A/N: This one is short for my taste, but we still manage to cover a LOT.

TW: Lots of biphobia. Both internalized and outright.

Chapter 38- Pursuit

BEEP...

Hi Tinkerbell. I hope you're feeling better. I'm assuming you couldn't pick up the phone because you're too sick to call back. You mentioned yesterday that you had caught a nasty cold from those snotty kids at the rink - I could never, I have no idea how you handle so many small children, kudos to you. But that's fine, I can talk enough for the both of us. Besides, it's a win-win situation. We both get to hear me talk, isn't it wonderful? It might even cure your cold. The sound of my voice is magical, it makes me feel great.

The design you sent me? Perfect. If you weren't so dead-set on ice dancing, you could absolutely be a fashion designer. There are some people in the business who have horrible taste, yet they're allowed to be called designers? Can you believe it? It's disgusting. Someone tried to combine animal print and neon.

Yes, you heard that right - neon. Alexander McQueen did not die for this... well, he died because he was depressed, but anyway... this is a catastrophe. Animal print is so overdone nowadays, and neon? When has neon honestly looked good? I think people who think neon is good are lying to themselves. Lime green? Bleck! These new so-called 'fashionistas' think that they're doing something, but to be honest, I'm awfully embarrassed and almost feel a little sorry for them.

Key word being almost, though - I always remember that they're competition. Jen seems to have trouble realizing that. She's always nice to everyone but me! Lately she and her girlfriend had been arguing, normal couple things, but it's still annoying. I love Jen, but the next time I have to hear her complain about 'girl troubles' I am going to scream into a pillow. She can be a little antsy, sometimes I think she was born forty. Sanders was definitely born forty.

Oh yeah, I had been hanging out with the cadets lately - I know it's so surprising, and you probably feel betrayed, but I promise you; they aren't that terrible... yes, even MacArthur. But her fashion sense? Yuck. Don't tell her I said that though - I said that to her face a couple of weeks ago and she chased me with a bat. Not a fun time.

I guess this would be a great time to mention that I had met someone - a dreamy guy, too. In Toronto, there are so many gay bars - you should to go to one if you haven't. I'm sure there are many in Montreal. Oh, and don't worry - you're bisexual, it still counts. Jen and I were talking about this the other day - there are hardly any bars for women that love other women. It's sad, don't you think? That's why I get super annoyed when other gay guys side-eye women that are in those bars.

Anyway, he was absolutely gorgeous - we had been talking every now and then, and the best part about him was that he wasn't blonde. Blondes do have more fun... breaking hearts. Oh, no offense. Sorry about that. We'll definitely talk about that, by the way, whether you'd like to or not, because I certainly have questions - but now I'm running out of time. You can call me back when you feel up to responding.

Feel better, though I think that hearing me talk has significantly helped!

Bye.

Josée tried to scoff amusedly from her bed due to Tom's voicemail, especially his usage of his nickname for her, which turned into coughing for a few seconds. She scowled instead and sat back in her bed, rubbing her hand on her forehead that only seemed to be getting warmer. At that moment, Jacques appeared in the threshold looking at his partner in concern. He had returned from teaching figure skating class. "Allo, chouchou. How are you feeling? Everyone missed you today."

Josée gave a half smile at his attempts to make her feel better. "Tired." Then, she started to cough more.

Jacques frowned. "I think you have a fever."

Josée stopped coughing, rolled her eyes, and turned to her side. "Barely. I'm just tired."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? Michelle can wait."

"Positive. I can take care of myself," Josée said adamantly, though the thought of Jacques spending more time with his girlfriend made her cough more. Jacques gently gestured Josée to lift her body up, which she did, and she watched curiously as Jacques fixed her pillow. Josée leaned back, sinking into it comfortably. "I'm okay. Go be with Michelle."

Jacques still appeared hesitant, but gave in. "Okay. Just... call me if you need anything."

"Of course." Jacques left shortly after. Once out of earshot - when Josée heard the front door closing - did she heave out a loud sigh, which resulted in more coughing. Her eyes began to droop, unable to stay awake. She figured she would call back Tom later.

The honeymoon period was over.

Or, at least, that's what Jacques was thinking. Coincidentally - or perhaps not - this started ever since he and Josée got back from Devin and Carrie's wedding. The image of Josée letting her hair roam freely as she moved gracefully in her gold dress wouldn't get away from him. Though he could argue it started even a little before that, when he and Josée were demonstrating a dance to Devin and Carrie weeks before, and how Josée's face had turned noticeably red. It was cute, but he tried not to read into things.

...though he failed almost each and every time. Why was he thinking about Josée now when Michelle was great for him? He figured it was the honeymoon period of a relationship being over, which he had felt many times in other relationships, but he couldn't help but think this honeymoon period ending sooner had to do with Josée. Just when Jacques thought he was secure, he just had to see Josée in a gold dress and her hair down.

Not that that meant anything anymore, he tried to insist to he was over the whole ordeal. They had kissed. Josée told him to forget about it, and that was that.

"The movie was great," Michelle marveled happily, walking out of the theatre, linking arms with her boyfriend. "What did you think?" It was a chick-flick that Jacques did not remember the name of, but something Michelle insisted on seeing. Not that Jacques entirely objected, but she hardly even asked him if he wanted to see anything else.

"Oui, it was," Jacques agreed, nonetheless.

"Is there anything in particular you enjoyed from it?" Michelle asked.

"Mm, all of it," Jacques answered. To be honest, his thoughts had lied elsewhere - with concern over his partner. Josée had insisted that she was fine, and that she could take care of herself when she was sick, and he did believe her - but that didn't mean he didn't want to help. Michelle gave him a questioning look. Jacques shrugged. "I don't know."

"Something's wrong," Michelle acknowledged closely.

Jacques lifted an eyebrow. "Um, non?"

Michelle sighed deeply. "Don't lie. I can tell when something is weighing heavily on your mind." Jacques was beginning to think that he wasn't as good as hiding his emotions as he originally thought; because the amount of times his lovers - as well as some friends - had caught him worrying, or having any negative emotion whatsoever, they were able to point it out, and it would be quickly too.

Nonetheless, Jacques tried to play it off. "It's not a big deal," he tried to insist. "It's... nothing you would understand."

Michelle frowned. "You've been saying that a lot lately, and each time you do talk about whatever's bothering you, I do end up understanding it."

Jacques pressed his lips together as if to keep his temper inside. Yes, she technically wasn't wrong about that, but he really wished she wouldn't persist on it. Because there's no way Michelle would understand something like this; how ever since the wedding he had felt a little distant from her and closer to someone else - and this person in particular wanted nothing to do with him romantically and had known him for years, how was that going to make Michelle feel?

"Josée is sick, that's all," Jacques eventually said. He looked away from Michelle, who had an unreadable expression once he admitted that, to look through his phone to see if he had gotten new messages from his ice dancing partner. "I told her to message me if she needed anything. Maybe she's sleeping, or maybe she needs help or is in danger or-"

"She's probably sleeping," Michelle cut in suddenly, almost firmly. Jacques merely stared at her. Michelle stared at him like a deer in the headlights, then smiled widely. "I mean, think about it. When you're sick, all you want to do is sleep. You don't want to disturb her sleep, do you?"

"Ah, but you know how Josée is from high school... she'll try to work through things even when she's sick," Jacques told her, then looked through his phone. "I knew I should've stayed with her," he mumbled. Nonetheless, he sent a message - not directly to Josée, but to someone else.

"I think you're worrying about her too much," Michelle said assertively, with a frown that had looked more formed due to disapproval, rather than concern. Jacques looked at her, only mildly shocked that she looked so upset. Michelle didn't appear to be phased, and continued: "She's a big girl, Jacques. Don't baby her, she'll be fine."

She had a point, Jacques thought. Josée was twenty-one years old and was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and Jacques knew he had the tendency to try and take care of her. He couldn't exactly shake that off; it had been ingrained in him since they were small children. "I know that. But she's still my friend, I should call her-"

"No."

Jacques raised his eyebrows. "No?" he repeated, highly annoyed. Oh, he just knew that she wouldn't understand...

"You guys work together and you guys live together," Michelle stated, matter-of-factly. "Can you go one second without thinking of her? God, I was only joking but it's like you two did hook up at the wedding, because-"

"What?" Jacques nearly exclaimed. "Michelle, I only want to be with you-"

Michelle felt her fists clench at her sides. "But ever since the wedding you had been different, almost distant!"

Jacques didn't like this. He didn't like how clever she was. "What are you trying to say?"

Josée's eyes flickered open. She didn't know how long she had fallen asleep for. Then, she glanced at the clock that it had at least been a few hours. She groaned a little, sitting upright to get more comfortable. Her bones still ached and she still felt very, very warm - she knew by now that she had at least a small fever and that it wasn't just a standard cold. She placed her hand on her forehead which was burning hot, and she felt as though the room was spinning and that there was a ringing in her ears.

Despite all of this being a sign of a fever and that she should go back to bed - like Jacques would advise her to - Josée instead found herself trying to get back on her feet. She had to grip onto the headboard of her bed in order to steady herself. It was a similar feeling to how she would get after not eating, though that could also be the cause of this. She hadn't eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours. She knew it wasn't because of her issues with eating in the past, because right now she wouldn't mind eating something.

Josée closed her eyes, hoping that the room would stop moving. She blinked rapidly and found that it thankfully had. The next step was to grab a granola bar from the kitchen and then make her way to the rink for extra practice. She absolutely knew Jacques wouldn't approve, but she couldn't stay cooped up in the apartment for too long. Maybe by eating a little something and skating a little bit she would feel better, she figured. She made her way to the kitchen and stared at the counter.

"Josée?" Though Josée hadn't realized that she was so out of it that she had stared at the counter for four minutes. She slowly turned around to come face-to-face with Jacques' mother, who watched her with motherly concern and a perpetual frown on her face. Josée hadn't noticed Jacques' mother's entrance.

Fleur smiled sheepishly and held up a key. "Jacques gave me a spare key just in case." She put the key back in her purse. "He told me you weren't feeling well."

Josée resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes, because of course Jacques would send his mother to check up on her. She shook her head roughly - which gave her a bit of a headache - and crossed her arms. "I'm fine. I'm heading out to the rink to practice-"

"Absolutely not!" Fleur said sternly, then gently grabbed Josée's arm and guided her to her room. "You're very pale, sweetheart. You are in no condition to go out and skate!"

Josée tried to protest, however did not try to push Fleur away. "But, hey! I'm fine-" Soon enough, she ended up back in her bed.

Fleur clicked her tongue and proceeded to tuck the ice dancer in. "You are not."

"I'm not a child," Josée huffed, as she snuggled under the covers. "I can take care of myself!" Fleur raised a skeptical eyebrow and held up a thermometer she had retrieved from her purse. Josée opened her mouth and let Fleur place the thermometer inside. Soon, she retrieved it back and shook her head.

"You tried to go outside with a fever of..." she paused to re-read it. "...38.5."

Josée leaned into her pillow, her eyes dropping slightly. "Olympians can't always rest or take breaks!"

"Actually, olympians do know when to rest and take a break, which you certainly need to do," Fleur said assertively. Josée blinked and watched curiously as Fleur left her bedroom for a minute, and then returned with a cloth, which she placed on Josée's head. The ice dancer closed her eyes when the coolness spread across her forehead.

"You're too soft," Josée mumbled tiredly. "No wonder Jacques is such a big baby."

"Mhm," Fleur hummed absentmindedly, trying not to smile. She squeezed Josée's hand comfortingly. "I'm going to make some soup now. In the meantime, you get some sleep."

"...Okay." Josée watched as Fleur left. The moment the older woman's back was turned, Josée let out a tiny smile; she missed Jacques' mother's soup. A few minutes later, she received a text message:

Tinkerbell, are you alive?

Josée rolled her eyes dramatically, but replied:

Barely, Twiggy.

And that's when Josée's phone started to ring. She huffed and let it ring for a few seconds before answering: "What is it, Tom?"

"She speaks! Oh, I thought you'd be a goner. How are you feeling?"

"...Fine," Josée answered neutrally. "Jacques got his mother to help take care of me. I cannot stand him at the moment."

"Aw, that's sweet. The last guy I was totally in love with... his mother despised me. I think it had something to do with me pointing out that she couldn't color coordinate, and that she really needs to tell the difference between an authentic and a knock off, because honestly, it was so embarrassing when she paid only a hundred and twenty dollars for a sequined Ralph Lauren polo shirt... knew it was a knock-off right away. I don't get why she was mad at me, I was only trying to help!"

"I've always had trouble with telling it apart," Josée admitted.

"Shame, shame, Tinkerbell. When you're back in Toronto, we'll go shopping. I'll send you images of spotting the difference."

"Merci," Josée thanked gratefully. Then, she traced back on Tom's words and nearly gasped, forming a scowl. "I'm not in love with Jacques!"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say in love... maybe we'll settle with really, really like." Josée opened her mouth, but found no rebuttal to that. She could practically hear Tom smirking from the other line. "Am I right, or am I right? I do feel for you, though. Falling for a blonde man that you've known for years... yikes."

"...It's a terrible predicament," Josée agreed, with a heavy sigh. "Like I've said at the wedding; fourteen, almost fifteen years... could you imagine? He's my best friend. Imagine being in love with your best friend. Obviously you can't really relate to that."

Tom chuckled. "You have a point, but I know someone who can!"

That caught Josée's attention. "What?"

"Carrie. It sounds like you're in the Carrie Zone."

"I... what-"

"It's like the Friend Zone, but you're in love with your best friend of fourteen years. Jen and I just coined it recently and we're glad it's starting to pick up."

"I know what the Carrie Zone is." Josée rolled her eyes. "I hate this zone."

"It is terrible. Jokes aside, I'm sorry." The ice dancer's head began to ache and groaned in response. "Hey, you will get through it. I mean, I personally think that he's trying to replace you, like Jen said at the wedding-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Josée remarked coolly. "And stop giving me false hope."

She could hear Tom rolling his eyes over the phone. "Is it false hope? Is it really? I want you to think about that for a second."

"...What?"

"Jacques is an idiot, no offense. It will hit him sooner or later that you're the one for him."

Josée was skeptical. "How do you know?"

"Because it was always you. I'm sorry, but did we watch the same show?"

"I still don't see what your point is. Besides, there isn't just one reason I feel bad about liking him than what I told you."

"Why would you feel bad about liking him? I mean sure, he's blonde, kind of dense sometimes, and has questionable taste in clothes, but that's what you like. There's no shame in that, you know... even if I don't find it attractive, but you do!"

Josée took a breath. "It sounds stupid, but I feel guilty. Because... at times I think about when you and Jen told me that I had a crush on Rachel. And ever since I accepted I was also bisexual by that definition, I just... I feel like I should be dating women, but I've fallen for Jacques. It makes me wonder if I'm actually bisexual, because what if I'm faking it? I should want to be with a woman right now, but I want to be with Jacques."

"Josée," Tom began, "What's the definition of bisexual?"

"...Being attracted to men and women," Josée answered.

"Right. Now what did you say about Rachel? As in, how you felt about her?"

"Later on, how I felt about her, was the same way I felt around her when I was with Claude, my boyfriend."

"And how did you feel about Claude?"

"I was attracted to him," Josée told him. "It took a long time, but I was attracted to him. Well, I was always sort of attracted to him... sexually. But the romantic attraction... that was what took a long time. Kitty told me those are two separate things, which blew my mind." Then, she thought about it: "I felt the same way about Rachel, looking back..."

"Then that's bisexuality," Tom told her. "What it sounds like is that you have a preference for men, which is totally fine and you shouldn't let anyone else treat you badly because of it... you're still just as much apart of the community as Jen, Jacques, and I."

"But I'm not attracted to a woman right now," Josée tried to argue. "I'm attracted to Jacques. I haven't dated a woman, kissed a woman, or had sex with a woman."

"But would you consider it? Have you considered it with Rachel?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you're bisexual, end of story. Your dating history doesn't determine your sexuality. There are so many gay guys that dated girls before coming out as gay, and there are a lot of lesbians that dated men before realizing they were lesbians. How many guys was Jacques with before he realized he also liked women?"

"I..." Josée started, before closing her mouth. Tom had a point. "I never thought of it that way. But that doesn't get rid of this feeling of wishing I wasn't attracted to Jacques."

"...I'm sorry."

Josée let out a sigh. "Don't apologize." She felt her head pound harder against her skull and groaned. "Anyway, I'm starting to get a little tired... I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Bye, Tinkerbell."

"Bye, Twiggy." Then she hung up. Josée sighed and let her head rest against the pillow. She felt her eyes droop again, and yawned loudly. Her last thoughts before she fell fast asleep had to do with Jacques, about how he probably wasn't even thinking of her, because after all, he had moved on.

"Oh you aren't serious!" Jacques exclaimed frustratedly, after Michelle had gone into a long-winded theory. "Tell me you aren't serious!"

"I'm just saying," Michelle persisted, narrowing her eyes at him. "You spend a lot of your time with her, what else am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust me," Jacques answered, as if it were obvious. "I can't believe you would even think-"

"Can you blame me?"

"That sounds like an issue you have," Jacques pointed out. "Do I ever get paranoid when you're talking with guys from the ballet company?"

"It's different and you know it," Michelle argued back. "I don't live with any of those guys, nor do I have a fifteen year history with them, and I'm not like you!"

"You can't just - wait, what?" Jacques stopped his train of thought once he processed the rest of his girlfriend's sentence. "What do you mean that you're not like me?"

Michelle crossed her arms. "Look, I know that bisexuals have more options so they're more likely to cheat on their significant others, but if you're going to do that, just don't do it with her. I'd rather you cheat on me with a man than with her."

Jacques was flabbergasted. "Me, cheat on you?" He was rendered speechless a few seconds after that, before composing himself. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"But it does," Michelle argued, rolling her eyes. "Like I said, if you're going to cheat on me, then do it with a man-"

"I'm not going to cheat on you!" Jacques snapped. He opened his mouth to argue even further, before a realization struck him.

Was this what it was like? Had every time he had repeated the words of his past lovers felt like this? Every time he stated that liking men and women wasn't possible, and that people were stuck in the closet and hid behind the word 'bisexual'? Was this how it felt when he would roll his eyes at men who claimed to be bisexual at gay bars in Montreal, and that he thought it was just another word for being promiscuous and wanting to sleep around? Had he known this was how they felt, he would've been a lot nicer.

"I..." He paused, shaking his head. "I need to get out of here." He tried to push past her, but Michelle stood in his way, gawking at him.

"So you're just going to walk away from me? You can't just run off when I'm trying to talk to you!"

"...You think because I like men and women that I'm more likely to cheat on you?" Not too long ago, Jacques had thought this. He had thought this way and it made him sick to his stomach; and to think that the first person he came out to was reacting this way made it even worse. "I'll call you later. I have to go."

That being said, he brushed past her and stormed off. God, he couldn't believe her.

And what made things worse was that he couldn't believe himself.

...He didn't know how he got here. One second he and Michelle were arguing with her pointing out her own prejudice - which he had seen in his earlier self - to him ending up at a local store with a brand new pack of cigarettes. After that, he ended up leaning against the building where he and Josée would skate. He wanted to let out a muffled scream into his coat - a habit he had picked up from Josée - at the absurdity of it all. God, he could just.. he could just punch something. Hell, he really wanted to.

Instead, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, and with the flick of a lighter-

"Seriously? I thought you would've quit by now."

Jacques paused, the flame not quite on the cigarette but close, and turned off the flame once he registered the other's voice. Rolling his eyes, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and addressed the person: "I'm not a child anymore, you can't tell me what to do."

Isaac raised an eyebrow at his defiance, then shrugged. "You're right. But I can encourage you to make better choices regarding your health. Believe it or not, I want to see you live past the age of thirty - Jacques, I would appreciate if you didn't scowl at me." Jacques scowled again, and he made sure that Isaac saw it. Isaac let out a deep sigh. "Instead of defying me purposely because you're angry and don't know how to healthily express your emotions - oh, don't give me that look - you can say what's wrong."

Jacques shook his head. "I'm aware of something from the past and I wish I wasn't."

"Aware of what?"

"Of how... of how horrible I was to others," Jacques explained.

"Is this about the race?"

"Yes. Well, no. Not really. Kind of, but..." Everything was sort of connected to the race in a way, and Jacques despised it. "...are you okay with me being bisexual?"

Isaac blinked rapidly at the seemingly sudden question. "...Of course I am. Be who you want to be-"

"What do you mean by that?" Jacques said sharply. "Want to be, as in, me having a choice in the matter? Thinking it's a choice?"

"Where is this coming from?" Isaac asked. "You should never be ashamed of finding your true self, Jacques. Is it the press that's saying otherwise? They're confused over things like this, but they'll get over it."

"Did you know?" Jacques questioned, almost harshly. "And do you actually believe it? Or..."

"Know what? That you were also attracted to women?" Jacques nodded. Isaac pondered over it for a second. "...I had a feeling. With the way you were around Josée and all. And yes, I do believe in it-"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Jacques snapped. "I've said so many horrible things... and you didn't stop me! Why couldn't you tell me then?"

Isaac wasn't phased, and held up one finger. "One, this isn't normally something you discuss with your students," he started off evenly, "Two," he held up another finger. "Your identity is something only you can figure out on your own. Three, which is a question, where is this coming from?"

Jacques' anger faded only slightly. "My girlfriend thinks I'm going to cheat on her because I'm bisexual... and it just-" He paused, unable to put it into words. He let it linger there, hesitant to just light the damn cigarette and let it drown his thoughts away.

"You noticed your own prejudice when it was directed at you for the first time," Isaac finished for him. In response, Jacques nodded slowly. Isaac hummed a little bit, acknowledging that, and then continued: "I'm sorry."

Jacques shrugged. "It's terrible."

"I would say that something like this would serve as a life lesson," began Isaac, "But no one deserves to be discriminated against when it comes to their sexuality; I understand that all too well."

"How did you deal with it?" Jacques asked. "...Especially then?"

"Surround yourself with others that accept you for who you are," Isaac answered. "Which is a lot easier now than it was back then. I wouldn't wish that what I went through on my worst enemy. I'm not saying it's easy, of course it isn't, because there are people that still are intolerant... but I'm sure you can find some people."

Jacques considered this. There were some people that came to mind, such as Tom and Jen, and perhaps others from that race - but still, they were many miles away and it's already hard enough to keep in contact with them over the phone, especially when they have their own lives going on.

Ding.

Jacques' phone got a new notification. He checked it to see that it was Michelle. Scanning over the message, he raised his eyebrows in alarm.

"Is something wrong?" Isaac asked.

"It's her," Jacques supplied, putting his phone away. "She's apologizing." He read the message over again just to be sure. "Oui. Do I forgive her?"

Isaac shrugged. "That's up to you."

Jacques knew what the right answer was. He knew what he would've done if someone had made a homophobic remark to him back when he identified as gay, and that would also apply here - which was to stop associating with said someone. In this case, Jacques knew that it meant that he had to break up with Michelle. And something was holding him back; he simply couldn't do it - part of him felt as if he was trying to prove something with this relationship, and he knew exactly what that was.

Not that he would admit it aloud.

"I can't believe I thought like that," Jacques said shamefully.

"That's because you're young and stupid."

Jacques' jaw dropped. "What?!"

"Don't take it personally," Isaac said quickly. "I was young and stupid. I had the same view about bisexuals when I was in my late teens and early twenties."

"What changed?"

Isaac leaned against the building. "I grew up."

"Oh..."

"Not to be rude," Isaac began, "But even though you and Josée had been around the world, traveling for competitions, you were still in your little bubble. I made the unfortunate mistake of not having you communicate with others at competitions, telling you to stay in your own lanes, so you wouldn't get much life experience. So... I'd imagine when you got to the race, you'd interact with the other contestants and..." Issac paused to wince. "I should've known that wasn't going to go well."

Jacques scowled. "You make it seem as though we are incapable of being social."

"Oui, you absolutely are sometimes."

"Isaac-"

"But it was a learning experience," Isaac insisted, getting to his main point. "You're learning a lot more now, you're growing up. You're supposed to do that in your early twenties; I'd be concerned if you weren't. So don't work yourself up over your past prejudices, the only thing you can do is learn and move forward from it."

Moving forward...

Jacques sighed and leaned back. He wouldn't smoke the cigarette.

At least not now.

"Sweetheart, wake up."

...Hm?

"Josée, your soup is ready."

Josée's eyes flickered open to come face-to-face with Fleur, who had a bowl of soup ready in her hands. Josée sat up straighter, rubbing one of her eyes and still feeling groggy. She let out a yawn. "How long was I asleep for?"

Fleur looked over at the clock. "About forty-five minutes, maybe less."

"I feel like I slept for hours," Josée replied. "And I still feel tired."

"Maybe because you overwork yourself to exhaustion," Fleur put bluntly. She handed her the soup, but Josée shook her head. Fleur, however, wasn't having it. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Josée said adamantly.

Fleur pressed her lips in a thin line. "I get very concerned when you start saying that, dear."

Josée glared at the older woman. "I haven't done anything like that in so long, what makes you think I'll start now?"

"I was a nurse. I know that people with eating disorders can relapse-"

"Can you not call it that?" Josée snapped irritably.

Fleur sighed. "What would you like to call it then?"

Josée thought about it for only a second. "A... habit."

"A dangerous one at that," Fleur warned. Josée's eyes widened a little, causing Fleur to sigh again. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm just very concerned about you, that's all. Even before you got sick you seemed very stressed out. Is everything okay?"

The last possible thing Josée would want is to discuss her romantic life and her crush on Jacques to his mother. It would be absolutely humiliating, and she's almost positive that Fleur wouldn't want to hear any of it. Instead, she went for a more broad question: "How do you know when you're in love with someone?"

Fleur's eyes widened briefly, probably by the sudden question that caught her off-guard. Then she cleared her throat, put the bowl of soup down on her nightstand, and proceeded to explain: "...You spend a lot of time thinking about them, more than usual. It's like you can't get them out of your head. Sometimes, you'll lay awake at night thinking about them. When you meet that special person, they're irreplaceable in your eyes. If they could just make you smile and laugh when you were just crying your eyes out earlier. If you keep replaying memories of them in your head, the moments you've shared together and you feel invincible."

Josée felt her stomach sink; she knew what she was feeling toward Jacques, and this confirmed it. "Oh, that's nice."

Fleur let out a small smile. "Jacques' father would write on a post-it note everyday for me, no matter what. It's the little things that especially matter. I couldn't tell you a darn thing about Jacques' father's medical lectures with anesthesiology, but I always listen. The sacrifices we make are important too."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... when you're fighting with that someone, would you sacrifice your pride for happiness?" Josée wasn't too sure; she knew that she was stubborn and had trouble admitting she was wrong. But eventually, when it came to Jacques, of course she would if it meant they would get along again. "Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?"

"Can't it be both?"

Fleur laughed. "I'd expect that answer from someone like you. But so..." She nudged her gently, "...who's the lucky someone?" Josée's eyes flickered to her hands, unable to look at Jacques' mother in the eyes. Josée felt tears well up in hers; she didn't think that she would get so worked up over this. It was humiliating. She had to show some bravery over this, or else it would look suspicious. Hesitantly, Josée looked up to meet Fleur's eyes, and then she wished she hadn't looked. It was too late, as Fleur's was radiating concern and the smile disappeared from her face. "Oh honey..." she started sympathetically.

That did it. Josée began to cry. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I know. You can't help who you fall in love with. Josée, it's okay..."

"I didn't want to upset you, or you to think of me differently!"

"I'm not upset at all!" Fleur nearly exclaimed. "And I don't think of you any differently. Why would you think that?"

Josée shrugged. "I dunno..." She looked around her bed for bun-bun, and rubbed her thumbs along it. "It would feel strange, wouldn't it? Considering Jacques identified as gay in the past and now he doesn't... and seeing me like him, it... I don't know what you expect."

"When did you realize your feelings for him?" Fleur prodded gently.

"After we kissed," Josée said honestly, through her tears. "It was at the reunion. Well, I knew I liked the kiss... and that it was different from the first kiss I had - I felt something, but I was in denial. He had confessed his feelings for me, and I didn't know what I wanted! I didn't know... so I pushed him away at the time. When I really realized it, when I actually acknowledged it... it was a month into Jacques and Michelle's relationship... god, it's so embarrassing. I've never let myself hung up on this, and I could only imagine what maman would think about it... she would be so ashamed."

Fleur put her hand over Josée's in comfort. "But dear, what about what you want?"

Josée sniffled. "That doesn't matter. He's with someone else."

"Mmm, between you and me..." Fleur started, then whispered: "I really don't think they'll last much longer."

"Fleur!"

"Oh don't act so surprised. She's alright, but... they don't seem that compatible. Truth to be told, I've been waiting for you to admit your feelings for my son-"

"What?"

"Come on, now... over the years, it's quite obvious now that I think about it. Perhaps you had feelings for him even before that and you acknowledged it now?"

"...Possibly," Josée admitted sheepishly. But it's not like she would've done anything about it then! Even during those times Jacques was single. Before the race, Jacques identified as gay. Even if he wasn't gay - that was how he identified before, and Josée wouldn't want to cross boundaries. She knew it was wrong to tell a gay man to date a woman. It's unlikely she would do anything now, because all that mattered was Jacques' feelings.

And he was happy.

...Allegedly.

"I'm getting really tired," Josée said, after a while. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. "Can I sleep now?"

"Try having a few spoonfuls of soup first." Josée felt she owed her that at least. She did so, taking a good amount. Unsurprisingly, it was delicious. "I'll check on you later." Giving Josée's hand one last comforting squeeze, Fleur exited the room and shut the door behind her. Josée leaned back in bed; though she had some of the soup - she still felt ridiculously tired, and everything seemed a little fuzzy. For what seemed like the twentieth time, Josée rested her eyes.

"I'm sorry again," Michelle pleaded, while holding Jacques' hand as they walked toward Jacques' apartment building. "I can't say it enough."

Jacques offered a small smile. "You haven't stopped saying it all the way here." He didn't want to admit it, but it was cute the way she was overly apologetic.

Michelle sighed. "Because I honestly feel guilty." They stopped in front of the building. "I know how hard it's been for you lately, with coming out for a second time... so I shouldn't have invalidated that. And... and your friendship with Josée is important." Jacques noticed that his girlfriend's apologetic smile had vanished upon saying that.

"Oui. It is."

"I'm glad we were able to make it up by the end of the day," Michelle remarked, then eyed him skeptically. "We did make up, right?"

In a way, they did. But Jacques did it for an entirely different reason. He leaned in to kiss her; tilting her chin up to his. Michelle returned it gratefully, letting go to smile at him.

"Does that answer your question?" Jacques replied smoothly.

Michelle rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes. So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Mais oui," was Jacques' answer.

With one final kiss goodbye, Michelle released Jacques' hand and departed. Jacques watched her go, frowning deeply. He knew he shouldn't have forgiven her so easily. The honeymoon period was most definitely over. It was faster than usual in a sense where Josée somehow was a factor in it - as in, whomever Jacques was with at the time would take note of their friendship. It was no different when he was with Nathaniel, and a variety of other lovers. Realizing that Michelle wasn't an exception to this rule was difficult.

Jacques entered his apartment to see his maman on the sofa reading. "How is Josée?" he asked at an instant. After being out all day, he finally had an excuse to think about her.

"She had some more soup," Fleur remarked, putting her book down. "Despite that, she keeps dipping in and out of consciousness because her fever had gone up a bit."

"Maman, you're a nurse," Jacques huffed, crossing his arms. "You're supposed to make her feel better."

Fleur scowled at her son. "You expected her to be right as rain after a few hours?"

"Oui."

"Oh yes, because that's exactly how that works."

Jacques rolled his eyes. "I'm going to check on her." He was about to, before Fleur called him back. "Maman..." he whined.

"Don't be surprised if she's too tired to answer you, that's all," Fleur advised. "She had been sleeping constantly."

"Okay, okay..." Jacques responded, not really listening and bursting through Josée's room, and by her side. Jacques smiled at Josée's sleeping figure, tightly hugging it while her beloved rabbit's foot was right next to her. She always lightly snored in a way that would make most people annoyed, but he didn't mind - it was cute, actually.

He was about to leave to let her sleep, at the threshold of the door, before a little groan from inside made him stop in his tracks. "...Jacjac?"

Jacques' stomach flipped at her special nickname for him. He turned back around to see Josée only half-awake, her head tilted and her eyes slightly open. He smiled at her endearingly. It wasn't unlike Josée to talk in her sleep. "Allo, chouchou. How are you feeling?"

Josée was frowning, and closed her eyes. "Mmm... you're in my dreams a lot, Jacjac."

Jacques blinked in confusion. "Quoi?"

"Oui, like..." Josée stretched a little, and turned over to her side so she wasn't facing him. "...your smile. And the kiss."

Jacques' eyes went wide. "Quoi?" he emphasized. What did she mean by that?

"Oh, you know..." Josée murmured. Her eyes were still closed, but breathed deeply. "I said to forget it, but... but how could you forget something like that?" She smiled to herself and snuggled into her pillow more. "It was wonderful. I wish I didn't stop it."

Jacques' heart stopped.

Did she mean that?

Did she really mean that?

...What?!

"I..." Jacques left it at that. What else was he supposed to say? He waited for Josée to say something else, still wide-eyed at what his ice dancing partner said prior, but found that she had fallen right back asleep. He went back into the living room, without saying a single word, and joined his maman on the sofa. It then occurred to Jacques that his maman was right; she was somewhat delirious due to the fever - that's the only reason that she would say such things that had no meaning to them whatsoever.

Right?