"I can't wait to see her, Mom. She's helped me so much! I know you're just going to love her!"

Lance was still staring out the window. His mind still wandering, not yet ready to come back from the past.

"Lance!" Chris screamed for the fourth time.

He turned back in the direction he heard his name from, "What?"

"We're getting ready to land. Fasten you seat belt," JC answered.

"Oh." Lance turned back around, and fastened the safety measure. And turned his gaze back to the window.

The passengers began to exit the plane. Allison kept her eye focused on the terminal, not wanting to miss her friend. Spotting her, she happily shouted her name.

Nimet  turned her head, smiled, and walked over to them. "Hey, Allison," she said, giving her a hug.

When the two parted, Allison stepped back and introduced her mother, "Nimet, this is my mother, Katherine. Mom, Nimet."

"It's nice to meet you," Katherine genuinely said. "Allison tells me that you've really been there for her. For which, I'm sincerely grateful."

"It's no big deal. She needed someone to listen to her, that's all I did. I listened," She replied. Then, turning to Allison said, "Allison, you didn't tell me why I was here. I was worried that you were relapsing. But, you look great."

 "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to scare you. Come on, let's go get your bags, then I'll tell you everything on the way home."
 

Security escorted the five band members through the airport to the baggage claim. There was really no need for the security, because it was still early morning, the adolescents were still asleep, or at church. So, the place was safe, but just as precautions, the five guys were forced to be treated like children. Yet, they knew it was for their own good, for their safety.  So, they allowed it. Not as if they had much of a choice.
 

"There's my bag," Stephanie said, taking the only suitcase of hers off  the belt. She was only staying a two days and night, so therefore, packed lightly.

"Okay. Let's go," Allison told her, just as they turned to walk away, the group made their way to the luggage claim. Lance, JC, Allison, Katherine, and Nimet just missing each other.
 

In the car...
 

"Nimet, you remember when I would tell you about James?" Allison asked.

Nimet had to smile, for she finally knew who 'James' really was. "Yes."

"We're going to see him tonight. And my mom and I want you to come with us."

"You want me to meet James?"

"Actually, Met, to tell you the truth, his name isn't James. Well, it is. But, he doesn't go by it. He goes by Lance. He always has."

"Really? Why would you call him James when you talked to me, then?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But, yesterday, I found out how he's doing. Well, not exactly. I found out what he's doing."

"Really? What is he doing?" She played along.

"He's in a music group. My mother and I went to the mall yesterday, and saw his picture on a poster in the music store window."

"Really? That's great!" Nimet smiled. Boy, is there going to be surprises happening tonight. "I bet you're excited to see him, then. What seat are you in?"

"Ten rows from the stage. And, somehow we managed to stag backstage passes-"

"You got backstage passes?"

"Yeah. Can you believe it? I mean, I didn't! Now, I'll get to see him in person!"
 

 It was final sound check. The guys were testing all the equipment, and practicing the final songs and dances. Lance couldn't concentrate. His mind kept wandering.

"Why are we here, Allison?" Twelve year-old Lance asked.

"Because, I want to look at something," Allison, twelve, answered, climbing off her bike.

She had managed to talk Lance into riding the four miles from their homes to the cemetery. Both, exhausted from the pedaling, somehow, managed to climb the steep, grassy hill-just beyond the black, iron gate.   From the top of the hill, they could see the hundreds of rows of  jagged, old, and new headstones. Some pearly, some  wooden, some just simple concrete slabs in the earth. Some with lambs, hearts, doves, and angels engraved in them  Some with small, metal frames with lost and left behind pictures of children, mounted upon them. Some headstones with flowers, flags, small toys, and letters beside them. But, all bringing the same feeling. The feeling of death. All saying the same thing: a loved one had died. The name. The date of birth. The date of death. It was all the same.

 Although it was a warm, sunny, summer afternoon, Lance shivered. His bones chilled as he looked at Allison's face, which wore a smile.

"Allison?" He asked.

She looked over at him, the smile larger now. "See this?" She gestured her hand to the graveyard.

Lance closed his eyes and swallowed before speaking, "Yes."

Allison turned her attention back to the field of death. "This," she nodded. "This will be my home soon."
 

"Lance, I think you've messed with that amp enough!" Joey called from the left side of the stage.

Lance had been fixing the volume, but he had turned it up so high that feedback was coming from everything.

"Sorry." He turned the volume down some. "How long until the concert?"  He asked Chris.

"You're the one that always knows that stuff. What happened to our little 'Scoop'?"

"Chris, I'm really not in the mood. How much longer until the concert?"

"A couple of hours. Why?"

"I'll be back soon." Lance darted off the stage, and with the aid of a bodyguard made it though the swamp of young, adolescent girls that had already formed outside the entrance.

Lance got behind the wheel of the rental car, and as his guard was stepping in, Lance said, "Go back inside. I'll be fine."

"Lance, I don't think-"

"I, honestly, don't care what you think right now. Please, go back inside. There's something I have to do. And, I have to do it alone."

 His guard didn't budge.

"Please?" Lance  pleaded.

 Reluctantly, his guard stepped back, "Be careful."

As soon as the bodyguard shut the door, Lance put his foot on the accelerator, and sped off.
 

"Do I look all right?" Allison asked, standing in front of a full-length mirror. She was sporting a pair of stone washed jeans, and a yellow 'Old Navy' pullover. Her long, brown hair was pulled into a cascading pony tail. She wore no make-up, except for the simple chap stick on her lips.

"You look great," her mother and Nimet said in unison.

"Do you think he'll remember me?"

"I'm pretty sure of it," Nimet replied mysteriously.
 

 Lance had driven to the cemetery he and Allison went to when they were younger. Parking the car by the black, iron gate, he got out of the automobile.

He made his way the steep hill that was now lightly dusted with snow. He looked out over the graveyard.  He saw death. A lot of death. The jagged headstones, the flowers beside them, whether they were fresh or withered, it was death. The ground, the trees surrounding the stones: all of it, death.

Eerie.

Silent.

Uncomfortable silence.

He looked to his left, he saw a fresh grave. Curiosity and fear rising. He walked. Walked over to the grave where the earth hadn't been covered with grass, but was now mud due to the wet snow. The flowers were still fresh. The headstone, not yet prepared.   He walked over to the grave. There was lot marker placed into the frozen ground. He bent down to read the marker: Rebecca Towns. 1992-1999.

He let out a sigh of relief. The breath he hadn't realized he was holding. But, then, he felt bad. The child was only seven. He stood and hoped that the young girl hadn't had to suffer. But, then again, thanking God for it not being Allison. And, he prayed, that none of these lots belonged to Allison.

He glanced at his watch. He had to get back to the venue. He walked back to the gate, and got into the car.

"Where is he?" JC asked, looking at his watch for what seemed like the two hundredth time.

"He promised he would be back in time for the concert," Chirs stated.

"Did he say where he was going?" Justin asked.

 "No."

 "Did he take a bodyguard?" Joey asked.

"No. His guard is down there," JC answered pointing to the guards that were out front, attempting calming the audience.

Just then, the backstage door flew open, and the fifth of the group entered. He had his space suit on, and his helmet  in hand. Breathlessly, he replied, "Sorry. I-I had to run an errand."

"It's about time. We're a half hour late!"

"Sorry."

The stage manager came back and noticed Lance was backstage, "Let's go. We can't wait any longer."

The lights dimmed, there was an uproar from the audience. Music began pumping, five figures began dancing on the stage in white swing suits.   The dance sequence ended, the hats were removed, allowing the audience to see their faces. They began singing the last verse to " I Want You Back".  The crowd cheered louder. The five singers smiled, and continued singing.
 

After the concert Katherine, Nimet, and Allison were walking towards the backstage entrance.

"Hey, Met!" One of the guards greeted her. "Why weren't you VIP seated tonight?"

"I'm here with some friends," she answered.

"JC's been waiting for you all day."

"Well, I'm right here."

Allison and Katherine were watching the two converse back and forth with each other, both, mother and daughter, shared baffled glances.

"Those your friends?" He asked, pointing to Katherine and Allison.

"That would be them."

"Go on back there."

"Thanks."

Nimet, Katherine, and Allison continued walking. Allison's stomach began turning into knots. Calm down, Allison. She told herself.  He's Lance. He's your best friend.

 But, they hadn't spoken, written letters, they had no type of communication for five years. Would he remember her? Would they still be friends? Would they turn into acquaintances that you see once one year, and then never again?
 

 JC was pacing back and forth.

"JC, man, come on. You're going to wear a hole in the carpet," Joey teased.

"Nimet said she would be here. No, she didn't. She said she would try. But, she's going to be here, right?"

"Yeah. You know she will."

Lance was sitting on the couch in the dressing room, completely zoned out.

"Lance?" Justin called.

"Hmm?"

"You were great tonight, Man."

"Yeah. Thanks," he said dazed. His mind wandering again to his childhood with Allison. But, before his memories could seize all control of his brain, there was a knock on the door.

JC went to the door and opened it. "Met!" He cried, happily, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I see you brought some friends."

"Yeah. Guys. This is Katherine, and her daughter:  Allison," Nimet introduced them.

Lance's eyes wandered over towards the door, where Katherine and Allison had just walked through. The brown hair, the  brown eyes, the perfect smile. It was Allison. Allison Gates. His best friend. But, something was different. She was standing. Standing tall. Her eyes sparkling, gleaming. Life. She had life. Her eyes were smiling. Happiness. Her eyes showed happiness.

 The twenty year old blonde stood from the couch. "Allison?" He asked.

"Lance," she smiled.

He walked over to her and engulfed her in a warm, tight embrace. Everyone in the room watched as the two long-lost friends embraced. They looked on, as the two refused to loosen their grip on each other.

"I'm so glad to see you," he told her, still holding onto her, as if holding on to his life.

"I'm glad to see you, too."

A tear fell from Katherine's eyes, as she watched her daughter reunite with her childhood lifeline.

Lance raised his eyes, seeing Allison's mother. Reluctantly, he let go of Allison and walked over to Mrs. Gates. "My surrogate mother,"  he said, and embraced her, as well.

"Hello, Lance," she greeted, hugging him. "It's good to see you, again."

For the first time in days the group mates saw a smile form on their friends face. They saw life come back into his eyes. The age he seemed to have accumulated over the past few days, had vanished. He was again, twenty years old.
 

Later that night...
 

Lance and Allison had decided to go for a drive. Allison gave Lance her car keys. They found themselves driving to where they're separations began: their childhood homes.

Lance parked in the driveway of the burnt ashes. "They still haven't fixed this place?"

"No."

They looked next door to Lance's old home. "Is it abandoned?" He asked.

"Mom says it is."

They looked at each other. They didn't have to say a word. The two opened the car doors, and walked over to his backyard.

The tree house was still standing. "Ladies, first," he told her.

They climbed the wooden ladder and sat on the floor like they always did when they were younger.

"You look great," Lance commented.

"Thanks."

"So, how have you been?"

Knowing the true meaning behind that question, she answered, "When I was released from the hospital, I found out you moved somewhere down south. So, a couple weeks after you moved, I ran away-to find you. I got as far south as Florida.  But, instead of continuing my search, I got help.

"I started seeing Nimet. She helped me. She was much like you. My friend. My confidant. She talked me out of killing myself several times, like you.

"It took me five years of rehabilitation, but I'm finally well enough to handle life's ups and downs without feeling I have to give up."

"What made you decide to get help? I mean, your parents begged you to, but you refused-"

"But, I was stubborn. I declined every opportunity that came my way."

"Then, what made you get help?"

"Lance. I refused help, because I didn't realize I had a problem. I knew I was depressed. I knew I felt hurt and worthless, but I never fully understood that was a problem. Until, I got to Florida.

"Unknowingly, Lance, you were the reason I got help."

"Me?"

"Yes. You had seen me depressed and hurt, and you helped me so many times. I wanted you to see a new me. An improved me. I didn't want you to see me...  the same person your parents made you get away from. I wanted to see you happy. I wanted you to be able to be around me, without having to listen about my next suicide attempt." She paused before continuing, "I wanted you to be proud of me."

"Proud of you? I've always been proud of you!"

"You couldn't have been! I didn't do anything for you to be! The only thing I ever did was threaten to take my own life!"

"But, you didn't, did you? You're sitting right here with me now, aren't you? You got help, didn't you? For which, I have every reason to be proud of  you!"

"Lance. When I came home. When I came back up here-I realized something. Something that I don't know why I never told you before."

He looked at her, urging her to go on.

"Yes, I do. I know why I never told you. Because, you didn't feel it, too." She was mumbling softly, looking down at the wooden floorboards of the tree house.

Lance's heart began to flutter. The winter moonlight shining through the cracks between the wood, the blue, twilight moon was casting a slight glow around Allison.

 She looks like an angel, he thought.

While Allison was still mumbling softly to herself, fighting to find the words she needed so desperately for him to hear, he gently scooted forward, the boards creaking ever so slightly with his movements. He took his hand, and softly raised her chin, making her eyes meet his.

 He smiled warmly. "Allison, I love you," he told her sincerely. "I always have."

She smiled, not knowing what to say. She decided on the truth, which she had hidden for so long, "I love you, too."

He lowered his lips to hers, and gently grazed them in a quick, soft kiss. Yet, that kiss could never have held more passion and warmth during that winter night.  That kiss caused a fire-but not a fire of disaster. A fire of the hearts. A fire, a burning desire-to love...  to live.