Chapter One"I want a black mask that’ll cover my face," Justin told the doctor. Ever since he woke up, no one except the doctors and nurses had been allowed to see his face. If he did have to come in contact with the guys, Britney, his family, or anyone else, he had a blanket tossed over his head.
"I’m sure that can be arranged, Justin," Dr. Malcolm told him. "Have you decided what you’re going to do about your career?"
"NSYNC is over," Justin said simply. "Or they’re going on without me. I’m never going to sing again. I can’t. And no one will ever see my face again. It’s too hideous to subject people to it."
"It’s not that bad, Justin. You’ll always have the scars, but they can be improved, and over time, you’ll forget all about them."
Justin looked at the doctor, bitterness evident in his eyes. "Doc, I was once one of the best-looking people in the world. Women worshipped me. And now, I’ve been reduced to a mass of scars."
"Justin, the scars are only on your face and other than the changing of your voice, nothing is wrong with you. Be happy about that. You could be reduced to a wheelchair, or worse yet, dead."
"I rather would be dead. I’m nothing now. Nothing. Do you hear me?" Justin screamed. "Nothing!"
"Calm down, Justin. Everything’ll be fine."
"No, nothing’s ever going to be fine. I am nothing now." Justin laid on the bed and rolled over, so his back was to the doctor. "Ugly, ugly, ugly. That’s all I am."
The doctor walked out of the room, and looked at the nurse who was standing right outside the door. "I would recommend counseling for him, if he’ll accept it. He needs to stop thinking that he’s worth nothing just because his face his scared."
~~~
"Hey Justin," Chris Kirkpatrick said, bouncing in the room. "We’re here to talk."
"I know," Justin said, his voice muffled and his face hidden by the blanket he had thrown over his head. "I’m never going to sing again, so I don’t see why we’re having this discussion."
"You can get your voice back," Lance Bass said.
"It doesn’t matter. I’m always going to have the scars, so even if I do get my voice back, I still won’t sing ever again."
"Justin, you just can’t give up on singing," JC Chasez said.
"You guys can continue *NSync without me, but as of now, I am no longer part of it."
The four guys looked at each other in silence. Finally, Joey Fatone spoke up. "It wouldn’t be the same without you, so I guess this is it."
"What are you going to do, Justin?" Lance asked.
"I’m moving to Europe," Justin said shortly. "In a villa a real estate agent found for me. It’s in the middle of nowhere, where I can live in peace." His last words, left unspoken, echoed in the room. And not see anyone, ever again.
"What are you going to do about food, clothes, all of those things?"
"Food and everything I need to live will be delivered once a month, clothes every two; anything else, whenever I order it."
"Won’t you miss the social interaction?" Joey asked.
"I’m a freak," Justin said. "No one would want to be around me."
"Justin, it’s-" Lance began.
"No, it’s not fucking okay. I’m a fucking freak. I went from being ‘pretty boy’ Justin Timberlake to being ‘freak of nature’ Justin Timberlake." He breathed deeply to calm himself. "I am not me, I’m some ugly creature that doesn’t deserve to be around people."
"Justin, you’re view of yourself as a freak isn’t healthy. You’re not different just because you have a few scars," Lance told him.
"A few fucking scars, Lance? No. I’ve got fucking hideous lines running all over my face. Even when I do get the black mask I ordered, you’ll still be able to see them, because they cross my lips. I’m a freak, Lance. A freak. Why the hell don’t all of you leave? I know you don’t want to spend time with a freak."
"Justin, stop it," JC said. "Just because you have scars doesn’t change the fact that you’re still Justin Timberlake and one of our best friends."
"Yes it does," Justin yelled. "I’m not Justin Timberlake, teenage heartthrob anymore. I’m ugly."
"Oh please, Justin, you couldn’t be ugly if you tried," JC told him.
"The fans would hate me."
"Justin, that’s bullshit," Chris growled. "Ever since the news of the car accident was released, we’ve gotten more fan mail, hell, we’ve got more fans. People are standing right outside the hospital, in the rain. They love you Justin."
"They might now, but if they ever saw my face, they won’t."
"Justin, you’re being a little baby about this," JC told him.
Justin started to lung for JC, but the blanket started to slip, so he sat back down. "Go to hell, JC. It’s not like your fans will ever hate you. You’re fucking perfect."
"They’d probably hate me more than they’d ever hate you, Justin." JC leaned closer to him, looking at the blanket right where Justin’s eyes would me. "What you said about me that night, about me being a fag, is true. I’m gay, Justin. And some of my fans would absolutely hate me for that. So don’t give me any shit about me being perfect or my fans not hating me."
The room was silent. Everyone stared at JC.
"Damn," Chris finally said, pulling a twenty out of his wallet. He handed it to Joey. "You just had to come out now, JC," he complained.
"You knew?" he asked, shocked. "And you don’t hate me or anything?"
"We suspected," Joey said. "And why would we hate you? It’s not like you’re someone new."
Chris looked at JC, then Lance, then back to JC. JC flushed. "How do you feel about it, Justin?" Chris asked.
"Oh my god, Jace, I’m so sorry I said that," Justin whispered. "I fucking deserve this."
"Justin, you don’t-" JC exploded.
Chris interrupted him. "Jace, calm down. Let’s go, and give Justin some time to think." He dragged JC from the room. Once outside, he looked at JC. "He isn’t going to believe us or accept anything we say. Just give him time."
Joey walked out then.
"Where’s Lance?" JC asked.
"He’s still in there," Joey said. "He said he needed to talk to Justin."