Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, locations etc. mentioned in this fanfic. Hooray!

Author's Note: Wow, I can't believe that I got so many reviews! Thank you guys! I really appreciate your support. It means a lot to me! I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter and it took me weeks to do as it was such a difficult scene. I really hope you enjoy it, and once again, all reviews are greatly welcomed!

Here's my review responses:

DrKerryWeaver: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're finding the fic fun. I always find these sort of fanfics fun to read myself, so it's great to be writing one!

kylleee: Yeah – I had to get Monica to believe him otherwise there would be all sorts of complications in the plotting of the story XD I've edited that first chapter a little and will probably revise it in future. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Venused: Thank you – you have no idea how much I enjoyed writing that last sentence! Hehe. I totally agree with what you said about Monica. I have revised the first chapter a bit though it still needs work. It's so hard to keep people in character in such an AU situation but your comments are really helpful!

sn0zb0z: Thank you so much! I had fun writing Monica's reaction. There are more reactions in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it!

rajen48: Thank you! I hope you continue to enjoy the story with this chapter!

wolf with panther eyes: Thanks! I'm not brave enough to write a boy/girl switch, though I know there are some very well-written ones around! Glad you're enjoying it!

Llew: Thanks, I will do so! I have this all plotted out so I should hopefully be able to finish a fanfic for once, haha!

Tina: Here's the next chapter for you – thanks for your kind review! I hope you enjoy this one!

Setting: AU, at the beginning of Season Five during Monica and Chandler's secret relationship, just after The One Hundredth but before TOW The Kips (Joey has not found out about them yet). Mainly Chandler & Joey friendship (not slash), and a little mushy CM.

-Reflections-

A Friends Fan Fiction

Chapter Two

Chandler burst into his apartment, almost stumbling over his own feet. He fell against the breakfast counter as the door rattled against the refrigerator. It swung back to close, and the sudden slam made his heart jump. He raised his hand to his chest and tried to catch his breath, gasping like a swimmer just come up for air.

"Joey?" he gulped between breaths, "Joe, where are you?"

There was a small crash and a few muffled footsteps before a silhouetted figure staggered out of his bedroom. Chandler reached for the lights, but pulled away. Did he really want to see this? His hand hovered over the switch, and his heart was pounding so hard that he could hear each separate pulse thump in his ears. He swallowed. Come on, he told himself. It's just Joey.

But it wasn't. It wasn't just Joey. It was Joey and a whole host of other things he didn't want to think about. Things he never thought he would need to think about. The whole situation was so insane that he still couldn't convince himself it was real. He was a rational guy. He worked with numbers. Numbers were safe; they didn't change on a whim. A five was a five was a five. It didn't just change into a four.

It dawned upon him that this was one of those days when both math and reason were failing him.

Torn out of his thoughts, he jerked around as a table lamp blinked into life. It was then that his gaze met the figure across the room. He stared, fixated. If his eyes had been ping pong balls before, now they were the size of oranges. Standing with hand wrapped round a pull-cord, dressing gown loosely tied and hair in complete and total disarray, was…himself.

Only, it wasn't.

Chandler felt for a moment as if he had been paralysed. It was one thing seeing Joey's reflection in the mirror, but to see what appeared to be himself – himself – standing in front of him was an entirely different matter. And the matter was that this was an entirely different person. The awareness slowly set in that he was incapable of moving his own body, powerless even to lift a single one of his fingers. Oh God, he realised, terrified. He had more control over himself when he was drunk.

And now this body was striding toward him brandishing a broom.

"Woah," said Chandler, snapping back into quasi-reality. The fact that he was able to say anything at all surprised him, and he almost jumped at the sound of his voice. He backed away from the counter. "What…what are you doing there, pal?" The words came out with a nervous stammer.

The Joey-Chandler creature thrust the broom toward him and held it with shaking hands to his throat. "I…I don't know who you are, or…or where you came from," it said, its voice quivering and afraid, "but you tell me what's going on here." It sounded extremely strange, a hybrid of voices that didn't quite fit together, but that carried a sense of utmost fear.

Chandler backed up against the door. Flustered, he tried to speak. "Joey…" At his name, Joey jumped, and pushed the broom dangerously close to Chandler's neck. Now in a rush of panic, a slew of words came spluttering from his mouth, each phrase seeming to leap over the next in a desperate attempt to get out first. "Joe, it's me, it's me - it's Chandler!"

Chandler could see even in the low light that Joey's eyes were running wild. He frantically felt across the door, but couldn't find the handle. "Oh God, okay. Uh…" he ventured, "do you think you can put down the broom?"

At this, Joey stumbled backward, letting the would-be weapon fall from his hand and clatter to the floor. Chandler, relaxing a little, rubbed his throat and gulped down a breath. Looking up, their eyes met, and for a moment there was silence. When Joey did have the courage to speak, it was only to say a single word.

"…Chandler?"

It then occurred to Chandler that this was a lot easier than convincing Monica of the situation. But then again, this time he had pretty palpable evidence.

"Yes," he said, trying his best to sound calm. "Look, Joe, I-"

"Well what the hell is going on?!" Joey's voice was strained, distressed. "How can you be Chandler? I mean…you're…" He raised both hands to his head and gripped his tousled hair. At the feel of it, he let out a startled cry, lost his balance and fell clumsily against the foosball table.

Chandler stepped toward him and helped him up. "Maybe it's best if you sit down," he said, leading him to one of the barcaloungers open in the living room. Joey staggered forward and collapsed into the chair, and Chandler watched as he curled into a foetal position, his knees drawn up against his body, his fingers dug like claws into the leather armrests.

Chandler took a deep breath. "Are you okay?"

Joey looked incredulous. "Of course I'm not okay!" he shouted, more frightened than angry. "Why would I be okay?!"

"I know, I know." Chandler rubbed his forehead. Stupid question.

Joey stared up at him. "What…I mean…how did this happen? Was it you?"

A wry comment leapt to mind – a very clever quip about witchcraft classes – but for Joey's sake, he bit his tongue. He'd have to make do with a very plain "no", despite how much it pained him.

The strain in Joey's voice was clear. "Then what the hell happened?"

"I don't know," said Chandler. "I remember…I remember going to sleep last night, and everything was normal. When I woke up, I was like this."

"But this doesn't make any sense!" Joey wailed. "Why would anyone do this to me? What did I do wrong?"

Chandler wrinkled his brow. "It's nice to know where we stand on each other."

Ignoring his remark, Joey looked down at his hand. He flexed it, feeling the muscles clench and tighten. Seeing the blue veins that ran in unfamiliar pathways across his skin, he shuddered and closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them everything would be right again. It wasn't.

"I've gotta tell someone," he stammered, starting to get up from the chair. "My mom, my dad, there must be someone I can…maybe one of my sisters-"

"We can't," Chandler said abruptly, moving to stop him. "We mustn't tell anybody, Joe. Trust me."

"What?" Joey fell back into his seat. "Why not?"

"Well," Chandler began, "Monica thinks that-"

"Wait a minute," Joey interrupted, his voice suddenly more focused. "You've told Monica about this?" He stood shakily from the chair. It was a strange sensation for Chandler, who had always been taller, to suddenly be looking up at his roommate. Somehow, Joey had harnessed this fact to his advantage, and to Chandler's astonishment looked intimidating, something he had never managed to achieve. If they ever got out of this, he would have to ask how he did it.

"Well, I…uh…"

"You told Monica before me?"

"Technically?" Chandler took a cautious step backwards. "Technically…yes, I did. But!" he exclaimed, seeing the look on Joey's face, "I…I had to do it. To prove I wasn't crazy. And clearly, since she saw right through me, I can't pass for you. I guess, uh…I guess you're just too manly." He clasped his hands together and winced, awaiting the response.

"Well, that is true." Joey looked thoughtful for a second before shaking it off. "But that doesn't matter! Chandler, you're my best friend! And what does she have to do with this?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Chandler replied. "And I should have told you first, you're right. I just panicked. I…I didn't know what to do."

"Well you're lucky you have that face, pal." Joey thrust a finger at him. "Because otherwise, I'd find it pretty hard to forgive you right about now."

Chandler smiled weakly. "I guess I am."

Joey walked to the breakfast counter and pressed his palms against it. After a moment, he raised his hand to his brow and gently massaged his forehead, letting out a low, miserable groan.

"I'm really sorry, man."

Joey gave a single grunt in acknowledgment.

Chandler cringed at the sound. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Well I don't really have a choice," said Joey. "Being mad at each other isn't going to help anything, is it?"

"You're right." Chandler restrained his sigh of relief. "Thanks, buddy."

"Yeah." Joey stared at the counter, almost motionless.

There was an awkward silence before Chandler ventured to speak. "Look, we need to be rational about this." Why did that sound so ridiculous? "I think - and I know this will sound stupid - but I think we should go along with it."

At this, Joey looked up at him. "You mean…pretend to be each other? You? Me?"

"Well, yeah."

"You're kidding, right? I can't do that!"

"Why not?" asked Chandler. "You're an actor, aren't you?"

Joey scoffed. "Chandler, you've read my reviews."

"Look, just think of it as practice. Character acting."

"Tell you what." Joey turned away toward the living room, his voice dismissive. "I have a better idea."

Chandler folded his arms. "Alright, let's hear it."

Joey's response was blunt. "How about this," he said. "We don't leave the apartment. Okay?"

"Joe, we can't-"

"You said you'd hear it!"

"Fine," Chandler sighed. He leant against the foosball table and tapped his foot impatiently. "Go on."

Joey paused for a moment, his brow creased in thought. "Oh, wait," he said eventually. "That was the whole thing."

Chandler moved to put a hand on Joey's shoulder, but quickly retracted it. He stared for a while at his palm. A shiver ran down his spine, and he shuddered, shaking his head to dispel the feeling.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," said Chandler. "It's just…I don't know, touching myself. It's weird, that's all."

"I thought you'd be used to it," shrugged Joey.

Chandler narrowed his eyes. "Very funny." He brushed past him. "Look, man, we can't stay up here. Who knows how long this is going to last? We've just got to get used to it. We can't stay cooped up in the apartment - you know that."

"I've lived on pizzas and beer before, and I can do it again," Joey said defensively.

Chandler eyed him for a moment. "When did you ever stop doing that?"

"Hey, I like sandwiches, don't I? Brownies? Those frosted flakes with the little candy bits on top?"

"Oh yes." Chandler raised an eyebrow. This time, he just couldn't help himself. "I'm sure the culinary world is rejoicing at the sheer exquisiteness of your taste."

Joey was shocked to hear these words coming from his own mouth. And it was not just the words (after all, they were big words), but the delivery. Rarely was his voice so laden with sarcasm, and this was positively dripping with it. Chandler's sarcasm. He could almost hear him, almost see him as he spoke. It was the kind of feeling that made his hair stand on end.

"Please," said Chandler. "We have to do this."

"But why can't we just tell everybody?"

"Because we can't risk them knowing. I was lucky Monica believed me – who knows what the others will think? If we let this spread, they'll think we're mad." He paused. "I'm having enough trouble convincing myself that this is happening."

Joey sighed. "Alright, fine," he said, folding his arms like a stubborn child. "But I'm not happy about it. About any of it."

"It's not my idea of fun either, Joe."

"Yeah," Joey grunted. "So what do we do now?"

After what seemed like an age, a beam of sunlight finally began to creep through the windows of Apartment 19. The shock of the situation was still resonating in their minds, and both Joey and Chandler had sat for a while, hardly saying a word, just thinking. The few times they looked at each other, it was only for a brief moment before their glances turned away - a quick meeting of the eyes, and that was all.

The only interruption had been from Monica, who had knocked to see how they were, and had brought a plate of freshly-made cookies, too. After all, she was nervous – and when she was nervous, she baked. Every time her mother came to visit, there would always be a plentiful supply of gingerbread men; when a food critic was due to review her restaurant, it was blueberry muffins or pecan pie.

When she had left, Chandler closed the door behind her and slid the chain over to lock it. "Well, I guess we'd better get ready."

Joey got up from his barcalounger. "I guess so."

It was only a few minutes before Joey walked, agitated, out of Chandler's bedroom. Chandler stood at the breakfast counter, pouring some Cap'n Crunch into a bowl, if only for some sense of normality. He was just about to go for milk when he saw the expression on Joey's face. His face.

The shock of seeing himself was still enormous, and it was difficult to maintain eye contact. He tried his best to sound casual. "What's up?"

"Man, I hate sweater vests," Joey growled, holding up the item in question. Chandler opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk. Slowly, he unscrewed the lid.

"What's wrong with sweater vests?"

"They're boring, and they're itchy, and the material makes me uncomfortable. I don't see how you can wear these."

"They're not boring!" Chandler scoffed, pouring the milk into the bowl. His hand was shaking slightly, and a little of it missed and splashed onto the counter. "They go with anything!"

"Well they don't go with me."

Chandler grabbed a spoon and devoured a mouthful of cereal. "Just put it on," he said between chews.

"This whole thing had better not be because I complained about that pizza the other night," said Joey. "They clearly said it came with three toppings. Last time I checked, pepperoni and anchovies is two. And they wouldn't believe me because I didn't have evidence!"

"Joey, you ate the evidence."

A smile crept across Joey's face. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "That was some good pizza."

All of a sudden, the apartment door clattered inwards and caught against the chain. Chandler looked at it, swallowed, then looked back at Joey. "You know, we really don't promote good manners."

"Guys?" a woman's voice called from the hallway, "what are you doing in there?" They recognised it instantly.

"It's Phoebe," whispered Chandler.

Joey started to panic again. "So what do we do?"

"We let her in," Chandler wiped his mouth with a cloth, and motioned to Joey to stay calm – though truthfully, he was terrified himself. "Just act natural, okay?"

Joey steadied his breaths as Chandler walked to the door. "Okay."

Chandler unhooked the chain. "Hey Pheebs!" Phoebe looked at him for a second, a quizzical expression on her face. This made Chandler rather uncomfortable, and questions started to race through his mind – could she see right through him? Was there some sort of giveaway he hadn't noticed? He held his breath.

"Hey Joey," she said eventually, moving past him as he stepped aside. When she entered the room, she stopped abruptly in her tracks. "Woah."

"Are you okay?" asked Chandler.

"Something's wrong here," she said, her voice puzzled. "I don't know what it is, but I'm getting this really negative feeling. At first I thought it was the ghost of that one-legged man who's been following me around, but this is something else."

"Uh…" said Joey, "are you sure it's not him?"

"It definitely isn't."

"Well it's obvious what it is," said Chandler, glancing quickly around the kitchen. "It's, uh…uh…these mugs!" He shot a fleeting look at Joey, who luckily got the hint.

"Uh, yeah!" Joey moved to the counter and picked them up. "You see, we always have them over here. They're just in the wrong place, that's all." He slid them against the wall. "There." he said. "All better."

Phoebe looked suspicious. "Why was the door locked?"

"Oh, uh…" Chandler replied, motioning to the foosball table, "well, we were in the middle of a game, you see, and we needed our…our full concentration."

"Ugh," Phoebe sighed. "I'll never get what you see in that sport. Anyway, sorry for stopping by so early, but I just couldn't wait until later."

Joey looked confused. "Wait for what?"

"Well, you know how I had Frank and Alice's babies? Well, that kept me pretty occupied for the last nine months. So I figured I needed a new project, right? Something to keep me busy in place of…you know, storing people in my uterus. So…" she dug into her bag, "I want you to have these!" She took out a pair of crude-looking dolls, with loosely sewn-on buttons for eyes, and clumps of wool for hair.

"Thanks, Pheebs!" said Joey, taking one in his hands. He looked pensive for a while. "Uh…what are they?"

"That's you, silly!" said Phoebe. "Can't you see? I even made it a little sweater vest." Joey looked down at the doll. It was, indeed, vaguely recognisable as Chandler, although the giant button eyes made it look as if he were in a permanent state of shock. He turned it over in his hand.

"And you know what the great thing is about these?" she continued. "If you ever make me mad, I have an extra copy I can use for voodoo!"

Chandler and Joey glanced at each other.

"Not you, Joey," she said quietly, touching Chandler's shoulder and miming a kiss. Chandler, unsure of how to react, gave an awkward smile in return. "Anyway, I'm off to give out the rest of these," she went on, shrugging her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye Phoebe," they said in unison. Chandler closed the door as she left, and looked down at the black-haired doll in his hand.

"Want to swap?"

"Yeah."

A/N: That's it for this chapter! Please let me know what you thought!