Once, when Jono was feeling contemplative and poetic, he had said that the gaping hole in his chest was somehow appropriate. That life had burned out his heart but forgotten to put out the fire. He'd liked that so much he wrote a song about it. It was one of his better songs and was quite pleased with it until he realized that very few people would pay to listen to a singer with no voice to speak of.

To say that Jono was enigmatic was an understatement. He was a logical conundrum, a scientific impossibility, a walking miracle, a freak of nature, whatever suits you. There should've been no way he could've survived the accident that scarred him from his head to his chest. Doctors and scientists had scratched their heads and given up, saying there was no way it could've happened. On some level, Jono was pleased that no one could figure him out. He honestly didn't care how he lived, he just knew that he did. When pressed for an answer he'd most likely chalk it up to the fact that he just refused to believe he was dead and his body took his word for it.

In other words, he was stubborn. Not just about death, either, about life and it's many facets. He wasn't a recluse out of want, but because he didn't think anyone would want him around. It had, in the past, been pointed out to him that he was a bit stand-offish. Even before the accident his people skills had been practically non-existent. Considering that Gayle was pretty much the only person he spent any time with and the time he wasn't with her he was in his room, writing songs and seeing how many cans of pop he could drink before throwing up. He loved his family, he just couldn't be around them for very long.

And then came the accident. Gayle had left him, though whether it was because he was a mutant or because she blamed him for it all, he was never sure. All he knew was that she had left and that made the whole thing that much more unbearable. He withdrew farther into the protective coldness and isolation that had protected him from the world before, hoping maybe that if he withdrew far enough the world would forget about him and merrily spin on without him. He allowednothing inside his wall, not his family, especially not the doctors and psychologists they thrust at him. He even stopped writing his songs.

When the letter from Xavier came, he didn't even know why he went. Maybe some subconscious act of self-preservation, maybe he just couldn't stay with the places and people that only reminded him of the things he lost and the things he never got the opportunity to lose.

He never expected to find anything in America except for an opportunity to start his life over. He never expected Paige. In fact, Paige was about the last thing he expected to find in Massachusetts. He hadn't really noticed her when they first met, but then he'd been a bit distracted at the time. His first impressions of her consisted of overanxious, overzealous, and overconfident. Though she did have great hair, he grudgingly admitted to himself one day. And the attraction had started, though he was unaware of it at the time. He had lived in ignorance of his feelings until the day she had gotten drunk. When he felt her hand on his, seen the earnest expression of someone who's drunk and trying to get someone to take them seriously on her sinless face, he felt a stirring from somewhere in the great cavity of his chest. The wall had developed a crack, he realized, and in a moment of pure tension as he looked at her frightened and pitiable face, all the memories he had of her came flooding over him, threatening to drown out the sound of the blood thundering in his ears as she leaned toward him, her intent clear as her suddenly sober eyes. The wall had come up as soon as he had felt her beer-drenched breath on his face but he realized that it had done no good; she was already inside. In a blind panic, he had lashed out, destroying the building they were in and nearly her as well.

Jonothan recalled that as though it were a dream, and sometimes wondered if it were, if he hadn't imagined the whole thing in some half-hearted attempt to get over Gayle.

*Gayle again.* his mind muttered disgustedly. *Get yer ruddy mind off 'er fer a change, Starsmore. Thinkin' about it won't change ther fact that...* But he couldn't finish the thought.

The day before he'd gotten a letter from her. She had apologized for the mess she had caused with Emplate and for the pain she had caused him. She said that this was the only way she could think of to say good bye without causing any more pain or trouble, though she knew it was rather impersonal. She also said that it was the only way she could think of to tell him about Mike. She'd met someone else, she'd moved on. He tried to be happy for her, he really did, but it felt as hollow as he did. Gayle was sleeping with a twenty-one year old college student named Mike and he hated it. So he shut himself up in his room and stared at a staticky television screen, not seeing anything except a picture show of his life with Gayle.

And then there was Paige. If she'd only gotten there a day sooner, things would've worked so well. Maybe Gayle wouldn't hurt so much if Paige had been there to ease the blow. But the timing was off and life was now officially buggered. Gayle was gone and he needed to heal, but Paige needed an answer. There was no answer he could give. He wanted to say yes, but he also knew that it wouldn't be fair to either one of them if he did. So he had asked for time to think about it, which he had been doing for the past few hours without making any headway.

Burrying his face in his hands, he tried desperately to think of anyone he could go to that could give him advice. Penance couldn't, or wouldn't, talk and there was no one else he had developed any kind of friendship with. Except...

_____________________

Getting ahold of Angelo had been more difficult than he originally anticipated. After finally tracking him down and geting them both to a quiet place where they could talk and not be overheard. That quiet place turned out to be the one of the local coffee shops.

"So," said Angelo, lightly blowing on the black coffee that sat before him, "what do you need, amigo?"

~It's...a problem I don't know 'ow to deal with. I thought yer might be able ter give me some advice.~

Angelo assessed his friend's appearance and emotional state over the rim of his coffee mug and decided he looked like hell.

"Women trouble, huh?" Jono gave the right reaction and the coffee turned bitter in his mouth. He swallowed it with some effort and tried to look casual.

"Paige?"

The astounded look on Jono's face told him that he'd been right on the money.

~'Ow did yer--~

"She told me."

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, the combined smells of coffee and cigarette smoke going unnoticed through two sets of nostrils that had been immunized to the odors years ago. Then Angelo cleared his throat.

"She ask you out?"

~Yeah.~

"Well, hey, man, if you don't want to go out with her, then--"

~But I *do*, that's ther problem!~

The bottom dropped out of Angelo's stomach. How long had these two been harboring these feelings? From the look of things, long enough to weigh anchor, dock them, repaint them, and scrape the barnacles off the bottom. Not good.

"Well," he began slowly, making sure his voice didn't crack, "if you want to date her, and she wants to date you, and you both know it, what's the problem?"

~I just...don't know if I should.~

And Jono explained the situation to the best of his ability while Angelo got a sage and thoughtful expression on his face. When the young Briton had finished, his companion let out a low whistle.

"That's a tough one, man."

~Tell me about it.~

"Man..." Angelo whispered. Of all people he probably had the closest idea of what Gayle had meant to his friend. And for her to drop that on his lap just when he was starting to pull everything together again was just cruel. That in and of itsself was going to be hard enough for him to deal with, but with the new Paige dilemma, Jono's life seemed to be turning into the plot for a sitcom.

And of course none of this would be easy on Angelo, though he was doing his best to deny it. But he had begun to wonder just how long he could continue to deny it before something snapped. This would be hard enough for him if he hadn't been involved, but now that he had to give Jono unbiased advice on a subject he was very biased on and then having to live with the consequences either way, it was maddening!

*Okay, Espinosa, think! What would he do if you were in his shoes?* He knew for a fact that Jono would tell him his honest opinion, regardless of any personal stake he might have. That was what Jono needed right now, too. This sort of thing seems pretty trivial when it happens to someone else, especially if they talk about it in a pop song, but when it happens to you, you understand why they were whining so much about it. This was a heavy emotion they were dealing with, a lot heavier than people gave most teenagers credit for having.

And Jono needed an answer. An answer Angelo didn't know if he could give. Because he had recently realized that Paige meant a lot to him. More than he expected she would, and now his chance was getting cut off before he even knew he had any feelings to explore.

As he gave Jono his answer, he gave an inward wince and a curse directed at the lousy timing that put him in this situation.