Adjusting

JC lay still contemplating the futility of locking the bedroom door. It would delay the inevitable by maybe half an hour. Marshall's patience was unsurprisingly limited. He still wasn't moving until Marshall came and made him. He did not want to do this. What was a shrink going to do? Except tell him what a fucking mess he was? That he all ready knew.

Marshall will be up sometime soon, he thought glancing over at the clock. He'd all ready skipped breakfast. But after getting dressed, he just hadn't felt up to going downstairs. Not with the appointment looming. So, he'd lain back down, and proceeded to stare at the walls. Unlike before, however, he was very aware of the passing time. In his admittedly biased opinion it seemed to fucking fly. He heard Marshall's footsteps coming down the hall, and his eyes closed. Maybe he could pretend to be ill? It wouldn't take much. He tensed as the door swung open.

Marshall looked the kid over, at least he was dressed. "Lunch is getting cold."

"Not hungry," muttered JC, not even bothering to lift his head.

Marshall crossed the room, leaning up against the bed post. He nudged the booted foot hanging over the edge with his own. "Starving yourself ain't gonna help. So get up and come get something to eat."

"What if I said I wasn't going," JC growled, the incipient nausea sparking his temper.

Marshall's gaze narrowed. JC didn't have to see it to know. "Don't test me, kid," was the growled response.

Yeah, he'd thought not. JC sighed, sitting up. His eyes darted over to Marshall. The blond was giving him that unreadable look again. It sometimes made him feel like a bug under a microscope. Like the rapper was trying to figure out just what made him tick. Good luck, he thought sadly. He didn't know what was going on in his own head. He highly doubted anyone else would.

Marshall waited until JC had climbed to his feet before heading back out the door. He made his way down the stairs very aware of the shadow at his back. He knew the day was going to be a tough one for Joshua. Over the last week the kid had started getting better. Or so he'd thought. Wednesday night he'd glimpsed the madness lurking just beneath the surface. Joshua as calm and well adjusted as he appeared, was close to snapping. He needed to do this.

"It's just us today," muttered Marshall, opening the fridge.

JC settled onto a stool, elbows on the island. He leaned forward resting his face in his hands. "Hailie?"

"Ate earlier," Marshall said, sitting the salad in front of him. Nothing heavy was going to go over well. He eyed the despondent man, remembering the mouthy stranger he'd first met. The bright eyed kid who'd beamed with pride at a fellow artist's appreciation. He wondered how it was possible to miss something/someone you'd only seen twice. "Finish half that at least," he grunted, dropping onto a stool.

Silence as they ate.

"How are we getting there?" JC asked, stabbing listlessly at a piece of chicken. He was resigned to this. "Are you sure this lady can be trusted?" Mostly.

Marshall gave him another look. Yeah, duh. What sane person was going to fuck over Eminem.

"Here," said Marshall after digging a set of keys out of his pocket. JC took them automatically. He looked from Marshall to the keys. "You're not taking me?"

Marshall shook his head. "Naw, figured you'd want time alone."

Once again JC was astounded by this man's perceptiveness. He had no idea what this 'session' was going to entail but he was pretty sure it wasn't going to leave him in the mood for company. He cast a grateful look over at the man. Marshall shrugged it off. JC couldn't believe he actually had the urge to grin. But Marshall's discomfort just struck him as cute. He glanced back at the keys, then shoved them in his pocket. "These aren't the jeep's."

"I don't drive that around here. The contractor I bought the place from leases me one of their company cars." Marshall shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. For a rabbit food, it was pretty good. Then again the kid had put a lot of chicken in it when he'd made it. He paused. "This place can't be connected to Eminem in anyway. I went through a lot of trouble to make sure of that. Only person actually knows where it's at is Deshaun."

JC could understand that. There were plenty of times he'd wished for somewhere like that. Faraway form prying eyes. He loved what he did. He loved the fans. The fame. Performing. But sometimes it was all too much. He was unbelievably grateful, and touched that Marshall had allowed him into his sanctuary. He was pretty sure though, if he tried to say that Marshall would have a coronary trying to avoid any hint of sentiment. "How far away is the doctor's?"

"Not that far," answered Marshall, standing. JC stood as well; then sat back down when Marshall glared at him, and his nearly untouched plate. "I wanted someone unknown," continued Marshall, dumping his plate into the sink. He sat back down, a bottle of water in hand. "The entire goddamn world all ready knows I was ordered to take therapy. Deshaun did the actual looking, and researching. I just took his word on it. She's all ready signed all the non-disclosure shit. But I told her she needed to do it again with you. I faxed over the papers last week. You ain't gotta worry bout that."

JC dropped his head, shoveling a forkful of chicken into his mouth to keep from babbling out his thanks. Marshall just kept surprising him. He really should just give up on ever figuring out the older man. He was a enigma. While he was a long way from being anything so plebian as sweet, he wasn't the homicidal, criminal he was made out to be. Don't get him wrong, he was quite certain Marshall would spill blood (gleefully) if need be. But there was so much more to him. He was fiercely loyal. The way he talked about D-12 and Dr. Dre proved that. Even though he spent quite a bit of the conversation cursing them out, especially Dr. Dre. Underneath it was the understanding that he'd kill for them. He wished someone Marshall felt that way for him. The thought came and went so quickly it didn't even register in his consciousness.

Marshall let the kid get lost in his thoughts. It would pass the time. There was another half hour before he had to leave. He was eating at least. Marshall studied the bent head. Joshua was barely recognizable as JC Chasez. The spiked hair had grown out until it hung around his face, in curls as silky looking as Hailie's. Days went by without the kid shaving, so often a couple days worth of stubble lined the slender jaw. It made him look a little harder. Less like something that would beak from a little rough handling. With shades, and the distinctly non-sparkly clothes he'd bought the man he'd easily go unnoticed. Not that that would last for long. Eventually, he'd have to go back to N'stink. Marshall growled silently at the thought. He'd half to really keep an eye on the kid then, Em thought. Unaware of the future implied in his thoughts.

Marshall glanced at the clock, then nudged the kid. JC started, then groaned. Pushing back from the table, silently he stood. "How do I get there?" he asked, following Marshall to the garage.

"Follow this street. Make a left...."

JC listened intently. He had no intention of getting lost. He didn't ask why Marshall was willingly letting him go off by himself. He knew better than Marshall actually that he had nowhere else to go. Not if he wanted his life back. While he might have followed Marshall out of a blind desperation, he really did want to get his life back. Over the last two weeks, he'd slowly started to remember who he was. He wanted to be that man again.

Marshall watched JC drive off, wishing the kid the best before he headed back inside.

~~~*~~~

Hailie peered over her cup of cocoa at her dad. He looked serious. She frowned. That look never meant anything good. Okay, sometimes. Like when he'd asked her if she wanted to stay with him or mommy. Or the first time she'd spent the night all by herself at Nicky-mama's. But most of the time it sucked.

"Hail, do you remember what I told you about Mr. Josh?" Marshall asked carefully. He didn't want Hailie hurt by this odd impulse of his, but he didn't want to leave her in the dark. Her little eyes saw just as much as his.

Hailie nodded slowly, mouth scowling. The mean kids. She hated mean kids.

"Well, Mr. Josh is gonna talk to a nice lady about how his best friend was mean to him." Marshall explained, hesitantly. Wary about just how much she could understand, let alone handle.

"His best friend," she whispered, sadly. She couldn't even imagine Aisha being mean to her. Hailie's eyes misted over. How could anyone be mean to Mr. Josh? He was so nice, and funny. He even sang to her now. All the Disney songs without grumbling like daddy.

Marshall rounded the table and swept her up into his arms. "Oh, baby. He'll be okay. Remember you and me we're looking out for him now."

She sniffed once, rubbing her head against his chest. She sat back giving her little kitten growl. "Yeah. And if we ever meet his friend we're gonna beat 'im up."

"Yeah," growled Marshall, without thinking. She grinned her mini-Em grin. "But don't tell anyone though." She agreed quickly. He held her, rubbing his chin into the blonde curls. "Anyway, when he gets back he's gonna be really sad. So, what should we do to cheer him up?"

"Chocolate," she crowed, immediately. "Like Nick-mama said. 'Cept something bigger than brownies. Cookies. Oh, fudgie-cake." She bounced in his lap at the thought. He should have known.

"Okay. But we also need something to make him laugh."

"I know. I know," she cried, squirming out of his hold. She raced out of the kitchen. He followed behind slower. Hailie dug through the rack of DVDs until she found the right one. She held it up to her father. "It always makes you laugh, daddy."

Marshall took it. A smirk slid onto his face. "Ohh, good one, honey."