Family Ties

CHAPTER TEN




CHAPTER TEN

Disclaimers
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A/N Goddess
Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE and Prophetic
Muse…the Geometrignats are back!
InterNutter, TC and Maxwell Pink are groovy for archiving. J
ProPhile is going to get a promotion to Captain Smutmuse soon and
Jubilee, Tex and Ramsey get duck sparkles (er…I think I need to cut back on my
sugar intake here…)
Readers/Reviewers: I really love
you people. Really. *happy dance because you read my fic * *ahem *
Okay. I’ll stop that now…

 

 

 

Jono hated feeling awkward almost as
much as he hated feeling obvious. The
scrubbed-within-an-inch-of-its-existence kitchen he was currently sitting in
made him feel both. The floors,
countertop and walls were a shining white that could only be achieved through
much careful washing and polishing, probably, he thought glumly, on a daily
basis. He knew he looked something like
the world’s largest crow, all angles and black, amidst the gleaming
surfaces. That was the obvious part. The awkward part was the fact he was being
stared at by what seemed to be every person in
Cumberland county, Kentucky as Paige fluttered about him, trying to
arrange his place setting so it would not be so glaringly obvious that he did
not eat. Sit down, Sunshine,
he finally projected, making her jump.
He had been silent for the better part of the day, partially because he
was alone for most of it and partially because the Guthrie family was not eager
for him to speak, period. Except, he
thought grimly, for Paige.

 

Sam looked up from his ice tea, in
which he seemed to be attempting to divine the future through melting ice
cubes, and glared sharply at Jono.
“What’d you tell her?”

 

“Just to sit down,” Paige murmured,
sliding into her seat next to Jono and across from her brother. “Everybody got something to drink?”

 

There was a general rumble of ascent
and then, without warning, one of the Guthrie siblings (Jono was not sure
which…he was terrible with names unless he really gave a damn) started a
prayer. “Heavenly Father,” he intoned,
and Jono officially tuned out. He would
not go as far to say he was an atheist, but he would admit to having severe
philosophical difference with religion, organized or otherwise, at this
particular point in his existence. He
remained in a not-so-pleasant haze, contetingting a green pea that had escaped
it’s friends and rolled into Paige’s mashed potatoes, until the prayer ended
with a general murmur of “amen.” Paige,
he sent after a moment or two of relatively silent eating, I’m going to
go on up to the spare room…it’s no point me being here right now…

 

She shook her head subtly and kicked
his ankle under the table. “Rude,” she
murmured just loud enough for him to hear.
“So, Jono, what’d you do to amuse yourself today while we were gone?”
she asked in a conversational tone.

 

He hoped that she could tell he was
glaring at her with his best “burst into flames” look, but he knew the
expression melted as soon as she turned a bright smile to him. Wishing he could sigh like others could, he
said so all could hear, Nothing.

 

A few of the Guthries shifted
uneasily, Jono’s voice disconceg thg them.
As far as they knew, he was some oddball English teenager, not a
mutant. He heard them trading theories
about his clothing and manner the night before, murmuring and drawling in the
living room while he lay in the bed under the window upstairs, their voices
drifting up with the scent of mud and jasmine after the late rain. He decided that it was almost okay that they
thought of him as a weirdo, some drug-addled punk brat from across the Pond
that Paige felt sorry for, a charity case.
He was almost grateful that Paige did not talk to him again for the rest
of the meal.

 

Sam waited until Jono disappeared up
the stairs before hissing to Paige over the sink full of sudsy dishes, “What
the Hell did you drag him along for anyway?”


Paige closed her eyes and
counted to ten, but it did not help.
“Sam, I don’t know what the problem is with you two, but I wish y
le
leave Jono alone! I lo…” she caught
herself and edited the words as they left her lips, “I care about him. A lot.
I wanted him here because I’m scared, damn it. I’m scared we’re gonna loose mama and I’m scared I won’t be able
to handle it…” She broke off and turned away from her brother, dashing tears
from the corners of her eyes.

 

“Paige,” he said gently, “we’re all
scared…” He laid a hand on her shoulder
only to have her shrug it off. “Look, I
know you k yok you care about him but you just feel bad for him…”

 

“How dare you,” she hissed,
not even turning around. “How dare you
assume to know what I feel? I’m not
four years old, Sam. You can’t slap my hand and say no and give me a toy to
make me forget. I’m seventeen, damn it! I know my own mind! Tell me,” she said, her voice low and tight,
“if I felt like this about Scott or Evan or even Kurt, would you be such an
asshole about it?” She stormed from the
room without a backwards glance, slamming the kitchen door behind her. She debated going outside for the briefest
of moments until she remembered the torrential rain earlier that day and opted
instead to go upstairs, all the way up, all the way to the cramped attic.

 

Jono peered between the stacks of
boxes, most oem oem older than the two teenagers’ ages combined, to find Paige
in a huddle, her face pressed to her knees and fingers laced tightly around her
ankles. For a moment, he thought that
she was asleep, but a faint sniffle told him otherwise. Sam?

 

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “How’d ya guess?”


I heard the two of you
earlier, in the kitchen. I think the entire
family heard you… It was a
slight exaggeration—he had only heard them because he was just outside the
door, having returned to ask Paige, in a moment of bravado, if she would like
to go for a walk. He halfway regretted
coming back, hearing Sam pick at her as he had. You…care for me then?

 

Paige sighed and uncurled herself from the cramped
fetal position she had been in, looking up at Jono balefully. “Don’t be a dick, Jono. You know I do.”

 

Ah. He made a gesture and she nodded, telling
him that yes, he could sit on the floor with her. You shouldn’t let Sam get on your nerves so much,
Sunshine. He’s your older brother,
bound to feel proprietary…

 

“It’s not that,” she began, then
burst into sudden, and, for Jono, unexpected tears. She flung herself into his arms, an awkward occurrence mainly
because it involved a great amount of flexibility on her part and a certain
amount of allowance of physical contact on hisfterfter several sobbing minutes, she said thickly, “They think
Mama’s gonna die…she’s got ovarian cancer…”

 

Jono winced. He awkwardly patted her back and
experimented with stroking her hair as she wound down against his
shoulder. I’m sorry…

 

“They’re gonna start chemo in a few
days and do a total hysterectomy…” Paige
shook herself and seemed to realize the pretzel-like nature of their
position. “Sorry. Sure you really want to hear all the
details,” she murmured, letting go and sitting back.

 

It’s okay…if you need to talk…
he trailed off and managed a shrug. I’m
sorry I made your family uncomfortable at dinner. They think I’m trainspotting you know.

 

Paige laughed weakly. “They’re full of theories about people from
London and Paris and any other major city they’ve never been to. Hell, they thought I’d come home from New
York pierced, tattooed, pregnant and shaven headed.”

 

Interesting mental picture,
he said flatly. She giggled, leaning
into him again. What was that
for? he asked when she moved away.

 

“Because I can.” She shrugged, a mirror of his earlier
gesture. “I’ve been thinking a lot
lately and I…well, there’s something I kinda want to tell you…”

 

You really did shave your head
and all that blonde hair is a wig?

 

“Dork. No. Jono…I have to ask
you something kinda serious…”

 

He had a sick feeling as to what she
wanted to ask. You just said you
wanted to tell me something…Which is it, a statement or a question?

 

Paige frowned, knowing a diversion tactic when she
heard one. “Question first.”

 

Jono wished he had lips to
lick. He was in desperate need of a
nervous gesture at that moment. Paige,
I think I know what you want to ask…I can be honest with you but you won’t like
it. She remained silent but
regarded him with nearly hopeful eyes, the hurt already creeping in to destroy
the innocent need. I know how you
feel about me and…and I feel the same.
More, actually. I care about you
so much that I can’t let anything even start to happen with us…What’s occurred
already is too much as it is…

 

Paige was on her feet so fast that
Jono nearly fell over backwards. “I am
so fucking sick of people thinking they know what’s best for me! And what’s more,” she said, her voice nearly
a growl as she bent over Jono, not even noticing the mild surprise in his eyes,
“I’m just about sick of you being self pitying. I know it sucks, what happened to you but God damn it, Jono,
can’t you even try to let yourself be happy?”
She stopped just short of giving into a childish urge to kick his
knee. Her hands on her hips, she was
almost panting as she glared down at him, waiting for an answer of any sort.

 

Sunshine…Paige… he
began, not sure how to continue.

 

“You know what?” she said, cutting
him off before he even really got started, “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want the list of reasons why we
won’t or can’t work, according to Jonathan Starsmore. I don’t want to hear why you’re not good for me or I’m not good
enough for you. If I wanted that line
of bullshit, I’d talk to Sam. I’m going
to bed. In the morning, I’m going to
visit my mother in the hospital. If you
can think of one good, solid reason why we won’t work, tell me when I come
back. And,” she said, holding up a
finger in declaration, “none of that ‘I’m half a mahit hit you were bitching
about last month to Kurt.”

 

Jono watched her go with as close to
an agog expression as he could muster. How’d
you know what I said to Kurt? he finally mustered. His only answer was the slam of her bedroom
door.

 

 

 

Jean sighed and scratched idly at a
smear of paint on her nose. It was far
easier, she reflected, to use telekinesis to paint a room than manual labor,
but the downside was that it seemed to be drippier. “Hey,” she called as she heard Scott tramp into the kitchen from
the yard. “Don’t come in here yet…the
ceiling is all drippy.”

 

There was a short pause and then,
“How am I supposed to get upstairs to shower then?”

 

“Hmm…good question. Want me to send you through the bedroom
window upstairs?” she asked, heading towards the kitchen and trailing her
paint-spattered over-shirt and kerchief behind her.

 

“No thanks,” he said, shaking his
head for emphasis. “I’ll just wait…last
thing I need is for you to find out you suck at levitating people as I break my
back in the rosebushes.”

 

Jean smirked. “Looks like we’re both
stuck down here without access to the shower…”
She eyed Scott speculatively.
“You’re already all sweaty…”

 

Scott wilted inwardly. He wanted to…Lord knew he wanted to…but he
couldn’t. “Jean,” he sighed, pushing
her away gently. “Not now…I’m tired.”

 

“Oh.” She retreated back to the other side of the kitchen. She felt diminished, somehow, as an uneasy
silence settled between them. The sound
of Scott opening a soda was preternaturally loud, making her twitch
slightly. Absurdly, the first thought
that sprang to her mind was, And he didn’t even offer me one! She tried not to let her irrational
annoyance bubble to the surface but she found it quite difficult, especially in
light of his next comment.

 

“I think I’m going to drop out of
school.”

 

“Scott!” she said, appalled, “it’s
our last year!”

 

“So?” he said gruffly. “Fuck it.
I don’t need it…It’s not like I’m going to college or anything, not if I
have to find a job and help support us while you go…”

 

She stiffened. “Are you trying to blame your stupid
decision on me?” She received no answer
but a shrug as he sipped his orange soda.
“I’m not sleeping here tonight,” she said roughly.

 

“Where’re you going?” he called
after her.

 

“The main house,” she snapped,
already sending clothes into her overnight bag before she even gained the top
step.

 

“We’re not welcome there,” he said
petulantly.

 

“Wrong, bucko,” she snarled, “your
attitude problem isn’t welcome there! We are!” She did not hear what else he may have said as she accidentally
caused several glass bottles of perfume on her side of the dresser to
explode. “Shit,” she hissed, reaching
for the trashcan to clean it up, then pausing.
He wants to be a prick, he can fucking clean it up himself! Jean grabbed her bag and stomped down the
stairs, not even looking back as she left the house