(Notes and disclaimer in part 1)

==========================


"What the fuck is going on?"
Jason looked up from the "Daredevil" comic he was reading. "What's
going on?"
"That's what I asked you, fucker." Jay slammed his hand on the
counter. "A week ago me an' Silent Bob come in here, it's a new
store and everything, a comic store. Bob and me like comics, so we
come and check it out, and you've got shit that the store at the
mall never had. I mean, tentacle sex stuff! And these weird fuckin'
comics about the guy who kills people and the stick figure that
yells shit, so we come in and we check it out, right?"
"Yeah." Jason pulled his baseball cap down further over his eyes.
"So ever since then, I been noticin' some weird shit."
"What kind of weird shit?"
Jay leaned forward onto the counter. "Really weird shit. Like Brodie
Bruce and Banky Edwards...and that one demon guy...you don't know them,
but they're all people I know. And before last week I never realized
it, but they're all the same fuckin' people!" He poked Jason in the
chest. "And Shannon Hamilton and Holden McNeil and that angel, the
crazy one, they're all the same too. What the fuck did you do to
me?"
Jason shook his head. "I didn't do shit, all right? Listen, if
you're imagining crap, you have no one to blame but yourself."
"Oh no, fucker, I ain't standin' for that. Hey, you look at me when...
" Jay ripped Jason's baseball cap off his head.
Jason closed his eyes as Jay's grew wider. "Oh holy fuck.
Motherfucker. Holy fucking shit."
"Don't say that, all right?" Jason practically screamed. "Just calm
down. Just calm down."

Jason closed up the store, put a "Be back in fifteen minutes" sign
on the front door. He and Jay sat on the back stoop in the waning
Jersey sun.
Jay laughed. "So I guess it was just a matter of time, right? I
mean, before I found someone that was me. If Brodie and Holden and
those other dudes have people that look like them, I guess I got one
too."
Jason shook his head. "No, that isn't it. Brodie looks like Banky
looks like Azrael because they are the same people, not just
doppelgangers."
Jay frowned. "Wait. Brodie isn't Banky. I know that. And neither of
them got horns."
"No, I mean..." Jason stared at his hands, unable to find the words to
make Jay understand. "Well, Brodie and Banky and Azrael aren't the
same people, but they're played by the same guy."
Jay nodded. "Like a movie."
"Yes! Yes, like a movie. Exactly like in a movie."
"So like they're different people, but they're based on the same
thing."
Jason shrugged. If Jay wanted to believe that, he could. It was
probably closest to the truth. "I guess. But you and me, we're
different from the way they are."
"Yeah?"
"We're the same person. Except you're me about fifteen years ago."
"You don't look older than me."
"No, I mean, we're both the same age. But you act like I did when I
was fifteen. Except...you don't, exactly. Somewhere in the script you
changed a little."
Jay thought about this. Then he pulled out a pack of Nails. "Yo,
want one?"
Jason shook his head. "I can't."
"Some weed then? I think I got some on me."
"I can't."
Jay gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Man, why not?"
Jason sighed. "I just got out of rehab, okay? And I'm sick of people
hassling me about it."
Jay snorted. "What, for pot? Jeez."
"For heroin!" Jason shouted. "I'm not like you. I don't have such a
great life with Silent Bob. I can't just smoke some weed and let it
all go away, I have to deal with shit that I'm not equipped for." He
rolled up his sleeve. "You see? You see the needle marks? That's my
fucking life!"
Jay traced the track marks with his fingertips. "Shit," he
whispered. He stopped. "Holy fuck. Can you feel that?"
Jason had. He had felt himself (Jay) touching Jason's (his) arm.
Felt Jay feeling Jason feeling Jay feeling Jason and on and on ad
infinitum, forever in a recursive tactile circle.
Jason smiled weakly. "You see? We are the same person."
Jay was silent for a moment. Then he said, "This could be fun.
Jacking off and shit, it'd be like ultimate masturbation."
Jason stared at himself in shock. Had he really just said that? He
remembered an interview where the questioner had asked him, "Is Jay
really a sensitive and emotional person just putting up a crude
front to protect himself, or is he really that dumb and tactless and
just does whatever's on his mind?" The answer, he recalled, had
been "Yeah, maybe." Now he wished he had given a more definite
answer.

They went back to the apartment that Jay and Bob shared. For a
moment he felt like he was invading the world that the two shared,
but then reminded himself that he was Jay anyway so it didn't
matter.
They sat on the couch. Jay leaned over and kissed Jason, brushing
his lips against his cheek, and Jason again felt that recursive
touch cycle. It tingled.
"Wow," murmured Jay.
Jason twisted a lock of Jay's long blonde hair around his fingers.
It slipped through his hand, and he felt a phantom tugging at his
own head. "I missed this," he said.
Jay ran his fingers through Jason's shorn hair. He felt the alien
touch on his own hands, the soft bristly slide. "They made you cut
it off."
Jason nodded. "The people at New Path said my long hair marked me as
a member of the subculture. They wanted me to be a productive member
of society an' shit."
"Damn." Jay shook his head. "Didn't that whole short hair, long hair
thing go out with, like, the 1960s?"
"There are a lot of people that are stuck in the 60s," said Jason.
He wrapped Jay's long hair around his hand, feeling it slide,
feeling the soft pressure on his own head.
Jay slid his hand up Jason's neck and drew their heads together,
foreheads touching. He softly kissed Jason on the mouth, running his
tongue over his lips.
Jason pulled away. "I can't. I'm sorry, I can't."
Jay looked at him in puzzlement. "What's wrong?"
"This is too much. You're kissing me, and...I'm you, I'm kissing me."
Jay sat back. "Well fuck, if you can't handle this shit." He
shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
Jason studied his counterpart, trying to decode his actions. Did Jay
really not care? Why was it that he could feel Jay touching him, but
he couldn't feel what he was thinking?
Rachel had been right. Horselover Fat had been right. The universe
was schizophrenic.
Jason grabbed Jay by the shoulders, pushing him onto his back on the
couch. Kissed him as roughly as he dared, thrusting his tongue into
his mouth, biting his lower lip, tasting his own taste. He ignored
the sensations battling within his head, the screaming of his own
mind asking him what the hell he thought he was doing.
Jay moaned. "Yeah, that's it." He fumbled with Jason's pants,
finally figuring out that they were sweatpants and sliding his hand
down. "Oh shit, that's fuckin' weird!"
"What?" Jason murmured.
"It's like you're touchin' me, like when I'm feelin' what you're
feelin' and..."
"Yeah." Jason shut his eyes. Once you got into it, it made sense. He
mirrored Jay's actions, hearing with pleasure the gasp it elicited
from both of them.
They shed their clothes, tasted each other's skin, explored the same
bodies they shared. Felt the same, tasted the same, sounded the
same, said the same, came the same at the same instant...and then they
were both of them at the same time.