Disclaimer: I don't own Van Helsing™, or other related characters unless they weren't in the movie or in the animated prequel.  Capeesh?

Summary: Lady Tavington's having a little bit of fun with her new favorite character in the whole wide world (well, behind Faramir…)!  Premise of the story is that the night before the immediate events of this fic began, something wrong went down in Carl's lab with him and Van Helsing (no, no, MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER!  THERE'S NOT ENOUGH ROOM IN HERE FOR ALL OUR MINDS!), so now he wakes up in someone else's body.  I just spoiled for you who's body he ended up in, didn't I?  Oh well…reviews of all kinds are welcome, of course, I've never been picky with reviews.  Enjoy, Carl fans!

Dedications: OMG, I almost forgot.  Thanks and dedications go to Bikuki, a wonderful wonderful fellow Carl/David Wenham fan, to Marina, a similarly great fellow David Wenham-ite, to Sarah who's been my fanfic backbone for a year now, to all my fellow David Wenham fans, and to David Wenham, which is a pointless dedication really, not like the stars themselves ever really READ fanfiction…

MOBILICORPUS
A Friar Carl Fanfic
By Lady Tavington
Rated PG-13 for some violence
ENJOY.

CHAPTER 1

The morning sunlight crept slowly up over the wall and spilled into the room through the windows, covering Carl's face irritatingly. But Carl would not get up. He had been working all night, and for as long as he knew, he'd done a good job, worth rewarding with a good night's rest. He stubbornly turned on his side with a protesting grunt, so that the sun spilled on his back instead. With an annoyed sigh, he tried to fall asleep again, but the incessant pounding he felt in his head banished any more hope he had of it. With another grunt, he threw his covers aside and rubbed his eyes, realising only then that the pounding was not in his head, but was coming from the other side of the door.
"Carl!" he heard an oddly familiar voice call, "Carl! CARL!" Yes, the voice did sound strangely familiar, but the sleepy friar couldn't put a finger on whom it might belong to. His vision cleared, gradually, then another realisation hit him. He remembered, quite clearly, falling asleep in his lab. What was he doing in a bedchamber, and someone else's bedchamber at that? How did he get there? And why did the visitor sound so damn familiar?
He got up gingerly, suddenly feeling as if his weight didn't feel like his own, and that he wasn't supporting himself as easily as usual. Almost compulsively, he took a familiar black hat that wasn't his from the table by the door and put it on, taking the doorknob in his hand and wrenching the blasted door open. What-or rather who-he saw took him completely by surprise that he almost fell over and back.
He was staring down at the livid, angry figure of his own self.
The angry Friar Carl on the other side of the door grabbed the real Carl (at least he knew HE was the real Carl) by the scruff of his collar and brought his head down to the same level of his own with a mighty jerk. It was then that Carl knew he was himself, for the enraged Carl he was staring incredulously at had green eyes. Carl knew he had blue eyes.
"What did you do?!" shouted Angry Carl in Carl's own voice, "What in the nine levels of hell did you do?!" "I don't know!" replied Carl in a voice deeper than his own, the accent muddled, "I can't remember a thing!" A lock of black hair fell in front of his face, and he flicked it off with a swish of his head. Angry Carl growled and shook Real Carl roughly. "You reverse this!" he shouted, "You find a way to reverse this, or I swear to God, you're going to have hell to pay!" Real Carl coughed and sputtered. "Look, I don't even know what happened!" he gasped, "I don't even know who the hell you are, much less who the hell I am now!" "WOULD YOU STOP SWEARING!?!" Angry Carl spat (and Real Carl got hit in the face with it too), "MONK, FRIAR...WHATEVER! JUST STOP CURSING!"
With those words, Real Carl finally understood who he was talking with, this man who had him by the collar, almost choking him. He squinted at the figure in front of him. "V-Van Helsing?" he asked uncertainly. Angry Carl rolled his eyes, irritated. "You were expecting the Queen of France, maybe?!" he shouted. Carl put a hand to his mouth, a bolt of elation and pride shooting through his system. "Oh my God..." he whispered, as his other hand almost involuntarily pried Van Helsing's hands off him, "Oh my God..." Carl, in Van Helsing's body, walked away very slowly. Van Helsing, in Carl's body, crossed his arms, squinched up his face in an incredulous look and shook his head. "It worked..." Carl whispered to himself, "It worked, it actually worked!" And he started to laugh to himself quite loudly that Van Helsing thought he might be waking half the country with it already.
"Pardon the interruption," Van Helsing said sarcastically, "but, what EXACTLY worked so well that I'm half-expecting you to do a victory dance in your joy?" "My potion!" Carl boasted, "My potion! The one I've been secretly working on for 5 years! MY OWN POTION!" And he began laughing like a madman again. When he started jumping around, Van Helsing knew he was going to have to do something about it.
He stepped in and held fast to Carl, trying desperately to hold him down, and shouted his name at him a couple (of hundred) of times, trying to calm him. "Hey, hey, hey, CARL! CALM DOWN!" Gradually, Carl's display of elation dissipated. "One, I think you're taking this happy-happy-joy-joy thing a bit far," Van Helsing remarked, "Two, the sight of my body jumping up and down like that, and the sound of my voice elatedly shouting 'MY POTION! MY POTION!' at the top of my lungs is just...disturbing." Carl sheepishly cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Right," he said quietly, "Sorry."
Van Helsing let go of him. "I'm...glad your experiment worked," he said, practically ripping his hat off of Carl's head, "Is there a way to reverse it? An antidote, or a spell, or something? Because I'm not about to spend the rest of my life as you. No offense." Carl shrugged, and turned away, genuinely rather stung by the words. "None taken," he choked, then he cleared his throat again. "If I told you I haven't figured that part out yet, would you kill me?" he stuttered uneasily. Van Helsing slackened, and he slammed his palm against a wall a little too roughly as he swore. "OW!" he said, and Carl jumped. "Hey, be careful with my hands!" he said as he tried to stop Van Helsing from shaking his hurt hand, "Those hands just happen to make most the weapons that make you the revered, respected hero that you are." "And they're also the hands that made a body-switching potion without an antidote," Van Helsing replied, moving away from Carl's grasp. "Ouch," Carl answered, "You really don't know how to properly appreciate genius when you see it." "No," Van Helsing said, turning to the door, "But I do know that this day can't get any worse."
It was then, just before he reached the door, that another friar appeared seemingly out of nowhere at the doorway, blocking Van Helsing. He looked past the real Van Helsing right at Carl in Van Helsing's body. "The Cardinal wants to see you, Van Helsing," he said, "He says it's important." Then he eyed Van Helsing in Carl's body with a rather hateful, jealous glare. "You too, Carl," he said in a matching tone, and with that he left. Van Helsing narrowed his eyes, raising an eyebrow. "I stand corrected," he said, half to himself, half to Carl, "It just got worse."

A/N: More on the way, I promise!  For now, please please PLEASE review.  Thanks!