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"Heyyy," AJ crowed, pointing, "It's Yacht Girl."

I have to admit I was impressed he remembered Amie after all the time that had passed since August. Leave it to AJ to not only remember the face, but remember the goofy nickname he'd assigned. He swept over, a grin on his face, and grabbed Amie's hand. "I'm Alex," he said in a smooth, womanizing voice. He winked, "If you need anything at all --"

"I'll be sure to ask Nicky," Amie smiled sweetly.

AJ turned pink. "Right. Right, yeah."

We were getting ready to finish the tour, and Amie had opted to come along with me. "If we stick together," she said, "We're stronger if and when the ministry comes for us." I was okay with this idea. It was nice havin someone who really understood what I was going through. I mean, poor Brian tried really hard to understand, but he just didn't get it. Not the way Amie, who's been there/done that did.

Plus, Amie was my second set of eyes to look for Claire during shows. Clearly, Claire had caught onto the idea of attending Backstreet Boys concerts in order to find me. She'd done it once, and since I was so much easier to find than she was, I figured I may was well use that platform to help us. I gave Amie a bonus VIP pass for every night so she could get Claire backstage with ease if she found her.

"It's great to meet you, finally," Howie said, shaking Amie's hand. "Nickerbocker didn't shut up about you for quite a while."

Amie grinned, "Oh?"

Howie nodded, "Oh yeah. He got quite obnoxious."

I felt my cheeks turn a little bit pink, even though I knew Amie knew better - Amie knew about Claire, after all. Hell, Amie was helping me to find Claire, wasn't she?

Brian pulled me aside as Amie boarded the tour bus. "Does she know I know?" he asked quietly.

"Not exactly," I answered. I hadn't gotten around to telling Amie that I'd told Brian everything. It just hadn't come up, it wasn't a purposeful design.

Brian nodded, "Okay."

Something inside me twitched. I don't know why, but as Brian started to walk away, I caught his elbow. "Hey B-Rok?" I asked, "Can we - uh, I mean, would you mind not - er --"

"Keeping it that way?" he asked, smiling gently.

"Yeah, that."

"Sure, no problem."

As I watched him walk away toward the Littrell Clan bus, I wondered what had gotten into me. I didn't really care if she knew. Yet... I did. It was a weird feeling, somewhere deep in my gut. I shrugged it off as best I could and started toward my own bus, where Amie was waiting.



The first couple shows, it was easy to remain upbeat and hopeful. But by show five, when Amie popped backstage after the show was over with that same pouty frown on her face, I started to lose hope - and fast. January was just around the corner, and I was terrified.

"It's okay Nicky," Brian said, patting my shoulder when we were changing between sets, "You've got tons of time to find her." He smiled. I hadn't told Brian about the thirteen thing. I felt like I was keeping a lot of half secrets from a lot of people. I nodded, though I didn't feel enthusiastic, and buried my face in my arm the moment Brian had frolicked out of the room.

I suckered a deep breath and looked into the mirror. My eyes were swollen, puffy from lack of sleep, and blood shot.

I felt as though I'd been waiting all of eternity.



It didn't take much to get my hopes up. A flash of red - any shade - would make my heart nearly stop, convinced it was Claire's hair. The stage lights glimmered around me, and every now and then the red lamp would catch my eye as it zoomed by and I'd forget what part of the dances I was doing.

"God damn it, Carter," AJ snarked once as I stopped mid-step and he slammed into me. We'd landed on our asses on the stage, and he'd jumped up, dusted himself off, and shook his head, "Having a woman on tour doesn't flatter you at all, man," he said in disapproval.

"It's okay, Nick," Brian said in a more understanding tone when I voiced my concern about my distraction by the color red. "One of these times, it'll really be her."

"I feel like a damn bull," I groaned.



At the fifteenth show on the tour, I barely had the energy to go on stage at all. "Maybe Hasselhoffer or whatever was wrong," I muttered to Brian morosely, sitting on the stool in front of my mirror, half heartedly buttoning my vest.

Brian was standing a couple feet behind me, tying his monsterous white sneakers. It was the week before Christmas. "Don't give up hope," he said, shaking his head.

I swallowed. "I don't have time to give up," I whispered; Brian didn't hear me.



”Niiiiiiiiick! Help me, please!”

I woke up with a start, and a shout. I hit my head on the ceiling of the bunk with a loud thunk and fell backwards into my pillow again, my forehead throbbing. I rubbed the sensitive skin, knowing I was going to end up with a bruise, and moaned. I’d just had the most terrible nightmare that I’d probably ever had. My stomach was rolling, churning.

I crawled out of the bunk and lowered myself into one of the seats by a window towards the front and stared out at the passing scenery. Cactus and dry flatlands told me we were almost into Phoenix. I stared at the rocks that were almost as red as Claire’s hair, and thought about the dream, letting it mull over in my mind.

I could hear her voice, echoing, begging, pleading to be saved. But I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t see how long I had. I had been back in that dark room, with the ankle deep water and the smooth walls and the tiny bead of light hanging high overhead, like a pinhole. I’d clawed at the walls, every cry of her voice sending my heart into cascades of furious worry.

I had to get to her. I had to save her. I had to… I just had to.

But there was no way out.

“Are you okay?” Amie was suddenly at my side, her palm cupping my shoulder.

I looked up at her. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I answered. She lowered herself into the seat ahead of me, kneeling to stare over the back of the seat at me. She reached over and stroked a strand of my hair over my ear. I stared out the window, ignoring her touch, though she was trying to be soothing. “I need to find her,” I whispered.

“You’re trying to,” Amie said.

I shook my head, “Not hard enough.”

“You’re doing all you can really be expected to do,” she argued.

“No, I’m not, Amie,” I argued back. “I can hear her… She calls to me.”

Amie looked at me, concerned, “She calls to you?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I dunno… Maybe I’m crazy… maybe it’s just a dream but… it feels so real.”

Amie sighed, “Nick, you’re trying the best you can,” she reassured me. But I shook my head. “What more could you possibly do?” she asked me.

Our eyes met. Locked.

“Just… more,” I answered, “Whatever it takes.”