The Transposition Experimentation
Fandom: Fringe
Characters: Alternate Lincoln Lee, Alternate Olivia Dunham, Alternate Charlie Francis
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~7,500
Summary: It's not easy being you.
Notes: Season 1 Red'verse, roughly.
This one's for norgbelulah, who hates body-swap fic. (And also because she was sitting next to me at con_txt when inspiration struck, which makes it her fault.) *kisses!* :D
Lincoln woke up sore, and everything *itched.*
He couldn't remember where he was or the last place he'd been. When he opened his eyes, everything seemed blurry.
Memory returned slowly. They'd been...investigating a warehouse? The location had pinged on the Fringe event alert sensors scattered around the city, although there'd been no obvious vortex or other overt sign of anomalous activity. Lincoln, Liv, and Charlie moved cautiously inside...and then everything went black.
"Hey," he managed to croak. His voice came out deep, raspy, strange to his ears. "Guys?"
Godammit, his skin was just about crawling. Some kind of chemical exposure? They'd have to call in a decontam team. Lincoln got his arms moving, started scratching violently at his leg-
His hands weren't his hands.
He stared in disbelief at the alien hands that moved as his brain directed, the far-too-tanned skin, the dark hair on his arms, long blunt fingers starting to twitch in shock-
"Don't scratch."
Lincoln's head whipped around to see Liv staring at him from a few feet away, similarly sprawled on the floor. He could see the shape of another body farther inside, just starting to stir.
But he hadn't been next to Liv, he'd gone ahead on point-
"Hey," Liv said again, sounding insistent, "don't scratch!"
Her face was pale, her eyes wide and shocked, but something in her voice demanded Lincoln's attention. He realized that he'd gone back to scratching at his thigh with increasing force, the skin already feeling raw underneath his- dammit, he didn't *wear* black cargos-
Olivia went on, her words very measured, but speaking with an increasingly urgent tone. "You have to get the injector in your left-hand pocket. I've done-" she paused, grimacing. "You've seen me do it a thousand times."
"I've- what?" but his hand, not his hand, was moving toward the pocket, already knowing what his brain refused to acknowledge. He fumbled with the injector, clenching his fist and moving it over the vein on his-
On Charlie's arm. Lincoln *had* seen him do this a thousand times, maybe more, had even done it himself once or twice when circumstances demanded. But never from this angle.
The device hissed and Lincoln felt the serum pushing into his-dammit, *not* his!-blood. The itching started to fade immediately, just like Charlie always said. And then the empty fell out of his hand as he started to shake. "C-Charlie? That's really you?"
"Yeah." Liv-or Liv's body, anyway-started to move cautiously, sitting up in place, not yet attempting to stand. She, he, looked like she was going to say something else, but paused as the body on the floor a few yards away started to stir.
"What the *fuck!*" the third person shouted, rolling into a defensive crouch, quickly scanning the area until he saw them.
Lincoln looked into his own eyes across the room and team lead or not, Fringe-event hardened agent or not, that was in actual fact too much to handle. He felt the world going dark, got his hands out in time to keep from cracking Charlie's skull on the ground, and let everything go black.
They never let him forget it, of course.
"What's a little body-swapping between friends," Liv teased from her own bed in the D.O.D hospital, a day later. The three of them had been given a room together, thankfully separated from the rest of the patients. Only a handful of people-the other agents who'd come to collect them at the scene, Agent Farnsworth, Colonel Broyles, and the hastily assembled team of specialized doctors and scientists-knew about their current situation, although Lincoln had no illusion about the secret being kept. Hell, if he'd been on the outside looking in, he wouldn't have been able to keep from gossiping about it.
"Not nearly as fun as it looks in the comics," Lincoln threw back, not looking at her directly. Seeing his own body moving around without him was...still just too damn freaky. He should be able to laugh it off, banter right back about the situation; he was the sci-fi geek who'd seen this kind of thing dozens of time in fiction, laughing about it each time.
A lot different when it was your own mind that'd been displaced, though.
The scientists had a dozen theories and no concrete answers. Dr. Fayette looked like he'd wanted to take a cranial saw to their heads, and only Secretary Bishop's direct word about no invasive testing kept them from becoming unwilling guinea pigs.
Worse yet, the three of them had lost the memories of whatever had occurred between the time they entered the warehouse and woke up again. Anything they'd seen, anyone who'd been there, was lost in the mental fog.
The first couple of hours at the hospital were full of tests, making sure their faculties were intact despite their displacement. Everything checked out on that level, and emergency psychological counseling had been provided, with the shrinks on call 24/7 for the duration. They'd all been put on medical leave, full compensation and division resources at their disposal.
Lincoln and Charlie and Liv talked it over, the first moment they had together after the evaluations. They all agreed that they felt okay, as okay as could be expected, given the situation. Nobody was having a cerebral allergy to the foreign brain patterns, no one was in danger of an immediate breakdown. Lincoln felt like...like himself, except for the unfamiliar body, and Liv and Charlie reported the same.
Well. It was probable that they were putting a good face on things; like Lincoln had expressed to the shrink at his initial session, at least he still had a dick. Charlie was being remarkably calm about the whole situation. Lincoln didn't envy him in the least-no matter how much he wanted to get into Liv's pants, *that* way would have been a cheat.
-and whatever Charlie did with Liv's body was between them, and Lincoln would do his very, very best never to ask.
He'd probably fail sometime down the line, but it was the thought that counted, right?
Even worse: Liv was going to get into *his* pants, and Lincoln wouldn't even be there to enjoy it. His body was in good shape, she'd see that, if nothing else. And it was a damn good thing Frank was out of town. Frank was really hot, but Lincoln didn't have any particular desire to kiss him-or anything else-at least not in circumstances where he didn't have a say about what his body was doing. Not that he thought Liv would abuse the situation or anything, but-
"We'll get through this," Charlie said, and even if it was in Liv's lighter tones rather than Charlie's gravelly reassurance, Lincoln's reaction to him still held true.
"Okay," he said, trying for decisive and surprised at how confident he sounded with Charlie's voice. "We'll need to work with Farnsworth, see if we can find anything we missed in the intel that got us to the warehouse."
"I'm sure they're doing that already," Liv said, sounding impatient. Which in his voice, Lincoln noted uncomfortably, translated into whiny. "And we're supposed to be on leave anyway, Astrid would probably call the MPs on us if we showed up at division. I'm getting twitchy cooped up in here. Think they'll let us go for a walk?"
Turned out the doctors would, as long as the three of them stayed on hospital grounds and didn't mess with the various monitors stuck to their bodies that were tasked with measuring every conceivable variable. Just in case someone had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage, or something.
Cheerful thought.
But no one started bleeding out of the eyes as the three of them stretched their borrowed legs, even though Charlie kept bitching about his center of gravity being off. And Liv kept adjusting herself when she thought no one was looking. Lincoln mostly stared down at Charlie's (giant) feet moving in his flimsy slippers, trying not to think about...anything.
By the time they got back to the main building, the ward had erupted in a flurry of activity thanks to a gravity-inversion incident. The three of them ducked into their room, wanting to lend their hands but knowing they'd just get in the way.
The doctor in charge of their case caught up with them once the furor died down. "Ordinarily we'd want to keep you in for observation, but based on your labs and the past day's monitoring, there's nothing more we can do for you until the research team on your case comes up with something. And I know how Fringe agents hate to be restricted." She gave them an understanding smile.
"You need the beds, and we're not sick, just...misplaced," Liv translated.
Dr. Rivera looked at the three of them over her glasses. "You're being discharged, yes. I have a couple of things I wanted to go over with you first, and all of this will be in your discharge notes. You've heard this already, but it's probably the most important thing that we can think of, given that you three are a unique case. So: Be respectful of each others' boundaries. Talk to each other and be honest about what your bodies need. Make sure you're all aware of any allergies or sensitivities. Captain Lee, please be vigilant about Agent Francis' injection schedule."
"Not gonna forget, trust me," Lincoln said emphatically to Charlie's glance.
"I suggest you go home to where you're most comfortable. Familiar environments will help keep you stable...but stop by each others' places and get some clothes and personal items first." She paused. "We can arrange for home care, an attendant to keep you company if you don't feel steady enough on your own...?"
"No," Lincoln said forcefully, echoed by the other two. Bad enough to be living in an unfamiliar body, he didn't need to be looked after like an invalid. "We'll be fine," he said more gently to her dubious look. "We've handled worse."
He wasn't sure that was actually true, but it sounded confident enough that the doctor nodded with approval. "All right. Remember you have access to emergency medical and psychological services at all times. Don't hesitate to call if you need help." Her gaze was sympathetic as it swept over the three of them. "We all know how much the Fringe teams do for us. Least we can do is help you through this."
It was another hour before they could escape for real, laden down with prescription bottles and more of those annoying stick-on monitors. There'd been a couple of moments of near-hysterical hilarity as they'd all exchanged clothing; the nurses had, tactfully, run everything through the wash. Lincoln dressed in Charlie's clothes, slid Charlie's Show-Me and Fringe badge into Charlie's pockets, and felt like he was trapped in a Halloween farce.
A luxury car met them at the front entrance of the hospital, the driver given instructions to chauffeur the three of them to their respective homes. Lincoln insisted on his apartment being the first stop, so he'd be the last to go home. Team lead responsibility, and all.
He felt subtly out of place walking into his own apartment. The slight difference in height between him and Charlie, he realized, was just enough to put everything at a different eye level. "Let me, uh, pack a bag for you. Clothes and stuff."
Liv was watching him, her amusement evident on his own face. No wonder he sucked at poker. "I've seen what you wear. T-shirts and cargos, I can handle that." She nodded down at the body she was wearing. "Good thing you're not a clotheshorse."
"Wrong profession for that," he shot back, and with her comment in mind Lincoln threw his most basic, comfortable clothing into a duffle bag. He doubled back for underwear, sorting for newer pairs without any frayed edges, wincing because he really, really needed to do some replacement shopping. It'd have to do for a couple of days, because if they were stuck like this beyond that-
Didn't bear thinking about. Lincoln raided the bathroom, sweeping his hair stuff and razor and other products into a second bag. Nothing fancy, like Liv said, just the essentials like he was going on a casual vacation. Only his body would be going on vacation without him.
He came back out into the living room to find Charlie and Liv discussing what to do about Frank. "-calls when his schedule allows," Liv was saying. "Try to keep it short if he does. I'd...rather not have to explain all this to him long-distance."
"Last thing I want to do, too," Charlie grumbled. "No offense, Liv, but I'm glad he's on assignment."
She paused, her face twitching. "...on the other hand, watching you deal with him would be-"
"Uncomfortable for all involved?" Lincoln suggested, dropping the bags at Liv's feet. "Okay, that should do it."
She glanced down at the luggage. "Seriously, Lincoln, did you pack for a month?"
He ignored the jab, looking around for anything crucial he might have forgotten. "You can call me if there's anything else you need."
"It'll be fine. Guys," she said, looking between the two of them with Lincoln's most serious expression, "relax a little. Whatever this is, we can deal. We might even learn something about each other, and that'll be good for the team, right?"
Charlie eyed her suspiciously. "When did you get to be little miss sunshine?"
Liv started to say something and then changed course, smiling a little. "I dunno. Lincoln's body chemistry, maybe, hard to be cranky in this body. I can work on it."
"Spare me the frown lines," Lincoln said, motioning toward the door. "Let's get this traveling carnival on the road."
"'Course we're the freak show," Charlie griped, but headed out into the hall. As he was locking up, Lincoln made a mental note to think about Liv's comment; if their bodies really were influencing their frame of mind, that suggested a strong connection between their displaced personalities and currently inhabited bodies. Body chemistry did have a strong influence on mood, of course, but in their particular case the subject bore more examination.
The ride to Olivia's apartment was thankfully short and quiet, because Lincoln was feeling tapped out on banter. Her place was kind of a mess-it always devolved when Frank was away-but he wasn't even up to ribbing her about that.
Liv and Charlie had picked up the slack, mocking each other back and forth as Liv gathered up clothes for Charlie's new body. She came out of the bedroom, her mouth twitching in amusement. "Now, I know some of this might seem arcane to you-"
"I do know how bras work," Charlie said dryly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll remember to sit down when you pee, right?" -and ducked, laughing, as Charlie aimed a mock punch in her direction. "But listen, Charlie," she started, and Lincoln stepped away. That sounded like the kind of personal discussion he really wanted to hear and shouldn't listen to.
And, yeah. Charlie was shaking his head, definitely blushing, and Liv chuckled as she patted her own cheek. Finally Charlie nodded and grabbed Liv's clothing bag, glancing over at Lincoln. "See you at the car." He went out, moving swiftly.
"Okay, Lincoln your turn." Liv looked at him expectantly, but he was drawing a blank. "I already got the lesson about aiming," she said after a moment, sounding amused. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Nope," Lincoln said glumly, trying not to think about what she might do with his body later.
Liv hesitated, eyes searching his face. "Lincoln...I'll be careful, I promise."
"Yeah. I know you will." He nodded and smiled, trying to project confidence he didn't feel. Again, Charlie's voice did wonders to cover his nervousness. "Just, you know. iDon'tforgettouselube,/i" he said, all in a rush, and hustled out of the apartment before Liv could do anything more than let out a startled laugh. Because he knew his body, and if Liv hadn't had a spontaneous erection moment one was imminent any moment now, and he'd rather not return to a chafed dick.
Charlie's was the last stop before home, and Lincoln was more than ready to be gone. Seeing Charlie's mannerisms starting to manifest in Liv's body was giving him all kind of cognitive dissonance. "Just throw some stuff in a bag, I'm wiped."
"You're not using my toothbrush," Charlie grumbled.
"It's your mouth!" Lincoln retorted. "And I already gave mine to Liv, so hand it over."
"Yeah, fine." Charlie moved around his place with efficiency, gathering clothes, until he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Lincoln with narrowed eyes. "Stop looking at my ass."
There was a heart-stopping moment of sheer terror before Lincoln saw the small smile curling over Liv's lips. "...shit, Charlie. That was *mean.*"
Charlie smirked at him. "Didn't figure a change of internal resident would stop you."
Lincoln leaned against the wall, groaning. He would have flopped into a chair, but if he did, there'd be no getting back up. "This is...this is all kinds of screwed up, man. I look at Liv and hear you and-" it doesn't help that I want to fuck you both, he narrowly avoided saying. "-I can't even complain about our lives suddenly being a ridiculous iStar Trek/i episode, because how is that different than any other day? It's just-"
"Linc. Stop." Even with Liv's voice, Charlie could always command his attention. "Take a breath. Go home. Do- do what you gotta do to relax tonight."
Not a word about the bugs, because Charlie trusted him that much. But Charlie's stress had to be even worse. "Listen to me bitch, I sound even crankier than you usually do. Are you gonna be okay?"
Charlie flapped a hand at him. "I'm channeling my newfound innate Dunham coolness under pressure."
Lincoln snorted, genuinely amused. "Yeah, you are. Call me if you freak out, okay? I don't want to be the only one."
Liv's face did that thing where she was thinking something she wasn't sure she wanted to say, only she was better at hiding it than Charlie was. "Charlie?"
"It's- this is gonna sound awful." Charlie sighed. "But however long this lasts, even if we all wake up in our own bodies again tomorrow-"
"Doubt it, though that'd be awesome," Lincoln said, and then made an apologetic "go on" motion.
"-while it's going on, I don't have to worry about the bugs. I know that sucks for you, but..."
"No, I get it," Lincoln said quietly. "I guess...Liv was right, maybe. Try to focus on the good stuff, or at least the new and interesting stuff." Charlie raised an eyebrow at him and Lincoln rolled his eyes. "I wasn't even talking about that, for once. Although-"
"*Out,*" Charlie said, pointing at the door. "And I don't wanna see this showing up on the iPlayhouse/i forums. You know, 'Me and my partners got body-swapped and debauchery ensued.'"
"Sounds like I'm not the only one who's been thinking about that," Lincoln snarked back, and went.
He was genuinely exhausted by the time he climbed the stairs to his apartment again. God, he needed a drink. But he'd never been much for drinking alone, and given Charlie's proven capacity for alcohol, he'd be deep into a bottle before it had the desired effect. Lincoln figured Charlie could destroy his liver on his own time. He prowled around his apartment, studiously avoiding any mirrors. He was still too freaked out to sleep, nothing on tv was remotely going to distract him from his current situation, so that left...
"Do what you gotta do," Charlie had said.
It wasn't like he had the most cause for stress because between the three of them, Lincoln knew that he'd gotten off easiest. Even considering the bugs.
-granted, that was a lot to consider. Even when they were quiescent, Lincoln *knew* the arachnids were there, just under the surface, and knowing that made him want to claw his skin off. Charlie's skin. The docs had given him a mild anti-anxiety prescription and Lincoln was taking it, gladly. If anything positive was to come out of this, he'd have a far better understanding of what Charlie dealt with on a daily basis. He'd already been impressed by his friend; now he was awed by Charlie's fortitude and resolve.
But not awed enough to keep from...exploring...his new home. Charlie had given him carte blanche, and damned if Lincoln wasn't going to take it.
The old joke about the size of a guy's feet being related to the size of his dick turned out to be true, at least in Charlie's case. And yeah, getting Charlie's body off was no less of a cheat than it would have been with Liv; Lincoln had entertained more than a few fantasies about Charlie, too. But Charlie would understand about the need for stress relief, if not the rest of it.
He might've made a mental note or three about Charlie's responses. For the future. Just in case.
Lincoln slept eventually, but his rest was neither peaceful nor satisfying. As soon as the sun hit the windowsill he was up, dropping immediately into his morning exercise routine.
Mistake. Charlie wasn't out of shape by any means, but he had over a decade on Lincoln and all his muscles protested the unfamiliar exertion. Apart from that, it turned out that Charlie's body really hated mornings. His system had never really gotten over its thwarted caffeine addiction, which explained all the growliness.
He went rummaging in the freezer for his hoarded chocolate-covered coffee beans, figuring this counted as genuine emergency. Once fortified, Lincoln figured he'd give it one more shot, calling the office as soon as he felt more like a human being.
Colonel Broyles was adamant. "Absolutely not, Captain Lee," he said with only the briefest hesitation at addressing Charlie's face on his screen. "If I see any of you within 50 yards of division or any Fringe scene I'll have you committed and put on watch, because attempting to work in your condition would clearly be a sign of mental illness." His expression softened slightly. "We're working on it, I promise."
"But what if-"
"Save it." The commanding tone was back, but there was a twitch at the corner of Broyles' mouth. "For right now, just...keep yourself together."
Lincoln stared through the screen. "I'm in someone else's body and you're *joking?*"
Broyles shrugged a little. "There is quite a bit of humor inherent in the situation." He held up a hand before Lincoln could explode. "It's not funny to you, I know. And no one here thinks it is either. I'm not willing to give up on three of my best agents, no matter what it takes to get you back on the job."
"But-" Lincoln started, and sighed as Broyles narrowed his eyes. "Off duty for the duration, yessir."
"Good." Broyles glanced off screen, then back at him. "Stay sane, Captain."
"Easier said than done," Lincoln muttered, but Broyles had already signed off.
They'd agreed to meet the next morning at the diner near Lincoln's apartment. Charlie was already there, Liv's hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.
"Won't ask how you slept, 'cause I know I couldn't get comfortable," Charlie said, without as much as a good morning nod.
"Yeah, too much creaking in your old bones," Lincoln shot back as he slid into the booth, but his heart wasn't in it. "Listen, uh, if you want a full report-"
"Don't need to know," Charlie said flatly. "Bugs aren't coming out of my skin, you're doing fine."
Lincoln looked at him sideways. "You doing okay?"
Charlie rolled his-Liv's-eyes. "Wouldn't dare complain, after getting an earful from Liv about how 'lucky' I am that she hardly ever has her period anymore, and how I would've crumbled with the cramps she used to get."
Lincoln paused, processing. "...way too much information."
"That's what I said!" Charlie sounded like the situation was finally getting to him. "I had to *blow-dry*all this hair this morning. At least Liv ordered me not to shave her legs. Didn't want to come back to find her legs covered with razor cuts."
God, it was killing him not to ask for more details. Change of topic time. "I tried to get Broyles to let us come in. No go. So...we should keep busy somehow so we don't go stir-crazy."
"Enforced vacation," Charlie said in a tone better served for a funeral, "great."
The bell above the door jingled and Lincoln watched his body push through the door. Liv started to greet them both but Lincoln interrupted, staring at his own head. "What did you do to my hair?"
She shot him a look and wow, his bitchface really was awesome. "No way I was messing with all your bottles and sprays and crap. It looks fine."
"It's...flat!" Lincoln said, knowing he was being whiny and unreasonable.
"Kids," Charlie said in his best forbidding tone-which in Liv's voice came out a whole lot more threatening- "behave."
Lincoln and Liv looked at each other through unfamiliar, too-familiar eyes. "Truce," Olivia said softly, and Lincoln nodded.
"Okay," he said, determined to act like a team leader even if he really didn't feel like it. "So we've got a day off. We're always bitching about the lack of leave time, so now that we've got it, what should we do with it?"
They ended up wandering the streets of New York after breakfast, doing their best to get lost and for the most part, failing miserably. They all knew the city too well. But they poked through antique stores and gawked as the remaining famous landmarks like any tourists with too much time on their hands. And the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum were always awesome, no matter what the circumstances.
Lincoln wasn't at his best-or Charlie's best, for that matter-feeling tired and dry-mouthed. He chalked that up to the meds, although the alternative would be worse. There really wasn't any upside to the situation, but as the day went on, Lincoln did try to look for the positives.
Charlie's body had a good sense of balance, and his sense of smell was probably better than Lincoln's own. There was a feeling of strength in his muscles, a sense of coiled power, that made Lincoln want to (carefully) try out the weight room at his apartment and compare to his own limits. Still, he found himself stepping awkwardly as he tried to adjust to Charlie's different stride. Lincoln concentrated on finding a comfortable rhythm and tried to ignore how his body's hips swung too much as Liv walked.
Late in the afternoon they wandered into a street fair. It seemed like half the city had turned out, with everyone eager to share bites of food and sips of homebrewed liquor. Lincoln found his stomach churning at some of the smells he knew he'd otherwise find enticing, while Liv happily shoveled bits of everything into her face. "Lincoln, I knew you had a huge appetite, but this is ridiculous," she grinned at him, before darting off to investigate the whiff of something new.
And Charlie-
People kept hitting on Charlie, and he was getting more surly by the second about turning them down. Lincoln hadn't really spent a lot of time with Liv in public outside the context of Fringe cases, where everyone was generally too freaked out to notice how attractive she was. This particular crowd was amped up on the excitement of the day and some people were getting a little too friendly.
He hadn't really thought about how that must suck for her, being hit on all the time, and resolved again to make sure his own behavior didn't cross the line. Meanwhile, he figured he might as well have some fun with it. He put on Charlie's best glare and aimed it at anyone who looked like he (or she) was trying to get into Charlie's personal space.
Liv caught wind of what he was doing. "...I honestly don't know whether to protest that Charlie and I don't need protecting, or to say that's really sweet. A touch chauvinist, though. I mean, people keep flirting with me too, and you haven't reacted to that." She paused, then leaned over conspiratorially. "Don't worry, though. I'd definitely ask your permission before taking the equipment out for a trial run."
She bounced away, laughing, while Lincoln stared after her.
"That's it, I'm done," Charlie announced after catching yet another lecherous stare. "I'm outta here. You wanna hang out, I'll get a cab-"
"Nah, I'm done too." He caught sight of Liv, chewing on what looked like a giant turkey leg. "Damn, I'm a pig."
Charlie snorted a laugh. "Yeah, you are. I think she's having a good time living vicariously through your stomach."
"Well, see if you can snag a taxi at the edge of this crowd, I'll check if she'd ready to go." Lincoln didn't expect that she would be, but Liv nodded and tossed the rest of her food in the nearest trash can, wiping her hands on his cargo pants.
"It's weird, but I want to go home and make notes. What it's like being hit on as a man, rather than a woman. Maybe publish a paper somewhere." She bit her lip to look on his face. "Or not?"
"Probably worth doing, for the Fringe servers if nowhere else. In case this happens to anyone else," he said, trying for objectivity. "Charlie's getting a cab."
They rode home to their apartments in silence. Liv slowly drifted sideways onto him, her (his) head finding a rest against his (Charlie's) shoulder.
They'd all agreed to take a break from each other the next day. He couldn't speak for Charlie and Liv, but as much as Lincoln loved spending time with them, he just...wanted to do it in his own body.
Lincoln spent the morning sitting around in Charlie's sweatpants and using his own datapad, catching up on the latest science journals. He went for a run to burn off energy, mindful of Charlie's limits. He paid meticulous attention to the injections, took the alprazolam as prescribed, and tried to ignore the imagined scratching under his skin.
Fringe Division wouldn't let him back into the building, okay, but he couldn't just sit here and do nothing about the situation. Lincoln called up someone he knew at the D.O.D. to get access to the data from their tests, just to look over them and see if he could spot anything useful. Arrogant thought, sure, but at least he felt like he was doing something.
But the data didn't tell him anything new. On the other side of the aisle, the science team didn't have anything to report either. He even called Farnsworth to double-check that they weren't hiding some piece of information, because Farnsworth would never lie to him. "No, Captain Lee, there is nothing new on the warehouse or who might have been using it," she said, her voice admirably not reflecting the fact that she was repeating herself. He appreciated her restraint, at least. "You and your team will be alerted as soon as we have any new information."
As the day wore on, he felt himself getting twitchier and twitchier in a way that had nothing to do with the bugs under Charlie's skin. Separation anxiety, he thought sourly, didn't take a shrink to figure that one out.
He was determined not to break and on the verge anyway when Liv called. "Hey, I was talking to Charlie, you want to meet at his place for dinner tonight?" she said all in a rush, without any preamble. So maybe he wasn't the only one. "He said he'd order from that Greek place you like."
"Sounds great," Lincoln said, striving for casual. "Everything- everything all right?"
"Yeah, Lincoln, you're not so high maintenance," she teased. "I did your nails, though, the cuticles were a mess."
Her joke would have been more effective if he'd ever known Liv to do more with her fingernails than keep them cut short. "...I hope you painted them a very pretty color."
She giggled, warm in his ear, disconcerting in his voice. "Just for that, I should. See you around seven?"
"Seven," he confirmed, and as usual she clicked off without saying another word.
Lincoln held out for as long as he could, but figured Charlie would forgive him if he showed up early. And yeah, when he knocked Charlie seemed relieved to see him all in one piece.
Liv's hair was back in a messy ponytail, and Charlie kept blowing strands of her bangs out of his eyes. "Saved by the bell. You gave me an excuse to get off the phone. I had to talk to her boyfriend and pretend nothing was wrong. That wasn't awkward or anything."
Lincoln bit back a laugh. "Aw. Frank's a good guy." He had to keep reminding himself of that, both because it was true and because it wasn't Frank's fault he'd met Liv first and captured her heart before Lincoln ever had a shot.
Charlie just grumbled and waved him inside. "Your day as boring as mine?"
"Boringer, I bet. I mean, all I have are bugs to keep me company. You have boobs." Lincoln grinned to take the sting out of it.
"Not as much fun as you'd think," Charlie said dryly, but Lincoln never got to find out what Charlie meant before Liv knocked on the door and swept into the apartment without waiting for Charlie to answer.
His fingernails, he noted with a quick glance, weren't sporting any technicolor flash. That was almost a shame; it'd been a long time since he'd decked himself out for clubbing or parties, and he'd been curious to see what Liv would have done.
"Ordered food yet?" she demanded, and Charlie smirked.
"Sounds exactly like you, Linc. It's ready to go on speed dial." Charlie tapped a spot on his cuff. "Okay, there. Shouldn't be but a few minutes."
Liv nodded, looking over the two of them. "Great. No change, right? I still feel the same."
"Yeah," Lincoln said, and Charlie echoed him. "Nothing new from division. I checked."
"Figured you did." Liv flashed him a smile, then turned on Charlie. "Ugh, my hair's in knots. Let me fix that for you." Without another word she went into the bathroom and came back out holding a hairbrush. She dropped down on the couch, motioning for Charlie to sit on the floor. "C'mon, it won't hurt."
"So weird," Charlie muttered, but complied.
It was almost too much for Lincoln to take, watching his body sit on the couch, brushing Liv's hair like he'd always wanted to. Even worse, seeing her sitting there between his legs-
He got up abruptly. "Anyone need a beer?"
Charlie turned a sour eye up at Liv. "You had to give me your defective taste buds, too."
She looked startled, then laughed. "Hey, that's right. Maybe alcohol won't taste so gross to me now. Sure, throw me one."
Lincoln retrieved two beers from Charlie's fridge. "It's not even a fair test, though. All Charlie has is this crappy cold stuff."
"My house, my beer," Charlie said from the floor. "You don't like it, save it for when I can appreciate it again."
Lincoln watched his own Adam's apple bob as Liv swallowed. She held the bottle in front of her, frowning. "Huh, weird. It's like my brain knows I don't like it, but I'm not having the same urge to wash my mouth out. It's still not good, though."
Lincoln raised an eyebrow at Charlie, who ignored him. "Might be worth an experiment. I should've brought along the good bourbon."
"That's not a contradiction?" Liv snarked, but her heart clearly wasn't in it. "Probably just as well. Hung over *and* body-swapped would be too over the top."
"Oh, that's the limit?" Charlie started, but paused as Lincoln's ear cuff beeped.
Lincoln tapped it and listened to the voice on the other end, mouthing "division" and then "update" to Charlie and Liv.
By the looks on their faces, they already knew what he was going to report by the end of the call. "They don't know anything new. We're stable, according to all the monitors." Lincoln waved toward the device stuck on his arm. "But this is day three, and if none of us have had any kind of reaction, it's not likely we're gonna start. So- I think we need to seriously think about how we're going to fix this."
"'And all this science I don't understand,'" Liv sang softly off-key, "'It's just my job six days a week.' You got an idea division doesn't?"
Lincoln sighed. "No. But we should work the case anyway. Break it down, Charlie."
"'Who' is a big blank mystery," Charlie said without hesitation. "'What' is this nonsense, and since we seem to be a unique incidence, our Mystery Guy-"
"-or Girl," Liv put in.
"-or Girl, right, although most of our mad scientists tend to be men. Anyway, Mystery Person doesn't seem to have been running around randomly body-swapping people before now."
Lincoln frowned. "No, and that's- why is that? Why us?"
"Finally got the process perfected?" Liv suggested. "But yeah, that suggests other trials, and there's been no hint of that."
"So 'when' is two days ago," Charlie continued, "and the 'where' is either random coincidence that we found that warehouse, or we were led right to it at the right time."
"You think we were targeted?" Liv asked.
Charlie shrugged. "Can't say. But I'm gonna go with yes. Gut instinct."
Lincoln blew out a breath. "And that brings us back to 'why.' "
"Because...we're all in good shape?" Liv said slowly. "That's probably part of it, but we've also got access to some of the best medical facilities on the continent."
"So Mystery Person gets to use the D.O.D. as his personal testing laboratory. That's ballsy, if nothing else." Lincoln wished he had something more encouraging to say, some new idea about how to restore everyone to their own bodies, but he was fresh out of inspiration. "There isn't even anything to trace. Satellite footage doesn't show any unusual equipment or activity around the warehouse."
"And whoever it was knows how to stay under the radar and how to put enough of a ping on ours to draw a Fringe team out to investigate. We were set up from the word go." Charlie looked like he was about to launch into a frustrated rant, but the doorbell rang. Charlie pointed at Lincoln. "You get it. Delivery guy knows me."
"You won't mind when I use your credit, then," Lincoln shot back, glad for the interruption.
The arrival of the food signaled an end to the conversation. They all dug into the huge pile of turkey souvlaki, pulling pita apart with their fingers and fighting over the last pieces of spanakopita.
A few hours later and they were lazily flicking through channels, idly watching a few moments of each show before moving on to the next. No one was making any move to leave, and Charlie wasn't chasing them out, so Lincoln slouched back and did his best to relax. If he ended up crashing on Charlie's couch, it wouldn't be the first time.
He caught a faint whiff of something sweet, registering too late that it smelled familiar as his vision started to go dim. Liv had already tilted over toward Charlie, and Charlie's eyes were closed and his head was back against the couch. Lincoln was reaching for his cuff to call for help, his body moving like it was swimming through molasses, when everything went dark.
He woke in the D.O.D. hospital, immediately familiar from his previous stay. Out of habit, he glanced down at his hands-
*His* hands. Lincoln blinked, not daring to believe it, but when he looked up he saw Liv over on another bed, smiling at him, and Charlie dozing across the room.
"Welcome back," she said, her smile getting wider. "Let me sum up: mysterious gas, division is trying to trace it, we all got put back in our own bodies again."
Lincoln clenched his hands, mostly so he wouldn't reach for his dick to check things out for himself. "What the hell was this, Liv? Some mad scientist's idea of a joke?"
"Dunno. If it was supposed to be a lesson in how the other half lives..." something complicated went over her face. "Lincoln, I appreciate that you trusted me with your body. I was careful."
"I'm sure you did fine," he said hastily. "Nothing broken, nothing hurts. All good."
"Nothing chafed," Liv murmured, but then Charlie woke up and Liv turned to give him the rundown, leaving Lincoln with his mouth hanging open and absolutely nothing to say.
The doctors came in shortly thereafter for another exhaustive round of tests, mirrors to the ones they'd gone through the first time. Everything checked out, no one's neurons seemed to have been scrambled, no leftover brainwave patterns or behavioral tics. They'd all been plucked out of each others' bodies and put neatly back in place, with no aftereffects.
And no answers. There had to be an explanation-Lincoln wasn't putting any bets on "rational," considering this was a Fringe case-but right now it looked like this one was going to be put aside with all the other unexplained and unsolved X-Files. Yeah, they'd keep looking, but without any further leads, the team would soon be back trying to keep the rest of the world from falling apart.
When the three of them returned to division, they were called in to a meeting with Colonel Broyles and Secretary Bishop. "We had one final development in your case," Broyles said, looking even more like he'd been chewing on lemons than usual. "We received an encrypted file, no traceable address. Once our techs hacked it, this is what they found."
He pulled up an image on the computer screen, a simple text message.
iI apologize for using Captain Lee and his team as experimental subjects, but I needed to determine if a combination of very specifically designed nanotech and memory B lymphocytes would effect a complete transfer of personality. Of soul, if you will. The test proved successful and the subjects now should all be restored to their original state, no harm done./i
The note was unsigned.
"No harm," Liv growled, but Lincoln was too relieved to be back in his own body to quibble.
"B lymphocytes," the Secretary murmured. "Fascinating." He glance around, realizing everyone was looking at him. "But, ah. There seems to be no lingering effects of this process, correct?"
"No, sir," Lincoln replied, after a quick glance at Charlie and Liv.
"Very good. We will of course continue to try to find the architect of this assault. "
Lincoln didn't care for the way the Secretary said "architect," as if he admired the obviously criminal mad scientist who'd done this to them. And yeah, the science behind the swap was completely brilliant, but Lincoln wasn't inclined to appreciate anything about the process or its perpetrator.
Broyles nodded to them. "You're released from leave and free to return to duty as soon as you feel ready."
"Fringe events won't fix themselves, sir," Liv said simply, winning herself a tight grin.
"Dismissed."
Once back at their desks, the three of them spent the rest of the day sorting through emails and updates and dealing with co-workers who wanted to offer condolences for the ordeal, congratulations for surviving it, or who thought it was still hilarious to address Lincoln as "bug-boy." They weren't, he noticed, pulling that shit on Liv or Charlie.
Toward the end of the day, Liv leaned over her desk and quietly said what they were all thinking. "Not a little suspicious that we got put back right after all the tests came back, saying we were okay. And whoever did this knew when we were all together."
They were on the same page. Lincoln nodded, his voice grim. "Whoever was running this has spies in Fringe Division."
But there was nothing they could do about that now, except keep watch for suspicious activity. They depended on the rest of the division to have their backs in the field, and a crack in that trust could prove deadly for all involved. Without proof, there was nothing to move on.
Charlie huffed a laugh, breaking the tension. "Meanwhile, we should swear that what happened during the, uh, great body-swap caper of '09 never gets referred to again."
Lincoln agreed, they all did, but he knew it wouldn't last. Sooner or later they'd all need to confess, to talk about what they did and felt while wearing each others' skins.
He couldn't wait.
NOTES
I started writing this (as usual) with no idea of the plot or the mechanism behind the body-swap...and belatedly realized the show had already done all the work for me. William Bell used the Fringe team as a test to make sure his soul magnets process would work on Olivia...and Walternate learned some new mad science (!SKIENCE!) to use on Olivia later, to insert Liv's memories in her head. Yay for show making sense of crackfic plotting! *beams* Also, the gas used on the team is the same one Meana used to knock out Olivia at the end of "Wallflower."
I wrote body-swap fic that wasn't an excuse (typoed: sexcuse!) for porn. Oops? Maybe someone should write a follow up or a porny remix? :D