Nathan and Jean Paul, Callie and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Nathan decides to take Jean-Paul grocery shopping in an attempt to kick-start his appetite. The topic of Jake comes up. Briefly.



"So," Nathan said idly, leaning on the cart as he pushed it - and keeping one very assessing eye on Jean-Paul. "What do you want? Salad? Cheese? Bread?" His friend hadn't had much appetite, but he did need to start eating something. Force-feeding would probably be inappropriate, but he was perfectly happy to experiment, cooking-wise.

Jean-Paul looked away. Apparently, his promises of "I will eat when I am hungry" had not been all that convincing. And trying to be difficult about where they shopped hadn't gotten him far either -- just a trip to the nearest Trader Joe's as something like a compromise between abandoning him at the nearest Winn Dixie and braving city traffic to get to Jean-Paul's preferred grocers.

The question only earned a shrug. "Nathan, I keep telling you, I do not have much of an appetite. None of it looks good. What is wrong with deciding to live on take-out for a while?"

"Do you want the short list or the long one?" Nathan asked, too brightly. "Oh, look. Dragonfruit. Fruit salad would be good, don't you think?"

"I have never had one with dragonfruit." Jean-Paul kept glancing uneasily around at the shoppers. This...wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. There wasn't anything here personal; the false memories were at a low ebb. But the idea that they were being noticed at all was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He picked up one of the shockingly pink fruits and considered it. "Could not hurt, I guess."

"That's the spirit. I've always liked the stuff. Kind of like a more mellow kiwi," Nathan said easily, adding some citrus fruit of various types to the cart (and some actual kiwis) as they passed by.

"So," Jean-Paul said conversationally as he people-watched, "the desire to scream and run out into traffic -- is this due to what happened in Moldova, or the result of watching a girl walk past with a swastika tattooed on one shoulder and a peace symbol on the other?"

Nathan gave a snorting laugh. "Cognitive dissonance comes in many shapes and forms, doesn't it?" He picked up a head of lettuce, slipping it into a bag and adding it to the cart. Tomatoes, next. "Maybe I should get a tattoo. What do you think?"

That had Jean-Paul's attention. "That...would depend. Where are you thinking of putting it?"

"Somewhere discreet. I don't know," Nathan said, examining the radishes. "Elpis in Greek, maybe. Or a little stylized firebird."

"Or 'fragile' just under your hairline," Jean-Paul suggested innocently, wandering over toward the dairy section.

"Oh, hah." Nathan trailed him over to the dairy section. "Cheese and crackers," he said briskly. "Flavorful, depending on the cheese, but a light snack at best. That way we defer to your appetite."

"Yes, yes." Jean-Paul offered a slight smile. "I am doing OK, Nathan. Truly."

"Well, this is a positive thing. But you still should be eating more." Nathan's returning smile was a little brittle, even if the look in his eyes was warm.

Jean-Paul's smile faltered. The words and something in the look had triggered a memory, but he was not going to dwell on it, not going to talk about it. It was not real. He picked up the first package of cheese his fingers came into contact with and dropped it into the cart without looking at it before walking away.

Nathan's face fell as he watched Jean-Paul walk blindly down the row of dairy cases. He wondered what he'd said - or what he'd triggered. He silently chose a few more pieces of cheese, following Jean-Paul but not pushing any more conversation just yet. Give him a few minutes. Let him-

Someone was watching them. Nathan stopped dead, staring hard at the man in the leather jacket, who immediately looked away, turning his gaze back to the vegetables. Nathan's eyes narrowed and he pushed into the man's mind telepathically without an instant's hesitation, finding...

Nothing. They'd caught his eye, that was all. You're getting paranoid, Nathan thought, pulling out of the man's mind and wincing as he rubbed at his eyes.

Jean-Paul was staring blankly at his own reflection in a case front when Nathan finally approached again.

"I should have known better than to say anything."

"About?" Nathan asked quietly. Jean-Paul had made the first move. It was all right to push a little now.

"~About being any better~," Jean-Paul spat in French. "~Fucking contrary piece of meat...it couldn't just let things be!~"

Nathan reached out and took Jean-Paul's arm. "Hey," he said, softly but firmly. "Look at me. Jean-Paul. There will be good days and bad days. We've talked about this."

"~What does it mean when I obviously cannot tell the difference?~" Jean-Paul rubbed at his eyes, trying to hold on to his anger. Here in public, it was the best option. There was no whimpering in public. "~Did any of you ever find why he stopped when he did? Why he did not finish the job?~"

"Establishing that's... not really been the priority," Nathan said slowly, then switched to French. "~Is it something you feel you need to know?~"

"~It's...Jean and the Professor seem to trust that whatever happened, it has not left me a danger to others.~" That was not really an answer, though. "~I do not need to know why, no. Only want to. But perhaps it is something I will know for myself when the blocks come out. The Professor did say that some memories might remain clouded.~"

"~I can understand why you would want to know. I'll ask Charles and Jean?~" Nathan shrugged uneasily. "~They might have noticed something while they were working and just not mentioned it to me. I was sort of... focused on other things.~"

"~Why do I have the feeling it involved babysitting me in some capacity?~" Jean-Paul appeared to have gotten control of himself. "~Sorry about that.~"

Nathan's smile was crooked and a little sad. "What did I say about apologizing?" he asked, switching back to English. He nudged Jean-Paul towards the end of the aisle. "So," he said, deliberately changing the subject, "while your appetite might be chancy, I've been craving chili. Made properly, with enough jalapenos to burn out your stomach lining." It wasn't quite deflection, and it wasn't quite babble.

Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow. "Was that your way of saying I should make the effort to veto, or simply forewarning that I should get milk while we are here?" Which reminded him, "So I broke up with Jake."

Nathan opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again - but no, an appropriate comment was still not coming. "Uh... I'm sorry to hear that," he said finally. "When... I mean, I haven't seen him over at the mansion..."

"Thursday night, while you were asleep." Jean-Paul shoved his hands into his pockets. "Trying to get him clear, I guess. But...I do not know. I was going to speak to him when we got back anyway, about where we stood."

Thursday night. While he'd been asleep. Obviously, sometime just before Jean-Paul had tried to put himself into orbit. "Mmm," Nathan said. It was a deceptively calm-sounding monosyllable.

"I know," Jean-Paul muttered. "I would apologize again, but I do not think I am allowed. But this was not so much a discussion. He showed up, I said we should not see each other while I was so mind-fucked, then I showed him the door."

"... I'm sorry," Nathan finally said, pulling a box of Rachel's favorite cereal off the shelf beside him. "Much as I occasionally want to kill the little rat bastard, I know he made you happy."

"Merci. But I do not think it would have lasted." Jean-Paul's voice was quiet. "I would not have been happy being someone else's not-boyfriend for much longer, and what I wanted would have scared Jake to death. Still...a pretty shitty way to break off a not-relationship, all things considered."

"I would think he understood." And if he didn't, he'd damned well better not make an issue of it. Nathan tried not to grimace. Be fair, Dayspring... "I so suck at this," he muttered. "Giving useful advice in situations like this, I mean. I've had a total of two relationships in my life and I married both women."

"It is a bit late for advice in this case anyway. Just airing regrets, I suppose." Jean-Paul glanced over at Nate. "So we are saying that my next step should be mail-order husbands?"

"That or you could let me matchmake for you," Nathan said, lightly. "Isn't that what married people are supposed to do for their friends?"

This train of conversation was utterly absurd, but Jean-Paul supposed that was the point. It was certainly better than dwelling. "I find myself morbidly curious," the speedster confessed. "Praytell, Nathan, who would you set me up with?"

Nathan tilted his head, pushing the cart around and into the next aisle. "Well. Elpis has this drop-dead gorgeous project manager in Paraguay... but then there's the long-distance issue..."

"Depending on just how gorgeous we are talking about, he might be worth putting a few frequent flier miles on Air Beaubier..." Jean-Paul forced himself to give his whole attention to the very important matter of his dating prospects as they headed up the snack aisle and toward the canned goods.

Later, Callie runs into Jean-Paul while he raids the kitchen and they have a short, awkward reunion.



Despite the excursion to the grocery store, Jean-Paul found that his larder wasn't as well-stocked as he'd thought it was -- he was out of cinnamon, which seemed impossible somehow. Surely he hadn't used enough of it before he'd left to actually run out and he doubted that the rats had developed a taste for it while he was gone. But there it was. And so here he was, raiding the spice rack in the mansion's kitchen.

Callie was more than a little surprised to see Jean-Paul out and about. She had come by for a popsicle, so she headed for the freezer to fish one out. She knew, of course, that he had been in the medlab, but didn't know when he was being released. Physically he appeared to be more or less the same, no extra appendenges or blue skin, but there was a general feeling of off about him. "What are you looking for?"

Jean-Paul held up the cinnamon shaker in one hand. "Found it." He blinked a couple of times at the sight of Callie, paling a little, then seemed to shake it off. "Good to see you again, Callie. How are you?"

"Um, I'm okay." She really didn't know what to say to him. She hadn't seen him in weeks? And to top it all off, she wasn't very good when it came to people she cared about being seriously sick or injured. Which she figured she should probably get over this if she wanted to be a doctor. "How are you? Um... yeah."

"Doing better." Jean-Paul folded his arms over his chest. "I am back in my room, at least. Nathan is living with me for the time being. Making sure I do not crash and burn before I heal."

"That's good." Callie nodded. "So cinnamon? Are you baking anything?" This wasn't at all awkward.

"Nate took me shopping for groceries. I picked up some steel-cut oats." He shrugged. "I wanted oatmeal, I guess. Wrong weather, but I decided to indulge."

She shrugged. "I'm not one to talk. I had hot chocolate in July in Venice. So.... Do you want any soup with like a million cloves of garlic in it?"

Jean-Paul laughed. "I am not sure it would work with cinnamon, but...certainly, if it is available. It may fortify me against Nathan's chili."

After a moment of pondering, Callie spoke once more. "Well cinnamon is noted for its medicinal properties, but maybe not in my soup." No. The soup recipe had been perfected, and there was no reason to mess with perfection. She slowly moved closer and hugged him gently, hoping that she was neither overstepping boundaries nor hurting him.

"I'm glad you're back," she whispered.

Jean-Paul had received, to his experience, a surprising number of hugs since he'd woken up. He could remember a time when they would have discomfited him to the point of insult. Now, he was grateful for the reassurance, the firm warmth of reality against waking nightmares. He hugged Callie in return.

"I am glad I made it back. I like your soup."

She smiled as she clung tightly to the Canadian for a second more before letting him out of her clutches. "Thanks. And you probably have a whole slew of people looking out for you, but if you need anything, you know where to find me."