wtf27 prompt #4. Wings

[turps]

Moving on. This is prompt #4, wings.

Title: Wings
Author: Terri
Fandom(s): Nsync
Author's Note (if any): The fouth of 27 selfcontained but connected stories. Again, for vaudevilles.



JC sits cross-legged, picking at the blade of grass. They crumble in his fingers, tiny pieces dropping to the ground. It’s too hot to move, the air shimmering around them. The sky is a washed out blue, bleached pale by the sun.

They’ve been here for twenty minutes now, and they still don’t know which way to go. Empty horizon circles them, there are no buildings or trees or anything. Just brittle grass and air that scorches into your lungs.

“We can’t just stay here.” Chris is squinting, hand shading his eyes as he looks around. The back of his shirt is drenched, clinging to his back. The crease behind his knees shines wetly and JC reaches out a hand, lays his palm over the hard muscle of Chris’ calf. Chris doesn’t look down, but he moves into JC’s touch. Leaning just that bit closer, fingers brushing against JC’s shoulder.

“Everyone point a direction. Majority wins.” Joey stands up, holds out a hand to pull Lance to his feet. “You all ready?” Nods and sounds of agreement, and Joey clenches his hand. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

They all point, and the decision is made.

Walking is slow. The heat has stripped them of energy, and thirst is constant for them all. At least JC’s not hungry now, though he suspects that’s a bad thing. None of them talk, and Joey’s taken the lead, striding forward. He’s leaving indents in his wake, they all are, and if JC looks behind their journey is mapped by scars of smashed grass.

Lance is walking at Joey’s heels, Justin a few behind them both. Chris brings up the rear, looking downward and obviously favouring his right knee. JC bites back his words of worry, just stays close and forces a smile when Justin looks back, questions held in his gaze.

“What the hell?” Joey suddenly stops in place. His hands are in front of him, and he’s feeling empty air. Except, there’s ripples under his fingers, furrows of flickering light that dance over his skin. His hands are wavering, then suddenly gone, and Joey pulls back, eyes wide as he flexes his reappeared hands.

“Your hands….” Lance is holding one of Joey’s hands in his own. “Did they… I mean. Could you still feel them? That’s one of the freakiest things I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, it felt like they were still there. It was like pushing my hands into jello.” Using his free hand, he makes the air ripple again. It’s a beautiful sight and JC moves close, holding up his hand close to Joey’s. It tickles when one of the furrows break over his fingers, waves of light sliding across his palm. He pushes forward, and it is like moving in jello, the air thickening, becoming solid against his touch. One more shove and his fingers are gone. He wiggles them, and he can feel the resulting movement even if he can’t see it at all.

“I guess we go through.” Chris has his hands up, palms flat as he moves to the side. He’s creating sections of dancing light, and JC suspects he could keep walking and still this barrier would go on.

“How do we know something’s on the other side?” It’s a valid question and JC pulls back his hand, turning so he can look at Justin.

“We don’t, but we’ll have to take that chance.”

Hunched in on himself, Justin’s keeps back as JC moves so almost half of one arm is invisible.

“You know, this is stupid. I’m thirsty and my knee hurts and I’m not waiting while we discuss the pros and cons or going through that damn thing.”

Chris runs forward. JC reaches for him but his fingers slip over Chris’ arm and he’s left holding empty air. His hand against an area of space that moves in dizzying waves.

“Chris, you idiot.” Scowling, Justin steps into the waves, making them ripple even further.

“I guess we go in,” Joey says, and his hand is still in Lance’s when they step forward. Suddenly JC’s alone. It’s quiet and lonely and wrong. He steps forward.

~*~*~*~

JC stumbles through the other side. His skin tingles and he rubs his palms against his thighs. He opens his eyes and finds himself in a huge room, the walls and distant ceiling flickering with constant movement. There’s a man standing watching them all. He’s dressed in a grey tunic and pants, but it’s the wings that attract JC’s eyes. They’re large, sweeping down on a sharp curve, the biggest feathers just trailing the ground. Mostly they’re grey, but there are outbreaks of black and white, careful patterns that JC longs to touch.

“Welcome.” The wings move slightly as the man glides forward. “Forgive my haste, but time is our enemy. If you could follow me?”

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on.” Lance’s fingers are white around Joey’s hand and it’s obvious he’s not going anywhere. The man meets Lance’s gaze, then slowly looks at them all.

“I see you’re all in agreement. Very well. We can spare a little time.” He tucks in his wings until they’re flat against his back, standing so still JC wonders if he’s even breathing. “My name is Samuel. I’m in charge of the space between. I help people from one existence to another.”

”We’re dead?” Justin interrupts, sounding shocked.

“Normally that would be the case. But no, you’re not dead. In the simplest terms, you’re on loan to us.”

“On loan to do what?” Chris has moved in front of Justin and looks directly at Samuel.

“To become guardian angels.”

Joey breaks the resulting silence. “Are you telling us that guardian angels exist? And that they’re assigned like some kind of job?”

“Indeed we do exist, and yes, they’re assigned. How else would you get a guardian?”

JC isn’t sure it’s even a real question, but he answers anyway. “I guess I always thought they were with you from conception. A sort of soul mate thing.”

Samuel smiles, and light dances across his wings. “Nice thought, but not really practical. No, guardian angels are assigned, and only when needed.”

“You’re saying that you assign all the angels? Because I can’t see it.” Words laced with mistrust, Chris looks up at Samuel.

“Not at all. I have help.” Samuel smiles again, and his wings move slightly, as if he’s laughing inside. “Now come. Time is slipping by.” He walks towards a corridor that appears in the wall, never looking back to make sure they follow.

They pass many doorless rooms. Some are empty, but most are full. Spaces full of chattering men and women, wings of every colour and size. JC especially loves the room with the flying women, their hair streaming in waves as they swoop up high. He wants to stop and stare into that one, especially when he sees a girl with sparkly pink nails, a blue bow tying back her hair, but Chris grabs hold of his hand and doesn’t let go. Fingers digging into JC’s wrist as they keep walking.

Finally they stop, and Samuel nods his head at a door. “This is your room.” He hesitates then, and his wings splay, feathers whispering across the floor. “Normally guardians are eased into the role. Time has no meaning here, and they have time to grow, to learn. In your case that won’t be so. I’m sorry for that.” He inclines his head and opens the door. “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

He runs, wings spreading wide. Then, with a jump and a series of powerful flaps, he explodes upwards and out of sight.

“I wonder if we’ll do that?”

“Not if I can help it.” Chris says, and he walks into the room, leaving Joey staring at the ceiling.

The room contains five mattresses on the floor. There’s a pile of clothes, pants and tunics that button up the back, and JC’s holding up each item, examining the material.

“We should get some of this stuff for the tour. It’s so light, but tough too. See.” He tugs at the tunic, letting it stretch then spring back into place.

“Yeah, we’ll just tell wardrobe about this great supplier we found. Just die and you too can get the material.” Lance is sitting on one of the mattresses, knees tucked up against his chin. He looks miserable, worrying at his cross necklace, then suddenly gasps sharply.

Worried, JC starts to move to him, then doubles over as pain explodes in his back. It burns, heat searing his skin and tears slide down his face as he collapses on his side. It hurts lying like that, as his back writhes beneath him. It pulls and splits, and he can feel liquid soak his shirt, seep down onto his pants.

Afraid, he reaches out a hand, grasping for anything that’ll make this go away. There’s nothing, and his fingers are claws, digging into the mattress. Panting for air, JC forces opens his eyes, gasps when he sees Justin, on hands and knees, back arched painfully upwards. His head is low, and the muscles in his arms strain as he sobs. Blood slicks down his side and his t-shirt is hanging, torn and sodden as something hard and sharp explodes out of Justin’s back.

“Justin.” Fighting against panic, JC tries to move, to get to Justin who’s screaming now, any meaning lost behind animalistic sounds as his back peels apart, exposing bone that glistens and moves, pushing outward, blood and fluid spraying in multiple droplets. They hit JC’s face, scalding hot and he weeps as he feels his own spine twist beneath his skin.

JC collapses on his front, nothing but raw flesh. The sounds of his friends agony in his ears as the first feathers start to form.

He doesn’t fall unconscious. He’s not that lucky. Instead he lies in a pool of his own blood, each breath laboured, face sticky and eyes wide. His head aches with new knowledge, years of learning condensed into minutes. JC knows all about the guardians. He knows how to fly, how to interpret the markings on the wings, he knows it all. But still, he lies still, afraid to move, his wings heavy against his back.

“There should be water back there.” Lance’s voice is harsh to hear, pain making it rougher, even deeper as he struggles to his knees. “We have to clean up.”

JC turns his head, watching as Lance slowly gets to his feet. His wings are matted, the markings covered, and they leave a wet trail across the floor when Lance helps Joey to his feet.

Gathering strength, JC rolls onto his stomach, pushing up on arms that wobble under his weight. His back burns with fresh fire, and his wings drag him down, unfamiliar as he finally stands. The room is a mess, the mattresses stained and wet. Joey and Lance are standing together; Lance’s snapped necklace hanging lax in his hand. Chris is trying to hold Justin upright, bowed under Justin’s weight, and JC takes hesitant steps across the room. Hauling Justin’s arm over his own shoulder.

JC knows there’ll be another room, a room with warm water and ointment for their backs. It’s part of his new knowledge and along with the others he searches, until finally Joey pushes against a panel of light, and the room is exposed.

It’s warm inside, warm and damp from the streams of water that flow from the roof. Shallow pools have formed under each stream, and JC steers Justin into the nearest one, helping him lie down. Immediately the water turns pink, flowing into the drain as Justin sighs. JC takes the next pool, and the water feels wonderful against his back, soothing the aches of rearranged bones and split skin. He’s lying on his side, wings a wet mass behind him as he rubs at his face and hair.

“You’ve missed a bit,” Chris says softly. He’s in the third pool, and he stretches, wincing a little as he uses his thumb to wipe at JC’s face. “There.”

“Thanks.” JC smiles, and he reaches out, fingers brushing against Chris’ arm as they lie still, warm and almost comfortable as the water flows.

~*~*~*~

JC’s fingers are puffy and wrinkled when he finally moves. The wings are a heavy presence on his back, and he staggers as he kneels. Water drips from his hair, sliding down his body as crawls from the pool, slow movements, feathers wet against his back. The wings hurt still, a deep ache concentrated between his shoulders, and JC winces as he stands.

He can feel the feathers brushing against the floor, a faint pressure, and he moves them experimentally.

“That’s so cool.” Joey’s sitting on the side of his pool. His legs are in the water still, and his wings are spread behind him, feathers dark and glistening against the floor. His back is reddened, dried blood clinging to the shafts that plunge into his skin. Still, they’re obviously part of him, an extension of his body, and when he stands he looks magnificent. Strong shoulders and muscled legs, his skin beaded with water, and the wings – they’re beautiful.

A jewelled purple covered with golden splashes of colour. Each mark signifying an event, Joey’s life-story carried on his back. His family strong linked circles that cover almost one half of a wing. Happy memories and laughter. Friends and Lance. JC can read that mark easily, a friend but more, twisted with the mark for lover. Kelly and Lance, twined together for all to see. Lance glances at that too, and looks down at the water. His wings tucked tight to his body.

“I’m going to try flying,” Justin announces, and he’s out of his pool and shaking his head, water flying from his curls. He’s flexing his wings and they’re a deep blue, feathers sleek as he flutters them dry. JC can’t catch all the markings, he gets an impression of a lost love – Britney -- and a bold mark that has to mean mom. Then he thinks he sees a faint mark, a vague circle linked between two others, but then Justin is gone, kicking off his wet sneakers as he runs for the next room.

When JC follows he finds Justin standing on one leg, wings wide and one hand against the wall as he pulls off his pants. They fall to the ground with a splat, water darkening the floor around them.

“Throw me some clothes will you.”

JC selects a tunic and pants in soft blue, throwing them across to Justin. Leaving him to get changed, JC peels off his own shirt. It’s ripped down the back and clings to his body in wet folds. Pulling it off, he lets it drop, then bends to loosen his laces. He shivers when his wings scrape across the ground, tiny jolts of sensation crawling within his spine. Shoes lose; he toes them off then removes his jeans. The material is heavy, stiff under his fingers as he pushes them down.

Feathers brush against naked skin, and JC hurriedly grabs pants from the pile, pulling them on. They’re soft, sliding over his legs as he takes a matching tunic. Slipping it on, he tries to fasten the buttons, but his fingers feel clumsy, and they slip from his grasp.

“I’ve got it.”

Chris has moved so he’s standing behind JC. He’s still dressed in his old clothes, t-shirt stained and shredded at the back, shorts wet through. His hair stands up in wet spikes, his eyelashes clumped dark. His hands are at JC’s back, fastening buttons, slowing when he approaches the join of wings and skin.

“There.”

JC feels the words against his neck, and turns to say thanks, but Chris has moved away. His wings are tucked tight as he looks for dry clothes, but JC sees enough to get an impression of what they say. Shimmering silver covered in dark grey. Solid family surrounded by those that are lost. Needs and wants and things Chris has always kept hidden. The wings are wonderful in their complexity, their honesty, but still… JC gulps, look down at burnt orange wings, tries to see what his own story reveals.

“An angel and still I can’t get pants that fit.” Chris is muttering to himself, and JC can’t help smiling when he sees the material pooled around his ankles.

“It won’t matter when you’re flying.” Justin has fastened his own tunic and is taking long strides around the room. His wings are open wide, and he makes a series of hops, wings flapping each time.

“Flying isn’t going to happen,” Chris says, and he pulls on his tunic.

“It’s fun.” Justin’s flying for real now, grinning hugely, and a wing tip brushes against JC’s cheek when he streaks past. “Come on, give it a try.”

“Again. No.” Chris is still watching Justin when JC starts to fasten his buttons. They’re small in JC’s hands and he threads them through the button-holes. Silver wings scraping against JC’s arm as goose-bumps appear across Chris’ shoulders.

“Doesn’t everyone want to fly?” Joey winks at JC, wings already flapping impatiently as Lance fastens buttons.

“Unlike certain freaks in this room, I’m content to stay on the ground.”

JC takes a step back when Chris’ wings quiver, swishing against the ground. “It’s okay, I don’t want to fly either,” JC says, and he makes his itchy wings stay still as Lance and Joey take flight.

Chris looks at JC, at the others who are laughing up high. The agony of before long forgotten. “I suppose I could go up a couple of feet.” His wings open, then close when Samuel suddenly appears.

“Forgive me for the brutality of the change. As I said, it couldn’t be helped.” He looks up, smiling as Joey, Justin and Lance land in a thump of feet against floor. “You fly well for novices. This is good.”

“Does that mean we have to fly somewhere?” Chris’ eyes are narrowed and Samuel’s wings glimmer in response.

“No. You don’t have to fly, though it would be easier. The choice is yours young Christopher.” He inclines his head, then walks back out of the door. “Time is pressing and you must go.”

“Go where?” Lance has hurried so he’s at Samuel’s side. Their wings brushing together, emerald green against grey. “You’re not telling us anything, surely it’s better to be prepared?”

“Normally, yes. In this case, you know much already. Just listen to your hearts and you’ll know the answer. Look and you will see.”

“Listen to our hearts? What kind of answer is that?”

Samuel ignores Lance, holding his hands over a panel in the wall. ““The only one I can give. Now, you must go.”

The panel dissolves, showing clouds and sky. Mouth dry, JC tries to take a step back, but Samuel grabs his hand. His fingers are like steel, holding tight as he pulls, and suddenly JC’s falling, plummeting to the ground.

Heart racing, he starts to yell, then his wings open fully, and he’s diving, the wind pushing back his hair. Exhilarated, he twists, wings flapping powerfully as he flies high, circling as one by one the others are thrown too, their wings spreading wide as they automatically fly.

“Tell me we’re near the ground.” Chris’ eyes are shut, and JC reaches for him, veering away when their wings touch.

“Not yet. But open your eyes. It’s beautiful.” JC stays close, watching as Chris opens his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. Where’s the ground?” Always looking forward, Chris follows JC who’s seen an isolated house on a beach far below. It has to be their target, and the others agree, putting thumbs up as they start to zoom, or in Chris’ case, slowly fly down.

The house is small, one story with pale salt sprayed walls. A small garden ends at the sand, wind collapsed flowers and a wooden bench swing looking out to sea. There’s a man sitting at the waters edge, and JC rubs at his eyes when he realises who it is.

They land in the garden, no one speaking until Chris is at their sides.

“Is that Kevin Richardson out there? Because I’m telling you right now. Nick I’ll do, Kevin. Not so much.”

Surprised, Justin looked at Chris. “I thought you liked Kevin?”

“I do, but it’s hell on my neck. I haven’t recovered from last time yet.” Chris rubs at the back of his neck, grinning as Justin turns to look at him.

“You and Kevin? But I thought… I mean….”

“Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” Chris puts his fingers under Justin’s chin, closing his mouth. “Come on, we’d better see what’s up.”

He starts walking, his wings leaving trails in the sandy ground.

“JC. Did you know?” Justin’s looking at JC, eyebrows drawn close and worried.

“Course I did.” He runs his fingers over Justin’s wings, enjoying the feel of silken feathers. “I was there after all.” Leaving Justin open mouthed, JC runs after Chris, “That was mean.”

“Yeah.” Chris is grinning as he pulls at the gate separating garden from beach. “He shouldn’t be so gullible. Kevin. As if. Kristen would have my balls.”

“Or ask you to join in.” Joey’s joined them and JC can’t help laughing at his comment, because it’s so true. Then his laughter fades when he finally sees Kevin clearly, and the problem is glaringly obvious.

Hunched over, his chin resting on his knees, Kevin’s wings are spread behind him. They’re tattered, feathers missing and cruelly cropped. Blood stains those that remain, white tinged pink to deep red. His back is inflamed, skin puffy and raw.

“Kevin’s a guardian angel,” Lance says, and they’re standing close, unsure what to do.

“Was, I’d say.” JC’s wings ache in sympathy and he heads toward Kevin, needing to offer comfort. “Kevin.”

Kevin doesn’t move; just keep looking at the ocean.

“”Kevin, it’s JC.” JC lays a careful hand on Kevin’s shoulder. It feels wet, and when he moves his hand, his fingers are stained red. “Samuel sent us.”

“He want my wings back? Because it’s too late, I did his job for him.” Kevin doesn’t look at JC, and his voice is empty, as if he’s far away.

“You did this?” Horrified, JC looks back at the others who’re standing together, letting JC talk. “Why?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious?” Kevin looks then, and his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. “I’m supposed to be a guardian angel, and I failed.”

“Failed. How?” JC has to ask, but he suspects the answer. The entertainment business is a small world and they’ve all heard about Backstreet’s problems. AJ in rehab, Nick on the verge of a breakdown. It’s been the gossip for months.

“It’s not your fault.”

“They all say that. Not your fault Kevin, AJ has problems that you can’t fix. You didn’t pour the drink down his throat, and yeah. I know that. I know it, JC. But I’m supposed to be a guardian angel, but more than that, I’m supposed to be a friend.”

“I can’t say anything about the angel thing, I didn’t even know they existed until a few hours ago, but I know you’re a good friend. One of the best.”

“Some friend. I was supposed to protect them and I failed”

“That’s bullshit.” Sand kicks up around Chris’ feet as he moves to stand in front of Kevin. “So you hacked off your wings and then what? Jump in the sea and drown because you’re not the perfect guardian angel. How fucking selfish are you? They’re going through hell, and you think killing yourself is the thing to do? You think seeing your bloated body will make AJ stop drinking. Standing over your coffin as your mom cries make Nick any happier. Jesus, Kevin. You make me so fucking mad. So you think you fucked up. Fix things, be there when they need you. This isn’t the answer. You’re….” Chris kicks at the sand, hands in tight fists. “I just… this isn’t the answer you selfish bastard.”

Wings flared, Chris hurries away, and JC’s relieved when Justin follows, running to catch up. Watching, JC waits until they’re talking intently, Justin’s hand on Chris’ shoulder, then turns back to Kevin.

“He didn’t mean it. Well, he did, just. Just, could have said it in a better way.”

“No, he’s right. I’ve been so miserable lately. I’m supposed to be the sensible one, the one people turn to, and I had no one. Had to keep going when everything was going to hell. But Chris is right, this isn’t the answer.” Kevin reaches to his back, touching savaged feathers. “I was so proud when I got these. It took months and I was between for months, learning and growing my wings. No one could see them here, but I could, and now, a bottle of scotch and a pair of scissors later, they’re gone. I’m an idiot.”

“Pretty much,” JC agrees, but he stays close, carefully wrapping his arm around Kevin’s shoulders. “You need to go back.”

Kevin closes his eyes, leaning against JC. “I will.”

“He needs to come with me first, get those fixed.” JC blinks when Samuel suddenly appears.

“You can transport too?”

“I can do many things, Joshua.” Samuel holds out his hand to Kevin pulling him to his feet.

“Thanks, JC.” Kevin sways in place, and his wings drip tiny droplets of blood onto the sand. Then he blinks, looking behind JC to Lance and Joey, then across to Justin and Chris. “But I didn’t know you were all guardians too.”

“They’re emergency guardians I guess.” Samuel smiles, and waves his hand, making a panel of light appear. It clears, and JC can see into a room behind, rows of beds, bustling men bathed in light and Nick Carter.

“Is that….”

“Thank you.” Samuel interrupts. “All of you. Sometimes you need to talk to someone who understands.” He steers Kevin into the room, and they’re gone, and JC is pulled back into space, tumbling free.

~*~*~*~

“I knew flying would rock.” Joey is grinning, trading high fives with Justin and Lance.

“If you say so.” Chris doesn’t appear sure at all. He’s sitting on the floor, rubbing at his back. They’re in their old clothes, but JC can still feel the wings, despite knowing they’re gone. He misses them, the weight and feel of feathers, the ability to fly up high.

“I hope Kevin’s okay,” JC says, and he can’t help remembering when Kevin was led away, bloodied and beaten in spirit.

“He’ll be fine, is fine. We’ve seen him remember.”

JC settles next to Chris. It makes his head hurt thinking about time, but it’s better than thinking about his stomach. The hunger pains returning as soon as they returned.

“I’m so hungry I could eat one of you.” Justin’s settled down, leaning against the wall. He’s looking down at JC and Chris, appraising them. "Not you, C. You’re too skinny for a good meal. Chris though, that leg looks good.”

“In your dreams, baby.” Chris is grinning up at Justin. “Go see where we’re going next. Maybe it’s a restaurant.”

“Yeah, like we’re that lucky.” But Justin does go, walking to the door number five. “Tentacles. Sushi!”

“Sushi, right. It’ll be like that yaoi you read that time. You know, with the tentacles in every orifice. Just you see.”

Justin looks horrified, but JC can’t help being intrigued. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

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