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Chapter Four

Rochelle stood in the center of the entryway in the house, clutching the sweatshirt, staring around the room. She and AJ had spent the past couple years they'd been living together creating this space, working to make it bear their personalities, and now it felt like a slap in the face because he wasn't here and never would be again. Sitting on the table by the phone was a pad of Post-Its with her note with the address of the club Mark had heard he'd gone to. The last time she'd left this house she'd been in a fit of a rage, ready to go and pull him by the ear out of the club.

Howie and Leigh hovered behind Rochelle and Leigh stared down at her fingers entwined through Howie's. She and Rochelle were friendly, but they weren't close the way Rochelle and Lauren were. She was much closer to Leighanne and Kris. The "Backstreet Wives" were certainly a group of friends based on the relationship of their husbands, and she wondered what would happen now that Rochelle's connection to the group had been shattered.

"What can we do?" Howie offered, stepping forward, breaking the hold Leigh had on him. He wanted to have some action to perform, something to keep him moving, keep him busy. He felt like if he just stood there numbly that he'd crack open and emotions he didn't want to feel would come out. He looked around the room.

Rochelle shrugged. "What is there to do?" she commented. She turned to look at them, her eyes full of tears about to pour out, and she shrugged a second time, like putting an emphasis on her lack of knowledge.

Leigh cleared her throat, "You need to eat," she said. Like Leighanne, Leigh was a big advocate for making sure everyone had nourishment in times of trouble. It was a mommy-thing. It was how they dealt with things. Leigh quickly disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, stepping through the modern-decor living room. A few moments later, the sounds of pots and pans and the kitchen drawers opening and closing could be heard.

Howie stumbled into the living room, too, and Ro followed numbly. She watched as Howie stood in the center of the room and stared around at the walls and the furniture and the knick-knacks. AJ had a shelf of pictures on it and he wandered over to look at the framed memories that AJ cherished most. One of the photos was of all five Boys on some awards show years and years ago with crazy hair and crazy facial expressions. Another was Howie and AJ standing in the center of the NKOTBSB stage, hugging, the ocean of fans visible behind them. Then there was the wedding photos of he and Rochelle, one of him and Mark, another of Rochelle and her mother. One of Denise and AJ when he was a kid.

"Has anyone called AJ's mother?" Howie asked.

"Kevin called her," Rochelle replied.

Howie looked away from the picture. He couldn't imagine Denise's anguish. She'd had all she could do to handle AJ going to rehab, and she'd worked so hard since them helping him and others to keep things like last night from happening. He bit his lip. He looked over at Rochelle, who had sank into a blood red chair, still clutching the sweatshirt to her face. "If you need to stay with Leigh and I, you're welcome," he said suddenly.

Rochelle looked over, "Thank you Howie," she said, "But - I don't know. I think -" she sighed. "I think I need to go," she said.

"Go?"

"This hurts so much," Rochelle explained, "And I know it's wrong but I can feel this horrible building resentment for Nick and I don't want that to happen. I don't want to hate Nick because he got a heart that he needed. It isn't Nick's fault, what happened. It's AJ's fault. It's my --" she choked mid-sentence and covered her eyes.

Howie took three quick steps over and sat on the arm of the chair. "It's not your fault," he said in a commanding tone, "It's not. You did not do this to him."

"I went to the club last night," Rochelle sobbed, "I shouldn't have gone to that club. I yelled at him." She looked up at Howie. "He was sitting there in a sea of Jager and shot glasses and he was so smashed he could barely talk right, and he was caressing some fucking blonde and I told him to get up and he said no and I told him off. I told him I couldn't be with him anymore if he was going to act like this."

Howie felt sick. This was not a last memory to cherish. This was a horrible last memory of a person as unique and eccentric as AJ was. He stared at his knee.

"He followed me out to the street," Rochelle continued, "And we fought. We fought like crazy, and he finally told me to leave him."

"What?"

"He said if I hated it all so badly, if I couldn't understand why he needed to drink, that I should leave him," Rochelle croaked out the words, "And I - I told him - I told him I'd rather leave him than watch him shatter everything I loved about him." She looked up at Howie, her eyes blurry and tear-filled. "I told him I loved him too much to stay and that I'd be gone before he got home. So I ran to the car and I - I couldn't come back here, so I went to Lauren's."

Howie drew a deep breath. "It's still not your fault."

"But he followed me and he got in the accident and now he's dead," she argued. "If I'd just left him alone, if I'd just waited 'til he got home and confronted him here..." She suddenly felt like she was going to throw up. She leaped to her feet, almost knocking Howie off the arm of the chair and rushed out of the room to the bathroom. She slammed the door and dropped to her knees, retching painfully into the toilet, her face breaking into a sweat.

She wasn't in there long before the door creaked open and Leigh walked in, stepping around her, sitting on the edge of the tub, and scooping Ro's hair into her fist to keep it out of her face as she threw up. Leigh rubbed Rochelle's back.

"I love him so much," Rochelle sobbed.

"I know," Leigh replied quietly.

"I searched my entire life for him, for someone who loved me for me," Rochelle cried thick tears as she fell back onto her haunches, her back on the wall opposite the toilet. She looked up at Leigh, "Why did he have to die?"

Leigh took a deep breath, "I don't know, honey," she answered, "But everything has a reason."

Rochelle was reminded of the words she'd told Lauren in the car -- just before Dr. Carroll had called to tell her about AJ -- when she'd believed Lauren's prayers being answered was a good thing, when she hadn't felt that Lauren's prayers had killed someone. She felt her stomach churn threateningly again and slid to her knees, clutching the toilet seat. She stared u p at Leigh.

"At least you know that he didn't die for nothing," Leigh continued, "And -- you know Alex. He would've given his life to save Nick's if he'd had the choice. You know he would have. That's the thing about all of our husbands, isn't it? Nick would've done the same for AJ or Howie or Kevin or Brian, and they all would do the same for him or each other." Leigh sighed. "I know it's not a huge comfort, that it won't bring him back, but at least you know that if AJ had to die, if AJ knew he was going to die, that he would've chosen --" she couldn't finish the sentence.

Rochelle nodded. "You're right," she said simply.