--- part two --

As expected, the flight next morning was indeed an early one. Abbey was grateful that she didn't have a lot to carry; her cameras went along, but she didn't have to take clothes this time. She was amused that here, as at the studio, she had to have a security pass -- this one in the form of a traditional backstage pass with a lanyard -- to get past the fans who had somehow managed to find out about the group's imminent departure. She was far from the only one there; several other crew members, band members, and such had already arrived when she got to the departure gate forty minutes before the plane was scheduled to leave. The fans were there, too, cordoned into a waiting area by airport security. Feeling odd at the murmurs that rose from them when she arrived, she sat down to wait.

Johnny had mentioned that the guys would have to come in close to departure time, to minimize the amount of time spent in the public. Naturally, they had to then circumvent that by showing up early. Gasps of surprise from the fans -- roped safely behind lines -- heralded their arrival, and Abbey turned in her seat, looking up from her paperback to see burly bodyguards surrounding a small group of people. As they approached the gate, she recognized four of the guys -- Justin, Chris, Joey, and Lance -- along with people who must be various family members. That was sweet, she thought, a nice reminder that despite their pop star status, they were still kids (well, mostly) with families who cared about them.

Chris, the only one of them that she'd not seen with any family around, plopped down in the seat on her left, yawning. "Morning."

"Awake yet?" she asked with a smile.

"Nope, an' I'm sleeping all the way to Laguardia. Wake me when we get there?"

"Sure." She glanced around to see if he had brought Busta, but there weren't any pet carriers in evidence. "Is Busta coming?"

"Oh, yeah. I had to check him in with the luggage."

"Poor little guy," Abbey said sympathetically.

Chris gave a dramatic sniff to emphasize his distraught state over having to say farewell to Busta before arranging his coat over himself. An early-morning chill pervaded the terminal, and Abbey eyed Chris's warm coat enviously, knowing well that Manhattan would be even colder. Glancing around, she tried to locate the others.

Lance stood about ten feet away, two large bags at his feet. With him was a pleasant-looking auburn-haired woman who, Abbey thought, must be his mom; there was enough of a family resemblance in their faces, which was shared as well with a young brunette standing by them. His sister, if I remember the press stuff right. Justin sat in a nearby chair, talking softly with his mother and stepfather; next to them, Joey and his parents took up three seats. The older couple looked both proud and sad as they exchanged quiet farewells with their son.

Only J.C. was not yet present. Abbey looked over at Chris, about to ask him where the last member of the group might be, but she saw that Chris's eyes were closed now. He'd snuggled up on the seat in rather an adorable way, managing somehow to make the molded plastic look comfortable. She smiled softly at him before returning to her book.

"Hey."

Somehow, Abbey wasn't surprised, when she raised her eyes again, to see that Justin now occupied the seat to her right. She gave him a quick, terse smile, replied, "Morning," and went back to her reading.

"What'cha reading?"

She suppressed a sigh. "P. J. O'Rourke. Political humor, social commentary, more or less," she added when Justin's normally animated face went briefly blank.

"Oh. Any good?"

Abbey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yep, that's why I'm reading it," she said wryly. Looking back at her page, she attempted to relocate her place.

Suddenly, the book was plucked out of her hands. Abbey glared at Justin, who was holding it in his lap, her place marked with one finger. "You have lots of time to read on the plane. Come on, Abbey, I just want to talk to you."

His tone was wheedling; Abbey felt her resistance begin to crumble. "Fine," she sighed, folding her arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How old are you?"

"What is this, 20 Questions?" she asked in return, surprised at his question.

"Animal, mineral, or vegetable?" Chris mumbled, and Abbey chuckled.

"Go back to sleep, Chris."

"Okay." His tone was amiable, amenable.

"Seriously." Justin leaned one arm on the back of the chair, letting the book hang from his hand. "You know all kinds of stuff about us, and we don't know anything about you." He fought to squash the jealousy that flared at her affectionate smile and chuckle for Chris; mostly, he succeeded.

"Well, the only reason I know anything about you is because I read the press releases Jive gave me," Abbey replied, keeping her voice low in deference to Chris. "Trust me, there's nothing about me that you need to know."

"Sure there is." Justin's eyes gleamed, his tone becoming persuasive. "Look, we're going to be spending a lot of time together on tour, right? And there has to be trust between the photographer and the subjects, right?"

"Well--" Abbey began, but got no further.

"So, if we're gonna trust you, it'll help a lot if we know something about you. Like, if we hang out and stuff, have a better working relationship, you know what I'm sayin'?"

Yeah, it's a load of horseshit. Still, she had to admit that he could be convincing when he wanted. "Fine," she said, tone edging into curtness. "I'm twenty-two, born and raised in New York, I take pictures for a living, I'm five foot six and my weight isn't up for disclosure. My favorite band is Led Zeppelin and my favorite color is hunter green. Now can I have my book back?"

"Sure." His tone was deceptively innocent. Abbey reached for the novel, almost unsurprised when he pulled it out of her grasp at the last moment.

"Very funny. Give."

"Come and get it." Justin got up, taking several steps away from their seats.

Abbey crossed her arms, letting out an audible sigh this time. If there was one thing she hated, it was behavior like this, and she refused to be goaded. Muffled laughter sounded next to her; she glanced over to see Chris's eyes gleaming above the collar of his coat. Obviously, his attempts at napping had failed.

"Think anyone would mind if I killed him?" she murmured.

Chris buried his face in his coat. "Don't do it in front of me, I can't stand blood."

When Justin saw that Abbey wasn't going to chase him, he brought the book back, slumping into the seat with a disgusted look on his face.

"Thank you, Justin," Abbey said sweetly.

"You're no fun," he muttered.

"See, now you've learned something else about me."

"That's right, he can be taught!" Fortunately, before Justin could start beating Chris up for that remark, the first announcement to board the plane came over the PA. Since the band members all had first class seats, that meant that they would be boarded before the other passengers. J.C. arrived just as they were all getting their tickets from Johnny, who then came over to Abbey to give her hers.

"I'm in first class?" she asked, surprised.

"I figured it was only fair, since this is your second flight in, what, four days? I hope you don't mind having to sit with this bunch of loons," he added, glancing at the guys.

"No, not at all." She smiled, inwardly delighted, as she picked up her bag and headed towards the door.

---

Though the flight was long, it was not without its moments. The guys gradually became more animated as time passed, breakfast was served, and coffee revived flagging spirits that had awoken too early in the day -- especially Abbey's, as she was getting tired just at the thought that she'd soon be encountering her sister. There was much teasing of Lance, who apparently wasn't that thrilled with flying -- though, with all the traveling 'N Sync had done, he'd managed to get used to it.

Abbey counted her blessings when they arrived in New York, still in one piece, still in relatively good humor. She glanced at the itinerary one last time before tucking it into her satchel: they were going to be loaded into limos from the airport, then to be taken to the hotel where the band and crew would be staying for the next couple of weeks. Abbey, on the other hand, would be staying at her own apartment -- and glad she was of it, since even a temporary stay with her mother would no doubt drive her insane. She was looking forward to hanging out with her friends for at least one night, too.

Once the caravan -- limos, passenger vans, and so forth -- had arrived at the hotel where everyone was booked, Abbey hopped out, waved to the crew with whom she'd been riding, and headed for the cab stand. She knew that she'd be meeting up with the guys again tomorrow, but today was hers, and she intended to enjoy it.

Directing the cab driver to her mother's apartment building, she leaned back in the seat, smiling to herself. It was good to be home, and she intended to savor it for as long as she could, since she wouldn't be here again until who knew when.

At the apartment building, she greeted the doorman warmly before heading up to her mom's floor. On the way, she checked her watch: it was just about 1:00, which meant that Cat wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. Reflexively, she checked her satchel to make sure the picture was still there. It was; she sighed in relief, knowing that she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she'd forgotten it.

"Mom? I'm home," she called as she unlocked the door and came into the apartment in which she'd grown up.

"Oh, in here, sweetheart." Abbey wasn't very surprised to find her mother in the kitchen, on the phone; a television mounted under one of the cabinets flashed soundless pictures as her mother dripped sweetness to the person on the other end of the line. Sliding into a seat at the breakfast nook, opposite Erica, Abbey poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table and added cream and sugar. She stirred slowly, listening to her mother wind up the conversation.

"--yes, I know, but do be a dear and see if you can arrange it anyway. Wonderful. Now I must go, my daughter just flew in from Florida and I haven't seen her in at least a week. Yes. I will. Goodbye now." With a dramatic sigh, Erica hung up the phone.

"Well! I'll get that event planned come hell or high water. David Gold says hello, by the way. How was your flight, dear?"

"It was all right." Abbey sipped at her coffee, studying her mother for a moment. Erica Eldridge was a woman of contrasts, to be sure. To look at her now, her petite form curled up in the breakfast nook, clad in a less-than-fashionable track suit, one would never think that she might be one of New York society's movers and shakers. But Abbey knew that a transformation could take place in twenty minutes -- dress, makeup, chestnut-brown hair (just beginning to show the slightest hints of silver) styled just so -- that would allow a glamorous society maven to emerge, like a butterfly from a chrysalis.

Abbey had realized, not long ago, that much of her teenage rebellion had stemmed from not wanting to be like her mother; she'd seen Erica as frivolous and flighty, fluttering from one activity to the next without centering on any. But in the past year, she'd actually begun to admire her mother. Erica did a lot of charity work -- not just the parties and such, but in the trenches, too, and Abbey had only just begun to learn how much work that actually entailed.

"Abbey? Abbey, dear, are you listening to me?"

Abbey blinked, realizing that her mother had repeated her name a couple of times. "Oh, sorry, Mom. Just thinking."

"So tell me about your job. Who's this band you're assigned to, now?"

The time passed quickly, Abbey was surprised to discover. Conversation about her job flowed naturally; she shared some anecdotes about the guys' antics, surprising herself with the memory of how much she'd enjoyed herself around them. She noticed her mother giving her an odd look when she described her exasperation with Justin; but before Erica could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open and Cat pelted in.

Flushed and breathless, she ran up to Abbey and hugged her. Amused by this display of sisterly affection, Abbey put her arms around Cat. "Well, hey there, squirt."

"Abbey! I missed you. Did you know I'm the most popular girl at school, I mean in my grade? And all my friends want to meet you. Did you bring me anything?"

Abbey chuckled. "Slow down, take a breath. I've only been gone a few days, it wasn't forever. So you're popular, huh? Why would that be?"

The look of exasperation on Cat's face made Abbey fight giggles. "Well, duh! My sister's going on tour with 'N Sync, hello!" Cat's face was still flushed, probably from the cold outside as well as her race into the apartment, and her pale blonde hair, braided back in a French braid, had come partially loose.

"Well, it's good to know you're not lording it over everyone. Oh, that reminds me." Abbey made a show of digging in her bag, pretending to rummage through it. "That reminds me... let me see if I remembered this old thing."

"Abbey--!" Cat bounced on her toes, her impatience growing by the second.

"Oh, here it is." With a flourish, Abbey brought out the signed picture and presented it to Cat. The twelve-year-old's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before, with a little shriek, she grabbed the picture.

"Oh my GOD! Abbey, this is so awesome! Where'd you get this picture? They are so hot!"

"I took it yesterday." Abbey didn't regret her smug tone, not when it brought such a look of astonishment to Cat's blue eyes.

"Oh my God, I have to go call Christine and Heather right now! Thank you, Abbey!" Cat turned to go, but Abbey put a hand on her sister's arm to stop her.

"There's more, you know."

"There's more?"

Abbey had to admit that she was loving this part. It was worth it to see the happiness in her sister's face. "Well, unless you don't want to go watch the MTV Live special on the 18th in person and get to meet the guys."

Cat went utterly soundless for a moment, her eyes registering shock, wonder, and excitement all at once. Then, with a squeal of joy, she flung herself into her sister's arms, gasped something that sounded like "OhmygodthankyouIdon'tbelieveit!" and ran from the room, tears in her eyes.

Abbey grinned. "Well, my work here is done."

"I don't think I've ever seen her so happy," Erica commented, blinking bemusedly after her younger daughter. "Is it true, about the MTV thing?"

Abbey nodded. "I confirmed it on the flight. It's supposed to be for, I think, people from the fan club only -- there was a contest or something, I'm fuzzy on the details -- but they'll basically let her watch from the sidelines with me."

"Well, good. I'm glad you thought of her, and I'm glad you'll be there to keep an eye on her."

They talked for a little while longer before Abbey excused herself. The travel was catching up to her, and she wanted to go back to her apartment and crash in her own bed for a couple of hours. She took the subway over to her place -- not quite as upscale as her mom's, by any means, but she liked it. After checking her mail (better make sure to stop at the post office and get a hold on that, she thought absently in the elevator), she headed up to her third-floor apartment and unlocked the door.

Everything looked the same as when she'd left it, to her relief. The answering machine's light was blinking; she played the messages back as she sorted through her mail (bill, bill, junk, bank statement, bill, ooh, I'm pre-approved for a credit card...). The first message was from Kelly, her boss, updating her on the assignment. Bit late for that, she grumbled to herself, kicking off her shoes.

The other messages rattled on, unimportant: someone with a pleasant-sounding voice whose name she didn't recognize telling her that she needed to call Tonya at the number given, no explanation; one of her college friends letting her know that everyone was getting together on Saturday night. The timestamp then informed her that the message had been recorded on the previous Friday, which didn't do Abbey much good; she'd been in Florida by then.

And they wonder why I don't hang out with them anymore. Abbey groaned and fell back onto her bed, pulling her down comforter over her. I'll sleep for two hours, and then I think dinner... Before she could complete the thought, she was asleep.

Exactly two hours later, Abbey woke with a loud gasp.

In the darkness, the apartment was quiet and still. Abbey heard the sound of her own breathing -- shallow panting, rattling in her dry throat -- echoing, ringing in her ears. The hand at her heart filled with a wild pulse, as if she'd just run a marathon. What the hell was that?

Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she rested her heavy head in her hands, attempting to calm down. It must have been the dream she was having -- although 'nightmare' was really a better word for it.

The imagery was still there, fresh in her mind, real enough that she wondered, still, if she'd been dreaming or not. In the dream, she'd been behind the wheel of a car, but no matter what she'd done, it wouldn't respond. She knew the car: it was her father's, the one in which she'd been taught to drive. Yet though she wrestled with the wheel, fought with the stick shift, nothing affected the car's forward motion.

It was speeding, faster and faster; the top was down, and the wind whipped her hair around her face so that she couldn't see anything. She could tell that she was driving down an unmarked country road, trees surrounding her with night's blanket of stars overhead. The car followed the road's sharp turns, but she couldn't do anything other than sit back and enjoy the ride -- and as fast as it was going, enjoying this ride was a flat-out impossiblity.

The car had continued to accelerate, the trees whipping by faster and faster on either side until they blurred to her vision. Abbey clutched the wheel, held on for dear life, fighting and failing to control it -- and then the headlights caught on a figure standing up ahead in the middle of the road; but the person's features were washed out by the bright lights and she couldn't see who it was.

She had tried to scream at the person, to try and get them out of the way, but no sound emerged from her throat though she shouted herself hoarse. Plunging a foot on the brakes had no effect, and even though she knew it was futile, she pulled on the wheel, desperately trying to twist it to get the car off the road--

Seconds before the inevitable impact, the person had turned to look at her. The eyes, bright blue even in the headlights, held a look of simple betrayal. That moment was the one in which she'd woken, and even now she could feel the power of that gaze, how it had drilled into her.

"Justin," Abbey murmured into the darkness of her apartment, knowing that he had been the person into whom the car had almost crashed -- would have, if she hadn't woken up.

Okay, this... is just a bit too freaky.

---

Abbey arrived at the MTV studios the next afternoon out of breath, flushed from her run through three busy city blocks. She didn't get in right away, though; for some reason, her name wasn't on the crew list (although her sister's was, which under other circumstances she might have found amusing). After some harried arguing with the receptionist ("yes, I know everyone in the world wants in, trust me--"), she pulled out her cell phone and called Johnny.

Once she'd explained the situation to him, he chuckled, telling her that he'd send someone down to get her shortly. Abbey stood by the desk, catching her breath, to await her escort. She didn't have to wait long, and when she saw the person coming through the inner doors, she shook her head with a rueful smile.

"Justin, shouldn't you be warming up or something?" she asked.

Justin shrugged. "In a few. Come on. Hey, Mikey," he said to the receptionist. "Give her a badge, would you? She's coo'."

As Justin escorted her inside, Abbey couldn't resist giving Mikey a sweet smile and a little wave. Then she followed Justin down the hall.

"No bodyguard?" she asked, glancing around interestedly at the various wall decorations. She'd never been inside MTV before, and it was turning out to be as unusual as she'd expected.

Justin shrugged. "Not in here, we don't need them." When they reached the bank of elevators, he stabbed the 'up' button with one thumb, one foot tapping to music drifting from a nearby open door.

Abbey watched him for a moment, trying to read his body language. The way he was rocked back on his heels, not looking at her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, it all spoke of something wrong. "Justin... you're not mad at me, are you?"

He looked up at her. "Me? Nah. Why would I be mad at you?"

"I thought--" The elevator bell rang, and when he looked to see which one had arrived, she thought, Well, that's it for his attention. "Never mind. I guess it doesn't matter."

"No, what?" He walked backwards to the elevator, holding it open for her. Now he looked genuinely interested, causing Abbey to doubt what she'd seen in him before.

"Well, because of my turning you down before." She looked him in the eyes as she spoke, and inadvertantly, that image from her nightmare came back into her mind (at the last moment he turned, the look in his blue eyes one of utter betrayal--).

Justin only shrugged. "I'm over it. Although--" The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out onto the third floor before he continued. "I don't know why it's such a big deal. It's not like it would have been a date or anything."

Abbey rolled her eyes. Obviously this was still heavy on his mind. Glancing around, she saw an empty office nearby. "Come here." She took his arm to lead him into the room, wanting to have this conversation in private. The last thing they needed was MTV interns spreading rumors about her and Justin.

"Okay." She leaned back on the bare desk, propping herself with her hands; he was standing defensively, arms folded. "I'm just going to explain this once, so please listen to me. This is my job, okay? I'm here to take pictures, and that's it. I don't hang out with the band. I do my job, I get to travel a little, and that's it."

"But--"

"No, I'm not done yet." His face was growing stormy, but she had to finish. "How many other members of the crew do you hang out with in your down time?"

Justin obviously hadn't anticipated the question, because a moment or two passed before he began to come up with a response. "Well, it depends on what's going on."

"Mm." Abbey nodded. "Well, for the duration of this tour, I'm just one of the crew. That's all there is, and I don't ask for more, so please don't give me any special treatment. Really, I don't want any."

"Geez!" Justin could feel something building up in him, getting ready to explode. "It's not like I like you or anything! I just thought it would be cool to hang out and have a good time! What's wrong with that?"

"Just hang out?" Abbey arched an eyebrow, instinctively responding to his heated tone of voice. "You didn't need to know how old I was just so we could hang out."

"So what if I wanted to know somethin' about you?" he fired back. He knew he was as much as admitting his interest in her, but it was probably already too late, and by now he didn't care. "You act like it'd be the worst thing in the world to talk with me."

Abbey's eyes narrowed. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not interested in having a relationship right now. That's not just about you, Justin, it goes for everyone. I'm sorry to be blunt, but I don't want you to take it personally. And anyway, think about it. Even if you and I do just hang out on this tour, all you need is more false rumors about your romantic relationships."

His face darkened further, and Abbey felt that squeeze of guilt again -- but the words were out, now, and she couldn't retract them.

"Justin, I--"

"No, just don't," he cut her off. "You're not even sorry, so don't lie and tell me you are."

Her eyes narrowed at that. "And explain to me exactly how you magically know what I'm feeling?"

At that moment, Chris poked his head into the office. "There you are! Come on, we have to soundcheck. You guys okay?" he added, puzzled, as Justin stomped out of the room.

Abbey shrugged. "Yeah, fine." Chris, she thought, didn't need to know about this little confrontation; it was between her and Justin.

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