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A/n, this story is set directly after episode 8x4. Please enjoy, and thank you in advance for your support.

"No, wait!"

The anguished cry echoed through the darkness of the night, and then a gunshot roared, and he dropped to his knees sobbing.

"No," he whimpered and squeezed his eyes tight as blood began to pool under the two women in front of him.

The team stood in stunned silence around him, and then a loud voice shouted, "Cut. Excellent work, everyone. That's a wrap for tonight."

Matthew opened his eyes, wiped away the tears on his cheeks, and climbed to his feet. He walked forward to assist Michelle and Beth to their feet.

"You guys okay."

"Yep," they said together and laughed. "That was fun," Michelle said.

"I didn't know you had homicidal tendencies," Beth said, and the ladies grinned at each other. "Still, I'm glad this isn't my sweater," Beth continued as she looked at the fake blood with disgust. "I hate the smell of this stuff."

The director interrupted them with reminders of the shooting schedule for the next day, which would be Michelle and Beth's last day.

"Gonna miss you," Shemar said and high-fived Michelle. "You make one hell of a scary stalker."

"You nearly had me in tears," AJ said to Matthew. "Nice work."

"Thanks," Michelle and Matthew said as they mockingly bowed before their cast mates.

"Great unison," Jeanne put in.

The others rolled their eyes. "Anyone wants to get a drink and play some pool before we pack it in for the day?" Joe asked.

"Sounds good," Shemar said. "Let's head over to Smitty's. The night's still young."

"Sorry, but husband and kid are waiting for me at home," AJ said, turning toward her trailer.

"What about you two," Joe asked Michelle and Beth. "Tomorrow's your last day."

"Can't," Michelle said. "See you tomorrow. I have plans."

"Same," Beth said. "See you later."

"You coming," Shemar asked Matthew and Tom.

"Sure," Tom said. "Let's go."

"I'm gonna say no this time,' Matthew said. "Have fun."

Matthew said goodnight to everyone and hurried away to his trailer. The California autumn meant cool temperatures at night, so he wanted his jacket, and he needed to get out of his wardrobe and makeup. He also needed his script for the next day.

He was about to strip off his shirt when he suddenly felt extremely dizzy. He stumbled forward as a wave of nausea slammed into his gut. He lurched backward, fell on the edge of a chair, and then to the carpeted floor. "What the hell?"

Dizziness increased, and his ears began to ring so loudly he almost screamed in pain. More dizziness made him unable to sit, and he slid down his back. He tried to reach into his pocket for his cell phone, but the dizziness increased. All went black, and he knew nothing more.

When Matthew opened his eyes, he found himself in - the set for Spencer Reid's apartment. He lay on his back and tried to sit up but had to close his eyes again because he felt like he'd just ridden a rollercoaster with giant loops. His head hurt, and he felt like he floated instead of lying on solid ground.

After a few minutes, he tried to open his eyes, and – everything around him was blurry but coming back into focus. Yes, he was in the set that looked like Spencer Reid's apartment. But – no, they were finished with interior shots of his place, and – he blinked again as he looked up. A ceiling was there, about twelve feet above!

He shut his eyes again and then opened them a third time. Was there an actual ceiling instead of an opening with studio lighting? He turned to his side to look where he knew there would be cameras but instead, he saw a wall, a large bookcase, and the door to his – no, Reid's apartment. What the hell was going on?

"I must've hit my head when I fell, but how did I get here?"

Matthew stood up and shouted. "Hey, Jesse. Where is everyone?"

The director didn't answer him. He called out for the cast and even the writer of the episode they'd been filming, Breen, but no one answered.

Matthew scanned the apartment and noticed a yellow rotary phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He hurried to it and was about to pick up the receiver when he said. "It's a prop, dummy. You did hit your head."

But the pain in his head was receding, and he knew something was very wrong. He looked up again and saw the ceiling over his head. He reached out and picked up the phone. He slammed down the receiver when he heard the dial tone and backed away from the phone. A prop phone wasn't supposed to be connected to a landline. That's why it was called a prop.

He shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Open the door, and you'll find yourself back on set. Then find Mike and tell him to contact your manager. Then you can explain why you need a vacation."

"You're taking your role as the son of a paranoid schizophrenic too seriously. Time to drop your character because the cameras aren't rolling." Matthew shut his mouth and decided he needed to stop talking to himself or end up in therapy.

"Okay," he said under his breath. "This is ridiculous."

He took three steps toward the door when he heard a key rattle in the lock. He froze and realized he had no time to hide as the door swung open.

A man stepped inside, and Matthew could only stand there and stare. The man immediately dropped his bags and pulled out his revolver. "FBI. Who are you?"

"I'm – ah – well, I guess I'm you."

Spencer Reid stared at him in absolute shock. "What the – "

Matthew held up his hands. The gun his doppelganger held did not look like a prop. He took a step backward and remembered the phone wasn't a prop, either.

"Stay where you are and keep your hands where I can see them." Spencer snapped. "Who are you?"

"I told you. I'm you."

"Are you nuts?"

"No, I mean I play you on a television show. My name is Matthew Gray Gubler. You're SSA, Dr. Spencer Reid. How the hell is this possible?"

"You're crazy," Spencer said. "What television show? How do you look identical to me? I don't have a twin brother. Wait!"

Something flickered in Spencer's eyes, and it was like looking in the mirror; Matthew thought when he had an answer to a complex problem pop into his head. "You're here because of him."

"What?" Matthew shook his head. "Who is him?"

"Him, the one who's stalking –"

Matthew stared and said. "What?"

"You go back to your boss and tell him –"

"Wait," Matthew held up a hand he'd let fall to his side. "Who are you talking about? I was in my trailer after finishing filming for the day. I got dizzy and sick, fell, and now I'm in a room that looks like my character's apartment set. The phone works, but there is a ceiling over my head and a wall over there. What the hell is going on?"

Spencer didn't lower his gun. "I don't know what you're talking about – what did you say is your name."

"It's Matthew, and I play an FBI agent on "Criminal Minds." My character is a genius, speed reader, with an eidetic memory, a strange sense of fashion, and is about to –"

Matthew stopped because he had no idea why he was telling a man that looked exactly like him something the guy should have known.

"About to what," said Spencer Reid.

"I don't know what the joke is here, but –"

"Stop," Spencer said when Matthew took another step forward. "I can assure you this gun is real, not a prop."

Matthew stopped and let out a sigh. "Look, what can I do to make you believe I have no idea how I got here? I can't believe you're real, yet you are standing there as solid and alive as me. How am I supposed to understand how this is possible? "

"Of course I'm real. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I live in the real world and play a character on TV. I'm an actor. You're the fictional character I play. I don't understand how I could've walked through the "Looking Glass."

"I can tell you that this isn't Wonderland, and you're not Alice," said Spencer, and he finally lowered his gun

"Don't take this the wrong way or think I'm not grateful, but why are you lowering your weapon?"

Spencer shrugged. "I'm fairly certain that you're not him."

"Who is this "him," you keep talking about?"

"A stalker that's after my – um, friend."

Matthew watched in amusement as Spencer blushed beet red. The sight reminded Matthew of his days in middle school, and – he shook off inappropriate memories. Then a light went on in his head. "Oh, you're talking about Maeve's stalker."

Spencer whipped out his gun with a speed and agility that Matthew would've envied had it not startled him into nearly falling over an ornate wingback chair next to a table with a chess set on it. "Whoa, Dr. Reid. What did I say?"

"How do you know Maeve?"

The anger and the fear in Spencer's eyes made Matthew back up another step in the wrong direction. His hip hit the table and made the chess set sway and clink together. "Dr. Reid. I don't know her. I only know Beth, the woman that plays her on the show. I'm sorry if I frightened you."

Spencer put away his gun again. "I believe you. Well, you're me, and I'd hardly do anything to hurt Maeve."

"See, that's the problem," Matthew said. "Please don't pull your gun again, Dr. Reid."

"Call me Spencer."

"Spencer. May I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Sit down if you like."

Matthew nodded and sat at one end of the sofa, and Spencer sat at the other. Matthew still couldn't get over his "twin," it was disturbing and quite fantastic at the same time. He wondered what Spencer might be thinking.

"I don't quite know how to say this to you. First, I'd like to ask if you returned from a case." Matthew glanced at Spencer's go bag and messenger bag, both familiar props.

"Yes, New Mexico, it was - "

Matthew felt his heart begin to race with wonder. "The amputee case. Then you talked to Beth- I mean, Maeve this morning?"

Spencer's eyes narrowed, and his hand went to the holster, then he sighed. "How did you know? Are you following me? Why?"

"No. I know because I filmed that case weeks ago and I remember the phone call. Maeve told you that she loves you, right."

"How –"

"You tried asking her to let you help her, and she told you that she couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

"Matthew, I –"

"Look, I don't know how I got here or why the show in my universe mirrors your life so closely, but I know that if you don't do something, Maeve will die in three and a half months."

"Die. No! How do you – don't you dare –"

"Spencer, I'm not here to hurt Maeve. I don't know why I'm here or even how I got here, but if I can spare you – let me."

"You're saying that the writers of your show kill her. Why?"

"Well, because Beth isn't available to be a regular, but mostly because – oh god, this is going to sound so heartless. You're the whipping boy of the show, Spencer. Also, I love playing angst. It's so much more fun than a happy character."

"What?"

The rage that sparked him Spencer's eyes made Matthew flinch back. "Hey, it's all make-believe, or it was. How were we supposed to know you existed as real people?"

"Well, if you're here, that must mean an alternate reality somewhere – no, that can't be right. Maybe it was a micro blackhole or a portal that took you – no." He looked up at Matthew, who felt more relaxed now that the rage had dampened in Spencer's eyes.

"What do I do? I can't let her die. I love her."

"Then we have to save her."

"How do you know telling me that Maeve dies will change anything? Don't you need to tell the people that produce your show to rewrite the episode?"

Matthew blew out a breath. "I don't know, but I know that if we don't do something, she will die."

Spencer looked down at his hands. "I should've done something the minute I found out. Why didn't I?"

Matthew shook his head. "Don't look at me. I asked the producers and writers the same question, and they never gave me a straight answer. Sometimes working as an actor can be frustrating. I think they thought you were too timid to go against what Maeve wanted and – well, I'm sorry to say that I played it that way. I never would – I'm sorry, Spencer."

Spencer was staring at his chess set, and a tear meandered down his cheek. "You're right. I'm sitting here thinking about her telling me she loves me when I should be on the phone with Hotch. I can't believe I thought that she'd hate me for going against her wishes."

"Okay, but if we're going to do this, we must be careful."

"Why?"

"Because there are things that you two don't know about this particular stalker, and when I tell you, you're not going to like it."

"Why?"

"Also, when I get back to my – universe, I'll have to come up with some way to get the writers to change direction in this story, or all that we do might be in vain." Matthew said and ignored Spencer's question.

Spencer nodded. "You said we have three and a half months."

"I don't know how much time we have or how much I can help you. I could pop out of existence in a minute or stay here permanently. I want to think I'll go back at some point."

"Right, well, I wish I could help you with that," Spencer said. "After all, you're saving the life of the woman I love."

"We haven't done it yet. Let's get to work and figure out how to save Maeve."