Hank McCoy stared at the young man in front of him. Though he was used to seeing Angelo Espinosa’s skin a dull gray, today the very sight disturbed him. But he did his best to hide the worry behind a fake smile. “Well, Angelo, physically, you’re fine, though I’d advise that you stopped smoking.”

“So you’ve told me before,” Angelo said as he pulled his T-shirt back on. “Anything new?”

Hank sighed and took off his glasses. “From what you and the others have told me, you’re suffering from a very unique case of amnesia. As Jonothon told you earlier, you might call it mild insanity. You’re having trouble distinguishing between reality and fantasy. Anything real that you can’t recall, your mind instantly classifies as a dream, or erases entirely. According to my calculations, you’ve forgotten almost two months.”

“So what can I do to stop it?” Angelo asked.

“I would suggest refraining from any activity that could cause bodily harm or extreme stress. Including smoking.”

Angelo nodded. “Yeah, I got all that. But what about Monet?”

Hank tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never been one to give advice on matters of the heart, but in your delicate condition, I do have one recommendation.”

“What’s that?”

“If it seems right, do it. Even in this state, your mind will be able to offer slight suggestions to you. They’ll be the first step to regaining the two months that you’ve lost.”

* * * * *

“So what’s the verdict on Ange?” Jubilee asked, popping her gum loudly.

“Dr. McCoy says we should encourage anything he wants to do, but not to force him into doing anything,” Paige said.

Jubilee snorted. “So he forgets a few days, and suddenly he gets to boss us around?”

“We’re only encouraging his memory to return, my friend,” Mondo explained. “His disoriented state is going to affect the whole team.”

“That’s only cuz Miss Priss is leading the team,” Jubilee replied.

“That’s not fair, Jubilee,” Gaia said. “Monet’s changed since she and Angelo got together.”

“Yeah, she sleeps in his bed instead of hers,” Jubilee chuckled.

Ev elbowed her in the ribs as Monet walked into the room. “Hey, Monet! What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “Has anyone seen Angelo?”

“He’s in the rec room with Jono,” Paige told her. Monet turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

* * * * *

Angelo lined up the shot in his mind. “Eight ball, corner pocket,” he muttered, tapping his pool stick on the tiled floor. He’d made this shot many times before, but there was a greater challenge this time. It seemed that he’d lost two months worth of his skill at pool, since Jono had somehow managed to beat him three games straight. After the third game, Angelo took the hint and gave up. Jono had left him to practice on his game nearly two hours ago. Slowly but surely, he was improving. That’s what he thought, anyway.

After taking a few deep breaths, Angelo tried his luck. The white ball slammed into the eight ball with jarring force. Too much force, he knew instantly. The eight ball rolled past the corner pocket, bumped against the side of the table, and rolled across the green surface. Much to his surprise, it took a diagonal path and stopped on the edge of the opposite pocket, teetering there for a moment. Then it clattered noisily as the ball fell inside. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to retrieve all of the balls.

“Nice shot,” a voice said.

Angelo paused and looked towards the doorway. Monet stood there, staring at his face intently. “Just luck,” he replied, gathering the rest of the balls on the table.

Monet slowly walked in and stood on the other side of the table, watching in silence as he centered the balls with a triangle. “Mind if I play?” she asked timidly.

Angelo glanced up at her as he reached for his pool stick. There was nothing shy about the Monet St. Croix he remembered, but then, he couldn’t count on what little he remembered anymore. “Play against you? The girl that gains instant knowledge about anything from a glance?” he asked, wondering if she was serious.

Monet blushed slightly. “I’ve never played pool before,” she swore. “Daddy always said it was beneath me. But I want to try.”

Angelo shrugged. “Ladies first, then.”

With a faint smile, Monet grabbed a pool stick and studied the formation before her. In a few seconds, she had lined up her shot.

The game didn’t last five minutes. Angelo never even got a chance to play. In three short tries, Monet had cleared the table completely.

“You know, the idea is to only get your balls into the pockets,” Angelo calmly explained when she was done. “The rest were mine.”

Monet blushed again. “Oh. Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said, setting up the balls again. “Remember, the black one is the last one you try to sink.”

Monet nodded and set up her first shot.

Again, Angelo didn’t get a turn. To make things worse, he could tell that she’d tried to miss a few times. She never did.

“Was that better?”

He nodded. “Much.”

Monet set the balls up in a triangle while he leaned the pool sticks against the back wall. “Angelo?” she asked suddenly. He turned around, only to find that she had been right behind him. “Do you love me?”

Both the distance between them (what there was of it) and the question caught Angelo off guard. Still, while Monet’s feelings were important, he wasn’t about to lie to her. “I don’t know,” he said at last, looking into her eyes.

Monet turned away from him, unable to stop her tears. Temporarily blinded by them, she tried to walk in the direction of the door.

Angelo’s hands on her shoulders prevented that. “M, listen to me,” he said gently. “I know this must be hard for you, but I can’t remember anything from the past two months. Including whatever happened between us.” He slowly turned her around and lifted her chin. “I can’t promise that I’ll get my memory back, or that I’ll feel the same about you if I do.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But I can’t stand to see you cry and know it’s because of me. So I’ll do whatever it takes for us to stay together.”

Monet blinked and looked at him. “Thank you, Angelo,” she said at last. She started to walk away, but he stretched his arm out and caught her wrist. Monet gasped quietly as he pulled her closer. Then she sighed happily and welcomed his embrace.

As he hugged her, Angelo could swear that the feeling was very familiar. He knew right away that Monet was the key to getting his memory back.

“Yes,” she said instantly.

“What?” he asked in surprise.

“I’ll help you get it back,” she explained, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I can read your thoughts, remember?”

Angelo nodded. “Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

Monet smiled and lightly brushed her lips against his. “Maybe tomorrow night, Angel. You need rest.”