Justin stared out the window of the plane. He'd told everyone back home that he was visiting a friend. It wasn't too far from the truth. He pulled out a few papers from his travel bag. Letters from Rachel. Only a few, but they were enough to motivate him to see her. As he skimmed over them, he thought about their meeting. What would he say? What could he say? Not much, he knew, and the few words he could say to her would have to be apologetic. He'd apologize for not writing her back sooner, for not even letting her know that someone was listening, for her loss. He didn't know how, but he'd say he was sorry.
The dive from airport to Hotel was too short, he decided. His face pressed against cool limo glass, and he sighed when the driver opened the door.
He dressed for the funeral in his luxurious suite. The thought depressed him.I'm getting dressed for a funeral... someone I didn't even know, just to talk to someone I... don't even know. Justin's eyes closed at the feel of the stiff black suit coat, and he stepped into his shoes without opening them. He thought about how wrong the whole thing was. But he had to do it now. There was no turning back. No turning back, echoed his subconscious as he walked back out of the hotel and into the limo once again.
Justin walked toward the small building and located the service on a message board. No turning back now, Timberlake, he thought again. He walked steadily on and into the church-like room. The speaker at the alter was asking for a prayer for the departed. Justin slipped quitly into the last pew and bowed his head. The rest of the service was spent trying to figure out which girl there was Rachel. He finally guessed her to be a quietly sobbing girl in the first row to the left. Her parents were hugging her, and the person behind her was patting her back. It had to have been her, right?
He was wrong. That was not Rachel. His first sight of her came at the actual burial. Someone called her up to speak for a second, and that's when he really saw her for the first time. And she was beautiful. Dark hair cascading over a regal neck and shoulders, down to between her shoulderblades and gently curling there. Dark eyes roaming the crowd, lined black, and glowing with sadness. Dark eyes that went wide when she spotted Justin in the back of the small crowd. Wide, then immediately sad again as she told the crowd about the plans she and Chris had made, and about the dreams he had for himself; dreams that would never come true now. And only now did Justin start to feel real guilt for coming here. He could tell it had been a stupid idea. Comforting this unknown friend then leaving the next day would make her situation even worse, and he mentally berated himself for coming at all. His eyes followed her back to her seat, and she turned and looked at him as the preacher threw the first dirt over the coffin.
"Please wait!" came an almost pathetically soft voice behind Justin as he turned to leave. He pivoted slowly, and looked at the girl in front of him. Rachel. He wanted to apologize, and opened his mouth to do so, but she spoke first. "Thank you for coming. For going out of your way, I mean. You don't even know us, me... you didn't know Chris." Justin bowed his head and looked back up into her soft velvety brown eyes. "But I feel like I know you!" he said, his voice breaking as unwanted and unwarranted tear came to his eyes. He couldn't cry. Why was he about to cry for someone else's pain when he didn't even know them? His spoken words were the answer he had been looking for, and it broke him open. "I'm so sorry, Rachel," he whispered, tears brimming up and spilling over, and Rachel began to cry once again. He hugged her to him, and they cried while the other guests left for the wake, for the chance to get away from the gloom and sadness. But they revelled in it.
Rachel had stopped to drop something off at the wake, but did not stay. She changed clothes and drove over to Justin's hotel instead. She took the elevator up to the thirteenth floor and knocked on 1305. A shaved head emerged, and then the door opened wider to welcome her inside.
They were both in emotional turmoil. That's what they would say to themselves later, to make an excuse for it. They wouldn't want to think about having made love after a funeral. But that's what happened. Rachel came through the door and he hugged her again. They sat on the bed in silence for a while, Rachel's head buried in his shoulder. It was he who started the kisses, though, and he who made the first mental decision to let it all go. She whispered his name into his mouth, and he pulled her until she was straddling his seated hips. He kissed her neck and pulled her shirt off in one smooth motion. His hands went into her hair after all her clothing had been discarded, and she straddled him again. He kissed her breasts and she rid him of his necklace and dress shirt, tossing them carelessly onto the floor. His clothes were soon gone, also, and they crawled onto the bed together. They made love twice, and neither time did Justin come. He made sure Rachel did, and then he'd start over. He wanted to take away some of her pain, if only for a few hours. And he succeeded.
She was crying. They were still intimately joined, sitting up, and she was crying onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, and rose to her knees, separating them. "I shouldn't have come here," she said, and slid off the bed. Justin grabbed her arm and looked up at her pleadingly. "I have to go," Rachel said, as if trying to convince herself. Justin gave her arm a tug and she sat back down on the sheets next to him. "That whole thing, just then, it... I know that wasn't right. I'm the one who shouldn't have come here, not now, anyway. But I've been getting all your letters, and when you sent the last one, it hurt me to think you were in pain and I couldn't do anything about it, you know? So I came three thousand miles, and I only wanted to tell you I'd gotten all the letters, and I wanted to let you know I did care. I care. But this was wrong of me, and I'm so sorry." Justin finished his speech while holding Rachel and rubbing her back. She was crying again.