I walked up the center aisle between the high stadium-style seats that comprised the studio audience of the Anna Bernard Show. Every seat was full, the lights had heated up the stage and I could feel them on the nape of my neck as I made my way forward to the steps up to the stage, where Anna Bernard herself was seated on a purple overstuffed chair, grinning all fakey, running her pudgey fingers along the strands of pearls that lined her neck. When I reached the steps, two stagehands shoved a microphone and a small deck of cue cards into my fists and I was ushered up into the blinding brightness of the lights. They were even brighter than the stage lighting at a concert; I couldn't see even the front row of the studio audience. A blinking red dot was all that indicated the camera's location to me. I smiled and waved and offered my hand to Anna Bernard in greeting before taking a seat on the cushion closest the arm on the wide, overstuffed lime green couch that faced Ms. Bernard's purple chair.

Anna Bernard leaned forward - clearly, someone had cued the audience to die down their cheers because they silenced relatively quickly, in unison, as she leaned closer to me.

"Welcome to my show."

"Thank you Anna," I replied, "It's a pleasure to be here."

"Pleasure's all mine." Anna winked in the direction of the audience and a few scant laughs echoed through th studio. She turned back to me, rested a wide-fingered palm on my leg, and beamed. "It's been forty years since the last Backstreet Boys tour, yes?" she asked.

"Thirty-eight, actually," I corrected her.

She licked her teeth under her muave lips and withdrew her hand. She looked at the teleprompter. "So you're seventy..."

"Five. Seventy-five." I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't used to the old stage lighting, to the feeling of hundreds of eyes on me. I squinted against the rays, trying to see where Baylee had said he'd be sitting just before he'd left me backstage with the capable assistants. I couldn't see even a shadow of him. My palms started sweating.

"So by now I'm sure you've heard about the Miracle," Anna said excitedly.

I licked my lips. I think everyone from here to Kingdom Come had heard about the Miracle. The Miracle was all anyone was talking about these days.

"Yes, of course," I replied.

Anna was practically crawling out of her skin, "And the Atlanta Times says that one of your friends' bodies was donated for medical research testing of Miracle?"

I nodded.

"Can you tell us about that?" she asked. She was all but salivating.

I took a deep breath. I'd of course known that this was probably what she'd wanted to talk about, considering 38 years wasn't any milestone of an anniversary and it wasn't like I had any promotional reason to be guest starring on her show. It was somewhat common knowledge that back in the day Anna Bernard had been one of our more rabid teen-fans, so it should've been anything but a surprise that she'd want to know about the Backstreet Boys and the connection to Miracle. After all, every talk show in the nation was vying for a new spin on the story, and Anna Bernard had found a way to bring not only a new spin, but intrigue, drama, and guaranteed TV ratings from fans.

"Do you agree with Jane's decision?"

"I suppose," I replied, but even I could tell from the tone of my voice that I didn't. Honestly, a part of me was curious why it was that someone as horrible as Nick's mother had been granted a lifespan long enough to allow her to still be alive into her ninties. But that wasn't a matter I was about to bring up on the Anna Bernard show.

"Were you surprised by the announcement Monday about Jane's choice to donate Nick's body to Miracle research testing?"

"Yes."

Shocked was more the word. Surprised just didn't cut it. I'd completely forgotten about the drama that had ensued years before between Jane and Bob and the custody battle over Nick's body and the choices that had been made concerning it and what to do with it. It had been, of course, a huge hub-bub when it had all been happening - but now it was ancient history. Suddenly, though, it had resurfaced, and Jane had come out of the woodwork, as she usually did, to make the announcement.

"If Miracle successfully works, Nick will be the third human being that will have been treated with the drug," Anna Bernard's voice was a hushed awe. "How do you feel about that?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I'm a bit of a skeptic when it comes to the idea," I replied.

"And why is that?"

"I believe God does what He does when He does it for a reason, and I'm not sure how I feel about the concept that man can reawaken man from the dead." I hesitated. I stared at my hands, "I suppose I'm morally against the concept."

"But didn't Christ reawaken man from the dead?" Anna Bernard questioned.

"Of course, but He was Christ," I answered, "We are not. Scientists are not God."

"They're as close as the world will allow us to be."

I shrugged again. "But is it really our place to be trying to attain that level?"

"Isn't that why Adam and Eve ate of the fruit?" Anna asked, "To attain the knowledge of God?"

"And it's why we were punished," I replied with a rueful smile.

"All the suffering the human race has gone through for it," she said, smiling back, "It's about time we're given the knowledge that we had coming to us all these years."

I studied my fingernails.

"So Brian," Anna's hand was back on my thigh. "Will you be there? When he awakens? Will there be a Backstreet Boys reunion?"

I licked my lips. "I will be. And Kevin, at least," I answered. "I haven't spoken to AJ or Howie yet about it, so I can't say for sure if they'll come along..."

"Well why don't we ask them?" Anna Bernard smiled and turned in her seat to face the steps that I'd come up, "Can we bring out the other three Backstreet Boys?"

I turned in surprise. I hadn't known the other fellas were there, too. I thought I'd been invited to appear alone. My heart clenched in my chest. Other than Kevin, who I saw at almost every major family function, I hadn't seen the guys since Nick's funeral. Something deep in the pit of my stomach ached as their forms emerged, one by one, out of the florescent lights like angels out of a dense fog. Howie led the way, then paused to let AJ pass and help Kevin up the steps. Howie's features were creased with wrinkles that made him appear kindly, and his still-thick-curly hair was salt and peppered. AJ was next, a heavy frame, faded colors in the tattoos on his arms, thick bifocals, and shining bald head reflecting the light. Kevin followed, his thick white beard and eyebrows perfectly groomed, as always. One by one they greeted Anna and shook my hand and set themselves down beside me on the couch, AJ commenting on the great decor and Kevin groaning as his arthritis creaked his bones. Howie kissed Anna Bernard's knuckles and lowered himself onto the far arm of the couch, reaching around Kevin and AJ to nudge my shoulder and throw me a wink.

My hands were shaking.

A stagehand ran out onto the stage and stuck microphones into their hands. Kevin studied his for a moment, while AJ quickly raised his to his own mouth, "Hello, hello, hello," he said, his voice older and more grainy than it had ever been, but still exuding that personality that he'd always had. The women in the crowd cheered. Howie waved and Kevin lowered the microphone from his inspection and looked at me as though he'd just now noticed me. He smiled.

"Welcome to the set," Anna greeted them. She smiled proudly, "Four out of five Backstreet Boys, reunited once more." She seemed contented, quite proud of herself indeed. It was, actually, quite a feat. It had been nearly 40 years since the last time we'd been this close to being a full reunited set, after all. The Backstreet Boys cruise in 2011 had been the last time we'd been a fivesome - at the Cable Beach resort in Nassau. After that... well.

"So bring me up to speed Boys," she said, "What have each of you been up to since 2012?"

Our eyes all turned to Howie.

"Me first?" he asked. It was unusual, we'd never all turned to Howie to respond first before, but somehow it seemed right that he should. "Well I got a bit more into business," he explained, "Opened some clubs, some hotels, the like." Some clubs and some hotels was putting it mildly. Howie was easily one of the top 50 richest men on the face of the earth at this point. He had to be. He had built a hotel chain that had reached even the furthest parts of the planet. He owned an entire island for God's sake. Dorough Hotel & Resorts Inc. had bought out several other hotel chains (including the Hiltons) and become practically synonomous with vacation in the United States. He had one planted at Disney World and Universal Studios, Dubai, London, Paris, Tokyo, Sydney, New York, Los Angeles, Rio... You name it. Howie had practically revolutionized the entire hotel industry.

"I did some work on Broadway," Kevin supplied. Ah yes, Broadway. Kevin had never quite taken off on his own to Backstreet proportions. He'd battled with Jane and Bob for a short time back when the hub-bub had been going on, but other wise he'd managed to lay under the radar for the past 38 years. He'd continued doing short indie movies that didn't really go anywhere besides the circuit of Backstreet Boys fans. And even that circuit had died down considerably after the accident.

Attention turned to AJ. He shrugged, "Mostly just became a family man." He smirked, "My daughter just got signed to a modeling agency last month, and my son's been accepted into medical school. Dartmouth," he added. AJ and Rochelle had settled down and had a wonderful little life. They went skiing every year in the Rockies with their two kids, Calliopie and Heathrow, whose names I found completely ridiculous. "Hey maybe Heath could get in on the Miracle research," he joked, nudging Kevin, who winced as AJ's elbow squished his own. Kevin's arthritis was really acting up today; I wondered if there was a storm in the air.

Anna turned to look at me. My mouth felt dry. "I released that album," I said, "A couple years ago. Mostly just worked with some nonprofits..." I shrugged. Honestly, I hadn't done a lot. Everything had effectd me more than I'd thought it would. I'd gone into hiding - hiding from everything. Leighanne had left me after seven years had gone by, got remarried somewhere around ten years after leaving me, and had other kids. Baylee had been my main family. I'd moved in with him after he'd gotten married. I had three grandkids - they were back home in Atlanta with their mom. But as for things to brag about... there wasn't a whole lot.

Everything had sort of come to a halt that night.

"So let's talk about Nick for a minute," Anna Bernard said, shifting her weight in the purple chair. "Who wants to tell me exactly what happened the night that he died?"

All four of us looked to our sneakers.

"Anyone?" Anna asked.

I will never in my life forget the phone call I got that night.

It was just past two o'clock when the telephone's cry pierced the night. I'd rolled out of bed. The hardwood floors in our house were cool and stung my feet as I made my way out of our bedroom and into the hall where the nearest extension was. I caught it up off the cradle. "Hello?" my voice was hushed, low to keep the volume level down so as to keep from waking anyone else up.

A gasping groan echoed through the receiver, a shuddering breath.

"Hello?" We'd had a recent breakout of phone calls from fans lately because of an accident where my phone number had somehow been posted on the Internet, but this was the first we'd received at such an inappropriate time. I frowned, "Look, please don't call in the middle of the night, it's really disrespectful." I started to hang up, but I heard it only just in time.

"K-K-ev?"

I returned the receiver to my ear. "Nick?"





"Anyone?" Anna Bernard was looking from one of us to the next, none of us willing to look up from our shoes.

I'd always been the one to speak in the difficult places. I knew the other guys were all expecting me to pick up the slack here, too, but all I could hear was Nick's voice echoing in my head. My throat ached. I looked up and the stage lights eked into my retinas and I could feel tears forming somewhere in the ducts. Every bone in my body felt cold and stiff at the same time. "It's a hard topic," I told Anna Bernard.

She looked like a toad sitting on a thick purple flower of some sort. The entire set was decorated rather gaudily, like some sort of neon Spring fashion plate - what with the lime and the purple. It was awful. Figures AJ would like it, he'd always had a taste for things that I found to be nothing short of an eyesore.

"I'm sure it is," Anna replied, frowning in a way that said she expected me to tell her what happened anyways.

The other guys were staring at me. Brian's eyes were bloodshot. He looked small, smaller than he'd looked even the last time I'd seen him. Age had not treated Brian very well. There was a time we'd joked that Brian would be the next Dick Clark, what with not ever looking any older (other than the bald spot we all teased him about putting sunscreen on). But it had been a rapid and sudden transformation after his thirty-seventh birthday. He looked desperate somehow, as though he needed to hear the story, needed to hear, once again, that there wasn't a thing he could've done to help, wasn't a reason in the world that he could possibly be carrying the guilt for what had happened...

"It was... an accident..." I forced the words out of my mouth.

"There were a lot of theories," Anna Bernard pointed out, "Variances in stories..." she glanced at Brian, then at AJ, and Howie, before returning her eyes to my own. "The drunk driving charges, of course."

"Those were dropped after the autopsy," I said flatly.

"Yes, of course, but should they have been?" Anna questioned.

"The autopsy showed no blood-achohol content," I replied cooly, "So why even ask that?"

Anna Bernard shrugged. She was known for blowing the top of controversy. I remember overhearing Mason once describe her to Kristin as a real-life Rita Skeeter. "I was just curious is all," she said, equally cooly. She smiled. "How did you find out about the accident?"

I shifted my eyes downward to study my hands for a long moment. Sometimes even I was shocked by the age that they held. It seemed like just yesterday I'd been with the guys, touring the world, yelling at Nick and Howie and AJ for partying too loud. Paying off hotel charges for things like broken television sets, ripped up pillows, and ironing boards that flew out windows. Facing the reality that it had been over four decades since I'd done any of that was hard.

"He called me," I replied, looking back up.

Brian was the only one of the fellas that knew this. I felt AJ shift to look at me and Howie's sharp intake of air over my head. I pressed my fingertips together.

Anna Bernard's face contorted with confusion and concern. "But how did..."

"I was the last person he spoke to."

A heavy silence filled the studio. Not a single breath could be heard among the members of the audience. AJ's stomach made a strange, squelching sound. Brian's head hung to his chest and the unmistakable glisten of a tear rolled across his long cheek.

"What did he say?" Anna Bernard's voice was scarcely above a whisper. It didn't need to be. The camera swayed to focus on me.





"Kev..."

"Nick, you realize it's two o'clock in the morning, don't you? For Christ's sake."

"K-Kev... I - I'm sorry."

I sighed, "Don't be sorry, just tell me why your calling at this God-forsaken hour, will you?"

"H-help me..." his voice was strained.

"What?"

"H-help me K-Kevin." I could hear the tears in his voice, which shook, dangerously close to breaking or to fading out. "P-please."

"What's wrong?" I switched into parental mode. I realized suddenly that, even at two o'clock in the morning, Nick never sounded like this. Even when he'd called me that night when he'd been arrested on a DWI, he still hadn't sounded like this. "Where are you, what happened?" I moved down the hallway, headed for the stairs. I was ready to grab my jacket, kick on my shoes, and head out the door to rescue him from whatever cell he'd been haucked into now.

"It hurts," he whispered. "Please."

I bounded down the steps two at a time. "What hurts, Nick? Where are you?"

"I think... I think I might be dying Kev," he sounded terrified.

"Stop that, where are you?"

"Brian..."

"You're in Atlanta?"

"He's at the airport."

"What airport? Where are you?"

"I-405."

"Southbound?" I continued my motion toward the front door and kicked my feet into my shoes, pulling open the coat closet.

"I'm sorry." His voice shattered as he started crying, deep sobs, the kind that shook a person from the depths of their internal organs. He hadn't sounded like this in a long time. "I'm sorry," he gasped. I could hear him struggling for oxygen. The gravity of the situation suddenly impressed upon me. He was in trouble. How grave of trouble, I couldn't tell, but it didn't sound good.

"Nick, calm down buddy," I said as strongly as I could manage as my nerves started to go haywire. "Think, what exit are you by?" I reached into my coat's pocket and pulled out my cell phone. My fingers flew over the keypad, dialing 911.

"Brian needs --"

"Brian's fine. I'm worried about you right now. What happened?"

"There's blood Kev... a whole lotta blood..."

"Breathe, Nick, it's gonna be okay. I'm calling 911 right now."

"I'm sorry."

"911, what is your emergency?" The woman that answered sounded tinny and far away.

Normally, I would've felt mildly ridiculous being on two phones at once, but given the circumstances... "I need to report an accident," I said into the cell phone.

"Are you at the scene?"

"No, my friend is involved, he's on my other line, he needs help. He's on I-405."

"Okay, we'll dispatch emergency personnel. Is he conscious?"

"Nick?" I asked, checking.

"I'm sorry, Kev," he whispered.

"Barely," I replied.

"Try to keep him talking until the medics arrive."

"I need to hang up so I can switch phones so I can talk to him while I get over there," I replied. "Thank you." I hung up on her before she could argue with me. "Nick," I commanded, "Nick, do you hear me?"

"K-Kev?" he sounded sleepy in a strangely faint sort of way.

"Nick, I need you to hang up with me so I can call you back on my cell phone, okay? I need to get over there to help you."

"No don't go away please," he begged.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "I'm here."

"Don't go, I don't wanna be alone."

"I'm not going, Nick. It's going to be just a second. I'll even dial before we hang up so it only is the amount of time it takes you to hit the answer button okay?"

"K-Kev, you- you're - you're like a - a dad... to me..."

"Nick, I swear to God if you start saying goodbye to me I'm going to have to kill you," I said, trying to make light of the moment. I imagined a moment in the future when I would tease him for having gotten so dramatic on me. "It's just not allowed, Carter."

"I - I really ... I look up to... you..." he was struggling with words again.

"Nick. Please, don't do this. Just let me switch phones and we'll talk and I'll get there in a few minutes and we'll work this out and get you to the hospital. There's help coming, paramedics and everything..." I laughed, though it came out more like a nervous bark than real laughter, "Maybe the ambulance driver will even flash those lights for you, huh?"

"K- Kev..."

"You're gonna be okay. Look I'm ready to go out the door, the sooner I switch lines, the sooner I can get there."

"I love ya Kev."

My throat closed up. He'd never said those words, not with the sincerity that was filling his voice at this moment. Emotion rose up in every last nerve ending of my body. I cleared my throat as best I could. "Nick..." My hands were clenching my keys so tight that I was sure it would leave a mark, my keys forever imprinted on my palm. I bit my lips, trying to hold back the worry, the fear that was creeping up my spine one vertibrae at a time. "Nick, please, just let me call you back on my cell phone, okay?"

He uttered a noise that sounded like a weak okay.

"Okay, hold on one second."

I clicked the phone off and quickly pressed the button on my cell to call his cell phone. My hands were shaking. I raised one over my mouth, a feeling of vomit rising in my throat. I plowed my way out the front door, not even bothering to leave a note for Kris, my mind focused only on getting to Nick.

The phone rang... and rang.

But he never picked up.





"What did he say?" Anna Bernard repeated.

I looked up from my hands where I'd been staring as the conversation had repeated in my mind from start to finish. I swallowed, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest I was surprised the other fellas couldn't hear it, surprised it wasn't echoing in the studio like a pendulum.

"He said goodbye."

Seeing Kevin fall apart was disturbing. I'd always thought of Kev as the strong one of us, the dependable one. Fuck, he'd all but raised Nick and I. I dropped a nervous hand on his back. Even years of being a father to a daddy's-girl hadn't given me the balls to deal with a crying Kevin. His tears spilled between the gaps in his fingers and I felt my stomach start doing somersaults. It was serious shit when Kev cried.

The audience let out a gasp that echoed through the hollow studio and I turned, looking over Brian's hunkered down form, at the video screen that hung behind us. Photographs taken for the police report that night filled the screen. Nick's sleek white Escalade had hydroplaned, they said, hit the K-rail, and flipped over the top of it into the northbound side of I-405 on it's roof. It had skid into the center of the four lanes of traffic and been hit in the passanger side by a UPS truck, which sent it back into the K-rail nose-first, where it had come to a stop. Nick had undone his seat belt - a detail that the medics later said was probably the mistake that had ultimately cost his life - and landed on the roof of the car, where he'd been laying when the paramedics arrived.

The UPS delivery man, a guy named Carl Lopez, walked away unscratched. A detail that was both happy and mind-numbingly painful to think about.

Brian turned and looked up at the picture, then turned away again quickly.

The pictures of Nick's car faded into one another slowly, followed by images of the papers announcing the wreck, and those telling the tale of Nick's month-long comatose state. A chilling-to-the-bone image faded into focus on the screen of him laying in a hospital bed. The focus was close on his face, his eyes closed and features peaceful as he lay there. I knew the picture well. It had plastered the TV screen and newspapers for months on end - the last picture of Nick Carter. The picture was featured on the cover of People magazine in this particular shot of it, with the headlin below it in dark blue font reading "The Battle for the Power of Attourney comes to a shocking end". A picture of Nick's mom, Jane, and one of his father, Bob, book-ended the cover, neither person looking anything less than pissed off.

"Let's talk about the custody battle for a moment," Anna Bernard suggested. "What happened exactly?"

"Like there's any details that wasn't on the cover of every fuckin' magazine in the country," I snapped.

Anna's eyes shifted to me and I wished to God I'd kept my mouth shut. It was a good thing I'd had going, staying out of her focus - why hadn't I been smart enough to keep it that way? "Were there any details kept off the cover of every magazine in the country?" she asked, editing my strong language. I could almost picture Calliopie, whose tone was always disapproving when I spoke strongly, shaking her head as she watched this on TV.

"Well nobody ever really had the balls to say that his mum's a douchebag, but other than that..." I shrugged.

"Jay..." Brian's voice wasn't even strong enough to really call it a defense for Jane's name, more a disapproval for my choice to continue on with the strong words. He was probably picturing Baylee's kids watching the appearance on TV or something.

"Well it's true."

"So why was there a battle to begin with?" Anna Bernard questioned, "Wasn't there an appointment of power of attourney in his will?"

"He didn't have a will," Howie replied, "At least not a verified one."

"It wasn't a legal document, persay," Kevin clarified, piping back up, "See, he wrote some stuff in his journal."

"Diary," I corrected out of habit. Nick and I had dueled verbally many a time over whether the leather covered sketchbook that he scribbled doodles, notes, and long critiques of his day in was a journal or a diary. I hadn't meant to be annoying, but I could tell by the look on Kevin's face that my persistence of the matter was anything but welcomed, though.

Anna Bernard raised an eyebrow.

"I had posession of the journal," Kevin said slowly, "When Jane and Bob started heading off on the matter, I went and got the journal from Nick's condo, hoping to settle matters and... well, as you know I only managed to complicate things."

Complicate was an understatement - the understatement of the goddamned century, to be certain.





"Are you sure you're okay to go in alone?" Rochelle asked. Our car was idling in the fire lane out front of the visitor's entrance of the hospital. I stared out the window at the ornate front doors. I could already smell the old people and the vomit and the cleaning product mixture that I had come to equate with the interiors of hospitals. As I watched a weak looking woman walked down the steps with a man that clung too protectively to her to be anything shy of her husband. Her head was bald, clearly from Chemotherapy treatments. Her hands shook as she held onto his arm. I hated hospitals. "Let's park, I'll come in with you."

I nodded.

Rochelle drove around the semi-circular drive to the parking garage and up three levels before she found a space. She had to pull forward and back up about eight times before she got the car into the tiny space, but she'd finally managed it, and we crawled out the car. I appreciated the fact that Ro-Ro slid her hand in mine as we walked, and I instinctively wriggled my fingers against her wedding ring, reassuring myself that she was there, that she was mine, that we were us. It was easy to forget shit like that when you're at a place like this for a reason like we were.

"Are you scared?" Ro asked as we walked. Her shoes echoed on the cement.

"To fuckin' death," I answered bluntly.

"Me too," she admitted. She squeezed my hand reassuringly.

Just as I'd suspected, the hospital smelled like its usual self. We passed about ten people with ailments that frightened the crap out of me on the way through the main lobby - one of them was a four year old kid with a cast on his arm that was almost as big as he was - and I chose to divert my attention to the bright red of Rochelle's lips as they moved, asking the receptionist the way to the Intensive Care Unit, informing her that we were there to visit Nick. The woman had given us directions and Ro led me away from her desk, toward the bay of elevators.

I felt a bit like a child. I usually did in places like hospitals, though. Something about them just takes away my manhood. I feel tiny and helpless. I always have.

In the elevator, Rochelle leaned against the wall opposite of me and stared at me. She sighed, "AJ..." her voice was full of a heaviness that told me that what she was about to say was A) hard for her to say, and B) something that I probably didn't really want to hear. "Monkee," she added, trying to soften the blow - something that confirmed both points A and B in my mind.

"If this is gonna be some pep talk," I said stubbornly, "I don't wanna hear it. Alls I want to hear is that Nick's going to be fine, okay? that's it. That's all I wanna hear. That's all I'll accept right now."

"So Nick's going to be fine," Ro said flatly.

"Don't patronize me."

"Hear me out, Alex," she requested, her level voice pleading. "Just listen a second okay? If something happens --" I winced. "-- I'm not saying it will but if something, God-forbid-it, happens, I just need you to promise me that you're going to stay with me."

My eyes met hers. She had foregone her usual layers of mascara and eyeliner today. Her eyes were just her eyes, and as sexy as she looked all made up I have to admit that there was something super sexy and appealing about the sheer vulnerability that was her eyes in the raw. I shook my head, "Wild horses couldn't drag me off from you, Monkee," I said.

"I don't mean divorce," she said slowly, "I mean, don't relapse, don't go back to drugs or drinking. Please. Nick wouldn't want that."

It was like she'd been reading my mind before. I'd been just thinking how grand a couple shots of Jack would've been to lighten the pressure in my chest before going in the ICU.

I nodded. "I'll stay clean." Even as I said the words though I wondered if I'd be able to keep that promise, if, in the heat of it, those words would mean anything to me other than an innane babbling.

"Thank you," she said as the elevator doors dinged open.

Normally, there might be some question about whether we were in the right place or not when the doors opened. I mean neither of us knew our way around in that hospital for jackshit, and every floor looked identical in these type places, but the moment the doors opened, Jane Carter had come hurtling in the door, her face red in blotchy patches, steam practically rising from her ears. She slammed the heel of her hand into the lobby button and glowered at me. "AJ," she said, her voice sharp, "I suppose you're here to fucking back up Kevin in his ridiculous claims?"

I blinked in surprise and Rochelle raised her eyebrow, looking at me over Jane's shoulder.

"I - I dunno," I stammered. "I didn't know Kevin was here," I added.

But I don't think Jane even heard me. She was fuming, practically foaming at the mouth. "He thinks Nick would've wanted us to give up," she spat, "Would've wanted us to let him go, like he's some sort of god that can decide such things." Jane turned to pace and walked into Rochelle. She gave her a once-over, which ended with a disapproving air, and turned back to me. "Is this your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Wife," I answered.

Rochelle crossed the width of the elevator and slid her hand into mine.

Jane turned away.

"I'm his mother for Christ's sake, does that count for nothing?"

Nick's annoyance with Jane had never been that big a mystery to me. Jane had always been one of those people that grated on my last nerve, like the way I pictured one of those training whistles to grate on a St. Bernard's last nerves. "It's not like he's a nothing, not like he's a nobody, not like he's some hobo off the street that nobody gives a damn about," she plowed on, her voice rising and falling with a passionate anger. "He's my son, goddamnit."

I felt like pointing out that she only ever referred to him as that when it benefitted her. Otherwise, he was just shit under her feet. That's how it had always been. It kind of pissed me off that she was here at all.

The elevator dinged on the lobby floor again and Jane looked at me with heated eyes as the doors slid open. She stepped up closer to me, stuck her finger in my face, and said, in a low and threatening voice, "And I plan to do whatever it takes to make sure that I get my way in this matter." With that, she stormed out of the elevator.

"Well that was... intense..." Rochelle commented when the doors closed again.

"Yeah," I nodded in agreement, "Ridiculously so."





"So what did the journal say?" Anna Bernard questioned, her eyes locked on Kevin.

"Well Nick had spent a lot of time thinking about things like what if's and all that and one of the things that he'd detailed was what he wanted if something happened to him," Kevin explained. "Nick had told me once, a long time ago, where he'd kept these things written so that someone knew, so when the issue came up... Well, I knew what I was looking for, you know?" Kev sighed. "But it wasn't a legally verified document, so the state wouldn't accept it as sufficient proof of Nick's wishes."

"So the legal battle began."

Howie piped up, "Nick was all but the poster child for getting a will professionally drawn up, even if you don't think you need one." He smiled sadly.

I looked at Brian. Brian was still doubled over, still crying. I patted his back and he glanced over at me, misery and guilt etched into every line on his wrinkled face. He shuddered with a deep breath.

Having takn the floor, Howie continued, "Jane and Bob each wanted custody. Jane wanted to keep him on life support indefinitely and Bob wanted to pull the plug and have him creamated when Nick had clearly written that he wanted to be buried..."

"At sea," Kevin injected.

"Typical Nick," hiccuped Brian from his bent-forward position. "Buried at sea. G'Lord."

"So how did Nick end up cryrogenetically frozen?"

"It was the compromise, of sorts," Kevin explained, "Traditionally, cryronics was used to preserve a person's body who was dying of an incurable disease in the hopes that science of the future would find a cure and be able to heal them and restore their life. Basically, cryronics is where they freeze the body to negative 320 degrees farenheit. Body cells stop functioning at that temperature, so if they're suspended like that in liquid nitrogen, they stay preserved, just like they were at the time of the freezing. It's like stopping time, in a sense. So the hope is that they'll be awakened when their medical issues can be cured and they'll be able to live a normal life. In Nick's case, he had already... passed away. People thought Jane was crazy for wanting to preserve him like that. Which she was, really, but I guess she had more faith in science and medicine than the rest of us ever dreamed. I mean Miracle is...well, a miracle."

"I think she just wanted to use Nick's DNA, sell it on fucking eBay or something," I said, rolling my eyes, "Sick, twisted bitch just wanted to keep making money off him, even if he was nothing but a fucking corpse. Why the hell would she care if he's stuck in a bottle of whatever-the-fuck like a goddamn 14-year old's biology lab frog? It's not like she ever gave a fuck what he wanted before, why would she once he was dead?"

Nobody bothered to reprimand me.

"So when Nick died, he was added to a list of over 200 people to be cryrogenetically frozen, suspended in liquid nitrogen," Anna Bernard summarized, "In hopes that one day science would find a way to heal the incurable... heal even death."

Kevin nodded. "Which, at the time was entirely ridiculous... but now... with Miracle..." he took a deep breath. "Well." He looked nervous. "I guess we'll see just how ridiculous it really is, won't we?"

Miracle was discovered on my birthday.

The scientist who discovered the thing outright admitted that it was by sheer kismet that he discovered the secret to restarting the heart. He'd been testing the side effects of a new anesthetic, trying to find the lethal threshold in the lab rats. Now, I myself am completely not okay with the idea that they were purposely trying to kill a lab rat - and believe you me, neither was PETA or any of the other Animals Rights Activists that heard about it. The scientist had administered the drug, found the point when the rat went to sleep and carefully, slowly, injected more of the drug in increments so small that the scientist had been using thousandths of a milileter to describe how much at a time h was pushing. The rat's heart stopped and the scientist declared him dead. But - and heres' the part where the miracle occurred - the scientist's hand slipped when he went to remove the needle from the dead rat specimen, and the pressure that he'd applied to the needle by accident was enough to pump the rest of the drug into the rat's veins. Angry that he'd wasted the remainder of the test substance, the scientist had scooped up the rat and tossed it into the trash bin under his lab table and angrily grunted and growled for several moments before he heard the scratching and eeping that was coming out of the dust bin. When he looked inside, there was the rat... alive and well.

Certain there'd been a mistake - after all, the rat had been declared dead more than half an injection prior to the final dosage amount - the scientist obtained another rat and pushed the same amount of the drug into it and procured the same results. The drug was capable of stopping the heart in low to mid-range doses, and restarting it with a high dosage.

And thus, Miracle was born.

Needless to say I was pretty certain we knew who was going to win the next Nobel Peace Prize.

"I know how Brian feels about Miracle," Anna Bernard said, her eyes sweeping across AJ, Kevin, and myself, "But how about the rest of you? How do you feel about the possibility, AJ?"

AJ's attention was focused on Brian still, who looked like he was about to heave. He looked up and shrugged, "I wish we'd known about it sooner, I mean there's a shit ton of people I would've liked to preserve. But at the same time it kind of is scary as hell. I mean, I sure as fuck wouldn't want to be resurrected after I bit it."

Kevin nodded, "I must say I agree with AJ... I woudn't want that hanging over my head, that my eternal peace could be interrupted at some point by someone... It's a bit ominous."

"Howie? How do you feel about it?" Anna Bernard focused on me.

I licked my lips, "Well, honestly, it kind of... excites me," I answered. All three of the fellas heads snapped my direction. Brian's brow was furrowed in concern. "Well I mean if it's used right, in the proper situations... I mean obviously it's a tad annoying if you're a hundred and six and they just can't stop reviving you with this miracle drug... but I think in the proper place it could be used for good."

"Is there ever a proper time and place to be playing God?" Brian demanded.

"What if it was a child?" I asked, "Or someone on the donor list for a new organ who just needs to hang on those few more moments? Someone on the table during a surgery?" I shrugged, "Nick's situation."

"You call Nick's situation proper?" Brian snapped.

The question of the moral standings of Miracle had certainly been a hot debate. Many of the foreign countries - especially those in Asia - were so opposed to it that they'd threatened to cut off the American trade system as retribution for using the drug. The world had gone haywire when they'd first announced that they'd successfully awoken the first human with it - a little girl who had been killed in a freak accident falling off some playground equipment. The girl had bled out and her heart had stopped and her heart broken parents had signed the permission form for the hospital to repair the damage and attempt to awaken her with Miracle, with the understanding that they would be paying out the wahzoo for such services whether their daughter came back from the dead or not.

Seventy-two hours later, the couple had left the hospital admist a storm of journalists, the six year old, Maya, clinging to her daddy's hip like a koala bear, a giant pink bandage stuck to her forehead the only sign that she'd been injured at all.

"Dude, you know how into this Nick would be if he was awake?" I said to Brian's turned back. "He'd be all over this. You know he would."

"For situations like Maya, yes, that makes sense," Brian replied, "But situation's like Nick's is just cruel."

"I literally cannot understand how you think waking Nick up could possibly be cruel," I said.

"He's been dead thirty-eight years, can you even imagine the kind of hell he's going to wake up to? Thirty-eight years, Howie. And he hasn't aged a day but every single one of his friends and family have aged all this time. He's alone. Alone."

"It's better than dead, isn't it?" I asked.

"Depends on who you're asking," Brian responded.

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was crossing the line as I said, "Just because you've lived like a hermit for 38 years and been depressed about it, doesn't mean that Nick will choose the same existence."

Brian's eyes flashed. He turned away. AJ raised an eyebrow my direction and Kevin let out a long, low sigh.

I knew it wasn't fair. It wasn't like Brian had asked to feel the way he did about Nick's death. It was so unreasonable, though. The report had finally come out, saying that Nick's accident wasn't to be blame upon drunk driving, but more than likely he'd hydroplaned on a wet highway because he'd been speeding. Brian had equated Nick speeding with Nick trying to get to the airport to pick him up.

Brian had blamed himself.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," I apologized.

"Damn staight," AJ muttered.

Brian shook his head, "Don't worry about it, D."

I took a deep breath, "It's impossible to say what Nick would think of this all anyways," I said, "Whether he'd be happy to be awakened or freaked out by the thought. And it doesn't matter because even if we knew...even if Nick somehow had premonition that the world would come to this nearly 40 years later and wrote it in his little journal thing --"

"Diary," AJ injected. Kevin glared and AJ seemed to shrink in size by a couple inches.

"-- it still wouldn't be enough to stop Jane," I concluded. "They've already started the process of raising his body temperature, they're doing the injection tonight."

Brian stared at his hands.

"Which brings us full circle," declared Anna Bernard in a regal manner, "Do you Boys plan to be there when he wakes up? Will there be a hospital beside Backstreet Boys reunion?" Her eyes darted between me and AJ like a ping-pong ball.

"Of course we're gonna be there," AJ snapped, "Why the fuck wouldn't we be there? He's only coming back from the goddamned dead."

Kevin nudged AJ.

"Well he is," AJ muttered.

"It'll be easier for him to understand and accept if there are friends close by," Kevin said quietly, "People he remembers and cares about."

"And I need to hear it," Brian said suddenly, "From him. That it's not my fault he's dead."

"I think what AJ basically meant was that he was going to be there," I said slowly, "And if that's the case... then I gotta say that I most definitely agree. We'll be there."





It was 8:27 PM.

We were sitting around a waiting room, watching the rerun of the Anna Bernard show on the TV. Brian was rocking himself gently, rolling his weight on the ball of his foot as he moved in the chair. AJ was sitting on the floor playing with an old Boggle game, trying to make every direction spell out a word at the same time. Kevin was pacing. I was staring at the same page of a newspaper as I had been for the past hour, not really reading it but lost in thought.

The door to the waiting room opened and Jane stood there, silhouetted by the florescent lights of the hallway in a start contrast to the softer glow of table lamps in the private waiting room we'd commandeered. She surveyed us, her eyes travelling across our faces slowly. Her eyes locked with mine.

"He's awake."

I inhaled sharply, the air filling my lungs felt painful. The room was too white. A flash of memory rushed through my head and I reached for my face, my hands shaking, expecting to pull away with sticky blood all over them. There was no blood, there was no painful cuts and scabs and bruises. I was completely in one piece. My heart started slamming in my chest. This is it, this is what Heaven was like. I'd always thought I'd die and go to Hell but apparently I was being extra good when I flipped the Escalade because I'd somehow gone from the front seat of that car to the whitest white room I'd ever seen and -- yes, I see it, there's the proverbial light. I reached my hand up toward the brilliant glow of the light that loomed over my head.

A hand grabbed hold of my wrist. "Don't strain yourself," said a gentle voice.

"Angel?" I asked. She had to be an angel... I was sure of it.... Miraculous healing, bright lights... white everywhere... Angels was the only thing left. Well that and a big pearly gate but the angel was probably about to bring me there.

My eyes swivelled to catch sight of her.

It was my mother.

At my bedside.

Fuck... I did go to Hell after all.

"Welcome back, Nick," came a second voice, from my other side.

"God?" I whispered. My eyes swivelled yet again. This time, they landed on a tall, Middle Eastern man, who was probably only a little older than me, with a kind face and big thick black glasses. Okay, so maybe not God. Mohammad? I wondered if I'd get seventy virgins. Maybe I was in Heaven after all. Unless my mom was one of them. Then we'd be back in Hell again.

His face smiled pleasantly. That's a good sign. God-slash-Mohammad was not pissed at me. I was doing okay for myself in this whole afterlife thing.

"My name is Doctor Xu Kim," he said, "And I've been the physician treating you for the last six years."

My brain activity must've come to a screeching halt.

"Mohammad say what?"

Dr. Xu Kim rested a hand on my forearm, "Mr. Carter, I'm afraid we have a lot of catching up to do."





"Last week, we had some amazing guests on the show, and now they're back to visit us again -- after thirty-eight years apart, reunited again through the incredible scientific discovery that is Miracle --" Anna Bernard's voice rang clear through the studio, "Please put your hands together and welcome back... all five... of the Backstreet Boys!"

I bounded out onto the stage full of energy, ready to bring down the house as Backstreet's Back echoed through the sound system, my feet barely touching the ground. The women in the audience were all... well, old. I stood at the edge of the stage, blinking out past the lights at them and wondered where all the sexy ladies had gone. Oh yeah. Age. Crap.

I turned around, expecting to see the other fellas beside me, but they were still dragging their geriatric selves up the aisle toward the stage. I felt sick.

Anna Bernard was smiling at me. I didn't really know who she was other than from watching the repeat of the episode from last week when the fellas were on it. Dr. Xu Kim had TiVo'ed it because he thought it would be good for me to see. Everything seemed so surreal, like something out of a movie or one of those fan stories - fan fiction or whatever they call it. Well I guess now it'd be called, huh? I bounced over to Anna Bernard and shook her hand, more because I needed to do something to distract my thoughts than anything else.

"Welcome, Nick, welcome," she greeted me. She waved a hand to the purple couch. I flopped onto it. The fellas were just now getting over there, Brian's hand just now meeting up with Anna Bernard's. He sat down next to me, slowly and precisely, his hands on his knees like brace support. I stared at him.

His bald spot was hardly a spot anymore.

Brian smiled at me. "You look like a deer in headlights," he murmured as AJ, Howie, and Kevin all greeted Anna Bernard.

"It's still all...fucky," I responded, shaking my head.

Brian pet my knee. "Brave.... You are, that is," he said.

"Thanks Yoda," I muttered. My eyes caught Kevin's. He looked like Santa Claus or something with all the thick fuzzy white hair around his chin and eyes.

"So Nick," Anna Bernard cut in, "How does it feel to be the third person resurrected with the Miracle drug?"

I turned and looked at her for a long moment, "I was third?" I looked back at the guys, "Dude... you guys let me be all Han Solo long enough to let two other people give this a shot before I got to go? Jeez..."

"Well we got some calls from a couple high schools wanting to let ninth graders dissect you so we weren't sure which would be a better offer," AJ joked. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Are you thankful for your second chance at life, Nick?" Anna Bernard questioned.

I turned to look at her. "Yeah, of course."

She leaned forward. I could tell my answers weren't really satisfying her, but I couldn't help it. I didn't really know what to say.

What happened hadn't felt like anything particularly miraculous to me. I'd been asleep and I woke up and suddenly everything and everyone that I'd ever known had completely changed overnight. It felt more like a cruel joke or an unending nightmare than a miracle.

"How did they tell you about the passing of thirty-eight years?" Anna asked.

"Well my doctor, he just started out by explaining how cryrogenics work basically, then explained about this drug they were researching to reverse heart failure and stuff..." I shrugged, "Then he basically just laid it on me that I'd been in an accident and died and that it was thirty eight years later."

Anna leaned back, a look of incredulousness on her face. She shook her head, as though trying to compute the words I'd just said.

I think that had to be the weirdest part, the way people were looking at me, the way people were interested in me. I mean yeah I was used to it to a certain extent, I mean the last I remembered I was still famous and all that but it had been years since I'd had a caravan of paparazzi looking for pictures of me, and I'd never been harassed by national news networks before. It had taken me the better part of an hour to get down the hospital steps the day that I left. They'd been everywhere, shouting questions, wanting to know everything - just as Anna Bernard wanted to know now.

It was like waking up in the middle of an episode of the freaking Twilight Zone.

Everything has kind of become like an episode of the Twilight Zone, really, I thought, looking at Brian and the wrinkles around his eyes. It still seemed like it was yesterday that I'd said bye to Lauren, jumped in the Escalade, and headed off to LAX to pick Brian up. We'd been going to go to rehearsal for the NKOTBSB tour that week. Brian was gonna stay with me.

But it'd been thirty-eight years.

Anna Bernard continued interrogating us. When the show was over, she bade farewell to the viewers and thanked the studio audience, promising them each a copy of some greatest hits compilation of our music that I'd never seen before. We stopped and signed a few copies of it for fans on the way out, thanked them for coming, and made our way backstage to the green room. I grabbed a handful of M&Ms from a bowl on a table and tossed them back while the other guys found themselves seats around the room. Kevin lowered into his with a groan, holding his back.

I stared around at them, at their oldness. I felt like a scrooge being all young still. I ran my hands over my arms, arming a sudden chill that had overtaken me from the inside.

I drew a deep, shaking breath. "I- just want to- um - ...." I paused. "...I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"Sorry?" Howie snorted, "Sorry for what, Carter?"

I couldn't quite put words to what I was feeling. I shrugged, "I dunno. Everything."

"For being a youngin' while the rest of us are older than dirt?" AJ asked.

"Something like that," I said.

Kevin laughed, "Oh Nick. Are you seriously apologizing for dying?"

A lump rose up in my throat, "Well - kinda."

"If anything," Brian's words were thick and I could tell there was a wall of emotion bigger than the Great Wall of China backing the words, "We should be apologizing to you."

"For what? Dude, I was dead," I laughed.

Brian's eyes met mine. "Nick, for thirty-eight years I've felt guilty... for yelling at you for being late coming to pick me up..." The blue of Brian's pupils glistened. His lower jaw trembled.

"Aw Frick," I shook my head, "No, don't feel guilty."

"You got in that accident because you were speeding," he said, voice shaking.

"Dude, you know I always speed in the car," I said, my throat closing up, "You yell at me all the time for that..."

Brian struggled to his feet and crossed the room, wrapped his arms tightly around me, and I felt his tears on my shoulder as he pressed his face against me. I patted his back.

"Well I guess you finally get that solo career you've always wanted," Kevin joked, smirking.

I looked over at him as Brian backed out of the man-hug and ran his hands over his eyes.

I laughed. But only weakly. "What about a BSB reunion tour?"

"There's no way in hell I'm touring again with my joints the way they are," Kevin laughed.

"Aw c'mon Kev, nobody will notice the difference. You dance like a geezer anyways," I teased.

"Even so..." he smiled.

I looked down at my feet. Then back up at the guys. The wrinkles at the corners of their eyes scared me. One day there would come a time when all four of them would be gone - gone from old age. And me, well. I'd be maybe just turning forty by then. I'd always been the youngest in the band but now... now any one of them was old enough to be my dad. Literally. Maybe even my grandfather in Kevin's case.

One day, I'd be alone.

I sat down and closed my eyes.

Everything as I'd known it was altered irrevokably.

"What about you guys, what are you gonna do?" I asked.

"Go revise our wills to state we wanna be cryrogenetically frozen until such a time as they figure out how to rerverse aging?" AJ joked.

"Reverse aging, huh?" I laughed.

"Sure," AJ smirked, "You know, get rid of those crows feet around Howie's face, make Kev's joints move without cracking, make Brian's bald spot a spot again... give us all some boners, I'm pretty sure it's been awhile since that happened..." He laughed.

"Now that would be a miracle," I quipped.

"Indeed it would," AJ replied, the laugh lines around his mouth deepening, "Indeed, it would."