Looking away
Jonothon Starsmore furnaceface
Previous Entry Share Next Entry
The Massachusetts Academy, Early Spring
Jono had a dilemma.

Or, more accurately, Jono had a whole host of dilemmas, all wrapped up into one tidy little envelope, sitting on his nightstand and staring him in the face. In part, of course, because of his face. The letter was, after all, from Xavier. And accepting the proposal in the letter meant a good many things. Leaving Massachusetts. Leaving Angelo and Jubilee and the others behind. He'd done that once before, when he wound up on Fandom Island, and he wasn't entirely certain if doing it now counted as running, or simply moving forward.

And there was the rest of the dilemma, there. Things had been insane for the members of Generation X, lately. Busy, heartbreaking, not particularly easy, and everybody was dealing with these things in their own ways. Surprisingly, the biggest changes to be seen were in Emma and Sean, both of whom were beginning to worry the surviving members of the team. Now would be some pretty rotten timing for Jono to take Xavier up on his offer to join the X-Men. Right?

His eyebrows furrowed a little as he stared again at the letter, and then shook his head, shoving it into his nightstand. He'd sleep on it for a few more nights, and maybe that would help him figure out just where he wanted to go from here. In the meantime, he was pulling out his phone and firing off a short e-mail to his friends.

Believe it or not, I miss you guys. How have things been?

Jonothon's conversation-starting skills needed work. But it was either this, or listen to Paige go on about rescuing trees from some money-hungry oil corporation for the millionth time.

[NFB for distance, but Open for texts, e-mails, surprise multidimensional visits, anything you don't need a mouth for. If you figure your character got Jono's amazingly verbose e-mail, they did, sure! I'm actually around again! Yay, around again!]

notyourpawn

2011-06-28 01:50 am (UTC) (Link)

She was all right with small novels. Jono was one of the few people who might understand the oddities of her mind, on this. Perhaps it was a British thing. Or an outcast thing.

Not that Alice had ever wandered around with her face on fire, obviously.

I had future children. It was difficult. I couldn't bond with them. They scared me. I felt like a broken toy. My child would hug me, and I would make myself hug back, and my head would be screaming for me to flee. Their affection is so free and easy. I don't believe I'm capable of that. Perhaps I'm only afraid of having it because I'm convinced it will be taken away again.

That would explain why she always pictured her daughter with Matilda's face.

I don't know that I ever apologized for reacting with fear to what you are, that first day. It wasn't centered on you being different; it was the sense of fire, not that the fire came from or was attached to you. I'm sure that didn't feel like any less of a sting, and I wish I could undo that somehow. But I can't, so I suppose there's little point in hoping.

I'm sorry about your -- friend? acquaintance? colleague? compatriot? comrade? brother-in-arms? The one who was lost. I suppose there are many roads out of Massachusetts. What makes this one so attractive? And why the hesitation to decide?

furnaceface

2011-06-28 02:16 am (UTC) (Link)

Outcasts came in all shapes. Being an outcast might have made it easier for Jono to understand where Alice was coming from. Being terrified of whatever the future might hold, however, was probably more likely the culprit in any case of understanding between them.

They seemed comfortable hugging you, then? Free and easy affection doesn't come from nowhere, Alice. If you weren't a good mother, they wouldn't have been so inclined to get close to you. Children don't solicit affection from a parent who never has any to give. What would be the point?

Jono was speaking from experience, there. All he ever had for his parents were bitter words, which he'd never be able to say to their faces. Hell if he had any idea where to find the Starsmores that had brought him into the world. They didn't want to be found. Especially not by a faceless mess that happened to share their DNA.

Fear... it happens, Alice. I can understand a fear like yours was. I know it wasn't meant to be personal. I knew it when you backed away. And it did sting. It always does, when I get a reminder like that about just how different I am. But that's a kind of reminder I can live with. Fire is fire. Hell, it frightens me, too. So it's a fear that I can relate to, as well.

He was... nearly a friend. A comrade, more accurately. We were both working together to face down that more destructive sort of fear, and it turned around and got nasty in retaliation, and we lost him. My way out would take me to a group of people who do the same thing- who want to prove that there isn't anything to be afraid of, by doing the right thing with what we can do. But leaving them means leaving the others, here. So soon after losing Everett, I don't know if I can do that to them.