Jake's just eating a breakfast sandwich, minding his own business, when Jean-Paul turns up and things get complicated, as they do.


Jean-Paul had finally opened the gift Jake had given him. He figured he'd put it off for long enough. That, and curiosity had overcome his lingering hostility toward the inanimate object.

He honestly hadn't expected a snowglobe. Jean-Paul wasn't sure what he had expected, but this wasn't it.

Snorting, he shook his head in rueful amusement and smiled despite himself.

Which was why he wound up in the city, flying toward the park near Jake's old place of residence. It was plausible that the old one could be the same as the new one and Jean-Paul felt like at least thanking the younger man. He wasn't sure why he felt like it, but he wasn't going to argue with himself.

A quick in meant a quick exit and Jean-Paul was very good at those.

As luck, for good or ill, would have it, Jake actually was in the park that morning. With something a bit more substantial than a typical pastry, with actually eggs within a roll. Quite likely a necessary intake of protein to overcome a hangover. Other than a bit bleary-eyed, though, one wouldn't have known, except for the unusual breakfast choice.

He watched a squirrel skitter around the park bench, looking up, some nut or another in its paws, before darting off to a tree several feet away.

Setting himself down behind a few trees so that the few people in the park wouldn't be too horribly startled by his appearance, Jean-Paul brushed leaves from his shirt and then walked out into the park. He stopped behind the bench where Jake was eating. It was still odd to him, this new face the younger man was wearing. He supposed he shouldn't find it so strange, given his best friend was a shape shifter, but he couldn't help it.

He'd known Jake so well before everything had gone so very, very wrong. This new face... he couldn't make himself get used to it.

Reaching down, he tapped the other man's shoulder. "Eggs? Why are you eating eggs?"

To say Jake was stunned would be quite an understatement. Any practice out the window, visible shock flickered across his face, replaced by merely stunned, and finally back to a more controlled observation. "Eggs are part of a balanced diet," he finally choked out.

A second later, he slid over on the bench, making room for the other to sit. "What can I do for you?"

"For you? I think eggs are not so much a part of a balanced diet. Not unless they are part of a pastry instead of inside it," Jean-Paul said, considering the space the other man had made for him as well as the strange array of emotions he'd seen on Jake's face. Finally, he took the seat before deadpanning, "I need you to help me hide a body. Can you do this?"

"Height? Body weight? How long far gone?" Jake replied automatically. He paused a moment, then waved the makeshift sandwich at the other. "It's pretty vile. Not nearly enough sugar. But I hear it's the best thing..." he trailed off, realizing he was starting to overshare. "Can't say as I expected to see you here this morning."

"You did not put any bacon on the sandwich?" Jean-Paul was a big believer in bacon. And ham. "I wanted to thank you," he began, only to pause a moment later because... this seemed oddly familiar.

Again with the stunned look. Jake peered at the other man, the bacon comment going completely over his head. "Thank me?" he asked, dubiously.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, reverting to French in his confusion. Why did this seem familiar. "For the snowglobe. For my birthday." He'd never visited the park, he thought. It was just that it was near where Jake once lived and old habits died hard, no matter which face the younger man wore. He had a feeling he didn't want to actually figure out why this seemed familiar.

Still, he pondered it for a long moment before shaking his head in a physical attempt to rid himself of the bizarre feeling.

"Oooh," Jake finally said after a moment. "Je vous en prie," he finally replied, easily reverting to the French nicety as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Really. It was nothing. You didn't need to come all this way..." he added cautiously, in English again, the coincidence of running into him here at odds with the unlikeliness of the idea.

It came to him all at once and Jean-Paul could do nothing but blink for a moment. Of course. This is where I told him I'd cheated on him with a man named Tim and that he'd have to get tested. His chest hurt as the memory flashed through his mind. But I wouldn't - would I? Had he? This memory wasn't really like the others, the ones that involved violence, the ones he knew weren't real.

"Mon Dieu," he whispered, knowing that he'd been wrong to treat Jake so poorly these last several weeks but unable to come up with the words to properly apologise.

"Are you ok?" Jake asked, watching the blood drain from the other man's face. "You...look like hell. About as bad as I feel. Did you eat this morning?" he asked, half extending the sandwich.

"Non," Jean-Paul said, waving the younger man's sandwich off. He felt physically ill. "Jake," he said. "Jake, I'm sorry."

He didn't remember saying that to the younger man before, when he'd originally told him. In fact, he didn't remember feeling any remorse at all.

Jake didn't remember it being said to him before either. Not that he said it very often himself. But this apology caught him completely off guard, even more than seeing Jean-Paul here in the first place. "Um, ok," he said finally. "For what?"

Jean-Paul gestured to the park around them, the bench they sat on. "I did not apologise, did I? When we were here before." His thoughts were muddled now, but that couldn't be helped. How could he apologise now, so many months after the fact?

"When we were here before..." Jake repeated, as he tried to recall the memory. When were they there before. "No, I guess you didn't...?" he trailed off, leaving room for the other to elaborate.

"Mon Dieu," Jean-Paul repeated, bracing his elbows on his knees as he reevaluated... everything. "You were right, of course," he said, then switched back to French because it was easier. 'And I had no right to be so upset with you after Wanda, given what I did - the way I told you."

He remembered Tim. He remembered small things, details that couldn't help but mean it was real. There was Tim and the rush to remove clothing, no using protection, enjoying himself, not caring about Jake.

"I," Jake started, and failed, that particular memory not one he'd expected to draw upon this morning. "Well, I...I guess whatever we were or weren't...whatever that was. I guess I can still see why you'd be upset."

"No, no," Jean-Paul said, running his palms over the fuzz that was his hair now. "No, I had no right to be so angry. Not after what I did. What a hypocrite I am."

Speechless Jake is a rare thing, something to be appreciated slowly, like a fine wine. His mind played over the admission, but of all the things he'd called Jean-Paul in his mind since then, "Hypocrite" wasn't one of them. Not arriving any anything, though, he finally shrugged. "I didn't expect it would...take things where it did."

Something in the younger man's tone caused Jean-Paul to look at him. Slowly, as though he wasn't sure of the words he was speaking, he asked, "You are not angry?"

"I was the other day," Jake finally admitted, thinking back to leaving the mansion after their last meeting. "But now...I guess I just have an easier time than some people letting the past be...the past."

"I couldn't forgive something like that so easily," Jean-Paul said, voice soft. Then, almost incredulous, "How are you not angry with me? After I tell you I've slept with another man, that I didn't even bother to use protection - how are you not upset?" Come to think of it, though, he didn't actually recall Jake being upset at the time. He remembered telling the younger man. He remembered not being worried about the repercussions. He remembered - fondly - having enjoyed the encounter with Tim. But he didn't remember Jake's reaction to the revelation.

The not-so-enjoyed sandwich slipped from Jake's fingers, landing at the foot of the bench. Eggs. Who needs them? His head swiveled, squinting at the other man. "You...did what?"

Jean-Paul squinted right back at Jake. "Here. I told you what I'd done here, in this park. Last year."

"What did you do in this park?" Jake wasn't being coy, just confused.

"I told you about the man I... that I... cheated on you with." Though could it really be considered cheating when Jake flatly refused to commit to anything in any sort of permanent way? Perhaps it was for the best, given the way things had gone - given the way he, himself had acted.

"You did what?" Jake wasn't trying to be difficult. It was just his nature. He glanced around the area, looking for some sign this was either a joke or a dream or something. "You...never told me that."

"But I did. Here. Last year." Jean-Paul was more confused than anything now.

"You really didn't," Jake said, slipping into French in his response. "We've...never been here together. So...he...this was while. Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Just...why are you telling me now?"

"We've... never been here?" Jean-Paul asked, straightening so the bench back hit his shoulder blades, biting in almost painfully.

"Well, I have. And you probably have too," Jake corrected after a moment. "But no, I don't remember ever being here together. And definitely not with you telling me something like that."

"You're sure?" Jean-Paul doubted much about his memories, but this one... this one had a different flavour from the others. He'd been able to work through them, to point out the flaws in logic. But this... he remembered Tim, he remembered telling... someone. It had to have been Jake, didn't it?

"I think that's something I'd remember," Jake nodded, looking more past than at the other man. "Whoever you told about your...fling...it wasn't me."

Standing up, Jean-Paul walked away from Jake, frustrated with himself more than the younger man. He turned back, though, and said, "I do not know what is real. Or what was real."

"You're just going to leave after...that?" Jake asked, incredulous, though without any apparently intention to follow. "Guess I rubbed off on you more than we realized." He paused a moment, studying him. "So are you saying you did or didn't...cheat," he finally settled on the English, for lack of a word that better fit their situation.

"I am not leaving," Jean-Paul said, frowning at Jake. "And you did not rub off on me." At least he didn't think the younger man had. He hoped Jake hadn't. "Give me a moment, please." If he could get his thoughts in order, maybe he could make some sense of them.

In response to the request, Jake was silent. At least verbally. His roaming eyes followed Jean-Paul's every moment, practically speaking his impatience themselves. It began to spill into other signs, fingers drumming on his knee, head bobbing, almost counting off the seconds in a "moment."

Jean-Paul tried to think back to the root of the issue he was currently having. He had the images in his mind, he had the sense-memory - he even had the utter lack of apologetic feelings. And that should have been a red flag for him. Should have been, but it all flowed so seamlessly together, none of the jerks, stops, pauses he'd become almost accustomed to dealing with over the past few months.

So he sat on the grass in front of the bench and took a slow breath, attempting to center himself as he'd been doing in the bi-weekly meditation sessions he'd been having. Jean-Paul wasn't really someone who was given over to self-contemplation, to the steady in-and-out of breath that people said was so important for meditation. But he had to follow the strands of his broken memory back to a point where things made sense so that he could piece the broken bits back together.

Jake's finger tapping wasn't helping.

Staring at the younger man, Jean-Paul narrowed his eyes and said once more, "You are very sure that you and I have never been here?"

"Very sure," Jake finally replied, as he leaned forward from his seat on the bench. Like a civilized person.

"Accouche," Jean-Paul muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes - he could practically feel the impatience coming off of Jake. Though the meaning of the whole saying - accouche qu'on baptise - had him smirking just the smallest bit. Neither of them would be giving birth to anything ever and, even if one of them somehow came into possession of a child... well. Jean-Paul was an atheist and Jake was Jewish, so neither of them would be baptizing their theoretical progeny.

"You don't know what happened to me last summer, do you? Not all of it, anyway." The French was softly spoken and Jean-Paul frowned, shaking his head. Wrists resting on his knees, his fingers immobile, he concentrated on the memories that he knew had to be real, staring at the metal of the bench were Jake sat instead of at the younger man himself.

Sorting through the mess his mind had become... wasn't easy. He knew certain things, but they didn't make sense, given the context. Maybe if Jake hadn't been so confused, if he'd just taken what Jean-Paul had said at face value, if he'd gotten angry and they'd begun fighting... the Quebecois might never have realised that anything was wrong.

But Jake had come into his life long after his HIV scare, long after he'd begun using protection no matter who he slept with. And Jean-Paul had never been the type of person to cheat on someone, he knew that about himself, at least. Have a great deal of casual sex more often than was wise - yes. Sleep with someone when he was in a relationship with someone else - no. Even if that other person didn't qualify whatever they were doing as 'being in a relationship.'

"Not...the whole of it," Jake finally answered. There was caution in his tone, both unsure of what to say...and what the other might say. "I've put some of it together from the pieces you've told me." And the pieces he'd heard while the other slept, though that part was left unsaid. Not that there were more than a handful of those nights before...he put those thoughts aside.

"Bon," Jean-Paul murmured, wondering if he should clarify the whole of the situation or simply give the younger man the pertinent information. He took a slow breath through his nose, held it for a moment, and then exhaled it before continuing, "The things I remember. They are not always real. Sometimes, it is that someone has hurt me. Sometimes, it is that I have hurt someone else. Sometimes, I am left to believe that I enjoyed hurting that person. Sometimes not. The point is, these memories - they are not mine. But I do not always know this." He paused again, frowned slightly, and then finished, "This is a very different sort of memory, though. I believe it is false."

Jake was quiet for a very, very long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was not his usual one. "Ok, but...do you want this one to be false?"

"Oui," Jean-Paul said. "Very much so." Who would want to have that sort of confirmation about their character? Who would want to have to live with themselves, knowing they'd done something like that to someone they cared for?

Again with the silence, but Jake eventually spoke again, quelling whatever inner voices might keep him from saying it. "Well, from everything I remember, I don't think this one ever really happened. So...rest easy."

"Truly?" Jean-Paul wasn't sure how to interpret the silences that lingered between Jake's words, nor the expression on his face.

"C'est vrai. Truly." Jake said. And though Jean-Paul likely wouldn't understand it, he added a German "For certain," mostly to himself, half-wondering why he was trying to reassure the man. "We never had this conversation. And, I guess I can't speak for certain, but knowing you, I'm guessing the other part never happened either."

"Merci," Jean-Paul said, still not quite sure he trusted Jake's expression. "The other... oui. I hope that it, also, did not happen." He remembered having to tell someone that they needed to get tested, but that didn't feel quite right. His thoughts were muddled now - he was going to have to spend time attempting to piece the correct progression back together. And that was assuming he could manage to figure out which pieces were in the wrong places.

Jake was apparently in a forgiving mood. "De rien." A scarce moment later, he added the more formal "“Je vous en prie," the relationship with Jean-Paul clearly undefined. And finally, his voice flopped, a verbal throwing up his hands. "Ok, so what now. Because this...with last time I saw you...Frankly, you're confusing the hell out of me."

Jean-Paul unfolded his legs and braced his palms on the grass behind himself, then smirked at the younger man. "I don't know. Welcome to my world. Righteous anger seems somewhat misplaced now, doesn't it? Not to mention time consuming and exhausting. So... truce?"

"Truce?" Jake's tone fell in the exact middle between bewildered and offended. "I try to patch things up and you throw me out on my ass...then this...and you don't know if you should feel guilty or...what? Are you waiting for the next excuse to for 'righteous anger?' Or do you really want truce?"

"If I didn't want a truce, I wouldn't have suggested one," Jean-Paul answered, one brow rising almost imperiously. "And I have been angry with you for a very, very long time. Do you need a list of the reasons? I could give you one, but that would defeat the purpose of suggesting the truce. Do you want it, or not?"

"I," Jake started, anger momentarily diffused. When he finally continued, he said, "Yes. I do. I don't want...that...between us."

"Bon," Jean-Paul said, tipping his head back for a moment so he could look at the sky before pushing himself up and standing. "Then we have a truce."

Jake watched as Jean-Paul stood, studying each movement. "Truce," he said, toying with the word. "Well, I'm game if you are. And I guess we'll work out what that means as we go."

"I will not glare at you anymore, nor be so rude. And you..." Jean-Paul paused, blinked, and then shrugged. "And you will do whatever it is you do, oui? The fighting, it will not happen. Not from me, at least. This is good, I think." He brushed off the seat of his jeans, then his hands, and glanced skyward. "And thank you, again, for the snowglobe. I did not think you would remember how well I like Naples."

"I'll...try not to do anything that deserves a glare?" Jake offered with a playful grin. Then he turned a bit more serious, with a nod. "Yes, it will be good. The not fighting, I mean. And I'm glad you liked it. I forget stuff sometimes, but it's not like I never remember anything!"

Just not the important things, Jean-Paul thought, not letting himself say it aloud. Instead, he nodded. "Bon." Offering his hand to the younger man, he said, "I think I am going to be late for a meeting, if I do not go now, but... it was good to see you." Civility - it was interesting how some of it came back naturally and some of it didn't.

"Thanks for stopping by," Jake said, giving Jean-Paul's hand a quick shake before pulling back. After everything they'd had, a handshake was one of the more awkward parts of the whole conversation. But maybe that would change, he thought, standing himself. "Right. I should go too. I have...stuff. Too. But good to see you."

Nodding, Jean-Paul headed back to the spot where he'd landed and took off once more. It wasn't a meeting he was going to be late for so much as therapy. And it wouldn't do to be late for that.