So I was rereading the first chapter, and I was just like, "This . . . sucks. Like, really, really badly sucks." I was seriously considering deleting it and trying to forget it ever existed. But then someone faved and followed, so I . . . yeah.

Without further ado, I give you the second chapter.


Britany was cheerfully chatting with Scott about the different types of animals that could do things that most people considered impossible. Well, technically, she was talking and he was looking at her with the sidelong glance of labeling the subject of said look as an insane person. Which, to be fair, Britany possibly was.

Clara whispered, "Brit, slap me."

Britany gave her a strange look; but nevertheless, slapped Clara on the arm.

Clara shrieked in pain, then yelled, "THAT HURT! YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO FEEL PAIN IN DREAMS, BUT THAT HURT REALLY BAD!"

Britany coughed and offered, "Um . . ."

With that wise speech, she nodded sagely and continued walking.

Clara slapped Britany.

"Hey!"

"See? I'm not sleeping; you aren't sleeping - and Scott Summers is walking next to us!"

Britany opened her mouth . . . and closed it.

"HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT?!"

"Well," Britany said slowly, "you are. So when you stop freaking out, I most likely will start."

"AND WE'RE IN OUR PAJAMAS!"

"Uh-huh."

"AND - AND - AND - WE DON'T HAVE ANY TOILETRIES!"

"Is this my cue to hug you, pat your back, and promise you that everything will be alright?"

Clara breathed in deeply.

"Oh," Britany said suddenly.

"What?"

"I just realized that we're about to meet possibly the most powerful telepath to ever exist, and we might have knowledge of the future. Also, Scott Summers has stopped walking and is staring at us and probably considering finding the nearest mental asylum to drop us off. Oh, and let's not forget that we're in an alternate universe and -"

Britany stopped.

"What?" Clara demanded.

"Weeeell, we're in a place that's basically our home, except not. And since we exist in our place, it might be possible that an alternate us exists here? And because we're here, they might be there, like a switched position thing -"

Clara groaned.

"On the plus side, we probably still have parents," Britany said weakly.

"You know, it might make me feel better if you weren't so . . . logical and . . . you right now!"

"Actually, you're usually the logical one."

"Yeah, my logic pretty much went out the window when I found out that -"

Scott cleared his throat. "Um . . . could you continue this conversation . . . in the professor's office?"

"You don't have to be so polite, ya know," Britany sniffed. "If you want to get rid of us, just say so!"

"What - I didn't -"

Britany continued her regaling over the okapi.


"Hi!" Britany chirped.

Scott cleared his throat. "They just . . . appeared. In their pajamas. And they said some stuff . . . I really don't . . ."

Professor Charles Xavier raised an eyebrow.

"So," Britany sang out, "I can't believe that I'm talking to you. You! Okay, it would have been cooler if it was Patrick Stewart - who doesn't love Patrick Stewart? - but you're awesome in your own right, I guess."

"Stuff like that?" Charles said drily.

"YupIguesssoandidyouknowthatyou'rejustamade-upcharacterinamoviefranchisewherewe'refromandsoyourlivesandstrugglesarenothingbutentertainmentfortheaverageAmericanorBritishpersonorCanadianorwhateverbutareallypopularoneeventhoughDoctorWhoissomuchcoolerbutokay," Britany said in one breath.

Clara groaned and massaged her forehead.

Charles blinked.

Scott looked even more confused than before.

Britany just grinned and asked, "So what's goin' on with you?"

"Scott," Charles said slowly, "I believe it might be best if you leave."

Scott did so, and with a glad and joyful heart.

"So -," Charles began.

"Just a sec," Britany said, then screamed at the top of her lungs for a full five seconds. "Okay, I'm good."

"Not fair," Clara grumbled. "I freaked out for longer than that."

Charles said wryly, "So why don't we go through this again?"

"Ya know, it'd just be easier if you did the mind-whammy thing. Provided you don't look at stuff that's completely private and/or that doesn't pertain to you."

"Britany!"

"Wha-at?"

Charles cleared his throat. "So are you -"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Clara muttered what sounded like a really bad word under her breath.

"Language," Charles commented.

"Oh, you'll understand why she's in a bad mood soon," Britany drawled.

"Right. So . . . just relax a bit . . ."

"How much is 'a bit'?"

"How much do you think is a bit?"

"I'm pretty sure that the definition of bit varies from person to per -"

"Britany, just shut up and relax your mind," Clara said sweetly.

"Fine."


"So," Britany drew out. "Exactly how does this work?"

"Well, draw up a memory to make it easier -"

- Jean held in choke-hold by Logan, Rogue screaming, Moira crying, Raven talking with Hank, Erik playing chess with Charles, Pietro saving their lives, Jean dying, Phoenix killing Scott, Jean alive, Scott alive, Kitty walking through walls, Kurt talking in German, Erik kissing Raven, Charles talking to Logan, kids running and laughing, the coin digging into Shaw's brain, Rogue and Bobby kissing, Raven shouting "mutant and proud", Charles yelling at Erik and Erik yelling back, Pietro standing in front of the guard duct-taped to the wall -

"Sorry, they're not exactly chronological."

"This is . . . unusual. Very unusual."

"Eh. Alternate universes. Who knows? Maybe somewhere Clara's and my lives are a book or story or television show."

"I - sorry, this is strange -"

"Understatement of the year, yeah?" Britany paused. "No offense, but can you get out of my head and continue this whole converse out loud with both me and Clara?"

"Of course."


"So do you know how we can get back?" Clara demanded.

"Ah . . . no."

"Brilliant," she muttered.

"Let's look on the plus side," Britany said. "We aren't . . . dead?"

"Wow, see how cheered up I am?"

Charles said quickly, "We will, of course. But until then . . . you can stay here."

"Uh . . . we aren't mutants," Britany said.

"And?"

"Um . . . well . . . won't we sorta . . . stand out? And what about the possibility that -"

Britany turned bright red.

"The possibility?"

"Weeeell . . ."

Clara interceded: "The possibility that there are two Clara's and two Britany's and that we switched places with your Clara and Britany."

"Oh . . . my."

"Which means! Um . . . yeah, not sure what it means; but if it's true, my other me better not be messing up my life."

Clara sighed. "Pretty sure that's the least of our worries."

"Um, no. What if they're mutants, and they don't know it, and they accidentally kill . . . I dunno, my dad? Or what if they somehow die, and we switch back, and then we die?"

Clara smirked. "Or what if . . ."

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

"Yup, she's officially freaking out. Guess the scream was just a preview."

"I TOLD YOU THAT I'D FREAK OUT WHEN YOU STOPPED, AND YOU STOPPED . . . and oh, gosh, we don't have any clothes. Or a toothbrush. Or -"

"It's called shopping."

"It's also called not having money!"

"Okay, borrowing."

"You can't borrow a toothbrush," Britany hissed.

"Um . . . borrowing money?"

"Yeah, like someone's going to lend us over three hundred dollars -"

"Three hundred?!"

"Two of us, clothes, toiletries, et cetera -"

"Not three hundred, though!"

"Okay, maybe two. Or one, if we're careful. Or possibly fifty if we buy all the clothes minus under from thrift and clearance."

Charles coughed.

"Do you want to talk about this with . . . a female?"

Which was how they found themselves chatting with Ororo Monro.


A/N: Comments, corrections, suggestions?