He heard it, though. He heard the dull thud as Lance hit the floor, and he heard JC’s shocked gasp and Joey’s “oh, shit!”

He spun around to see what happened, and Lance was lying flat-out on the ground, his face as white as his shirt, his eyelids fluttering erratically. Justin stared in confusion as Lance lay there, motionless.

No one moved for a good ten seconds. Then all hell broke loose.

Chris yelled at one of the PAs to get the venue paramedics, and the startled girl immediately took off running. Johnny whipped out his cell phone at the same time that JC yelled, “Call 911!” Joey dropped to the floor next to Lance and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him and calling his name.

Justin caught it all in disconnected fragments. Lance was unconscious on the floor. That didn’t make any sense. It was outside Justin’s realm of experience, and so he didn’t know what he should do. No one had ever just fallen down, passed out, whatever, right in front of him before. Certainly Lance never had.

“Lance. Lance, come on, man, wake up. Lance!” Joey’s voice was sharp with fear, and it made the hair stand up on Justin’s neck. He’d never heard that note in Joey’s voice before, and he didn’t like it. It galvanized him into action.

“Joey. Joey, move. Move!” Justin fell to his knees, shouldering Joey out of the way and reaching for Lance’s hands. He had to make sure he was still warm, that the paleness of his face didn’t mean anything. But Lance’s hands were cold, and Justin rubbed one of them desperately between his own. “Lance,” he said, the sound not really making it past the panic tightening his chest, threatening to overwhelm him.

“Hey!” Joey shoved him back, and for a minute they scuffled right there on the floor, practically fighting over Lance’s body.

Furiously, Justin pushed Joey away again. “Fuck off, Joe! Get out of the way!”

Joey started to push back, and then JC was there. “Joe, come on, give Justin some room,” he said, his hand on Joey’s arm.

Joey began to protest, then he got a good look at Justin’s face, and moved back out of the way, glaring. Justin forgot about him completely as Lance’s eyelids fluttered again and he gave a weak cough. He opened his eyes and croaked out, “Justin?”

“Right here, man.” Justin had to clear his throat. “I’m right here.”

Lance clutched Justin’s hand. “Sorry. Just got dizzy for a minute. Let me up.”

“I don’t think so, man.” JC sounded a lot calmer than he had when he was hollering for someone to call 911. Justin figured Lance regaining consciousness had something to do with that. “Wait for the paramedics.”

Lance got even paler, if that was possible. “Paramedics? JC, I’m fine. Just help me up.” He struggled to a sitting position, using Justin for leverage. He closed his eyes and muttered, “shit,” leaning his forehead on Justin’s shoulder.

The production assistant finally came back, followed by a tall, skinny paramedic who didn’t look much older than Justin. The kid seemed nervous, but he dropped his bag and squatted down next to Lance, looking closely at him and asking him quietly how he felt, and making him lie back down again. That helped some. Lance looked a little less pale when all his blood wasn’t rushing away from his head. The paramedic looked up at everyone standing around, watching him anxiously for whatever pronouncement he was about to make.

“We need to get him out of the heat.”

Oh. They could do that.

“And he needs to go to the hospital.” He put up his hands to forestall any objections. “He’s dehydrated and he needs fluids. You don’t have any IV setups backstage, do you? No, so he has to go to the hospital,” he repeated firmly. “There’s already an ambulance here, the one that’s always here.” He nodded his head toward the VIP parking lot.

“Justin, no. I’m fine, just get me some water,” Lance whispered frantically.

Justin shook his head. “You’ll just puke it back up again. I saw you, Lance, before. You haven’t kept anything down all day.” It was true. They’d all seen how sick he was, but Lance said he could perform, and he had.

Johnny decided against using the ambulance, much to Lance’s obvious relief. “We have enough vehicles here at the venue,” he said. “And we’re not rushing anybody off to the hospital in an ambulance. We need to keep a low profile.”

The paramedic looked doubtful for a minute, then shrugged and said, “Okay, I guess that’ll be all right. But don’t waste a lot of time.” Justin kind of wished he’d put up more of a fight. He didn’t think they should waste a lot of time, either.

Justin ended up in the back seat of a van with Lance’s head in his lap. Joey wanted to ride along, too, but Johnny said no, they didn’t all need to go to the hospital. He didn’t really seem to want Justin to go, either, but Justin ignored him and hopped into the van, turning around and reaching out to help Lance climb in.

Johnny sat up front with the driver, and one of their security guys sat in the back with Justin and Lance, watching them, and Justin tried not to let the guy see how scared he was. Lance lay pale and still, his eyes closed, and Justin carefully placed his hand on his waist, making it look like he was trying to keep Lance from rolling off the seat whenever the driver took the corners too fast, instead of like he was holding on tight to his very sick boyfriend to keep himself from freaking out. Justin glanced down and saw a few tears slip down Lance’s cheeks, and once, he thought he heard a sniff. He tightened his grip, and although he wanted to bring his other hand up to stroke Lance’s hair, he didn’t.

“Justin, I think I’m gonna puke again,” Lance whispered, and Justin helped him sit up a little, reaching for one of the towels Joey had thrust into the van just before they pulled away. Lance’s poor stomach was empty, but he heaved helplessly a few times, then slumped back against Justin. “Dizzy,” he complained.

The bodyguard, a new one that Justin didn’t know very well, turned around to murmur something to Johnny, probably telling him that Lance was going to barf all over the car if they didn’t hurry up and get to the hospital, and Justin dropped a quick kiss on the top of Lance’s head before the guy turned back. “Soon, man, we’ll be there soon.”

Lance sniffled again. “Tired,” he said.

“I know.” Lance was still too pale, and his skin was hot and dry. Probably too dehydrated to sweat, Justin thought.

Johnny must have called the hospital, because when they arrived, a guy wearing scrubs immediately came out to the van with a wheelchair. Between them, they managed to get Lance out of the van and into the wheelchair without dropping him on his head, and they headed for the ER entrance. They bypassed the waiting room and then Justin and Johnny were being turned around and pointed in the direction of a private waiting area. “We’ll call you if we need you,” a nurse reassured them.

Johnny was on the phone again, this time to Lance’s parents in Mississippi. He assured them that they didn’t need to catch a plane to Florida just yet, and told them he’d call them when he knew exactly what the deal was. Justin could hear the fear in Diane’s disembodied voice all the way across the room.

Justin should call the guys, Chris, or maybe JC, but his cell phone was in his backpack, which he left in the van. Just as it occurred to him, the driver stuck his head around the corner, obviously looking for them, and he came in and handed Justin his backpack. “Thought you might need this, man.”

“Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” He couldn’t decide who to call. He thought maybe JC would be best. As he opened his phone, he saw he had at least five voicemails, one from Chris, one from JC, and three from Joey. Justin hit JC’s number.

JC bombarded him with questions. “J, man, hey! What’s going on? How is he? What are they doing to him? Is he all right?”

“I don’t know, dude. They haven’t said much yet. C! JC! Shut up and let me talk.” JC shut up. “He’s still with the doctor, and, you know, they haven’t told us anything. He was still pretty wiped in the van, like, dizzy and stuff.”

“You know he’s been throwing up practically nonstop since yesterday,” JC told him, like that was some kind of news flash.

“Yes, JC, I do know that.” Justin was the one who’d sat with Lance half the night while he threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach. He was the one who was there while Lance tried to get something to stay down, anything, water, Coke, tea. Nothing did.

Even Rosie had noticed that Lance was sick when they’d taped her show that morning. Johnny knew, they all knew. It’s not like this should really come as a big surprise to anyone who’d been paying attention. Which Justin had been, they’d just been so busy, and it was easy to get caught up in things, and maybe he hadn’t been paying enough attention. It’s not like Lance had been complaining or anything.

“Okay, man, call us when you know some - hey, Joe, watch it! What’re you do -?”

There was a scuffling noise, then Joey said into Justin’s ear, “What’s going on, Justin?” He sounded scared, and not at all like Joey.

“I don’t know, they haven’t told us anything yet,” Justin said again.

“Well, go see what they’re doing,” Joey demanded.

“I’m not gonna go barging back there, man. He was okay in the van, not much different from how he’s been all day, you know?”

“Yeah, J, I know how he’s been all day. We should have done something about it.” Joey was angry, but Justin didn’t know who he was angry at.

“I know. But you know Lance. He just kept saying he was fine.” And Justin believed him, because that was always what Lance said, and he always was fine.

“You should have known better,” Joey said, and that hurt. “Call when you hear,” and he hung up.

Justin rubbed tiredly at the frown between his eyes. They were all exhausted, they’d been performing almost every night for three months, and he wasn’t going to let Joey get to him.

Next to him, Johnny closed his phone as a short, dark-haired middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat approached them. “Hello, I’m Dr. Mendez,” she said pleasantly, holding out her hand. “Mr. Bass is going to be fine. Let’s sit down.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” she began, and Justin couldn’t tell if there was censure in her voice or not, “Lance has had a stomach virus, and has gotten himself into quite a state. He’s extremely dehydrated, and his electrolytes have been thrown all out of whack. Electrolytes are very important, cardiac-wise. Electrolyte imbalance can cause heart irregularities, and that’s what’s happened here.”

At the words "heart irregularities", Justin jumped to his feet, the panic he’d been holding at bay making an appearance, shooting adrenaline through his body, making his mouth go dry. “What do you mean? Is he okay? What-” He stopped and breathed. He didn’t even know what questions to ask.

“Justin,” Johnny started, but Dr. Mendez smiled reassuringly at them and Justin felt the panic recede a little.

“He’s all right now. But this afternoon, his heart was beating very irregularly, and that’s why he collapsed. When we get him hydrated again, and get some electrolytes replaced, he’ll be fine.” She frowned at Johnny. “But you can’t let this happen again. You have to be more careful.”

Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“Can I see him?” Justin blurted out, interrupting Dr. Mendez and Johnny’s discussion of what to tell Lance’s parents.

Dr. Mendez studied his face, then nodded. “I suppose it can’t hurt. He’s worried, maybe you can make him feel better. Just go down that way to the right, behind the first curtain.”

Justin smiled his thanks and made his way back to where Lance was partitioned behind an ugly salmon-colored curtain. “Dude.”

Lance was looking much better. He had some color, and his eyes weren’t quite as dull. There was an IV in his left hand. He smiled wanly at Justin. “Hey, Justin.”

“You look better, man. Like, really better.” Justin moved to the bed, and took Lance’s hand. It was warm now, and Lance held on tight.

“I don’t know why-I mean, sorry, I just-”

“Lance, it’s cool. It’s not your fault, you know. We’ve just been running so hard, man.” Justin looked around for a chair.

“I know, I guess.” Lance sighed, and then yawned. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, since he’d spent half the night in the bathroom.

Justin let go of Lance’s hand long enough to drag the plastic chair in the corner over to the bed. Before he sat down, he looked hastily at the gap in the curtains and then kissed Lance on the mouth, fast and hard. He took his hand again, and then said, “Everything’s cool. Johnny’s calling your mom, and we’ll take care of the concerts. Just, you know, rest and stuff.”