Reality Leak (2023)

PART 1: I GOT A MILD HEAD INJURY

Scott's problems start.

The stack of stuff in Scott’s arms wobbled precariously. A large, empty plastic tub, a couple of scuffed 3DS boxes and a container full of loose GBA cartridges were balanced in his grip as he peered around the unstable tower, searching for the first step of the stairs with a socked toe.

He bit his lip as his foot found the drop, and began to make his way downstairs. A 3DS box started to slide sideways and he quickly juggled it back. He didn’t want to completely ruin these things. Not yet, anyways.

Scott’s foot slipped.

Ah. Socks on a wooden floor, Scott thought, half a second before his tailbone collided with the edge of a stair.

Each object he’d been holding bounced down the steps as he did the same, tumbling down like a cartoon character. The short trip concluded with his head colliding with the wall. And then the floor at the base of the stairs.

“SHIT! OW!” He hissed, rubbing his temple. “Ow, ow... fuck.”

Of course. Of course this would happen right now. He was busy— really busy—he didn’t have time to deal with a possible head injury when he was already delaying the Christmas special. There were still, like, eight things he needed to do before the guys came over tonight.

Apparently this is what he got for trying to keep his workspace clean by keeping junky boxes upstairs.

He sighed aggressively through his nose before tentatively feeling the place on his skull where there’d likely be a bruise soon. It was a little tender but... He pulled his hand away from his head and inspected it. Yep, no blood... no broken skin. He let out a breath. So, no injury. He was fine!

Grumbling, he picked himself off of the floor, cracking his spine. Scott spied the container for the GBA cartridges, lid detached and its former contents now spreading across the floor.

The man scrubbed his tired eyes with his fingertips and got to work cleaning up. The stress was already making his skull pound.

***

“A spare 3DS box?” Eric asked, pausing his assault on a squishy stress ball to think. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Eric stretched himself out in his seat on the couch, making the most of the available free space. He’d shifted his phone away from his face a little to talk to Scott, idly alternating between squeezing the ball and twirling his hoodie strings. The two were hanging around the basement, waiting for the third member of their trio to arrive.

Scott sighed and tossed the roll of tape aside, holding up his ‘project’ for the other to see. The crumpled and flattened cardboard box wasn’t going back into shape. And the tape was peeling the image off. Dammit.

“I had some spare ones I didn’t mind ruining for a video. But I accidentally ruined this one a little early...”

The image of himself earlier crushing the box under his ass when he’d fallen came to mind.

Eric hummed. “Well you’re destroying it anyway, right? Or do you need it to not look like shit before that?”

Scott shrugged. “Argh! I dunno. It’s just bothering me for no reason.”

“Perfectionist,” Eric snickered lightheartedly.

Scott threw the cardboard at him, smiling. “Shut up!”

He had just stood to begin another search for an expendable box when the doorbell chimed. Both men glanced at each other. Eric made a show of getting extra comfortable in his spot on the couch, migrating his attention back to his phone, which caused Scott to roll his eyes.

“I thought he said he was gonna be super late,” he commented absently.

Not for the first time that day, he hesitated as he stepped on the carpeted basement stairs before mentally scolding himself for being stupid. Although, he did make sure to glare at the other set of uncarpeted stairs on his way past them.

He cracked open the door to let Sam in, who glanced up from his phone screen when he saw the door swing inwards.

“Hey, Scott,” the other man greeted, stepping forwards and throwing his phone into his back pocket.

Scott twitched. His hand spasmed at his side. Something in his face shifted. Then, he was blinking rapidly. Sam was already walking away to the stairs, and had turned back to look at his frozen friend.

“...Are you coming?”

Scott quickly closed the door. “Um—yeah. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming...”

What was that?! His brain was buzzing...

Maybe he needed some more sleep.

The pair ventured down to the basement.

Eric and Sam said their hellos and immediately launched into conversation, meanwhile Scott hung back. Another ache made itself known in his head and he winced. Decision made.

“Hey, guys? Can you throw the disc in? I just need to grab something real quick.”

He dashed away before they could say anything else. He was feeling really weird all of a sudden and as much as the ‘Scott, you’re insane!’ joke got passed around, he’d rather that not be true. Hopefully he could just take something, drink some water and then sit peacefully—okay, well, as peacefully as he could on a ‘Guy’s Night’ like this—and then he’d be peachy. His hand skimmed through his hair.

Just peachy.

***

Scott was laying in bed, staring up at the dark, blurry, ceiling. Water bottle full, phone charging, glasses on the side table.

What an awful night. Not that it was his friends’ fault, of course. It was just... generally not so great. His energy was all over the place today; it was kinda annoying, actually. One second he’d be barking out a laugh at yet another stupid-ass Wheel of Fortune answer, Sam and Eric both giggling from their spots on the couch beside him, and then the next it felt like his brain was taking a backseat. Just static... and the constant headaches...

Then he’d be back in the driver’s seat of his brain again, like he’d just dozed off.

Scott smeared his hands over his face. But now he didn’t even feel tired when he actually wanted to sleep! What was the point of his dozing off earlier if he can’t knock himself out when he needed it?!

So now he was just moody AND socially drained. Maybe if he finished work early tomorrow, he could actually take some time off.

He really needed to take a break before his brain broke.

PART 2: I HATE THOSE FUCKING DUCKS

Scott and Sam talk in the car.

“Scott... have you been feeling alright recently?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the car.

The man in question blinked. He wasn’t expecting that. Scott took one hand off the steering wheel to rub the back of his neck.

“Well, no. Finally getting Merry Christmas, Data Design out was a mess. And it was late. And there was a power cut that I could literally do nothing about. So... a little stressed out of my mind, recently,” he laughed humorlessly.

Sam nodded seriously. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. I just noticed... you just seemed to be acting odd, y’know? So I just wanna check on ya.”

Scott drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Well. I really appreciate it, thank you.”

The other man smiled back. “Let me know if I can help out.”

He shrugged. “Well that’s it now. Except for filming for Scott’s Stash. But that’s a different story, there.”

“Uh huh, uh huh.”

Sam looked hesitant, but remained quiet. Scott took a hand off the wheel to massage his temple. The drive stayed quiet for a minute. No music. The air conditioning was whirring.

Until Sam cleared his throat. “Actually there was something else bothering me. But I don’t know how to bring it up.”

Confused, Scott hummed. “Go for it.”

Sam pursed his lips. “I just think you freaked Dom and Justin out the other night.”

Now he was even more confused. It must have shown on his face, as Sam quickly elaborated.

“Um. When you just started randomly yelling about... ducks? And then you just sat down again and acted like nothing happened. I mean, I thought it was funny. But I think you just made them think you’d finally snapped!” He laughed.

...The fuck?

Once again, he was read like an open book. Sam stopped laughing. “Oh... shit—sorry, what’s up?”

Oh, don’t worry, dude. It’s just that I literally do not remember that happening at all. So. That’s awesome.

He coughed awkwardly. “Erm. When was that?” He chuckled. “Was a... long night, y’know? I’d just wrapped everything up for the year...”

The speed that Sam’s eyebrows furrowed was impressive. “No. No, don’t do that...”

Scott bit his lip awkwardly.

“What’s going on, Scott?” Sam pressed.

The driver waved his hand dismissively. “Uh, I’ll apologize to them when I get back. I didn’t mean to freak them out by—by yelling.”

Why had he been yelling about ducks?

Sam stared at him. Scott could see it from the corner of his eye. He winced at another strike of pain in his head, and he could tell that Sam noticed it.

“Sorry—I’ve just been having these... nasty headaches since I fell down the stairs the other week—” He snapped his jaw shut.

“...Since you what?!”

“No—It’s—I’m fine, see? I just didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“You’re not fine! We just talked about how you’re not fine! And now you’re saying you fell?! What happened?!”

“I–I just slipped and fell! Hit my ass and my head and dropped the stuff I was carrying, that’s all.”

Sam spluttered. “That’s all?! You—you hit your head! Now you’re having consistent headaches. Did you not think about this at all?!”

...Well, now he looked like an idiot.

His heart was thumping. So he did have an actual head injury? Was he gonna have to go to the hospital?

“I don’t... remember yelling,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, no, you apparently have amnesia now after knocking your brain out of your skull.”

Scott paused for a moment. “I remember before and after it, though,” he glanced over at his friend. “But I don’t remember... that yelling about ducks stuff.”

Now Sam was the confused one. “What is this, then? Some kind of... episode? I don’t know anything about brain stuff,” he confessed.

“Me neither,” Scott admitted worriedly. “And if I don’t remember that, then what else have I forgotten?”

Something dawned on Sam. “This isn’t the first time you’ve acted weird like that.”

Scott’s eyes widened. Shit.

Sam rapidly snapped his fingers. “Eric recorded you at one point. When you were acting weird. Not this week... last week, I think. We need to ask him for the video.”

“Why was he recording me?!”

“‘Cause it was kinda funny! You’ll see what I mean.”

Scott grumbled halfheartedly as Sam pulled out his phone to text Eric, both men hoping it wouldn’t take too long to get a response. Scott continued driving, and he could see Sam keep glancing up at him. He awkwardly curled up a little.

Thankfully, luck was on their side. Two minutes later, Sam’s phone pinged as he received a reply from Eric.

“Is that it?” Scott asked, parking up near Sam’s apartment.

Sam nodded and flipped his phone around to show Scott the video.

It was obviously from Eric’s spot on the couch, the camera pointed straight at Scott himself. He was sitting in his seat, dramatically hunching over and crossing his arms, with his face showcasing the most cartoonishly over-dramatic pout he’d ever seen. From behind the camera, Eric laughed.

“This is what a sore loser looks like!”

The Scott in the video flung out his arms, somehow intensifying his pout, as Sam could be heard joining in the laughter from somewhere behind Eric. “Nah, I think a true sore loser would start threatening some violence.”

At this, Scott snapped his head to look over at them, now suddenly grinning. “Oh, I know all about violence!”

The other two clearly found this ‘threat’ funny, as they continued to laugh at their friend’s antics. Just before the video ended, Scott’s expression softened and a concerned furrow appeared on his brow.

Scott looked up at Sam.

“No, I don’t remember that,” he said to the question that hadn’t been asked.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that...”

PART 3: I HAD A DREAM ABOUT THIS

Scott wakes up to a unique situation.

“Well... I don’t feel entirely comfortable leaving you alone like this, but... well, there’s not much I can do, is there?”

“...No. I guess there isn’t. I’ll let you know if anything happens...?”

“Please. Stay safe. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

***

The only thing Scott could think about right now was his conversation with Sam in the car. Of course, he’d repeatedly reassured him that he was fine and that he’d let him know about any developments or incidents or whatever. And both of those things were true! Well, the only reason he said he was fine was probably because he refused to process it. Although, he had a good excuse; thinking about it was making his head hurt.

Well, he was processing it now. And now he was freaking out.

Why was he so reluctant to seek out help?! Clearly that would be his best option right now, even at this late hour. And yet here he was, sitting at his desk. Working.

At least that melatonin he’d taken was gonna start kicking in soon... hopefully very soon ‘cause that’d be a good excuse for not having to take things seriously right this very second.

Scott yawned. That video from Eric looped around in his head again. Scott thought about how strange he’d looked. That expression that’d been plastered on his face.

His eyes drifted to the monitor in front of him, looking at the video preview in the editor. Looking at himself, there in that preview.

A thought hung suspended in his brain. But the connection refused to click, as Scott was already beginning to drift off to sleep.

***

Scott blinked awake. Huh. He didn’t remember falling asleep so quickly... but his whole body felt heavy with exhaustion. What time even was it?

His hand reached for his phone, not finding it. He thought it was on his desk, but he couldn’t see it...

He wasn’t even sitting at his desk.

...Was he on the couch? Why had he fallen asleep on the couch? He’d been working! Well—he must’ve just moved in his sleep. Duh, of course.

Scott found his phone shoved in his jeans pocket. Wow, sleeping in his hoodie and jeans? He was hitting a new low.

A hoodie? He hadn’t been wearing...

The phone screen flickered on.

Scott froze up.

...What?

Instead of the default lock screen—HIS lock screen background—it was... a rotated selfie with the guys? It seemed ordinary enough; he, Sam, Eric, Justin, Joe and Dominic crowding together and smiling at the awkwardly held up camera. Clearly from Borderline Forever, judging by the ‘Volunteer Vegan’ hat balanced on Sam’s head and the green field background. But he’d already noticed... their hair was getting swept with wind.

Wind that should not have been real.

He’d used a green screen. They hadn’t filmed in that field... he’d just taken a photo when he’d actually been there to use later.

For all intents and purposes, this photo should not exist.

Also—who uses a landscape selfie as a portrait lock screen? That was just weird.

No—that’s not what’s important right now. Something was wrong and he needed to investigate this. Scott opened up his camera roll. He blinked.

More photos! More photos that shouldn’t be real! Lots of pictures of his collection, of his favorite knickknacks and of... scenes of Scott The Woz episodes with the guys. Sure, he could lie to himself and he could say that these were just photos from on set or whatever. But he was looking at that field, at the interior of the Wii shovelware spaceship, at a blurry photo of the fucking Anti-Gex and he was coming to a very uncomfortable conclusion.

Scott stood up so fast it made his head spin. His breathing quickened as he looked around the basement. There was a large empty space where his carpet filming setup should have been.

His attention returned to the phone in his shaky hands, reluctantly opening his texts. He needed more proof.

Multiple conversations to Rex Mohs. To Jeb Jab. To Jerry Attricks. A group chat for Team F*cked. A group chat for ‘Gex Night’.

He must be dreaming right now.

***

Scott blinked awake. Huh. He didn’t remember falling asleep so quickly... but his whole body felt heavy with exhaustion.

...Was he sitting at his computer desk? Why had he fallen asleep here? He’d been on the couch...

Scott spied the monitor in front of him, the screensaver cycling peacefully until he wiggled the mouse to wake it up, feeling the strange impulse to do so.

...What the hell was this? His eyes were wide at the sight of the editing software on the screen, displaying footage of himself at his desk. How?! He didn’t record at his desk! Well—not often, anyways. Who’d been spying on him?! The government? Did this mean the IRS was finally getting on his ass about not paying his taxes?! Sh*t.

He got up from his chair, clutching his head at the vertigo it caused. He froze. What the f*ck was that in the corner?! A... cut of carpet on a table? So many cameras...

Scott looked around the basement. So many CAMERAS!! They were everywhere! Studio lights and cameras and wires... it looked like...

It looked like a set.

His heart rate was skyrocketing. What did this all mean?! He did not like the picture that was currently being painted...

The air in this room felt wrong. He felt trapped. His skin was crawling, it almost felt itchy...

Scott looked down at himself. Was he wearing a f*cking turtleneck?!

Somehow, that was his breaking point.

The panicked man stumbled, not even realizing that he’d been backing away from it all, knocking over a tripod and watching it crash to the ground. It was like the first domino. Scott went on the warpath, attacking the accursed studio lights and cameras in an attempt to get rid of his discomfort—to get rid of the changes that made his familiar living space into something unrecognizable. Cords and cables were torn out of the wall, lenses were smashed, the TVs, monitors, bottles of fake blood and other props were shattered on the ground. He kicked the debris away.

He was wrestling with the rug on the stupid table when he slipped backwards. Snapped out of his frantic emotions and now on the floor, he began to break down. He curled up against the table leg and sobbed his heart out; he felt like this nightmare wasn’t going to end. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

Scott’s phone began to buzz. Through his distress, he managed to fish the device from his pocket. It was an incoming FaceTime.

Scott cried even harder.

Who the f*ck was Eric Turney?

Hesitantly, his thumb hovered over the answer button. He sniffled, his eyes lingering over the name as something in the back of his head told him to answer it. He did.

“Hey, Scott. Sam told me—”

Both of them stopped and stared.

“Are—have you been crying? Are you alright?” ‘Eric Turney’ asked. “...Are you on the floor?! Shit, have you fallen again?”

Scott startled. That was—but it wasn’t—

“You’re not Rex,” he blurted out, before promptly ending the call.

Now would be a good time to wake up.

He threw the phone on the floor and hugged his knees close to his chest, feeling the soft wool of somebody else’s turtleneck sweater.

PART 4: I COULDN’T FIND MY WAY HOME

Scott tries to figure out what's going on.

Scott wandered around his house. It felt so foreign to him. There were small things like his props and costumes not being separated from his actual closet and belongings. His own merchandise was nonexistent. No cameras, lights, green screen. Upstairs seemed barely lived in... it was clear that the basement was where things were happening in this place.

Eventually, Scott completed his lonely tour and found himself back at the couch. He sat down heavily, his thoughts were distant.

Well. He hadn’t woken up yet.

That was a bad sign.

So, what? This was real, then?

But of course it wasn’t real. This... this was Scott The Woz. Obviously it wasn’t real because it was his web series that he wrote and produced.

...It was difficult to argue that point when literally everything right now pointed to the contrary. Fuck.

Okay. Okay. It was time to become insane, then, ‘cause he was gonna start believing this was real. But now what? Click his heels and find himself back home? Yeah, right. This wasn’t a movie—oh. Huh...

Nervously, Scott glanced around the room, unsure. If this was... fictional... then surely there was some kind of writer or player or something like that who was watching. Or listening?

“Hello?” He called out, uncertainly. “Can I... leave? Please.”

Nothing happened. Alright, so pleading wasn’t gonna work. He wasn’t sure what his next plan was gonna be.

Scott was clearly having trouble processing this—he was literally witnessing some kind of TV trope plot happening to him in real life and yet he was barely even freaking out. He should be crying and hyperventilating and knocking shit over right now!

The weary man twirled the ends of his hoodie strings between his fingers. What had happened? Falling asleep? But he did that every night, duh. Nothing special about that. Although, he had taken melatonin...

And what had literally happened? He was the only one here; he wasn’t facing his alternate self or whatever. Scott paused and looked down at the string in his hand. From the hoodie he hadn’t been wearing before.

Before he’d suddenly woken up somewhere he hadn’t been when he fell asleep.

Oh.

He’d... swapped.

He’d swapped places with his... other self? His alternative version? His... character? Yeah, his character.

Or had he... possessed his character? Whatever. This was so wrong.

Scott chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment.

...The inside of his character’s mouth? Gah—whatever! He was thinking.

His hand hovered over his right sleeve... this would be a good way to test something...

Scott yanked the sleeve up, revealing a plaid tattoo.

He burst out in hysterical laughter.

He felt a little faint, honestly.

Actually... it kinda seemed like everything was spinning around...

Scott was on the floor. One second he wasn’t, and then the next he was. He felt tense and the skin on his face was stinging a little. He brushed a hand over his cheeks... they were wet. Tears...? He’d been crying?

Scott wiped the foreign tears out of his eyes and sat up a little, puffing out air as he knocked his head against the overhanging rug on the table he’d apparently been leaning against.

His table! Thank God. His carpet-filming set up was here. He was back.

Relieved, he stood and eyed the table. Scott frowned... it looked like his camera setup was about to fall off the edge...

He turned around. His eyes widened.

What the FUCK happened to his HOUSE?!

‘Oh my God.’ was all he could think as he mournfully gazed around his mess of a basement. The price tag in his head grew bigger as he spotted each broken piece of equipment that was gonna need replacing. So... definitely a ‘swap’ then; he’d stolen the body of his character while... his character had stolen...

The discomfort that Scott was feeling right now was... indescribable. He felt violated, even. Some–some guy had just been waltzing around in his body like he owned the place. Destroying his stuff! And he’d just ended his parade by curling up under a table and crying, apparently.

Ignoring the fact that he’d basically done the same thing—well, at least he hadn’t gone breaking shit!

Scott’s foot hovered over his phone, still on the floor and seconds away from being stepped on. Slowly, he picked it up and turned it on.

Oh no.

***

Scott felt disorientated. Wasn’t he just in the middle of having a breakdown? What gives? And now he was suddenly seated on his couch?

Hold on...

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, experienced a fresh preview of hell in the form of an incredibly realistic nightmare that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life and now he was back on the couch?

So it was just a dream.

Well... he couldn’t say he was a fan of the whole ordeal.

Beginning to calm down now, he fought for breath, his heart continuing to beat rapidly. It’d felt so real; he’d definitely been convinced. He wiped under his eyes—dry. But he noticed something.

...His sleeve was rolled up.

Immediately, he flushed red. He wasn’t always that comfortable sharing his tattoo... who pulled his sleeve up while he was sleeping?! He yanked it back down, snatching his phone from his pocket to check the time.

Scott frowned at all the apps he’d left open. That would be eating up his battery. Weird... he usually closed them all when he was done using the device.

Awkwardly, he scratched his head. So was he really supposed to have the most f*cked up dream in the world, question everything he knew about his life and the reality of the world, and then just go on with his day?

...F*ck it, okay then. Sure.

He curled back up on the couch to go back to sleep.

PART 5: I MISSED THAT CALL

Scott's friends are concerned.

Fuck.

FUCK.

So... this dude—this invader—not only wrecks his home, but decides to wreck his friendships too?!

The call history displayed on his phone screen right now continued to stare back at him. Multiple missed calls from Eric followed a brief, answered call from not too long ago.

What had the imposter Scott done? What had he said?

A text from Eric, reading ‘call back please’ also had his attention.

Scott paced. Eight, sweating fingers clutched the phone as his thumbs hovered, immobile over the keyboard.

Sorry, man, that wasn’t me it was an evil doppelgänger.

No.

Sorry, man, I was tired.

What? No.

Sorry, man, April fools!

It was January!

He couldn’t fuckin’ think straight right now. And surely he didn’t have long before he wouldn’t be able to recover this; spinning it as joking or serious or otherwise. Already, it had probably been too long for any reply he could possibly come up with to cover the length of time it had taken for him to even read the damn thing.

It would be so much easier if he could know everything that had happened, but all he had were the remains of his basement, the dried tears on his face and the already faded marks of nails pressed too hard into his palms.

Frantic knocking at the front door sent his heart straight into his throat. He squeaked and fumbled the phone, almost dropping it.

Time’s up.

He scuttled upstairs.

Hesitant seemed like too weak of a word as his hand hovered over the door handle. He was an adult! He didn’t have to answer his door if he didn’t want to.

More knocks came through the wood, making him flinch.

Eric’s voice was muffled. “Scott! Open up! Please! ...Can you open the door? Shit—what if he can’t answer...?”

All at once, he felt the worry wash away, leaving him just... tired. His friends were concerned about him. They could help. He needed to talk to them. They would understand.

Scott opened the door. Immediately, two hands landed firm on his shoulders and he was looking straight into Eric’s wide, concerned eyes.

“Holy shit, Scott, you freaked me out. Like, I can’t emphasize that enough. I’m pretty sure I was speeding to get here.”

Scott sighed. “There’s a lot to talk about.”

Clearly, Eric had come to the conclusion that his friend was no longer in immediate danger as the tension left his posture and he lowered one hand, but kept the other one where it was, so that he could squeeze reassuringly.

“Whatever you need, I’m all ears.”

***

Eric blinked at the damage in the basement. “I see what you mean,” was all he could muster.

Scott groaned. “I don’t think I have the willpower to even clean this up right now,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry about it now, we can fix it all later, yeah?”

Scott puffed out some air, but nodded. He felt bad about it, but he was probably gonna have to ask for some help with it. Maybe he could find one of those snack platters as a bribe...

Both of them sat down on the couch. Time to talk.

Eric made sure that the phone call he’d started was still going. “Can you hear?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Sam’s voice came from the speaker with a yawn.

It was too late in the night—early in the morning?—to be calling everyone else right now. Thankfully, Sam and Eric didn’t have work in the morning to think about and the appropriate update texts had already been sent to those who did. Now, Sam was ready to take some notes to help everyone who needed the catch-up.

Scott, Sam and Eric. The trio, Scott thought, humorlessly.

“Start from the beginning, then. What’s the beginning?”

“Well, the beginning is just last night. I went to sleep and then when I woke up it was... weird.”

“So you said.”

“Well, now that we’ve got the phone call set up I can tell you why it was weird. And you’re not gonna believe me. I hope you’ll believe me, but this is some crazy shit.”

Eric leaned forwards, nodding encouragingly. Scott scratched the knee of his pants hesitantly.

“It was like I was... in Scott The Woz. So I fell asleep at my desk, right? But I woke up and I was on the couch... wearing something else. And then I noticed that all my filming stuff was just gone. I thought I was dreaming...”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “You... thought you were dreaming? So... you weren’t?”

Scott nodded severely. “I don’t think it was a dream. You’re gonna have to trust me on that.”

Eric flapped his hand. “Of course, of course. Keep going, I believe you.”

A wave of happiness filled Scott’s heart. They believed him. That was good.

“It was so weird. But then... okay—so I’m making an assumption, right? I think that I, uh... swapped places with, like—you know, like with Scott the character?” He waited for another nod before continuing. “So, uh, because we swapped places—I was in his shoes, and then while I was doing that he was here.”

Understanding, Eric looked around the room.

Scott ran a hand through his hair. “Y’see? It’s fucked up.”

“So, what, he trashed the place?”

“Yeah! I kinda... woke back up? I don’t know how to describe it. And I was on the floor over there,” he gestured at the corner. “I spotted all the damage and shit and I only just noticed the calls and stuff on my phone right before you got here.”

Both of his friends stayed quiet, processing.

“Alright,” Eric said eventually. “So... you don’t know about the FaceTime, then?”

“No,” Scott confirmed. “Oh my God, please tell me what happened with that.”

Eric laughed briefly. “I was just gonna tell you that Sam had told me about the head injury stuff, but when you picked up, you were crying and on the floor.”

Scott placed his head firmly in his hands.

“Dude you gotta stop ending up on the floor,” Sam laughed.

Eric hummed. “You know, you called me Rex. Well—you said I wasn’t Rex.”

Scott made a frustrated noise. “Great.”

“Theories, then?” Sam suggested. “‘Cause I just thought of somethin’ that you’re not gonna love.”

“A gas leak,” Scott scoffed.

“No idea,” Eric admitted. “If you have something, you better say.”

“Well,” Sam hummed, organizing his thoughts. “Remember in the car, when we were talking about a certain accident? Right. Well you’ve been acting weird and we had the video and stuff. And I couldn’t put my finger on it, but that was definitely you acting like... well, like ‘character’ Scott, don’t you agree?”

Eric snapped his fingers. “You’re totally right. Like you were doing a bit or somethin’ in character.”

Oh. Right. He’d been close to figuring that out himself, hadn’t he? Just before he’d decided to conveniently doze off in his chair.

“Yeah! So... we take that and the ducks thing, and we assume these are other examples of ‘swapping’ incidents,” Sam said.

Scott shook his head. “I can agree with that. Except those times I just... don’t remember anything? This time, with the swap, it was like... it was different, I guess. Do you know what I mean?”

“So the other times were just tasters,” Eric concluded, and all three agreed.

“But there’s more,” Sam stated.

Scott raised an eyebrow. Was he missing something?

“You’re missing something. Eric, flick him on the forehead or whatever for me.”

Scott swatted Eric’s hand away from his head. “What? What? Be less suspenseful.”

Sam quickly apologized. “Okay, so—stop being an oblivious movie character for a sec—what’s the connecting thing that happened? The thing that explains you acting weird?” Sam prompted.

Scott swore. “The fuckin’—the fuckin’ knock on the head, right? Shit—that was obvious, why did I miss that?”

Eric massaged his forehead. “Brain damage causes reality to break? Since when?”

“You just gotta throw out logic for a second and it all makes—well, it makes ‘sense’, I guess.”

Scott made another frustrated noise. “Well now I definitely can’t go to the hospital. Awesome.”

Eric leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, the hospital is definitely out of the equation, now. This shit’ll get ya sent to the government.”

“But what causes the swaps?” Scott whined. “That’s my main problem right now. Don’t know what causes them and I don’t know how to—how to get back here.”

“Look on the bright side,” Eric chuckled weakly. “No need to act for the camera when you got a buddy who can take over and do it for you!”

Scott stared at him, deadpan.

PART 6: I’M WAITING IT OUT

The guys think.

“As much as I hate to suggest it, we’re probably gonna have to leave it like this for the night.”

Eric and Scott both spluttered.

“No, no—hear me out, right? No hospital, and we don’t know what’s causing it. What can we do?”

He was right. What could they do?

And unfortunately, he knew what needed to be done...

He sighed. “It’s gonna have to happen again for us to get more info.”

Eric winced. “Yeah... are you alright with that?”

“Well. I’m gonna have to be. I don’t really have a choice here.”

“And it’s really late now. I doubt you really slept well with all this going on,” Sam sympathized.

Scott barked out a laugh. “No, I’m exhausted right now. Nevermind the melatonin nap.”

He wasn’t lying; he felt unbelievably drained right now—emotionally, mentally, physically.

“It’s just a lot to process, you know? Fucking alternate universes. That’s... that’s just... wow,” Scott threw himself back in his seat. “Life’s a movie, amirite?”

If everything he was currently living through right now wasn’t just some comatose dream, this would be a pretty incredible scientific breakthrough. World-changing. World-ending.

Scott considered it. Would probably also have a fairly large impact on video games and sci-fi culture... Interesting...

Eric exhaled. “You know, it’s kinda crazy to think that I was literally talking to a guy from another reality on FaceTime.”

Scott gave him a weird look.

“Well I was, wasn’t I? I wasn’t talking to you; I was talking to the character guy.”

Loud shuffling noises emanated from the phone speaker.

“GUYS!” Sam’s voice was very loud. “We could, like, straight up talk to the guy. That’s insane.”

Scott was baffled. “And say what?? As much as I’d like to blame him, I don’t think this is his fault, exactly.”

“No, I mean like we can talk to him in an educational way. Find out what it’s like living in another universe and everything,” Sam clarified.

Eric scratched at his beard. “I dunno. It’s not like he has a frame of reference, right? It’s just... normal life for him or whatever.”

Scott massaged at his nose bridge. “Okay—how about this: come up with questions and we can ask them next time. Why am I even suggesting that?”

“You gotta join in tryin’ to put a positive spin on this whole ordeal, y’know?”

“Well, I’m still not fond of your last ‘positive spin’. I don’t need to hire my character as an actor, thanks.”

Eric shrugged. “I tried. It was the first thing I thought of.”

Sam hummed. “I wanna know how far the events of our world affect the fictional one. Like... if you wrote a character dying in the next episode, they’d drop dead, right? But then obviously there isn’t gonna be an episode about all this. So what I mean is... are they gonna... stray from canon? Like—create its own timeline? I dunno how anything is s’posed to work.”

“Please don’t start seriously considering the canon of Scott The Woz,” Scott laughed.

Eric smirked. “What, you don’t like the fan theories?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Scott continued to cackle.

***

Conversation continued aimlessly, dwindling as conversations do, as the time passed. Soon, all three were yawning almost constantly and had to admit defeat to the demon known as ‘tiredness’. Sam was the first to make his leave, overdramatically complaining about the cost of phone calls these days.

The remaining pair hung up the phone on him mid-sentence as Scott walked Eric to the door.

“Sorry,” Eric apologized, not for the first time. “I really don’t want to leave you on your own, honestly.”

Scott shrugged it off. “You’re only a car trip and a phone call away. I’ll leave myself a note or something for the other guy to see to call you if things happen. It’ll all work out,” he reassured.

He swallowed roughly. That ‘if’ was carrying the weight of the world. Admittedly, he’d rather nothing happened at all and everything went back to normal. Hey, a guy can dream, alright?

“The worst case scenario is more property damage, yeah? Don’t sweat it. Nothing bad will happen to you, alright?”

Scott lightheartedly crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Ever heard of jinxing something?”

Eric chuckled. “My bad. But you know what I mean.”

He twirled his car keys on his finger, almost dropping them, and nodded at his friend. “See ya later,” he smiled, turning away.

Scott smiled back. The door clicked shut. Now what?

...Might as well try and sleep.

Weirdly, he felt like he wasn’t alone as he walked around the house, switching off lights and grabbing himself a water bottle. He couldn’t shake the feeling. The hairs on his arms stood on end the entire time he was preparing for sleep.

Scott knew from the second that his head hit the pillow that this was gonna be difficult. He knew—well, he strongly assumed—that sleep had nothing to do with his little cross-universe trip earlier. But he still naturally felt some aversion to trying to sleep now. And yeah, he didn’t experience pain or anything when he swapped, but the discomfort of the situation kinda put him off a little. So... aversion to sleep was the end result, there. He was pretty much begging his brain to stop doing brain stuff right now—this was gonna be a bitch to get a handle on, if he was now suddenly afraid of sleeping.

He chuckled lightly. Wasn’t the last time he did this thinking and staring at the ceiling thing because of personality-swapping shenanigans? God.

Unfortunately, he decided to turn to his phone to scroll through. Why not try a little brainless doing nothing to stop him from dwelling on negatives?

It wasn’t long before the social media scroll turned into a peaceful scroll through his camera roll. He knew that too many of these photos were work related... but that didn’t stop them from being snapshots of fun times with his friends and his family.

Soon, he was falling asleep to the sight of some of his favorite captured memories, countless goofy photos shining out from the screen as it slipped from his grip and hit his mattress.

PART 7: I DROWNED IN THE DEEP BLUE

Scott is stressed.

Scott winced at the cold. It bit at his legs and arms and neck. Already, he was shivering.

His plain white shirt and baggy boxer shorts were no match for the temperature attack; the cold simply chewed right through them. The iciness seeped into his bare feet. He clutched at his arms, the hairs standing upright.

It was as if he was standing in a grocery store’s freezer, the way the air was so frigid and sterile.

Maybe a restaurant freezer, he thought instead, looking down curiously at the tiled patterned floor. Checkered tiles? Where even was he? It... seemed familiar. Somehow. But he definitely didn’t know where he was, he was sure of that.

He began to walk. Why not? It almost seemed like a hook had latched into his brain, dragging him forwards...

Slowly, the sound of padding footsteps transformed.

Plp plp plp.

...Splashing? He stopped—looked down.

Border-blue liquid. It was pouring over the floor. The stuff was pooling over the tiles, traveling. Behind them, it was becoming stained. The checkers were turning blue.

A blue, checkered background.

The blue stopped traveling. It started to spread, instead. Like a faucet filling the space, the volume of liquid increased, except with no discernable source. And it was fast.

It lapped at his feet and then his ankles in no time.

The blue climbed higher, staining his skin. There was no higher ground, he couldn’t climb anywhere. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t swim.

It was around his hips now, and he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. All around him, the vast blue ocean reflected no light, yet remained the same constant shade of Border blue.

It dragged him down, it dragged him under.

All the while, his emotions remained distant. The danger was here, it was tangible, and yet Scott was a million miles away. He couldn’t fight. Didn’t want to.

Closing in. Closing in. Closing in, his brain echoed mockingly with his last seconds of consciousness.

***

Scott snapped awake, breathing heavily. This wasn’t the first nightmare he’d experienced since The Swap two days ago. Dammit. He scrubbed at his face with his sweaty hands.

Sleep had been hard to come by, as he’d predicted, and when he did sleep, he’d just get scared shitless by whatever his brain decided to cook up for him. He was so tired.

It was a bit of an endless loop; current events were stressing him out, preventing him from sleeping. And then the lack of sleep was stressing him out.

Basically, he was feeling a lot of stress at the moment.

He couldn’t help but sigh as he remembered his attempts at trying to work this week. He’d simply gotten into a good mood for writing some Scott The Woz gags, but then had only gone and freaked out over the thought of whether that was a sign of him slipping or literally just being inspired to write.

No more, swaps, though.

Yet, he added to himself.

He knew it was coming, it was just a matter of when. Rolling his eyes, he could easily assume that the ‘when’ was gonna be today when the guys were over—because that would just be perfect timing. It was supposed to be a ‘hope this cheers you up’ hanging-out night. Of course things were gonna go wrong tonight.

***

He had been right.

Scott glanced around the desk room from the chair he was suddenly sitting in, spying the large pile of Wii U games in front of him—were some of them covered in blood?

...He sighed. Of course he was right.

***

Scott blinked.

“Are you zoning out again?” Someone asked next to him.

Slowly, he turned and looked at the speaker.

The other man on the couch squinted back. “Oh,” he said simply.

Scott continued to stare owlishly.

He glanced down at the Wii Remote and Nunchuk he was now apparently holding.

“What?” Said another voice. A different man looked away from the TV screen and made eye contact with him.

Scott continued to not name them. These weren’t Rex and Jeb. He knew.

Not-Rex threw down the cards and the pen he’d been using and held out his hand to Scott. “Eric Turney,” he introduced himself.

Not-Jeb let out a quiet “Ohhh,” on his right.

Tentatively, Scott dropped the remote to grasp the offered hand. He paused for a potentially awkward amount of time.

“Scott Wozniak,” he finally introduced himself.

Eric gestured at Not-Jeb. “And that, there, is Sam. Sam Essig.”

Sam grinned and waved at him before offering his own hand to shake.

Scott felt a little uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he laughed nervously. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Eric shrugged. “Well, we don’t either.”

Huh. “You don’t?”

Sam relaxed into his seat. “Nope,” he popped.

“...Oh,” he felt a little bit silly now.

Scott wasn’t liking the implication that the nightmare from the other night was a little more than what he’d ended up assuming. Because apparently it wasn’t a nightmare.

“Sorry to spring this on you, but you wouldn’t happen to have any ideas about what’s causing this, would you?” Sam asked.

Vigorously, Scott shook his head. “I really don’t.”

Eric pouted. “Well there go some questions from my list.”

Scott fidgeted. “I’m kind of waiting for the bit where you explain why the laws of the universe have changed. And when they changed. ‘Cause nobody told me,” he pressed.

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Summary? Right now you’re jumping between two different realities. In this reality, you’re a character in a show. In your reality, it’s not a show; it’s real life. Does that explain everything?”

...Scott should’ve probably accepted Jerry’s offer to help him get into alcoholism.

***

“Sorry, I guess I’m just still processing the fact that I’m literally not real.”

“No—no, we didn’t say that. It doesn’t work like that. Remember—you’re only a character in this reality. In your world, you’re you and all that.”

“...F*ck.”

At this, Sam suddenly snickered. Eric shot him a look.

“What?” Scott was a little offended. They drop an informational bombshell and then they laugh at him? Ouch.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry—it’s just that... it sounds weird when you do that.”

Well, now he was just confused. “Do what?”

“You know,” Sam said. No, he didn’t. “When you bleep your swears.”

Oh. “You mean like... ‘sh*t’?”

Sam laughed again. “Yeah.”

Scott frowned. “Well... it sounds weird when you don’t bleep your swears! I’d actually say it’s pretty rude of you.”

“Anyway,” Eric cleared his throat. “We don’t know how long we have left together. We’ve explained most of the stuff, right?”

Sam thought about it, before nodding. “Yeah, I think so. We just need to mention the stuff that Scott wanted to talk about.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “No, you already answered all my questions.”

Sam winced. “No, I meant—the other Scott. Our Scott.”

Eric sighed. “I’ll figure out something for that issue later. Right now we just need to know: are you willing to accept a truce?”

Suddenly, he felt nervous. “A truce? For what? You’re not at war with fictional characters in this reality, are you?! I can’t fight!”

“NO! No. Just—Scott—OTHER Scott—just wanted to agree to not, like, have a repeat of last time. He just wants you to not trash his house.”

Scott turned bright red. “Erm. Sorry,” he stuttered.

Sam waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. That freak-out was perfectly reasonable, I’d say.”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Umm. Yeah, I can... agree to not do that.”

Eric dusted off his hands. “That was easy. Good work, negotiator Sam.”

Thoughtfully, Scott rubbed his chin. “Can you ask... Scott... some questions for me?”

Eric opened his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch, snapping his fingers. “You know, you should try sticky notes. That way, if there’s no middle man to interpret, you can still have conversations with each other. Plus you can leave emergency notes and stuff, like how Scott said you should call Eric if you needed anything,” he pointed his thumb over at the man in question.

He nodded enthusiastically. “That seems like a good idea.”

“Also! I have worked something out,” Eric announced. “How ‘bout we call you ‘Woz’ and we call the other Scott just ‘Scott’?”

...He liked the sound of that. He laughed. “I like it! It’s kinda stupid. Sure, yeah, you can call me Woz, I guess. I doubt anyone else is using Woz as a name. What kind of idiot would have Woz as a part of their name?”

For some reason he couldn’t work out, Sam and Eric shared a glance at that last bit.

Woz held out his hands for Eric and Sam to shake. “I think this could work out.”

PART 8: I SENT MARIO INTO SPACE AGAIN

Woz hangs out with the guys.

“You guys seem cool, I gotta say,” Woz confessed. “I thought it’d be really weird that you’re, like... mirror versions of my friends. But it turns out it’s only a little bit weird, instead!”

Now pretty much laying down on the couch by this point in the night, Sam laughed. “I’m sure we’re not that different from our characters, really. I don’t think Scott writes too crazy like that. Even when the writing sessions are just us hanging out and drinking.”

Woz fidgeted awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah... sorry for kinda... hijacking your night. Didn’t mean to do that.”

Eric shrugged. “Eh. Scott’s kinda hijacking your night too.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t hanging out with anyone. I was having a pretty chill night on my own.”

***

Scott tossed another Wii U game box into the ‘clean’ pile and sighed. The ‘covered in blood’ pile didn’t look like it was getting any smaller at this rate...

He snatched up another square of paper towel, wiping at the stained cases.

He better fuckin’ appreciate this. Whose blood even is this?

***

Eric grumbled as the Mario he was controlling on the TV screen fell into a black hole and died. “Well, you’re pretty cool to hang out with, so I’m not gonna complain. We hang out here pretty much all the time, but we’ve never met you before. I’m not hurt about making a new friend.”

Woz grinned widely. “Awe, that’s sweet!”

Sam chuckled. “And don’t forget you look just like our friend too. Uncanny valley all around.”

Woz hummed, reaching over to the coffee table for another handful of chips to munch on. He waggled a finger at Sam. “But, you know, I win this competition; at least you see Scott acting like-like me when he’s, uh... acting.”

Eric cracked his back. “Yeah, you win there.”

Feeling content, Woz curled himself up in the corner of the couch and sighed. “I love this game, you know.”

“That’s why we picked it,” Sam laughed, gesturing at the Super Mario Galaxy box on the table—the only game box there. “We were trying to make Scott feel better. I guess you both have the same favorite game.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the universal constant—our favorite game,” he grinned.

The other two snickered.

“Man. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this... Scott The Woz stuff...” he huffed.

Eric cracked his knuckles as he collected the Power Star and held out the Wiimote and Nunchuk to the bespectacled man. “Here—d’ya wanna go again?”

Woz’s eyes were practically gleaming with joy as he nodded, snatching the offered controller from Eric. “Would I?!” He cheered.

The wide grin refused to wipe from his face as he quickly navigated Mario around the Comet Observatory. Within seconds, he was already sending the red plumber on another space mission.

Waiting for the Wii to load, Woz scooped up his cup of water, slurping loudly from the straw he’d thrown in there. “This level is so good,” he informed Eric and Sam. “Like, I’m not even kidding. This whole game is just amazing.”

“Oh, I believe ya,” Sam hummed.

Woz gulped down another large mouthful of his drink as he saw the game starting and prepared to start playing again. Suddenly, he began to choke.

“Ah, shit,” Eric swore, thumping him on the back. “You good?”

“Guh,” the other man coughed.

Sam raised his eyebrow at him. “Did that go down the wrong pipe? Slow down. Mario isn’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Yes, hi, I’m back,” Scott wheezed.

Eric’s eyes widened. “Oh!”

Scott waved half-heartedly, throwing down the controller and using his other hand to hit his chest. “Jesus,” he croaked. “Did you tell him I could breathe water or something?”

Checking the time on his phone, Eric frowned. “You’ve been gone most of the night,” he said. “How was it over there?”

Scott slumped into his seat. “Urghhhh,” he groaned dramatically. Sam laughed. “No, seriously. He was on his own, Rex and Jeb and whoever weren’t there. Just me,” he stopped to smear his hands over his face. “And he had... I don’t even know. All the Wii U games were covered in blood. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing with his life.”

“Well you should,” Sam snorted. “Aren’t you supposed to be writing about his adventures?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Next time I gotta tell him to invite his friends over or something ‘cause I’m not doing that again. Didn’t have any to-do lists laying around, and I didn’t want to touch anything important so I just... cleaned boxes for however long it was.”

“It really just seems like these swap things are completely random,” Eric mused. “You—he was mid-drink. I dunno.”

Scott sighed deeply. “Yeah. I don’t think we’ve learned much from this.”

“Well at least we got to talk to the guy,” Sam pointed out. “He’s pretty chill. Honestly? It’s a little weird... but I already worked out why; in the videos and stuff you don’t really have downtime between jokes and stuff often? But then he does—like, he can’t cut between jokes in real life, obviously.”

Eric quickly nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I was getting that, too.”

“My brain is gonna give up soon,” Scott warned jokingly. “So, you told him about... everything? And how did he take it?”

“He actually took it pretty well. For a chatty guy, he was an avid listener, y’know?” The bearded man shrugged.

“Oh, yeah—we let Woz play on the Wii on your save file. I hope that’s okay.”

Scott spluttered. “Who—Woz? What?”

“Oh, we’ve named him Woz. So you don’t get mixed up. He liked it,” Eric smiled.

Sam barked out a laugh. “You make that sound like we’re naming a pet!”

“Aww, can we keep him, mister Samuel?”

“Sure, but you gotta take care of him, too—not just me.”

Eric fist pumped the air. “Yes!” He hissed victoriously.

Sam cackled, turning back to a bemused Scott. “So, it was fine, right?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t really care; as long as things were chill over here, I’m fine with it.”

Quietly, Sam started smirking. “You’re still salty about him breaking everything, aren’t you?”

Scott protested loudly, waving his arms. “Salty—?! He—he broke all my shit! I am reasonably upset over it!”

His friends laughed lightheartedly at the successful attempt to get a rise out of him. Scott tried to stay grumpy, but a smile threatened to twist his face. He was glad his friends were taking the whole... situation in a fairly positive way. It was really good for him to come back here and resume their joking about, after being stuck all alone in the other reality for so long.

He grabbed Woz’s cup of water, trying to hide the oncoming smile. He spat out his sip of the liquid.

“Is there salt in this water?!” He coughed.

Eric guffawed, pointing at the shorter man. “HAH—Salty!”

“I thought we were having a serious conversation...” Scott pouted, spitting.

PART 9: I’M LIVING WITH IT

Scott lives with his new curse.

Time passed slowly for Scott. Each day, each second, held the potential for him and his character to swap places. It was completely random. At first, they had theorized and tried to link the swaps to stuff like... thinking about them happening, but that theory hadn’t held up. Besides, if thinking about them had any effect, the very first one would have been much shorter, thanks to his thoughts when sitting on that couch. And wishing to go home had done nothing.

So no; they were random. Plus, the amount of time that they actually lasted varied wildly.

And then it happened. They swapped again.

And again.

It kept happening.

It was surprising how quick Scott became used to the weird, dizzy spin his brain would do when he swapped. Although, he still continued to lose his balance occasionally, especially if Woz had been mid-step. Suddenly being somewhere else was very disorientating, though—there was no doubt about that.

***

He blinked, immediately seeing Eric—Rex on the couch beside him in a Wario hat. Ah.

Jeb was whooping loudly at the basic game of Mario Party that was playing itself out on the TV screen.

Scott massaged his temple. “Why are we always playing games?” He muttered.

“What was that?” Rex queried absently.

“Uh—hi?”

“Hi!” Jeb responded cheerfully, eyes still glued to Luigi.

Rex quirked up an eyebrow back at him, confused. Scott mentally slapped himself.

“Um—not your Scott, right now,” he supplied.

A look of understanding crossed Rex’s face. “Ah,” he smiled, before suddenly frowning. “Prove it.”

He snorted. What? Prove it?

“You’ve been kickin’ my ass this entire game, how do I know this isn’t just some kind of excuse?!” He elaborated.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Uh... ‘Fuck’, I guess.”

Rex’s good mood immediately returned. “Okay. Hey Scott. We’re playin’ Mario Party.”

“I can see that.”

“You’re winning!” Jeb cheered.

“He thinks we’re playing Gex again,” Rex stage-whispered, attempting to stop Jeb from hearing this blasphemy.

Scott sighed.

***

He blinked, seeing an unfamiliar ceiling. Fortunately, the voice filtering into his ears was familiar.

“—is why I think you should just stop doin’ that,” Jerry Attricks shrugged.

Scott shook his head and opened his mouth to interrupt the ongoing therapy session.

Jerry saw this and sat up straighter, raising a hand. “Oh, no, no, no! I’m giving you advice here! And you have to listen to my therapist advice! You can’t say no!”

Raising his hands placatingly, Scott spoke quickly. “I wasn’t—I’m not denying your advice, I’m just generally shaking my head.”

Jerry crossed his arms, upset. “Rude,” he huffed.

Scott spluttered. “Let me try again—hi, I’m not your Scott.”

He puffed some air out of his nose. “There has gotta be a better way for me to introduce myself...”

“Oh!” Jerry exclaimed, hovering his pen over his clipboard.

He paused for an uncomfortably long period of time. Scott stayed quiet.

“Well,” he finally said. “Is there anything you need therapy for?”

Scott groaned, throwing his head back. “This,” he muttered.

***

Scott’s heart jumped as he accidentally swerved the car at the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ!” He swore, getting both the vehicle and his heart rate back under control. He looked around, quickly getting his bearings, and checked his mirrors. A solo drive.

He glanced at the pitch black outside.

A solo nighttime drive.

He fiddled with the radio, switching off the video game OSTs playlist playing from the phone plugged into it and tried to find out where he was even going. The GPS was guiding him to some retro games store in Michigan.

...In the middle of the night?

In Michigan.

Scott couldn’t believe this. First, he almost got into a car accident and now he had to drive to Michigan on his own? Great.

“Almost caused a fuckin’ accident,” he grumbled.

***

The sandwich in his hand paused halfway to his mouth. Instantly, Scott felt frustrated. He inspected the sandwich. A perfectly crafted PB&J. One side superbly spread to the edges with peanut butter and the other lathered evenly with jelly. A sandwich made with passion. The paper towel in his other hand was clean of any crumbs. He looked around the room.

The kitchen was dark, and every other room in the house seemed dark, too. Only one light was on in here, illuminating what was clearly some kind of late-night snack. He frowned. Scott had just had his own snack at home, happily making his way through a bowl of frozen grapes. So mentally, he wasn’t really interested in another meal. His stomach growled. Suddenly, he felt hungry, like his mind had just updated.

Well, I don’t want a sandwich. But Woz does, he thought, taking a bite.

He laughed. So much love was put into making this sandwich of all things... but Woz wasn’t even gonna be able to enjoy it.

***

Woz startled, staring wide-eyed at the bag of bread in his hand. He glanced around, seeing the baked goods aisle of a store and an abundance of other people shuffling through with their carts and baskets. He bit his lip worriedly, looking back at the bread.

An idea sparking into his brain, he patted himself down for any kind of shopping list, finding a sticky note and pen crumpled into his jacket pocket. Scott’s handwriting was scrawled over the scrappy paper.

He smiled smugly.

Easy peasy.

He tossed the bread into the basket by his foot, ignoring the fact that Scott had already placed multiple bags in there.

Gee, who needs that much bread... Woz pondered obliviously, peering at his list and strutting over to the fridges.

***

Crunching popcorn sounded out through the room alongside gentle music. Woz squinted at the screen that his eyes were already pointing at, reading the subtitles.

‘He who loves the most regrets the most. Let’s not live in a fantasy.’

He frowned, glancing around and seeing Rex—No, Eric, Sam... uhh... Justin? And the other one... oh—Dominic. Yeah, Dominic. —Seeing them all sitting on the couch and on the floor, watching this movie. He leaned over to Justin.

“Hey,” he hissed, catching his attention. “What movie are we watching?”

Justin frowned before his expression morphed into understanding. “‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’. It’s really good. Have you seen it?” He whispered back, now also catching Dominic’s attention.

“What’s the problem?” Dominic asked quietly from his spot on the floor in front of Woz.

Justin glanced over at Woz expectantly, and caught his eye. Immediately, Woz jumped up. “Hey all, Scott here!” He announced loudly.

Sam and Eric shushed him. “C’mon, not now...” Sam complained.

“Movie night,” Dominic explained simply to Woz.

“Ohhhh!” He nodded, smiling. He stopped. “So can you quickly pause it and just catch me up on everything that’s happened up to now?”

Sam looked at how little of the movie was left and pinched his nose bridge.

***

Getting pretty tired of this, Woz thought, staring back at yet another stranger sitting across from him. No one he recognised, this time. They were sitting at this little table together, tucked away in the corner of a pretty cozy-looking restaurant. The theme seemed to be some kind of Italian place, if he was reading the decorations right.

“Scott?” The woman across from him asked. “Is something wrong?”

He flushed red instantly. If his guess was correct, this was very embarrassing. “Uhm—I—um—you see—” He stuttered.

He grabbed his glass, playing with the condensation to try and hide how awkward he was feeling while he tried to work out what to say.

The woman chuckled. “What is it?” She smiled, absently adjusting her glasses.

Woz froze, looking like a deer in headlights, before hesitantly stretching out his hand. “Woz,” he squeaked out.

An expression flickered behind the woman’s eyes, but she shook her head and smiled gently, accepting the offered hand to shake. “Kate,” she introduced herself gently.

Woz apologized profusely, quickly snatching his hand back so that he could worriedly mash his digits together. “I am so sorry—I do NOT want to be here... that is to say—well, not because of you—well, yes because of you, but not like that—”

She waved her hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not upset.”

Woz sighed in ultimate relief. “Oh, thank God. I promise I will leave as fast as I can.”

A waiter arrived, depositing two plates of pasta in front of the pair with a simple “Enjoy your meal.”

Woz’s eyes widened at the spaghetti in front of him. He glanced quickly at the fork beside the plate before slowly moving his bare hand towards the food.

“No!” Kate scolded, trying not to laugh at his antics. “We’re in a restaurant,” she reminded him.

Woz grinned sheepishly and picked up his silverware. He blinked.

Scott looked down at the food in front of him. “That got here fast,” he commented dryly.

Kate laughed. “What a weird guy,” she grinned. “A weird, endearing guy.”

“Let me guess,” he twirled his spaghetti on a spoon. “‘No fork spaghetti’?”

They both laughed together.

***

Scott breathed in fresh air, getting blinded by sunlight. He snapped a hand up to shade his eyes, registering the sight of asphalt below his feet. He’d stumbled and stopped walking.

The handles of a heavy plastic bag dug into his fingers and a quick inspection revealed a decent haul of cheesy retro game merch.

He felt really tired—the sudden switch from his body with a full night of rest to one that clearly had not had the same was a little off-putting.

He shook his head, trying to chase away the brain fog and find out where he was supposed to be walking to.

Scott’s eyes widened in panic as he was met with the sight of oncoming traffic.

It all stopped.

PART 10: I’M DYING WITH IT

Scott wakes up.

Ringing. It was all he could hear. It didn’t stop, echoing relentlessly through his skull. Through his entire being.

White was all he could see. Could he even see? There was nothing. He kept hearing the ringing.

Then.

Silence.

It all came back to him. The white faded, the edges of his vision blurring. Snippets of noise being caught by his ears, but not being processed by his brain. He didn’t know what to think. He let it all fade to black. He was tired.

***

Scott woke up. No sluggishness. He was just suddenly awake, eyes squinting up at a blurred, gray ceiling. Swallowing thickly, he tried to move, tried to sit up, but froze at the weird feeling. Practically gagging at the itchiness he could now feel all over himself, he attempted to look around.

Hospital.

It was a hospital.

He didn’t need his glasses to be able to tell that those curtains were the cliché decorations of a sterile hospital environment.

Shuffling footsteps came from beyond the door of the small room. Talking and footsteps.

As Scott looked around the room one last time, he spied the blue edge to his vision. The Border. He felt faint at the revelation.

With a soft click, the door swung open. A man and a woman in white coats strolled in. The man, holding a clipboard, looked his way and paused only for a moment, seemingly not too surprised to see his patient awake.

“Good morning, Mr. Wozniak,” he greeted politely.

Scott cringed. Once again... wrong Scott.

Right?

Because the last thing he remembered was—

“I know you might have some questions. Feel free to ask them, we’ll try and answer.”

He inspected the clipboard at the end of the bed as the woman crossed the room to investigate a box in the corner.

“I don’t—” He stuttered. His throat felt raw and his voice was rough. He winced.

“Here,” the woman suddenly appeared beside him, holding out his spectacles to him, allowing Scott to gratefully accept them.

The man with the clipboard snatched a pen from his breast pocket and twirled it between his fingers. “I’m Doctor Bones. This is Doctor Urse,” he introduced, gesturing between him and his colleague.

Scott quickly hid the smile that twitched onto his face at their names.

A glass of water was pushed into his hands. He drank quickly and the doctors waited for him.

Scott cleared his throat. “So...” he prepared to ask the dreaded question. “What happened?”

“You died,” Dr. Bones shrugged as if it was nothing, jotting idly on the clipboard.

His heart caught in his throat. He’d suspected it... but he didn’t think—

Bones hummed and frowned, interrupting his train of thought. “You had a very fast recovery. Have you died before?”

Scott felt almost giddy. He felt like he should laugh and cry and sob and cackle. He held his tongue. His eye twitched.

“No,” he croaked out. He wasn’t sure what answer to give. Was that the right choice to say no? He was pretty sure Woz had died before... especially recently for the Sonic 3D Blast episode. Scott hoped that death wasn’t something that affected your future medical history, here.

He frowned at that mental sentence.

“We just need to check all your bandages and stuff, and then you’re free to go. Well, if you want to go, of course,” Dr. Urse laughed. “I wouldn’t blame you for staying. There’s so many vending machines. And this free room is pretty great. Um, not that it’s actually free. You will need to pay.”

Scott quickly tried to remember if he’d made any jokes in Scott The Woz before about insurance for dying, promising to apologize to Woz later when he could.

“Well, if you’re up to it, your friends are here to see you... they’ve been waiting here since you woke up briefly this morning. We can sort out any paperwork at a later date, especially since you’re here today because of a death. Trauma and all that.”

Scott let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Oh, thank God.

***

The door practically flew off his hinges.

“WHAT’S UP, PARTY PEOPLE?!” Rex cheered. Terry scowled and elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Scott laughed—wincing slightly at the pain in his chest—at the sight of the guys filing into the room.

“Hey Scott! How are you feeling?” It was Target Employee, immediately darting to his bedside in concern.

“Uh—I’m good, I’m good. Just a little sore. And, uh, itchy.”

“Dude, show us your bandages and casts or whatever. I wanna see,” Rex joined Target’s side.

“Hey, give him some space. The man just died,” Terry reminded them gently.

Scott waved off his concern. “Nah, it’s fine,” he paused for a moment, watching Doctor Bones in the doorway, waiting for him to leave so that he could talk to the guys properly.

Bones nodded, satisfied, and left the room. Scott let out a sigh of relief. “Um, actually—there’s a bit of a problem.”

Target frowned. “Did they diagnose you with more cancer?”

“More—? No—uh. No they did not.”

Rex opened his mouth to speak, raising a finger as if waiting to be picked on by a teacher. Terry cut him off.

“You’re the other Scott, right?” He guessed.

Scott nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Scott!” Target gasped, suddenly darting back. “What are you doing here?!”

Awkwardly, Scott rubbed his eyes. “Uh, well I never left, actually.”

Terry quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well I remember—” He swallowed, shaking his head. “I remember dying. I remember that. And then, um, I just woke up here.”

The three visitors shared a look with each other.

Terry’s eyes bored into him. “Well, I hate to break it to ya, but the car accident was three days ago.”

PART 11: I’M KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

Scott hears the bad news. Woz is bored.

Woz stumbled as he found himself suddenly not in his own reality. The man shook his head, annoyed. He’d been really looking forward to talking about the junky merch he’d found at that yard sale. Looked like he was gonna have to wait a while.

He hoped that Scott could work out that he was just walking to the car. He’d only parked across the street.

***

“...Can you repeat that?” Scott faltered.

Terry and the Employee exchanged a worried glance.

Target grabbed his hand. Scott didn’t know when he’d gotten so tense.

“You got into that accident three days ago,” Target said softly. “You’ve been here this whole time and you were unconscious. They were a little worried about it but you were healing well.”

Rex chewed on his lip in concern. “Sorry we had to break it to ya like that.”

Scott leaned back slowly, sinking into the fluffed pillows, processing. “I just... I haven’t been back since it all happened. Does that mean that... Woz has been over there for three days?”

Target patted his hand, attempting to bring him some comfort. “I’m sure that he knows what he’s doing. You both leave each other notes now, right?”

Scott nodded.

“Yeah. And you’ve got your friends there too, right? I don’t think there’s anything to worry about right now. You’ll get home when you get home, and worrying about it is just gonna do ya no good,” he paused for a moment. “You still can’t control it, yeah? So no use in worrying over it; that’s what I say,” Target smiled, happy with his little speech.

Scott sighed. He couldn’t deny that the Employee was good at being reassuring.

I should know that, already. I wrote ‘Big Scott Comfort Moment’...

However, Scott couldn’t help the anxiety that still bubbled in his brain. They’d only been swapped for a single night max before now. Three days? He hoped this wasn’t a sign that it was permanent.

Terry fiddled with the frames of his glasses. “Let’s just get ya out of here. You’ll be better off somewhere more familiar.”

The trio helped Scott to his feet. His joints felt stiff from the lack of use, the thick bandages awkwardly hugged his torso and the hospital gown was just plain embarrassing. Scott hated the cold brushing his arms while Rex and Terry blinked at the exposed tattoo.

Once they were sure that Scott wasn’t going to immediately fall over, Target grabbed the pile of spare clothes that Doctor Urse had left behind before she had taken her leave and tossed them to Scott. Terry was on standby, ready to hand over the cane the doctors were leaving him.

He couldn’t help but smile. How lucky he was, to have friends that he could count on. Whether it was in this universe or another.

***

Tapping his foot, Woz once again glanced at the clock. It’d been about ten hours now. He was impatient and slightly annoyed—why was it that the one time he had something important he wanted to get back to, it was hours that he had to wait to swap back?!

He groaned dramatically, flopping back in the office chair and letting himself roll away from the computer.

Upon arriving and realizing that he was alone, he had checked Scott’s notes app on his phone to see if there was anything he could do. He’d skipped past the boring chores like vacuuming and doing the laundry to get to the good bits... unfortunately, he’d found out that Scott hadn’t written anything about any games stuff needing to be organized this time. That was upsetting.

Moodily, he had yanked the vacuum cleaner from the closet. It’d taken him about an hour to make his way around the entire house, and yet he was still here. Awkward.

Next, he’d done all the laundry. He’d even ironed some of it. Still here.

The counters were dusted.

That box full of recycling in the corner was thrown out.

All the controllers were plugged in and charging.

Then he’d stopped for dinner. He pouted as he got his special bag of frozen chicken nuggets from the freezer... Scott had been very adamant about his decision when he’d immediately banned him from using most of the kitchen. He glared at the big letters written in Sharpie on the side of the bag—‘WOZ!! These are for you. – Love, Scott’.

While he ate, he scrolled through Scott’s phone. Not for the first time, he considered tweeting something funny on his account, but changed his mind with his thumb hovering over the tweet button. He giggled as he thought about liking some tweets from random fans instead.

Meal finished, he tossed his plate into the dishwasher.

...Still here.

Woz had made it to the bottom of the to-do list, where Scott had written ‘LAST RESORT ONLY!!’. It was even underlined!

So here he was. Seated in front of the Mac.

If he had to be honest, seeing all the stuff for Scott The Woz made him feel a little nauseous... he wasn’t entirely sure why—but he could hazard a guess.

Unfortunately, the editing work was still a little foreign to him. Scott had suggested he watch some of his videos to get a feel for the style, but he hadn’t gotten ‘round to it yet. He much preferred the ‘Scott’s Stash’ type of content, and had said as such to Scott. Apparently, it was fine for him to do either.

Briefly, he tried to help with a script—another idea from Scott, who claimed that his ‘fun sense of humor’ would be appreciated, if he felt like he could add a joke or two.

And now he had tried watching about fifteen minutes of footage of Scott talking in front of his weird carpet camera before he had given up from boredom. The memory of Jerry’s voice telling him he might have an attention span problem passed through his brain.

What was taking so long?!

***

Scott had suffered through the entire drive back home to his place. The air in the car had felt unusually awkward. He was aware this was the first time he had officially met Terry, despite his numerous swaps before now. And Target Employee kept glancing at him weirdly, for some reason. But even Rex’s too-enthusiastic car karaoke wasn’t breaking how tense it was in here.

He breathed a sigh of relief, once the car door was slammed shut and the guys had driven away. Terry had fussed that he needed to be monitored, but Scott argued that he’d already had three days of monitoring at the hospital.

Honestly, he wasn’t actually sure on how he should properly deal with the aftercare for this hospital trip. He didn’t know shit about dying! And fucking recovering from dying!

Jesus Christ. He’d died. That was real. It was so real.

At least he didn’t have to worry about the car, since Rex had already taken it back here for him. And Target said that he and Jeb had kept an eye on the house.

Scott scowled. Well, they wouldn’t have to worry about these things for him if somebody had even a lick of common sense to understand that jaywalking was NOT a good idea on a semi-busy main road.

He’d died.

By the time he’d slowly gotten ready for the evening, he was still in the wrong body.

PART 12: I THINK SOMETHING IS WRONG OVER THERE

Woz texts. CW// Suicide mention

When the world had slowly swam into focus and he’d woken up properly, Woz had felt concerned.

Because he was still. here.

Why was he still here?!

Frantically, he grabbed Scott’s phone from the side table to check the time. It was 9am.

Twenty hours.

It had been twenty hours since he got here.

He pulled at his hair stressfully. Had he done something that was preventing the swap back? Surely not... right? What could he have done? Nothing, right? RIGHT?!

Woz was already dialing Eric’s number.

“Hmm, yes? What’s up?” Eric asked absently. It sounded like he was busy, from the clattering on the other end of the line.

“Hey all, Scott here! I think something is really wrong right now!”

The clattering stopped. “Oh, hey Scozz. What’s the problem? You’re not hurt, are ya?” Concern began to lace his voice.

“No, no I’m not,” he shook his head, despite the fact that Eric couldn’t see him. “It’s just that... well, it’s been a while since I got here and there’s no sign of me goin’ back yet. I think something is wrong! What if I’m stuck here?!”

“Whoah, calm down. How long has it been?”

“Twenty hours! I got here yesterday around 1, went to go sleep at 11 but I’ve just woken up and I’m still here! What the f*ck do I do?!”

“Oh, shit, that’s not good... what’s the longest it’s been before?”

“No longer than a night. What if something’s happened?! You said this was all caused by the head injury, right? What if it’s... healed or something while we’re in the wrong places? And now I’m stuck!”

Woz was aware that his breathing was getting heavier and that he was asking a lot of questions that poor Eric probably did not have the answers for.

“Okay—well—the head injury thing is still mostly just a theory, so try not to worry about that. Uhh... shit, I’m not sure about what’s causing this. I think we should turn this into a group discussion... again. Can you switch to texting?”

“Ummm...” Woz hesitated. He always preferred talking on the phone.

“Do you know how? I can walk you through it,” the other man offered.

“No, I can—I think I can figure it out,” he reassured.

“Alright, talk to you soon.”

He hung up.

---

Scott Wozniak, Sam Essig, Eric Turney

Today 9:05 AM

Scott Wozniak: Hey all, Scott here.

Sam Essig: Hey Woz

Scott Wozniak: I think that there is a problem.

Scott Wozniak: I have already briefly spoken to Eric about it, as Scott told me to.

Sam Essig: What’s up?

Scott Wozniak: 20 hours since last swap!

Scott Wozniak: Freaking out a little!!

Sam Essig: Oh I see

Sam Essig: Um do you feel weird at all?

Scott Wozniak: No.

Eric Turney: So IS there anything you’ve done that you don’t usually do?

Scott Wozniak: No. So I’m concerned.

Sam Essig: Was there anything different

Sam Essig: Before you left

Scott Wozniak: No, I was just crossing the road to get to my car.

Eric Turney: Oh duck

Eric Turney: Fuck

Scott Wozniak: ??

Sam Essig: Oh

Scott Wozniak: ???

Scott Wozniak: Making me nervous, here.

Eric Turney: CROSSING THE ROAD

Eric Turney: MID SWAP

Sam Essig: Was it busy when you were crossing??

Scott Wozniak: No, I don’t think so?

Eric Turney: Okay okay not dangerous then

Eric Turney: Jesus I was worried there for a second

Scott Wozniak: But I thought people usually say jaywalking is dangerous?

Sam Essig: I’m gonna faint

Eric Turney: Jaywalking

Scott Wozniak: I am missing something please tell me.

Sam Essig: I think you killed Scott

---

Woz blinked at the phone screen.

Killed Scott...?

How—

Oh. Cars. Right.

So... if Scott had gotten into a car accident because of him, then that meant...

---

Scott Wozniak, Sam Essig, Eric Turney

Today 9:09 AM

Scott Wozniak: DID I KILL MYSELF?!

Eric Turney: Oh my god

Scott Wozniak: DOES THAT COUNT AS SUICIDE

Sam Essig: Sorry this is just a lot to take in right now

Scott Wozniak: I DON’T THINK YOU CAN COME BACK FROM SUICIDE

Scott Wozniak: MOST PEOPLE DON’T

Eric Turney: Come back?

Eric Turney: WAIT

Sam Essig: COME BACK

Sam Essig: Come back to life

Scott Wozniak: Yes oh my God I’m so sorry I can’t believe I’ve done this.

Eric Turney: NO NO. COME BACK

Eric Turney: I’m Scott The Woz people can come back to life

Eric Turney: In

Scott Wozniak: Yeah I guess. But like I said... maybe not this time.

Scott Wozniak: I’m sorry

Sam Essig: NO because this isn’t suicide

Sam Essig: It’s alright

Sam Essig: Oh thank God

Sam Essig: So he’s alright?

Eric Turney: I think he’s alright

Scott Wozniak: I don’t understand.

Eric Turney: Woz calm down, OK? We both don’t think it counts. Which means he can come back

Eric Turney: Is that right?

Scott Wozniak: It doesn’t count? Oh.

Scott Wozniak: Oh he might be fine then.

Scott Wozniak: I am sorry for scaring you

Sam Essig: It’s okay you didn’t know

Eric Turney: Keep waiting around in case anything happens

Eric Turney: I’ll come by after work

Sam Essig: Same I’ll be there later

Scott Wozniak: OK. Thank you both.

---

Heart still stuttering, he collapsed back into the pillows on the bed. Almost all of his hair was standing upright from the constant worried hand-combing. So, Scott was probably in trouble—maybe dead, maybe not, maybe recovering—and he was here until then, with no line of communication to the other reality.

Woz let out a sigh that turned into a whine. Why had they not figured out a way to communicate between realities yet? If there even was a way?

He felt like that conversation had taken years off his life.

He winced. Poor phrasing.

PART 13: I’M BEING PATIENT

Woz spends his time wisely.

Without much other choice, Woz dragged himself out of bed and towards the bathroom. Although it’d been a relatively long time since the first swap (and what he’d done then), he still felt slightly awkward about taking over Scott’s place. Yeah, he’d woken up as Scott once before now, although that time he’d gone to sleep as himself. So, not quite like this occasion.

He just didn’t feel like he belonged here at all. He was so out of his depth. And he couldn’t imagine that Scott felt the same way; since he was Scott’s character, Scott would obviously be more familiar with his life than he was with Scott’s.

Each time a new name or an inside joke got brought up, he truly felt like an intruder here. It kinda hurt.

Scrubbing idly at his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror, watching his movements intently. Woz slowly inspected himself blinking and winking. He smoothed his hair back. Readjusted his glasses. Scratched at his peach fuzz.

He cringed. He hated this.

Aggressively, he spat into the sink, breaking the staring contest with his reflection.

He had to get busy; he hated this thinking-and-being-serious stuff.

***

A thorough scan of the basement didn’t give him many ideas, surprisingly. At first, he was just going to sit and pass the time by playing a game—simple, easy, no problems there.

Fingers wrapped around the box for God of War: Ragnarok and already halfway pulling it off the shelf, he stopped. What if Scott had a save file he didn’t want to be messed with? Did he have plans to use any of these games for footage?

He put the box back. No games, then. Plus, he’d already organized and cleaned yesterday.

...I guess I could... try some work again.

Video editing for Scott was still a little awkward to him, but it was either that or sitting in silence for who knows how long. Woz knew what option he’d rather pick.

Maybe he could make something from scratch? That way, he wouldn’t feel weird about jumping on Scott’s work.

Wait. He’d seen something not that long ago... where was it...

Quickly, he searched around, grinning when he found the container of JoyCon accessories.

Clutching the box for the battery charger packs, he hurried to the carpet filming setup thing.

He could talk about these.

***

Idly, he sipped a Capri-Sun and clicked around Final Cut Pro, wrapping up his short video—although... five minutes was still a lot when he had to keep referencing Scott’s pre-existing Stash videos. ‘Cause he just had to match the style... boring. At least he was already familiar with the whole video-editing process, thanks to his own video projects he’d made—nothing like these YouTube videos, though.

Honestly, this was pretty chill. Making his own thing was definitely the right call. Surely Scott wouldn’t even mind at all—he could put this video on his YouTube channel or whatever and he wouldn’t even have to do any work, since Woz had already done all the editing.

He grinned, feeling much better now that he had a sense of... purpose? Still feeling out of place, sure; he didn’t think he’d be able to shake that. But here he was feeling pretty useful. Like a good friend, rather than a burden. That was what he wanted.

The now cheerful man rummaged around for some paper and a pen, intending on writing a little note for Scott. Something nicer than just a notes app kind of note.

Sticking his tongue out, he scribbled his message.

‘I made a video for you! I’m putting it in that folder with your other projects stuff. You’ll find it. I hope. Well, I talked about those funny JoyCon battery packs, not sure if you were planning on talking about them yourself at some point, but snooze ya lose or whatever. I’ve really tried with the editing so no criticism please.’

He paused, tapping the pen on his chin. It was missing something...

‘—Love from Woz’

He smirked. Take that, vaguely snarky message on the chicken nuggets bag.

No, it was still missing something...

The man spied that blank space at the top of the paper.

...He knew what to write.

‘Dear Big Bro Scott,’

Now it was perfect.

He continued slurping his Capri-Sun, feeling very happy with himself. Making the best of a bad situation—this was great!

***

Day 1 ended averagely. Another night of chicken nuggets and phone scrolling. He went to bed.

Day 2 passed by pretty much the same way. He woke up, he worked, he slept. Dull.

He’d been messaging back and forth with Sam and Eric and the other guys during his time here. Updates on his status every few hours turned into every other hour and then became hourly. People were getting antsy.

Everyone tried to keep a positive outlook, but by the third day, the possibility that this was permanent was looming prominently over their heads. Still, Woz kept his hopes up. Ever since he’d received the encouragement from Eric and Sam the other day, he’d held on to that gut feeling that Scott was alright.

Something told him that their theory was right—he’d accidentally gotten Scott into an accident and so they couldn’t swap at the moment. Right? Because he was recovering. Yeah.

He was getting pretty tired of this waiting game, though.

And now he’d run out of milk. Cliché.

It wasn’t on the to-do list, but then again—how could Scott have predicted it’d be days before he’d get the chance to restock his fridge? Plus, he was getting a little stir crazy in here; might as well do the other guy a favor.

He winced as he slammed the car door a little too hard. Oops.

Woz yawned widely, cracking his back in the barren Walmart parking lot. Early on a weekday, of course it was quiet.

The tired man shambled into the store, gazing around at the signs with droopy eyelids. Milk, milk, milk... where was the milk...

Spotting his prize, he scampered over. Mission complete. Now all he had to do was pay—he didn’t really feel like stealing anything this morning.

Cradling his milk jug, he spun on his heel, ready to head to checkout, but was stopped.

“Scott?”

Startled, he looked around. Ghosts...? In Walmart? Well, he’d heard a rumor before, but then when he’d tried to investigate together with Jerry they’d just—

“Scott! Oh, it is you!”

He chased the train of thought out of his head and finally spotted the speaker. He gawked awkwardly. The guy in front of him didn’t look familiar at all, but he was clearly restraining a smile. Maybe they were cousins or something.

“Um. Hi,” he tried.

The other guy seemed to be vibrating where he was standing. Finally, his grin broke free. “Oh my God. Sorry I’m totally, like... interrupting you right now,” his eyes darted down at the milk jug. “But I just wanted—could I, like—you don’t mind photos, do you?” He stuttered.

Woz raised an eyebrow. Photos?

“Do I know you?” He burst out.

The stranger laughed awkwardly. “Uh—I—uh, probably not! I, uhh, I couldn’t make it to TMG last year.”

...Tee-Em-Gee? What?

Before he could ask any more questions, the guy was fumbling his phone from his hoodie pocket.

“I’m gonna, like, put it on my Reddit and Twitter and Instagram, if that’s okay?”

Woz was definitely not keeping up with this conversation. He should probably say that to this guy.

Oh, nevermind, he was already flipping his camera around.

The bespectacled man stared back at himself in the preview as the guy next to him moved into frame, still grinning broadly.

He didn’t try to smile, keeping the same bewildered look on his face. He was still holding his milk.

Faster than he could register, the phone was no longer in his face and the stranger was inspecting the final image.

Woz blinked again. He was just not—what was this?

“Oh my God,” the other guy said, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much! Oh my God,” he said again.

He clutched at his phone in one hand, stimming with the other. “I can’t believe I met Scott The Woz in Walmart... this is crazy.”

Oh. That was it. Right. He shoulda guessed. Okay.

“You’re... welcome?” He hesitated.

The fan paused for a moment, biting his lip. “I don’t suppose... could I get an autograph?”

Woz blinked asymmetrically. “No...” he said slowly.

The fan seemed disappointed, but understanding. “That’s okay. Thanks for the photo! Oh, I almost forgot...” he hurriedly flicked through his camera roll, searching for something. “Ah! Here!”

The phone was shoved in his face. Woz squinted to make it out. It was a photo of this person... cosplaying? The all-denim look with the rainbow hat and tie-dye shirt was definitely a fashion statement, that was for sure.

The fan flushed red. “Erm, sorry. I just—sorry. I made this really awkward, didn’t I?” He chuckled nervously. “Sorry! I’ll leave you be, now. It was awesome meeting you!”

Before he could even ask for the guy’s name, he was already scurrying away, embarrassed. Woz felt a little bad. A Scott The Woz fan, right? He hadn’t meant to embarrass them...

Oh well. He had milk to buy.

Each time a new name or an inside joke got brought up, he truly felt like an intruder here. It kinda hurt.

He cringed. He hated this.

Aggressively, he spat into the sink, breaking the staring contest with his reflection.

He had to get busy; he hated this thinking-and-being-serious stuff.

***

A thorough scan of the basement didn’t give him many ideas, surprisingly. At first, he was just going to sit and pass the time by playing a game—simple, easy, no problems there.

He put the box back. No games, then. Plus, he’d already organized and cleaned yesterday.

...I guess I could... try some work again.

Video editing for Scott was still a little awkward to him, but it was either that or sitting in silence for who knows how long. Woz knew what option he’d rather pick.

Maybe he could make something from scratch? That way, he wouldn’t feel weird about jumping on Scott’s work.

Wait. He’d seen something not that long ago... where was it...

Quickly, he searched around, grinning when he found the container of JoyCon accessories.

Clutching the box for the battery charger packs, he hurried to the carpet filming setup thing.

He could talk about these.

***

The now cheerful man rummaged around for some paper and a pen, intending on writing a little note for Scott. Something nicer than just a notes app kind of note.

Sticking his tongue out, he scribbled his message.

He paused, tapping the pen on his chin. It was missing something...

‘—Love from Woz’

He smirked. Take that, vaguely snarky message on the chicken nuggets bag.

No, it was still missing something...

The man spied that blank space at the top of the paper.

...He knew what to write.

‘Dear Big Bro Scott,’

Now it was perfect.

He continued slurping his Capri-Sun, feeling very happy with himself. Making the best of a bad situation—this was great!

***

Day 1 ended averagely. Another night of chicken nuggets and phone scrolling. He went to bed.

Day 2 passed by pretty much the same way. He woke up, he worked, he slept. Dull.

Something told him that their theory was right—he’d accidentally gotten Scott into an accident and so they couldn’t swap at the moment. Right? Because he was recovering. Yeah.

He was getting pretty tired of this waiting game, though.

And now he’d run out of milk. Cliché.

He winced as he slammed the car door a little too hard. Oops.

Woz yawned widely, cracking his back in the barren Walmart parking lot. Early on a weekday, of course it was quiet.

The tired man shambled into the store, gazing around at the signs with droopy eyelids. Milk, milk, milk... where was the milk...

Spotting his prize, he scampered over. Mission complete. Now all he had to do was pay—he didn’t really feel like stealing anything this morning.

Cradling his milk jug, he spun on his heel, ready to head to checkout, but was stopped.

“Scott?”

Startled, he looked around. Ghosts...? In Walmart? Well, he’d heard a rumor before, but then when he’d tried to investigate together with Jerry they’d just—

“Scott! Oh, it is you!”

“Um. Hi,” he tried.

Woz raised an eyebrow. Photos?

“Do I know you?” He burst out.

The stranger laughed awkwardly. “Uh—I—uh, probably not! I, uhh, I couldn’t make it to TMG last year.”

...Tee-Em-Gee? What?

Before he could ask any more questions, the guy was fumbling his phone from his hoodie pocket.

“I’m gonna, like, put it on my Reddit and Twitter and Instagram, if that’s okay?”

Woz was definitely not keeping up with this conversation. He should probably say that to this guy.

Oh, nevermind, he was already flipping his camera around.

The bespectacled man stared back at himself in the preview as the guy next to him moved into frame, still grinning broadly.

He didn’t try to smile, keeping the same bewildered look on his face. He was still holding his milk.

Faster than he could register, the phone was no longer in his face and the stranger was inspecting the final image.

Woz blinked again. He was just not—what was this?

“Oh my God,” the other guy said, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much! Oh my God,” he said again.

He clutched at his phone in one hand, stimming with the other. “I can’t believe I met Scott The Woz in Walmart... this is crazy.”

Oh. That was it. Right. He shoulda guessed. Okay.

“You’re... welcome?” He hesitated.

The fan paused for a moment, biting his lip. “I don’t suppose... could I get an autograph?”

Woz blinked asymmetrically. “No...” he said slowly.

The fan flushed red. “Erm, sorry. I just—sorry. I made this really awkward, didn’t I?” He chuckled nervously. “Sorry! I’ll leave you be, now. It was awesome meeting you!”

Before he could even ask for the guy’s name, he was already scurrying away, embarrassed. Woz felt a little bad. A Scott The Woz fan, right? He hadn’t meant to embarrass them...

Oh well. He had milk to buy.

PART 14: I HAD A VISIT

Terry visits Scott.

Scott was absolutely miserable. The worst night of sleep he thought he’d ever had. Half of the night had been spent staring at the ceiling and thinking about seeing wheels coming at him. The other half had been spent in a restless slumber that left him tangled up in his blankets when he finally woke up at 6am.

He stumbled out of bed, almost forgetting his cane, and hobbled to the bathroom. The skin under his eyes was dark gray, almost bruised-looking. He was so damn tired.

Yawning, he eyed the rest of his—Woz’s—his—Woz’s??—HIS face. Looked like his cheeks were also becoming a little gray; he needed a shave.

Normally, it wouldn’t have been so much of a task, but he was so fatigued. It took about 15 minutes to get himself cleaned up, and by that point he felt like going straight back to bed.

He did.

Wearily, he tumbled back onto the mattress, his shaky legs only just managing to take him to the bedroom before they gave up, even with the walking cane’s assistance.

Scott felt useless. Sure, it’d been a pretty sleepless night but he felt completely worn out right now.

From the bedside table, Woz’s phone pinged.

Two minutes passed before Scott felt like dragging himself close enough to grab it. Limply, his hand fell onto the device and slid it towards himself. Squinting, he read the screen—a new message. From Terry!

Cocking his head, Scott opened up the message to read it. He hadn’t talked much to Terry yet.

---

Terry Lesler

Today 7:16 AM

Terry Lesler: hey. still Scott? let me know

---

Scott smiled at the absurdity of his life right now, responding with a simple ‘Yup’. He hoped it conveyed how pissed he still was at the situation.

---

Terry Lesler: alright. coming over with something

Terry Lesler: i’ll open the door, dont worry

Terry Lesler: stay where you are

---

Scott laughed. It seemed like Terry Lesler was determined to make good on his promise to take care of him. While Scott had initially not been interested in the help, he could now admit that the thought of some assistance seemed quite appealing. He wondered what Terry would be bringing with him.

He smirked. Something vegan, yeah?

Scott did as he was asked, continuing to sit in bed and scroll lazily through not-his phone until Terry appeared.

He was in the middle of frowning at an album dedicated to photos of a Nintendo shrine when he heard the door unlocking downstairs, Terry letting himself in, as promised.

“Upstairs,” he called out, wincing at the voice crack.

Straining his ears for footsteps, he heard nothing. Suddenly, the door swung open, startling him.

“Hey,” Terry said simply, shoving one hand in a jeans pocket.

“Uh, hi,” Scott replied, now feeling awkward. He didn’t have a chair for Terry to sit down on. Thankfully, Terry seemed happy standing.

The vegan nodded once before making a tutting sound. “Sit up properly. You’re not doin’ your ribs any favors, there.”

Scott complied quickly, still wincing at the soreness of his muscles. Terry stayed quiet as he slowly propped himself up. Not much of a talker, was he?

“Uhm—what did you wanna bring with you?” He tried to cut the silence.

Terry smiled a small smile and brandished the plastic bowl container that was in his other hand. “Got some pumpkin soup for ya. Is that alright?”

Scott burst out a laugh, before explaining himself quickly. “Sorry, it’s just that—I should’ve expected that.”

That smile turned into a smirk. “Oh, yeah?” Terry challenged. “Am I predictable, Scott?”

Chuckling in reply, Scott waved his hand. “Alright, alright...”

Terry peeled the lid off the container, inspecting the steam coming from inside. “Don’t need to warm this up,” he commented, delivering the soup and a spoon to the bedridden Scott.

Scott took it gratefully, and finally scooted over so that Terry could sit down and chat.

“So, how are you?” Terry asked bluntly. Scott gave him a deadpan look as he scooped up his first taste of the soup.

“I know, I’m just askin’,” Terry defended himself. “Thought you’d be feeling more talkative.”

Scott snorted. As if he hadn’t just thought of Terry being not-so talkative.

“Sorry, I’m just not really... good at this conversation right now. I guess?”

“Is it because I’m a character to you?”

“I—” Scott hesitated, flushing bright red and trying to pick the right words. The vegan had really hit the nail on the head, there. On his first try, too. Maybe he should be the therapist.

“No, I get it. I understand.”

Scott waited, expecting more, but Terry just looked at him.

He returned the look with a small smile, which he covered up with another spoon of soup.

Terry nodded, satisfied. “Have you gotten out of bed yet?” He queried.

Scott swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Went to the bathroom and then came straight back here. Barely even made it, it was awful,” he scowled. “Can’t even walk, like, twelve feet. Even with the cane.”

Terry frowned. “Well, you did just die.”

Scott spluttered. “Well, I don’t really know how to recover from death, if you hadn’t noticed.”

The other man raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Scott gave him the most exasperated look he could muster.

The vegan shook his head, absently checking his watch. “Well, recovery takes a while, alright? Ya gotta be patient with it. Bones don’t grow back in a day, y’know?”

“Growing back bones?!” Scott yelped.

Terry held up his hands. “An expression,” he clarified. “What I mean is—take some time to rest, okay? Life can wait while you take it easy. And you can call me for anything and I’ll come help ya out, hm?”

Scott nodded, smiling, and scraped at his bowl. “Thanks for the soup,” he mumbled.

“Finish that off, I gotta get goin’. Do you need anything before I head out?”

“No, no—you get going if you got places to be, man,” Scott assured. “I’m alright here. I’ll be going downstairs soon, but I’ll be careful and use the cane and all that.”

Satisfied, the vegan once again nodded his head. “Alright,” he said simply. “I’ll see ya later, Scott.”

He stood, walked over to the door and left without another word. Scott heard the front door closing and locking.

Interesting guy, Scott mused. He looked down at the bowl of soup, which he’d already almost finished.

A pretty mean cook, though.

***

Scott spent another hour or so lazing around, but soon he was feeling restless, as he’d expected. If Doctor Lesler said he had to sit still, he’d rather be doing his sitting still at his computer where he could do some work.

Well, he would do some work if his editing computer wasn’t currently a reality away.

Alright, sure, the brief visit from Terry had cheered him up. But he was determined to stay moody at everything, no matter what.

And speaking of bad moods, he was ready to get real mad at a certain set of steps.

Scott dragged himself from the bed, snatching up the cane he’d left on the floor, and finally wrenched open the curtains in the room so that he could squint outside. He wasn’t sure why he was expecting something out of the ordinary.

He trudged into the hall, already glaring at the staircase. Maybe he could just slide down on his ass—using the cane was gonna be a bitch. At least he wasn’t wearing socks.

The bespectacled man grabbed the railing, preparing to lower himself to sit down on the top step.

Suddenly, he was in his kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon in the other.

The bowl shattered on the floor.

PART 15: I HATE THE NEW NORMAL

Scott is overwhelmed.

Shards of ceramic bounced off his socked feet and the spoon hit the floor with a deafening sound.

When his knees collided with the ground, it didn’t register; the emotions buzzing in his brain drowned out everything. Even the feeling of milk soaking into his sweatpants.

Scott had barely realized that he’d spent the last few days with the sense that his mind was two steps to the left of his body. It felt like something had finally clicked into place in his brain. Like he’d remembered something he’d long forgotten.

Once again he was crying—on the floor and crying.

No, it wasn’t me last time. It was him.

He was finally fucking home. He couldn’t believe it.

Scott continued to sob over the thought of being able to talk to his friends and his family again. To let them know he was okay.

It had crossed his mind—the thought of being stuck over there permanently; forced to be replaced by a literal character that he himself had created.

What would his family have thought? When he showed up to the next Wozniak gathering and he was acting like he’d gotten hit around the head a few too many times?

And his friends? Would they have replaced him? Or cast him away from their lives once his counterpart had missed a few too many inside jokes?

His friends. Oh God. What did they think had happened to him? Scott had been gone for so long. Surely they had noticed his absence.

Right?

Peeling himself from the remains of an abandoned breakfast, he hurriedly patted himself down for his phone and swiped urgently at the screen.

He already had a message waiting for him. From Eric.

‘Everything alright today?’

Seeing his opening, he set a new world record for the fastest time to FaceTime someone. When he saw Eric’s tired eyes appear on his screen, he couldn’t help himself from shedding new tears.

He was emotionally fragile right now, okay?! Sue him.

“Whoah, Woz, are you okay? Talk to me,” Eric soothed.

Scott smiled tearfully. “No, it’s Scott,” he sobbed.

Eric’s face broke out into a broad grin, the concern vanishing from his expression. “Scott! Holy shit. Welcome back, dude.”

Scott laughed weakly and nodded, scrubbing at his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah I’m really back.”

“What the fuck happened?” Eric asked, his concern reappearing as fast as it had left.

Scott combed through his hair, breathing aggressively through his running nose. “You won’t believe the amount of bullshit I have been through. Oh my God.”

“What happened?” Eric asked again.

“I fucking died, man,” he choked.

A million thoughts crossed through Eric’s eyes in front of him. Scott hoped that the visible state of himself dissuaded the other man from asking ‘are you alright’.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted. “What the fuck?”

Scott hummed. “I know. I know. I just can’t—it’s so fucked,” he let out a shaky breath, his fingers firmly entwined in his hair and gripping his skull. “I just have no way to process all this.”

“I’m sorry I can’t say anything to help you out here.”

“No, no—don’t feel like that. ‘Cause, like... what can ya say?” He shook his head.

Eric glanced away. “Do you... need to talk about it? Can you talk about it? Or are we just leavin’ this in the past?”

Scott sighed deeply. “I can tell you but it’s probably not gonna do it justice, y’know? It’s... hard, I guess. I don’t think people are supposed to know what death is... actually like.”

The dark and the cold and the ringing—

An icy shiver ran down his spine. “But yeah. I think talking about it will do me some good. That is—talking to someone who won’t just act like it’s normal. And I... I really need you to tell me what happened here first. Please.”

Eric nodded reassuringly and spoke softly. “Of course I can do catch-up. Don’t worry about it, man.”

Scott sniffled, showing off a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

His friend sat back, scratching at his curly bangs while he tried to think. “Alright... what have you missed...” he asked rhetorically. He clicked his fingers. “Okay, so it started when Woz called me...”

***

Warmth filled the air of the restaurant. Chattering, clinking glasses. Some music he couldn’t put a name to. All background noise.

Scott was seated in a small, scuffed booth. The varnish on the table flaked and he could count each ring on the surface from where countless drinks had stained it.

Not alone, of course. He tried to tune back into the conversation that Sam and Justin were having.

It wasn’t like he was trying to lose track of what was being said. He was just having trouble focusing on their small world at this little table when it seemed like his skull was stuffed with his cotton and he could feel his heart pumping.

“Welcome home, buddy,” Justin had said. And then suddenly he was being swept away in the car to go out to eat someplace to celebrate. Sam had jokingly threatened to tell the staff that it was his birthday. Scott had twitched.

He was trying to enjoy himself—he really was. It was just hard to feel at all happy about this night out when he was so emotionally spent from his return home that morning. And that’s not even considering the amount of stress he’d had on his plate since the second he’d woken up at the hospital. Plus all the other months of stress leading up to now.

And so he let the other two carry the conversation, content to just listen and get this over with.

Oh look, they were talking about Woz again.

“—called me at, like, 12am ‘cause he said the landline phone wasn’t working,” Sam laughed. “I had to explain that it wasn’t supposed to work.”

“Well I’m glad you guys had fun with him, I guess...” he mumbled, swirling his beer.

“Aw, dude, don’t be like that,” Justin said, noticing his friend’s sour mood.

Scott flinched and suddenly he was standing up. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he rushed out, before fleeing the table.

Stupid Scott, stupid Scott. What’s your problem?! He asked himself angrily.

Slamming the bathroom door behind him, he stormed over to the sink and mirror and began splashing water at himself. The sensation of the cold water covering his face was aggravating his already hostile mood, but he was hoping it would help him with getting through the rest of this night.

Like an annoying insect, the thought of ‘what if I swapped right now’ fluttered into his head. He slammed his palms against his face.

Why the fuck was this his life now?! Why was this the status quo?! Why couldn’t things just go back to normal?!

PART 16: I LIKE TO DWELL ON IT

Scott thinks again.

Scott returned to the table sullenly, throwing himself past Sam’s knees and back into his seat. Sam and Justin shared a glance.

Oh, right. They had probably talked about him while he was gone.

He saw Sam open his mouth.

“It’s whatever,” he cut him off. “Let’s just... go back to chatting and then we can get this over with and then I can go home and you don’t have to see me.”

“Now, hold on,” Justin started. “What’s up? How can we help you out here?”

Scott scratched absently at the table with his finger. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“Well, no, it’s not nothing, ‘cause it’s clearly bothering you,” Sam pointed out.

Scott scowled and stared down at the surface in front of him, as if it had personally offended him. “I appreciate it, guys, but I’m just not in the mood. Can we drop it?” He replied tersely, taking a large drink from his beer glass.

His friends shared another look.

“Okay,” Justin said slowly. “But we’re gonna come back to it later, alright?”

Scott grunted.

“We can help out, you know,” Sam pressed.

“Later,” Scott snapped before clamming up.

The background noise of the restaurant faded back in. A couple in the booth behind them laughed loudly. They’d been in their own bubble for a minute, there.

Sam and Justin continued to catch each other’s eyes in concern. How could they help Scott? It was unusual to see him act this way—so defensive and snappy. But at least he seemed open to talking eventually—maybe he just needed some time to himself for now?

Awkwardly, they tried to return to the light smalltalk. But they both knew it was over once Justin had brought up the weather, wincing immediately after.

At the end of the uncomfortable night out, the three all went their separate ways to home having not talked about it at all.

***

He curled himself up beneath the tartan blanket on the couch in the basement, absently watching YouTube on the TV. Some documentary or whatever—he wasn’t really paying attention. It was just there to fill the silence.

I need to apologize to them, he thought, worming his way further under the blanket.

They already know something’s up. I’m just making things worse.

He was getting a headache. He hadn’t missed these. Weird how he’d stopped getting them after he and Woz had first swapped—before that it had been near constant. Unfortunately, ‘I have a headache’ wasn’t really a good excuse for his actions at the restaurant.

It wasn’t the guys’ fault that he felt like shit. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure himself why he felt this way. They’d just wanted to celebrate his safe return home. They’d even downsized it to just the three of them—to not overwhelm him. But he’d still ruined it.

For once, he didn’t feel like spending his free time working on making a new video. Seeing that JoyCon battery pack project on his computer had left a sour taste in his mouth earlier in the day as he’d properly rendered the final video and scheduled it for upload on the 12th.

The 12th... seemed important. What was he forgetting...? Oh! The school visit. He’d signed up for that stupid careers day talk thing at his old high school, hadn’t he? Damnit—he’d completely forgotten. Well, Scott had committed to it, and if he quit now, he’d ruin it for Justin and Jeff, too. Better not be a coward, then, and get his shit together before next week.

How fast would he get in trouble if he told the kids that he’d died and come back to life since their principal had invited him to the school? Or that the character he’d almost certainly end up talking about was haunting him a little closer than he’d like to admit?

Crazy that it had been almost three months now since that first swap had happened. Sure, he’d gotten used to the feeling of it—how could he not have? He’d been through it so many times now—but he still didn’t think that he’d be able to get over the thought of it.

There was just so much on his plate that he didn’t even want on there in the first place. Scott sighed. He hadn’t even gotten Season 7 started yet. But he was managing. Just about.

Jesus—he’d been dealing with a... ‘supernatural’ incident for ages now, and it was only just starting to make him snap—that seemed like a pretty good showcase of ‘managing’ skills in his book.

Still, so many people didn’t know what Scott had been going through all this time. And it’s not like he could go out there and admit it, anyway. Like Eric had so wisely said, it’d probably get the US Government on his ass if they found out he had this weird dimension-hopping superpower. He’d seen enough movies to know that.

At least he wasn’t getting paranoid. If that was the case, Scott would probably have assumed that the info had leaked and there was a sleek, black car driven by a guy with sunglasses and a headset on its way to pick him up right now.

Alright. Best course of action at the moment? Deal with it. Keep on truckin’ on, as they say. Maybe talk about his problems soon. Keep livin’ life. The sooner the line between ‘this is crazy fiction’ and ‘this is real life’ got blurred, the better for him.

That sounded like a plan.

Who cared if the status quo had been uprooted in January? It was time to make a new status quo.

Fuck it. Maybe he should go to Too Many Games this year.

PART 17: I’M INTO AIRLINE FOOD

The guys go on a plane.

“Yes, I’m aware of that possibility,” Scott sighed.

“Good,” Eric grunted as he hauled his suitcase into the back of Scott’s car. “We don’t know if he’s, like, even been on a plane before. Don’t want him freaking out or anythin’.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Well, I did ask. Not my fault we haven’t swapped in ages. Typical,” he muttered the last part to himself.

“Not blaming you, don’t worry. It’s just inconvenient, that’s all.”

“Yeah...” Scott grumbled.

“It’s basically guaranteed to happen at the worst time,” the other man added, as they both climbed into the car.

“Really filling me with hope and joy, there, buddy.”

Eric smirked. “Maybe he goes apeshit and attacks a cosplayer.”

Scott massaged his nose bridge with a smile. “Shut the fuck up.”

***

Eric leaned against the car, vaping, while Scott squinted at his phone. “I thought they said they were here already?”

Eric shrugged. “The signal’s shit—they could be anywhere.”

On cue, the pair heard their names being called from across the street. They looked up and saw the others they’d been waiting for, waving at them.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Dominic yelled from the front of the huddle. “We’re gonna be late!”

Scott and Eric glanced at each other before slinging their backpacks on and pulling up the handles of their suitcases.

“I’m glad you actually packed like a normal person this time,” Scott told Eric over the thunder of the wheels on the ground. “Got your wireless charger?” He joked.

Eric laughed loudly, presenting three wireless phone chargers from his pants pocket. “I’m prepared.”

As they approached, Sam saw the chargers and groaned dramatically. “Not this guy again. Hey, what’s the fastest way to have security take him away?”

“You know the answer to that,” Joe smiled.

“He’d find some way to escape the security,” Justin pointed out.

Eric puffed out his chest proudly. “You know me,” he announced proudly.

Dominic looked at everyone in the group. “Please don’t make terrorist threats at the airport,” he pleaded.

***

By the time the group had scurried onto the plane, Scott felt like he was gonna have to spend the entire flight taking a nap.

“It’s an hour and a half flight,” Joe pointed out after hearing about his plan.

“That’s why it’s called a nap, Joe.”

The other rolled his eyes before taking a look out the plane window.

“I feel like we’ve forgotten something...” Dominic worried from the seat behind him.

Across the aisle, Sam punched Eric in the arm. “Put the fucking chargers away!” He laughed.

“But I neeeed them for my phooooone...” Eric whined.

“No you fucking don’t!”

Scott laughed and turned around to talk to Dominic. “Well, if you left your phone charger, Eric’s got you covered.”

“No I don’t! These are mine!”

Justin raised an eyebrow and leaned over Dominic to see what Eric was doing. “Does he really have three this time...?”

Thankfully, they were interrupted by the flight safety announcements. Scott was pretty sure Sam and Eric were joking around now, but he wasn’t one-hundred percent certain whether or not an hour and a half of sitting next to each other was enough for Sam to excuse killing the other. Hopefully they stayed peaceful.

As soon as he was able to, Scott clicked his seatbelt off and got comfortable. Well—as comfortable as he could.

Yawning widely, he settled into a doze and let the ambiance of the plane wash over him and slowly fade away for a while.

The second he snapped awake and saw that he was no longer on a plane, he sighed.

***

“PSST! PSST! PSST!” Woz hissed at the man sitting next to him. “PSSSSSSTTT!”

“What? What?” He grumbled, removing his headphones and looking away from his phone.

“Where are we going? Also, who are you?” He laughed. “I should’ve asked that second one first I think...”

The man sighed and leaned around to talk to the seats behind him. “Hey. Dom. It happened,” he said.

Dom? Oh! Dominic! He knew Dominic. Which meant...

“Ah! Joe!” He grinned. “I didn’t recognise ya. Did’ja change your hair color?”

Joe glanced at his hair—the same brown it had always been. “No.”

“Oh...” he said sadly. Woz snapped his fingers. “New teeth?” He guessed again.

“Go back to sleep, man.”

“Fine. Some people, I swear...” he grumbled.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, spotting that his friend had woken up.

“Hi Sam!” Woz waved cheerfully. “Hi Eric!” he waved again, seeing the curly-bearded man also look over.

“Heyyy, is that Woz?” Justin asked from next to Dominic.

“Hey all, Scott here! Whoah, it’s been a little while. How have you all been?! Who wants to hear what I’ve been up to?”

If it was possible, his grin grew wider.

Eric checked how much more of the flight was left. “Sure. Please kill the next twenty minutes—I am so bored.”

***

Almost exactly fifteen minutes later, Scott returned, tensed and gripping tightly to his seat. He loosened up, frowned and glanced at Joe beside him, who was staring wide eyed. He looked to his left, seeing Sam and Eric also staring over at him.

“Uhh...?” He questioned.

“Oh, thank God,” Joe sighed, relaxing. “I told him ‘it’s just turbulence’ but I’m pretty sure he was gonna start screaming again.”

“Screaming?” Scott asked, disappointed. “Come on...”

Dominic leaned forwards. “I’m pretty sure Joe slapped him.”

Scott sent Joe a glare, who raised his hands defensively.

“Well... it’s happened now, right?” Sam pointed out, lowering his voice and leaning further into the aisle. “So it won’t happen again?” His tone was fairly hopeful.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Again with the jinxing things, guys...”

PART 18: I HAD LUNCH

The guys enjoy Philadelphia.

Scott’d be one of the first to admit that walking and wandering around while also using up most of your focus on a phone was probably not the smartest idea in the world, and yet here he was.

Sam grabbed his arm to pull him out of the way of a woman with a small dog on a leash—who he definitely would have walked into. She glared at him as she passed.

He looked back at Sam and smiled sheepishly.

Dominic peered over his shoulder at the screen. “Did you get your connection back yet?”

“Yes... but...” he trailed off, scrolling around the map helplessly. “Argh—I’ve lost it. Are you sure you don’t remember the name of the place?”

“Nah,” Justin shrugged. “All I knew is that it was around here. We can always go somewhere else.”

Scott sighed. They’d been wandering around looking for this place to have lunch for ages now. No luck.

“Well if he can’t remember then we might as well just find somewhere on Google we can go. Or just keep lookin’ around,” Joe suggested.

Eric strolled up to give his opinion. “Saw a sandwich place a block over. Sandwiches were good for lunch last time.”

“I wanted to try something different, though...” Scott complained. “Fine. Let me look around, then. What are we feeling?”

“Is burgers good enough?” Dominic asked. “There’s gotta be a lot of burger places around here—lots to choose from.”

Scott had to admit that burgers sounded pretty good for lunch. And they’d already spent long enough waiting for food.

***

The guy at the tiny burger eatery seemed a little concerned when his entire store was taken up by a huddle of six white guys strolling in.

“Uh... whaddya fellas want?” He flicked out a little notepad and tapped at the handwritten chalk menu behind him with his pen. “Anythin’ from here. And we only got the four seats in, I’m afraid. Gotta takeout.”

“Uh, that’s fine,” Scott waved him off, already thinking if he’d seen anywhere earlier on Google Maps that they could sit down. “Who’s going first?” He asked the others.

Hopefully the wait for a homemade patty would be worth it.

***

The group groaned in relief as they finally found a relatively quiet place with a short wall to sit down on to eat. Scott sighed as he fished the wrapped food from his backpack—thankfully it was still warm.

Together they sat and talked and ate, passing around the bag of serrated fries.

“Honestly better than I was expecting,” Sam admitted.

Justin and Scott both nodded.

“Cheap too. Well—cheap for burgers and also a tourist center and also in this day and age,” Eric pointed out.

“Is that your Yelp review?” Scott asked.

“At least it’s not raining,” Justin shrugged.

Dominic hummed. “How often does it rain around here, anyway?”

Joe pulled out his phone to check.

Suddenly, Scott’s world began to spin. He swore.

“Everything alright?” Eric asked him.

“No,” the other man grumbled, looking around in confusion. “Where are we now? I’m pretty sure this isn’t Toledo. But I dunno. Have we left Ohio?”

“Philadelphia,” Eric ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, shit—Scott was our navigator.”

Woz perked up. “Well, that just makes this an adventure now, right?”

“Not when we’ve already been on the edge of being lost all day,” Dominic complained.

Justin took another nonchalant bite from his burger. “Well we can still use a map on our own phones, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Sam frowned. “That makes two times now,” he mumbled.

Woz butted in. “‘Two times’ what? I like three!”

“Two times you’ve swapped,” Sam elaborated. “And I think Scott would rather it stay at two. We have to be prepared for the convention.”

“A convention!” Woz’s eyes widened. “So that’s what that note was about... What for?”

Eric laughed. “Us, if you wanna feel like bragging. But really—it’s a gaming con, we’re guests. We’ve got a panel and stuff.”

“It’s tomorrow,” Joe added.

Woz blinked. “What? Did you guys make... like, a game... or something?”

“It’s for Scott The Woz,” Sam said.

Woz let out a dramatic ‘Ohhhh,’.

“I really should have guessed that. Well... no, actually—I don’t think I would’ve been able to guess that,” He jumped up. “That’s so cool, though!”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, it is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“So you guys really are famous, huh?”

Justin laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say that...”

Woz scoffed. “Well you’ve been invited to be guests at a gaming convention. That makes you famous in my book. They don’t just let anyone walk on a stage at those things. I would know.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Lemme guess—you tried hijacking some convention speech thing?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?”

“Your wistful slash nostalgic tone of voice and also just because that’s something you’d do.”

Woz smiled sheepishly. “Ah—well—you got me there...”

***

After lunch, the group decided to continue walking around for a while. They had the day to waste in the city, and then tomorrow they’d have to head over to the Philadelphia Expo Center for Too Many Games. Woz stuck around.

Joe questioned his childlike wonder over every little thing that they saw, but Woz defended himself, stating that he ‘didn’t get out much’. Joe countered that he’d break his neck if he kept spinning in circles and looking up to see the tops of the buildings.

Thankfully, it was only an hour before Scott made his reappearance. He yawned and together the guys decided it’d probably be best to head back to the hotel—they’d been out all afternoon at this point.

Scott considered the day as he brushed his teeth in his room. It felt like time had just passed so quickly today. Or maybe that was just the swap interrupting. Who knows. He always felt kinda bad when a swap interrupted something fun... why was he forced to sit quietly in Woz’s basement doing nothing important while he got to hang out and have fun every time?

Whatever. He was tired.

Right now it was that classic balance of ‘it’s too early to sleep’ and ‘I’m pretty tired.’ Maybe he’d compromise and write for thirty minutes or something and hit the hay.

PART 19: I’M AN UNDERCOVER CELEBRITY

Time to go.

Eric knocked at Scott’s door, scratching absently at the back of his neck and scrubbing under his eye with a thumb. “Scott? We’re headin’ for breakfast if you’re comin’.”

It was quiet in there. He sighed.

Eric had to admit, he was starting to feel a little worried about Scott. Sure, he could constantly reassure them that everything was fine and dandy and that there was no need to be concerned about a thing—yeah, right.

But he’d seen the grimaces and the scowling at the air. That man could not hide an expression if he tried.

It was weird, though. It had seemed like he and Woz had started to warm up to each other. Of course, they’d had a rocky start (obviously) but it had genuinely seemed like they were beginning to get along. But then Scott had started being all moody again. Eric just wasn’t sure what it was. He winced. Or maybe Scott’s taste of death had probably killed whatever friendship they had been starting.

He’d also kind of been banking on the cure to his funky behavior just being this nice trip. Everyone hanging out and having some fun—take his mind off things, get a change of scenery.

Maybe he just had a different perspective on the whole situation because he’d met and talked to both Scotts—meanwhile, Scott and Woz couldn’t talk face to face. And there was only so much actual conversing you could do via scribbly sticky notes.

Well, he definitely wasn’t gonna bring up anything now, he didn’t wanna kill any remaining good mood that Scott had left. He’d have to wait until they were back home.

He heard movement from behind the door. It clicked open. Scott’s tired face peered out at him, squinting heavily.

Eric quirked an eyebrow. “Have you tried wearing your glasses?”

Scott’s expression pinched together. “That’s a good idea, actually.”

His voice was rough. Eric checked his watch. “Have you only just woken up? I thought you went to sleep early?”

He scanned Scott. His hair was standing up like he’d been electrocuted. The hoodie he was wearing was backwards, there was a ketchup stain on the knee of his jeans and one of his socks was definitely inside out.

“Yes and I did,” Scott cleared his throat. “I slept through the alarm...?” He raised the pitch of his voice into a question.

Eric peered at the man in front of him. Something was off...

He shot out a finger to point at him. “What’s up with you?” He asked bluntly.

Scott sagged over in defeat and sighed. He snapped upright. “Hey all, Scott here,” he sighed deeply. “I don’t really wanna be here today.”

Eric puffed out a breath. “Right. Okay.” He should’ve guessed. “Why were you trying to hide it?”

“I dunno... I’m just kinda tired right now...” Woz mumbled. He fidgeted with his hands. “I would rather just be at home and... I thought if I acted like him, I’d... y’know...” he coughed. “Do I have to come to breakfast?”

Eric rubbed at his arm. “Well I know I said ‘if you’re coming’ but we’re actually going to the convention right after breakfast and it’s gonna be a pretty long day. Sorry.”

Woz pouted and looked at him with big, sad, eyes. “Alright...” he kicked at the carpet. He suddenly jumped up. “Wait! The convention! What are we gonna do?!”

Eric frowned. “About what?”

Woz waved his arms around. “You know! About the convention! And me!”

“I’m not following ya.”

He made a frustrated noise. “I can’t... act like Scott!” He hissed.

“You can’t? I don’t think it’ll be that hard to convince people.”

“I couldn’t even fool you! Literally one minute ago!”

Eric smirked. “Yeah, well I actually know you. ‘BigGamer37’ who wants to ask what your favorite color is, doesn’t. Get what I mean?”

Woz massaged his eyes with his fingers and spun in a circle. “Arghh—fine! Fine. I can do it. Maybe. No promises!”

Eric clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine, man. Trust me. Don’t overthink it. ‘Sides, you might even swap back before we get there.”

“...And if I do mess things up...?”

Eric’s expression softened. “We’re not gonna get mad at you if you answer a question wrong or something,” he reassured. “And they aren’t gonna arrest ya and send you away if you slip up.”

“Well, you never know...” Woz murmured. “Alright. Let’s go. Do I need to bring stuff?”

“Scott should already have a backpack ready, I dunno where he left it, though.”

Woz snapped his fingers and quickly vanished to retrieve the bag. Eric waited in the hallway for him, rocking on his heels. If they didn’t swap back in time, they’d have to take Woz around Too Many Games with them. That was fine. They could do that.

Woz reappeared, stepping out of the room and slamming the door behind him. He’d fixed himself up, no longer looking as disheveled. “Let’s roll,” he nodded once, seriously.

Eric looked at him. “Glasses,” he reminded.

The other man laughed. “Oh, right. I can’t see anything,” he grinned. He produced his glasses from seemingly nowhere and snapped them onto his face.

The serious expression suddenly returned. “Now let’s roll.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I will say nothing at all. I have learnt my lesson about jinxing things.”

“What?” Woz tilted his head, walking with a literal spring in his step.

“It doesn’t matter. C’mon, everyone’s waiting in Justin’s room. I was just supposed to collect ya.”

***

The group walked across the convention floor, weaving past people who were wheeling around the last bits and pieces of their stalls. Woz thumbed the straps of his bag nervously. He was already sweating when they’d collected their badges. The lanyard swung around his neck in a distracting way.

It was bustling and loud, and the convention hadn’t even opened properly yet.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Woz announced.

Sam turned to him, concerned. “Uh. Please don’t.”

Woz thought about this, humming. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

“If you have the choice to not do it, can’t you just... keep not doing?” Justin asked.

“Enough with the questions! I don’t tell you how to live your life,” Woz complained.

“We’re on our way to a Q&A panel,” Joe reminded him. “Questions. And answers.”

Woz pouted.

“At least you’re prepared for it,” Sam pointed out. “Imagine if you’d swapped now instead of this morning and we hadn’t had the chance to work it all out.”

“I’m still nervous... I haven’t talked to so many people like this before...”

Dominic nudged his shoulder. “Hey, don’t sweat it. You’ll do great!”

“Can’t one of you guys be the leader?”

“You know that’s not how it works,” Eric said.

Woz spied the stage, eyeing the tables and water bottles and microphones. He laughed nervously. “Yeah...”

He followed the rest of the group behind a set of banners and around the back of a large curtain, where there was a fold-out table and a line of chairs set up.

“O, glamorous backstage,” Eric sing-songed.

“How long do we have to wait?” Sam asked, checking the time. “We got here pretty early.”

“It’s about half an hour,” Joe told him and turned to Woz. “Are you gonna be alright waiting back here until then?”

He considered the question before nodding. “I think so. I will continue to try and not throw up.”

“That’s the spirit,” Justin reassured. “I’m goin’ out there, then. See you guys later.”

Woz sprung towards him nervously. “Whoa! Where are you going?”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Uh. To buy stuff, dude. It’s a convention,” he shrugged and left.

Woz drummed his fingers together. “You’re not all going, right? Cause... I don’t think I can stand to be out there but I also don’t wanna be here on my own and—”

Sam held up his hands. “Hey, chill. Let Justin do his thing. I’m not really interested in getting anything right now; thirty minutes is not enough time for a browse. I’m hangin’ around, don’t worry.”

Woz flapped his hands anxiously. “I’ve made up my mind. I am NOT ready for this. Oh my God—how am I gonna sit here and be this nervous for thirty minutes?!”

“Breathe, breathe!” Eric told him. “Listen, just—be yourself! Trust me. It’ll be fine!”

Woz’s face drooped with the force of the pout currently plastered on his face. “Be myself? But what happened to being like Scott?”

Eric waved him off. “We never meant, like, you had to perfectly imitate him. We just meant, don’t do any... I dunno. Don’t do any zany shit, don’t swear, you know—acting regular.”

“...Zany sh*t?”

Eric rolled his hands, thinking. “Uhh...”

“Cartoon stuff!” Dominic supplied. “Stuff like that.”

“Are you implying he’s gonna do some Wile E. Coyote-ing up on stage or somethin’?” Eric laughed.

Joe nodded. “What’s it called? A hammerspace? That seems like something he’d do.”

Woz shook his head in confusion. “What? I have no idea what you guys are talking about right now. ‘Hammerspace’?”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, like this.” He mimed reaching behind his back and pulling out a baseball bat, before pretending to swing it at Sam, who dodged away.

“Please don’t actually hit me while you’re miming.”

Woz’s eyes sparkled. “Oh! Like this!”

He reached behind his back and actually produced a large, inflatable hammer. He grinned and threw it at Eric. It bounced off him and floated towards Joe, who caught it.

Eric blinked. “Uh. Yeah, like that. Wait—you did that this morning! With your glasses,” he pointed at him.

“Uh, yeah. Are you seriously telling me that you can’t do that?” He looked disgusted, like there was something wrong with them.

Dominic stared at the hammer. “No. Uh, no we can’t.”

Sam snatched the hammer from Joe and hit Eric with it. “I think it’s just stupid enough to make sense,” he announced.

Eric grabbed for the hammer, but Sam weaved out of the way. Woz dove forwards and grabbed it himself, smirking.

“So... what you’re saying is... I can’t do THIS on stage?” He skipped around and hit all four of them around the heads, knocking off Eric’s hat.

“Hey!” He grinned, taking it from Woz. He attempted to retaliate, but Woz skittered around like a bug and dived behind Joe, letting him take the hit.

The group laughed at Joe’s disgruntled expression. “Real mature, guys,” he rolled his eyes, the smallest smile appearing on his face.

Woz reclaimed his hammer and showed off his most smug grin. “Imagine not having a... ‘hammerspace’. Couldn’t be me!” He sang.

His brain started to spin. “Whoah!” He stumbled.

Sam grabbed his arm to stop him from falling.

Scott regained balance and stared at them all. He looked down at the inflatable hammer, saw Dominic, Joe and Eric staring at him and spotted Sam’s concerned expression and the hand on his arm.

“Uh...” he droned. “The fuck’s going on?”

PART 20: I ANSWERED

The Q&A.

Scott kicked his feet absently under the table, squinting against the stage lights as Joe rattled off another prepared answer about his personal life into the microphone, lightheartedly shrugging at all the right moments.

Something nudged his foot. He glanced over to his right, subtly. Eric, next to him and at the end of their table, was staring at him. When he spotted that Scott had looked over, he tilted his head.

Not understanding, Scott raised an eyebrow.

Eric shifted and paused for a moment, thinking. He moved his hands so that Scott could see them behind the table and gestured, spinning his fingers around.

Oh—! ‘Have you swapped?’

Scott shook his head no and moved his shoulders in the slightest of shrugs. A frown lightly creased Eric’s brow, but he responded with a thumbs up.

Scott turned his attention back to the panel. Oops—he’d missed what Joe had been saying and now the role of question-answer-er had moved on to Dominic. He hoped no one was paying too much attention to him and Eric getting distracted.

He wrapped his hands around the water bottle in front of him, tensed up. Squeezing absently at the plastic, he worried his lip. Why was he feeling so anxious?

His question was answered in the form of a brain spin.

Woz straightened up, eyes blown wide. Any more tense, and he’d snap a tendon. Eric noticed his sudden change in attitude and kicked him. Startled, Woz looked over. Eric nodded encouragingly.

Woz just shook his head slowly, making Eric quirk an eyebrow.

“But you were fine before, backstage,” the other man whispered. “We were laughing and joking around—”

“Well, yes! And then I swapped back! And I immediately lost all the confidence I’d built up because I didn’t need it anymore!” He rushed out, voice low.

Eric drummed his fingers on the table nervously.

Dominic selected another member of the audience that had their hand raised.

The fan jumped up excitedly. “Can Joe do another backflip?”

Joe rolled his eyes in response, leaning in to the mic.

Woz frowned. He couldn’t remember any characters called Joe. “Who’s Joe?” He whispered, glancing between Sam and Eric beside him.

Immediately, Eric’s face broke out into the most devilish smirk. Sam sent him a withering look before making eye contact with Woz. He jerked his head to the side, at the other table. Woz glanced over.

“Oh!” He whispered. “The actual guy. I just thought it was another... character...”

Eric cleared his throat, fighting off a laugh.

From the end of the other table, Justin leaned forwards slightly, attempting to look over at them, trying to communicate with only twitching eyebrows. He seemed concerned.

Another audience member was picked out.

“Have you ever considered any character relationships?”

Oh no. This was one for Scott to answer, wasn’t it? And he was Scott. The guys looked over at him expectantly. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry.

You were confident before. You can do this, Scott. You can do this.

“Relationships? Well I’m pretty sure Terry and Jeb got divorced...” he paused to think, not noticing the wide-eyed looks he was receiving from the seats next to him. “Me an’ him are dating...” he gestured his thumb absently towards Dominic, who jumped and stared past Sam at him, mouth agape.

He felt a pain in his side. Surprised, he turned to see that he’d been hit by Sam. Looking up, Woz saw the looks on all of their faces, and the bated breath of the room full of people.

Oh, he realized.

“Um. Not me and him. Me and—me and Target. Ha ha. Ha,” he ‘laughed’ dryly. Oh no he was slipping up—he was ruining things—

“C-committed to his job, right? Who says he can’t, uh, can’t be committed to a relationship?”

The crowd laughed. The sound was grating, his heart pounded harder. The joke had landed and yet it did nothing to restore any confidence to him.

Sweat dripped down his back and he smiled nervously. Sam jostled him in the shoulder, which stirred him into action—he’d been quiet too long. He stood, willing his jelly legs to stay stable. Shakily, he clutched at the microphone and cleared his throat. Shielding his face against the light, he peered into the audience, trying to ignore the sheer number of hungry eyes that were boring into him right now.

A chasm swirled in the pit of his stomach as he raised his trembling hand to point at someone random. He blinked past the splotches in his vision. He didn’t care who it was—he just wanted it to be over.

“Uh—you,” he coughed out.

By some luck, his finger had landed on just one person. Good—he didn’t think he could look hard enough into the crowd at the moment to work out some clarifying details before he’d be forced to spill his breakfast.

He collapsed back into his seat as a staff member descended upon the audience, armed with a microphone.

“What was it like cleaning up after filming Memory Cards?” They asked.

Woz frowned. “Filming what—?”

Eric jabbed him sharply with his elbow. “Dude, it was the halloween special,” he hissed.

Woz jolted. “Halloween special?! You’ve been making specials about my life—?!” He was speaking way too loudly and too close to the microphone.

Sam jabbed him with his own elbow. “Guys—come on—they’re watching us whisper...”

“Okay, okay... it was, uhhh... the one where Wendy’s Employee died.”

“YOU WATCHED WEND—? OW! Stop elbowing me!”

Wendy’s Employee’s brutal death... a mere halloween special?! He shook the thought away.

“Alright, alright! Uh... Wendy’s Employee’s death...” he trailed off. The audience stared at him.

He turned back to face the vague direction of the person who’d asked the question.

“Yeah, cleaning up the body afterwards was a little messy. I didn’t have an ambulance coupon so we had to drag the body into Rex’s car—”

Sam’s hand connected with his skull, clipping him around the head and silencing him. Woz massaged the soon-to-be-bruised spot, upset.

“Dude—shut the fuck up! We’re at a panel and you’re talking about dead bodies,” Sam hissed urgently.

Woz squinted at him. “You mean you don’t regularly deal with dead bodies?”

“No?!” The other man spluttered.

Both men were still talking too close to the microphones.

Not appreciating being talked down to, at the end of his rope, and brain absolutely fried from all his anxiety and thoughts, Woz scowled. “Look—it’s not my f*cking problem I don’t know what’s going on!”

The room went quiet. Each of the guys at the tables sat stock still.

Noticing the sudden tension, Woz looked around. “What? What did I say this time?”

Eric twitched, just about ready to start shoving him backstage. “The bleep!” He squeaked out instead. “We talked about this! That was one of the two rules—don’t swear!”

Woz gulped, sparing a look at the crowd. He focused his eyes enough to see the scattered expressions of bewilderment.

Sh*t.

A murmur broke out. People were glancing at each other.

Sh*t.

Justin grabbed at his microphone. “Who’s in charge of the soundboard?” He chuckled nervously.

Catching his drift, the other guys laughed too. Woz remained frozen.

Sam stood, trying to bring the attention over to himself—trying to get the Q&A back on track. He wasn’t sure how much the microphones had picked up, but he hoped to God it was recoverable.

“Let’s have another question,” he stuttered, looking around the crowd. Hands were raised and he picked randomly.

“Is it true you were drinking while you were writing ‘The Funeral’ for Wendy’s Employee? Also—the whole coffin story after was so funny,” the speaker laughed.

The funeral. The funeral. The funeral. Funeral.

He was hyperventilating. Someone had his arm in a vice grip, pulling him out of his chair and away from those God-forsaken lights.

The man stumbled as he was dragged behind the curtain. Before he’d even fully righted himself, he was speaking. “That’s the stuff you people watch?! My friends dying?”

Dominic held his hands up placatingly. “But—you just recover from death, right? So it’s not that bad?”

Woz flinched harshly and Dominic clammed up. Clearly that was the wrong thing to say.

“And it’s funny to you people. You laughed at his funeral!” He choked out.

Eric placed his hand on Woz’s shoulder. “Well, it wasn’t really a traditional funeral, you know? I’m sure people weren’t really thinking about being disrespectful. It was meant to be funny.”

Woz shrugged the hand away harshly. “I thought... I thought I’d maybe come to terms with it. The whole—all the ‘life isn’t real and I’m just a f*cking TV show’ sh*t. But... you-you watched his funeral. And some of you—some people say it’s their favorite episode?! Their favorite! Because they think it’s funny!” He dragged his hands through his hair. The breaths were still coming fast and ragged. “F*ck. F*ck!”

He wanted to hit something. “You-you watch—sessions with my therapist! You watched me bathe. You watched my friend’s funeral. Do you watch me eat dinner? Do you watch me sleep? It’s all just entertainment to you people. You don’t care.”

“We’re not trying to be insensitive,” Sam pleaded. “We promise. We’re not trying to be like that.”

“What are you trying to be like, then?” He spat. “You gonna turn this into an episode, too? Episode 300: Scott grieves. You should have a joke counter on screen! Because there’s going to be so many jokes! Ha ha! I’m laughing so hard! Look at him crying! Isn’t that hilarious?!” He was shaking badly.

Eric reached out again. “Woz—”

“Don’t—don’t f*cking call me that.”

It was quiet. Out there, he could hear the echo of Justin and Joe’s voices, amplified by microphones, talking on stage. There was a lot of chatter.

Dominic stepped forwards, slowly. “...Scott,” he practically whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The man looked back at him, eyes glistening. “You’re not him,” he cried. “And who am I? To you?”

Eric dragged the four of them together, slinging his arms over their shoulders.

He didn’t push away.

“A friend,” Eric insisted. “You’re our friend.”

Woz opened his mouth to protest, but Eric continued. “And that goes, whether you’re Scott D. Wozniak or... Scott... W-E-T-A-L-A-T-F-M-M. Wozniak, okay? You just look similar, that’s all. Twins,” he dragged the man into the circle a little closer. “You’re real, okay? You are real.”

“But how?” He sobbed. “I can’t be real. I just can’t. You write my life. Like a story. None of it is real.”

Sam shook his head. “See, that’s not true—and I can prove it. We showed you some Scott The Woz stuff, right? And I know it wasn’t much, but you never saw anything about you and Target Employee... having a relationship, right? Uh, I don’t think that would ever be a... canon thing. I don’t think Scott would ever write that.”

Woz blinked at him with wide eyes.

“But you have that relationship with him, right? That’s yours. You did that. You. Because you’re a real person with a real life and it just so happens that there’s some overlap between what we see as entertainment and what’s your real life. Okay?” He sighed. “Same thing for the... Jeb and Terry divorce? That implies we were... married? Alright, I guess—but that’s another thing that has literally never been in Scott The Woz. Do you understand?”

Woz nodded gently. “Yeah,” he scrubbed at his eyes. “I understand.” He looked around at the group with a pleading expression. “Please, I can’t do this. Don’t make me go back out there.”

The men spared glances at each other.

“No of course not,” Dominic reassured. “If you don’t wanna go back on stage, we aren’t gonna make ya.”

“But what about Scott’s thing? I don’t want to upset him. Oh, God—I’ve ruined everything...”

Dominic shook his head. “No, it’s fine, really. We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. I think Justin and Joe are already covering for you.”

Woz kicked at the ground, watching the toe of his shoe scuff the floor. “I just want to go home,” he admitted.

“Soon,” Sam promised. “You can stay back here if that’s what you need. We got you.”

Tears dripped from Woz’s eyes. “Thank you,” he spoke sincerely.

“That’s what friends are for, huh?” Eric smiled, rustling his hair.

PART 21: I WAS EMBARRASSED

The aftermath.

Justin and Joe brushed behind the curtain, speaking together with close heads and hushed voices. At the sight of their little huddle, they straightened up.

Joe frowned in concern. “Hey, is everything alright back here?”

Woz waved him away, quickly rubbing at his face. “No—uh, no I’m good. We’re good.”

Not believing Woz, he approached him, speaking in a low tone. Allowing Joe to talk to their shaking friend, Justin caught the other three’s attention.

“They were askin’ about him,” he said quietly. “A little concerned I think, but mostly just curious.”

“What do we do now?” Sam asked. “I mean, we can’t make him go back on stage.”

Dominic was already shaking his head. “No, they’d just pester him with questions about it. We might as well take advantage of this excuse; end the panel early.”

The three nodded.

“Yeah, end it early,” Eric agreed. “They’ll pester him anyways later, but at least we have some time to think about it—maybe ask Scott what he thinks about stuff.”

Happy with the decision, they rejoined the other two. Joe was patting Woz on the shoulder. He’d stopped crying, but his expression was downright depressed.

Silently asking a question, Joe looked at them all.

Dominic cleared his throat, turning to Woz. “So... we can head back to the hotel now if you want—”

“But what about the convention?” Woz cut him off. “We can’t just leave! You’re guests!”

“If we told them there was an emergency, they’d understand,” Eric shrugged.

“Emergency? What’s the emergency?”

Justin blinked. “...You are. You clearly can’t do this, we don’t want you to be suffering over it, man.”

An unknown expression flickered in Woz’s eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “I can do it. We can stay.”

Joe tilted his head. “Are you sure? I thought you wanted to go back home?”

Woz looked away. “Yeah. Home. Not the... not the hotel...”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can call it off, go to the zoo or something. We went last year, y’know—we can show you around!” Sam offered.

“No, no—it’s fine, it’s fine, ” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We can stay the rest of the day. I’ll just brush off any questions or whatever and I’ll be fine. There’s people who want photos and autographs and stuff and I can’t let them down.”

The others raised their eyebrows at this attitude but didn’t try to protest.

Woz laughed lightly, removing his glasses to wipe at his still salty eyes.

Suddenly, his expression twisted into a scowl. His voice hardened. “What did he do?”

Dominic startled. “Scott!”

“What did he do?” He repeated, flexing his fingers and taking deep breaths.

Eric shook his head. “We had to do the panel—”

“But it shouldn’t have finished yet,” Scott’s eyes snapped to stare directly into Eric’s. “So what’s going on?”

It was tense and uncomfortable. Scott’s shoulders were hunched and his voice was strained, but his face was full of fire.

“He didn’t get to say much,” Sam reassured.

“So what did he get to say?”

“He... said Terry and Jeb had been married and gotten divorced and, uh, said he and Target Employee were dating. It was ‘cause of a character ships question.”

“What the—? Character ships?! I’ve never implied any... romance! What?!”

“That’s just what he said, don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Christ...” He tugged at his hair stressfully.

Dominic stepped forwards. “Someone brought up Wendy’s Employee when he was already feeling anxious and he kind of just shut down.”

“You’re fucking kidding me—”

“And we just dragged him back here, that’s all.”

“‘That’s all’. ‘That’s all’,” he laughed dryly. “I can’t fucking believe him. I knew he couldn’t do it. I knew this was a bad idea. We never shoulda even fuckin’ come here—”

Eric interrupted. “The man had a panic attack on stage! You can’t fault him for that!”

“Yes, I’m gonna know he had a panic attack on stage. You know why?! ‘Cause it’s about to be all over the Internet. And who’s gonna have to deal with that, huh? Me!”

“And you can’t blame him for it, Scott! He was crying!”

“He’s always fucking crying! You know, maybe I just want him to try for once. Because I try for him. But does he ever try for me? No! No he doesn’t! He messes up my shit! He kills me! He fucking killed me or did you forget about that? ‘Cause I haven’t! I probably never will!”

Joe held his hands up. “Wh—he didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Whose side are you on, huh?” Scott spat.

Eric glared. “Sides?! We aren’t doing sides! Come on, man!”

“Oh really? ‘Cause that’s how it looks to me!”

“Of course not! Listen—he’s trying! We’re all trying. He tried to stick it out for you.”

“And where did that end up bringing us? Embarrassing me! Again! They think it’s me—why would they not think it’s me? And then what do I say when they ask me about this stuff? I don’t know!” He panted with anger.

“But he does care about your reputation! About you!”

Scott laughed sarcastically. “And when has he ever shown that, huh?! I’ve never seen it! And I bet you all encouraged him, too—put him in that spot in the first place!”

Sam shook his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what are you accusing us for, now?!”

“It’s always ‘Woz did this’ and ‘Woz said that’— ‘ha ha he’s soooo funny!’ Do you even think about me when I’m gone?” He choked. “You don’t, do you?”

He stunned the room.

“Scott—” Eric tried.

“Yeah. ‘Cause why have the real Scott when you can have some stupid character who’ll follow you around like a lost puppy instead, huh?”

“Scott—!”

“I know what you think—”

Eric grabbed his shoulder. “SCOTT. Scott. Where is this coming from, man?”

Scott’s frown deepened.

Eric sighed. “Dude—I don’t—listen, listen. Alright? We really care about you. When you’re gone, we’re always worried, even if it doesn’t seem like it. We talk about Woz a lot because we don’t want to feel like you’re missing out. You’re both our friends—we don’t prefer one or the other, right?”

The other guys were nodding. Eric continued. “And... we didn’t think things would happen this way. Obviously. Like—I expected, if anything, he’d be too nervous to go up in the first place. Didn’t think he’d freak out like that. I never woulda agreed to anything if it was gonna cause him to have a panic attack and for you to get upset. Trust me.”

Scott’s frown faltered but Eric still had more to say. “And... Woz was also upset that—he was upset that he was messing things up for you. When he was crying, he was just concerned about you.”

Scott’s eyes widened, opening and closing his mouth until he landed on something to say. “...Really?”

Again, they all nodded.

“Yeah, man,” Justin stepped forwards. “He was saying like he thought he’d ruined everything. Really upset.”

Scott stayed quiet.

“He seems really guilty. All the time,” Dominic murmured. “I don’t think he’s ever trying to be malicious.”

“...Guilty...”

“I get the feeling that he wants to make it up to you somehow,” Joe confessed.

The tension finally left Scott’s frame as he looked away from all their eyes. “I just thought...” he blinked slowly. “Oh.”

“...‘Oh’?” Eric asked.

He shuffled his feet, returning the eye contact once more. “We’ve swapped again.”

Eric groaned. They’d just been getting somewhere! Whatever. “Are you alright?”

Woz sniffed. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” he sighed. “Let’s just... let’s just get things over with.”

He glanced around dejectedly, fiddling with his ID badge. “Who’s coming to the convention floor with me? We should take some photos and stuff. And then there was that signing table thing. Gotta be ready for that.”

The fake enthusiasm wasn’t reaching his voice or his face at all, making the others wince slightly, but they went along with it.

“Sure, buddy. Let’s go take some pictures,” Justin bumped his shoulder, leading the way away from the Q&A stage and the audience that were slowly leaving.

PART 22: I’M DREADING THE REVEAL

Scott misses out on Too Many Games.

[THAT MORNING]

When Scott had woken up as Woz on a day where it was so important that he didn’t, he was more than alarmed.

It’s convention day.

Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed his phone and scampered downstairs to the basement of the empty house. He was alone again and the basement was, in fact, Woz’s. No Philadelphia, no hotel room, no convention.

“Why?!” Scott yelled, letting the word bounce off the walls.

He paced and tugged at his hair, the rhythmic thump of his feet on the floor keeping him company.

They’re gonna have to take him to the convention. He’s gonna have to do the Q&A.

He dragged his fingers dramatically down his face.

So much for the swaps having a cooldown period—he needed to break the news to Dominic that his theory was bullshit.

No swaps for ages. Then suddenly on the plane and when they were out in the city and now...

Were they becoming more frequent?

He shook his head. He didn’t know anything. Months and he still knew nothing about any of this. It was just about taking the road where it led him, huh?

Scott didn’t think that this was a good road to be following.

...Company! He needed some company. None of this lonely bullshit.

His hand hovered over his back pocket, but he paused. Glancing over in the direction of the desk room, he considered a better idea. Scott found himself picking up the disconnected landline phone. And to his surprise, it was soon dialing.

Click.

He hesitated for just a second before speaking into the device. “Hey Rex, it’s Scott. You wanna come ‘round?”

“Aw, hell yeah, man!” Rex’s voice thankfully emanated from the phone. “You want Jeb to come too?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Can you pass on the invite to him?”

“O‘Course. I’ll grab him on my way over. Won’t be long! See ya soon.”

The phone clicked again. He brought it away from his ear and glanced over it, inspecting the lack of connection to—well... to anything. How strange...

True to his word, Rex made a swift appearance at his front door, Jeb in tow with his eyes half-lidded and his hands in his hoodie pocket.

Scott herded them in and the two immediately made for the basement.

“So what’s the game plan?” Rex asked, peering closely at a stack of 3DS games on the coffee table.

Scott scoffed. “I don’t fuckin’ know. But I’m not sitting here on my own again. No way.”

Rex ‘hmphed’. “If you were feelin’ lonely before you coulda just asked us to come ‘round those times, instead o’ just hoping we were already hanging out here.”

Scott grimaced. “Well I never wanted to invite you here and then immediately swap back home, y’know?” He shrugged. “I’d rather just... jump in, I guess...”

“As if we really care,” Jeb confessed, helping himself to a seat on the couch. “We get dragged over here enough by our Scott anyway. I’d expect the same from you.”

Scott frowned slightly. “‘The same’—we are not the same. We are very far from the same, actually.”

Jeb said nothing, but raised an eyebrow and eyed him up and down.

...What was that for?!

Before Scott could speak his mind, Rex piped up.

“So what was this Too Many Games convention thing? Err—Woz brought it up yesterday. I thought you both liked games? Why are there too many of them?”

Scott rubbed the space between his eyebrows. “That’s not really—uh, yeah we were going to a convention. As guests.”

“Guests,” Jeb hummed—not quite a question.

“Yeah, yeah. For... Scott The Woz.” He felt a little shy about admitting it. Almost like he was being rude by bringing it up. Scott watched Jeb and Rex’s faces, but both didn’t seem to have a noticeable outward reaction.

“Cool,” was Jeb’s comment.

“So what do you do as guests? Make a speech?”

Scott scratched at the back of his head. “There’s a Q&A panel, so fans can ask questions and stuff. Then we got some time to spare and then there’s a table thing and people can come get stuff signed or get a handshake or whatever. That’s all for today.”

Rex frowned. “Well, how’s our Scott gonna A some Qs about your sh*t? Did you prepare an answer sheet or somethin’?”

Scott combed through his hair again. “No. I’m just gonna have to hope he can manage through it. My God—I am hoping.”

Jeb inspected his nails. “Wait. You aren’t actually expecting him to be able to do it, right?”

Scott spluttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeb rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up. “I mean, there’s no way he makes it through that panel. All those eyes?” He scoffed. “He’s gonna crack.”

Scott chewed his thumb. “Shit...” he mumbled.

Rex raised his hands into a half-hearted shrug. “Well it is video game stuff right? Maybe his need to talk about dumb sh*t will overpower the stage fright.”

Jeb laughed. “Sure.”

Scott sighed. “Somehow that doesn’t inspire much confidence in me,” he commented dryly.

Jeb waved his hand. “Well he’ll clam up or he’ll freak the f*ck out. Either or.”

“...Freak out?”

Rex nodded. “My bet is he freaks out. He talks a lot, you know.”

“Of fucking course,” Scott scowled. “Of course I gotta worry about him. Again. It’s like looking after a stupid kid that keeps wandering off.”

Jeb cackled. “Yeah. Well, I’d help if I could but I don’t get the cool dimension-hopping abilities.”

“Imagine if we did though...” Rex thought. “I wanna meet my guy. Eric, right? That’d be cool.”

Scott blinked. “Well honestly I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe I should ask. Maybe you would get along. I dunno.”

Jeb pursed his lips. “Not sure. Seems weird.”

Rex shrugged. “Enjoy being lonely. I gotta make friends with my clone.”

Grumbling, Scott crossed his arms. “S’not all fun and games...”

Jeb stretched himself out a little more on the couch, comfortable. “Not our fault you’re a little bitch. You could get along with each other if you actually tried. Then it would be a movie plot or whatever the f*ck you wanted this to be, I guess.”

Scott huffed. “I do try to get along! But then it isn’t me who keeps embarrassing him! You know how annoying it is when I get back and see that half my Subreddit wants to take ‘grocery pictures’ with me? And I’m like—‘the fuck is a grocery picture?!’ Oh! Well turns out it’s become a meme or something cause he went to Walmart and took a fan photo when he was getting milk! Honestly it looked like someone was pointing a gun at him.”

“Well, if he was bein’ threatened then no wonder he decided to take photos on your behalf,” Jeb hit back.

Scott pinched his nose bridge. “That’s not what I meant. And you know that. I just—! Why now?! Of all days! You’re saying he’s gonna freak out... means he’s gonna do something fuckin’ crazy and I’m not gonna be able to fix it.”

“Whoa—you’re sayin’ that like he’s gonna murder someone,” Rex placated.

“He’s gonna murder me soon when I have a goddamn aneurysm. And now I gotta just sit here and wait.”

Jeb hummed. “Well ya never know; maybe you swap back before the panel actually starts.”

Scott huffed. “That’d be too convenient. Not likely.”

“Ya never know...” Rex sing-songed. “He’ll do fine, man. Trust me. Don’t overthink it. Stop being depressed—we aren’t therapists y’know? That’s Jerry’s job. Did you mean to call him?”

“No offense but I am not gonna go to Jerry for legitimate advice.”

The other two laughed. But something about Rex’s words pulled at the back of his brain... like a memory on a string...

***

“SON OF A BITCH!” Scott yelled.

Rex jumped up at the commotion. “Whuh?!”

He had made it back! Just in time for the panel to start, for him to get his bearings, and for him to get his ass on stage.

And now he was here again.

Scott punched his leg angrily, but winced when it hurt both the limb and his hand.

Jeb raised his eyebrows, disconcerted. “Chill out! What’s the big problem?!”

“What’s the problem?! He’s the big problem, that’s what! I thought we were in the fucking clear! For fuck’s sake—I was literally sitting at the panel table! We were—”

Jeb cut him off, frowning. “Dude, stop. There’s literally nothin’ you can do. Stop workin’ yourself up over it.”

Scott continued to seethe. “Yeah? You know what I can do about it? Fuckin’ kill him, that’s what. He isn’t taking anything seriously! He was goofing off backstage before I swapped back there! He’s not gonna do this Q&A!”

Rex’s eyes widened. “Hold on—kill him? The hell? It’s just a panel, man!”

“It’s not just a panel!” Scott was pacing in anger now. “It’s everything to me!” The hysterical man laughed, covering his face with his hands. “One little ‘and then Scott dies’ in my next script and all this bullshit is over. See how easy that is? And then I’m not suffering for someone else’s mistakes anymore. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

It was quiet.

Then Jeb laughed.

Scott scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

Jeb wiped away a fake tear. “That easy, huh? You’ve not thought about this at all, have ya?”

Scott hated his tone. Rex eyed them both, staying uncharacteristically quiet.

Jeb continued. “Let me put it this way: what makes you think you’re so important, mister Wozniak?” He crossed his arms. “Is it because you can edit? Write a script? Make a web series?” Jeb leaned forwards, eyes boring into Scott. “Does that make you more important?”

Scott didn’t have a response yet. What was he trying to say?

Jeb let his words sit in the electric air for a second before he slowly leaned back in his seat, eyes still locked onto the bespectacled man in front of him.

“You aren’t the god you think you are.”

Scott’s eyes widened. Rex was just an observer at this point.

“Sorry, am I out of character right now?” Jeb blinked at him innocently before switching his tone. “Why’s my character talking back to me?” Jeb pitched his voice up mockingly. “I am not your character. I’m not your puppet,” he spat.

Scott took a step back.

“We aren’t your puppets for you to play with. And you aren’t a puppet master. Stay in your place.”

His mouth wasn’t working. He just couldn’t reply. “I—” He swallowed harshly. “I’m going to fix things.”

Jeb wasn’t done. “So, what’s your big plan, then, Mr. Smart Guy? Or have you forgotten that you’re not a god?”

Scott stuttered, lost for words. “What’s your deal?”

“What’s your deal?” Jeb shot back. “Back off. Keep your sh*t to yourself—stop tryna take it out on my friends.”

In the face of this unexpected turn of conversation, Scott’s shock sizzled into fury. “You... you watch. You watch, now. I’m gonna get back there and—”

***

Staring at the paper in front of him, Scott shook away the last of the spinning feeling that came with a swap. The pen was in his hand; the ink on the page was still fresh.

It was an unfinished apology note from Woz.

‘Dear Scott,

I am sorry. I am so so sorry. I really tried with the convention. I tried with the panel.

But I’

...

“Guilty...” Scott murmured.

The revelation from a reality away but only a moment ago echoed in his head.

***

The hotel door clicked shut.

Scott was back. In both senses of the word.

Quietly, he shuffled into the room.

He was glad that his friends had allowed him to excuse himself once they’d swapped back again, and that there hadn’t been much left to do before he was getting a ride back to his room. The end of the TMG day was a bit of a blur.

Emotionlessly, his gaze lingered at the mess in the room—the signs of a morning rush to get ready that he hadn’t gone through. There were clothes spilling from his suitcase.

Scott slowly moved towards the bathroom. He showered, changed into pajamas and seated himself on the bed without speaking a single word.

Gray light creeped in through the cracks below and between the curtains. The mattress beneath him was too large and a little too firm. He didn’t really care. Each of the generic framed paintings clung onto inches of ancient dust. Meanwhile, the scrubbed-clean side tables seemed almost sterile. It was a noisy city outside, but the cloak of oncoming nighttime seemed as though it was muffling the honk of car horns that was slipping through the cracks of the window.

Scott slid his laptop towards him from the end of the bed.

The script he’d been working on last night beamed back at him.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

Quietly, he spent the next hour browsing online. He wanted to know.

He was tagged in so many photos—but most of them weren’t even him.

Not that they knew that.

Occasionally, his eyes drifted to the captions. There were a lot of people calling him out on his weirdness today. A photo of a guy posing with the entire gang at the signing table stuck out to him. The person had a caption for it.

‘rip to these bitches trying to be me But like seriously wtf was he doing 😭😭’

He wasn’t in the mood to laugh at the absurdity of it.

The lid of the laptop was slammed closed.

PART 23: I CALLED FOR HELP

Scott considers his next plan.

The crust around his eyes seemed heavier than usual. A restless night of ‘sleep’ showed itself through his eye sockets, which seemed almost bruised with how dark the shadows were around them.

Scott slammed the suitcase shut.

Two days of hell had come to an end.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried to enjoy the convention—far from it—it’s just that he really couldn’t. What a disaster.

They’d swapped so many times, he was finding it hard to remember when he’d been where. Flashing rapidly between a basement that smelled like candle wax and dust and a convention center that smelled like gamer sweat and plastic.

It was numbing.

Scott’s friends could clearly tell that it was taking its toll on him.

...He avoided communicating with Woz.

After swapping six times in eight minutes, he’d had to give in to the meltdown that had been brewing in him for so long, forcing him to camp out in an empty restroom until one of his friends found him.

There was only so much he could take.

He’d left early that day.

The sooner he was back home, the better.

And he didn’t want to acknowledge it, but... the swaps were getting more frequent. There was no doubt about it, really.

He needed help.

But that was his problem! Who do you turn to for help in a situation like this?! There wasn’t exactly a helpline he could call for advice on interdimensional abilities. No, he hadn’t checked but also he didn’t want to—he seriously doubted that his specific problem would even have a solution, anyways.

Scott breathed slowly. He needed to calm down.

His latest theory was that the rapid swaps had been tied to... emotion or something like that. Like... they were intensifying alongside his emotions. The second he’d got out of that stressful mess and back to the hotel room, it’d slowed down again. That must count for something, right? So... stay calm.

Easier said than done.

He slammed the hotel room door behind him for the final time.

***

Returning to his home sweet home was making him feel better than when he was away in a stupid city filled with stupid people with their stupid cameras. However, he couldn’t shake that ‘something bad is about to happen’ feeling that had been looming over him like a stormy cloud.

The calm before the storm...

He shook his head.

It was important that he swap right now and try to get things sorted out—no more wasting time and sitting idly in Woz’s house. He needed to act.

***

Spinning.

He was already moving towards the desk room before he’d fully registered that the swap had happened.

Scott twirled the cord of the phone around his fingers, hesitant. He knew it would be wrong of him to ask for help after his behavior during their last meeting, but... he was desperate. He needed to do this.

“...Hello?”

He jumped, not hearing it click and forgetting he’d already started calling Rex.

Scott coughed. “Um. Hi.”

There was a pause. “...Hi.”

He drummed his fingers on the wood of the desk, considering his words. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more instead of getting swept up in the ‘I need to do this now’ rush.

“What do you want?” Rex finally asked, breaking their stalemate.

Scott pounced on the open opportunity. “I want—I just wanted—I wanna apologize first of all.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Um... my—my... behavior. And my words. That just wasn’t... it wasn’t right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I won’t let it happen again. I’m really sorry.”

It was quiet.

“You were out of line,” Rex stated. The truth of the simple statement cut through Scott’s heart like a knife. “You better be sorry,” he warned.

“I am,” Scott promised. “I am. I’m really sorry. I need to apologize.”

“You upset Scott. And Jeb. ...And me. It wasn’t cool—any of what ya said. Wasn’t right.”

“I know,” Scott’s voice came out almost whispery. “I’m sorry.”

Rex went quiet again. Scott chewed on his lip, dreading the next response.

“Apologize to the other guys,” Rex demanded. “They need the apology more than I do.”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Scott spoke with his hands despite the lack of an audience. “I absolutely will, don’t worry about them.”

Yet again, silence.

“To be honest...” Rex hummed. “It’s not them I’m worryin’ about.”

Scott was confused. “..Huh?”

“I’m more worried about you,” Rex continued. “There’s somethin’ not right with you.”

Cold washed over Scott. The unusual, utterly serious tone of voice from Rex combined with those words...

“...What do you mean?” He asked reluctantly.

“...Somethin’ tells me you aren’t usually a mean guy.”

The phone buzzed. Rex had ended the call.

***

Scott had to be honest... that phone call had shaken him up a little. He knew that asking for help was gonna be awkward but... he hadn’t expected any of that.

His big plan to get things moving had been thrown out the window. Scott had decided to wait for another day or two before he tried to talk to Rex again, hoping he’d be less cryptically ominous the next time.

Once again, Scott found himself swapping to Woz World. And again, he was already hurrying to get the desk phone up to his ear.

This time, he was ready to start spitting words as soon as the other man answered.

Click.

“Rex! Hello.”

“Uhh... hi. Scott. Do you... need somethin’...?”

Scott sighed quietly. He was getting lucky with these easy openings. “Uh—yes, actually. It’s kinda... complicated?”

“What’ve you done...?”

“No, no, I—uh, was just wondering if you could help me. With something.”

“It depends what that is...” Rex seemed hesitant to even be speaking with him right now. Scott didn’t blame him.

“It’s about the swapping stuff. I just... think you might be able to help? And no pressure but... this was, like, my only idea.”

Scott tried to not let the pleading tone seep into his words as he worriedly ran his fingers through his hair.

Rex sounded confused. “Huh? What do you need my help for?”

“Hear me out,” Scott said slowly. “You remember the cult shit, right?”

If it were possible, Rex sounded even more confused now. “Of course I do.”

“Well... I know it’s super out there, but... I was just wondering... would you happen to have any know-how at all about magic shit to do with your cult shit that could possibly help me—me and Woz out...?”

He was about to stressfully chew a hole through his lip and tear the hair out of his skull at this rate.

“I guess...” At least it sounded like Rex was seriously considering it. “But I’ll have to look into it. I’m not an expert y’know? Ya gotta give me time.”

Scott sighed in relief. He needed time... alright, that hurt a little. But! At least things were moving now, just like he wanted.

“Thank you so much. It means a lot that you’re willing to help.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rex mumbled. “Remember who I’m doing this for.”

Scott frowned sadly. Rex hung up again.

He pulled the phone away from his ear, still combing through his hair. He was gonna find it hard to have the patience to rely on someone else in order to make any progress, but he trusted Rex. And if he just let Rex do his thing, this would get fixed sooner and then he could finally get back to living his life in peace.

***

It was late. Scott was working.

The usual.

He knew it wasn’t great for his eyes, but Scott kept the lights dimmed and let his workspace just be lit up by the glow of his computer monitor. He yawned.

Tiredness was creeping up on him, but scripts didn’t write themselves. Getting more episodes written and recorded was just another step of his plan to get back to normality—he had to do it.

Scott felt his skin prickling. He scratched absently at his arm, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him.

Suddenly, the light prickle turned to sharp pins and needles.

Gasping at the static, he massaged the source on his upper arm with his fingertips, but the pain got sharper. It was actually hurting now.

Worriedly, he peeled his sweater over his head so that he could get at the affected spot.

His eyes widened.

No fucking way.

The skin had begun to turn dark red. Not from any injury, no. It was turning red with the beginnings of tattoo ink.

The plaid tattoo that so famously belonged to his counterpart.

PART 24: I FELL OVER THE EDGE

The scales tip their balance.

His breathing quickened. He was hyperventilating.

Holy shit holy shit—

The edges of his vision were blurring, spots appearing in his sight, blue border going fuzzy—

Blue border.

Ice cold dread washed over him.

Why could he see a border?

His frantic eyes darted to the computer. The video he was editing sat waiting in the open program, still being worked on as he had been doing for the past couple hours now.

This was happening to him. To his body.

He hadn’t swapped.

Mournfully, he ran his hand over his arm, poking at the inked skin and stretching the design with his pinched fingers.

It was real.

What was happening to him?

The world was getting pretty hazy. Scott hoped that it was because of the lack of oxygen to his brain and not some other reason that was causing it.

Blindly, his hand swept over his desk, searching for his phone. Clattering rang out as pens, his label maker and a water bottle hit the ground.

Fog was taking over his brain. He couldn’t think. He was no longer aware of what was going on.

Then there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him. That second of clarity was enough to reach through the fog, gripping onto his consciousness like a weak lifeline. The voices filtering into his ears were just noise. Scott reached out and something clasped his hand. He gripped back desperately.

“At l—st he’s —spond— now. —y Scott? Are —okay? —an you talk —us?”

“—’s just blinking —not saying —thing. —don’t —ink —really conscious.”

“Get ready to take —hospital. I don’t —can help —here.”

The voices of his friends overlapped each other as it became more and more confusing to figure out who was actually speaking. There were definitely more voices than there were people in the room.

“Save —game fo— him, you know what he’s like.”

“Is this something to do with the—”

“So —t’s going on over th—?”

Scott frowned. Why was it all so wrong and echoey?

“Scott, we’re gonna move you. Is that okay?”

Dominic’s face snapped into focus.

“Dominic,” he croaked. “‘S goin’ on?” He slurred out.

The man’s face instantly morphed into relief. Scott saw Eric as well beside him, eyebrows raised high on his head.

Scott’s eyes drifted around, searching aimlessly. First, he spotted the death grip he had on Eric’s hand and immediately let go apologetically. Next, he saw his sweater, heaped on the floor, and his desk in disarray. Finally, he spied the spatters of color covering the front of his white shirt. Curiously, he pinched the shirt, scratching at one of the spots with his nail. He frowned.

“...Are you feeling alright now?” Dominic asked hesitantly.

Scott didn’t answer the question, searching for the source of these weird stains. His hand moved up to his mouth, brushing under his bottom lip with the back of his thumb. He pulled his hand away, looking at the skin. There was a wet smear there.

“Scott?” Eric glanced at Dominic.

Scott didn’t acknowledge him, still busy squinting at his fingers and shirt. He raised his hand higher up.

“...Is this blue?” Scott asked them. He blinked slowly and his face split into a grin. Scott giggled. “Am I having a colorblind moment?”

Dominic’s frown returned. “No, it’s... blue. Do you... know where it came from?”

“I dunnoooo...” Scott hummed, thinking dramatically. “Probably from me!” He began giggling again.

Eric stared at him. “We also, uh, noticed that... tattoo you’ve got there,” the concerned man’s eyes darted to the pattern on his friend’s upper arm. “You know what’s up with that?”

“That’s kind of a crazy story!” Scott cheered. “It literally, like, appeared! It was weird!”

Dominic scanned Scott, double-checking for any visible head trauma. “You’re acting a little off, Scott. Do you wanna tell us what happened tonight?”

Scott shook his head. “Not really... the first part of that story is soooo boring...”

“I just think it’ll shed some useful light on what’s goin’ on here, y’know?” Dominic explained. “So... when you do feel like telling us...”

Eric grabbed Dominic’s arm, tilting him away from their bespectacled friend. “It’s definitely some swapping shit, right?” He whispered to him. “Otherwise it’s drugs but I don’t think I’d really even consider that as an option.”

“Yeah, I agree. But... what caused it? That’s what I wanna know. He seems so out of it right now. How do we bring him back to us?”

Scott interrupted them. “I don't wanna alarm you guys but I’m totally seeing—” he paused to chortle. “—I’m totally seeing a blue border right now,” he laughed.

The other two froze.

“Uhh... you’re what?” Eric’s eyes were wide. Tattoo? Blue blood? Blue border...?

“Yeah!” Scott exclaimed. “It’s f*ckin’ crazy!”

They flinched.

“Did you just—” Dominic stuttered.

“...Bleeping,” Eric concluded his mental list out loud.

“Whoahhh...” Scott’s eyes were sparkling. “How does my mouth do that?! Bitch! Wait, no... Sh*t! F*ck! P*ssy! Haha!”

Eric made eye contact with Dominic. “Permission to slap...?” He asked.

Dominic bit his lip. “Reluctantly... permission granted.”

Eric saluted weakly. “On it, doc.”

Scott was now dipping his finger in the blue coming from his mouth and using it to paint a smiley face on the back of his hand.

Eric snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey! Scott! Look at me!”

“Gwuh?” Said Scott.

Eric slapped him across his cheek, the sharp sound ringing out.

“Ouch!” Winced Dominic sympathetically. “That seemed a bit harsh...”

Eric raised his hands defensively.

Scott spluttered, blinking rapidly. “...What? What?”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Eric apologized. “But I am very surprised that even worked.”

“The fuck is going on?!” Scott cried, shaking his head rapidly with a hand weaved into his hair.

The other two sighed.

“Not bleepin’ anymore... that’s good,” Eric announced, relieved.

“What just happened?” Scott asked the pair desperately. “Oh my God...”

“We were hoping that you could tell us,” Dominic admitted.

Scott shook his head again. “I have no idea... how—how did you even get here?”

“You called,” Eric shrugged. “History repeats itself.”

“I don’t—”

“‘Remember that’,” Dominic interrupted. “Yeah, figured you’d say that.”

Scott stared at his hands, locking his eyes on the blue smiley face. “What do I do...?” He murmured.

He dreaded looking in a mirror right now; he probably looked like such a mess.

“How’s it come to this?”

Dominic and Eric looked at him sadly.

Scott scrubbed at his face tiredly. “I just... why is it getting worse now?”

Dominic’s eyes widened. “You’ve... tipped the balance,” he gasped, a hand over his mouth.

“What does that mean?!”

“Like... before, it was balanced and it was pretty alright. But now you’ve crossed the halfway point. The balance has tipped. Now all the bad stuff is happening,” he theorized.

Scott was pale. “If before was good then how bad is it gonna be now?!”

Eric scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Well, we already know that now, don’t we? That was fucking scary, man.”

“...So what does that mean for me?” Scott whispered. The past however long had been absolute hell; losing his awareness and his self... it was awful. How could it get worse?

...That was not a good question to ask out loud.

“And those voices...” he muttered.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Voices...?”

Scott slumped into his chair. “It’s just you two here right now. But I heard more people than that.”

“More people...” Dominic frowned. “Who...?”

Scott scrunched his eyes shut tightly. “I think—I think it was—they were your voices. They were the guys in the other reality,” he confessed. “I think. I think.”

“So you could hear them?!” Dominic exclaimed. “Jesus! So what does that mean? You don’t usually hear them, right?”

“No I don’t. I wish I knew things,” Scott looked between them with worry creasing his brow. “I really don’t want this. It sounded like... maybe Woz was going through the same thing. I dunno. I wasn’t really... present.”

Dominic waved him off. “It’s fine. I think you need some rest, alright? This all must have been...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ll stick around. Sleep on the couch down here? I’ll pull up a chair...”

Scott pressed his palms into his eyes. “I’m so scared,” he told them. “Really. Honestly. This is scaring me.”

His thoughts were interrupted by a prickling on the skin of his arm. Alarmed, he looked, grabbing at it and catching the full attention of his friends.

All three watched the tattoo vanish.

PART 25: I’VE GOT A NEW IDEA

Scott spots something.

“...Huh?!” Was all that Scott could manage to spit out. “You guys saw that, right?!”

“Um... it was hard to miss,” Eric stared at the spot, baffled.

“The fuck...?”

Dominic hummed in confusion, grabbing Scott’s arm so that he could look it over. “It’s like it was never there! That’s... interesting.”

“I felt it prickle a bit,” Scott told them. “Same thing when it showed up. It felt all itchy.”

Eric clapped his hands. “Oh! Border! Is the border still there?” He peered into Scott’s eyes, as if he’d be able to see the Blue Border itself in his sclera.

Dominic nodded enthusiastically and Scott raised his eyebrows. “I always forget about the border,” he confessed. “I don’t see it right now. But whenever I’ve got it, I kinda... tune it out after a while. And yes, it looks as weird as you’d think it does. Don’t know if I’ve mentioned that before.”

“So the scales... teetered,” Dominic announced, thinking back to his latest theory. “But they’ve gone back to neutral now?”

“I hope so,” Scott grumbled. “How do I wash this out?” He picked at his stained shirt.

“Well if the stain bleeds you’ll end up with a light blue shirt. Could be worse,” Eric shrugged.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works. Are you doing your laundry right...?”

“Usually I just avoid spilling stuff on my clothes.”

“Wh—nevermind. We are getting sidetracked! This is literally a crisis we’re dealing with right now,” Scott pointed at them. “Thoughts and theories!”

“We’ve done that already,” Dominic reminded. “Our next step is to get help.”

Scott snapped his fingers cheerfully. “Aha! See, earlier today I had a conversation with a certain Mr. Mohs... who has agreed to help us. Well, help me. Well... help Woz. Doesn’t matter—he’s helpin’.”

“How? What’s he gonna do?” Eric frowned.

Scott drummed his fingers together dramatically. “I have enlisted his help in his knowledge of the art of witchcraft. To be more specific, in the art of cult shit. Basically, I’ve asked him to cast a spell or something. I don’t know what his final plan is gonna be, he just told me he’d look into it.”

“So what’s the end goal?” Dominic asked. “Like... getting rid of it altogether? Making it easier to swap back...?”

“Also not sure,” Scott confessed. “We’ll just have to see.”

Eric grinned. “I trust him.”

Dominic tapped his chin. “I’m really worried about that blue blood you coughed up. Coughing up blood is bad news, anyway. How bad has it gotta be for that blood to change color? That’s not right at all.”

Scott scratched at the remaining blue that was still smeared around his mouth. The dried stuff was crusty, and flaked away under his nail. “It’s kinda cartoonish,” he finally said. “Like when they change the color of blood to pass the censors.”

“Well that’s not a Scott The Woz thing,” Eric pointed out. “You’re definitely not shy about using red blood.”

“We’re also assuming it’s blood,” Dominic announced.

Scott frowned. “What else would it be?”

Dominic shook his head. “No clue. Something else entirely, maybe?”

Scott inspected the flakes of ‘blood’ that were sticking to his nail. “I dunno... just seems like blood...”

“Is your blood just blue now?” Eric asked him. “Quick, cough up some more so we can inspect the color.”

“I’d kinda expect it to come out blue and then change color to red once the whole weird episode was over,” Dominic was still thinking. “But it hasn’t.”

“Well I just know that we’re only gonna get answers from a blood test. And I’m not gonna do a blood test.”

“Humor us, Scott,” Eric joked.

Scott sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I wonder if Rex has already made any progress. Maybe I should be more patient...”

“Ask him. Next time,” Dominic shrugged.

“‘Next time’...” Scott repeated, annoyed.

Eric huffed. “Well not to kick you when you’re down, but the way things are goin’ it’s not gonna be too long until ya can speak to him again.”

“Maybe I should ask him to prioritize some magic spell that creates a cell signal strong enough to go through the fabric of reality,” Scott sighed.

“Advanced 4G?” Dominic smiled.

“Very advanced,” Eric laughed.

***

The two stuck around for a while. Both claimed that they were just in the mood to hang out now, but Scott could tell that they wanted to keep an eye on him. They weren’t entirely subtle about it.

But... he watched Dominic check the clock for the third time in two minutes.

“It’s fine, really,” Scott spoke up suddenly from his seat beside him, in the corner of the couch. The TV droned with a movie they were all barely paying attention to. Dominic shot him a confused expression.

He continued. “You can leave if you want to. I’m feeling much better now.” He turned to Eric. “Same to you.”

Dominic sighed, checking the time yet again. “Yeah... I’m sorry, but It’s just that I gotta work in the morning. Can’t miss work,” he shrugged lightly, but a strange expression crossed his face with his words, and the man’s voice wavered ever so slightly.

Scott frowned.

Eric stretched out his legs, unaware of Scott’s concern. “I’m good to stick around. I can keep an eye on the patient. Make sure he doesn’t escape,” he sent a dramatic, friendly wink to Dominic. “You trust me, right Dom? Just a little bit of chaperoning, you might say,” he laughed.

Scott’s frown deepened. He wanted to ask Dominic about the weird expression.

Especially because he had just seen the same one cross Eric’s face, too.

He had a gut feeling.

Scott chuckled nervously. “Uhh... guys? Weird question...” he hesitated.

Dominic was immediately concerned. “What’s happening?” He stood up.

“No, it’s—uh... are you two okay...?”

The pair of them blinked. “Yeah, why?” Eric asked uncertainly.

Scott fidgeted with his hands. “I just thought... you were both acting strange...”

His friends simultaneously frowned, sharing a look with each other.

“We are?” Dominic asked. “You realize that’s a pretty strong accusation coming from you after tonight, right?” He winced slightly at his slightly harsh phrasing.

Scott waved him off. “I know, I know. Sorry. I think I’m just... on edge after tonight, yeah. Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid,” he sighed.

Dominic rubbed at his eyebrow hesitantly. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

He checked the time on his phone one final time before deciding to leave. He pointed at Eric with a small grin. “Look after him, Rexy. Alright?” He joked.

Eric grinned back and saluted. Scott did not find the same amusement from the small joke. But Dominic was already walking away, telling them he’d let himself out of the house.

Scott stared at Eric, who was tapping away at his phone, unaware of Scott’s eyes on him. The TV continued to waste electricity in the background.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He just wanted something to back up his new idea—just so that he could announce it without further damaging the reputation of his sanity. Scott was pretty sure Dominic hadn’t meant to shoot him down like that... but it would have been kinda awkward to say what he had wanted to say after the fact.

But if he was right... that was not good. Not good at all.

PART 26: I’VE GOT CULT EXPERIENCE NOW

Scott tries some magic.

Rex hummed. “I think it’ll work.”

Scott huffed and tried to thread his fingers through his hair, but winced and grimaced at how short it was currently cut compared to his own. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Obviously I can’t actually test it ‘cause it’s not like there are a lot of people with your exact problem ‘n all that.”

“I understand,” Scott assured. “I’ll do it.”

Rex nodded slowly, closely inspecting the large tome he was holding. The kind that boasted a thick, dark-colored, hardback cover and hundreds of yellowed, old pages. It didn’t even have a title on the spine or front, but strangely did have a library check-out card stuck to the first page.

Rex nodded again, tapping a rainbow-shelled ballpoint pen against his small notebook he’d been scribbling in. “This should be it,” he announced. Scott still wasn’t entirely sure what he was even doing.

All Rex had said to him was that ‘his research had bore the fruitiest fruit’ and that he’d had a breakthrough. Scott had taken just one look at the book that had been tucked into a plastic Target bag in Rex’s hand at his doorstep. That thing had practically screamed ‘this is a magic book’ and he immediately knew that he was gonna be in for a ride. Especially when Rex had requested that Scott fetch some chalk whilst he got busy finalizing his notes.

“I’m still a beginner cult member,” Rex told him. “This is pretty advanced, so I’m hoping it really boosts my status! If it goes well.”

“Every time you speak you just make me more and more concerned. Please... stop?”

“Adrenaline is the best way to go into a fight.”

“A... fight? What? Who am I fighting?”

Rex rolled his eyes. “You know, yourself. Like, figuratively. Like a mental battle. I dunno, man! You’re the one that does all that therapy and psychological sh*t! They’re always sayin’ junk like that.”

Scott massaged his head. “I guess...”

Rex slammed the book closed with a dusty boom, making Scott flinch. “Let’s f*cking do this!” He cheered.

Scott was dragged to the corner of the desk room whilst Rex readied his chalk. Interested, Scott watched him work. Starting with a classic giant circle, the other man then moved on to drawing many other small shapes and symbols that he couldn’t even try to guess the purpose of.

“So we’re in here, ‘cause that’s where your connection is stronger or whatever,” Rex grunted, gesturing aimlessly at the walls as he worked on his masterpiece. “So, like, that makes it easier and all that.”

Scott nodded at the blunt explanation. “So... ‘cause we both spend a lot of time in here...? Or is it another reason?”

“Yeah, but also just ‘cause there’s like... similarities tyin’ ya together in here. Like with the desk and sh*t—you say that used to be your actual desk and then that’s Scott’s talking desk too. Things like that. Just how it works,” he shrugged.

“Right.” Scott’s brain was struggling to catch up to the fact that he was literally participating in magic spells right now. What had life come to?

Rex clapped before standing proudly with his hands on his hips. He wiped away a tear. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured, looking over his work.

Scott frowned. “So... now what? What do I do?”

“Oh, right!” Rex exclaimed, once again dragging Scott by the arm to place him in the center of the circle.

Scott looked around uneasily. It was weird seeing his blue room... redecorated like this.

“Sit,” Rex demanded, turning to snatch the notebook he’d abandoned on the desk so that he could quickly flip through it.

Abruptly, Scott dropped to the floor and positioned himself criss-cross applesauce in the circle as instructed. He felt nervous, shuffling about in the awkward silence.

Rex continued to make thinking noises as he scanned over his handwriting. “Uh huh. Yeah. Uh huh... interesting... yeah...”

Scott coughed. “Erm. What now?”

Rex shushed him. “I’m focusing!”

Self-consciously, Scott raised his hands in apology and stayed quiet.

“As I thought...” Rex murmured. He stared into the distance ominously. “It’s time.”

Carefully, the bearded man lit and placed a selection of Scott’s collection of scented candles around the room. Scott watched him work again. He hoped that the scented candles were an acceptable substitute for... actual candles, or whatever. Absently, he brushed at some chalk dust that was clinging to his sock.

Rex rubbed his hands together, standing at the edge of the circle. He clasped his hands together and stood up straight. He began to murmur under his breath. Scott couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Suddenly the realization hit him like a blunt object; he was sitting in a mystical chalk circle right now and Rex Mohs was about to cast a spell on him. He wove his fingers through his toes nervously. Too late to bail now.

Concentrating fiercely, Rex scowled at the opposite wall before raising his pointer fingers to the sides of his skull dramatically.

Scott jumped as an eerie wind picked up in the room that was in the basement of the house. A shiver ran down his spine. All of the candles were extinguished.

Scott blinked up at the ceiling.

Huh?

He sat up, clutching his head. When had he started laying down...?

Rex was squatting at the edge of the circle, peering at him. “You good?” He asked hesitantly.

Scott frowned. “Um... I think so?”

Rex scribbled something down in his notes. “...Feel any different?”

He thought for a moment. It didn’t seem like anything had changed. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “Do I look different or something?” He inspected the backs of his hands.

Rex just hummed curiously, not answering. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, then!” He announced, flicking his notes closed and beginning to tidy up the candles.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “What, that’s it?”

Rex nodded cheerfully. “Yup! Hopefully you don’t die or anythin’, you know how meddling with the dark arts goes,” he shook his head like a disapproving parent.

“And you don’t need to... do anything else?”

“Nope!”

Scott stared at the other man as he casually began to wipe away the chalk. He stood up carefully, moving aside so that Rex could put the rug back.

“Okay, then...” Scott mumbled. He looked at his hands again. What had changed? Something had definitely happened. But what?

Scott was still uneasy when he swapped back home. It had been too normal. The same as always. If Rex’s work had done anything, he hadn’t noticed it at all.

The same spin, the same stumble. Scott sighed. What a waste of time.

PART 27: I’M FLAILING

Scott struggles.

Following Scott’s concerns about the lack of results, Rex cheerfully met with him during the next swap, and recommended that Scott try out what he considered a ‘classic move’.

Solo meditation.

“If this doesn’t work, then I got no f*ckin’ clue,” he’d shrugged, handing Scott a copy of ‘Meditating For Dummies’, which he had pulled from out of seemingly nowhere.

Raising an eyebrow, Scott accepted the book and decided that he should skim through it as soon as he could. Y’know, in case he swapped again.

“So what’s this meant to do?” He asked hesitantly.

Rex tapped at his chin. “Oh, you know... channelin’ yourself and all that. Easy peasy, right?”

“You’re the expert...” Scott murmured, glancing over the back cover.

Rex clapped him on the shoulder. “Not really, but sure!”

Scott stood now in his desk room, scanning the interior from the doorway. He could finally place that weird feeling from before—when he’d been inspecting the room after Rex’s cult redecoration; it was just that he was becoming so used to seeing the room without any... equipment. Huh...

He shook his head, making his way inside fully.

Rex had spoken about this room being where their ‘connection’ was ‘stronger’, right? So this was presumably where he was gonna have to try this meditation business.

Once again, Scott found himself cross-legged on the floor in front of the desk. An apple-scented candle lit only a few inches away from his foot produced wisps of sweet smoke, and its flickering flame was the only light source keeping him company.

“Just need to relax,” he whispered to himself, shaking out his hands.

Next, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to clear his brain of any thinking.

Scott waited patiently for... something, listening to the quiet until he could swear that he could hear the power buzzing through the cables inside his walls. His eyes stayed closed.

And then it happened.

Electricity gently traveled down his spine, making him shiver as it made its way into his fingers, causing them to tingle. It made the nerve in his elbow itchy.

Scott felt the impulse to raise his arm into a handshake.

And to his surprise, he felt a hand grasp it back.

Shocked, his eyes finally snapped open, but it was all black. Panicking, Scott whipped his head around, but saw nothing. Void, void, void.

He spun back forwards, his arm still outstretched. What was holding his hand?

As if materialized by the question, the space in front of him shimmered, and a man appeared.

The spitting image of himself.

Wait. No...

“You!” The man gasped.

It was Woz.

“You!” Scott returned.

Woz opened his mouth, but didn’t get the chance to speak; Scott had tried to snatch his hand back, but as soon as the physical connection between the two had broken, it was like a firework had exploded in his brain.

Too fast.

Too fast, images were flashing through his eyes and through his brain. Noises and sounds, loud and sudden, throwing themselves at his eardrums. Thousands of moments traveling through his psyche faster than the beat of his erratically pounding heart.

VHS tapes and denim and too many colors and concerning amounts of blood and his friends crying, yelling, smiling and flashy outfits and a variety of animals and fields and more fancy clothes and crystals and cameras and blue and more blue and

Scott sat up and vomited.

***

He started to avoid the desk room.

***

Sam had begun to mutter about Gex under his breath. That was the final straw. It was all he needed.

“Guys, I need to talk to you,” Scott demanded.

Understandably confused, the other three men sat up on the couch, giving him their full attention.

“What’s up?” Eric asked, tossing the TV remote aside, leaving the screen waiting on the movie selection menu.

Scott sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “I had a suspicion, and I felt bad about bringing it up... but I can’t just keep ignoring it any more.”

His pinched fingers moved into a hand to scrub over his face as Sam, Dominic and Eric stayed quiet. Scott sighed again. “Have you guys been swapping too?”

Dominic’s eyebrows shot up like they were spring-loaded, and the same went for the other two.

“What?” Sam spat out.

Scott waved his arms in frustration. “I just noticed! You guys haven’t been acting right and I thought—maybe you’ve been swapping too...? Argh—just forget it!”

“No, no,” Sam held his hands up. “I’m hearing you out. I’m just... that’s a big revelation.”

“That’s if I’m right...” Scott mumbled.

“Swapping... well, I don’t think I’ve swapped,” Eric racked his memory. “I know I kinda wanted to meet Rex and Jeb, y’know, but it hasn’t happened yet. I also know I probably shouldn’t say ‘yet’.”

Dominic scratched at his neck. “Same. I don’t remember anything like that.”

Sam shook his head. “Me too. You just wake up in the other reality, right? Or... not wake up. Like... you blink and you’re there?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah and you’re all right. But—you say you don’t remember. Wasn’t the first step for me, not remembering?” He emphasized his point by raising his palms.

His friends stared. “That’s right...” Sam said softly.

“And it’s not even that,” Scott continued. “Because my main point is literally just the fact that you guys keep—you keep saying shit that your characters would say! I thought you guys were messing with me!”

At this revelation, they all shared looks with each other.

“What kind of things?” Sam immediately asked.

Scott drooped. “You already know,” he grumbled. “Fucking Gex. Because of course it would be that.”

He pointed to Dominic. “And for you, you keep talking about work. But also like... way too enthusiastically,” his finger moved to Eric. “And you were talking about chaperoning I guess... which I thought was a joke—but also just... mainly just the way you keep speaking? I can’t really describe it,” he shook his hands in frustration. “But just trust me! I wouldn’t bring this up if I wasn’t worried about it.”

Dominic nodded slowly. “I see. Well... wasn’t that a thing that was happening to you as well? Saying stuff... ‘in character’?”

“Yes.”

There was silence as the group thought about Scott’s news. This changed things.

Scott laughed lightly suddenly, catching the attention of the others. “You know, I’m not even sure when I started noticing the border...”

“The border?” Eric quizzed. “What, you mean you can see it now?” His eyes were wide.

Scott nodded solemnly. But then he shook his head sadly. “Nothin’ I can do about it though. Since Rex’s thing didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work?” Dominic spoke gently.

Scott pressed his palms into his eyes. “No. It didn’t work.”

He didn’t even want to talk about his own experiment afterwards.

Sam patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. “What can we do for you?”

“I’d rather we just... ignore it,” he admitted. “Let’s just watch a movie. I think I’ll end the night early and head to sleep early.”

“That’s fine; we can do that,” Dominic reassured.

Scott’s depressed mood weighed over his heart like a thick blanket, which also served to smother the general atmosphere of the get-together. It seemed like not even one of them was fully paying attention to the movie, thanks to the constant glances they were sparing towards Scott.

It was way too quiet. Too awkward with the lack of the usual goofy commentary that went alongside a movie night.

Until an hour into the movie, Scott sat back in his seat with a drawn-out groan.

“You alright?” Dominic immediately looked over at him.

“I’m just—I’m just not feeling too good right now,” he sighed, rubbing at his temple.

“Do you need something?”

Scott waved off the concern, standing up from his seat. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I need some water. Keep going without me.”

He wobbled, dodging around legs to make his way around the couch.

The man stood still.

“...Scott?”

Scott’s expression flickered rapidly, each muscle in his face twitching as his eyes shook.

Assuming he was having a seizure standing there, Dominic darted forwards just in time, catching him right as his legs gave out and he began to fall to the floor.

“SHIT! Guys—help me—!” He called out, already throwing his hoodie off to use as a head cushion.

Before he could continue helping, he froze as he spotted the blue leaking from Scott’s nose.

“I-Is that... blood? I don’t know what to do about this. That’s not natural,” he stuttered.

Scott clenched his eyes shut and tensed up, balling his hands into fists but still continuing to shake rapidly.

“Is it a seizure?” Sam asked, panicking.

“STOP SCREAMING! STOP! STOP! STOP!” Scott shrieked, curling in on himself.

The room was stunned into silence.

Dominic gently reached out but Scott clapped his hands to his head, fiercely gripping his hair. “STOP SCREAMING!”

He went limp. The other three in the room crowded around him.

Suddenly, his body snapped to attention, his eyes blowing wide open. The man panted as he sat up and scurried backwards with his hands until his spine hit the couch.

“Whoah! Whoah!” Eric softened his voice and held up his hands. “What’s going on?”

The bespectacled man’s chest was heaving so violently now. He swiped a hand under his nose, spotting the blue on his knuckles. He began to retch.

“SCOTT! Scott! What’s going on? Are you alright? Can you respond?” Sam pressed.

Scott went limp again for a second before swiftly righting himself.

He gagged and began opening and closing his mouth a few times, attempting to speak. “Sorry guys I don’t know what’s happening,” he choked out.

Before the others could even try to speak, he continued. “What? I thought I was here...?” He blinked. “What? What? What is this?!”

Dominic frowned.

Scott shook his head. “Wait. No way. Is that you...? Yes! It’s Me! That’s confusing... Oh, you think it’s confusing?! How do you think I feel?! Confused, probably. Well duh!”

Eric, Sam and Dominic all stared at him, utterly bewildered.

Scott suddenly slapped himself in the face. He scowled at the hand. “Hey! Well you’re concerning the guys... I’m not concerning them—I’m not doing anything! Yeah you are... I’m not!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Dominic yelled, silencing them all. He pointed straight at Scott. “Explain,” he demanded.

“Hey all, Scott here!” He waved, arm snapping into the usual movement. However—“Don’t make me do that, it’s weird...” he complained to himself.

“Don’t fucking tell me,” Sam said, a hand covering his shocked face. “Are you both here?!”

“Right on the money, Sam, my man!” Scott grinned right before grimacing. “Ew. Don’t do that. ...Sorry.”

Eric pressed his fingers against his head. “Wait wait wait—so who’s in... ‘control’ right now?”

“Both of us, I think. Oh that’s weird.”

“But—the seizure?!”

“That was fucking crazy, yeah. Yeah, that was kinda f*cked up. I know, right? It kind of felt like... I don’t even know. Like everything was just breaking and collapsing and shit. And that I was right in the middle of it. Same!”

“The hell caused you to have a magic seizure...?” Dominic asked, stunned.

“Well I wasn’t doing anything, if you must know. I was minding my own business and now I am not. Because now I am in your business.”

Scott tried to frown and grin at the same time, making it look like he was just having a facial spasm.

“Nuh uh. Don’t like that,” Eric announced. “Please separate.”

“Is this, like, a failed swap...?” Sam thought. “If Scott was supposed to swap with Woz but he didn’t make it and now they’re both here... who’s taking Woz’s place?”

Scott’s face fell. “Man. That is not good.”

He blinked in confusion. “Why—why were you on a ladder?” He pouted and looked away. “Well, I didn’t know I was gonna swap. Also—stop looking in my brain!”

Scott waved his arms around. “You are literally in my head right now! Don’t complain at me!”

Dominic raised his eyebrows. “So it’s two of you in the same brain? Are you like... fighting over the central nervous system or something?”

“We should try walking!” Scott cheered. “Ah—no, I would rather not,” he shook his head slowly.

He smirked and suddenly stood up. “No—! Oh, come on...” his left leg lagged behind and he flailed one arm.

“I’d almost say it was like a stroke,” Sam pointed out. “You saw that, right?”

Scott winced. “Doing more than just sitting down is making it very right-side-vs-left-side at the moment, yeah.”

His expression hardened. “Actually—no—I am not feeling well right now.”

Scott stumbled backwards, hitting the couch with the backs of his legs and falling onto the seat.

Dominic reached out but aborted the motion. “Are you gonna have another seizure?”

“I-I don’t know...” Scott muttered, holding his forehead in one hand. “Um...”

It felt like his brain was splitting at the seams.

“I don’t think brains were meant to be abused like this...” he grunted. He tried to stand up again.

Scott clutched at his chest. It felt like his rib cage was rolling, his heart seemed like it was shivering. Each beat sent a bolt of pain between his brain and the heart, like a string threaded through each organ. He winced.

The echo of Woz’s voice in his head, which had just a minute ago been as clear as his own subconscious in his brain, had suddenly become distant. But it was still there... somewhere...

If he just pulled the thread—

Something felt like it snapped.

He gasped as his vision went white. Scott felt burning pain down the entire right side of himself before suddenly it felt like he was being dragged towards that side. He fought back.

Desperately, he pulled to his left, no longer certain what was happening in his head and what was happening with his body. Something was tearing, everything was spinning.

And then it wasn’t.

With the resistance suddenly gone, Scott tumbled over, hitting his ribs awkwardly against the side of the couch with an ‘oof’. Dizzy, he held his head.

“What the fuck just happened?” He wheezed.

Glancing to the rest of the room, he froze, speechless.

Everyone was looking in the same place.

There was another man laying on the floor in front of the couch.

PART 28: I’M SEEING DOUBLE

Scott and Woz.

Awkwardly, the new man in the room heaved himself up with a grunt, staring wide-eyed back at his observers. “Umm...”

Scott gaped. “What?” He finally managed to struggle out.

The other man’s head snapped over to him. “...Oh.”

There was tension in the room.

Eric spoke up. “...Two Scotts...?”

There were two of them.

Scott was staring wide-eyed at a clone of himself. Like a mirror. Because the other one was staring wide-eyed back—with the same blue eyes.

In unison, they rose to their feet, not breaking the staring contest.

Dominic scratched at his arm nervously. “Well, we finally started to assume we knew what was ‘normal’. Of course something was bound to happen to change that...”

This was too weird, they all thought.

At first glance, both men appeared to be identical. Which would make sense.

While both had the same fresh blue smear under their noses, upon closer inspection, there were a few differences.

The Scott on the left ran a hand through his hair, which was slightly longer and more fluffed up. The one on the right had shorter hair; more recently cut. There was a twinkle in his eye and he just looked like he was about to start grinning, where the left Scott seemed ready to start frowning—he already kind of was.

Both had a twitch in their fingers. But Scott on the left was twitching to worry his hands together—Scott on the right just had a lot of energy to spare. But most obviously, they were just wearing different outfits.

“I don’t think I have the capacity to feel surprised anymore,” left-Scott mumbled.

“Well it’s not hard to tell them apart,” Eric pointed out, gesturing to the left. “Scott,” he gestured to the right. “And Woz.”

“But where’s ‘The’? Does he stand in the middle of us?” Woz joked.

“No. No,” Scott held up a hand, pressing his other palm to his forehead. “Don’t. Just... don’t start.”

“You’re both here,” Sam had snapped himself out of his surprised silence. “Was this... did Rex do this?”

“Who fucking knows at this point!” Scott raised his arms into the air, aggravated. He winced as the motion pulled at his sore ribs.

Woz noticed. “Are you alright?” He stepped towards Scott in concern.

Scott shot his arm out, halting the other man. “I’m fine! I’m fine,” he spat. “Ugh.”

“Are you really?” Dominic shook his head, scurrying over to forcefully push Scott down to sit on the couch. “Stay still,” he demanded.

Woz peered around the room. “This is funky,” he commented. “Can’t say I expected things to go this way...”

“Same,” Eric nodded. “Wonder how long you’re here for...”

Woz frowned and rubbed at his chin. “Yeah...”

“The sooner you leave, the better,” Scott said, before wincing and looking away awkwardly.

Sam sighed. “You could get along with each other if you actually tried, y’know?” He commented.

Scott snapped his head to stare directly at him following his familiar words. He raised a questioning eyebrow in return, but Scott didn’t explain himself.

“I’d rather just find a way to get home quickly, if that’s okay,” Woz shuffled nervously. “This is a bit much for me.”

“Well, if we don’t think it was Rex’s stuff that caused this, then what was it?” Dominic huffed, thinking.

Scott groaned, placing his head in his hands. “I think it was me.”

The others in the room waited with curious expressions for him to elaborate.

“After Rex’s stuff didn’t work... or, well, after I assumed it hadn’t worked... I got back and tried something else he recommended,” he shook his head. “Anyway, I kinda blacked out or whatever, but I saw him,” he pointed at Woz. “And... other stuff...”

“Wait!” The accused gasped. “That was you! That was real?!”

“Yeah! You were gonna speak to me!”

“Well I just thought—Well, I was confused! One minute I was doing my own thing and the next I felt like wandering over to my desk and then that happened. And I saw all that... weird sh*t...” He puffed out some air. “So you have time to go to the White House but no time to spend on fixing our problem or to work on literally writing my life...”

Scott was baffled. “I didn’t go to the White House. There’s that recreation one in Michigan. But I haven’t been there either.”

“I saw you—! Well, I saw your perspective from the table. There was someone taking a photo of you.”

Scott stared at him. Was there... another Scott out there? Doing his own thing? How many were there...?

The three others looked between the pair, completely out of the loop.

“Hello? Context?” Sam asked.

“Basically Rex’s whole thing was just that the desk room is apparently some kind of... magical center. Earlier, me and Woz kinda... connected in there.”

“And you didn’t mention this... why?”

Scott looked away. “I just... didn’t think to,” he mumbled. “But anyway, I’ve mentioned it now. It’s not important anymore. The point is... maybe that connection... caused something. I dunno.”

“Jesus Christ, Scott...” Dominic sighed.

Eric clapped his hands together. “Looks like we’re moving rooms, guys.” He led the way.

Scott hung back for a moment, curling his lip as he watched Woz move. It was downright unnatural. Especially the way his brain was picking up the fact that he was watching a near mirror of his own gait.

Shuffling into the blue-walled room, apparently he hadn’t managed to wipe the disgusted expression from his face.

“Seriously?” Eric sighed. “C’mon, Scott.”

“Why are you all picking on me?!” Scott defended. “Sorry that I don’t like the idea of my fake twin brother wandering around my house.”

Woz’s face twitched into a sad frown.

Eric shook his head. “No, but you haven’t given him a break since... I don’t even know. So I can say, why are you always picking on him?”

“I’m not!”

“Sure...” Eric said, disbelieving.

Sam placed his hands on his hips. “What happened to all the blaming him for your death, then, huh?”

Woz scowled. “Are you still not over that?! That wasn’t my fault!”

Scott straightened up. “Uh, yes! It kinda was, actually!”

“Why do we always bring this back to the deaths?” Dominic complained. “I feel like every single one of your arguments is just because someone brought up a death. Can we not just resolve this?”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Deaths... plural?” He shook his head. “I haven’t been responsible for any deaths. I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Yeah. Wendy’s Employee counts, you know,” Dominic frowned at him. “You’re just as guilty as who you’re accusing.”

“Wh—huh?! That was—that’s an episode! That was just a bit in an episode that I wrote! I didn’t—I didn’t stab the guy myself!”

Sam shook his head. “I dunno... you might as well have...”

“Wait a minute,” Woz spoke quietly. The fury simmering beneath his voice cut through the room, silencing everyone. “You... you killed Wendy’s Employee. That was your fault.”

“...What?”

“You killed him! You killed him!” He was yelling now. “How did I not see that before?! It was you! Your fault!”

“But—how was I supposed to know he was... real? He isn’t supposed to be real!”

Woz scoffed viciously. “Oh, it’s always the excuses with you, isn’t it? Can’t just own up to it.” His eyes locked onto Scott. “Yeah. You know what? If you really think it was me, then I’m glad I got you killed. Get a taste of your own medicine.”

Scott gaped at him. “What?! You can’t just say that!”

“Can’t I? You say the cruelest sh*t to me, but when I hit you with something back, suddenly it’s not okay?!”

“You said I needed to get over dying.”

“I said it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t.”

Sam cut in. “He wasn’t trying to kill you, Scott.”

“Stay out of this,” Scott snapped at him.

Woz laughed. “See? You’re such an asshole. Now you’re snapping at your friends too. Was threatening me and my friends not enough?”

Eric startled. “You threatened his friends?!”

“I did not!” Scott yelled hysterically. “I threatened him!” He pointed accusingly.

“Oh, so you’ll admit that? What did I do for you to decide that threatening me was okay?! And don’t say ‘wahh he killed me’ again because that WASN’T MY FAULT!”

Scott didn’t respond. He stood in the center of the room, his clenched hands shaking in anger by his sides and eyebrows cutting at almost a diagonal angle on his forehead.

“You son of a bitch,” he spat.

Woz stood opposite him, matching his glare. “Say that again.”

Scott did not repeat himself.

He tackled the other man.

PART 29: I’M AT THE END (OR IS IT THE BEGINNING?)

The fight. The consequences.

“Whoa, whoa!” Dominic yelped. “Guys, stop!” He stepped forwards with the goal to split them up, but the two were already rolling on the floor.

“Jesus!” Eric exclaimed. “Scott—what the fuck are you doing?!”

The two split apart briefly and the other three attempted to take their opportunity to break up the fight.

Eric hoisted Scott up by his armpits, who protested by kicking backwards angrily.

Eric shuffled back, alarmed. “Dude! Fucking chill!”

Sam was holding Woz by the wrists, though he didn’t fight against the restraint. “Oh, real mature!” He jeered. “Resorting to attacking me!”

Scott flailed. “Shut the fuck up!”

Sam dragged Woz further back. “Don’t antagonize him,” he scolded.

“You two both need to calm down!” Dominic frowned. “You are both adults. Act like it.”

“I’m not the asshole who thinks he’s an untouchable king of the world,” Woz spat.

Scott’s ears were ringing. Jeb’s words from what seemed like an eternity ago rang through his head.

So, what’s your big plan, Mr. Smart Guy? Or have you forgotten that you’re not a god?

Scott’s heel connected sharply with Eric’s knee at a painful angle, allowing him to escape. He moved quickly.

Sam barely managed to get out of the way as Scott grabbed his target and sent the pair of them falling into the desk chair, which rolled away pitifully.

Both fought dirty, punching and kicking and scratching at each other where it hurt.

Eric stepped forwards, hand outstretched, intending on separating the two before it got too serious. But he stepped back suddenly, a wave of dizziness washing over him and forcing him to retreat.

Blue dripped from his nose. Eyes wide, he wiped at it with his hand, accidentally smearing it into his mustache, and stared at the pigment on his fingertips.

A sharp sound brought his attention back as Scott continued to wrestle with Woz, the former’s back colliding harshly with the desk before he slid to the floor. The others winced, and Sam stepped forwards, too.

Eric held him back. “No! Don’t! Something’s not right.”

Sam stared dumbfounded at him. “Not right?! They’re gonna hurt each other!”

Eric waved his stained hand at him. “Look! Look at this! This is a bad sign!”

Scott yelled angrily as he shoved Woz away, grabbing at his ankles. Woz stumbled back, kicking Scott in the jaw.

Sam moved and Eric stopped him again.

“Eric! Look at them!” He pleaded.

Dominic bit his lip, conflicted, before deciding to make his move.

“No!” Eric yelped.

Dominic dodged his arm, almost managing to brush Woz’s shoulder with a hand. He fell. Like a limp body.

Woz jumped out of the way of the falling man, using his open opportunity to run out of the desk room.

Scott growled.

He scrambled to his feet and sprinted after the fleeing man.

Eric and Sam quickly moved backwards as the two of them passed, feeling the vertigo hit them like an area effect bubble.

Sam stared at him with his mouth agape and Eric watched the droplet of blue start to pour out from one of his nostrils.

“What the fuck,” Sam whispered, gently touching it.

Crashing came from outside the room, stirring them into action.

“Check on Dom—I gotta go,” Eric rushed out, already moving towards the doorway.

He looked around, immediately spotting the two by the couch. Woz was laying on the floor at one end of the coffee table, his legs sticking up and against the side, as if he’d been slid across it. Scott was standing at the other end, looming menacingly with his hands like claws.

Woz moved suddenly, pushing the table so that it slammed into Scott’s legs, making him fall back from the hit to his shins.

Eric could only watch. He didn’t know what his plan was gonna be when he ran in here—he couldn’t even intervene!

Woz flipped onto his knees, about to crawl away, but Scott recovered too quickly—the rug had stopped the table from hitting him properly. Scott moved around the coffee table and soon the two were wrestling again.

“Guys! Stop! STOP!”

Shuffling coming from behind him caught his attention and he turned around. Sam and Dominic were hobbling into the room, Sam’s arm slung around the other’s shoulders as Dominic leaned heavily on him. The winded man’s eyes drooped and most of the lower half of his face was smeared with the blue blood.

Sam was shaking his head. “We can’t go near them,” he worried. “They won’t listen and they won’t stop.”

Eric’s heart was pounding. Sam couldn’t look away. Dominic froze up.

Scott had gained the upper hand, pinning Woz on the floor. His hands reached around the other’s neck.

Electricity crackled through his brain like a broken cable. The other man’s heart pulsed rapidly beneath his clenched fingers. Ringing permeated his head, drowning out the panicked shrieks coming from the others in the room.

Everything was spinning.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was all too quick to tell what happened next. Skull connected to floor with a sickening crack. And...

Woz blinked down at the limp body in his hands.

***

Scott was floating. Everything was hazy... it all looked soft around the edges. Fuzzy. Comfortable...

He couldn’t quite... hear anything. No—it was more like... he just knew there was sound. Like hallucinating when you were also six feet underwater.

No. Wait. He could hear... ringing. High-pitched and whining.

His vision sharpened. Blobs of vague color were now taking shape.

A scene was forming before him, that he was looking over. He could see... himself.

...And himself.

What?

There were... two of him. He could see himself on the floor, laying there. Motionless. But he could also see someone leaning over him, in distress. That someone was also him.

The last of the fuzziness snapped away and it all came crashing back. Nausea rose up within him.

If he was looking down at... and the other guy was Woz... that meant...

From his vantage point above it all, he looked down slowly. Not at the body, or the man.

At his translucent hands.

Blue-y... purple? Translucent.

Ghostly.

He choked. The noise echoed unnaturally.

That’s why he was floating.

His eyes caught the sight of one of the other guys slowly approaching, tentative. Eric.

Eric reached out, gently placing his hand on Woz’s shoulder. At the touch, he spun around and leaped up, falling into Eric’s arms. Surprised, Eric stumbled back, clearly not prepared to be jumped on like that.

The sound of the people right there in front of him seemed so far away. He frowned—he wanted to know what they were saying. Woz was talking fast. Eric spoke slowly.

Quickly, the other two approached from the edge of the room. They talked to Eric, who glanced towards them with a look in his eyes that said everything. Sam stared at the body.

Scott inspected himself again. The edge of his form was unclear. It looked like a VHS filter—the red and blue channels bleeding, overall kind of staticky.

So he was dead, right?

Not many people could say that they’d died twice, he supposed. This second time was weird though; last time, he’d just experienced some hazy... stuff, then been unconscious and then woken up in the hospital. Now... Well, he was getting the full ghost experience.

That was a little concerning.

Although, he was confused... he was Scott and he was dead. But the Scott laying on the floor was Woz. He’d been in Woz's body when he died. The Scott currently sobbing was Woz. Woz was still alive. Both of them were in Scott’s reality.

This was... messy. What reality’s laws were applying here?

Movement brought his attention back. Eric was slowly pulling Woz away, nudging him towards the stairs. Scott panicked. They weren’t just leaving him, right?

But—why wouldn’t they leave him? He was dead. People didn’t recover from death in this world.

...But they did recover from death in Scott The Woz.

Call him crazy, but he had an idea. A stupid idea. One that probably would not work.

Especially since step one required that he talk to the guys. Except he was a ghost. And he was still floating.

He kicked at the air, trying to move—how did they do this in movies? They swam right?

Scott flailed his arms and legs, trying to make the movements to bring him away from the ceiling and down to the floor, where he wanted to be. Slowly but surely, he edged closer to the ground.

His brain told him that he was exhausted by the repetitive motions. But his body felt nothing. Spirits didn’t get tired.

Scott shivered.

By now, he was the only one left in the room—even including the dead body. Ha ha.

He avoided looking at the head. He didn’t want to see that mess. Didn’t want to see the blank eyes; no soul behind them. He was the soul that was supposed to be behind them. Had anyone even closed his eyelids for him?

Hesitantly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against his still chest. He felt the connection. A hazy solidness.

Scott pressed a little more, the tips of his fingers vanishing. He looked away.

But he felt something. There was something there. An energy? God, he hoped he was reading all of this accurately.

There was... ‘energy’ in the body. Hope stirred within him. His plan could work. Just maybe.

Retracting his hand and turning to the basement stairs, Scott flexed his fingers in anticipation.

That movie-like sense of magnetism that he’d kinda been expecting hadn’t been there—he wasn’t just some soul on his way back to its vessel. It wasn’t even his body in the first place.

He hoped this would work.

He really hoped this would work.

PART 30: I HEAR AN ECHO

Scott ghosts.

Scott emerged from the top of the staircase, just as Dominic was setting aside a stained hand towel and a bowl of cloudy water. Scott stared at the smudges of both blue and red that were covering the material.

The group had settled on the upstairs couch—although, ‘settled’ would imply that they were comfortable. No—it was tense. So tense.

Each one of them were barely seated; just perching on the edge of the couch, eager to get away but still too deep in shock to do anything but sit around. Dominic had placed himself tentatively beside Woz, seeing an opportunity to busy himself by cleaning the other man up.

“Did I already get it all?” Dominic asked, gently grabbing Woz’s face so that he could tilt it upwards and check for any remaining dried blood around his nose, red or otherwise. His own face still had remnants of the blue blood that had coated it; not properly wiped away in favor of dedicating more of his time to the distressed Woz.

Scott sighed in relief. He could hear the still-alive people properly now.

“Thanks,” Woz murmured, voice empty. He quickly returned to staring at his clean hands, as he had been doing before. Dominic moved on to inspecting the scratches that had broken skin.

Silence dragged out. It was deafening. No one wanted to speak. What would they even say? There was a corpse in the basement.

Scott swallowed thickly and looked over at Sam. It became just a glance, however, as the blank look on Sam’s face while he stared at the opposite wall was deeply unsettling to him.

Eric was moving, at least; constantly in the motion of wringing his hands with his elbows leaning on his knees.

No time to waste.

Scott placed himself carefully beside Eric and reached out to him, trying to get his attention by waving in his face. Nothing.

Eric shifted and the ghostly hand passed through his friend’s nose. Scott flinched back.

Zero reaction. Not a single hair on his head had even shifted from the movement.

Scott stressed, running his fingers through his own hair until it was standing upright. This had to work. He had no backup plan.

Just try again.

Scott breathed out slowly, trying to focus. If he could just get that concentration that he’d had when he was inspecting the body... maybe he could interact...?

Scrunching his eyes closed so hard it almost felt like it hurt, Scott reached out his hand one more time.

The sensation of fabric brushed his fingertips. His eyes snapped open, just for the feeling to vanish and to see his fingers swim through Eric’s arm.

But Eric frowned. And he rubbed the spot on his arm.

Success.

He tried again.

Scott watched mournfully as his hand passed right through the shoulder he’d been aiming for, unable to resummon that focus from before.

“...Scott?”

The man in question snapped his head to the source of the voice, meeting the wide-eyed gaze of Woz...

Who was staring right at him.

Scott stood up in shock.

Woz frowned and stood up too... but now he was looking around. “Scott?” He mumbled.

Scott’s heart sank. He hadn’t seen him.

The other three in the room gawked at Woz.

“He’s not here,” Sam whispered, voice straining.

“No,” Woz shook his head vehemently. “No, no. He was there,” his voice raised slightly in volume as he pointed fiercely at Eric.

Scott’s jaw dropped. Although he was invisible to all their eyes, the accusing finger was currently pointed straight at him. He had seen! He’d been seen!

“HEY! HEY! You’re right! I’m here!” He waved his arms up high, hoping movement would make him more visible.

Dominic stared at Woz. “What... do you mean?”

“I saw him there! By Eric!”

Eric’s brow was firmly furrowed. “What was he doing?”

“His hand was... hovering over your shoulder. Like he was going to slap you.”

“I was not gonna slap him!” Scott protested, putting his hands on his hips. “I was trying to jab at him with my hand. And it didn’t really work...”

“My shoulder...?” Eric asked, looking at the spot on his arm where he’d felt that strange feeling just a minute ago.

“Stop.” Sam stood up. “Just stop,” he choked out.

“I really mean it!” Woz reassured him. “I wouldn’t just say that. I wouldn’t!”

“Are you really trying to convince me that you saw Scott’s—that you saw Scott’s ghost?” He was mad now. “That’s messed up. That’s so messed up.”

Woz floundered for a response. “But—I promise!”

Sam covered his face with his hands, staying quiet.

“I saw Scott’s ghost,” Woz said firmly, making eye contact with each of the guys. Sam fell back into his seat.

Scott skipped forwards to stand directly in front of Woz, hoping for a reaction. Instead, Woz began to look around the room.

“Scott? Are you still in here? Can you show yourself again?”

“I would if I could!” Scott cried. “I’m trying!”

Suddenly, Scott gasped as Dominic stepped through him. He hadn’t even seen the man stand up. He felt a little ill.

“Just... sit down for a moment,” Dominic held his hands up in front of Woz, who was becoming more frantic. “Just hold on.”

“Why can’t I see him?!” Woz croaked out. “Where did he go?!”

He was crying now, letting the dam burst. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t want this to happen! Why did this have to happen?!” He sobbed. “Please! I’m so sorry. Please come back... Please...”

Woz fell to his knees.

“I didn’t want to kill you!” He wailed.

Scott was angry. He was dead and invisible and—

He marched over to Woz and clipped him lightly around the head.

“It wasn’t your fault, you idiot!”

The room was silent.

“It was my fault!” Scott kept going. “It was all my fault! I was a prick! I never gave you a chance! I only even started to forgive you after everything had started to affect me too much. I’m fucking selfish! An asshole!” He paced back and forth, but was immediately frustrated by the lack of contact between his feet and the floor. “You gave me so many chances. You tried. And I didn’t. I shot you down and I kept shooting. I didn’t care—I was just thinking about me and my stupid little world.”

He turned, locking eyes with the man on the floor. “I killed you. It’s my fault. I deserved it all. And I’m sorry.”

Wait.

Scott stumbled back.

They had been locking eyes.

Woz blinked slowly. “Scott.”

Immediately, Sam, Eric and Dominic snapped their eyes to the spot where Woz’s gaze was currently focused.

“He’s there?” Eric asked hesitantly.

Shakily, Woz raised his hand to point. “He’s there.”

“You see me!” Scott yelped. Woz flinched back.

“Was that him messing with your hair?” Dominic raised his eyebrows. “I saw that!”

“Dom! Can you hear me?!” Scott asked desperately, breaking his staring contest with Woz to wave enthusiastically in his friend’s face. He got no response.

“I don’t think he can hear you, Scott...” Woz mumbled.

Dominic caught the quiet comment, and frowned between Woz still on the floor and the place he’d just pointed at, missing looking where Scott’s face actually was by just an inch. “Huh? Is he speaking? What’s he saying?”

“Excuse me,” Sam rushed out, suddenly standing and exiting the room at a near sprint.

Eric stood to follow, but Dominic shook his head.

“Ah, shit...” Scott murmured.

Eric rubbed at his temples. “You’re not pulling our legs?” he asked seriously. “He’s a ghost? That only you can see?”

Woz shook his head so fast it looked like his neck slipped. Finally, he picked himself off the floor. “No, I’m serious. I can see him standing there. And he’s talking to me.”

“They can’t see me...” Scott looked at them sadly.

“No, they can’t. But I can.”

“You can.”

Scott sighed. Slowly, his eyes sparked to life. “You can,” he repeated. “You can! This can still work!”

“What can still work?”

“I have a plan! It’s fucking stupid but now it can work!”

Dominic kept glancing at the empty air and Woz. “What is he saying to you?!” He asked again.

“He says he has a plan. But he also said it’s fucking stupid—” He clapped a hand over his mouth.

It took a moment for the others to pick up on what had happened.

“Wait, hang on—” Eric spluttered.

Scott raised an unseen eyebrow. “Wait—but I’m not... Shit, fuck, fuck, pussy—what? We’re both not getting bleeped?”

Eyes as wide as saucers, Woz slowly lowered his hands from his mouth. “Shit,” he spoke slowly.

Urgently, he looked between the three of them. “How’s that happening?!” He cried.

“It’s the blending between realities,” Scott stated with certainty. That had been his new theory before now, but these latest developments were just confirming it. “That’s why I’m a ghost. I’m sure of it.”

“The realities are blending?! Oh no... oh, no, no, no...”

Eric ran a hand through his hair stressfully. “Is that what Scott thinks? Shit...”

Woz copied the hand-comb, nodding. “He says that’s why... he’s a ghost.”

Dominic snapped his fingers. “I get it. Because... Scott The Woz ghosts. I see it.”

Eric shook his head. “Then why can’t we see him? That’s not how it works.”

“Well, they are the epicenter of all this,” Dominic pointed out. “Maybe as it gets... worse... we’ll start to see Scott again. Maybe.”

“Yeah, yeah, exactly,” Scott nodded, pacing again. “We’re the epicenter, we get the effects first, and it spreads from there as everything blends together more.”

“Uhh... Scott agrees.”

“The Reality Leak,” Scott announced. “It’ll get worse.”

“Until it becomes the... Reality Merge?” Woz asked.

Scott nodded solemnly. “And... I’m not entirely sure how we’re supposed to stop it.”

Woz frowned. “But I thought you had a plan?” He wrung his hands worriedly.

“I kinda do...? But fixing our problem might not fix the problem, you know?”

“Remind Scott that we can’t hear him, please,” Eric sighed.

Scott jumped. “Right! Right. Uhh... first things first, someone needs to get Sam back. I think... all this has been too hard on him.”

“Scott says we need to get Sam.”

Dominic hummed and frowned. “I think he wants to be alone...”

“I think Scott wants to prove he’s still here. And... we’re on a time limit. Clock’s tickin’. He’s gonna miss stuff.”

“I can get him,” Eric offered. “I’ll be back in a minute, alright?”

With just the three of them remaining in the room (one of them invisible), Dominic shuffled. “Does anyone else feel like this is the quiet before the storm...?”

PART 31: I DID WHAT I HAD TO

Death doesn’t stop a spirit from talking.

“Sam?” Eric called out, wandering the halls. “Where’d you go?”

This is why he’d wanted to immediately chase after him. What if he’d fled altogether? Gone home? They hadn’t heard the door open, sure, but they had been a little preoccupied.

“Are you around here?” He tried again, creeping down the hallway towards the bathroom.

Light spilled out from under the door. Occupied.

“Hey,” Eric spoke a little softer, now that he’d found his target. “Do you wanna talk?”

It was quiet for a moment. “Not really,” Sam’s hoarse voice echoed through the wood. “Not really.”

“...Are you sure?” He pressed.

“What is there to even talk about?” Sam sighed. “I’m so lost...”

“I just think talkin’ about it will make ya feel better. At least a little...”

A second passed before the bathroom door he’d been leaning on the wall next to swung open, revealing Sam inside.

Both of them stared at each other, waiting for the other one to say the first word.

Sam leaned against the doorframe and looked away, clearing his throat. “I have known Scott for so long now. Friends since highschool. And then one day, he asks if I wanna help him out with a video project he’s doin’. Yeah, okay. Sure.” He swept his hands down his face, letting one set of pinched fingers linger tiredly on his nose bridge. “And then another day he says to me, ‘wanna help out with my YouTube?’ And... sure. Yeah—yeah I do. I’ll hold the camera for ya, man—no worries!”

Sam sighed deeply and returned his gaze to Eric, who was still listening silently. “And then... and then... we get here. To now. To this. And... all this happening. And what just happened. I just... how can—just how am I meant to deal with this?”

He slid down the doorframe to sit on the floor. Eric copied him, sitting against the wall, looking right over his shoulder to keep watching the other speak.

Sam was quiet for a while before he decided on what he wanted to say. “I watched that longtime friend of mine kill his doppelgänger tonight.”

The air was still with the blunt statement.

“My friend is dead. His body is in the basement of his house. Getting cold. His... ghost is apparently roaming free.” Sam threw his head back against the wood. “It’s not even his body! But at the same time it is! What do we even say to everyone? What do we say to—to whoever we call to get the body out? Who do you even call for that? An ambulance?” He shook his head gently. “What do we say to the ambulance workers? It can’t be the truth. Can’t even tell the truth to his family.”

Eric thought about everything that Sam had said. He wasn’t really sure how to come up with a response, himself. But he hung on to one thing he’d said. “So... do you really believe he’s... still around?”

Sam slumped over. “At this point, not believing in ghosts would be the irrational thing to think.”

The pair settled into quiet again, the atmosphere between them charged with a deep and depressing cloud of sadness and stress.

Eric stood, reaching around the wall quickly to flick off the light, swamping them in relative darkness, before holding out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

Sam peeked up at him, a frown creasing his face. But he accepted the hand and allowed his friend to help pull him to his feet.

***

“We’re back,” Eric called out, Sam trailing behind him with his frown, as they reentered the room.

Unseen to them, Scott whipped around and ceased his pacing with a sigh. “Ah, good. Didn’t scare ‘em off. That’s good. Good.” He continued to bite his lip.

“Everything alright?” Dominic asked.

Sam huffed out a large breath of air. “I guess so. Okay—no, not really. But what else can I do at this point?”

Quietly, the group resettled onto the couch, except for Scott, who awkwardly stood in the center of the room. They all waited for someone else to start the conversation.

Eric took the initiative, coughing. “Well?”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve decided I’m gonna bite. What do I have to lose? Where’s Scott?”

Wordlessly, Woz raised a pointer finger to the ghost, lost in his own thoughts. Sam directed his attention to Scott, the crease in his eyebrows intensifying.

Scott waved tentatively but Sam just shook his head. “So I’m just gonna have to trust you? Alright. Alright... Scott—we need to talk. Later.”

Scott looked away.

“But what’s the plan?” Eric pointed out. “C’mon... Scott, you said you had something.”

Immediately, Scott perked up, splaying out his hands dramatically to his audience. “So... I had a thought—”

“Wait!” Dominic interrupted.

Scott startled—interrupted...?

“Scott, don’t move,” he demanded, quickly standing and peering at him. “I can totally see him. Look! Look—right there,” he pointed.

“Whuh?” Scott said dumbly.

“I don’t see...” Eric squinted.

“Wait, I kinda do,” Sam’s eyes widened. Squinting one eye shut, he held up his finger and traced the outline of where he could see his friend.

Scott’s dead heart fluttered. “You see me?” He squeaked.

“There he is!” Dominic cheered.

“Thank fuck...” Scott sighed. “Weird timing on that.”

“Can you guys hear him?” Eric narrowed his eyes in focus.

Scott hummed before clapping his hands together. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “OHHHH WELL...!” He sang.

Laughing, Eric whooped. “Never was there ever—! Yep, there he is.”

Scott spun in a circle, fist-pumping. “Yes! Yes! This is great!”

“Is it?” Woz cut in, silencing the room.

“What do you mean?” Dominic frowned.

“Well... why can you all see him now?” He looked around at them all. “I’d say that’s a sign of things... getting worse?” He sighed. “Again.”

Scott’s face fell. “Oh.”

“‘As it gets worse we’ll start to see Scott again’,” Dominic quoted himself solemnly.

“Yeah you... you did say that, didn’t you...” Scott mumbled.

Eric scratched at his chin. “You don’t look like how people usually say ghosts look like. You know, on like... ghost hunting shows.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s a Scott The Woz ghost,” Sam pointed out.

Eric hummed. “He doesn’t look like a Scott The Woz ghost.”

Scott just shrugged. “I’m a non-traditional Scott The Woz ghost.”

“But you always do your ghosts, like, just blue and see-through. Not with that weird VHS kinda look.”

Scott shook his head. “Yeah, I noticed that, actually... I was thinking it must be a side effect of the... circumstances.”

He looked over his hands again, frowning at the weird look of it all.

“What about your plan, Scott?” Woz attempted to get them back on track.

“No, wait,” Sam held up his hands. “First of all, I want to know what your deal is.” He shot a dark look towards Scott.

“Wh—my deal?” Scott pointed at himself, confused.

“What do you mean ‘my deal’—you just fucking killed a guy!”

“I—I dunno,” Scott stammered. “One moment I was mad. So mad—like, the angriest I’d ever been... and then I just—I don’t even know. Then it was just... all happening.”

“How can you not know?!”

The words were in his heart and in his head. He knew that he had to confess. But saying it out loud would immediately make it more real.

Scott tugged at his hair stressfully. “I just—I didn’t feel like myself! Alright?” His voice became quiet. “And that scares me.”

Deafening silence filled the room at Scott’s admission.

“I don’t feel like myself anymore,” Scott continued. “I didn’t... even realize. It was like... a gradual change that I wasn’t even noticing. I mean, right now I feel... more like myself. More like myself than I’ve felt in months. But still not... still not... right.”

He hugged his arms around himself, fully feeling that anxiety that he’d been pushing away. “When I come back—if I can even come back... will I still be me? Will I be... different? A different guy? Some other person?” He laughed hopelessly. “I don’t know anymore. Maybe I was doomed from the second my head hit that fucking floor.”

Dominic held out his hand to the other’s shoulder “Scott—”

Scott turned away. “I just—am I even the real Scott? Is there a real Scott...? Am I really... me? Who is Scott? Really? Is there even a way to tell?” Desperately, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I saw so much... so many different versions of me. All doing their own junk. Where’s the evidence that I’m any different to them? Is there just some... original Scott that everyone branches from? What the fuck am I even saying?”

The other guys stayed quiet, letting Scott hysterically pour his heart out.

“Like—like—In real life there aren’t fucking ghosts and magic and characters becoming real! That’s just—it just doesn’t happen! And my plan is to fucking revive myself,” he choked out. “I’m dead. What the fuck?”

Woz stared at him. “So... so you think you can come back? Be revived? Is that what you’re saying?”

Scott nodded. “It’s our only damn shot. But we might have to hurry.”

He was starting to feel really weird. More weird than, say, ten minutes ago. He still didn’t want to admit to this, but he at least had to acknowledge it himself.

“...Because I don’t know how much time we have left.”

PART 32: I'M THREE LARGE FOOTSTEPS AWAY FROM THE GRAVE

Scott doesn’t want to go ‘ka-thunk’ in a casket.

The clock was ticking. Invisible seconds were counting down.

Scott glanced around the room at those assembled, breathing deeply and voice still shaky. “The plan,” he started. “The plan is basic. But the steps are not.”

“How... how do we revive you?” Dominic asked the dreaded question.

Scott grimaced. “Well, how did I recover from death last time? I got hospital treatment.”

“But you can’t get treated for death in your world,” Woz reminded. “So I don’t get it.”

Scott shook his head, but in agreement. “I know. That’s why we get you back home. You and— and your body. To be treated.”

Sam pinched his nose bridge in thought. “But we don’t even know how he got here in the first place! If we don’t know how he got here, then how are we supposed to reverse that and get him back?”

Scott waved his arms, frustrated. “I know! We need to figure it out. But we don’t have time...!”

“So we’re stuck,” Eric stated bluntly.

Scott clapped his hands together determinedly. “But there has to be a way. If it can happen once, it can happen twice. It might even be easier since reality is literally crumbling to pieces around us.”

“We’re not exactly dimensional scientists,” Dominic muttered.

“Dude. I had Rex Mohs draw up a magic circle and cast a spell on me. I think we can get to the bottom of this if we’re fast enough.”

“How are we supposed to get to the hospital, though? In a non-suspicious way,” Sam pointed out.

Woz shuffled. “Well... I should start recovering on my own before we make it to the hospital. But just a little bit. We should be okay for a short while.”

Scott nodded. “Alright. So we’ve got that worked out. Now we just need to... get the body actually over there.”

Woz’s eyes were blown wide. “Do we have to go into the basement? I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can go back down there,” his breathing quickened.

“Hey, hey—it’s alright,” Eric soothed.

“He has to come down with us,” Scott sighed.

Eric slung an arm around Woz to drag the two of them together. “Alright. I got ya. You stick with me, huh?”

Sam was also looking a little pale at the thought. “I just don’t wanna see the fucking body again, man.”

“I get it. I get that,” Scott chewed his lip. “Just—think about it like it’s a prop body or somethin’. Don’t think of it as, like... real. How’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shuddered.

“C’mon.” Dominic nodded firmly, leading the way downstairs and convincing the others to trail after him. “The sooner the better.”

“Do you even need to use the stairs?” Eric muttered to Scott as they took the last step.

Scott frowned, ready to protest.

He heard a sound like a whip crack. He felt lightheaded.

Flashes assaulted his vision.

Green. Rain. Metal. Mud. Boots. Snow. Orange.

Voices overlapped each other and he couldn’t make anything out.

It snapped back, leaving him gasping for unneeded breath.

“Scott? Scott? Are you alright?” Sam’s voice broke through the static coating his brain like a film.

He stumbled, grabbing at the wall, almost phasing through it.

“Uh—uhh—uh, I dunno—” he spluttered. “Weird flashes again. It’s stopped now.” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Are you sure?” Eric asked.

Scott huffed. “Probably not, but we need to hurry up.” He shooed them all onwards, marching ahead and back to the body on the floor.

“What’s the game plan?” Dominic scratched his neck. “Do you remember some of Rex’s magic?”

“Umm... no,” Scott confessed. “I’m really gambling, here.”

“You’re just gonna wait for something to happen?” Sam’s eyebrows jumped up.

“Yep. Wait and hope.”

It must have looked indescribable, to see the five of them standing uncomfortably, in silence, around a literal body that was laying on the floor of this basement.

Nothing was happening...

Scott fidgeted with his blurry hands. “Ummm... maybe if we stand together? Something will... connect?” He looked over at Woz, who was looking a little green in the face.

“What was that whole thing with the... ‘desk room energy’?” Eric asked, frowning.

Scott facepalmed. “Of course. Rex said that was, like, the best place... for magic or something.”

Sam grimaced. “We have to move him into there...?”

Scott smiled uneasily in response.

Eric scrubbed his hands over his face. “Prop body, you said? Prop body.” He sighed and gestured at Dominic to help him. “Prop body...” he repeated.

What a long night, Scott thought, watching the pair of them.

The group shuffled into the blue-walled room, Eric and Dominic leading the way with Woz’s soul-vacant body carried between them. Sam squeezed Woz’s shoulder reassuringly as he passed him.

The duo set the body down gently, with Dominic using his hoodie for the second time that night as a head cushion.

Jesus—this has all happened in just one night...?

Hope renewed for a second attempt, they continued to stand around.

Nothing was happening...

Scott inspected the body. He stood with Woz. He waited. He tried closing his eyes and thinking. He tried spitting out some half-memorized words from Rex.

Nothing. Was. Happening.

“God damnit! This was my one plan!” He yelled suddenly, raising his arms angrily and startling everyone else in the room. “Why can’t it just fucking work?!”

He kicked the shoulder of the body and immediately felt a snap ring through his skull.

Swirls of color blended together unintelligibly as snippets of spoken sentences cut over each other, filling his head.

“The Switch already seems to be taking on a whole new direction for Nintendo—”

“—burn a cabinet’s wood, the spirit’s—”

“Uh—where’s the Madden aisle?”

“—the s’mores maker—”

“—bit of a falling out.”

“Well, I love plastic—

“Sure, some games may be better than others—”

“—any less depressing.”

“—I always wanted in high school!”

Scott’s hands were shaking. At least, he thought that they were.

“What’s the first thing you think—”

“—missing a leg...?”

“I don’t need anything new in my life!”

“Well that’s a blow to your case...”

“They’re wrong anyways!”

“Busy day.”

“Even I can’t cook these.”

“—haven’t gotten any responses yet.”

“—just to drive me back to my—”

He felt sick. He didn’t even have a stomach to be sick with.

“—comes outta nowhere, it sometimes doesn’t leave—”

“—robbed tomorrow!”

“—failing to sell any ghosts.”

“All because you have a cousin?!”

“I’ll meet up with the guys and—”

“Yeah! Oh, wait—him? No—”

This felt like dying all over again.

“Tough sh*t, Scott!”

“Curse or no curse—”

“But I oddly don’t feel at peace...”

“—something somebody’s never done before.”

“...but that doesn’t mean they never tried.”

RECOVERY

***

Mind returned to body, he snapped back to reality.

Blinking the spots out of his vision, he looked around. The guys looked just as dazed.

...But they were still in the desk room.

Woz gasped next to him. Scott looked over. Wait—they were in the desk room... They weren’t in his desk room.

The lack of studio lights gave it away—clearly Woz had just noticed that.

“What the fuck?” Eric had just noticed too, apparently.

Scott looked around at their circle. They were all in the same places as before, ‘cept they were in the other universe, now.

Freaky.

“Uh... we did it?” Scott mumbled.

Sam, previously preoccupied with inspecting the desk, whipped around to face him. “Dude. You kicked the fucking body?! You kicked it?!”

Scott made a variety of spluttering noises, unable to form a defense for himself.

“Guys...?” Dominic spoke up. He’d immediately tended to Woz’s body, making sure it was alright. “Uhh... what now? Was something supposed to happen?”

Expectantly, all eyes turned to Woz, who was looking down at his body, glancing between it and Scott’s ghost.

“It’s not working,” his voice shivered. “It... it hasn’t worked.”

PART 33: THE BEGINNING

###

Silence.

“What was supposed to happen? When we got here?” Dominic asked.

Woz ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Breathing, at least. I dunno. Maybe—I guess—because of the ghost stuff, it’s working a bit... wrong?”

Scott was crestfallen. His face was consumed with the expression of someone who looked like they were about to cry some very ugly tears.

Sam shook his head, stepping forwards. “No, there has to be something. We’re not just gonna give up when one thing that we guessed would happen, didn’t happen, alright?”

“But—” Scott protested. Then he felt that snap again.

Blue. Sunset. Nighttime. Falling. Wool. Cardboard.

The flashes were gone again and he clutched at his chest.

Eric’s hand was hovering near him. “Did it happen again?”

“Yes,” he shuddered.

Eric tried patting his shoulder. The hand phased through him.

Scott sniffed. “I’m gonna be dead forever and our dimension is gonna collapse,” he mourned.

“Guys!” Dominic gasped suddenly. “Think about it! We’re in the reality that has Rex now, remember? The expert!”

Scott’s eyes widened. “That’s right... kinda...”

“We’re really in another reality...” Dominic mumbled to himself disbelievingly, taking another glance around the familiar-yet-unfamiliar space before shaking his head. “Surely we can ask him for help? We got another shot!”

Scott looked around the room. Checking the rest of the basement from the doorway, he saw there were empty snack bowls on the coffee table, games on the floor and a ladder leaning against a shelf. “...Were there people here?”

Woz nodded. “Uh huh. The guys were over with me. Rex and Jeb... but... they aren’t here now...”

“Maybe they left after you vanished?” Eric suggested. “Or went to get help. Somethin’ like that. Since, ya know, you vanished before their eyes or whatever happened earlier.”

Scott massaged his eyes. “So we need to find ‘em.” He picked himself off the floor, scanning the desk, and used all of his concentration and effort in order to grab the phone.

It rang. It rang. It clicked. No response.

Sighing tiredly, Scott allowed the phone to clip through his hand and hit the desk with a plastic thwack.

“Maybe they went home? Still on their way home? Can’t answer?” Sam suggested.

Scott was thinking. This was such unfamiliar territory that he was navigating right now. He sighed.

A hand grasped his shoulder, making him flinch. He turned his head to look at who it was. “Don’t do that, Dom, you spooked me,” he grumbled.

The other’s eyes widened and he backed away. “Umm...”

Scott frowned. He looked again. He snapped his head forwards to see Dominic standing across from him, looking at him weirdly.

...Scott turned around. “What...?” He squeaked out.

The man behind him brushed at the apron of his Wendy’s uniform awkwardly. “Erm. Hi.”

Scott stumbled backwards, knocking into the desk, which barely rattled at the ‘hit’. “Holy SHIT!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t—” the Wendy’s Employee stepped back, hands raised.

“What the fuck?! You’re dead!”

Wendy’s Employee frowned. “So are you...?”

Eric squinted at Scott. “Are you speaking to another ghost?”

The other ghost sighed. “He won’t be able to see me. No one ever does.”

“But you’re the Wendy’s Employee!” Shocking the rest of the room with his accidental reveal, Scott scanned him.

He looked like a different kind of ‘ghostly’. That was blue, right? And he didn’t have a weird outline or whatever.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wendy’s? That makes sense, I guess...”

“Yep, that’s me,” Wendy’s splayed out his arms unenthusiastically. “Dead as a doorknob. Have been for quite a while now.”

Woz finally managed to pick up his jaw, which had fallen to the floor. “Wendy’s Employee?! He’s here?! Tell him I’ll take care of his brother!”

Scott looked back over at the man in question, seeing his expression soften considerably.

“...I think he knows already,” he smiled. Wendy’s nodded.

Sam scratched at his beard in thought. “Wendy’s Employee? If you’re haunting the house or the guys—sorry if that’s offensive—if you’re haunting the house, do you know where Rex is right now?”

Scott jumped to attention, spinning to grab the Employee by his shoulders. “Where’s Rex?! We need him! Right now!”

The dead Employee raised an eyebrow. “He was hanging around here. They both were. But they just left to go get Sonic. They’d been waiting ages for Scott to come back, after he vanished earlier today. I had a gut feeling so I... decided to hang around here instead of following them. Usually I would follow. I’ve, uh... learned to trust a gut feeling, though.”

Scott wrung his hands together, addressing the room. “They just left! To get Sonic.”

“How long ago?” Eric stood to attention.

He thought for a moment. “No longer than about ten minutes or so. Wait—you can catch them!” And Scott repeated what he said.

“That was the plan!” Eric ran out of the door, and towards the stairs.

“You’re just... going?!” Scott yelled after him.

Eric didn’t respond, already upstairs. The group heard the sounds of him rummaging around and looked between themselves in confusion.

Quickly, he returned, peering down from the stairway. “Woz! Keys! Car keys! Where are they?!”

Woz startled and patted himself down, swearing loudly. “No! Noooo!”

Sam looked at him in concern. “What?!”

“Where are my keys?! They were in my pocket, I swear!”

Scott hissed between his teeth uncomfortably. “Those aren’t... your pockets...”

Woz flushed red immediately. “Oh—Sorry, Scott. Um...” He scurried away to check his actual pockets. He swore again. “No! They’re not there. I must have dropped them at your house! Oh nooooo...”

Eric returned, fidgeting with his curly bangs. “How do we catch them then? Argh!”

“Call again?!” Woz suggested, already moving to the phone, which was now sitting on the floor beside the desk. “C’mon... c’mon...”

Dominic looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Does your mobile phone not work? You got FaceTime?”

Woz looked over at him with utter confusion. “Huh?”

Then the phone clicked.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Woz sprang up. “JEB! JEB! JEB! HELP!”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, buddy—what’s goin’ on?!”

“JEB! Is Rex with you?!” Woz clutched the phone with both hands, yelling into the receiver.

“Yeah, he’s driving right now. Wait—you’re back! Where were you?! We were waiting hours!”

“That doesn’t matter! Turn around right now! SPEED! Get here as fast as fucking possible, alright?”

“Hang on a second—say that again.”

Woz frowned. “What? Say what again?”

It was quiet for a moment. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Uh... It’s Scott? Do you... not remember my voice?”

Quiet again.

“Which Scott?” Jeb’s tone was icy.

Scott grunted in frustration. “Oh, for the love of—it’s because you didn’t bleep. He thinks it’s me.”

Woz gasped. “OH! Jeb, it’s not the other Scott. It’s me. I’m suffering this weird thing with my throat and it’s doing a weird thing with the—” he shook his head. “No—wait—IT DOESN’T MATTER! Just get here! Now, now, now!”

“Alright, alright, we’re turning around.”

Jeb hung up.

“I’m a little lost, I think,” Wendy’s Employee admitted.

“Welcome to my world,” Scott grumbled.

***

Jeb and Rex did, in fact, speed. Their arrival was announced with a loud clattering at the front door. Woz left to answer it.

“Who’s dying?!” Were unfortunately the first words to leave Rex’s mouth.

Woz’s face crumpled up. Hastily, he dragged the pair of them into the basement.

Both froze up at the sight of Eric and Sam.

“Whoah,” Eric said.

Sam stared back. “...I get it now.”

“No time!” Woz pushed them all back into the desk room.

Scott leaped off the couch to trail after them as the latest additions to their group were introduced to the gruesome sight on the floor.

“That is... not good...” Jeb stuttered out.

“We know,” Scott sighed from behind him, startling Jeb.

“What the sh*t?!” He clutched at his heart. “You’re here too?! What’d you do?!”

“Well, I died.” Scott shuffled his feet, gesturing at the floor.

Woz raised his hand slightly. “Actually, technically I died. But then also I didn’t die.”

Rex squinted at Scott. “Well, you do look... a little weird...”

“I know, I know. But can you fix it?”

“Fix what?” Jeb blinked.

Scott gestured over himself and then towards Woz’s body on the floor.

“Fix this! Fix—fix death! Revive me! Get Woz his body back!”

Rex’s eyes widened. “Whoah! That is some advanced stuff!”

“You did it on that one Halloween, right?!”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t the point of that, that it didn’t go well? Like, at all?”

Rex nodded. “Yeah, it went to sh*t, man. Remember?”

“Is there anything you can do?” Woz pleaded.

Rex huffed, mulling it over seriously. “I guess I could try? I don’t know. I can probably revive you. Maybe. I’m not sure!”

“I will take a maybe,” Scott replied seriously.

Dominic bit his lip. “Is it safe?”

“No, absolutely not,” Rex shook his head. “There’s gonna be a cost to this. To bringing you back from the dead like that.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “There wasn’t a cost when you revived Steel Wool and Chet!”

Rex immediately waved him off. “That was different. Firstly, you’re from another reality. Second, you’re like, actively haunting ‘n sh*t right now. Third, I’m still a beginner.”

“Do you wanna do this, Scott?” Sam looked at him.

“I do. I really do.” He looked over to Woz. “What do you think?”

“Me?”

“Well, it’s still your body.”

“But it’s your soul.”

“But it’s my fault.”

Woz paused, stunned. “Umm—I—”

“This is your call,” Scott interrupted. “I don’t mean that in a pressuring way. I just don’t wanna get you hurt again. So it’s up to you.”

Rex stepped forwards. “Well, the idea is that I gotta take some life from someone else.” He looked over at Scott, not finishing his sentence.

Scott nodded. “Yeah.”

“So I’m deciding... to sacrifice Scott to revive him... so that I can get my body back?”

“I’ll try not to... make it a sacrifice, but yeah, pretty much,” Rex confirmed.

Woz chewed his lip, glancing nervously at everyone assembled.

Scott stared him down. “Scott. I’m okay with it, really.”

Woz sighed, looking at his feet. “Okay,” he said in a small voice. “Let’s do it.”

***

An area had been cleared by Sam, Eric and Jeb. The appropriate spooky circle had been made by Rex, Dominic and Woz. Scott and Wendy’s Employee watched from the sidelines. It was time.

“Good luck,” Wendy’s muttered to Scott as he stepped towards Woz and the body in the center of the circle. He’d been trying to stay quiet and out of the way, unused to an audience.

“Thanks,” Scott mumbled back. “Goodbye, man.”

Wendy’s Employee just nodded.

Rex positioned the three present instances of Scott in the center and produced his large book. He let out a breath. “Here we go,”

Jeb, Eric and Sam stayed near the door. Sam was looking more at Jeb standing right next to him than the ritual in front of him.

That was the last thing Scott saw before his vision went white.

RECONCILIATION

***

And then he just... woke up. He was blinking at the blurred ceiling.

And then he wasn’t blinking at the ceiling. He was suddenly sitting up.

Scott opened his mouth. Then the pain kicked in.

“HOLY FUCK!” He yelped, grasping at the back of his head. His hand came away wet and sticky. And red. “Guys?!”

A hand pressed some fabric to the back of his head. It was Dominic with his trusty hoodie-turned-injury cloth. “Hold still...” He attempted to coax Scott into laying down.

“Are you alright?” Someone said.

The world finally swam into focus again. He cried out in relief. It was Woz.

“Are we both alive?” Scott asked.

Woz grinned. “We’re both alive.” He patted Scott’s shoulder reassuringly.

The feeling of a non-ghostly interaction left Scott feeling elated.

“Careful! That head injury might have healed a bit, but you still stole it from a dead guy,” Rex warned.

“Hold up!” Sam yelped. “Woz has a weird outline.”

Woz froze up. “What?” He tried looking at himself.

Scott saw it. That vague VHS-kinda outline that had been sticking with him. The faintest trace of it could be seen on Woz now.

“Consequences...” Rex muttered with a frown creasing his face.

“No.... no, no, no...” Scott panicked, looking around, ignoring Dominic’s protests. His eyes passed over Jeb, Sam and Eric’s horrified looks and saw Wendy’s, still at the edge of the room and watching. His eyes were wide when he saw Scott staring straight at him. “No...”

Scott stared at his hands. But he looked fine. “We have to get back right now and fix everything.”

“How do we even know how to fix this shit?!” Eric yelped.

Scott blinked. “I-I don’t know what made me say that. I just—I have a feeling. That we need to go back home.”

“How did you even get here in the first place?” Jeb asked.

Sam gave his doppelgänger a side-eye before passing that cold look towards Scott. “...It kinda just happened,” he stated.

Scott raised his hands apologetically.

“Can you do it again?” Rex asked.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Scott sighed. “Everyone just sit with me and we’ll wait.”

Hesitantly, Sam, Eric and Dominic shuffled into the area around Scott, as Woz, Jeb and Rex stood back.

Eric suddenly stepped forwards to clasp hands with Rex. “It was great meeting ya, man. Even if we didn’t really get to meet.”

Rex grinned. “Same. Rex Mohs,” he introduced himself.

Eric returned the grin. “Eric Turney.”

Jeb rolled his eyes and held out his hand to Sam. “Hi. Jeb Jab.”

“Hey Jeb,” Sam greeted, accepting the handshake. “Sam Essig.” Jeb nodded and they separated.

Dominic waved with a small smile. “Hi, I’m Dominic.”

Wendy’s Employee smiled from his place at the wall. “Hey Dominic,” he responded.

Scott laughed, startling everyone. “Wendy’s Employee says hello.”

The Employee flushed. “Don’t call attention to me. They can’t even see me.”

“Well, I can see you, so I’m gonna make sure they know that ya care, hm?”

Wendy’s laughed. “Alright, then.”

Rex and Jeb shared a glance at the mention of the deceased man.

Woz rubbed his arm nervously. “Hey all, Scott here.”

Scott smiled. But dropped it when he turned awkwardly to Wendy’s Employee again. “Sorry about leaving you behind, man... I-I—” he looked away, clearing his throat. “I don’t wanna just leave you alone like this. And I... I’m sorry for—I’m sorry for killing you. I never would have... I just wouldn’t have, y’know? If I’d—uh, if I’d known. Uh, known everything... that I do now.”

Wendy’s Employee shook his head, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. The past is the past, we can’t change this now. And... you didn’t know. So it’s alright. Really.”

“...Thank you. I—”

He was cut off. Vision blurring and fading, ears ringing.

“—want to just get a picture at the table—”

“—The mustache. The hat. And—”

“I know! It’s just not exporting and—”

“—names for the cats? I was thinking—”

“—getting merch sorted because of the—”

Then he felt a tug, like he was being pulled aside.

“SHIT! OW!”

“—appreciate it—”

“—leave? Please.”

“—at my desk, right?”

“—heard of jinxing something?”

With a snap, he was back. Frantically he looked around.

Yes—they were in his desk room, with all the boxes and lights scattered around.

Then he saw Woz. He’d returned with them.

Sam, Eric, Dominic and Woz.

Woz clutched his head, glancing around. “No! No! Now we’re stuck back here again!”

Dominic huffed. “At least we fixed Scott being dead. But now what?”

Woz began to pace. “Am I... Am I gonna be able to get home?” He was stressing, tugging at his hair. “Am I gonna have to settle down here? Do I need a new ID? Will it be suspicious that I have no record of existing before now? And that I look just like you? I can live in your house, right? I’ll pay rent. I can’t get you a reference from my old apartment but I was good with my rent!” He rambled hysterically.

“Easy! Easy!” Scott placated, before combing through his hair with his hand. “Shit.”

The tension in the room charged the air like static electricity.

Scott let out a shaky breath. “We need to figure out what is causing the Reality Leak. We need to figure out what’s causing the Merge.”

PART 34: THE END

###

“Where do we even start with that?” Woz announced what they were all thinking.

Scott grunted, pacing back and forth and scrubbing at his temple with his fingertips.

“It could be a lot of things,” Sam added.

“Not helpful...” Scott muttered.

Eric combed through his hair. “Well we are on a time limit. We don’t have time to make every guess, we just gotta do somethin’.”

“And that’s the problem—there’s a lot of somethings that we gotta think through! So... need to narrow it down...” Scott tapped at his chin.

He brushed a hand over the back of his head, wincing at how sore it was. Sighing, he picked at the flakes of blood that were stuck to his locks. That injury probably looked pretty ugly... he’d forgotten about that; letting the pain fade into the background amidst all the action that was currently going on.

Scott spared a glance at Dominic, seeing he had that hoodie slung over his arm. He could see the blood on it—he felt a little bad. He was gonna have to help him clean that up at some point...

“Where are you going?” Dominic asked, looking past him.

Scott raised an eyebrow, turning to look at what he was talking about. Everyone was looking at Woz, who was... trying to sneak out of the room?

“Uhh...” the man droned, freezing up.

“What’s up?” Sam asked him.

“Uhh...” he said again. Not so subtly, he put his left arm behind his back.

Eric raised an eyebrow, watching the obvious movement. “...What?”

“What ya got?” Scott asked him.

Woz twitched, not making eye contact. “Nothin’.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uh huh.” Woz stepped back, trying to move backwards out of the doorway.

“Oh, come on! Just show us already, we’re wasting time!” Sam snapped impatiently before letting out a sigh and pinching his nose bridge.

Woz flinched and raised his hands. “Sorry...” he mumbled.

Scott spotted it immediately. “Your hand!” He gasped.

Woz chewed on his lip and held out the hand for all to see. That faint outline that they’d noticed earlier... it had spread. The color bleeding and static look was moving over his skin and his clothes, starting at the fingertips of his left hand. He was turning translucent.

“I don’t know what this means,” he whined, face falling.

Scott began to theorize. “Is it because we’re not... actually home or somethin’? It wasn’t happening before, right...? I mean, it looks like my house...” His gaze wandered over the equipment set up, the soundproofing on the walls and ceiling, and the desk against the wall.

Dominic opened his mouth to speak, but both Scotts suddenly jumped like they’d been electrocuted.

“Ow!” Scott yelped, grabbing his head. “OW!” He said again.

“The heck was that?!” Woz complained.

“Urgh—that was like... that feeling you get when you sit still for a while and then you stretch your elbow out and it clicks. Like that. But in my head. Ow.”

Woz’s eyes widened. “Wait—I got a spin. Did you get a spin? Was that a swap or somethin’? One that didn’t work?”

Scott pursed his lips in concern. “Err—why are they not working now?”

Dominic frowned. “Well, I was just gonna say... I don’t think we can mess with the fabric of reality so easily and expect to get away with it.”

“No more swaps... is that a good thing?” Woz asked.

In response, Scott grabbed his hand, showing everyone that the VHS effect had already jumped significantly further up his arm.

“Oh,” Woz said simply.

Eric hissed between his teeth in sympathy, getting a closer look for himself. “Did it progress more when you two just got brain zapped?”

“Think so,” Scott hummed. He winced, rubbing his head once again. “I am getting a major headache right now.”

“Careful,” Sam warned.

“I know, I know,” Scott waved him off.

Sam shrugged casually. “Just remembering what happened last time you complained you had a headache.”

“Last time?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “What happened last time?”

Sam frowned at him in confusion. “What?”

“I HAVE AN IDEA!” Dominic yelped suddenly. “Sorry—I just—I have an idea!”

Eric crossed his arms “Shoot.”

“Remember right at the start, back in January? When we were theorizing what caused the swaps?”

Everyone nodded slowly.

“No,” said Scott. Sam frowned at him again.

Dominic continued. “Well, we were literally saying back then all about—what if it was all because of Scott falling down the stairs? I’m not sure if we ever ended up ruling out that theory or something, but I was just thinking about it now...”

Sam scratched his head. “Well that probably was what caused it, yeah. But that’s not really something we can fix...? Like, we’re not time travelers. So I don’t know how we’re supposed to turn that into a fix for the Merge.”

“When did I fall down the stairs?” Scott asked.

Sam sighed in frustration. “Dude, are you doing a bit right now? ‘Cause it’s not funny.”

“What? Why would I be doing a bit right now?”

Woz chewed on his lip. “Why do you keep saying you don’t remember stuff...?”

Scott blinked. “I do?”

Eric sighed. “You just said you didn’t remember falling down the stairs.”

“Yeah...? When was that? I think I’d remember falling like that.”

“But you don’t remember!” Dominic protested with wide eyes. “We just said—it was right at the beginning! You fell down the basement stairs, and then you started swapping with Woz.”

“...Huh,” Scott stated simply, frowning at himself. “That’s... huh.”

When did this brain fog start suddenly creeping up on me...?

He looked around. All eyes were concerned and focused on him. Oops.

“So—uh... about that idea...?” Scott prompted awkwardly.

Eric shook his head. “You’re not off the hook yet,” he sighed. “But yeah—how do we work out what connects the head injury to the swapping and then to undoing the swapping, all without inventing time travel and preventing it from happening in the first place?”

“Did Scott ever get his head injury treated? Maybe we need to do that,” Woz suggested.

Dominic hummed. “Well, we didn’t go in the first place because we didn’t want to cause any suspicion. But also it’s been long enough now that it’s either ‘healed’ on its own or it's just irreversible.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t say that it’s irreversible!”

Dominic raised his hands in apology. “Well it's kinda true.”

“Maybe it was whatever he was thinking about at the time that it happened,” Eric spoke up, catching everyone’s attention. “Kind of a movie thing... but basically, like... he had that thought in his head, then WHAM—he hits his head and it becomes real. Something like that.”

“Eric, that’s genius,” Scott grinned. “That must have been it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “But we can’t ask what you were thinking because you’ve conveniently just developed amnesia.”

Scott’s enthusiasm wilted. “Oh.”

Dominic mulled it over. “Well, he must have been thinking about work, right? He was dragging props around or whatever it was. And he was working on the Christmas special. So I think it’s safe to say that theory’s correct.”

Woz scratched at his chin. “Now—how to reverse it...”

Sam muttered to himself, “Scott hits his head while thinking about his show and creates a magic connection between him and his work... which then has the side effect of connecting realities together...” he recapped. “Connection between him and his work... Hey, guys?” He raised his volume. “What if it’s something to do with Scott The Woz?”

“I thought we were already assuming that?” Scott frowned.

Sam elaborated. “No, I mean, like... can we break the connection between you and Scott The Woz?”

Scott scoffed. “I am Scott The Woz. You’d have to kill me,” he teased.

Eric rolled his eyes. “No, Sam has a point. Maybe... get rid of all your recording stuff? Break all the cameras?”

Woz rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we were putting that behind us...”

Eric smiled at the embarrassed man apologetically.

Sam hummed in thought. “Maybe delete all your footage for videos?”

Scott shook his head vigorously. “I’m not doin’ that! I’m already behind schedule enough as it is, with all this shit going on this year.”

“Hold on, hold on—” Dominic gestured aimlessly with his hands, thinking hard. “Killing you and breaking the equipment... that’s stuff we’ve already done. What if it is getting rid of the videos that we have to do?”

“What?!” Scott exclaimed. “What are you suggesting?!”

Dominic shrugged. “Delete your hard drives. Delete gameplay. Delete all your videos and project files. Get rid of it all. Clear everything Scott The Woz from your house and your computer. That breaks the connection.”

REALITY

***

PART 35: I

###

“Delete it all?” Scott’s voice cracked.

Dominic nodded solemnly. “Yeah. The channels, the videos—all of it.”

“C’mon that can’t be—you know how I am about keeping all this stuff safe. I can’t just delete it all!”

“Then we’ll have to do it,” Eric shrugged, already moving towards his work desk and his Mac.

“No! No—that is not what I meant!” Scott protested.

Woz spoke up. “If... you’re deleting everything... does that mean... I’m gonna get deleted, too?”

It was silent.

He continued. “‘Cause... I know you said that you were Scott The Woz, right? But really that’s me, isn’t it? I just—deleting the link between the realities, I’m in the wrong place, I’m the thing you’re trying to delete... it means I have to... go. Right...?”

“Absolutely not.” Scott stamped his foot. “That’s it. We’re finding something else.”

“There isn’t something else, Scott!” Dominic was exasperated. “I-I don’t want to kill Woz either but...! Shit...”

Woz shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Scott already offered to sacrifice himself to bring my body back to life, so... I’m just returning the favor.”

“That’s because it was my fault in the first place! And it wasn’t guaranteed to kill me—we still had a chance! And I didn’t even sacrifice myself!”

“If I’m gonna get erased from existence, I want it to be to help save your reality.”

“But you don’t have to get erased from existence!”

Sam sighed deeply. “What other choice do we have, Scott?”

“Anything! Find something else!”

Woz scratched at the back of his head. “Who knows? Maybe I’m not even being erased from existence. If I was, wouldn’t I be... like, fading properly or losing my memory or something like that? I think I might just be... losing my presence in this place, and then I’m gonna appear back home again.”

The other guys nodded slowly.

Except Scott, who shot him a wide-eyed look. “I don’t think—”

Eric clapped his hands, still standing by the computer. “I’m deleting this stuff. Any objections?”

“Don’t delete him!” Scott pleaded. “All of my work!”

Eric shook his head. “I’m sorry to say this, but... it’s your life’s work or the universe, man.”

“But we can’t just... delete it all! We can’t!”

Sam raised his hands at him. “Scott, I’m really sorry, but it’s what’s gonna fix things. We literally have to do it.”

Scott shook his head rapidly. “No. No, no, no—this isn’t the solution. This isn’t right.”

“Scott—”

“No! Listen—I know this isn’t it. This isn’t the right solution! It’s something else...”

Dominic glanced at him warily. “...What else could it possibly even be?”

“Argh!” Scott flung his hands into the air, frustrated. “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay?!”

Angry at himself, he combed his hands through his hair, thinking desperately. “Something else... something else...” he muttered.

Something important. That connects everything together. That makes sense. It has to be significant, and recognisable and—

His absent pacing has caused him to turn and lock eyes with the entrance to the desk room.

Innocently, The Internet and You sat on his desk.

Where it always had.

Because it had never started with episode one of Scott The Woz. It didn’t start with a Wii U box thrown from a second floor window.

It started at the end of high school.

A school project turned farewell.

Because that was the turning point.

That decision that he had made to continue what he had started with The Internet and You... created all these different realities.

They were created because he decided to start Scott The Woz. His decision’s ripple effect on the entire universe.

If the Internet and You had never been created and then ‘aired’ to a handful of close friends (plus that one randomer he’d never discovered the identity of)... what kind of impact would that have had?

So many of those realities out there hinged on the existence of his Web series. Without it... well...

And he hated to think of it, but the sheer number of people that watched his silly videos, too—how much had their worlds been affected? How many branching paths were there from the people who had engaged in his work?

Had they been inspired into game collecting? Were there now universes where that person wasn’t a collector versus one where they were?

Had they been inspired into making videos? Was there a universe where they became famous? And then their fame had inspired more, just like a line of falling dominoes?

...Had they benefited from a Charity Bonanza? Were there universes where there were more smiles from those who had been helped than there had been before?

A million thoughts swam through his head.

And he’d noticed that the effect covering Woz had spread significantly. Although it was less visible on his clothes, he’d spotted the creeping static on the other man’s neck, now. Halfway?

And he knew what it meant now.

Because it wasn’t about Woz being deleted.

Scott was being deleted, too.

But it was different. He knew that.

It terrified him that the memory in his head of him sleeping on the couch and waking up in a turtleneck... wasn’t his own memory.

He was losing himself.

The true Swap. The true Merge. Finalized with his deletion from existence.

Scott was standing in front of the tape on its little stand. Now numb to the world as he let it all fade into the background.

He reached out his hand and grasped it.

His brain blanked, muscles went slack, and his body hit the floor.

***

Scott blinked awake.

He was in a dark place. Ominously dark. Unnaturally dark. The only source of light seeped from the CRT TV set on the floor in front of him.

Carefully, Scott picked himself up, eyes locked on to the snowy screen of the humming appliance.

As he wobbled to his feet, the display flickered, gaining the entirety of his attention in just a short moment.

It was too dark! The inconsistency of the light from the static was hurting his eyes.

Scott swiped his phone from his pocket, clicking on the screen so that he could use the flashlight. He spared a glance.

Hmm. No signal. And the time and date’s wrong.

The beam from the flashlight did barely anything. The floor was still concrete gray and the void surrounding the little space set up here was unaffected by his light.

Then the TV flickered again. It changed. Music was playing.

His eyes widened.

It was... The Internet And You.

“WOOAAAHH!!” It sounded like it was coming out of an underwater Wii Remote speaker. “UGG, Net-Meister, I’m not feeling too hot!”

Scott squinted and looked again. He could make out—was that YouTube? Was this the YouTube version of the video? Who was playing YouTube on a CRT?

This was... this was live.

This was the live, first time viewing.

Wait. Wait. His phone.

He checked—looked again. The date.

...The mystery viewer.

It was... this? It was him. This entire time... it had been him?

Who the fuck was doing this? Where was this being cast from?

He crept towards the TV to inspect it, but paused as his foot gently connected with something. The sound of plastic skidding across the floor was deafeningly loud in the current environment, and he snapped his attention to it. It was another tape.

Carefully, he picked it up. It was warm—freshly ejected from a player? He turned it around in his hand. Label just said ‘JANUARY’. It looked damaged—not from him kicking it, no. Like... the tape itself was all fucked up, the plastic casing seemed fine. This probably wouldn’t play back very well at all.

The TV was still playing. He pocketed the tape.

Halting in front of the box, he grabbed it with both hands, inspecting it all around. There were cables coming from the back, trailing away into the dark.

Tentatively, he faced the wall of black, eyes lingering on the wires that he could see; the way they snaked across the ground and vanished seemed to tease him.

He stepped forwards and he followed their trail. Into the darkness.

The focus he had was intense, not allowing his gaze to stray away. As if by magic, the area at his feet was dimly lit, still unaffected by the phone light he’d forgotten about, allowing him to progress forwards, continuing onwards.

As he pressed on, his pace quickened. A tentative step became a steady walk which was soon a light jog.

He was sprinting, running alongside the cables. They kept going. He could see them stretching on, in the distance of the void. They were still traveling away from that TV.

If he just kept following.

If he just kept going.

If he could just find out—

Scott collided harshly with an invisible wall and blacked out.

REWIND

***

Gasping as he regained consciousness, Scott sat up fast. His brain was still spinning and everything ached all over.

The tape.

He snapped his head to the VHS, now laying abandoned on the ground.

This is it.

“He’s back!” Dominic’s voice exclaimed.

Blearily, he looked around, swatting away the hands that were near him. “No, no—I’m fine...” he slurred, dragging himself to start standing up. “Where was I...? I don’t...”

“Don’t get up!” Dominic scolded.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You didn’t go anywhere, you were here on the floor.”

Uncaring, Scott brushed past the worried grasps of his friends. He needed to get to that box.

Delicately, he reached out. His head was pounding. His arm was shaking, fingers an inch away from the box. Pain was blooming through his skull and he couldn’t help but wince. It spread from his forehead at a specific point.

...That’s where I got my original head injury. Why can I remember that?

There was no doubt about it.

It was this VHS tape.

Scott backed away, out of the desk room, clutching his head.

“Scott, what is it? We’re really worried now,” Dominic’s concerned voice was deafeningly loud to him.

“It’s that,” he choked out, pointing with a shaking finger at the innocent box lying flat on the floor.

“The... tape?” Sam asked, confused.

“But... How can it be the Internet and You box? That’s not even the real tape! That doesn’t make any sense,” Eric complained.

“It’s a representation, maybe?” Dominic guessed.

Scott smeared his hands over his face. “It all started there. With that tape. It doesn’t matter that it’s not actually The Internet and You. It’s in the background, it’s in every episode—every reality. Every reality where there is Scott The Woz, there’s The Internet and You. And everyone always asks about it. The number of eyes looking at it and asking those questions, and I never acknowledge it. So shrouded in mystery taking up all that attention—it’s that tape... Where it started.”

Realization dawned on their faces.

“We have to destroy it,” Scott concluded. “I don’t care how. It needs to be destroyed. And deleted.”

“You’re sure...?” Eric asked, hesitant about the sudden mood switch.

Scott looked him right in the eyes. “Yes.”

“But it was affecting you when you were trying to go near it,” Sam chewed on his lip. “I’m just worried. Because the last time something—someone had an area effect thing, Dominic ended up looking like a Smurf with the amount of blue blood that was on his face.”

Dominic looked around. “How do we destroy it? Without anyone getting hurt?”

No one moved, each person thinking hard about what their next step would be.

Before any suggestions could be made, one person did move.

Woz.

He sighed through his nose. “I guess... I do get to make my sacrifice after all. Goodbye.”

There wasn’t time to react. It was swift.

Woz ran, moving from his spot at the other side of the room to the tape on the floor.

“NO! WAIT!” Scott screamed.

Woz’s heel connected with the VHS tape. The homemade cardboard sleeve crumpled beneath his foot as the sound of splintering plastic filled the room.

It didn’t happen instantly.

From the floor, a weird hole opened up. Silently.

Scott got up. He dove forwards.

The ground beneath Woz’s feet had vanished and he began to fall.

Scott made it to the edge, landing harshly on his ribs. He reached out. Woz reached up.

Freefall, for one heart-stopping moment.

Scott grabbed Woz’s wrist, catching him.

Just barely managing to hold on—his grip was already slipping—Scott tried to readjust, but he was in a difficult position. He was barely balanced halfway over this pit into the abyss, he only had one hand to grab Woz, and the man was already too far down. Scott didn’t have the strength to haul him back up.

But he wasn’t alone.

The guys appeared, grabbing him, trying to drag him back.

Eric positioned himself right on the edge, daring to try and reach for Woz’s other hand.

He was just too far down.

Scott could feel his fingers sliding.

He locked eyes with Woz.

The thought of an identical doppelgänger no longer scared him.

“Scott.”

In fact, he didn’t really view Woz as his doppelgänger anymore. Not really.

“Scott, please.”

He wasn’t a doppelgänger or a character, nothing like that.

“You’re gonna fall with me. I don’t want that. I’m going to disappear anyways, even if you get me out. ”

No. He could say with certainty—

“I don’t wanna lose my new brother,” Scott choked. “Before I’ve even got the chance to meet him.”

It was so quiet. No dramatic rushing wind, or the thunder of an earthquake. Just quiet as their grip weakened further.

“That’s okay. I got to meet you,” Woz bit his lip. “Which doesn’t... sound great, but I know there was a lot of stuff that happened and that you said that you didn’t really mean.”

Scott chuckled despite himself, the pressure on his ribs turning it into a wheeze. “Yeah?”

Woz smiled.

They heard a voice.

“HEY! HEY!”

Scott’s eyes widened. “Eric?”

Eric looked over at him from his left side. He shook his head. The voice was coming from below.

“It’s stable! Quick! It’s okay!”

“Rex?!” Woz shrieked.

“Yeah! C’mon, you gotta be quick!”

Scott’s heart melted. “You aren’t gonna die,” he gasped.

Woz laughed, voice cracking. “No. No I’m not.”

“But you were so ready to sacrifice yourself.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes meeting Scott’s for the last time. “Because we’re brothers, right?”

Tears welled up in Scott’s eyes. “Right.”

Woz smiled. “I forgive you.”

From his place dangling from Scott’s arm, he did his best to shake hands.

Scott returned the motion. And he let go.

RESPONSIBILITY

Hands dragged him back by his ankles, ten seconds before the hole was gone again, just as fast and as suddenly as it had appeared.

The pressure building in his head overwhelmed him, and he passed out once more.

***

Scott woke up feeling different.

He was lying on the couch in the basement. It was quiet. He could hear the ambiance of the house.

“Hello?” He croaked, squinting around. He’d lost his glasses somewhere.

Everything was kind of fuzzy, and not just sight-wise. His brain felt very delicate right now. And his memories weren’t... all there.

He’d try and remember in a minute. He felt tired.

Something seemed more peaceful. Like he’d lost the feeling of eyes on the back of his head, and now he could relax and rest easy.

For the first time in months, Scott felt like himself again.

Where was everyone?

Scott stared at the ceiling for who-knows-how-long. Until he heard footsteps.

“I’ll check on Scott,” a voice whispered loudly. It was Sam.

Scott smiled. The guys were still here.

Sam’s face appeared above him, peering from over the back of the couch.

“Oh!” He blinked at Scott as they both stared at each other. “...He’s awake!” He called behind him.

More footsteps followed and suddenly Eric was here, too.

“Where’s Dom?” Scott had to ask.

“He’s on the phone,” Sam shook his head. “We did rock paper scissors for who was gonna have to be the one to catch everyone else up on... all this.”

Eric unhooked Scott’s glasses from the neck of his shirt and handed them over. Scott accepted them gratefully.

Scott puffed some air out of his nose, sinking into the cushions. “...Don’t envy him...” He murmured.

“Move over,” Sam kicked the side of the couch. “I wanna sit.”

“Me too,” Eric complained.

Scott grinned and slowly sat up, getting comfortable curled up in the corner.

“What was that... pit thing? Some kind of... wormhole?” Sam suddenly asked, skipping any build up.

“The number of realities...” Scott mumbled. “I wouldn’t be surprised a wormhole opened up. The number of realities we just messed with by breaking the connection like we did...”

“Is it really over just like that?” Eric frowned. “I dunno what I was expecting, but...” he shrugged. “I don’t know...”

“Well I’m not sure what to do now,” Scott admitted. “Do I really just... go back to it all like it never happened?”

Eric laughed weakly. “You can always quit your job.”

Scott started a staring contest with the ceiling. “Can I just quit, though? I feel... responsible now.”

Sam nudged his arm. “Well,” he smiled. “Better go and start being responsible, then.”

“Guys?” Dominic called from upstairs. “Joe is yelling at me, what do I say?”

Scott pinched his nose bridge. “Call everyone over here. I guess we’re gonna have to just recap everything, huh?”

Reality Leak