Hello! I'm finally back with the next chapter. (Writing two stories at once is *so* fun...)

Enjoy the next installment! And, as always, feedback is appreciated! :)

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Clara didn't give Peyton a choice about going to the hospital. The minute Peyton proved she knew her own name and the date, Clara shoved her in her old station wagon and sped off to the nearest clinic. Peyton didn't argue. She was still trembling after finding out that she'd slept until well after noon, and after being told that Clara had been trying to wake her for five minutes before she had finally stirred.

"I'm sorry you had to be disturbed when you should be sleeping," Peyton said. "I could have driven myself."

"Shut up." Clara rolled her eyes. "I'm just glad you have me as your emergency contact. Can you imagine if you had your mom down first? She's over an hour away."

Peyton's eyes went wide as she let go of a shaky breath.

"You're right," she said. "Can you imagine if my mom found out? Oh my gosh, she would freak."

Clara winced.

"No, please- no. Clara, please tell me you didn't call her. Oh no! When did you even have time?"
"I was freaking out, ok," Clara snapped. "I thought maybe she'd know if there was medical stuff in your family! You slipped into a coma or something, Peyton! What did you expect me to do? She deserves to know."
Peyton groaned and buried her head in her hands.

"She's coming, isn't she."

"I think she was in the car before I hung up. Your dad too."
"Oh, lord."

The hospital was in a lull when they arrived, but Clara went screeching into a parking spot like they had to race three gurneys for the last few rooms. Peyton was feeling better, though still thoroughly worried, and was able to keep a calm head while Clara crashed into the front check-in desk of the ER. The woman behind the counter appeared surprised.

"Clara! I thought you had the night shift."

"I do, but my friend needs to see someone right now. Probably a neurologist too, to be safe. Who's in?"

The nurse began handing over a clipboard with the standard check-in paperwork which Peyton accepted while Clara continued to stand in on her behalf.

"Well, Dr. Rosenquist is in, as well as Dr. Adams. I'm not sure who's upstairs."

Clara waved her hand in dismissal.

"Dr. Rosenquist should be good. Do you have that filled out yet?"
Peyton scowled.

"Give me one second. I don't exactly know how to explain what's going on."

She chewed her lip as she ticked off a few boxes and scribbled a note in the designated area on the back of the page, then passed the clipboard back to the nurse.

"You'll be called back when a doctor is available. Shouldn't be too long; it's not busy today. Not yet at least."
She thanked the woman and followed Clara over to the waiting area to park herself in one of the uncomfortable plastic seats in an exercise of patience.

Peyton slumped in the chair as she waited and sighed. Despite sleeping until two, she felt exhausted already. But more in the way that stress exhausts you than actual tiredness. There was a pulling, heaviness to the feeling and it wasn't helped with the knowledge that her parents would eventually be bursting through the hospital doors.

The quiet murmurings of the hospital filled the room for a few minutes before Clara spoke again.

"What's going on, Peyton? This is the second time you've slept in way later than normal, and the other day you woke up with a panic attack? Is work going that badly?"

"No." Peyton turned to find Clara's worried gaze locked on her. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and wondered about how much she should really say. How much truth could she tell before people thought she was crazy?

"I don't know what's going on," she said. "I've been having long… dreams. I think."

"Dreams?"

"Ugh. I don't know."

Peyton looked back to Clara and tried to smile.

"Go home, Clar. Get some sleep. My parents will be here soon enough and they can drive me back home. Just leave the key under the mat."

Clara frowned, but she looked more tired than Peyton felt now that she was actually looking at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You'll tell me everything the doctor says?"

"Every word. I need your medical jargon knowledge anyway."
Clara snorted in forced amusement.

"Alright."
They exchanged a quick hug before Clara left, and shortly after that the nurse called Peyton back to see the doctor.

Peyton, like most people, wasn't fond of visiting the doctor. She hadn't ever had a tragic experience, and she didn't necessarily hate it, but it was generally a hassle and could get quite awkward. She had a feeling now would be one of those visits to get awkward.

There was a knock on the door and it was pushed open with a squeak before she could even say 'come in'. A balding, older gentleman smiled at her as he closed the door behind him and held out a hand.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Rosenquist. I'd ask how you're feeling but, well, you're in the ER."

Peyton chuckled and nodded.

"True. Although it's not really when I'm awake that's the problem."

His face shifted into a more professional gaze after she said that, and he glanced down at his notes.

"Right. Let's get straight to it. It seems like you've been having trouble waking up lately?"
He let the question hang for her to answer, and Peyton shifted uncomfortably on the paper-lined bench. She'd been meaning to talk to a doctor. Really, she had. She needed this. It was just, her story felt so silly! To tell another person felt like sealing her fate at a mental institution. Or at least lifelong therapy. Maybe they'd even think she was just making it up. Dr. Rosenquist waited patiently, his gray mustache ticking as he sniffed, and she sighed.

"Yes," she admitted. "At least three times now, I think, I've not been able to wake up like I usually do. I'm usually a morning person, actually, so it's weird."

He jotted down a note, humming as he followed along.

"Any other symptoms you've noticed with that?"
Peyton bit her lip. Her fingernails curled into her palm. She winced.

"Dreams."

"Dreams?"
"I mean. I've been dreaming a lot. When it's happened, I've been waking up in the middle of them."

It didn't quite feel like dreaming, never really had if she thought about it, but it was the easiest way to explain it. And she really didn't know what it was anyway. It could very well be dream related things she'd never heard of. Even if that idea tasted sour when she thought it.

"That sounds like it could be a possible REM disorder. Usually it takes more effort to wake someone from the deep stages of sleep, but not quite the effort you noted it took Clara. But we can't jump to conclusions."

He did a brief examination of her then that didn't seem like it would help, and gave her a referral to a sleep specialist. If they couldn't help he said the next step would be going to a neurologist. He hoped they'd be able to find the problem before then.

Peyton hoped so too.

She was just turning from making an appointment for the sleep specialist when she heard it. The sliding doors hissed open and a frantic voice darted through.

"Peyton? Peyton!"

Peyton sucked in a deep breath, let it out, and turned around.

A woman a good five inches shorter than herself was barreling towards her with a wide face set with worry. Peyton widened her stance and opened her arms as her mother fell into her. She squeezed Peyton as if she'd almost died instead of just had trouble waking up and then let her go to cup her face.

"Are you ok? What happened? Clara called and said you were in a coma!"

"I wasn't in a coma, mom."

"What did the doctor say," her father asked. He had always been the more grounded, rational one of her parents. Peyton could still see the way his eyes were pinched in concern, but he was keeping a level head and waiting for the facts. She squeezed her mom's hands fondly and sighed.

"They don't know exactly what is going on yet. I'm being referred out to a sleep specialist for some tests. They'll monitor my sleep for a night and go from there."

"Tonight, right?" Her mother pressed. "They're going to figure this out as quick as they can, aren't they? Oh, Peyton, this isn't like you. You've always been my morning sunshine girl."

Peyton held her mother's hand and began leading her parents toward the exit.

"Yes, actually. They had a cancellation and the doctor wants results sooner rather than later. Clara might've had something to do with that though. Anyway, come on. We might as well make the most of your visit! Have you guys eaten yet?"

She made sure to take them to a local, in-the-wall place that served burgers she knew her mom would like. They ate and talked, and eventually the subject left the topic of her recent medical issues. Her father paid for the meal, despite her protests, and they decided to walk the shopping district for the rest of the afternoon. She and her mother were even polite enough to manage waiting patiently while her father was caught up in a bird feeder store.

Peyton found herself actually relaxing as the afternoon wore on. The weather was warm, she had yet another day off -which wasn't necessarily so good- , and she was enjoying her parents company now that her mother had calmed down.

It had been a month or so since their last visit, and despite regular texting and phone calls, it was nice to see them in person. She was a bit disappointed that they hadn't brought Jacen or Orion, but she would just go by to see them later.

"How are the twins, anyway," she asked as they passed more outlets. "Are they out of school yet for the summer?"
"Not yet," her mother said. "They have a few more weeks. And they're doing fine. They should be back from school by now. We left them a note; they should be ok."

"They'll be fine, Merril," her father said. "They're old enough to take care of themselves."

Peyton grinned, knowing her father was right but finding amusement in imagining the twins trying to get into trouble in the few hours they had available. Orion, maybe. But Jacen would never be able to pull it off.

When it grew closer to dinner time, her parents dropped her back off at her rental and bid her farewell. The twins would be complaining of hunger soon and they still had a drive back home in what was sure to be rush hour traffic. Her mother demanded that Peyton keep her updated on every test or utterance from a doctor, and was expecting a phone call promptly in the morning. Peyton promised to do her best.

Clara had left a key under the mat as suggested, and Peyton tiptoed inside the house as she tried to make a quick meal as quietly as possible. She already felt bad about costing Clara some much needed sleep as it was. The last thing she wanted to do was wake her with only a few free hours left before her shift.

The burger from her late lunch was still heavy in her stomach, so she threw together a simple sandwich and nibbled on some fruit. Closer to eight o'clock she started getting ready for bed, doing all her bathroom and bed routines while still at home, and packed a bag for the morning like the doctor suggested. The sky was finally growing dim as she quietly locked the front door behind her and backed out of the driveway to head back to the clinic.

It was a stupid study, really, she knew this. It wasn't pass or fail or bringing judgement down on her, but she still felt butterflies as the practitioner hooked her up to the equipment next to the bed. She still felt like she was about to do something taboo.

"Sometimes there's a gap between days," she called out as the nurse began to leave the room. "It doesn't happen every night."

The nurse paused at the door to smile at her politely.

"We'll have to adjust for that if it happens," he said. "We're just trying to get a baseline reading for you in order to spot the problem. Have a good rest, Ms. Woods."

She nodded and tried to relax.

This was to help her. Not condemn her. They were trying to make her better. She was

doing the right thing. And she wanted it to stop. She didn't like being torn between realities. She didn't like taking over a body that wasn't truly hers.

Peyton closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

A nurse woke her up at six sharp. Peyton pushed herself up to her elbows and tried to blink the sleep away. A different nurse was telling her they were going to remove the equipment now, and it took her a second to figure out what that meant.

"Oh, right."
The drowsiness evaporated from her like it usually did and she smiled before the expression quickly dropped again.

"It didn't happen."

She swiveled to sit on the edge of the bed to make removing the wires and straps easier for the nurse.

"Your doctor will be able to discuss the results with you," the nurse said.

She left the clinic feeling vaguely disappointed. Part of her had been hoping she'd be getting an instant explanation for this. That maybe her experiences could be explained away as an overactive cortex issue or some sort of prolonged REM cycle that could be helped by exercise and medication.

At least, she conceded, she would be to work on time.

The idea of just quitting and walking back out of the office flickered through her mind when she saw all the files already hazardly stacked in a tall pile on her desk. She eyed it distastefully as she walked passed it to her boss's office for what was sure to be a rebuke for being ill.

Her boss was the sort of man who believed that he set the standard for the workforce and any deviation was wholly unacceptable. He'd never taken a sick day, why should anyone else? He prioritized work over meager family things, so why did anyone else think they had the right to not do so? Peyton was waiting for the day she could transfer companies.

Luckily for her, she had a doctor's note, and he couldn't very well legally fire her for medical emergencies. He still sneered as he read over the piece of paper.

"So you don't get enough sleep and decided to go MIA for two days during the busiest merger we've gone through yet? Hmph."

"I'm not sure what's going on, but I am having it looked into," she slowly explained. "You know I'm not one to purposefully skip out on work."

"Right." But he didn't sound especially convinced. Peyton grit her teeth. "Look," he continued, "I get you're having issues, but it can't interfere with your work. Things have already started to back up and you're going to have to stay late to try and bring up the slack. I can't have you missing any more days. Can you handle that?"
"Yes," she all but snapped. "Is there anything else, or can I start on that pile of paperwork on my desk now?"
He scowled at her, not entirely missing her bite, and waved her away.

Peyton sank into her office chair and glared at the files. Why hadn't she become an art teacher or something instead? Why did she have to be weird and enjoy math and business in school?

No, she shook her head; she knew what she'd do. First, she was going to get an extra hot cup of coffee. And then she was going to put such a dent in those files that her boss was going to have to eat his words. If he were capable of such a thing.

By lunch she had brought the pile down by a good half a foot and was in a marginally better mood. The several cups of coffee she'd consumed had helped with that as well. A few of her coworkers had come by to try and see if she was doing alright and perhaps get some better water cooler gossip, and Peyton downplayed the severity of her symptoms and what had happened to her.

Stress had caught up with her, she told them. She'd suffered a twenty-four hour bug on top of that. They believed her and went away without anything truly interesting to spread around.

By the end of the day there was only about two inches worth of stacked paper left, and she felt pretty proud of herself. Even if her boss said nothing, she'd seen the flash of surprise across his face when he left the office before her. There was a bit of triumph in that at least.

When she finally got home the house was quiet and dark, as usual. She wrote a note down for Clara about her sleep study, how they'd probably found nothing wrong but was still going in to talk about the results on Friday, and cooked herself dinner. She'd already told her mother all this during her lunch break, and she was expecting Clara to be just as frustrated as her mother had been. But it wasn't like she could control what was happening. If she could do that, she'd just stop the dreams, or whatever was happening, herself.

She put off those thoughts as she ate and cleaned up around the house lightly. It was already late when she'd left the office, but she was able to squeeze in some reading and a few texts promising to visit home this weekend to see the twins before going to bed.

[]

"-unreasonable. Don't you agree, Samuel?"

Peyton dropped the fork that was in her hand and wheezed. A long table stretched out on either side of her and there were delicate dishes topped with decorated foods sitting stretched out and ready for self-serve. The plate in front of her was half eaten, and her fork had fallen on top of what looked to be braised asparagus.

"Are you kidding me," she snapped. Now? Of course it happened now! One night! That was all she got! One night when she needed this to happen the most and it was conveniently skipped! The woman who had just been speaking glanced over at her with a disapproving stare. "Really, Peyton," she said. "Please control your temper. Oxford is a wonderful school, you'll be able to do plenty of networking there. And it's not for a few years anyhow, you'll come around by then."

She felt different this time. Less awkward and gangly and looked down to guess that she was probably another few years older this time.

I didn't take any medicine this time, she thought to herself. I should be ok. I'll probably just wake up a few minutes late tops, just calm down.

The thought did soothe her. The day she had the panic attack, she'd only been about ten minutes late with waking up. She'd be fine. This time she wouldn't have a panic attack.

"Can I be excused," she asked. She looked up to see the woman who was not her mother pinching her lips together as the man who was not her father sighed and nodded his head. Peyton pushed away from the table, suddenly realizing that she was wearing a semi-formal dress and made her way to the doors that she guessed led out of the dining room.

"She has to realize that she has to consider her fut-"

"Just let her go for tonight, Merrill. Like you said; she'll come around."

Peyton's hand froze momentarily on the door handle before she continued through and fled from the area. Samuel and Merrill? Those people looked nothing like her parents, and yet they had the same names?

What was going on? Why did she keep ending up here?

The house could have been on the cover of The Rich and Powerful. Everything was pristine and magazine worthy. All pieces looked authentic to a victorian time period while incorporating modern technologies with a grace that only an interior designer and fat paycheck could achieve. Peyton jogged up a rich, wooden staircase and huddled at the top, unsure of where to go or where she was. An idea struck her, and she felt around the dress hoping that this other Peyton was like any other teen she'd ever met. She sagged in relief when she found a newer cell phone tucked away in a hidden pocket on the dress. The contact list was long, with many quirky nicknames entered into it, but she navigated straight to the 'L's in a desperate hope that she'd somehow find Lex's name. Maybe this other Peyton didn't like him, but he was still a rich kid too. They all had to know each other, right? There was some kind of 'politeness' or 'power game' rule to this, wasn't there? They seemed like those types of families. Like a modern day Game of Thrones match was happening between companies and long lived blood lines.

Peyton almost sang when she found a "L. Luthor" as the last name listed under 'L'. She hit the button and prayed he'd actually answer.

"Luthor." The response was clipped, business oriented and she chewed her lip. It was not the same voice of the boy she'd spoken to the last time.

"Lex?"
There was a sigh.

"Yes?"
"Oh! Good! Oh my gosh, your voice finally dropped. No, not the point. What year is it?"

"Year? What are you talking about? Are you drunk again?"
Peyton rolled her eyes.

"No. Listen, it's, it's me." She whispered. "The other Peyton. Do you remember? You still believe me, don't you? I don't know how long it's been but-"

"Where are you?"

His voice cut through her rambling and was suddenly more urgent and focused.
"I don't know. I think I was just eating with people who are supposed to be my parents? I mean, I think I'm supposed to live here? It's an old, rich house at least. I can tell that much."

"Stay there; that's within driving distance."

"Wait; what? Are you trying to come here? You don't need to do that. I just need to know the date and maybe three facts about this girl so I can make it through the day."

She could hear rustling and moving on the other end of the phone, and then the beep of a car being unlocked.

"You really don't need to."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he insisted. "We can talk then. You can tell your parents we're working on a project over break or something."

He hung up before she could protest. At least she knew he wasn't on the phone and driving like a lot of people tended to do now days. Or, rather, in the future?

She groaned and walked back down the stairs.

The people she supposed were her parents were still finishing their meal. Clearing her throat, she knocked on the doorframe and poked her head back into the room.

"Uh, hey. I told you about my classmate coming over, right?"
That got both of their attentions, and they pierced her with the pinning stares of a parent who thinks you're up to something.

"No," the mother said. "Just how much notice were you planning on giving us?"
Peyton winced.

"He's actually on his way over now?"
"He," the father enunciated. "Who's he?"
She shifted, almost feeling the age she was supposed to be, but only because she wasn't fond of lying in any aspect.

"His name is Lex Luthor, and he-"
"Alexander Luthor!" Merrill stood from her seat with a shining in her eyes that had been absent before. "Are you friends with him now," she asked. "Samuel, did you hear that? The Luthor boy."
"What project," Samuel asked.

"Extra credit." It was the first thing that popped into Peyton's head. "For science. We have to complete it before class is back in session."

When Merrill began calling in the help to have them prepare for their "guest's arrival" Peyton ducked out of the room before she could be wrangled into anything. She decided to risk getting lost and searched the upstairs for the bedroom that was supposed to be hers.

There were too many doors in the house! Every time she opened one it was either a drawing room or a billiards room or a closet. It took her an entire ten minutes to find a room that appeared to be inhabited by a teenager. There were quite a few posters of boy bands on the walls and the duvet was a pale blue and lined with frills. Peyton guessed since she didn't see any other young girls at the table, it was a safe bet that this room was supposed to be hers.

She closed the door and rummaged around the nearby dresser for a change of clothes, just because she felt silly in the formal dress. She managed to find a pair of slim jeans and a simple wrap top and slipped those on before trotting back down the stairs. There were people moving things about and scurrying around as if the governor was coming to tea instead of some teen coming over for a school project. At least, as far as they knew. Peyton had no clue as to why he was really making the effort to see her. Maybe he just needed proof she wasn't lying?

She padded across the cool wood floors barefooted as she watched the people work. The smirk fighting to creep up on her face was hard to suppress as she wondered if all rich folk were like this. Was one's social life really so fragile for them? Were business merger's cancelled if your neighbor didn't provide the right kind of tea at brunch?

Another twenty minutes was spent keeping out of people's way before she heard it announced that "Mr. Luthor is here". Peyton was almost embarrassed by all the hullabaloo caused by this visit. She'd give Lex a scolding the minute she got a chance. It had been her goal to keep a low profile if she showed back up here and he wasn't helping with that.

One of the maids directed her towards a set of doors letting her know that Lex had had already been shown in and conversing with her "parents". Peyton thanked the woman and pushed through the designated doors without knocking. She didn't get a chance to hear what they'd been discussing, but she saw as Merrill's eyes locked onto her and flashed in horrified dismay.

"Peyton! What are you doing?"
She followed the woman's gaze down to her clothing choices and shrugged as she looked back up.

"This was more comfortable."

Lex was definitely older, probably closer to sixteen or seventeen. He was dressed mostly casual as well with only slacks and a black sweater, but he was wearing shoes were she wasn't. Peyton quirked an eyebrow at him and he smiled.

"Well," he said, "it was an honor to meet you both. Peyton and I should probably start working on that extra credit project now though."

"You can use the spare study," Samuel said. "Downstairs."
Peyton shrugged again while truly trying not to laugh. It felt like he was playing the protective father card when that was literally the least of his worries. His real daughter was lost who-knows-where, but he was concerned about her and a sixteen year old. She tried not to grimace.

No thank you.

"That's fine," she said instead. "Thanks!"
That seemed to surprise both adults. They were probably expecting more of a protest from her and Peyton made a mental note to do something overdramatic before she left to make up for it.

She gestured for Lex to follow her and once the doors blocked the view to her parents she turned to him.

"I have no idea where the study is."

"My guess is it's the one door that's open."

He gestured with a nod to a room down the hall with light spilling out of the open doorway. Peyton hummed.

"Fair enough."

Inside the study there was an entire table of snacks and drinks all lined up and available and Peyton found it a bit ridiculous. Lex shut the door behind himself and Peyton dropped into a plush armchair with a sigh.

"Did you have to come over for proof," she asked. "Because you could've just asked a question over the phone for that. You didn't have to make a, what, half an hour drive? I'm assuming, of course, that you're allowed to drive."

"You haven't come back in almost three years," he said. "I was starting to think maybe I'd imagined that conversation with you."

"Really? Three years? It's only been a day for me. I only got one good night's rest, you

know. One! And of course it's the one night I'm getting tests done. Go figure."

Lex frowned while shoving his hands in his pockets. Peyton noticed he wasn't wearing ballcaps anymore. Or at least not outside of school. The look suited him, actually.

"Tests," he prodded.

"Yeah. I sort of had issues with waking up last time I came here and I honestly have no idea what all, all this is in the first place. I thought maybe a doctor could help. But of course I sleep fine the one time I need this to happen."

"Do you really think you're dreaming," he asked. Peyton picked at her nails.

"I used to."

"But not anymore?"

"Not really."

He looked like he approved of that answer, or it at least it brought him some relief. When he sat down in a chair opposite of her, she was struck by how much he appeared to have matured in the day she hadn't seen him. Seeing her own siblings grow up was disorienting enough sometimes, but this literal "overnight" stuff was even more unsettling. There was a sharpness growing in his gaze that hadn't quite been there before.

"How have you been, then," she asked. "I'm assuming everyone is going to the same school? Has she, um, the other Peyton, is she any nicer?"

His eyes tightened for a moment and Peyton twisted her lips.

"Do you know," she said in a lighthearted tone, "that I'm pretty sure this girl doesn't want to go to Oxford? Oxford! I'd give my left leg to go, and this girl snubs her nose at it."

Lex's lips curled a bit and Peyton felt better.

"I stand by what I said last time," he said. "I like you better."

"Oh, come on. You don't even know me."

"If you stayed longer than a day I might."

She felt suddenly uncomfortable with his tone and where the conversation might be going. There was no real reason for him to be so interested in getting to know her. Surely by now he'd met other people who were kind and good enough friends? She remembered being a teen, and she was aware of all the confusion and overwhelming emotions that came along with that period of life. The last thing she wanted was to create any new confusions in this kid.

"I have a life you know. A job and everything, and while staying to figure out what this exactly is sounds great, I can't keep missing work. This time I didn't take any medication, so hopefully I'll only be a bit late in the morning at most."

He got up at that and huffed quietly at her response. She cocked her eyebrows in bemusement.

"It's not that I don't like you, kid," she said. This time she used the word 'kid' purposefully. "But I don't belong here. If this is some sort of alternate universe or whatever, it's not mine to live in."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets again and fidgeted around before sighing.

"I'm going to get a coffee. Want one?"

Peyton blinked at the change of subject and remembered the table full of food beside her.

"Oh," she said. "Sure."

She moved to get up but Lex waved her back and pulled out two mugs himself. He moved in front of them to pour the coffee, and Peyton was left to stare at the back of his head while she waited.

Her gaze drifted off to the side at a plate of questionable looking ourves d'oeuvres as he reached for smaller pitchers.

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yes please."

Peyton accepted the mug gratefully when he passed her one, and took a sip. It was good she'd said yes to cream and sugar, because whatever bean they used was strong and a bit bitter for her liking.

After a few swallows of the drink and letting the caffeine start it's work, Peyton breathed deeply and spoke.

"Well, they're going to expect us to be working on something. Have any ideas?"

Lex watched as she took another drink of her coffee and fought back a tugging at his lips.

"If you're going to keep showing up here," he said, "there are probably some things you should know. I can help with that."