Lance awoke, groggy and rubbing his eyes, to the sound of his bedside phone. "'lo?" His voice was even deeper than usual, and for a second he wasn't sure he'd even made any sound.

"Lance?"

"Ngh. Mom, what's wrong? It's like 3:30 in the morning."

"I need you to come over to the house, right now."

The tone of Lance's mother's voice jolted him instantly awake. "What's wrong?" When she didn't respond he added, "Is something wrong? Mom. Come on, tell me," he pleaded.

"Just... come home. I can't tell you over the phone." There was something in her voice that shook Lance, and three minutes later, he was on the road.

"He certainly looks like you did at that age."

Lance rubbed his eyes again, trying to convince himself that what he had seen was not real. He wasn't having much luck with it. He, well, Lance actually, looked too much like his photographs and not enough like Lance's memories, all bad hair and strange facial musculature and excessively green eyes. He looked, Lance thought, like everything he remembered disliking about himself. "Do you have any coffee?"

"What?"

"Coffee. Black caffeinated beverage. I was hoping to get some. 'Cause I missed it this morning and I need something to help me think."

Lance's mother left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen.

Lance massaged his temples. "This is possibly the most fucked-up thing ever."

"Who are you talking to?"

Lance jumped. He turned and stared at what would have been his reflection five years ago. "Hey! Who said you could leave the other room?"

Lance shrugged. "I heard you and Mom and figured I'd come see what you were talking about. This isn't exactly the most normal thing to happen, you know?"

"Tell me about it," Lance quipped. Just then, Mrs. Bass pushed the door all the way open, entering from the hallway.

"Lance!" she exclaimed. "What, um, what are you doing in here?"

Lance shook his head. "You two are like a broken record," he said. "This is my house, too." And he left.

Lance just looked at his mother, and sighed.

Lance tromped into the room. "So, when are we going to see the guys?"

Lance looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "We are not going to see the guys. They're coming here. Now go away. You've caused me enough trouble today just by being here. I have a headache from dealing with myself." He rubbed his forehead.

"Guess that shows what kind of person you are, huh?"

"Shut up and leave."

Lance decided that the easiest way to explain to the others was just to show them Lance and see what happened. General chaos erupted the minute Lance walked through the kitchen door. "You mean there's another you? What the fuck?" was pretty much the general sentiment, though there were varying degrees of confusion, anger, and shock. Lance just stood there and stared. These were not the guys he remembered. They circled around him, looking at him like a specimen in a glass cage.

"He's so..." Chris trailed off.

"Small?" Justin supplied.

"Intimidated?" JC tried.

"Gay?" Joey said.

With a chorus of "huh?," five heads turned to face Joey. He shrugged.

"Hey, after six years in the biz, you develop things like gaydar."

Lance raised his eyebrow. "So it pings on me from five years ago, but doesn't ping me now? Whatever, Joe."

Joey smirked. "And who says it doesn't ping now?"

Lance clenched his fists. "Just... don't do that. Let's deal with the problem at hand, okay? This is me we're dealing with, not some random guy. First, we have to figure out how he, um, I, got here and all that."

Five pairs of eyes focused on Lance. "Hey! I don't know? You think I want to be here, with five guys I half-know, while they all talk around me like I don't exist? Oh, yeah, that's my idea of a great time." He sighed. This was going to take a while.

The issue of what to say about Lance to management had been solved by saying that Lance was Lance's second cousin from Mississippi, something that couldn't be disproved immediately. To Lance, changing his name was out of the question. "I'm Lance, I've always been Lance, and I'm going to stay Lance," he said, and he had in his voice that tone which the guys recognized as the "don't fuck with me" tone. It was rare to see, or rather hear, it in Lance at his time, but it had become so commonplace to the guys that Johnny just shrugged it off and said, "fine, whatever. So you're Lance's cousin Lance. What, is it a family name or something?"

"Second cousin. I don't want him related too closely."

In the end, it was decided that since nobody knew how Lance had arrived, much less how to send him back, he should stay close to Lance, and since Lance didn't want to deal with himself very often, he spent a lot of time with the other guys, hanging out at someone's house to have company. Tour time was rapidly approaching, and Lance wanted Lance gone by the time the tour started, "mainly because of space issues on the tour buses," he said.

Lance complained loudly about how Lance spent all his time at Joey's. "You never see anybody else!" he exlaimed. "What about JC? What's wrong with him?"

"Joey's less likely to kill you," Lance said blandly, and that was the end of that discussion.

Joey caught Lance one day, giving his double such a look of loathing that Joey had to say something. "Hey, whoa! Hate yourself much? That's not very healthy, you know that?"

"Fuck off, Joe. I can't deal with this now. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't even exist."

Joey stared at him. "He really gets to you, doesn't he? What is it about him? He's just you from five years ago."

"Five years is a long time, Joey."

A few days after Joey caught Lance giving himself the death glare, the guys were at the beach in a rented house for a few days, relaxing or rehearsing during the day, and generally gearing up for the tour. The first day there, Lance spent nearly the entire thing with JC, tagging along after him as he bodysurfed, splashing around with him in the water, and building a sandcastle that Chris later said, "could fit Joey, man! What, did you spend all day on it?"

"Nah," JC responded. "Lance was there. Dude, I never realized, but we never hang out."

Lance looked up. "Really? Why?"

JC looked thoughtful. "I have no idea," he finally said. "I missed you."

Later that night, Lance caught Lance staring at JC. "What is up with you? You're staring at him like..."

"Like what?"

"Oh my god. You want him, don't you? This can not be happening. My clone from the past is falling for my bandmate. Next up on Days of Our Lives." He shook his head.

Lance snorted. "Um, hello? Duh. Of course I'm falling for him. He's so open and wonderful. Not to mention gorgeous. You should know. You want him too. Or, at least, wanted him."

Lance glared. Instinctively his hands balled into fists. "I do not want him, nor did I ever want him," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well you're me, only older, right?" Lance nodded. "Then I figured you'd had time to get used to being gay. Why are you so uptight?"

Lance smacked him across the face, then glanced down at his hand. "You little fuck. I'm not gay! Get the hell out of here!" He thrust his arm in the direction of the door.

Lance picked himself up off the ground and, holding his face in one hand, he slouched past Lance. It was only when he was at the door that he dared to mutter under his breath, "coward."

He didn't see Lance's eyes close.

When Lance came into the kitchen the next morning with a healing lip, a few eyebrows were raised, but since he never brought it up, nobody said anything. He walked over to the coffee pot, poured himself a mug, and walked over to the table. Lance carefully drank his coffee, careful not to spill any on his lip, and promptly spit it out again when he saw JC from across the table, stretching and lifting his shirt to scratch his stomach. He shook his head, muttered, "sorry," and got up to grab some paper towels. As he passed Lance's seat, he whispered, "He's quite the hot one, isn't he?"

Lance glared at Lance over his morning paper.

Lance walked past JC's bedroom later that day and heard a pair of voices. Ordinarily he wouldn't have eavesdropped, but it was the specific pair of voices that made him pause at the door to listen.

"He's just weird about stuff. Like, we never hang out anymore. I didn't realize it, but I missed hanging out with you. Or Lance. Or however this thing works. But I never see him anymore. He's always at Joey's." That was obviously JC.

"He's just been a dick recently, hasn't he? Look, I'm sorry for him. He's just under a lot of stress... Ouch! Dang, Jayce, that stings!" the other voice was slightly harder to place, until Lance realized he was trying to recognize himself.

"It's just stuff for your lip. How did this happen, anyway? I didn't want to ask downstairs..."

"Just. It's nothing. Stuff I shouldn't have said."

"Lance did this? How can you hit yourself?" JC sputtered. "It's, like, self-mutilation or something."

"Oh, that feels good."

"Just to take your mind off the lip."

Lance giggled. "Maybe my lip should hurt more often."

Lance's eyes went wide. He backed away from the door and tiptoed back down the hallway to his room and loudly walked downstairs.

The tour started, and Lance still hadn't vanished. When asked, he'd just shrug and say, "Hell if I know. I'm just waiting to go 'poof!' or something." He kept up the whispered words to Lance about JC until Lance snapped at him one night.

"Just fuck off, okay? I've been thinking about him for six years, are you happy? Just go away. Besides, it seems like you're more likely to do something with him than I am."

The corners of Lance's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "I thought you weren't gay," he said. "And what's this about me and him? You should know why I never went for him. I was too scared. I was, well, me. But, heck, you're me all grown up. And he likes you."

Lance glared. "You spent like four hours in his room when we were at the beach. You think I didn't hear you guys? 'Oh, that feels good!'" he mimicked Lance's bass drawl with a perfection only Lance could muster, and Lance's eyes got big.

"You heard?" He burst out laughing. "He was giving me a back rub. Nothing else. It's like a... thing. Oh, and he's definitely gay. Now we need to hook you two up, right? I mean, come on. He likes you -- he does."

Lance just opened his mouth and shut it a number of times, speechless.

Lance waited as the members of *NSYNC finished their spot on TRL. As they came off stage Lance slid behind Lance and whispered, "Lookin' mighty fine today, isn't he?"

Lance growled, then turned and grabbed Lance, shoving him into the green room, which happened to be empty. "I can't deal with you anymore. I made a choice: I left you behind," Lance whispered, fists clenched, glaring at Lance. "I am not you -- I sacrificed you. You are nothing, and you don't exist, and I never want to see you again."

Lance looked at him, startled, eyes wide. "You can't..."

"I'll do whatever I fucking well want to do. I'm a goddamn pop star, not some geeky Mississippi fag. No more." Lance's anger suffused him and he seemed to grow as his voice got louder, occupying more space than he had. He loomed over his young self.

A whisper escaped Lance's lips: "But you're me."

Lance's eyes narrowed. "So." It wasn't a question.

"Close your eyes. You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Lance growled. "You and I both know I am," he shouted. "That doesn't make any difference."

"Fag," Lance countered. The word hung in the air.

"No!" Lance yelled. "I've moved past that. I gave it up, I'm..."

There was a knock at the door, and Lance and Lance both turned at the sound. "Lance?"

Lance got up to answer it, when Lance looked sharply at him. "Not him. I can't."

Lance blinked. He nodded, turned toward the door, and then turned the knob, careful to open the door only a fraction of an inch. "What?" he said, careful to shield Lance from the visitor.

"Is Lance okay? I mean, I, um, well we heard yelling and, um, thought it might..." he trailed off lamely.

Lance glanced over his shoulder, catching Lance's eyes. "He'll be fine, JC. Just, um, give him a few minutes."

JC chewed on his lower lip. "Are you sure? Can I get him something? He's really okay?"

Lance sighed. "I think I'd know whether I'm fine or not. Uh, bring back a coffee, the way he likes it. Just... come back in a few minutes, okay?"

JC shuffled off to find coffee, a worried look on his face.

A few weeks later, the tour was in full swing again, and the guys saw less and less of Lance. He started begging off when asked if he was going backstage. He spent a lot of time on the bus. He spent a lot of time with Lance, and though those times would generally end with one of them in tears, Lance claimed they were "doing fine." JC started spending time around both Lance and Lance, and it seemed as though the past five years' worth of misspent time was being erased. Not only could Lance and Lance be seen shooting looks at JC when they thought he wasn't looking, but JC would occasionally look over at Lance, or sometimes Lance as though seeing him for the first time, blink, smile, and completely lose focus on the conversation.

It was, therefore, a great surprise to all the guys when Lance disappeared.

"Hey, Chris!"

"Go 'way. 'msleeping."

"Chris!"

"I was sleeping."

"Just get down here. Now."

"Justin, I'm not kidding. I'm going back to sleep, and if you say one more thing, I'm going to kill you."

"Lance is fighting with himself!"

"He's been doing that for weeks. What else is new?"

"No, I mean he's fighting with himself -- like, fighting with the back of the bus. Lance disappeared, remember?"

Chris was on the floor in seconds. "He's what?" He stared out the window. "This had better be some sick joke." Picking up the bus phone, he dialed the other bus. "Joey. Put Lance on. What? No, I'm not kidding. Right now, Fatone." He paused, squinted at the other bus, and watched Joey walk into where Lance appeared to be screaming at the median strip.

JC walked into the room, scratching his chin. "Would you keep it down? I can't sl... um. What exactly is going on? Is this one of those weird dreams? Yeah. That's it. Bed, here I come." But he didn't move, just stared out the window at Lance, who was being handed the phone by Joey.

Chris barked into the phone, "What the hell is going on, Bass? You're damn right I'm pissed off. The Infant here," he gestured to Justin, even though Lance probably couldn't see him, "woke me up from a wonderful nap to tell me you're yelling at apparently nothing, and I get up and see he's not crazy. Would you like to clarify so I can get some sleep?" He nodded a few times, blinked a couple more, and grunted a bit. "Put Joey back on." Chris finished the conversation, Justin and JC catching only snippets -- things like "fucking crazy" and "you're sure?" and "snapped. Yep."

After Chris hung up, JC looked at him a bit expectantly. "Well?"

"Lance," Chris said, pausing for effect, "is crazy. And I'm going back to sleep."

Lance looked at Joey. "What?"

"Um, Chris wants to talk to you."

"Can't you see I'm already yelling at someone? Tell him I'll get back to him."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who are you yelling at?"

"Lance! Me! He's... wait, where did he go? Must've snuck off. Fine, I'll take the call. Give the phone here."

Joey just stood there.

"Joey! The phone. Please."

"Oh, right. Here." Joey passed Lance the phone.

"Chris? You sound pissed off -- what's up? Lance is driving me up a wall. Okay? I just want to get rid of him. He was laying down on the floor -- you must not have seen him. I can't wait to get off this bus. What? Oh, hang on a sec." He gestured to Joey. "He wants to talk to you."

Joey took the phone with a bemused expression on his face.

They pulled into a rest stop somewhere in the Midwest -- Illinois? Minnesota? -- for gas, and the guys got out to bounce around, eat dinner, and talk about the next show. At random points during dinner, however, Lance would turn to face a spot directly between Chris and JC and say something like, "well I never asked you," or, "you just don't get it, do you?" or "hey! shut up!" Chris and Joey played it off, but JC caught Justin's eyes across the table and shot him a worried look.

"Um, Lance?"

"What is it, C?"

"Who are you talking to?"

Chris chose that moment to dive across the table at Joey, shattering any chance JC might have had for an answer. As he picked himself up, Chris glared at JC, mouthing, "later."

Justin and JC managed to worm it out of Chris at the next rest stop, when JC made it clear that not only was he willing to sacrifice his own sleep, but Chris's sleep as well until he had the answer, Chris threw his pillow at JC and sat up in his bunk, forgetting about the low ceiling for the first time in a long while. "Ouch. Fuck. Go away and I'll tell you in a few hours. And give my pillow back."

"Now, Chris."

"Fine. Lance finally disappeared. Lance doesn't seem to think so -- he's still talking to him as though he's there. That's the long and short of it. Now give me my pillow back!"

Justin broke in, "Dude, he's like, shouting at nothing. That can't be cool."

JC nodded, asking, "You're not even slightly worried?"

Chris raised his eyebrow. "And what exactly do you two want me to do about it? We're on this bus in the middle of Outer Hole-in-the-wall. So long as he doesn't kill Joey we're okay. I'll smack him upside the head with my pillow when we get to the hotel. That is, if you ever give it back."

Lance stomped from one end of the bus to the other. "Where are you, you little freak? Come out here where I can see you!"

Lance opened the door to the bathroom and stood in the hallway. "What?" he said scratching his chin. "I gotta use the bathroom."

Lance opened his mouth, as if to say something, then shut it almost immediately. If that's how Lance was going to be, then so be it. "Fine. We'll talk later."

Lance sighed. "What is it? Let's get it over with now. I can pee later."

"What is up with the other guys?"

Lance gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, nobody seems to know you're here. So what the hell is going on?" Lance advanced on Lance, who was staring at the floor.

"I dunno." Simultaneously, both said, "but I need to use the bathroom." Lance looked at Lance in shock. "What the fuck was that?"

Joey chose that moment to enter the bus, singing loudly and off-key, causing Lance and Lance to break out in paroxysms of laughter. With the tension temporarily broken, Lance turned halfway around, facing toward the door. "Hey Joe -- we're back here!"

"Steve's with you?"

"No, Lance and me."

"That's it! I am so off of this bus." Turning back the way he came in, he shouted, "Kirkpatrick! One of you come babysit the psycho!"

Lance just blinked and watched Joey stomp off toward the other bus.

"So I volunteer Chris to stay with the nutcase on the other bus. All opposed?" Chris's hand raised. "You don't count, Kirkpatrick. It's a vote against you."

"Fatone, don't even start with me."

JC wandered into the common area, where Chris and Joey were fighting, and offered to ride with Lance. Chris hadn't protested -- to the contrary, "let the two space cases ride together! It's perfect!" he'd said. "Hell, bring Steve over here -- no sense in making him go crazy too."

Lance was sitting down on the sofa when JC climbed onto his bus. "What's up?"

JC grinned. "Not much -- what's this I hear about Lance still bugging you? You know we haven't seen him for days."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, you 'haven't seen him for days'?"

"What part of that didn't you get?"

"The whole thing. 'Cause he's, um, right behind you."

JC turned slowly. There was nothing behind him but the bus's hallway. "Lance..." he began.

"Don't even tell me. Please don't tell me you can't see him. Please?" He put his hand over his face. "Just... I can't deal with this. Not right now." He sat back on the sofa, hands over his face, just sitting there.

"Are you sure you're gonna be..."

"I'll be fine, Jayce. Just go somewhere else. Please."

JC looked at Lance for a few seconds, and Lance saw concern written clearly across his face. "I can stay here..." JC began.

"I need to be alone. To, uh, talk to myself." Lance blushed.

JC stared. "But we've already determined that he's not there."

"But he is there. For me. I. Maybe this is something I have to do myself."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, man."

Lance sighed. Can you just give me a few minutes?"

JC shook his head and walked back toward the bunks. "I'll be back in a few," he said over his shoulder.

"You can't just run away from him every time he's here."

Lance groaned. "Not you again. And remind me why it is JC can't see you?"

Lance shrugged. "Beats the heck out of me. But you should talk to him. Seriously."

"Look, I'll do it when I'm ready. Seriously."

Lance raised his eyebrow. "At the rate you're going, that could easily be that cold day in July they keep talking about. Just talk to him. It can't be that hard."

"And what do you know? From what I'm seeing, you're some creation up in my head that's not really here, and you're giving me advice?"

"I'm not giving advice, I'm just telling you what you should do. There is a difference you know."

"Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"You've been keeping this quiet for what? Six years now? Talk. To. Him. At least you'll know one way or the othe..." Lance turned to face the door and promptly disappeared. Lance blinked.

JC walked into the common area.

Lance shook his head and stood up. "Okay, this is majorly strange, but C, there's something I, um, well, uh, oh fuck it," and Lance sat back down. JC looked at Lance with a bemused expression on his face.

"What?" he asked.

"I. Nothing."

"Before Lance vani-"

"He's gone."

"Oh. But, before he left, did he tell you about, um." JC blushed.

"What?"

"I. You. Uh, he might have. I'm gay."

"Oh. So, um, so am I." And Lance grabbed JC by the shoulders and kissed him. Not particularly well or long, but, as first kisses go, it was pretty good.

JC pulled away and said, "We should have done that a long time ago."

"Maybe we did."

And the world changed just a bit.