nick gave Kevin a funny look, then shrugged and said, "He's a really nice guy."

Gopher looked over the five Boys suspiciously. "Agent? On the task force?" He laughed quietly, "You can tell me this stuff you know. I mean, I AM your friend, right?"

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you are."

A few moments later, Kevin pulled Nick into the hallway by his elbow. "We'll be right back," he called as they closed the door. He turned on Nick quickly. "Do NOT tell Gopher about this thing with Officer Bryant."

Nick's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because..." Kevin shook his head, "I don't know, I just have a funny feeling about him after the way he reacted to all that in the room there."

"OK," Nick agreed slowly, "I can do that."

Kevin nodded. "Good."



Officer Bryant had checked and double, even triple and quadruple, checked the address for the hotel where his soon-to-be honorary agent was staying, but he still couldn't believe this was it. Someone famous, he decided, must be in town that he hadn't heard about. The lobby of the hotel was overflowing out onto the street with teenage girls who were screaming every time the elevator doors opened. He rolled his eyes -- the whole herd of them, like stupid sheep, waiting for their idol to emerge from the depths of the hotel. Really.

He pushed his way through them as they squealed and chattered excitedly, half of them with their face painted with writing all over their foreheads. He ignored them, trying to make his way to the desk. When he got there, somewhat maimed by all the excited pushing and shoving throughout the crowd, he leaned against the desk, winded, and relieved to have made it all that way.

The clerk smiled a stressed-out, plastered-on beam. "Good evening sir, how can I help you?" She winced as something on the other side of the lobby crashed to the floor - what could not be seen through the density of the girls gathered in the room.

"I'm looking for a particular guest's room - he asked me to meet him here where he was staying for a business meeting, and obviously as you can see we're going to have trouble connecting here in the lobby." Agent Bryant nodded back to the girls.

The clerk smiled tighter. "Of course. However, I'm not really privvy to give such information out..."

"If you call him, he'll come down then, how's that?" he asked.

She sighed. "Name?"

"Nick Carter," the officer stated.

The girl looked up with a smile. "Sir, I'm sorry. You're a creative man, and I must say an odd candidate for a Backstreet Boys fan, but nonetheless, you're going to have to go join the others and wait." She pointed at the girls behind him.

Agent Bryant shook his head, "No I'm not looking for the Backstreet Boys, miss. I need Nick Carter."

"Right, and so do all of them," she motioned with a pen and started to turn away.

Suddenly some stuff clicked into place for Officer Bryant and he wondered how he'd ever been so blind so as to not notice that he was dealing with an internationally recognized popstar. He shook his head at his own stupidity. "Miss," he called her back before she'd walked away. She stared blandly at him as he fished through his pockets for his badge. "I need Mr. Carter." He tossed the badge onto te desk for her to see.

She looked at it, then raised her eyebrows at him. "Look... I could have you arrested for impersonatinan officer," she said smoothly, handing the badge back to him, "But you're in luck. I'm in no mood to create MORE hassle than is already going on here tonight. If you go, I won't call the cops. OK?" she forced another grim smile. "Go."

"Ma'm..."

"I said go," she said, reaching for the phone, "Or I'll call them. The Boys security guards have not informed me of any of this -and I'm thereby not authorized to even call them right now."

Officer Bryant shook his head, "They wouldn't know becauyse it's Top Secret ---"

She laughed, "Oh you ARE a kook. Please back away."

He sighed and backed away, planning to go to the sidewalk to call Nick himself. He started to bumble along through the thrashing crowd, but found it nearly impossible to get through. Suddenly he heard a shrill chorus of screams, as the elevator doors across the lobby opened slowly. A rush in the crowd caused him to lose his balance and he fell against a young girl. "Hey watch it mister," she cried, her Brooklyn accent thick.

"Sorry," he apologized, righting her. He eyed her a moment. She was dressed in jeans and a Backstreet Boys tour shirt with the sleeves rolled up at her shoulders. She was carrying a bag with a tiny chihuahua puppy peeking out. "Are these functions always like this?" he asked.

She nodded, "Oh yeah. Backstreet fans are intense." She popped a wad of gum that'd been stuck in her cheek a moment before, and eyed him. "You a dad here?" she questioned.

He shook his head, "I'm here for Nick Carter."

She laughed, "You're old AND a gay fan, that's great."

"No- no, I'm --" he paused, and thought better of it and shut his mouth. She continued giggling. "They won't let me in, though," he explained.

The girl stuck out her hand, "I'm Stacey," she introduced herself, "And you know, I think we just may be able to help each other out here."

"How so?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Stacey smiled. "I've been looking for someone to help me out with a plan I've got.... If you can get me in, I can get you to Nick's room... or at least to his floor."

Agent Bryant glanced at his watch -- he was already ten minutes later than he'd planned. He glanced at the girl. "You've got a deal."



"What on earth could be keeping your friend?" Kevin asked upstairs.

Nick shrugged, "Maybe he got lost."

"Or maybe he was full of crap," AJ intoned. Nick's eyebrow shot up. "I meant Bryant, not you."

"OK, good."



Officer Bryant approached the desk again. "You know what," he said, greeting the same clerk, who looked anything but amused. "I can't get back out, I'd like a room."

The girl yawned, "Rooms aren't cheap here, sir. There's a Comfort Inn in Times Square, I can call a taxi cab for you if you'd ---"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head, "Here. I've got cash."

She raised her eyebrow. "Two fifty a night."

Bryant reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Are twenties OK?"


Fifteen minutes later, Bryant and Stacey were crouched on the floor in a room, a toilet paper diagram of the hotel's layout lay before them, carefully constructed by Stacey. She pointed with a pencil with the Boys faces printed on it as she spoke. "So here's the deal. I'll go up in this elevator to the fifth floor. You'll take these stairs. I'll distract the guards at the elevator - and you meanwhile sneak through the door to the stairs, very quietly, go to room 517 and get Nick to come get me before security beats the crap out of me." She looked up at Officer Bryant, "OK?"

He nodded. "Stairwell, room 517, Nick, you. Got it."

"Good." Stacey smiled. "Hey you're pretty cool for an old guy."

Agent Bryant laughed. "Thanks, Stacey. Now let's get this show on the road."



When the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor, all five of the Boys security guards rushed to it to make sure no intruding fans were emerging. They, of course, found Stacey and her little dog, too (cue evil laughter). "Miss, this floor's off limits," announced one guy, stepping forward as though he were the leader of the pack.

Stacey's mouth dropped open, "Oh.. oh.. I'm so sorry," she faked, peeking between them at the stairwell door. Officer Bryant was peering through the skinny rectangular window. She touched her hair, which was their signal, "Really I am..." The security guys watched her closely even as she began to back into the elevator, "I really am." She discreetly unbuckled the velcrove holding her dog into his bag. As soon as the velcrove was undone, the puppy promptly leaped from the bag, dashing into the hallway, through the legs of the security guys, and pandamonium struck. "BRODY!" she screamed as the dog rushed down the hallway - thankfully NOT the direction Agent Bryant was tiptoing down, "Oh my DOG!"

All five burly guys rushed for the dog, all at once, tumbling about over each other like a group of uncoordinated football players. She covered her mouth to stop from laughing. "Brody!" they called, each trying to get the dog. She watched, then stole a glance as Officer Bryant banged on room 517. Nothing. He looked at her with a questioning glance, she appeared puzzled. She motioned for him to try the next room. He knocked, nothing still.

"Here dog! DOG!" Suddenly Brody rushed past Stacey, and down the hall towards Officer Bryant. The security guards turned around, spotted the offender, and rushed down the hall, the dog and it's owner old news. "Hey! Stop right there!" they cried.

Bryant banged urgently on the next three doors as quickly as possible before security got to him. The third time he heard a faint voice yell from within, "Coming!"

"Hurry up," he grumbled.

Security reached the door before whoever was inside did, and grabbed Officer Bryant quickly, pulling him away from the door. Suddenly Brody raced back between the guards legs, tripping the head security guard, and leaped back into Stacey's arms. Kevin and Nick stepped into the hallway as their head security guard landed on the floor of the hallway with a bang, pulling the federal agent down with him. Nick braced himself, half expecting an earthquake to ensue.

A weird silence fell over the hall as the two men laid on the floor and the dog sat trembling from the excitement of the past few minutes in his owner's arms. Stacey's eyes were wide because the Backstreet Boys (the ACTUAL Backstreet Boys!) were in the hallway, mere feet away from her, and Nick stared down at the officer. Kevin cleared his throat as the other security team members trotted up the hallway, looking a bit sheepish.

"Good evening," Agent Bryant stuck his hand up in the air, and Nick promptly bent over to shake it. "How are you tonight, Nick?"

"I'm aiight, you dawg?" Nick answered like the entire scene was natural. Kevin blinked at him, and shook his head. Nick motioned to Stacey. "Who's that?"

Officer Bryant looked, "That's my partner in crime," he answered, "And her little dog, too. Stacey," he added, "She helped me get in."

Nick smiled warmly, "Hey Stacey!" She waved weakly, and opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Nick toddled down the hall to give her a hug, while Kevin helped Bryant and the security guard off the floor. Nick reached Stacey's side and looked at the chihuahua. "You got a rat dog."

"His name's Brody," she said, her voice in a daze, staring at him, "After your part in Hollow..." her eyes were wide with petrified fear.

Nick laughed, "That's cool." He leaned in and hugged her. "Thanks for comin' out..." He paused a second. "Wait.. wait right here." Jogging away, Stacey watched him retreat, and a moment later he returned holding up a CD. "Here you go," he handed it to her, "Advanced copy of the album -- thanks for helping Bryant up here."

Stacey squealed and hugged the disc to her chest, "Oh my Gooooodddd!"

Well, Nick thought, even if I don't save the world, at least I made one person happy today.

After Stacey left, Kevin and Nick guided Agent Bryant into the hotel room. Kevin whispered quietly to Bryant as they stepped inside. "Be careful what you say. I have a bad feeling about this guy, Gopher..." Bryant nodded discreetly.

Brian was kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back of it, staring at the door. "What's all the commotion about out there?" he asked when he saw his two friends and the federal officer entering the room.

Nick exploded into a description. "There was this chick -- and and - and then her dog - and it was like everyone was -- but they didn't - and then Skip was like WOOOAAAH!! And then - BANG! and Bryant's like 'hi' and I'm like 'hey' and then I gave her the CD!"

Brian stared blankly at Nick.

Kevin cleared his throat, "A fan caused a distraction because they wouldn't let Bryant up."

"Ohhhh," Brian nodded, "OK." He looked at Nick, "Cool."

Nick flung himself on the floor in front of the PlayStation where Gopher was sitting still, waiting for him to return, but staring at the officer. Officer Bryant smiled to Gopher, "Hello, I'm Agent Bryant..."

"Gopher," The Gopher replied.

Kevin motioned to the Peanut Gallery. "That's Howie, AJ, and Brian."

Bryant turned to look. "Hello, Boys."

"Hi," they chorused at the same time.

"And I'm Kevin," he added, shaking Bryant's hand.

Bryant smiled. "Great to meet you." He looked at Nick, "Nick? Are you ready to go?"

Nick glanced back from the PlayStation paddle. "Already?" Brian mumbled a quiet thank you under his breath.

"If you want to be back in time for the stuff you said you had to do tomorrow, yeah," Officer Bryant replied. "We've got a lot to do."

"Do you want me to come with?" Gopher quickly offered, putting his paddle aside as well.

Agent Bryant glanced at Kevin. "No." He replied slowly as Kevin's eyes turned stonelike at the thought. He smiled wanly at Gopher. "I don't think it'd be a good idea."

Nick jumped up and grabbed a red hooded sweatshirt he'd flung over the back of the chair. "OK. I'm ready."

The officer glanced him over. "You'll want sweat pants," he advised, "And a pair of sneakers. And probably a hat."

Nick looked down at his jeans and stocking feet. "Yeah probably." He hustled by the fellas and out into the hallway, presumably towards his own hotel room.

Bryant studied Gopher's face, and a strange feeling came over him, too, like Kevin had said. He nodded toward the door. "It was nice meeting ya'll, but I've really got to keep up with Nick."

"You sure do," Kevin answered, "And you'll be surprised how much effort that takes."

"Thanks for the heads up," he answered. He paused, "Kevin, would you show me which room is Nick's please?" he asked, making up an excuse to get Kevin in the hall to speak to him.

Kevin followed Bryant out of the hotel room and into the hall and closed the door behind them. Bryant looked at Kevin gravely. "Now this is gut instinct, but.. I had the same feeling you did from that guy. Steer clear of him as best you can, keep an eye on him. Anything fishy, immediately call me." He reached into his pocket and removed a small business card, pressing it into Kevin's hand.

Kevin looked at it. "Dunkin Donuts?"

"The other side is my cell number," Bryant answered.

Kevin nodded. "You cops really coffee addicts?" he asked. Bryant answered with a laugh.



When Nick emerged a few minutes later, Kevin had already returned to the hotel room where the other guys were. Bryant was leaning against the wall chatting with the security guards and looked up to see Nick step out in a pair of bright red track pants and an LA Lakers basketball jersey. The colors, of course, clashed ridiculously. "You're good at matching clothing, I see," Bryant murmured.

Nick looked down, not catchng the sarcasm, "Oh...yeah. Thanks."

Bryant didn't bother telling him he was being sarcastic. Instead he bade farewell to the security guards, and ushered Nick to the stairs. "We're going to take the stairs," the agent explained, "Because I've already battled the lobby, and it's going to be easier to take the employee entrance out the back into an alley way than it is to go through that. We've already got the OK from the desk, and they've moved a delivery truck in front of the kitchen door. If you go through there, the truck is going to deliver us two blocks away, where my car is waiting."

"Wow, you need to organize our escape routes more often," Nick commented. "You're good. Almost as good as the time they delivered us in a Fed Ex truck up in Toronto to a radio station..."

"I'm creative," Bryant replied flatly, "Ever ready to create a new and exciting way around the obvious." Nick nodded, unsure what he meant. "So, are you ready to begin training, Nick?"

Nick shrugged, "Yeah sure. Can't be too hard, right?"

"You'd be surprised," Bryant replied with a smile, "I know I was."

Nick looked up at him, "Are ya'll gonna work me to death?"

Bryant smiled as the two of them reached the base of the stairs and held the door opened for Nick, who neatly stepped through the door. "Well, I don't kow about to death. But at least really hard."

Nick sighed, "I'm already tired just thinking about it."

They slipped through the kitchen and onto the truck with no issues, and were delivered safely within ten minutes two blocks away from the hotel. Nick glanced back at the outpouring of fans that had gathered on the street to breathe after spending all day in the overpacked lobby before climbing into the car.

Agent Bryant quickly navigated his vehicle into traffic as Nick stared out the window. He watched as people trotted along the NYC streets, illuminated by neon flashing lights and shop front windows, all heading to their various destinations. A part of him felt remotely jealous of them all, wishing he were free to do whatever he wanted without worrying who was following him.

"Do you like your job?" Nick asked, suddenly turning.

"More than anything else," Bryant replied, he glanced over at Nick, "Do you like yours?"

Nick nodded. "Yes. Everything about it."

Bryant chuckled, "Even the crazy adoring fans?"

Nick laughed, smiling with a glimmer of affection in his eyes, "Especially the fans. It sounds crazy but I honestly adore them. More than they realize, too."

The agent nodded, "Well, that's good to hear. And sincere sounding, too. Most of you celebrities seem really two-faced."

"And most of you cops seem like assholes," Nick stated bluntly. He smirled, "Guess stereotypes ain't always right, huh?"

Officer Bryant laughed. "Guess not."

Nick smiled and turned back toward the window, contented to be making new friends on this little adventure at least. He'd already made friends with Gopher and Agent Bryant. Maybe this was the silver lining to the seriously dark storm cloud he'd become trapped under over the release weekend in New York.

"So, Nick," Officer Bryant's tone changed suddenly, and Nick turned to look at him. "Let's get this started now, while we're riding."

"OK."

"First of all, you've got to remember details. Everything they say. Detailed. Not patchy, not scrambled," he specified. "For instance, if they say 'Friday at 8pm at Simpson Pier', I don't want to hear from you anything like 'Friday evening at the docks'. I want exact detail."

"OK," Nick's brow furrowed.

"Next, you have to remember that you are not Nick Carter around these guys - You're Jack Taylor. You cannot respond when people call you Nick, no matter who it is - especially your fans."

"But the fans will ---"

"Be in danger if they approach you and stay around too long. You're to tell them that you are told you look just like Nick a lot and then dismiss them rapidly. Talking to them too long - as Nick or as Jack - will jeopardize you, them, and your bandmates." Bryant's voice was somber as he spoke. "Don't do that to the ones you love so much."

Nick swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. "OK."

"Now Nick," Bryant said slowly, "I gather from your nature that you are a sympathetic person. You're very personable, and you try to please people. You don't accuse them, and you take people at face value. If people tell you that they'll change, you believe them."

Nick blinked at the thorough analysis of himself. "How'd you--"

"The way you treated Stacey in the hallway at the hotel. The way you are best buddies with Gopher already. The way you're treating me when we just met --- and that was after I kidnapped you." Nick smiled sheepishly. "It's a great quality when you're a star, like you are, but --- well... You're going to have to deny that part of you, Nick. These guys are cold blooded killers. They are professional terrorists, and they have the worst intentions. It does not matter what they tell you - and they will tell you things. They do not change, they cannot, and they will not. They do not deserve your sympathy. If you show them sympathy, Nick, they'll take it from you with no problem, and only kill you two weeks later instead. They do not care about you."

Nick's eyes widened, "But --"

Bryant held up his hand to silence Nick. "This mission has to be successful," he continued, "Or else too many things will go very, very wrong." He paused, letting that sink in, and spoke slowly so that Nick absorbed every bit of what he said, "They'd figure out eventually who you are, and, being men of cruel nature, they would torture the hell out of you. One by one, they'd destroy every person you loved in as horrible a way as they could to pierce your heart with each and every blow." Nick's face scrunched in anticipated pain. "I'm sorry to lay so much on your shoulders, Nick, but you have to understand how imperitive this is... It's not a joke, or a game, or a chance to play cops and robbers. This is real life... and these are real evil people."

Nick let out a shaky breath. "OK."

Agent Bryant turned on his blinker and pulled into a dark, underground parking garage that Nick hadn't even noticed was there - despite having walked or rode by it several times this week. "Where are we?" he asked, looking around.

"This is the NYPD garage, they have a training court inside," Bryant replied, "They said I could use it tonight. C'mon."

Nick clamboured out of the car as Bryant got out. He followed the officer into the building above, carrying his sweatshirt. Bryant led him through a series of heavy doors requiring a keyed in ID number for entry, and a maze of deserted halls - all painted a pale, sickly, creamy green color. Finally, Bryant pushed opened a door and reached for the light switch inside, flipping it on. The room lit up, illuminating a gymnasium filled with complicated looking equipment. Nick's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow."

"You sound overwhelmed," Bryant commented with a laugh. "That can only mean one of two things - either you're jealous of the equipment, or you're intimidated by it."

"I don't usually work out much," Nick admitted.

Bryant laughed, and patted Nick's tummy. "You don't say?"

Nick's hand lingered on one of the machines, "Where do we start?"

"Eager?"

Nick shook his head, "No. I just don't wanna be late."

"For tomorrow's activities?" Bryant asked.

"No," Nick replied, "For saving the world."

A smile crossed Bryant's face. "Well then, come with me and I'll get you fitted in a vest... then we'll play."

Bryant led Nick to a small equipment room in the far back corner of the gym. Nick followed him with a bit of excitement. If he was honest, he'd been looking forward to the vest. He'd always wanted one since he'd seent he scene in Dumb&Dumber when Harry had one.

The equipment room was filled to the brim with all kinds of coop cop stuff. Nick looked around himself, overwhelmed by it all. He was pretty shre he'd had a few dreams very similar to this when he was eight years old. Bryant reached for a bullet proof vest that hung on a long run in front of Nick. "Try this on."

Nick eagerly took the jacket, shrugging it on. "It's comfy," Nick said, then paused. "But it's heavy."

"OK. It's probably too big anyways," Bryant reached for another. "They fit snug under your shirt." It took a bit, but they finally found one that fit him just right.

Nick was obviously quite pleased with the vest as he stood in a mirror looking at himself in it gleefully. "I feel awesome... and invincible. Like freakin' Superman!"

The officer laughed, "Well, c'mon back down, Clark Kent. We've got a lot of work still." Nick followed Bryant back to the gym floor as he pulled his shirt on over his head again, concealing the vest perfectly. Bryant led him to a bench press by the far wall. Nick stared at it. Bryant smiled. Nick raised his eyebrow. "Time for the fun part, Carter."



He wasn't ENTIRELY sure, but Nick was pretty positive that it was illegal - at least in the United States - to torture anyone this way. Sweat beaded upon his brow and he felt like his muscles were about on fire. He groaned in pain as he hoisted the barbell up the last three inches to rest it in the niches where it belonged. He sat up, gasping for air, and grabbed at the water bottle by his side.

Bryant was leaning against the wall, watching. "Are you ready to put weights on it now?"

Nick looked at the barbell, weight free indeed, and shook his head. "No dawg, I'm good with that." He laughed, "Ain't like I'm gonna be hoisting anyone heavy or anything."

Bryant smiled, "Or will you?"

Nick looked at the empty bar, "Heavier than that thing?"

Bryant smiled, "That thing only weighs ten pounds."

Nick looked at it suspiciously, "Ten pounds? Yeah right." Bryant only nodded to answer. Nick thought about it a moment. "How much were you thinking of me doing?"

"More than ten."

"Well I know that, but like -- how much?"

"One... two... maybe even three."

"Pounds?" Nick asked hopefully.

Bryant laughed, "Hundred, Nick." He smirked, "You always this crazy?" Nick felt like he was deflating, and let out a long breath of air as he laid back down on the bench and closed his eyes. "Oh c'mon kiddo, I know you can do it." Nick shook his head in response. Bryant very quietly began sliding weights onto the ends of the bar. "Oh please, Nick. You're no wimp."

"Yeah I am," Nick replied with resignation.

Bryant paused for a moment, then came up with the words he needed. "What if it was your friend, and he needed help?" his voice was coy. He quickly racked his brain for a name. "What if it was Brian?"

Nick's eyes popped open. "Brian?"

"Yeah." Bryant noticed Nick's jaw flex and he knew he'd found Nick's motivation -- saving his friends. "Yeah, say Brian's hurt and he's gonna be killed if you don't carry him out. He can't walk, but you can carry him..... Or can't you?"

"I can," Nick snapped defensively. "Of course I can."

Bryant shook his head, "I don't believe you. You can't even lift up a little bar, Nick."

Angry that Bryant would question his ability to save Brian -- of ALL people, his BEST friend! practically his BROTHER! -- he heaved every bit of his strength into lifting the bar from it's niche as the officer stood over him. He lowered the bar to his chest, then lifted it slowly and returned it to it's place.

An amused smile played on Bryant's face as Nick performed the heroic act. When the barbell clanged into it's holders and Nick's arms dropped down to his sides, his face a sheen of sweat, Bryant knelt to be eye level with Nick. "How much does Brian weigh, Nick?" he asked.

Nick turned his head to look at him. "One... forty-four..." he panted.

Bryant nodded, "You just lifted one and a half of him."

Nick closed his eyes. "I thought... that.. he might've.. put on some weight."

Bryant laughed, then waved for Nick to get up. "C'mon you lazy ass, let's keep moving. It's almost midnight already."

Nick sat up reluctantly, wiggling his arms to make sure they were still attached to his body. "That was CRAZY, dawg," he announced as he regained his breath, "What if I couldn't have held it up, though?" he asked, a concerned look crossing his face.

"Guess I would've needed a new undercover agent," Bryant replied, smirking.

Nick laughed, "Yeah, well.... This saving the world shit is tough work."

Bryant patted Nick on the back encouragingly. "Ready for the treadmill?"

Nick sighed and leaned back down onto the bench. "Can I walk?"

"Nope. I wanna see you run like you were running for your life."

Nick covered his face. "I can't run."

"Imagine you were running after someone who kidnapped Brian---" Bryant began, but Nick interrupted him.

"No, I mean I don't run."

"Never would've guessed," Bryant commented with subtle sarcasm. "C'mon, Carter."

Nick got up slowly an waddled to the treadmill. "I run like a girl. No, not even THAT good. I run like a chicken that got hit by a truck after being tested at Proctor & Gamble so I'm all dizzy and deranged and shit. No, I run like.... Spongebob Squarepants." Bryant ignored his babble and motioned for Nick to get on the treadmill. "And furthermore," Nick added as he climbed on board the machine, "I think you're trying to kill me."

"Not yet," Bryant replied, punching buttons on the treadmill, "But after this comes the more dangerous part."

Nick looked at him with questioning eyes. "Dangerous?"

"Ever shot a gun before?" Bryant asked.

Nick thought a moment. "I've shot a paint ball gun. Once."

"Once?"

"Yeah..." he paused. "I shot my foot. They wouldn't let me do it again after that."

Bryant stared at him silently nodding a bit. "That's too bad."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Nick answered as the treadmill came to life below him and he stepped onto the belt. "Girls can be so mean sometimes."

Bryant blinked in surprise. "You were playing girls and got disqualified... at paintball...after shooting yourself." Nick nodded. The agent sighed loudly. "Well, then. This... this should be interesting."



Nick sat on a wooden bench in what looked like a giant locker room a few moments later. Through a large window he could see the indoor shooting range. The far wall was covered with targets, all numbered. They looked like they were about a million miles away, and Nick wondered how far away you had to stand to shoot from.

"Impressed?" Bryant asked, shrugging on his bulletproof vest over his shirt. Nick nodded. "Well, I'm going to get us out some guns and we'll see what you can do with a firearms, all righty?" Nick nodded again. Bryant laughed, got up, and stepped into a locked office, where he opened a gun cabinet and signed out two NYPD issued .45's.

When Bryant returned, he handed Nick the smaller of the two guns and led the way onto the vacated range. Nick held it in the palm of his hand like it was a baby bird, staring at it. The officer looked his own gun over, held it up in firing position a couple times, and began polishing it, waiting for Nick to absorb the gun's presence. When he felt Nick had been given enough time, he asked, "Well? You gonna make love to it or shoot it?"

Nick looked at him, breaking the trance with the gun. "Shoot it, of course.. yeah."

Bryant reached over, motioning for what Nick had to do. "First...you gotta cock it." Nick couldn't help it. He giggled. "What's funny?" Bryant looked at him questioningly.

"Nothing," Nick's voice came out wobbly, and he covered his mouth. He bit his lips to keep another laugh from escaping.

Bryant looeked at Nick, a serious look on his face (which only made Nick laugh harder). "You cock the gun... like this --" he ignored Nick's giggles and pulled the top of the gun towards himself, listened as it loaded, and let it go. "There ya go."

Nick turned the gun over to look at it, paused, then did as Bryant had done. "Now what?"

Bryant nodded toward the wall. "Now we find out how dangerous arming you is." Nick looked at the targets. "Number seven. Hit seven."

Nick squinted across the room at it, his tongue sticking out just a wee bit, aimed, and fired. The gun jolted backwards with the backfire - a sensation he hadn't been expecting - and surprised him, making him yelp loudly. The bullet flew from the gun, and hit the target dead on.... the number three target, that is.

Bryant whistled. "Wow. Only four targets off..." he raised an eyebrow. "So...basically anyone within a city block of where you're actually aiming is in trouble. Good to know." Nick laughed. Bryant held up his own gun. "Now I'll hit seven." He aimed, pulled the trigger, and this time Nick was surprised by the sound that echoed throughout the room - a rumbling that he hadn't noticed the first time in his shock of the backfire feeling - and he yelped again. True to his word, Bryant's bullet pierced the seventh target's core.

Nick's eyes widened. "Remind me to never piss you off."

Bryant laughed, "I wouldn't suggest it. C'mon, let's work on your aiming skills."



With a couple hours' practice, Bryant had Nick aiming quite well, and he'd managed to stop him from yelping every time he felt the backfire sensation or heard a gun go off. Nick felt like a big shot as Bryant helped him learn to lock and unlock the trigger quickly and safely. Then he certified Nick as a licensed gun holder, and gave him a holster that held the gun close to his shin, which was concealed by his baggy pants.

As 6:00 AM rolled around, Nick and Bryant were sitting in the NYPD cafeteria, talking about the case over huge mugs of coffee. Officer Bryant smiled, "You've done a good job here tonight, Nick," he told him. "You might think of being an honorary member again somrtime." They leughed. "I've never had to train anyone that quickly before," Bryant confessed.

Nick laughed, "Well, you did a good job."

"To us," Bryant declared, holding up his coffee high. Nick imitated the action and they clinked the two cups together joyfully.

"To us," Nick agreed.

They upended their cups, and as he was sipping, Nick's eyes fluttered upon the time on his watch. He quickly brought the cup down with a bang to the table. "Oh God." He stood up, panic gripping him.

"What?" Bryant looked up.

"Are we all set?" Nick asked, "I gotta get to GMA."

Bryant looked at his watch and his eyes widened, too. "Shit. I told Kevin I'd have you there early."

"No way that's gonna happen now," Nick said, grabbing his sweatshirt from the back of the chair, "I'll be lucky if I get there at all. Oh man, Johnny's gonna kill me! Not to mention Kev."

"Maybe --" Bryant replied, thinking a moment. He smiled. "Or maybe not." He suddenly leaped to his feet. "Come on, Nick!" He set off running for the door.

Nick blinked, staring after him. "Where are we going?"

"To GMA --- on time!" Bryant called back, disappearing around the door frame and into the hall. "Keep up!"

Nick hesitated, cursed, then ran after Bryant, reluctantly. "Dawg," he muttered to himself, "This all night training shit seriously sucks a whole really lot."

Nick covered his eyes and cowered in the backseat of the stretch Hummer that belonged to The Boss as it lay idling in an empty parking lot by the docks. He struggled against the ropes that bound his hands behind his back and began to mentally tick off the mistakes he'd made throughout the day, leading to this monumentously impossibly bad situation...



Bryant rushed on ahead of Nick through the NYPD headquarters, as Nick galloped along behind, trying to keep up. Nick's gait was slow and lopsided, his legs weak after all the running he'd already done on the treadmill during the night. He was tired: he was sure he could sleep on a sea of tacks. Bryant rushed into the parking garage, clicking the remote entry for his cruiser, and climbed in as Nick skidded around the back end of the vehicle. They slammed their doors, and flung their seatbelts on. In the silence that followed as both men collected their breaths, Nick looked to the officer. "What're we doing?" he panted.

Bryant didn't reply. Instead, he put the car into gear, stomped on the gas pedal, and flipped the switch on his emergency lights. Nick suddeny was sure he knew what it was like to fly. Bryan turned on his siren and whipped out of the garage, barely slowing to enter the traffic of downtown New York during rush hour. Nick absently wondered if cops could get tickets for reckless driving: apparently not since he didn't look too nervous. He would've asked, but he didn't want a ticket for reckless talking, so he thought better of it.

The cruiser flew through downtown Manhattan, and Nick caught flashing glimpses of the scenery as they soared by it. He wasn't usually one for getting carsick, but this vehicle was all but airbound over every little pothole (and there was about a million of them!). Clearly, Officer Bryant had been a huge fan of the Dukes of Hazard, Nick decided, bracing himself against the door. When Bryant glanced over, he chuckled. "What's the matter, Nick?" he aked, "Don't ya'll drive like this out in LA?"

Nick, pale, shook his head. "Nuh-uh. And when they do, it's OK cos everyone's already too drunk to care."

Bryant smirked, "They cared about you, or so I read at Smoking Gun."

Nick narrowed his eyes at the officer, "Okay, 'nuff wise cracks outta you, mister." He'd tried to imitate Bryant's gruff Brooklyn accent and had failed miserably.

That only made the officer laugh all the harder. "Ya learn to drive like a nut after a while in this city. You have to or you'd never get out of your driveway in the morning. Now time for the real fancy footwork." He sped up. Nick closed his eyes and for the first time found value in Brian's advice to pray.

Finally, Bryan was forced to apply the brakes as a traffic light had turned red and cross traffic was moving. The car screeched as it came to a halt, several feet over the stop line, and Bryant slammed his hands against the wheel. "Dude, it's OK," Nick said, thankful that he was living still. "So what if I'm a few minutes late?"

"Late?" Bryant glared, "You're not gonna be late." Quickly, he snatched up his transmitter, flipping it on and hissed into his radio. "Police escort for a celebrity going to Times from HQ - over."

"Copy that - we got you covered," came the grainy response. Instantly every light as far as Nick could see clicked green.

"SWEET!" He exclaimed. He looked at the radio. "Dude, how much for one of those things??"

Moments later, the cruiser shrieked as Bryant cut the wheel and skid into Times Square outside of the GMA studios. On a large TV screen on the outside of the building, the newscasters were talking and big letters spelled out "BACKSTREET BOYS PERFORM.... NEXT!!!!!!!"

"We're almost there, and just in time by the looks," Bryant crowed as he drove off the street and onto a pavillion beside the studio, rushing past fans. Looming ahead of them was the giant outdoor stage.

Nick ducked down, "What're you thinking?! There's fans, they're gonna see me!"

Bryant laughed, "No you won't, Agent Carter. Trust me." He slammed on the gas, lurching Nick foward once more.

The car reeled around the side of the stage and came to a loud and abrupt halt behind it, practically spinning out and reversing direction from sheer velocity. Nick made a mental note to never, ever, ever whine about never getting to go on roller coasters again: he'd never need another one as long as he had Bryant as a friend. The fans around the stage stared and whispered among each other, glancing at the car. For the most part, though nobody really noticed. It was just another day in Times Square. Clearly, Bryant had done this a few times.

Nick watched as Bryant leaped from the cruiser, full of energy, and galloped to a back door of the studios, waving for Nick to follow. Nick climbed out of the car and wobbled after him, his knees felt like gelitan. He rubbed them and took a long shaky breath. When they reached the door, however, and Officer Bryant reached to open it, he found that it was locked. Nick raised an eyebrow. The officer quickly pulled his cell from his pocket, and smiled proudly. "Hey Kevin? I've got your bandmate out here, at Gate 11A."

"You're very efficient," Nick stated, looking at his watch as Bryant hung up. "I'm right on time. Very impressive."

"Don't try this at home, kids," Bryant quipped.

Nick laughed, "I wouldn't DREAM to, no worries there."

A few moments later, Kevin opened the door with a security guard and a geeky looking studio employee beside him. He looked relieved to say the least when he looked upon them. "Oh I'm glad ya'll decided to come," he joked, "We have like a MINUTE to get you wired up, Nick."

"He already is pretty wired," Bryant answered.

Kevin looked confused, "What?"

"He's hyper..." Bryant said.

Nick laughed, patting Bryant on the shoulder, "Wired for the MICROPHONE." He winked. "Looks like it's your turn to be trained now."



Relatively, Nick thought, it'd been a really good day, for the morning anyways. They'd done their appearances, released the new album, got positive feedback from all the fans and attended a release party at the record company's headquarters. The fans had been smiling and appreciative of everything, and it'd made Nick feel warm and fuzzy inside.

But now, Nick realized, he may never get to feel that way again. In fact, he though, looking around the inside of the Hummer, he may never get to feel ANYTHING again. If only he hadn't gone to get the damn french fries.......



Brian, Nick, AJ, Kevin, Howie and The Gopher - who'd insisted upon going along to the GMA taping - sat in the back of the limo as they headed back to the hotel. Nick was talking excitedly, and the guys were all half asleep. Nick was clearly overtired himself, and acting highly emotional most of the day, but the fellas had been forgiving of his overactive waterworks and harsh snapbacks. Gopher sat listening, and was probably the only one of the six of them that was really alert at all.

The limo sailed past a large sign for a McDonald's in downtown. Nick slammed his hands palm-down against the window. "FRIES! YES! Let's stop!"

Brian, snapped back to awareness by Nick's hand slamming, raised his eyebrows. "What're you crazy? We don't even have security in here with us anymore, Nick." Gopher leaned forward, intently listening.

"Ni but I want fries," Nick replied, pouting. "Dude, what could POSSIBLY go wrong? It's frickin' french fries."

Kevin shook his head. "No."

"C'mon! I want'em so bad," Nick pleaded.

"You didn't even care about them five seconds ago," Howie pointed out.

"You don't need them," Kevin's voice was stern.

"I've been working my ass off this week," Nick retorted, his voice angry, "Is it really so much to ask to stop for some fricking french fries?"

Kevin raised an eyebrow as Nick crossed his arms sullenly. "Wow, could we be a little more diva?"

"Dawg, don't even start with me," Nick growled, "I'm under a ton of pressure."

"So are WE," Kevin practically shouted. The others looked at each other with 'uhoh' faces on as the argument began to develop into a full on blow out.

Nick was steaming. "Not as much as ME."

"Are you kidding?" Kevin's face was an interesting shade of red now, "We've been looking after you, trying to keep you in line and protect you."

"You didn't even BELIEVE ME," Nick shouted, "And now I'm saving the WHOLE WORLD SINGLE HANDEDLY, and NOW you wanna act like you've been behind me all along, when all's I want is some freaking french fries from McDonalds!"

Kevin glowered. "You are NOT saving the damn world. You aren't even saving youself or anyone else. You wouldn't be able to Nick. I love you like a brother Nick, but you can't do this. You're barely capable of putting your socks on in the morning, much less saving the world."

Nick looked wounded a moment, as though Kevin had cut him deeply. He paused, then respornded, "I'm NOT a baby, Kevin."

The limo was silent a moment as everyone digested the outbursts that had proceeded the moment. The three Boys not involved and Gopher all exchanged uncomfortable glances. Finally, Kevin spoke. "Then stop acting like one."

Four heads snapped to see how Nick would react.

"Then stop treating me like one," Nick hurled back at him, "I'm NOT acting like a baby."

"You ARE Nick," Kevin said, exasperated, "You're throwing a shit fit over McDonald's. Now shut up."

Nick leaned back sullenly and crossed his arms over his chest, angry with Kevin. Kevin, too, leaned back and the discussion was then over. But everyone was too busy trying not to meet one another's eyes, unsure what to say to one another. Because of their diverted eyes, nobody noticed as Gopher pulled out his cell phone, and began to dial.


When they reached the hotel and stepped off the elevator on their floor, for the first time since Gopher had showed up the Boys split up into their own rooms, with the Gopher, naturally, following Nick. Kevin and Nick both slammed their doors behind them, angry with the other still, while the other three discreetly closed theirs, making sure the awkwardness stayed out in the hallway.

Gopher watched as Nick flung himself onto the nearest of the two full sized beds with a groan of anguish. Nick kicked his sneakers off and curled up into a ball by the headboard, sighing with agitation repeatedly, and punching the pillows as he mumbled angrily to himself. Gopher hung back a few moments, letting Nick blow some steam, and contemplating how to use this moment to his advantage. Finally, he'd formulated the plan as best he could, and he spoke up.

"Too bad the way Kevin treats you," he stated flatly, "I mean jeez, that guy's something else, right?" Nick ignored him, staring instead at the blinking digital numbers on the alarm clock. Gopher laughed, "Control issues much? He's GOT to be compensating for something -- if you know what I mean?"

Nick shook his head, "I'm not a baby. He acts like I'm a baby, like I'm a stupid kid."

Clearly Nick didn't get the irony of the words he was saying in comparison to the way he was acting.

Gopher paused a moment, letting those words settle, then said, "So prove him wrong, then."

"How, smart ass?" Nick snapped back, "I've been trying to show him I'm not thirteen anymore for like -- well, since I turned fourteen, I guess."

Gopher shrugged, "Show him you ain't gonna take his shit anymore, I mean he's not the boss of you. C'mon dude, you're like not even close to having to listen to that guy. You're old enough to make your own choices. Nobody can tell you that you can't go get a fry at McDonald's, Nick."

"Yeah, well..." Nick rubbed his knees and sighed, "I dunno."

"Nick, you can't prove Kevin wrong if you lay there sulking all night," Gopher pointed out. "You should go."

"Go?" Nick perked up, interested.

Gopher nodded, "Yeah, man. Go... Go get the fries, and come back here and rub them all in Kevin's bossy, anal face."

Nick's eyes lit up, "Ya think so? Really?"

"Most definitely," Gopher responded, "Well maybe not literally rub them in his face, that would be nasty, and you wouldn't be able to eat them." He smiled, "There's a McDonalds like right across the street and over two blocks. I saw it when we were riding... after the big blow out."

Nick hesitated a moment, "You really think he'd get the message?"

"He'll see you don't have to listen to him anymore," Gopher replied, smirking, "And I think that's the message, isn't it? Plus... you get the fries."

Nick looked at the window, a million pictures of his more rebellious moments playing in his mind. He gnawed on his lower lip and thought about the magnitude of the action, in the long run anyway. Kevin maybe would listen to him more. Maybe they'd finaly release a REAL rock album out of the deal. Maybe... Maybe.... Nick looked at Gohpher. "Two blocks and acoss the street, you said?"



After Nick left, Gopher waited until he received the confirmation text message, and then he stood up, and walked into the hallway of the hotel. Calmly, he walked up to the Kevin's room door and took a deep breath before throwing himself against it, and banging frantically, shouting for Kevin to open up. It only took a few seconds before Kevin whipped the door opened to face a panting, worried looking Gopher. "What's the matter?" Kevin asked, his eyes widening as he opened the door further.

"It's Nick," Gopher gasped, "He's gone!"

If Nick had been honest with himself, he would've turned back the moment his feet hit the pavement outside of the hotel building. His sneakers had felt as heavy as anvils and his stomach kept telling him - in a loud pinched voice - to turn around and go back. He didn't realize that this feeling is called FOREBODING, and usually means that something bad's about to happen. He figured it was because he was being rebellious. He glanced back at the hotel, feeling guilty, and wondered if Kevin realized he was gone yet. Of course not, he realized - nobody but Gopher knew he had even left, and it had only been a few minutes. In fact, he realized, nobody at all would probably miss him anyway, even if he didn't rush. The only way any of them would know he'd even left was if he told them. So much for teaching Kevin a lesson.

He'd almost turned back then, upon that realization, but since he was already on the crosswalk he figured he might as well get his french fries first, then go back. At least if he got the fries first he had something to munch on while he sat in his hotel room, wondering if anyone cared he'd been missing for several minutes.

As he stepped into the door, he felt a hand wrap around his elbow, pulling him back. He looked down. There was no mistaking those claws. He closed his eyes, taking a deep preparatory breath, then turned to look at Isa. "Isa," he said, his voice smooth as butter.

Normally Isa would've melted at this, he knew, but her eyes were stone cold as she glared into his and only seemed surprised for but a moment upon realization of who it was before her. "Nick?" she asked, her eyebrows puckering, "What are you doing here?"

Nick glanced at the inside of McDonald's. Wasn't it obvious? "Getting french fries," he responded after a hefty pause. "You?"

Isa looked at her cell phone absently. "Oh... Um. Same thing."

Nick nodded cautiously, "Well. Okay then, I'll see ya?"

"I'm here on a date, actually," Isa interjected suddenly.

He wasn't entirely sure why she had told him that. "Yeah? That's cool," he answered. "Anyone I know?"

Isa laughed, that obnoxious horsey laugh, and nodded, "I think you may have met."

At that moment, Nick became aware of a second person in their cluster, but before he could turn to see who it was, he felt heavy, bulging hands grab onto his upper arms from behind. "Hey there, Jack Taylor," Fat Freddy's voice grunted into Nick's ear. Nick froze. "Wanna go for a little ride?"

"Isa --" Nick started, but before he could tell her to run, Fat Freddy quickly lifted Nick up with one arm wrapped around Nick's torso and carried him quickly down the alley way beside the McDonald's. Freddy clapped a hand over Nick's mouth. Nick kicked his legs, squirming against Freddy, but of course he was no match for the gangster who was three to four times his size. A million things went through Nick's head: the fact that nobody except Gopher knew he'd left, that Gopher didn't know how long he was going to take. Would anyone notice he was missing? Would Gopher finally tell Kevin or someone? Would they be able to find him? He struggled helplessly. What about Isa, he suddenly wondered, pushing his body away from Freddy, trying to at least see where Isa was, to see if she got away or if another of the henchmen had been right there to grab her, too. But to his surprise, he found Isa following Freddy closely, a smile on her face.

"What'sa matter, baby?" she asked in a cold, teasing voice, "Didn't expect us to be here?" She stuck out her lower lip, pouting at him mockingly. Isa laughed, "Or maybe you didn't expect me to be the one that would be here?" Her eyes glistened. "Didn't you know what my Daddy does for work, Nick?"

Nick struggled against Freddy, "Isa, c'mon, you can't do this, you know me..." he paused, realizing he had one card to play. "Isa.. When I saw you at the pizza place the other day, I was so glad to see you again, I couldn't believe it was really you and ---"

"Save it," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Look, Nick, personally -- I wouldn't hold this shit against you. But -- ya know, my Dad he's... Well, he's not as forgiving as I am. And he doesn't really take too fondly to my boyfriends anyway. Especially ones who dumped me, stood me up, and left me crying, waiting for you to show up...." Isa shook her head. "Man, Nick, to me it sounds kind of like your goose is cooked."

"How did you know where I was?" he asked, whimpering almost now.

Isa laughed, opening the door to the large stretch Hummer that belonged to the Boss. Nick had seen it the other night at the docks. He felt his entire blood stream run cold a moment, his stomach turning, and his hands go clammy as Fat Freddy pushed him closer to the door. Just as Freddy pushed Nick into the Hummer, Isa said, "Let me put it this way, Nick.... a little bird told me."

-----

Agent Bryant sat in his office, pouring over several documents concerning the Wednesday Bombing at the Embassy. He played with a Slinky while he read the notes, sighing every now and then. On the wall behind him, the clock ticked monotonously. He paused, dropping the toy to the desk, and bent his head to one side, listening. He could hear nothing. Yet something suddenly very much was bothering him. He grabbed his Rolodex and quickly flipped through the cards, pulling out Nick's name, he lifted his phone and dialed the number.

No answer. The phone clicked, then went to voice mail. Bryant furrowed his brow. Well... maybe he was doing promotion or something.

But the funny feeling in Agent Bryant's mind didn't go away, even after he'd lifted the Slinky and resumed reading.

-----

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Nick froze, looking down toward his pocket. He'd been tied, his arms behind his back and his ankles bound before him. There was no way he was gonna reach that phone... Maybe Kevin had noticed, maybe somebody had, anyway! A surge of hope - however slim - rose up in his stomach. Isa reached down from her seat and across him, sticking her hand into his pocket to grab the phone out of it. "Don't get excited, pervert," she snapped, "I'm just getting your phone." She pulled the phone out and looked at it. "New York City Police Department?" she raised an eyebrow. "We have friends on the force now, do we?"

Nick shook his head, "He's just a friend."

"And I'm sure you've told him everything about what - and who - you've seen, haven't you?" she asked.

"No," Nick said too quickly.

Isa laughed. "Well, it's okay. You won't need this anyways." She unrolled the window and tossed the phone out into the pavement as the Hummer drove down the highway.

------

Kevin had sprung into action - his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He shoved passed Gopher into the hallway and quickly moved into the gaping doorway that was Nick's hotel room. Brian and Howie emerged from their rooms as well upon hearing the commotion in the hallway. They looked around, confused. Brian's eyes were wide open, like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler. Gopher stood calmly behind them, watching the scene unfold. Kevin came back out into the hallway, his eyes flashing with nerves, having confirmed that Nick was gone.

"What happ--" Brian started to ask, but Kevin held his hand up, cutting him off.

"Get AJ," Kevin commanded in a low, solid tone. Brian instantly jumped into action, hurrying down the hall to AJ's hotel room door, knocking like a maniac and calling his band mate's name. "And you, Howie, call the NYPD, talk to Bryant and tell him what's going on. Use my cell phone, the number's stored."

Gopher shook his head negatively even as Howie rushed off to get Kevin's phone. "Don't involve the police," Gopher said. "You don't know what they might do to him."

Kevin glared at Gopher, "What's it to you if I'm calling a friend?"

Howie galloped into the room and looked about in a panic until he spotted the phone on the counter of the kitchen. He snatched it up and rushed back into the hall. "What am I telling him?" Howie cried, frantic. Kevin looked at Gopher for the answer.

"He was kidnapped," Gopher said smoothly.

"Kidnapped?!" Brian yelped just as AJ's door opened.

AJ was dressed in just a pair of sweat pants, his tattoos showing, and a pair of iPod headphones around his neck. "What? Who was kidnapped?" he asked.

"Nick," Kevin answered.

"Oh shit! No!" AJ's eyes widened to match Brian's.

Gopher sighed as Howie dialed the NYPD's number. "Oh don't you guys get it yet?" he asked. He reached out and grabbed Howie's arm, making him drop the cell phone. It clattered to the floor, but stayed flipped open as it landed a few feet away at the base of one of the walls. "It's NOT just Nick that's kidnapped, it's ALL of you." He withdrew a gun from his pants' waist band and pulled Howie closer to him, and positioned the gun to aim at Howie. Howie gulped. "Now... Do we have ANY arguments whatsoever, or does this gotta get messy?"

Brian, AJ and Kevin all raised their hands in surrender.

-----

Agent Bryant grabbed the phone on the third ring, having thrown the Slinky down into a desk drawer, certain that it was Nick returning his call. "Bryant's desk??" No response. "Hello???" He scowled... prank callers. Then he heard something...faintly. He pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"ANY arguments whatsoever, or does this gotta get messy?" the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Please don't hurt him!" Brian's voice. Panic spread through Officer Bryant. This was not good.

"Gopher," Kevin's voice was stronger than Brian's had sounded, clearly he was trying to command authority over the situation. "C'mon man, this is crazy, let's just sit down and talk calmly..."

"Don't MOVE!" Gopher - the first voice he'd heard - shouted. "Don't even THINK about moving or I swear I'll shoot this Hispanic pain in my ass right now." Someone there let out a whimper.

Bryant waved another officer into his office and scribbled a note.
TRACE LOCATION OF THIS CALL I'M ON... NOW.
The officer scurried away to get the equipment.

"Now. We're going to go on a little field trip. First, we're going down to the docks to visit Nick. Then, once he is disposed of, we're gonna go watch the Embassy become a firework display. Sound good to you?" Gopher laughed.

Bryant quickly scribbled down this piece of information. It was soon -- TOO soon! They'd changed their plans for the bombing, and they had Nick. Bryant punched the table, frustrated. The officer with the tracking equipment returned to the office and began hooking up the line. Bryant grabbed another piece of paper and scribbled furiously:
SENT TROOPS TO EMBASSY.
KEEP SMALL BACK UP RESERVED FOR ME IN UNMARKED CARS AT FOLTON'S. NOW.
He shoved the note to the officer, who nodded and bolted away with the message.

-----

Gopher motioned with his gun to the stairs. "Nothing funny, at all. I still have Howard here, remember. Act. Natural."

"Yeah, like that's possible," AJ scoffed.

"Would you rather act dead?" Gopher intoned, "It can be arranged." AJ looked away and stayed quiet. "OK then. That's better. Let's go." Gopher began shepherding the Boys out the door and down the stairs like a flock of stupid sheep. They stumbled about as they walked, not making any chattering sound, as they normally would, but Gopher apparently didn't mind this lack of natuality.

Kevin closed his eyes, more afraid that he'd ever been before. He felt a guilty, like he'd caused all this to happen. He'd been the one to decide to bring Gopher back to the hotel with them, and he was the reason the Boys had been in separate rooms to begin with -- if only he'd let Nick get those damn french fries. Kevin felt sick inside and he realized with a pang that he'd been too hard on Nick on several occassions during the past couple of days and over the years. He shuffled along behind Brian and AJ, feeling like they were on a chain gang together, and promised himself that if he and Nick both lived through this he'd go easier on him in the future.

The Boys filed through the kitchen of the hotel, Gopher uncomfortably close to his back for Howie to feel comfortable or act too naturally. The wait staff smiled, too distracted by their own jobs to notice anything funny going on with the Boys. Suddenly a large, boisterous chef stepped in front of them when they'd nearly made it to the door.

"Why hello! My favorite room service customers!" he bellowed, clapping his hand on Brian's back. Brian looked ready to throw up on the contact, his nerves built up far too much for it. "How was the steaks last night?"

The Boys were quiet a moment too long, and Gopher pushed his gun a bit further into Howie's back. "Great!" Howie cried with a jump, "Amazing, even! Thank you!" Kevin nodded agreement, though the other two only stared stonily at the closed door to the back alley. Who knew what awaited them?

"Where's Nick this night?" the chef continued, not picking up on the uncomfortable air that hung between them all.

Kevin shrugged, "We're going to go catch up to him. He's doing promo."

AJ piped up, "The other side of the Brooklyn bridge, right Kev?"

Kevin nodded, "Yes."

The chef chuckled, "Ah in Brooklyn, 'eh? Always a charm down that way. Hope you Boys got your body guards! Stay safe!" With that, he turned and resumed his cooking. Gopher gave Howie a good push, and they continued to the door, stepping into the alley to find a large white van waiting for them.

For the briefest of moments, AJ imagined opening the van's double doors in the back and finding Officer Bryant and like fifteen of his strongest SWAT team members, just waiting, with Nick in tow, to save them from this psychotic mobster. But when the doors swung open it wasn't so. Inside was a burly man with facial hair that resembled Howie a bit. "I am the Goose," the man greeted them with a wicked smile. AJ felt the color drain from his face. The Goose laughed, a sound that Brian was sure had to be a byproduct of Hell. "I see you've heard of me." And with that, the Goose and Gopher hoisted the Boys one by one into the van, and slammed the doors behind them.

The four Boys sat huddled together in the back of the van; Brian hugging his knees to his chest, as Kevin leaned forward in a protective stance, while Howie and AJ leaned against each other with widened eyes. They were all terrified as the two mobsters dealt a hand of poker and the van sped down the darkening streets of New York to the piers beyond the Brooklyn bridge. Of the four, Kevin was the most defiant. "When this is all over," he snarled, "You're going to spend the rest of your pathetic lives rotting in jail."

The Goose laughed, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket's breast pocket. "And you thought I'm not supposed to be anyway?" he scoffed, "Where do you think I'm supposed to be right now?" he smiled leeringly at Kevin and lit the cigarette. Taking a long drag, the Goose closed his eyes and let the smoke trail out of his nostrils. "Yeah, I've been sent to jail a good three or four times, but they just can't seem to keep me in there... Guess I'm the new Houdini, 'ey?" Goose winked at Kevin. "Good thing you won't have to think about that in the future, huh? I could see where that could be unnerving for you, wondering where I am all the time, if I'm still behind bars or if I've escaped and I'm out after you somewhere..."

Kevin shrank back as the intent behind the words sank in. Even if Officer Bryant found them by some miracle... even if they all got out of this alive... the Goose would be back, if nobody else was. Nothing was going to stop this guy. Clearly he had a deep dislike for them, for whatever reason - if he himself even knew. Kevin looked at the other three guys -- Brian's pale face struck him as a perfect picture of what he felt inside. The three guys were cowering away from Goose with fearful faces. Kevin frowned. His parental nature kicked in suddenly. It was the part of him that commanded the other four around in situations, the side that Nick ebbed into when he whined and made Kevin come out being harsh and snapping at him. It was the side that made the fellas referr to him as Daddy Backstreet and that they went to looking for help - the part that made him the leader. He didn't like these guys - his brothers, his children, practically - being mistreated. He wondered where Nick was - if he was OK, or if he was even alive.

"Where's Nick?" Kevin asked bravely.

Goose laughed, "How should I know? Could be in the Hudson by now; hope he can swim."

"He can dive," AJ snapped.

Kevin gave AJ the Look (also from that parental side), telling him to be quiet. But Kevin didn't have to. The Gopher promptly leaned across and smacked AJ across the face with an intense velocity, leaving a searing red mark on AJ's cheek. Kevin felt his blood boil as AJ reached to cover the spot, and Goose snarled at him. "DON'T MOVE."

"Oh shut up," Gopher growled at AJ, "Nobody can take on the Hudson bound hand and foot - nobody. The current's too strong."

"But--" AJ looked hurt and shocked, his cheek blazing red, "You said you---"

Gopher laughed loudly, cutting AJ off. AJ shut his mouth quickly. "If you haven't figured it out yet, Mr. McLean, I said a LOT of things that just aren't true."

-----

Agent Bryant arrived at the hotel maybe five minutes after the Boys has been shepherded out the kitchen door by the Gopher. He'd even unknowingly passed the van as he drove like a speed demon from headquarters to the hotel, lights flashing with clearance through intersections. He'd thought of Nick when he'd radioed the call in because of the way he'd been so excited by that perk of Bryant's job during their drive to GMA. It made Bryant press the pedal all the harder, knowing he had to catch up to the Boys and figure out where Nick was. So much depended on that goal.

He swung the car onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel with ease, causing several pedestrians to duck out of the way, and leaped from his car, displaying his detective's badge to the doorman as he entered the hotel. "Federal Agent Bryant," he stated as he breezed past the guy, "Leave the car there."

The lobby of the hotel was still filled with girls. They looked up as the officer brushed past them with authority. The crowd had considerably cut back, no doubt most of them had gone home after the album release events were ended, but there were enough girls there to tell Bryant that clearly the Boys had not been seen leaving the hotel. That left only the back exit. As he walked past the front desk, the attendant ran after him in a panic. "Sir -- sir, you can't go in there... Sir..." The employee followed him down the hall to the utilities area and into the kitchen.

"Has anyone here seen the Backstreet Boys?" he commanded, his voice booming in the kitchen.

The front desk receptionist plowed into the kitchen right behind him. "Sir I need to ask you to leave, you're not supposed to be back here, this is private hotel property..."

Bryant whirled to face her, "God dammit, woman. I am with the FBI." He held up his badge in front of her eyes, "Call the damn headquarters and tell them Agent Bryant just broke into your fucking kitchen and see what they say why don't you?" The receptionist nodded, surprised by the venom in his tone. "Now--" he turned back to the waitstaff. "Who's seen the Backstreet Boys out here today? Anyone?"

Various waiters nodded absently. The chef wiped his hands on his food-stained apron. "I saw them no more then five minutes ago," the chef offered, "They said they was doing promotion down Brooklyn direction. They took off in a white van."

Bryant nodded, "Any thing seem strange about them when you saw them?"

"Not really," the chef replied, thinking, "They seemed a bit stoic, but that might've been because Nick wasn't with them. Said they was meeting him there. They had some funny lookin' bloke with them, though..." the chef thought back on the scene. That must be the Gopher, the officer thought.

Bryant turned and pushed past the receptionist, returning to his car. He looked in the rearview mirror at the array of equipment on the backseat. "Time to but this stuff to use," he murmured, turning the vehicle on and merging into traffic bound to the Brooklyn bridge.

-----

The inside of the Hummer was dark, the windows tinted. Outside, the light was failing, and what little he could see through the windows were fading to dark, hazy shadows that looked like ghostly images. He could tell they were parked, and vaguely made out that it was a lot, probably near a docking bay, where large wood crates surrounded the vehicle. Nick lay with his wrists getting chafed from the rope and pressing his forehead against the window, looking out at the world. He wondered how he went from being on top of the world that morning to being tied up in a stretch Hummer less than twenty-four hours later. Was it even twelve hours ago they had been on GMA? he wondered. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in the Hummer, though, and had completely lost sense of time.

Nick had always been a happy-go-lucky guy, he'd never really thought about life as something that could end. As far as he was concerned, he was invincible. But for the first time this week he'd been thrown into a situation much bigger than himself and had been faced with the concept. Sitting in the darkness of the Hummer, he began to think about everything. He thought about his friends and his family, his career and the things he didn't get to do yet: sky-diving (if only he had the guts!), traveling somewhere he'd never been before, learning martial arts or how to cook a grilled cheese sandwich for that matter. He imagined a girl who he hadn't yet met, and children that hadn't been born, and sighed. His eyelashes rubbed against the window as he blinked, and he found himself noticing the sensation and imagining that he was ultra-sensitive to motion and feelings, imagined himself as Superman.

"Yeah right," he scoffed, remembering himself exclaiming excitedly that he felt like Superman to Bryant the night before. He hung his head to look at the rope that bound his hands and ankles. "I'm more like Stupidman," he mumbled, "Who was I kidding? I can't save the world. I can't even save myself." He closed his eyes and focused all of his energy on breathing.

Suddenly the door to the Hummer swung open. Nick looked up to see a large redhaired man lean into the car and leer at Nick mockingly. "Did'ja hear about the going away present we got you?" he asked, laughing into Nick's aguished face.

"What?" Nick asked, pulling his face away from the man. As he did, he noticed a van pulling up on the opposite side of the lot.

"There they are now," Red snickered. "Watch and see. I think you ought to like this one." He pulled back, slamming and locking the door behind him, and Nick watched out the window as Red approached the van. A tall, skinny man got out of the driver's side door, and he and Red laughed a moment before going to the back of the van and opening wide the double doors.

The first out was The Goose. Nick shuddered. That guy gave him the creeps every time he even thought of him. He thought for sure that the Goose was going to come torture him and he cowered down a bit in fear. But Goose didn't start his way once he'd jumped down from the van, instead, he turned and withdrew a .45 from a holster around his waist, motioning for someone to follow him. Nick's heart just about stopped as he watched Kevin hop down from the back of the van, his arms tied the same as Nick's. Kevin's head was held high, despite the binding, and he stood beside the van, allowing AJ to lean on him to hop down. AJ, too, was bound, and he was followed by a bound Howie, and then, to Nick's ultimate horror, even Brian hopped down to the pavement of the lot. Nick lurched toward the window as best he could, banging his forehead against it. "Brian! AJ! Kevin!! Howieeeee!" he yelled, bouncing his bottom and rocking as best he could, going crazy, wanting to save his friends.

-----

"See that Hummer over there?" the Goose motioned with his gun towards the car.

The four Boys looked. Brian squinted, something was inside of it... moving, banging against the window. His heart skipped a beat. "Nick!" he cried, "Nick's in the Hummer! Look he's in the window!!" Kevin's head turned to the window, and he, too, saw Nick. A flood of relief went over him as he realized that not only was Nick alive but he was right there. If he could just figure out a way to get to Nick, he knew that the five of them could come up with a plan of escape somehow.

"Yes, Nick certainly is in there," Goose laughed evilly, "When the Boss gets here in a few minutes, though, we thought we'd play a litte game. We want to find out if the Hummers really are an all-terrain vehicle like they claim to be." He looked towards the river. "Think it could float?"

Kevin followed Goose's eyes to the Hudson and looked at the Hummer. "Why on earth would you do that?" he asked, "Nick never did anything to you," he snarled, "He never did a single thing to you or any of your little minions, why are you doing this to him?"

"Neither did the Hummer," Goose pointed out. "See it's like this -- the insurance on the Hummer is worth quite a bit. So if it's stolen and destroyed it's covered. The Boss needs the money." He raised his eyebrows at the guys, "And something's telling me that Nick's got quite a bit of insurance, too. As do the rest of you. See, this was a pretty fancy set-up we had, even for Jack Taylor, but seeing as Nick was caught up in our little game... Well, that was beyond priceless."

Gopher smiled, "We saw on his insurance forms at the bank that he is worth a half a million in insurance."

"And why do you think that matters to you?" Kevin snapped, glaring at the henchmen, "The money doesn't go to you."

Gopher laughed, "We're not that stupid not to think of that. However it does go to the beneficiary." He looked at Brian. "Something tells me, Brian, that you'd be willing to give us that money to keep these other three guys alive, wouldn't you?" Brian swallowed hard, casting his eyes from the Hummer to the pavement below his feet. "That's what I thought. So... all that's left to do now is wait for the Boss and file the claims." He smiled menacingly.

Just then a black Lexus rounded the edge of the lot enterance and pulled to a stop beside the van. The Goose smiled, "Speak of the devil, here's the Boss now."

-----

Agent Bryant parked his car on the opposite side of the river and struggled with the equipment, carrying it down the slope to the sandy knoll below. He glanced at the book one last time and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the mission at hand. The element of surprise was everything - it was the only way that he could possibly succeed. Failure could spell fatal consequences for everyone involved. But this, he decided, was the only way. So he pulled on the wet suit and waded into the water.

-----

The Boss was a large Italian or Spanish man, which Brian couldn't tell. He looked a bit like John Travolta if he gained about fourteen pant sizes. The Boss wore the cliched pin striped suit, fedora hat, shiny Italian leather shoes, and enough gold jewelry to capsize a fairly large pirate's ship. He waddled - because that's the only word that could be used for what he did - over to the Boys and stood there a moment, looking them over, leaning on a thick gold plated cane.

"Boss, these are the other four Boys. Nick's in the Hummer," Goose supplied.

The Boss turned to look at the Hummer. "I wish to speak to him before we dispose of him."

"Yes sir," Goose jumped into action, handing his gun to Red and snatching the keys from him. "I'll take you over right now, sir."

Brian felt a knot rise up in his throat. "Don't kill him!" he yelled suddenly, his voice desperate and panicked. "Please, don't kill him! He's my best friend, he's practically my brother, you can't do this. Please.. I'll... I'll pay you. Anything, any amount. Just don't do this, please."

The Boss wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Touching."

Brian's emotions turned him inside out and he dropped to his knees, holding his stomach, trying to make the ache inside of it stop. "Get up!" Red yelled. Brian remained on the ground, breathing heavily with soaked gasps that wrenched from deep inside him somewhere. Red kicked Brian's hip, "GET UP."

Kevin leaned down, "Couz, you gotta get up. It's only making things worse to break down like this, it's going to be okay. I don't know how but we're going to make it be okay. Don't give up yet. Pray, Brian." Brian looked up at Kevin and nodded, struggling to his feet even as Red kicked him yet again. Kevin stood up as well.

"Ah a voice of reason," The Boss chuckled.

"Daddy." The Boss turned and smiled as his daughter, Isa, stepped up beside him, hanging her arms around his arm. She rested her head against his shoulder.

Brian's eyes widened, as did the other three Boys'. "What the hell?" AJ yelped, "What the hell is happening? Why the hell are you here?"

Isa smiled, "Didn't you know who my Daddy was?"

Brian glared, suddenly uncontollably angry. "You bitch. This is all because he broke up with you? How could you - I mean why would you - How could you --"

Isa laughed, "No Brian, it's not because he broke up with me, silly, it's just a really odd coincidence. Didn't you think it was funny that the mob's meeting place was directly across from where I work?" Brian hadn't realized it. But he remembered now that Nick had said he'd been at the vendor across the street from the pizza place when Brian had gone in to order the pizza because Isa was there. She'd been a part of the rondevous that was planned that day that Nick had inadvertantly become a part of, all while trying to avoid her. "It does, however, make the deed all the sweeter, doesn't it, Daddy?" The Boss smiled at his daughter.

"Now," the Boss said, "Let's go tell Nick farewell shall we?" he turned, then paused and looked at the Boys again as Goose rushed ahead to the Hummer. "Such a shame you all can't say goodbye to him as well. Oh well. I'll make sure he waves to you from the window."

-----

When the Hummer door opened again, Nick was expecting it. He'd watched Isa assist the Boss across the lot and heard Goose unlocking the door with the keys long before the Boss had actually arrived to the door. He'd seen the Boys ushered onto the pier by Gopher and Red, and watched as they were kept there. Brian's pleading eyes had been glued to the window and Nick had wished his hands weren't bound, he would've waved to Brian. So there before him stood the Goose, Isa and the Boss.

"So here's what we're gonna do for you today," the Boss said, leaning against the cane. "We're gonna end this whole thing right here. If you can get out of this Hummer, we're gonna let you go."

Nick looked at the door. It had an ordinary handle. There must be a catch. Nick looked at the Boss. "Let me go?" he asked, not daring to believe the words.

"But there's a challenge, see, it's part of the game." the Boss continued, "We're gonna push the Hummer - with you in it - into the river, and see what happens. If you get out, we're gonna let'cha go. But.. you won't get out."

Amazingly, Nick felt less afraid than he thought he would've given the situation. He glanced at the dock and imagined the Hummer careening wildly over it and into the Hudson, like seeing it in a movie or something. He hoped it wouldn't hurt. Then he saw the fellas standing there and his heart clenched. "What about my friends?" Nick asked.

"We're gonna keep them alive," Boss answered. "For now."

Nick looked at him, "Why?"

The Boss chuckled, "You're an inquisitive little thing aren't you?" he asked. Isa and Goose laughed at this, too, and Nick felt his cheeks burn hot. "If you must know," the Boss answered after he'd had his laugh, "I need Brian because he is the beneficiary on your life insurance policy, which is worth over a half a million dollars for your vocal chords alone." Nick nodded slowly, reluctantly. "See, the deal I cut with Brian is that they get to live as long as he promises to pay me. Thing is that we need a scapegoat for the bombing tonight at the Embassy. This is where they come in. Brian's gonna pay us your insurance money, and we're going to use the one with the stiff upper lip as our scapegoat. He'll go to jail, but he'll be alive, therefore keeping up our end of the bargin." Nick looked out at Kevin. Very few people, if anybody at all, would ever believe that tree-hugging Kevin had blown up the Embassy building.

Suddenly Agent Bryant's words played in Nick's mind. "First of all, you've got to remember details. Everything they say. Detailed." They echoed, and Nick realized that if he were to live through this somehow he would have to give an account of everything that the Boss had told him... and that this information could very well save his friends. And every detail would help.

"You're bombing the Embassy tonight?" Nick asked, furrowing his eyebrows. In his mind, he repeated the facts he so far knew: Brian. Beneficiary. Kevin. Scapegoat. Embassy bombing. Tonight.

The Boss eyed him, but the Goose laughed. "Hell yeah we're gonna bomb it tonight! At midnight. It's going to be a grand show, too, at that. We made our own bombs - really sophisticated things, thanks to our little science major here." He kissed the side of Isa's face, loud and sloppy.

"Quiet." The Boss snapped his cane against the frame of the door, silencing Goose abruptly.

Midnight. Homemade bomb. Isa's doing.

"What're you gonna do with Howie, AJ and Brian after you get the money?" Nick asked.

The Boss smiled, "Well they'll just know far too much to keep around. Unless they want to pledge loyalty to me..." he let his voice trail off and Nick looked away, focusing on the ties that bound his wrists together. "So now, for your final thought to embark upon the afterlife with is this... One by one, I will take out every one of the people you love. Enjoy sleeping with the fishes." The Boss leaned back out of the Hummer.

Isa looked at Nick, "Too bad you broke my heart, Nick, or I could talk him out of doing this." She, too, turned away and Nick closed his eyes as Goose slammed the door, laughing that horrible laugh the entire time, and locking the door. Nick leaned back against the wall of the Hummer and breathed deeply.

-----

Gopher pulled the wood blocks securing the Hummer in place and the wheels began to slightly turn as the vehicle inched forward slowly. Red leaned against the back bumper, leaning his weight against the car. Nick could feel it moving. The unstable feeling made him brace himself between the two walls, extending his legs as far as they would go and closing his eyes. On the pier, the Boys watched as the car began to roll forward, the wheels spinning faster and faster as it approached. Red landed on his stomach on the pavement. Brian closed his eyes, unable to watch.

Nick had once thought the ultimate spine-tingling view was a football stadium packed to capacity because his name was on the marquee outside. He'd once imagined that the most chilling roar he'd ever heard was that of the fans chanting for an encore - BACK! STREET! BOYS! BACK! STREET! BOYS! He had once believed that flying felt the same way as it did in a plane or like it had felt when the Boys had 'flown' over the audience, suspended by cables, during the Into the Millennium tour. He'd thought that he'd never see, hear or feel anything that could top those phenomenons. He was wrong. And he discovered that very quickly as the Hummer rolled, became airbound off the end of the high pier, and he looked through the windshield to see the Hudson River's currents below him. He felt weightless as the vehicle careened, topping and flipping over as it fell, and the water hit the car with a deafening rush, and the Hummer began to sink, filling from the engine, the water rushing in from the floor by the driver's seat and the passenger seat, eeking through the cracks at the doors and even leaking just a bit in the seams of the windows. It felt a bit like outer space, looking out the window and seeing water - dark, green, murky water which he couldn't see through. He had to find a way to get untied.

Desperately, he kicked his shoes off and tried to wriggle the rope from his ankles at least. The wrists were bound too tightly, but perhaps if he could get his feet untied he could at least kick against the current and perhaps be able to stay afloat enough to get the air he needed to survive. He thought fleetingly of a cat he had once found, half dead on the shore of a river behind his grandparent's house in New York state. The cat had obviously been thrown into the river by it's owners, expected to drown, and it had somehow managed to survive long enough to be washed up on the river bed. He'd found the cat and pulled it from the mud and carried it home. Gramma G had lovingly bathed it, washing away the mud, and they'd fed the cat pieces of trout that his grandfather had caught that weekend. He'd wrapped it into a blanket and sat with it, telling it that it was going to be okay. That cat had lived, and so could Nick.

He managed to get the rope from his left ankle and began pushing at the rope tied about his right ankle with his left foot. The water was filling the Hummer steadily, and he knew in a few minutes he would have to think about how to get the doors opened or how to break the glass. The oxygen was beginning to run out. He hoped that he could still hold his breath as long as he used to be able to, and began breathing in shallow, steady breaths to prepare himself. As the rope gave way around the right ankle, the water reached him, and he gasped sharply. It was freezing. "Fuck," Nick whimpered as the icy water engulfed him, rising quickly to his knees. It seemed to be flowing harder now, and Nick realized the car was probably going deeper, and the water pressure was probably pushing harder against it. He had to get out now or it would be too late -- if it wasn't already. He kicked at the window he'd been leaning against in the parking lot, but it resisted. "C'mon, please..." he kicked harder, throwing all of his weight into it the very best he could. He fell backwards, landing in the pooling water underneath him. "Fuck that's cold!" he yelled.

The car began to nose dive, standing what felt like perpendicularly in the river. The water rushed to the front seat of the car, and Nick found himself standing on the back of the passanger seat, kicking harder at the window. "Break, damn it! Break!" He realized the irony of the situations: how many windows had he broken as a kid playing baseball? How many times did he break glass things in stores and have to pay for them? Now that he was trying to break something it just wouldn't give. The water continued to rise higher and higher against him, it was now to his chest, and he struggled to gain any momentum at all to kick with, the water's pressure keeping him from being able to swing his limbs with any real force. "Break!" he begged the window, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

The water was now to his neck. He kicked to rise higher, and grabbed onto a garment hook in the back window of the Hummer. He pressed his feet against the furthest side window and began kicking that using his heels, hoping the bone would weaken the glass. Suddenly he found himself looking up at the back window, less than an inch of air remaining. He could see the faintest glow of the moon through the foggy water above him, and swallowed the deepest breath he could manage before ducking under the water. He blinked, trying to adjust to the sensation of the water in his eyes, then struggled to reverse his direction, putting his feet where his head had just been by the back window of the Hummer. Then, telling himself this was his last hope, he put every single ounce of himself into the kick.

He wasn't sure if it was the kick or if the water pressure had finally got to the window, but it burst, water flushing into the vehicle, shoving it down further. The car hit the bottom of the river bed, nose embedding itself into the muck. Nick kicked against the rush of water coming into the car and managed to squeeze out of the window into the current of the river, which instantly picked him up and began to carry him. Once he was freed, he realized he was disoiented, unsure which way he was facing, which way was up and which was down. He kicked aimlessly, reaching and trying to find any source of air. His cheeks and lungs burned and his heart pounded in his ears.

Suddenly, he felt something wrap itself around him. He kicked at it, sure it was a man-eating octopus or a squid, clawing the water as though he might find something to hold onto to help pull himself away. He turned to look to see, at least, what was taking hold of him, and found himself face to face with a man who, to Nick's panicked mind, looked an awful lot like the Grim Reaper. He gasped, and bubbles rushed from his mouth and nose, and he felt water he'd inhaled rush down his throat. The Reaper reached to his face, and pulled out a mouth piece, pressing it into Nick's mouth, and Nick felt oxygen fill his chest. The Reaper wasn't the Grim Reaper at all, he realized, but a scuba diver... and one who had just happened to save his life.

Brian's knees hit the dock the moment the sound of the Hummer hitting the water resounded. Howie's eyes were wide with disbelief; Kevin's jaw was set, his nose flaring with emotion. "God damn it, no," AJ cried as he threw himself forward, intending to jump in after the Hummer to rescue Nick, but the Goose caught his arm roughly, keeping him on the dock with a heavy hand. "Nick!" AJ violently shoved the Goose's grip off of him. Kevin reached over and rested a hand on AJ's shoulder.

As the Hummer dipped, then disappeared below the surface, the water trembling as the vehicle was swallowed alive, the Boss laughed. "Well, I guess he couldn't get out."

AJ turned to him. "You cruel bastard!"

Kevin took AJ by both shoulders, turning him to face him. "AJ, calm down."

"Calm down?" AJ yelled, eyes squaring with Kevin's. "How the hell can you expect me to calm down? Fuckin' A, Kevin. Didn't you see that? Don't you understand what we just saw, dude? We just saw these assholes kill Nick! Don't you get that?"

Kevin stoned over at AJ's words. "I get it, AJ, I get it all too well." His eyes welled up with tears, and his voice thickened, croaking against his throat. "What I also get is that if we act up too much it won't just be Nick they kill, okay? It's gonna be all of us if we don't calm down."

"Your friend speaks truth," the Boss intoned ominously, "He's a smart man. Listen to him." The Boss paused. "And now," he said, "We'll have a moment of silence for Mr. Carter." An extremely brief pause passed. "Okay, that's about enough of that sentimental bullshit. We've got business to take care of, my friends."

The Goose grabbed AJ roughly, and, being weakened by his display, he didn't fight. Gopher grabbed Howie while Red grabbed a hold of Brian. The Boss looked at Kevin. "I do believe you'll follow, as your three friends lives depend upon your collaboration with my plans?"

"Plans?" Kevin asked.

The Boss smiled, revealing a shining gold tooth. "Yes, I've got some pretty grand plans for you, Mr. Richardson. Come with me... We'll have a chat." The Boss motioned for Kevin to follow him as he waddled his way back to where his Lexus was parked. Gopher, Red and Goose pulled the other guys to the van. Kevin watched as they hoisted the guys in, then turned to look one last time at the river, which had returned to it's glassy smooth appearance now that the Hummer, presumably, was completely submerged and, more than likely, one of his best friends was gone forever. Kevin felt a lump, raw and scratchy, rise in his throat. "Well?" The Boss's voice echoed down the hill and Kevin ripped his eyes away from the Hudson river and trudged up to the Lexus, feeling numb.

-----

Agent Bryant broke the surface of the water the way a rocket would break a sheet of glass. His head thrown back as he popped up, he opened his mouth wide to drink in the air greedily. Nick's head broke the surface as well. Shaking, Nick reached to pull away the mouth piece from his face, gasping for fresh air as well. He looked at Bryant as the agent pulled away the diver's mask.

"I dunno why you were down there," Nick said, "But my God did you ever have excellent timing."

Agent Bryant laughed. "I was planning to come up, guns blazing and a cloud of glory to save all of you from this sort of thing happening..." he replied. "Let's get to shore, then we'll trade accounts."

Nick nodded, then started to paddle towards the now empty dock he'd flown over just minutes before. Suddenly, he remembered and turned to Bryant. "Beneficiary. Brian. Embassy bombing. Midnight. Kevin. Scapegoat." Nick spat the words hurriedly.

"What?" Bryant looked at Nick like he had rocks in his head.

"The details," Nick explained, "You said to remember the details."

Bryant laughed and ruffled Nick's hait, smiling. "You've done good, kid."

-----

The Boss poured Kevin a scotch once they'd settled into the back seat of the Lexus. A chauffer-looking guy sat in the driver's seat, the windows were heavily tinted. Kevin reluctantly took the glass from the godfather and looked down at the liquor suspiciously. He didn't dare to drink it, so instead he sloshed the liquid around in the bottom of the glass, watching it sway. "What is this, really?" Kevin asked, meaning the scotch as much as he meant the situation.

The Boos chuckled, then downed his own drink before reaching for Kevin's. "If you don't mind," he said, pounding the scotch. "Now for business," he said, pulling a red silk handkerchief from a pocket inside his suit coat and daintily tapping the corners of his mouth with it. "You seem like a smart man, Mr. Richardson, and so, as a smart fellow, you'll appreciate the offer I've got for you."

Kevin looked the Boss squarely in the eyes. "You can't bring Nick back, or restore my life to what it was just a few days ago. I'm sorry, sir, but unless you can do those things in return for me then I have no use for any offer that you've got to make me."

With a sigh, the Boss answered, "Well, that is very unfortunate. Very unfortunate indeed." He pressed his fingertips together and rested his face against them for a moment before continuing, "Also, unfortunately for you, is the fact that I don't really give a damn how you feel about it. This is more of a non-negotiable offer, you might say, as opposed to one which you have the choice to accept." He smiled, "You see, this is more like an offer that you cannot refuse."

Kevin nodded nobly, "As long as you know that my participation is not willing."

"We are on our way to the Embassy building where you, Mr. Richardson, are about to commit a heinous act of terrorism by detonating a bomb on the steps of the building." The Boss smiled fondly, "My little Isa made the bomb herself in her spare time. She's a bit of a genius, you know." He shook his head, returning to the offer. "You, Kevin, are going to be my international face of terrorism forever."

"How is this an 'offer'?" Kevin asked.

The Boss smiled, "Well, you get to live. Maybe. If you know how to detonate the bomb without getting blown up yourself. But that's your problem. You ever detonate a bomb before?"

"If I say 'no', would it make me disqualified for the job?" Kevin asked. He plowed on, "And even if I do live through the detonation, I spend probably the rest of my life in jail."

"It's better than the alternative," the Boss answered.

Kevin looked away, peering out the window at the city lights beyond the glass. He thought of his wife and their plans for kids that he couldn't have if he were behind bars. He thought of Christmases spent in a lonely cell and of his mother way down in Kentucky all alone. "That's debatable," he said.

Nick and Agent Bryant ran up the slope of the pier Nick had flown over mere minutes before, both of them dripping wet. Nick pulled his shirt off to wring it out and realized that he'd had his bullet proof vest on while he was underwater. No wonder he'd felt so heavy! He twisted and squeezed the shirt as they ran. Agent Bryant stripping his scuba gear and dropping it on the pavement like Hanzel and Gretel's bread crumbs. When they reached the top of the hill and had emerged into the empty streets behind the fish markets, Bryant paused and whipped out a hand held radio from a pocket that'd been protected by the wet suit. "Agent Bryant. Mayday. Anyone copy me? I need a car. Now." The radio hissed, crackled, and rumbled, but nothing that resembled functionality ensued.

Nick swallowed back his nerves. "Broken?"

"Yeah," Bryant threw it to the ground. The plastic shattered, scattering every which way. He looked around. "We need a fucking car," he stated. Nick looked around, too. The only car he saw belonged to a man who looked very grubby and was stumbling out of the back door of one of the apartment buildings. Bryant glanced at Nick, Nick looked back eyebrows raised. Bryant nodded, then crossed the alley way with an air of determination and authority. He pulled out his badge, and caught the guy before he could sit in the car. "Sir, I'm Agent Bryant with the FBI," he stated, "And I am commendeering your vehicle for imperitive government use."

The guy blinked up at him in response, "You can't take my car..."

Bryant nodded for Nick to get in the passanger seat. "I'll return it to you safely. If any damage is done to it, you'll be repaid." Bryant snatched the keys from the man's hands and crawled into the driver's seat. The man began to protest, but before he could say much, Bryant had already gotten in and slammed the door behind him. He turned to Nick, "You ready for one hell of a ride?"

Nick smirked, "Worse than the one going to GMA was?"

"Much, much worse," Agent Bryant replied. "Hold onto your knickers, Nick."

-----

As the Lexus pulled to a stop in a parking lot across the street from the building, Kevin gulped and closed his eyes, trying to draw strength from somewhere inside of him. The Boss reached under one of the seats and pulled out a box. "I have this gift for you," he said, holding it out to Kevin. It was what looked like a giant wrestler's belt with wires and little plastic knobs and bits attached to it all over it. It had one wire that came out from the side and had a little remote with a red button on it. The Boss pushed it to Kevin. "It's simple really," he said. "You put this on, you hit this button, and --" he made the sound of an explosion with his mouth. "Just like that."

Kevin frowned and looked at the belt as the Boss laid it across his lap. "You aren't going to get away with this," he said.

The Boss smiled, "You let me worry about what I will and won't get away with, okay? You just worry about getting that thing on." He pulled out a gun. Kevin nodded and began playing with the buckle. "Careful now," the Boss chuckled, "I'd hate to see you detonate it before it's time."

-----

AJ hadn't moved much since the Boys had been put into the van. He couldn't believe that Nick was gone. He felt sick to his stomach, and the bumps and turns the van was taking wasn't helping matters, since the Boys had been tossed onto the floor. AJ laid with his hands and face pressed to the cold floor. Brian sat next to him, a protective hand resting on his back, and Howie stared at the wall and the patterns on the chairs, trying to preoccupy his mind.

When the van came to a stop, Brian and Howie both sat up straighter, looking around and at each other. "Where are we?" Howie asked the Goose.

The Goose smiled, "We're to the part where this all gets a little more fun." He pulled out a gun and cocked it. "No funny shit from you three."

-----

With Agent Bryant driving, it was no time before they'd gotten halfway to the Embassy building. Nick's eyes were wearily watching the clock as it ticked from the dashboard. "Jesus, we're gonna be late, Bryant," he whispered, his stomach turning, "What if they've already blown up ---"

"We're going to be fine," Agent Bryant replied, laying his foot heavier on the gas pedal. "Don't forget who's behind the wheel here. Were you late to GMA? No. Did you think you'd make it in time? Nope."

"No but this is way different," Nick answered, his voice tight and worried, "I mean they've got my best friends and... we're so far away and there's only... twenty minutes left to get there." He hung his head, "I'm scared of what they'll do to my friends."

"I understand," Agent Bryant replied, "I would be too." He smiled weakly at Nick as he sped through a red light at an intersection. Nick grabbed the handle over his chair and closed his eyes as the car just barely squeaked between on coming taxi cabs. If Universal studios ever needed inspiration for a new ride, they should have Agent Bryant drive them somewhere, he decided and covered his face with his hands. "So did you happen to over hear what sort of bomb they're using?" Bryan asked, "That'll help us to determine how to dismantle it."

Nick shrugged without moving his hands, "No, they didn't really say," he replied, "Isa made it, though."

Agent Bryant's eyes widened, he felt his skin go clammy and he looked at Nick, shocked. "Isa?? Isabel Romera? THE Isabel Romera?"

Nick moved his hands, "Um... Isa Romera, yes, I dunno if her name's short for Isabel or not... and 'THE' Isa? I dunno... What'd you date her too? Her laugh... Jesus. Is that obnoxious or what?"

Agent Bryant smacked his face in that "d'oh!" kind of way, "Nick, YOU dated Isabel Romera?!"

"Um... yeah... Why?"

"She's been wanted by the FBI for seven years for bombing mechanics. She's been suspect in several terrorist bombings around the city, including one at a government office in Times Square three years ago." Agent Bryant groaned, "We had no idea she was still in the city or that she was involved with this case... Nick!" Bryant's eyes widened, "Nick this is HUGE."

"I didn't know..." Nick answered, gulping.

Agent Bryant's foot slammed down on the pedal harder and Nick returned his hands to his face. "We've got to get to the Embassy before it's too late. We've gotta catch this maniac. Kevin is in very, very real danger if Isabel Romera was the bomb's designer..."

"She's the Boss's daughter," Nick added.

"Jesus--- JE--- SUS..." Agent Bryant breathed in disbelief. "Well, now, that just makes the plot thicken, doesn't it?"

-----

The Boss smiled, "I do believe we're ready for the show then," he said, eyeing Kevin's handiwork with the belt. It was securely on, the wires were all set correctly from what he could tell, and Kevin had the detonation button in his hand, ready to be pressed. "Very well done." He saluted Kevin, "I shall remember you as an intelligent copatriot, a noble victim, and a damn good firework display."

Kevin rolled his eyes, "I'll remember you for the fat slime you are," he replied.

The Boss chuckled, "A legacy I shall be proud of." He pushed Kevin, "Get the hell out there." Kevin swallowed and struggled to climb out of the car. "And remember," the Boss called after him, "We have all three of your other little friends at gun point. One false move and they'll all get it. You do what we say and we'll let those three go." Kevin nodded and climbed out of the car.

-----

Brian watched out the back window of the van, hoping somebody would find it there and think it was suspicious. No such luck. There was nobody on these streets at this hour, he decided. So much for the city that doesn't sleep -- there was nothing out there. He pressed his face and hands against the glass.

Suddenly a walkie talkie the Goose had in his breast pocket cackled and the Boss's voice snaked through like smoke. "You boys ready for the Forth of July?" he chuckled, "Get those three out on the street. Gun point. Let'em watch the show. I'm sure they'll find it... very.. inspirational."

Howie looked at AJ and Brian wearily as the Gopher and Red grabbed them and the Goose went for him. "Where are we going now?" Howie asked. AJ's knees were weak and he stood, hunched over, and shaking, even as Gopher tried to straighten him up.

"We're going to watch your friend blow up the Embassy," Goose responded, laughing evilly.

"What?" Brian's head snapped to attention, "Kevin??"

The Goose smiled, "Amazing how easily the most noble of us can be persuaded to persue less than nobel careers, isn't it?"

"Kevin would never join the mob," AJ suddenly shouted.

Gopher laughed, "That's what I always said, and yet... here I am. One of the crew." He smiled at Goose and Red. "Let's go watch, shall we?"

Brian struggled, "What'd you do to my cousin?" he cried.

The Goose smirked, "What? Didn't think he'd turn out to be a suicide bomber? Imagine how shocked the fans will be, huh?"

"Suicide bomber?" AJ's eyes widened, as did Howie's and Brian's.

"Let's go watch," Red snarled, pushing the door to the van opened. "Any monkey business and we'll shoot all three of ya, so keep your mouths shut."

-----

When they were two blocks away, Agent Bryant pulled the vehicle into a parking lot and turned it off. He cocked his gun and pulled extra ammunition out of another pocket, then handed a second gun to Nick. "Here, put this in your pocket." Nick slid it into his pocket. "We're going the rest of the way by foot because pulling up in his hunk of crap will give us away."

"Won't that slow us down, though?" Nick asked, worried, looking at the time.

"Yeah, but the element of surprise is imperative," Bryant answered. "Let's go."

They got out of the car and began running down the streets towards the building. Nick held his hand over the pocket that carried his gun, telling himself that he had what it took to shoot it if he needed to. He could save his friends, he could save the day, and even the world... even if he was a blonde.

-----

Kevin stumbled up the steps of the building, feeling the breeze dance across his face, and wishing he could see the stars one last time. He tried to remember what he'd last said to Kristin, and hoped that she'd be okay. He consoled himself with the thought that soon he'd see Nick again. When he reached the stop of the stairs, he sat down on the cold marble and took a deep breath, looking around and breathing in the cool night air. He rubbed his arms and shuffled his feet. He looked at the vans and saw them ushering Brian, Howie and AJ out of the backs, at gun point. He frowned. Brian's eyes were wide and wild with fear, AJ's face was downcast, refusing to look up, and Howie had his arm around AJ's shoulders, his face carrying a worried expression. Kevin hoped that those three would be okay, too.

When the door to the Lexus opened, Kevin stood up. The Boss climbed out, reminding Kevin of Jabba the Hut from Star Wars and held his hands on his belt loops, looking quite smug. He smirked evilly at Kevin, and shouted so Kevin could hear him, "Are you ready for the show?" Kevin looked down at the red button in his hand. "Press the button, Kevin... Press the button, or your three friends here will pay your penalty."

A wild and very fleeting thought occurred to Kevin that if he allowed them to shoot Brian, Howie and AJ that the five of them would be reunited on the Other Side. But he pushed that thought away and turned back to the only option he had. "I love you guys," he whipsered, "You were my brothers... my best friends... and I'm proud of you." Then he brought his thumb down on the red button, pressing it and held his breath...

Nick rounded the corner before Agent Bryant did. He saw Kevin on the steps, about to press the button, and didn't wait. He rushed forward, his legs propelling him faster than he could ever have imagined, driven mainly by passion, galloping up the steps, evn as Kevin's fingers pressed downward. "NO!" he screamed, "KEVIN, STOP!!!!" He held out his hands, waving them, his eyes wide, "Don't press that! Don't do it Kevin!" Kevin looked up, but his thumb was already in the motion, the button already pressed. "NO!" Nick hollered. There was a sickening pause, as they both prepared for the explosion.... but nothing happened. Kevin looked down at the detonation device in surprise, and Nick arrived at his side, his arms flying around Kevin. "You're OKAY!" You're okay! You didn't hit the button!!!"

Kevin blinked at Nick, his jaw dropped. "I did.. I hit it.. I... Am I dead?"

"No!" Nick hugged him tight. "I'm sorry I snuck out! I'm sorry I was such a jerk earlier, Kevin, you're the best, you're my brother, and my almost father pratically. Kevin, I love ya man, I'm so glad you're alive!"

"I can't believe YOU'RE alive," Kevin sputtered in disbelief.

"Nick???" AJ's shout echoed off the building, "Nick is that you? Holy shit! Guys!" Brian and Howie were glowing as they looked up where Nick and Kevin stood. Not only had Kevin not been blown up, but there was Nick!

The Boss's eyes widened. "Carter?" he hissed.

Nick looked down at the bomb strapped to Kevin's body, "Heh... Well, so much for that, huh?" He smiled.

The Boss suddenly reached into the Lexus and withdrew a gun, while Nick and Kevin were busy celebrating each other's aliveness. They didn't even see as the Boss pulled it out, cocked it, aimed, and fired it. AJ was the first to react when the shot rang out. "Jesus Christ, Nick, he's got a gun, get down, both of you!" The Boss let off twenty shots, each one immediately following the other. Nick grabbed Kevin and turned so that he was back to the Boss, blocking Kevin from the bullets.

Three more shots were fired, and the Goose, Gopher and Red went down, pulling Brian, AJ and Howie down with them. Brian looked up as Agent Bryant offered a hand to the three Boys, "Hurry up. Take their guns," he said, then stepped over the three bodies and marched, with purpose, towards the Boss. He leveled his gun, "Drop your weapon, NOW," he demanded the Boss.

The Boss looked at Agent Bryant, and he laughed manicly, even as he dropped the gun. "It's quite alright Agent. I took out who I was after."

"You bastard," he pulled the trigger. One, two, three shots, and the Boss went down, not dead, only injured, but enough that Bryant was able to rush in and make the arrest, slapping the heaviest hand cuffs he had onto the Boss's fat wrists. "And you..." he turned to Isa, who was just sneaking out of the front seat of the Lexus as he turned from apprehending her father. He leveled the gun, "Miss. Romera, you're under arrest as well."

Isa held up her hands in surrender, her jaw dropped at the sight of her father on the ground. Agent Bryant hurried forward and cuffed her as well. "You might've arrested us," she taunted Agent Bryant, "But we got the job done just the same." She nodded to the stairs. Bryant turned to look, and felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight... then rush to join the Backstreet Boys where they were regrouping on the stairs of the Embassy building.

When Agent Bryant reached the Boys on the stairs, Nick was down on the steps, laying across Kevin's lap. Kevin's eyes were wide, and the other three Boys were running up the stairs towards them, carrying the three mobsters' guns with them. Kevin's eyes were wide and he was frowning. Brian, Howie and AJ had just reached them, and huddled around, each one laying a hand on Nick. Through the back of Nick's shirt were eighteen bullet holes. "Oh my God," Bryant whispered, his stomach turning. Kevin rolled Nick over, his eyes closed and his features were emotionless, his limbs lifeless. Bryant stood before Nick as well, right at his feet, and looked at the other four guys around him. Behind him, he was distantly aware of other squad cars pulling up and of officers getting out and inpsecting what had happened. One of the back up officers arrived at his side.

"What happened?"

"Officer down," Bryant replied in an official tone, "KIA, it looks." The officer closed his eyes in respect, then backed away, and jogged back down the stairs.

"We just got him back," Kevin whispered, his voice low with unshed tears, "We just got him back."

AJ's voice, too, was thick with emotion. "I can't believe it..."

Officer Bryant stood up and pulled a badge from his pocket. "This was going to be Nick's honorary FBI Agent badge," he said, bending to place it on Nick's chest, "I was going to give it to him tonight... after everything was over." Bryant stood upright again. "Best damn agent I ever had. Been through hell, and still determined to keep on until he'd made the arrest." Bryant smiled, "Even if he was only on the squad for one day."

Howie looked at the badge, which was the NYPD shield. He read the name, "AGENT CARTER," with a smile. It was engraved on the bottom of the shield. "He would've liked that a lot," Howie said, imagining Nick carrying it around and showing it off to every person who would listen... multiple times.. per minute. He smiled, "I would've had to punch him if he'd told me about it one more time."

"Me, too," Brian said, his eyes welling up. "Nick was amazing."

"Sure was," AJ interjected, "He was fucking incredible... So loyal and caring, he was the gentlest not-gay guy I ever knew."

Kevin smiled weakly, "He was funny, too, always had a great sense of humor, even when he was the joke."

"And.. don't... don't forget... damn good... good lookin'."

Bryant, Howie, AJ, Brian and Kevin's heads all snapped to look at Nick. "Nick?!?"

His eyes fluttered opened, a weak, faint smile spread across his face, "That's... Agent... Nick.. to.. to you."

"Oh my God," Brian's hands went up in praise and he grinned, ear to ear.

Kevin's arms wrapped around Nick's head, and he began to cry as Howie and AJ each grabbed an arm. Agent Bryant smiled, "Welcome to the squad, Agent Nick." Nick hummed happily.

"You're alive, you're fucking alive," AJ yelped with joy. "I'm so glad! Dude, I am so gonna beat the shit out of you for scaring me like that."

Brian shook his head, "How on earth did you live through that, Nick?" he whispered, "That man shot you eighteen times in the back... Eighteen bullets, Nick, even Superman would be taken out with that."

Nick's arm moved slowly to the front of his shirt, which he pushed up to reveal his bullet proof vest beneath. "I almost took it off, too." He smiled slowly, and laughed low, quiet, before it was interrupted by a cough that shook his whole body.

"Jesus, you sound like crap," AJ mumbled.

"I kinda... kinda feel like crap, too..." Nick said, eyes fluttering as though he were about to go back to sleep.

Kevin leaned down by Nick's ear, "Hey... Just so you know... you totally saved the day." Nick smiled.

-----

So now you know how it is that Nick single handedly saved the day, and took out the terrorist mob. Well.. sort of single handedly. It was, after all, his back that'd blocked Kevin's certain doom and all that stuff. Plus he'd been the one to tell Agent Bryant that there was a problem at all. And he'd been the one that went flying off the pier in the Boss's Hummer. So what if the bomb Isa (who by the way was rotting in jail for 30 years, minimum, without parole) had built had been less than perfect and that's why it hadn't detonated? So what if it'd been Bryant who'd actually shot Red, Gopher and Goose? And yeah, he was the one that took out the Boss after the Boss shot Nick. So what? Nick had a badge to prove he was the brave one.

Well I'd like to tell you that they all lived happily ever after and never experienced any kind of drama ever again.. but.. unfortunately... that wouldn't be true. The Backstreet Boys never go very long without SOME kind of drama going on in their lives and.. well.. being an honorary Agent in the FBI, Nick got to save a lot more days.... But those are stories you're just going to have to wait to hear.

COMING SOON: SAVING THE DAY FOR BLONDES 2: The Amazing Story About How Nick Apprehended The Infamous Masquerade Murderer Without ANY Caffeine in His Whole Body!
You'd think after saving everyone from a Terrorist Mob that people would at least PRETEND to think Nick is capable of taking care of himself. But, in the words of Rodney Dangerfield --- he gets no respect [insert tie adjusting here]. So when Agent Bryant calls for help, can they just let him go get the job done? Oh no, no, perish the thought! Nick ends up dragging along AJ of all people to solve the case, searching for a mysterious masked serial killer who is wrecking havoc all over the world. Can Nick stop the murderer before it's too late? And most importantly, will the other fellas EVER think he's anything but a dumb blonde kid?