AN: I have this strange obsession with ending fics at thirteen. This is the third or fourth one I've done that with. Oh well... LOL I would totally love some feedback on this. What ya'll thought, etc... And if anyone knows some good places to nominate Backstreet stories or post a link let me know. I'm always looking for ways to spread the word. So, a Howie story. What's up with no one writing Howie huh? I like Howie. Howie is nice. Nice Howie. Poor Howie. And no this is not a pity fic. Howie's just cool. Cool nice Howie. LOL Okay, I'm leaving now. *big grin* Bye! ***************** Crossing Enemy Lines: Chapter Thirteen ****************** Trace glared at the title of the latest supermarket tabloid in disgust as his little sister bounced into the room. “How was your trip sweetie? Did Justin get you at the airport okay? I wanted to come but he’s on one of his ‘I want to be normal’ kicks and insisted on going in cognito by himself.” She flashed him a hundred watt smile and gave him a quick hug. “Wonderful. I can’t believe you guys have NEVER taken me to Vegas since I’ve been legal. Its some of the most fun that I’ve EVER had and yes, me and Boy Wonder braved the hordes of people without incident. It was funny as hell how’d he tense up anytime someone under the age of thrity walked by though. There was this Catholic school girl trip just debarking and he nearly had hysterics on the off chance he’d be recognized.” He smiled tightly. “I’m glad you had fun baby girl.” Laina tried to peer over his shoulder at the paper. “Whatcha reading?” Trace swallowed. “Just the latest tabloid trash. You’re actually in this one, ‘NSYNC Temptress Marries Latin Love’. Where the hell do they come up with this stuff?” She didn’t answer but snatched the paper out of his hands with a gentle curse before thumbing through the pages, beautiful face unreadable as she scanned the blurry pictures and sensational subheadings. “Dammit to Vanilla Ice hell…” “Laina?” She ignored him and continued to read, full lips pressed into a white line. Trace tried again and fought the slight panic that was rising in the back of his throat. “Laina? Laina Marie?!” She looked up guiltily. Trace stared at her with huge eyes. “You didn’t?! Laina? Laina Marie Ayala?!” “Trace please don’t be mad…” “Mad?” he raged. “Mad?! I’m mad? Are you mad?! You got married?!!” Shaky hands reached under her soft sweater to pull out a golden chain where a very obvious wedding band hung, glittering with diamonds and wealth in the light of the kitchen. “I always said I wanted a small ceremony…” she offered with a weak smile that he didn’t return. He reached out with numb fingers to touch the ornate piece of jewelry, simple and audacious too, a perfect match for her. “My baby sister got married.” The words, even as they passed his lips, sounded strange to him. “You got married in a Vegas chapel.” Foreign. Bizarre even. “Are you pregnant?” Laina rolled her eyes and pulled the chain and attached ring away from him. “No I’m not pregnant,” she snapped churlishly. “We’ve been wanting to get married for a long time Trace. We’ve been dating for three years, engaged for one. It just never seemed right, you know?” “And one in the morning on the Vegas Strand was the perfect place you begin your life together?” “Trace, the new album just came out, Backstreet is bigger than ever, and NYSYNC is close on their heels. Our collective lives aren’t going to get any more simple, you know that. If anything its all just going to get more and more complicated. I was tired of being the friend, the girlfriend, and the fiancé. “Howie was tired of having to hide our affection before the fans, of being ever so careful of what we say. Of having to defend me and our relationship. Jesus, you’d think that I was Lou Peralman’s daughter with some of the talk that’s gone around. “We’re in love, we’ve been in love, and we’re going to be in love for a very long time Trace. We just want it to be official, and legal, and binding. I’m his and he’s mine and who cares if we had to be married in Vegas instead of a church where it’d be turned into a spectacle? I certainly don’t.” He expelled a heavy breath. “You didn’t just cross enemy lines did you Laina Marie? You set up a damn camp.” She laughed lightly and leaned forward to capture her brother in a hug. “Thank you for understanding.” Trace fought back tears. “Who walked you down the aisle?” “Lance. We flew he and AJ in without telling them why, just said it was an emergency. AJ was the Man of Honor, and they both acted as witnesses. Lance bawled the whole time, I swear he was more emotional than a damned woman. Its funny how things work out, isn’t it?” “Are you guys going to have another wedding, you know, one where we might actually get to attend?” Laina chuckled. “Of course, if you and JC and Joey and Chris and Justin didn’t kill me, Howie’s family would. He’s telling them right now and man, I don’t envy him THAT task. I wish I could see his mom’s face when he tells them we were married by Elvis.” Trace winced and shook his head ruefully. “My baby sister’s all grown up. Took damn long enough didn’t it?” She punched him lightly, relieved by his somewhat easy acceptance of the situation. Nothing had been broken or thrown yet, over all this conversation had gone incredibly well. AJ owed her fifty bucks. He had sworn that Trace would at least faint when she broke the news. Laina knew her brother better than that though, some of the time. She had a hundred riding on the fact that Justin WOULD though. As well as she knew Trace, sometimes she knew Timberlake better. “Thanka, thanka very much…” she drawled in classic Elvis, giggling all the while. Trace Ayala groaned and pulled her in for another hug. “Mr. and Mrs. Sweet D huh? That’s quite a title there Laina. You sure know how to pick em…” She pinched him as she dove for the paper. “Who would have thought this would all start with a bunch of ridiculous pictures and an Aaron Carter concert.” “Is that what you’re gonna tell the fans? That you found true love through the help of an Aaron Carter concert?” “Well, that and Nick Carter being an asshole and you and Justin being jerks and… Damn, how the hell did me and Howie end up together?” “Does it matter?” Laina Marie Dorough looked up at her brother and winked. Trace could honestly say it was the happiest he had ever seen her. Period. “Not an iota.” “Turning traitor suites you Mrs. Dorough.” “Bite me Trace.” He laughed again. “Have you called the guys yet?” “Nah.” “Justin, JC, Joey and Chris are so gonna kick your ass.” “As long as they acknowledge that they’re kicking the ass of Mrs. Howard Dorough then we won’t have a problem.” “Backstreet Bitch.” “*NSYNC freeloader.” The end. Minus some ass kicking.