It started during the games in Vegas. The scratchy throat he woke up with escalated to a cough by the fifth dunk in that damn tank. By Tampa he could barely hold a note. The Nyquil continually poured down his throat really did nothing to control the hacking cough that plagued him, and the threat of rain worried the other guys. JC didn't want him onstage, but Joey wouldn't listen.

"You are so fucking pigheaded."

"You said you loved that about me."

JC remembered saying that about Joey during the "Pop" video shoot. He remembered watching Joey hobble around the set, watching him dance on one leg because the other throbbed so badly that even the contemplation of using it was painful, watching him grimace with pain as soon as Wayne yelled "cut!" He didn't want to watch that again because he didn't think he could stand it.

"It's raining, man. That cannot be good for your cough."

"I'll be fine. I can do this. They paid to see the five of us, they're going to get the five of us."

Joey turned back to the mirror, completing his costume for the opening song. JC sighed in frustration and left the room. Lance was waiting outside, and caught a look at JC's face.

"I'm guessing he's still going on."

JC grunted and shoved past.

Joey went on. He sang as well as he could and praised the powers that be for the sweeteners. He wasn't sure he could have come up with the notes on his own. Reading the letters was another struggle, but it wasn't as long as a song, and his speaking voice wasn't nearly as bad as his singing voice.

He was getting weak though, and the dancing was taking a toll. By "Celebrity" he could barely stand, and relied heavily on his partner to walk down the catwalk in the middle of the song. During the quick change, he found the nearest solid object and leaned against it, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

JC watched from across the room, muttering under his breath. Justin came up to him.

"He's struggling man. Can he finish this?"

"He made his decision. He's gonna have to."

Justin looked back at Joey, shook his head, and finished dressing.

Later, while Justin, Chris, and Lance were occupied with changing into the big plastic suits for "The Game is Over," Joey gave into his weak knees and slid to the floor. JC, in the process of ripping off his own shirt, looked over at the sick man.

Joey's face was a pale, pasty white underneath the stage makeup. He dripped with sweat and coughed into a tissue handed to him by a stagehand. JC followed the path of the tissue with his eyes, from Joey's lap up to his mouth. JC's eyes lingered on Joey's lips. Lips so perfectly shaped they formed a heart when he smiled. Lips that were now spread across his face in the semblance of a smile as someone asked him whether he was alright. His lips, his mouth. It didn't matter to JC. Joey could be hurling up breakfast over a toilet bowl and JC would still want to taste those perfect lips with his own.

He thought about what a dick he'd been earlier and made his way over.

"Hey."

Joey looked up, coughed again. "Hey."

JC held a hand to Joey's forehead. "Damn, it's too warm back here. I can't tell if you're hot."

Joey pushed his lower lip out in a pout. "I'm not hot?"

JC smiled. "Oh always babe. Always."

"He needs to get changed."

JC nodded to the stagehand, reached down, and pulled Joey to his feet. "We've got to go out in like, two seconds. It's you and me this time. Two more songs Joe."

"Just two?"

"Just two. Need to get you changed."

"Okay."

Joey went through the whole show, despite the rain, despite his cough, scratchy throat, pounding head, and weak limbs. He sang and danced like nothing was bothering him, though later fans would claim that the show had been "off" somehow. The walk to the bus became the longest walk of his life, and he didn't make it to the bunk. He collapsed on the couch, fully clothed, and fell instantly to sleep.

JC, who had switched busses with Lance after he and Joey started "knocking boots" (as Lance phrased it), followed about five minutes later. He stumbled onto the dark bus, and almost stepped on Joey's outstretched hand. He dropped to the floor next to the couch, and shook Joey.

"Joey? You okay?"

"Jayce? Don' feel good." Joey mumbled into the couch cushions.

"I know." JC rubbed his back, attempting to comfort his lover. "You remember the hurricane warning in Miami?"

"Yeah."

"They've decided to cancel our show, so you'll have a chance to rest for a couple of days. Until San Antonio."

"When do we do San An?"

"The 5th."

"Okay." Joey coughed some more, and eventually allowed JC to help him get undressed and into his bunk.

The next day Joey didn't leave his bunk. JC brought him Gatorade and chicken soup, and didn't let the others on the bus.

"Don't want you guys catching anything."

"What about you, C?"

"Dumb ass. I'm already exposed. If I was gonna get it I'd have gotten it by now."

The next day Joey'd gotten worse. He had a fever and chills. On the day they were supposed to play Miami, Joey checked into a hospital in Orlando. The doctor that admitted him said Joey had a mild case of pneumonia. He got into a gown, his ass hanging out the back, and got into the bed. Ten minutes later, an IV stuck into his arm and an oxygen tube under his nose, he fell into an exhausted sleep. JC spent the night next to his bed.

"No way. No way in hell am I going."

"Jayce, you have to. You can do it without me. A stadium full of fans paid to see this concert. You can do it."

"No we can't. There's gonna be a gap. There's going to be a fucking empty space."

"So there's an empty space! You cannot cancel because of me. You can't."

"We can."

"But you didn't. When Lance was sick we went on without him. We've done it before. You can do it again. Go. Quit being a dumb ass and go."

In the end, it took Lance, Justin, and Chris to pry him from Joey's side. Both busses left Orlando, but they all piled onto JC and Joey's, not wanting to leave JC alone.

"We have some sad news tonight. Joey Fatone won't be here; he's currently in a hospital in Florida. He has pneumonia. Unlike some other bands, we won't let the absence of one member affect the show. We're going on."

Behind the curtain, back in the playroom, four heads whipped around at Johnny's last comment.

"He didn't."

"He did. That was pretty tacky."

"I don't know, it was kinda funny."

"Chris, man, you are seriously lame."

Chris shrugged. "Oh fuck."

Justin and Lance both turned. "What?"

"Hackey. How in the hell are we gonna do a hackey without Joey?"

JC, who'd been quietly sitting on the couch in the corner, jumped up and stormed out of the room.

Lance slapped Chris' head. "Nice going fuck wit."

"What? What'd I say? Damn Lance, that hurt!"

They got the hackey with only four members. Justin, Chris, and Lance attempted to ignore the look on JC's face. The stranded, deer-in-the-headlights look he adopted when under massive amounts of stress.

Johnny caught his arm on the way out to the tower.

"You have got to wipe that expression JC. Smile damn it."

JC made a halfhearted attempt.

"Listen, you don't smile and everyone out there is going to know why. It really isn't something you need in the papers right now."

"Fine, okay. I'll smile."

"Okay."

Smile. Smile you have to smile. Keep smiling. Fuck.

No. Don't look at the gap.

Stop it! Don't look!

Two of Us. Damn it. This song is about him.

SMILE!

Smile… keep smiling…

The wall. Damn. She's dancing by herself. She keeps doing all the motions, but she's by herself.

Smile. Damn it. Smile.

Smile.

His face hurt. He was about to go out to read the letters, and he couldn't relax his face enough to form words. The smile was now plastered, and he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop.

Chris got the idea for the phone call half way through "This I Promise You," during the a capella part, when Joey's absence was felt most keenly. At the next quick change, he found someone with a cell phone, and told them to call Joey, and keep him on the phone until the letters.

They wouldn't let JC talk to him.

"Because, man, you'll just start crying or something. Or tell him you love him."

So Chris did the talking. JC still managed a "we love you man" which sounded cheesy and impersonal even to his own ears. And he knew he'd have to make it up to Joey later.

Then he had to read the letters. This was Joey's part. Joey should have been here. Joey should have been reading. He rushed through most of the words, mumbling the person's name and seat because he couldn't trust his voice to not waver.

Strings, strings, they were on strings. Only three more songs.

It was during the quick change that JC realized he would be dancing the first part of "Game is Over" alone.

"Fuck."

Smile.

The show was finally over. JC climbed onto his bus, and fell into an exhausted sleep. The smiling. He couldn't handle the smiling anymore, but he was sure that he wouldn't relax even when unconscious.

He woke up somewhere in Mississippi, ate breakfast, and went back to sleep again. The next time he saw daylight, Lance was shaking him awake. They were back in Orlando, outside of Joey's hospital.

"I never ever ever want to do that again." JC's words were muffled by Joey's stomach, where he had his face buried.

Joey chuckled. "Baby, it really couldn't have been that bad." He stroked JC's curly hair.

"It wasn't, it was worse."

The chuckle turned into a laugh, which turned into a cough, which required water to stop.

JC winced. "Sorry."

"No, hey, listen, it's okay. The doctor said they might let me out tomorrow."

JC sat up. "Are you sure you're not pushing it?"

"Yeah, apparently it wasn't really pneumonia, it was just a really bad cold."

"And you're better?"

"Lingering cough, but yeah." Joey smiled.

"Sweet!"

"Kiss? Do you have a kiss for the recovering patient?"

JC pretended to pat his pockets. "I might have one somewhere, let me see."

"You are such a doof. Come here."

Joey pulled him down to a wet, nasty, open- mouthed clash of tongues, teeth and spit.

"Hmm… missed that."

"Only gone two days."

"Long enough. I'm never getting sick again."

JC reached out a hand and rapped the top of Joey's nightstand, just in case.