Author's Note: This story may seem familiar to some of you- your eyes are not deceiving you. This is a revamped edition of The Flight, a Gio fic I added about a month ago. That was intended to be a one-shot; I have since decided to continue on with this story, and use an expanded version of The Flight as the starting point. In addition, I have enlisted the help of one Stuley23, my BGF (Best Getty Friend) and Getty Match, in the continuation of this story....so for those of you who know what this means, yes- this is the 1st OFFICIAL Junastu fic!!

I'm leaving the original story posted for context and posterity, and cuz well, it got some good reviews and who doesn't like to keep those? : ) I've decided to also use names of songs as reflects the mood of the characters, as some of my fellow writers have recently done. The first chapter is named after a great song from The Dreaming (one of my fave bands).

Oh, and I'm just going to warn you- this story opens with a *really* angry Gio.

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I sat in Terminal 7 at JFK alone. Brooding. I kept my eyes averted; not only did I have no desire to allow my horrible mood to rub off on all these unsuspecting shiny happy people, I didn't want to see them either. I didn't want to witness the old couple, obviously still in love with each other after who knows how long, sitting across from me huddled close and looking at each other tenderly- it gave me the sensation of a knife slicing through me. And witnessing the young couple watching their 3 year old play on the indoor playground that the airport provided, as they snuggled and kissed, just made me feel sick to my stomach.

I had had dreams of both of those scenarios, and seeing them flaunted before me was filling me with loathing, a feeling that actually seriously alarmed me. Not so long ago, I thought those dreams might have had a chance. But today was a different day. And I was now a different person.

Unable to stand the presence of these perfect people with their perfect lives, in which they were wanted, appreciated, I got up and stalked towards the Mens room, not even bothering to pick up my bag. What was the difference if someone stole my carry-on? It was common knowledge that life delighted in kicking a guy when he was already down.

Luckily, strangely, the restroom was empty except for me. I looked in the mirror, knowing full well the sight that would greet me. Dark circles under my eyes, and a scowl that I couldn't seem to rid myself of lately. A flat look in my eyes, bespeaking all of the anger and doubts she had dredged up in me with one sentence. I became even angrier looking at my own tortured visage. This wasn't me. I was not a pessimist. I was not a grudge-holder. I was not the kind of guy who wished everyone else to Hell just because my life felt like it was careening out of control. Careening? The recently jaded cynic in me asked. More like exploded into a thousand pieces, most of which were irrecoverable.

The loudspeaker came on, and a perfectly pleasant sounding woman (who I now immediately added to my List of the Loathed) said, "Attention passengers, at this time Flight 754 with service to Rome, Italy will now begin boarding at gate 24. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready for the gate attendant to speed up this process, and on behalf of AirItalia, we hope you enjoy your flight."

Giving my reflection one last dirty look, I exited my little hiding spot. As I walked back toward my abandoned bag, I noted with somber satisfaction that the old couple had apparently already boarded, and the young couple looked like they were having a little spat now- probably related to the fact that their toddler had apparently gotten hold of a writing implement on someone's watch and it had gone unnoticed until she started coloring on their neighbor's recently purchased James Patterson novel. Feeling oddly lighter, and at the same time more perturbed than ever, I got into the boarding line and waited my turn.

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"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. I'm Steve Carson, your pilot, and on behalf of AirItalia and this flight crew, I'd like to welcome you aboard Flight 754 to Rome, Italy…"

The pilot's voice droned into a hum of static-like noise in the background. I watched, without really seeing, the overweight guy in the seat across the aisle in front of me try to get comfortable; clearly a losing battle. My mind drifted predictably; I was starting to feel bipolar. Now I was back to depressed.

I can't believe she did that.

Morosely, I looked at the empty window seat next to mine. Now, a few days later, the shock was beginning to turn into a miasma of anger and sadness. Alternating fits of rage and depression. I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't control it.

How could she do that to me? Toss me out like an old pair of shoes? Easy, another part of my brain replied. She wasn't over Henry, and she never really wanted you. You were convenient; an easy escape from the stifling life he offered.

The thought occurred to me, not for the first time, that going on this trip might be a bad idea. It seemed like it should be exactly the thing I needed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it just would not turn out good. But no way was I going to let her ruin my life goals. Seemed to me she ought to be happy just to screw up her own life. Just then, the pilot's voice filtered back in.

"…will take about 10 hours and 27 minutes today, and weather looks good so far, so we should be in for a nice smooth flight. Please remember that there is no smoking aboard this aircraft…

I chuckled mirthlessly to myself. I didn't smoke, but right about then, if someone had offered me one I might have just taken them up in it. I felt like I needed something, anything to take my mind off of the horrible events of a few days ago. At this time last week, I had been eagerly anticipating this flight. Not that flying was my favorite activity in the world, but the prospect of spending an entire month in Rome and the surrounding countryside was just amazing. Getting to know my heritage; where it was I came from. Finding my flavor. The opportunity to visit the most romantic place on earth had been exciting even when I was planning on going it alone; the thought of being there with Betty had made me feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Had. Past tense.

My attention drifted back to the empty seat as memories flooded me. "I care about you too," Betty had said. " But not in that way."

Bullshit. You're too scared to admit it. Just recalling the sentence put a bitter taste in my mouth.

"And I feel like if I go to Rome with you, I'm just going to be leading you on…."

Leading me on? Because you haven't been doing that for the last…3 months, at least?

I literally felt my lips curving into a sneer at this recalled bit of the conversation. Irritated with myself for going over this in my head for about the 4000th time, I forced myself to look away from the window and focus on the positives.

At least you'll get a clear view out the window. And you can stretch out if you want to.

I felt my own expression darken as I unsuccessfully tried to convince myself that the fact that I was on this plane alone didn't bother me. That it didn't eat me up inside, knowing that she had found me wanting. As if her rejection wasn't bad enough, now I had only that to think of for the next 10 hours, 10 weeks, 10 months…

"Now if you'll please direct your attention to the television screens, we'll be going through the safety procedures…."

I tuned him out completely, and put on my complimentary headphones. Picking a random channel on the in-flight tv, I cranked the volume and closed my eyes, hoping I could drown my own thoughts out as the plane began to taxi on the runway.

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It didn't work. Didn't matter that Betty was the last person I wanted to think about, or envision after I closed my eyes. She was just there. Saying it over and over again. "But not in that way…" My mood grew darker and more hostile with each passing hour of the forced confinement I was living. It was tearing me up inside to think that I had let myself fall so hard, and so deeply in love with someone who could casually dismiss me like that. How could I have been that stupid? It didn't even mollify me to reflect that she had given Egg Salad his ring back. For one heart-stopping moment, I had thought she had chosen me. I thought she had chosen us.

And then it all came crashing down in my face. I wanted to hate her. When she came up to me and delivered that blow, so calmly and portraying no emotion that I could see, I wanted to shout, and argue. And hit something and show her how wrong she was. I wanted to give her the coldest, dirtiest look I could and walk away; be done with it. I wanted to kiss her like I had in the deli that day, except more punishing.

She was lying and I knew it. I kept my mouth shut and listened as the highlight of my life thus far became nothing but a nightmare. A guy can only take so much. But I'd already given too much of myself to continue being treated like that. I didn't say anything; just stood there and fumed. And she knew I was angry when I walked away. I couldn't talk to her anymore. I was just too angry. She tried calling after me; I kept walking. I walked past the rest of the Mode team, celebrating their victory, and the rage really began. How dare they be happy. Celebrating. This…this world that they lived in was so completely false. And she had finally become one of them.

She tried to call me before I left. A lot, actually. I didn't answer any of her calls. Even when I wasn't drowning in my anger, talking to her hurt too much. I knew what she was going to say. She wanted to remain 'friends.' Friends? As if that was even possible. How can a woman shatter a guy's heart and then tell him she still wants to be 'friends with him'?

My mother always taught me that I should forgive and forget, but I really didn't see that happening here. Forgiveness wasn't going to be coming for a long time, so the only thing I could do was work on forgetting. Which I suspected would also be near impossible.

I looked at my watch. 7:27am. The first of the suns rays were peeking through the clouds, and below us all I could see was ocean. We were still over the Atlantic. I wanted to get up and walk; stretch my legs. I wanted to punch something still. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be able to sleep. I wanted to curl up and die.

And the worst part was, she wasn't even feeling this. She didn't 'care about me in that way'; I was suffering alone. And on my own. In another country. I should have been feeling nothing but anticipation, excitement; I had been waiting my whole life for this great opportunity, and now all I could think was how horrible this trip was probably going to be, and how I would remember it all my life because of that. Thanks, Betty. Owe you one. If I had only truly known…..

I knew it would take time. A lot of time. But one day, I'd be over her. Right now I couldn't control how I was feeling. But luckily, I had at least one month in which to get back to my life, and my plan. The plan that she was no longer a part of. The temptation to throw the plan out the window was strong, just because it bore so much of Betty. All those good times, and bad times weren't going to magically disappear from my memory. I just had to weather this thing long enough so that they wouldn't hurt anymore when I thought of them. Or make me feel happy. I wanted to not feel anything where she was concerned. I wanted the whole thing to be dead to me. So I could get on with my life.

The sun was completely up now, coming in through the windows of the plane obnoxiously, and below us I could see land. Europe. For a moment, the consuming darkness that had taken up temporary residence within my body was blinded by the realization that I had gotten here. Maybe a heartbroken, shattered man, but I had gotten here. It felt like a great weight was lifted off my shoulders. If I could just try to put her out of my mind over the next month, I thought, Europe might be able to begin healing me. There were a million things to do, see, experience. And none that I needed her for.

And I had news for her. If she thought we were going to 'remain friends' when I got back, she could jump off a cliff. Perversely, the vindictive part of me couldn't wait to tell her that either…And this was before I arrived at the hotel and was greeted as 'Mr. Suarez.' So much for the restorative powers of Europe….