Blank.

Just blank.

Jack couldn't feel anything as he steered his truck through the town. Everything on the outside was fuzzy and separate, and there, inside the cab, was his own little pool of... of... well, nothing.

He wasn't sure where he was going, why he was going there or whether he was driving lawfully or not. He didn't care.

Ennis had thrown him out.

It didn't hurt like he expected it to, but then, he didn't really believe it had happened. Waiting to wake up, tangled in the bedsheets and sweating from the horror.

He waited a few seconds in the childish hope it all was a nightmare- minutes maybe? time wasn't passing the way it normally did - but no luck. He was still there, partially slumped against the window, clutching at the steering wheel as a vain attempt to hold on. Tears were spilling down his face, blurring his vision, and the back of his throat burned with the effort of holding back sobs.

Jack didn't make a sound until he drew up outside his house and crept inside.

He sighed.

The urge to sob was leaving, apparently expelled with his breath. But the curiously empty feeling remained, like he'd been broken and hollowed out. He couldn't think of what to do anymore, couldn't think of anything except Ennis's face as the mechanic watched him leave.

"Sonovabitch," he whispered, but his heart wasn't in it.

Another image slid into his brain - Christian's vague smile as he flicked Ennis's name and number across the table.

"Sonovabitch..." He tried again, and this time he got some feeling into it.

"You're blaming me?!"

"You can think of anyone else?!"

Christian posed theatrically, pretending to think; sharp movements the indicator of his anger. "Well... You, maybe?"

Jack snorted. "Of course, it's always me. But you fuckin' know that! You let me carry on like that! You damn well knew how it would turn out!"

"Excuse me for wanting you to get your car fixed! And for hoping against all past experiences and bloody obvious fact that you'd finally found the right guy!" He leant forward over his desk, slamming his palm to the laminated wood. "Damn it, Jack! Just stop it!"



In retrospect maybe the Reporter office wasn't the best place to have accused Christian of making his life miserable but right now Jack didn't care at all. He was damn well right, and he was going to prove it. The other employees were still talking away, albeit in slightly more nervous tones than usual, eyeing the two men as they squared up behind their table. Helena was slumped in a chair a few desks away, head in her hands - Jack having thoroughly cursed her out for ever mentioning Ennis, for being so damned nosy and even for being related to her sister. Nearby Randall was slinking around, watching the argument carefully.

"If you hadn't given me his number I wouldn't have ever met him," he snarled, "I wouldn't have fallen in love and I wouldn't have had my heart broke!"

"Get over yourself and stop being so over-dramatic. What would have happened is that you would have spent the rest of your life bouncing from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship. You wouldn't have been happy at all!"

"You think I'm happy now?"

" When you were with him, you were though, weren't you?"

"And now I'm not! It's woulda been better to just not have known!"

"That would be the most miserable existence known to man!"

Jack shook his head. "This one is."

Christian gave him a slow, weary look and sank into his chair. "Whatever, Jack. Do whatever you want. Blame me or forgive me as an innocent bystander. Do whatever you want, because no matter what advice I give you, you'll just go your own way and come right back to yell at me at the end."

Jack stared at the other man for a few moments and then shook his head. "No. No. I ain't fallin' for that shit. You ain't gonna make me feel guilty. That ain't fair, Christian." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, pain evident in his features. "Don't you think I feel bad enough?"

The other man shrugged, eyes fixed down on the desk in front of him. Jack was still vibrating with anger, desperate to do something, like lash out and make someone else feel just how goddamn miserable he was.

But no... That wouldn't work would it? Thumping people rarely made Jack feel better. But there was one thing he could do to make the Bostonian feel a little bit worse.

Randall.

Guilt-trip central right there.

The man in question had snuck closer to the argument and had been eyeing Jack's ass appreciatively. He snapped back into a postion of severe nonchalance when Jack span around.

"When's that game we gotta go to again, Randall?"

"Monday." The sports reporter looked dreadfully smug. Behind Jack, Christian had raised his gaze to stare at the two men in horror.


"Yeah, you told me that yesterday," growled Jack, just managing not to add the words 'you idiot' to the sentence. "What time?"

"Starts at three, but I need to be there early, so we'd have to leave at about noon." Randall's expression indicated that was allowing a little extra time for something other than pre-game interviews.

Jack nodded. "Fair enough. You know where I live?"

"Where you live...?" Now Randall sounded as if his favourite dream was just about to come true.

"Yeah. You're gonna pick me up, yeah?" Jack braced himself; hating the words he was about to say, but needing to say them just to shock Christian and Helena a little bit more. "I need to get ready sure." He scribbled his address down on one ofhis many scraps of paper and handed it over, brushing his fingertips over Randall's in a way that made Christian whisper "Oh my dear god." behind them.

When Randall had tottered off, the columnist turned back around to see the look of shock on Christian's face.

"You... are... so completely fucked in the head," muttered the older man slowly. He shook his head and let out a bark of laughter as though he couldn't believe it. "So totally, completely and utterly fucking crazy."

Jack sneered slightly and snatched his coat up. "I might as well," he spat, "Since he's the only one that actually wants me."

He stalked out.

Being the oldest daughter of her divided family meant Alma Junior Del Mar had grown up fast, if only because while her parents were arguing they had tended to forget their youngest needed feeding and had stormed out a fair amount. So now she was doing her famed impression of a stable, content teenager being happily self-absorbed, while actually being a worried and discontented teenager watching her father mope around.

He was miserable, she could see that, for all the fake smiles he plastered on his face. This was odd, because only last weekend he'd been happier than she'd seen him in years. There had been three months in which Ennis had reverted back to a cheery, playful soul.

And now he wasn't anymore.

This presented a problem because if she asked him what was wrong now her father would simply grunt 'nothing' and wave her away. Junior really doubted it would get better if he didn't talk to someone about it, and as far as she knew he had no friends at all.

She sighed in frustration and stomped across the garage floor to extricate Francie from a gutted car. The little girl was bouncing excitedly on the driver's seat, jabbering madly into something she had held tightly to her face. Junior grabbed her sister, towed her across to the office and dropped her on the new sofa (she'd never found out what happened to the old one).

"Look, Juny!" Francie waved the thing she had been talking into frantically. "Dad's got a phone!"

Junior snatched at it. A brief scuffle ensued that resulted in Francie running to her father and Junior sprawled on the floor with a bruised cheek, a bitemark on her arm and a mobile phone in her hand. It was rather new, stylish and expensive looking, the type of thing Junior wouldn't mind for herself - in other words the type of thing he father definitely would not buy.

The battery was dead too; no matter how many times she pressed the on button the screen stayed dark.

While she was peering at the battery connection and wondering if she could attach her own charger to it, Ennis slammed the door open.

"You better not have been fightin' with Francie."

"She was playin' with somethin' she shouldn't have, dad," replied Junior, swiftly secreting the phone behind her back. "She wouldn't give it up."

"All righ'. Just cause I'd expect you to know better than - "

"To fight with my little sister," finished the teenager. "Yes, dad. I know."

He glared at her but slammed the door shut again and went back to work. Junior relaxed and slipped the phone into her bag. The way she saw it was if it was Ennis's there might be some clue as to the rapid swing from happy to sad. And if it wasn't there might be a reward in it for finding it. It couldn't be said Junior wasn't a financially practical girl.

Several miles away Jack Twist tried, for the umpteenth time in three months, to figure out where the hell he had left his phone.