Howie Dorough sat on the couch of his hotel room in New York City. He shivered uncontrollably, his body wracked with the aftershocks of the sobs he could no longer release. He'd cried for hours... and if he had the tears to cry anymore he could probably continue for days.

He stared down at the splatters of blood that had soaked into a large area of the ugly tan carpeted floor, running into the huge puddle before him. A chill run down his spine as he thought about the moments that had brought him here, to this.

How in the hell had this happened? How in the hell had he ended up here, sitting on a couch in one of the nicest hotel rooms in on of his absolute favorite cities, staring at these blood stains on this ugly tan carpet?

And could those blood stains really belong to one of his very best friends.

Nick Carter sat on the edge of his own hotel bed, across the hall in suite separated from Howie. He had his face buried in his hands and he sniffled every now and then. This was his desperate attempt to hold back the flood of tears threatening to spill from within. The flood of tears he'd refused to release because he knew releasing them would only make this even more real than it already was.

He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that hotel, far away from the blood and the gruesomeness of it all. Away from the pain and the sorrow and the sadness that what should have been a joyful day, had ended up throwing their way.

He raised his head and stared at the police officer standing beside the doorway.

Guarding the doorway.

It was sad to think he actually hated a woman he didn't even know, but in that moment, he did. All he wanted to do was leave this God-awful place and find his friend and she was the only one standing in his way.

He knew that somewhere beyond that door, in pain and agony, suffering and alone without the people who loved him most in the world, was one of his brothers. For a brief moment he seriously contemplated kneeing the officer in the crotch and running like hell, but he knew that would only end in an ugly manner and get him absolutely nowhere. Instead, he would have to just keep on sitting there, waiting.

He turned instead and stared at the door to the bedroom. That's where they'd taken Brian. Taken him for 'questioning'... for what Nick didn't really know... or why. He just knew he wanted out of that hotel soon or he would surely lose his mind.

Brian Littrell sat in silence on the other side of the bedroom door. The large police officer loomed over him like a giant. His heart beat fast enough he felt it might actually fail him.

He remembered everything and he needed to get it all off his chest, and yet he didn't want to talk about it just then, or probably ever. All he wanted was to get to the hospital and find AJ. He knew in his heart his friend would be okay. He had to be okay.

He stared up at the police officer for a moment and sighed deeply, he had no idea how long he'd been waiting, but it felt like forever.

"You will have to speak to the detectives when they get here," the officer had told him after closing the door to the bedroom and having him sit in the small desk chair in the corner of the room. "We are detaining you for questioning."

His heart had died a little just then. Why him? He loved AJ. Aj was one of his best friends... his brother. He would never hurt him.

"What are you talking about??" He'd shouted at the officer in defense when he'd realized they were considering him a suspect... "I was there... the guy... I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

The cop just shook his head and put his finger to his lips. "If I were you son," he'd said in a condescending tone that made Brian's skin crawl, "I'd wait until my lawyer was present."

Brian had wanted to punch the man right in his face at that moment. How could he... how dare he? Brian vividly remembered the entire thing. He shuddered. In fact it would probably haunt him for the rest of his days...

He heard the pops before he was even fully awake. They sounded different to him, as if in his dreams, which wasn't an impossibility since he'd been sleeping peacefully up until that moment.

He curled into a ball as he tried to drift off, but then, there it was again... and this time it didn't sound so distant anymore. He didn't open his eyes right away, for fear of what his mind was telling him the noise had been. It sounded like gunshots... gunshots from very close by.

And then, he felt a hand around his neck and a sharp sensation as he was punched hard in the stomach. He opened his eyes and there staring back at him was a figure... a man. He only knew it was a man from the beard. He wore a masquerade type mask over the rest of his face which covered any other distinguishing features.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't speak... he could barely breathe. The man held the gun to his head and as he felt the walls begin to close in on him and the room begin to spin, the man pulled the trigger.

He screamed. Nothing happened.

The man pulled the trigger again and again as he struggled with him over the gun and eventually kicked him as hard as he could in the groin. The man yelped and finally, giving up, turned and ran for the door.

He jumped out of bed, the room still spinning precariously around him and screamed out into the hall for someone to help him. He was hurting bad. He'd been punched and kicked repeatedly in the stomach and his body was on fire. He hollered for Aj who should have been in the next room but no one moved and no one answered, and that's when he saw him... lying there on the floor...

Brian shook his head immediately and put his hand to his sore neck as the thoughts began to creep back in. He didn't want to picture the scene he'd witnessed earlier that day. The blood pouring steadily from his Aj's body as he moaned in agony on the floor of their hotel room. Brian had screamed so loud that nearly their entire floor had ended up in their room, people crowding around the two of them, as they felt for a pulse and tried to figure out if Aj was even alive. He was, thank God. Brian remembered that much of those moments, but nothing else.

He remembered Howie waking him up from his passed out stupor a few minutes after Aj had been loaded onto the ambulance and asking him what the hell had happened. But even though Brian could remember full well, he couldn't tell them... he didn't get the chance.

Screams had come from another room down the hall and everyone had flocked to see what had occured. They were coming from the room of their tour manager, Jim Claron... who was dead.

Brian leaned back in his chair, his head still spinning with the days events and tried to keep his mind focused on one small crack in the ceiling. Anything but the blood and the gore. He couldn't think about Aj... not now anyway.

All he could think about right now was living long enough to get the hell out of this hotel room.