InsaneJournal

Margo’s eyes snapped open with a pain that did not make sense. Namely it had to do with the thong she’d worn to bed that now felt about ten sizes too small. Her hands attempted a basic popper to quickly turn on the lights. Not only did her fingers feel clumsy and fumble it, but she felt nothing, magically speaking.

Pulling the sheets of her bed, Margo took two seconds to figure it out, and quickly ripped off her thong before it became a tourniquet for Captain Christopher Pike’s manhood. She recognized her new body instantly, having spent some time with it. The only pleasant surprise in all of this was how easily she’d torn off her own clothing. It was kind of fun. If she hadn’t been limping when she got onto her feet, she would have been interested in exploring that more at a later date.

One problem at a time.

“Goddamn motherfucker, someone is getting murdered. Slow.”

The problem with being about a foot taller and well built was that, once Margo limped into her walk-in closet, she realized nothing was going to work. Not without major magical alterations. Just for fun, Margo tried holding her hands up again to form the most basic spell she could think of. Pike’s fingers did a little better this time, but still nothing happened.

Her magic was gone. Again. She would have been angrier, but waking up in an ill fitting thong had more than prepared her for how the rest of this day was going to go. She snatched her largest robe from a hanger. It barely fit, particularly in the shoulder’s where Pike’s body stretched it out, and she barely got it tied around his waist. It hid very little.

Realizing this was not going to work, Margo struggled to remove the robe and dropped it on the floor of her otherwise immaculate room.

“I swear to anything you have ever loved, Pike, if you’ve already blown this…”

Margo pulled the sheet from her bed and wrapped it around her body like a toga. It was going to have to do for now. Picking up her phone, she dialed Pike. She listened to it ring.

When she heard the other line pickup, Margo spoke first. “Whatever you goddamn do, do not say a word that isn’t yes or no. Are you alone?”

She wondered if Christopher Pike would recognize the voice on the other side of the telephone line. It was his voice after all.

---

Pike was an early riser. A very early riser. The sun had barely brushed the edge of the horizon when he opened his eyes and stared up at his new ceiling. He didn’t know immediately that anything was different. But he felt the tickling strands of long hair along his neck and instinctively reached to the side of the mattress, expecting someone to be there. The sheets were cold. The bed empty except for himself. He slowly brought his hand to the thick strands of hair and gave them a gentle tug. The top of his scalp felt the pull at the roots. Then he ran his hands over his face and neck and—

—stopped just above the sternum.

What?

Pike wasn’t the sort to panic. It wasn’t in his disposition. And years of Starfleet training and deep space missions had taught him to keep his cool.

He climbed out of bed, his boxer shorts, normally skin tight, hanging more loosely around his waist and thighs. But not his hips. He quickly made his way into the bathroom, turned on the light above the mirror, and stared into Margo’s eyes.

Margo’s eyes. Margo’s face. Margo’s body. But his thoughts, his feelings, his consciousness behind that confused expression.

His thoughts jumped to the night before. Had he done something that might have warranted this strange exchange of consciousness? Was this some form of unfamiliar magic? Where was Margo? Better yet, where was his own body?

He took a deep breath and exhaled, pushing all of the questions to the side. He went to grab his phone, but was distracted by the neighing of horses out in the paddock. Horses, more than one. He hadn’t brought any of the other station horses over to his new property. Only Whiskey—er, Justice Juice. He glanced at the clock. It was still early. Wherever she was, Margo was probably asleep.

Prioritize, Chris. One crisis at a time.

He grabbed a flannel shirt—oversized on Margo’s small frame—and slipped into a pair of jeans, which he hiked up around the cuffs. He’d look ridiculous walking out to the field in his boots, but no one would see him.

An hour later, his phone rang. Pike stepped out of his boots at the door, a sigh of relief falling from his lips when he saw Margo’s name on the screen. He went to answer and then stopped when he heard her demanding voice.

His demanding voice.

Well, his voice. Not his tone.

“Yes.”

---

Her voice. Not her tone.

Margo had forgotten, in one word, that she could even sound like that. It wasn’t always that way. She’d softened in Eliot’s presence. Slightly. In her best friend’s presence. Margo put a hand to her face and felt the prickly growth of stubble on her face. There was a spell that would— right. No magic. She kept forgetting.

The next question didn’t sound quite right.

Margo tried to keep to that same, demanding, pissed off tone. That tone was her armor. But there was something about the next question that made it too difficult for Margo to keep up the act.

“Have you told anyone? Does anyone know?”

That was, at best case, deep concern in Margo-as-Pike’s voice, and at worst case, fear. Like negotiating a hostage crisis. Only they were the hostages, currently trapped in one another’s body.

Margo was very still, convinced that the answer was the difference between living out the rest of her life as an older, attractive muggle and getting back to being herself. She convinced herself she would be livid if that were the case. Anger was an animating force for her, her drive, the defense mechanism that successfully kept her from being defeated by fear or doubt.

The truth was, there were worse bodies to be swapped with. Worse people she could have become. She refused to think she got the better deal because her own body was a few decades younger and had magic, but…

Given how she lived her life, there was no real guarantee she was going to live to a ripe old age, anyway.

Had an entire second passed yet? Two? It felt like it’d been several minutes, waiting to hear if their fates had already been sealed or not.

---

Pike paused thoughtfully. He felt like he was having an out of body experience. Hearing his voice—particularly with that mix of worry and fear—was jarring. He sat down at the kitchen table and set the phone on speaker. His head was swirling. He needed a cup of coffee. Or maybe he needed to go back to bed.

That would surely fix this nightmare, wouldn’t it?

“No,” he finally said. And that was true. He hadn’t spoken to anyone. Granted, he was fairly certain Whiskey knew what had happened. Pike didn’t look like himself, but he still acted like himself. Even if he was in a physique nearly half his size.

Thankfully horses were intuitive creatures. They might not have recognized his appearance or his scent, but they recognized his demeanor. And his calm.

Even if that calm currently felt like it was at the eye of a storm.

He wanted to say more, but Margo had decided to take the lead on this. And Pike was willing to let her. She seemed to know more than him already. And he knew her well enough now to follow her directions. She demanded ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and the Starfleet captain gave her exactly that.

---

There was an immediate, visceral relief present in Margo’s response, “Oh thank fuck.”

So they weren’t completely screwed by Margo’s estimation. At least not yet.

“Someone must have roofied us with a body swap potion. Or did something annoying and clever and worked it out some other way. The important thing is no one else can know we’re swapped. If we tell anyone, on purpose or by accident, the effect becomes permanent. So for now, if anyone asks, you’re me, I’m you. At least until we have more information about what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

Margo didn’t say he could answer in more than yesses or nos but she was pretty sure, now that she’d explained how such magic worked on her own world, it was basically implied. Basically.

“Get over here and bring a bag. I need clothes that fit me and bring whatever it is you use for your hair, shaving, the whole nine. Your hair is flat as fuck right now and it looks goddamned unnatural. When you get to the house you’re going to have to be careful. Eliot is living with me, thankfully it’s early and there’s a good chance he’s still asleep. You’re going to take off anything that’s not a button up shirt and walk of shame it back to my room. If you run into Eliot and you can act, you’re the cat that caught the goddamn canary, coming up for round five of an all night bangfest. If you run into Eliot and can’t act, then do your best ice queen like it’s none of his business what the fuck you got up to last night.”

It was a lot of information but Pike was smart and so far had followed direction well.

“I can fix this. Or we can. We just have to find the source or the asshole who did this. No way it was Eliot or Quentin. They would never. Which means this is from someone or something else. I don’t have magic in this body, so I’m going to assume you do. No sudden finger movements.”

Was that everything? Probably not but it was enough to get Pike over to her so they could work this out.

“You okay otherwise?” she asked. Margo could roll with this, or convinced herself that she could. For someone not used to magic? It was a lot. Or she assumed it would be. If he wasn’t going to be able to do what she told him, better to have it out now and come up with Plan B.

---

“I’m okay otherwise,” Pike said just before hanging up the call. And he was. Was this an unforeseeable and slightly problematic situation for him? Yes. Was he accustomed to magic? No. But his first officer had recently experienced an exchange of consciousnesses so this wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for him. Just unconventionally out of the ordinary.

If anything, it made him feel like he was back on the bridge of the Enterprise. Where anything could—and would—happen if given the opportunity.

But freaking out would not improve their circumstances. Nor would it help him learn how to reverse whatever spell or science was involved in this uncomfortable swap. So Pike was determined to remain calm and collected and, well, like Pike.

Margo’s tone insinuated that he hurry, but Pike knew himself well. He worked better on a full stomach. So he made himself a hearty breakfast—he couldn’t eat all of it because he was used to cooking for a man of a particular size and Margo’s appetite caved after two eggs and a piece of toast—and then he packed up a to-go bag of clothes, hair products, and a shaving kit. He grabbed his sheriff’s jacket, which was too broad in the shoulders, and then he headed out to the stables and saddled up Whiskey—Justice Juice—for the ride to Margo’s beach house.

A little over an hour later, he was hitching Whiskey to a tree near Margo’s side yard. She told him to be mindful of Eliot, but Pike wasn’t going to fake a walk of shame. That wasn’t his style. Lucky for him Eliot wasn’t around. Perhaps still asleep in the spare room.

Pike easily slipped his now smaller feet out of his boots by the back door and tiptoed through the house—very careful not to accidentally move his fingers too erratically—until he made his way to Margo’s bedroom. He knocked his knuckles gently against the door before pushing it open. They may have known each other in a way that was far beyond intimate now, but he was still bound by his gentlemanly courtesy.

“Margo?” he whispered, his voice unnaturally soft and quiet compared to his own voice. That might have been the most disorienting thing of all.

He slowly stepped into the room, setting the bag down on the floor by the door.

---

Margo— Pike— opened the door. There was a quick adjustment needed. The petite magician was used to looking up, not down, to meet people in the eye. His face did not look especially happy in that moment, as she hurried him through the door before closing it.

“The fuck took you so long?” Margo kept her voice lower in decibels than she would have normally. Though there were wards in her room to make sure the sound didn’t carry, in theory she could have screamed as loud as she wanted, it didn’t feel right to use his voice in that way. “I was alone. Here. As you. How the fuck was I going to explain that to Eliot if he woke up? It’s cool, you have no idea who I am but I’m totally not a naked serial killer who disappeared your best friend.”

She didn’t mention the lack of instruction following when it came to entering her room. That was clearly another lecture she thought about giving, but he’d made it. For now that was what mattered, though it did shake her confidence in how well she could depend on him.

“Did you bring what I asked?”

Maybe not a lecture, but the implication that she wasn’t sure he could follow basic instruction anymore was there.

Her expression was hard but it was harder to hide any other feelings behind a wall of impenetrable anger. Margo, loathe to ever admit any weakness to someone she didn’t know well and trust implicitly, had been afraid. What was taking so long? What if lobstrocities got him? What if he’d lied about not telling anyone and ditched her rather than face her?

Given her low opinion of humanity in general it was that last question that had started to feel the most likely and the most devastating.

The phone call between them hadn’t been a list of demands. Seeing Margo in Pike’s body wearing nothing but a bedsheet it was clear: the call had been a cry for help.

---

As himself Pike didn’t have any special powers. He didn’t have magic. He wasn’t a telepath. He couldn’t mind meld or see the future or breathe on a Y-class planet. In the vast expanse of universal miracles, he wasn’t special. He was just a human. Just a man.

But he was intuitive and compassionate and he cared about the welfare of the people around him. Particularly the people he considered to be his crew and his responsibility. He didn’t have his starship in Dunwich. He technically wasn’t a captain except in title. But he’d made some connections with people that felt like the community he had on his ship. He didn’t know what Margo thought of him. But he considered her to be a friend. She was part of his Dunwich crew. And as a member of his crew she had both his attention and his sympathy.

For as long as she needed it.

“I’m sorry I took so long. It took me a while to find a crate I could stand on in order to get into the saddle.” That was only half of the story, but it was still true. He left out the part about eating breakfast because he needed that energy to sustain his confidence and composure. He didn’t want Margo to feel even more abandoned. “You’re not alone now.”

Pike took a step closer to her. It was strange seeing his face. Even more unsettling to see it so angry and vulnerable. He was looking at himself, but he could tell from the expression and from the look in his eyes that it wasn’t him. Not that he was never angry. Sometimes he was. But he rarely held such a stern gaze.

“I brought everything you asked for as well as a few extra items that might be useful.” He glanced back at the bag by the door. “Have you ever shaved a jaw before? Because I can do that for you. If you’d like, that is.”

Pike had learned that it was best not to make assumptions with Margo. That was a sure fire way to ignite her temper.

And the last thing they both needed at the moment was an argument.

---

It took a few beats of staring at her own body to decide how mad she wanted to be. She liked Pike, but Margo typically came in two modes: Ride Or Die or whatever. It was scary even thinking about moving someone from the fine, I guess column to the would kill for column. Indifference was easy. Indifference didn’t get you hurt.

“I’m not going to risk slicing your pretty face. That’s on you.” Which was a very guarded way of accepting his offer for help without admitting any weakness. Any confidence or composure she had was an act.

“Clothes are there. Take whatever you want, but you cannot walk around wearing clothes three times your actual size.” Margo pointed to the generously sized, open walk-in closet. “There are workout clothes, but if you wear them for too long someone is going to get suspicious. I don’t do the stay-at-home yoga mom look.”

Pike’s body stepped into the closet to motion to the different sections of the well lit, and meticulously organized wardrobe. “Flats, slacks, tops.” She pointed to a drawer, “Bras. Briefs.”

The clothes were almost all high end, designer. There were no jeans, nothing in denim, no flannel. Margo did not do t-shirts. The most plain clothing in style were typically in bold prints and colors. With that out of the way, Margo left Pike to search through her clothing while she went to go pick up the bag and rifle through what he’d picked out for her. There was also the clothing he wore currently.

“You wear shoes over here or come in barefoot?” Margo asked. If she kept it all business, she didn’t have to linger on her feelings. To anyone that knew Pike, Margo’s coldness would have looked unnatural on him.

---

“People are going to be suspicious regardless. I don’t exactly have your brand of domineering behavior.” Pike offered a halfhearted grin. “I guess I could pretend to be one of the more commanding training officers I had at the academy. They had your style of take-charge-and-get-shit-done attitude.”

Pike followed her over to the closet and listened patiently as Margo went through the various clothing items. It was a lot. And while Pike considered himself a well-dressed fellow, he knew nothing about women’s fashion.

“I left my boots outside. They were a little muddy. I thought I’d spare your floors.” Cue another crooked smile that probably looked a little awkward on Margo’s face. He was trying to smooth out the tension in the situation. He was trying to add a little bit of levity to the moment and ignore the possibility that their circumstances might be permanent.

Not permanent. There’s a solution to every problem. If Margo can’t figure it out with magic then maybe Spock could come up with an answer. Those were Pike’s initial thoughts. But then he remembered Margo’s warning not to tell anyone.

It was a complication that Pike hadn’t quite figured out. But he was confident they would.

He pursed his lips and eyed the workout clothes with envy, wondering if he could come up with a good enough reason to explain why Margo would be rocking athletic wear for a few days.

Or however long it took for them to figure this out.

“I think this might work better if you pick out something appropriate for me. Preferably something that isn’t too uncomfortable. I do my best acting when I’m not physically restricted.” He’d need help with the hair too. He’d had long hair before, but not to this extent. And while he could style a quiff, he didn’t know how to make a woman’s hair look nice.

Maybe he could convince Margo to let him do a simple, practical ponytail.

“I should shower. I smell like horse.” Pike sniffed the collar of his oversized flannel. It wasn’t bad, but it wouldn’t help convince people that he was Margo. He turned his focus on Margo who was doing a pretty decent job at pretending to be composed. But he felt the concern—maybe the fear—in the air between them. “Are you going to be okay? What can I do to make this easier for you?”

---

Margo’s face&mdashl Pike’s face— was stone as she took mercy on him and picked out an outfit of workout clothes: leggings, sports bra, trainers. The only potential complication? Margo wore thongs. She picked the most plain and comfortable looking one she owned and added it to the pile.

She didn’t laugh at his levity, didn’t even crack a smile. She wasn’t upset with Pike, even if it came off that way. Margo was plotting. When she was ready to talk, however, the switch from cold to confident was obvious as an unlit versus a lit room.

“We’re going to get in the shower. We’re going to go over beauty routines. We’re going to get dressed, and we’re going to go over some magical basics. I may need you to do locator spells, potion work, the whole nine, if we’re going to get out of this…”

What made Margo feel better? Bossing Enterprise Captains around, apparently.

“...We’re avoiding Eliot. If anyone is going to get suspicious fast, it’ll be him.”

When Pike asked if she would be okay? Her face nearly turned to stone again. Okay was not relevant. There was Figure This Out or Don’t and Don’t wasn’t an option. If she were really being honest with herself, however, it was that her pride wouldn’t let herself get shown up by a space captain when it came to rolling with weird. She was a goddamn magician. Weird was supposed to be her thing.

Of course she had to one up him.

But what would make it easier? Obviously banging out their frustration. Margo gave Pike a once over and thought better of it. Now felt too soon to propose. But that did lead to an important bit of housekeeping.

“You can’t sleep with anyone. Not because I wouldn’t be fine with it, but as long as we’re pretending to be each other, I don’t think it’s fair without fully informed consent. That doesn’t mean I want you to miss out, so if the idea doesn’t induce a panic attack and you’re interested, I have toys and I can give you some alone time to get acquainted with your very temporary situation. You might as well get something out of this, right?”

Margo unwrapped herself from the bedsheets and tossed them back into the next room. It wasn’t like Pike had never seen himself naked before. The master bath was past the walk in closet where there was both a large tub and generous walk in shower.

Like a gentleman, Margo opened the shower door and motioned for him to join her.

---

Pike just stared at her. He had a very specific routine when it came to dealing with stress and conflict and unexpected circumstances. He was the master of the cool head. And when he had his doubts, he always had Number One or Spock to bounce his concerns off of. He opened himself up to discussion and collaboration. Margo seemed to have a different approach. An approach that felt, to Pike at least, like it required putting up walls and blocking out anything that could tip the balance in one drastic direction or the other.

And then she jumped from preparation, plotting, and prevention to sex.

That’s when Pike realized she must have been nervous. Either that or Margo was a much more callous person than he realized. Which very well might have been the case. He didn’t exactly have a good track record at ‘reading’ his lovers. He had the tendency to get involved with problematic women.

He let out a soft sigh. “Intimacy with anyone hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

And Pike was a little hurt that she might have thought that was something he wanted to do or try or experience. His first priority was the protection of Margo’s body at all cost. He would treat it as delicately as possible so that when it was returned to her it was exactly as it had been. He wasn’t going to take any risks or any chances. He respected her too much for that.

He respected all life too much for that.

“I don’t have to get anything out of this, Margo. I don’t know what you think my priorities are or what my intentions might be. But as far as I’m concerned my job right now is to keep you safe. Both the mental you and the physical you. I recognize that I’m not the best body swap match. I don’t have any magical powers and I’m not particularly scientifically inclined. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure all parts of you remain safe until they’re reunited again.” Pike took a step towards the bathroom, slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt. “If there is anything to get out of this situation then I hope it is merely the opportunity to know you better. Nothing else need factor into it.”

Pike went quiet when she removed the bed sheets and he watched her—himself—walk into the bathroom. Again he felt that out-of-body wave of nausea overcome him. This was going to take some getting used to.

“We can discuss the magic aspect later. Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” he said, undoing the final buttons and dropping the flannel shirt on the bathroom floor. “Not to sound like my science officer, but there must be a logical explanation for all of this. We just need to work it out.”

Then he stepped into the shower.

---

Her expression softened slightly, as she listened to Pike’s response. She was quiet, trying to determine his level of comfort versus level of Boy Scout. Sometimes the two things went hand in hand. Whether she was nervous or callous, the two weren’t always mutually exclusive with Margo. Sometimes, it was just how she coped.

Either Margo had a fancy bathroom, or she’d enchanted the plumbing. Once they were both in, she turned on the water which started at a perfect temperature, instead of a shock of cold before heating up.

“I want you to do what you’re comfortable with,” Margo said gently. She grabbed the first bottle, a hair mask, and showed it to Pike with an implied first product before she motioned for him to turn around so she could apply it to her hair. Margo took the product into her fingers, started to part the hair in front of her and work it carefully into sections. Maintain her appearance was ritualistically important. Doing it for Pike felt like suiting him up for battle.

“When it comes to magic, half the time it makes problems bigger and more fucked up. This is a fucked up situation. That doesn’t mean that the few positives it does come with shouldn’t be experienced. Avoiding that isn’t protecting me. Now maybe it’s too soon to bring it up and we don’t know each other that well, but what I do know is that we’re fucking smart and we get shit done. Knowing us, we’ll have this figured out within a day or two, tops.”

Once the first product was fully combed through Pike’s hair, she twisted it up into a makeshift bun at the crown of his head. Without realizing it, she was smiling. Something about sharing this ritual with him was more enjoyable than she imagined.

While the hair mask did it’s thing, there was shaving, moisturizers, buffers— was half of it unnecessary? Probably. Margo pampered herself. This was her time to relax. She watched Pike’s reaction carefully to see if it had the same or opposite effect before turning him around and placing him under the water to rinse out his hair.

---

“I’m not uncomfortable with magic when it involves others. That’s a gift. Something to be respected, feared, and live in awe of. But my experience with such things has been … difficult in the past. I don’t know that I want to tempt fate that way again,” Pike said, turning around as she instructed, lifting his hair back over his shoulders to give her better access. He wasn’t purposefully cryptic about his experience, but he was cautious. Remembering his decision on Boreth left him with a bittersweet feeling. Given the chance to relive the moment, he would make the same choice. But that didn’t make it any easier to live with.

He closed his eyes while Margo worked her hands—his hands, what an odd sensation—into his hair and scalp. There was a kind of intimacy to this shared moment that he hadn’t anticipated. And it left him questioning more than just how he was going to figure out this problem.

But he didn’t bring that up.

“You have a very complicated shower routine.” Pike wasn’t entirely relaxed, but his discomfort had little to do with Margo and her care to make sure his body—her body—passed muster for their plan to pretend to be each other. It was more about the unfamiliarity of her body. Her height. Her size. Her shape. He still hadn’t quite found his Margo balance yet.

But he was learning to appreciate how much care she could show another person. Even if that other person was technically, kind of, herself.

He turned around and stepped under the shower, allowing the water to soak his entire body while he rinsed the product out of his hair. He was very careful not to touch himself anywhere that might have been inappropriate. This was an instinctive action. They’d been together. He’d touched her everywhere before. But this felt different. And even though she’d technically given him permission, it didn’t seem right. Not at the moment anyway.

“This is something I’ve missed,” Pike said after a long pause. “A real shower. On the Enterprise we only have sonic showers in order to preserve water. It does the job, but it’s not the same.”

---

“I hear that. Fillory doesn’t have running water or electricity. It’s pretty much the dark ages, only worse because their world is so dependent on magic…”

Margo’s voice trailed off when she realized the slip up. “...Because my kingdom is so dependent on magic, the moment something goes wrong basically everything is a DEFCON One level emergency.”

Margo was quiet. It was easy to reach above Pike’s head now, picking up product she wanted and putting it back. She didn’t speak when she washed Pike’s hair, or conditioned it afterward. When Margo was done, she went through her own collection of shampoo and sniffed to find the least girly smelling one she could pick out. It wasn’t a big deal. If they were pretending Pike spent the night, it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for him to use her product… for one day.

“So your world has magic? Spock made it sound like magic didn’t exist. That everything could be explained with science.”

Margo washed her hair, conditioned it, and washed herself with clinical disinterest out for respect for Pike. If there was anything else he wanted Margo to use, there was practically a full bar of product available to choose from.

---

Pike caught her fumble and he noted it, but he didn’t bring it up. He knew Margo was royalty of some kind. He knew that she was of two worlds. But further than that she hadn’t really offered to explain. And he didn’t feel like it was his place to dig deeper.

He wasn’t the only casual conversation partner she had, after all. Nor did he presume to be the favorite.

“Spock probably can explain everything with science. But I’m not Spock. Sometimes I see things that defy the imagination. Things that seem to have no basis in the laws of the universe as I understand them. Is it magic? Maybe not. But sometimes it feels like it is. And it very well could be. The universe is a big place. No one person will ever be able to comprehend it all.” Pike’s rather modest way of saying that he knew he was smart, but he also knew his limitations.

He closed his eyes again while she conditioned his hair. Then another rinse. He stepped out of the way when she worked on her own much shorter, and much more hassle-free hair. Damn, he missed that hair.

It was then that he noticed something strange in the shower mist. Colors. Weird, twisting hues that floated on the air. He instinctively reached out with his hand and tried to grab them, but they slipped through his fingertips as though they weren’t there.

“I think I’m hallucinating…”

---

“Cover your right eye and tell me if you still see whatever you’re seeing. One of my eyes isn’t human. I had a run in with fairies. I have a few eyepatches if it gets to be too much and you want to keep it covered.”

Sometimes, especially in Fillory or Castle Whitespire, the eye picked up on colors she’d never imagined, on a spectrum she never knew existed, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever taken in her entire life.

And sometimes there were just weird flashy colors that gave her low grade headaches. Usually on Earth. Less beautiful, more irritating.

“You know magic is allowed to be fun.” It was a gentle prodding. “Once we swap back, I’ll even show you.”

Once they were finished in the shower, it was time to dry off and get ready for the next phase: hair, make up, shaving. Margo would let Pike take point on that. She went mercifully light on the makeup. Mostly eyeliner and mascara. (Some coverup. Okay and also some lip tint. Moisturizer was a must, obviously…) If she was dressed for working out, it didn’t make sense to go with anything heavier.

With hair she tried to go simple. No way he’d get away with just putting it in a pony tail. There was drying, straightening, adding product to control for the coastal town’s humidity. Margo was doing her best to go easy on him but she also had standards.

Then she put his hair up for him.

When it came to Margo’s turn, there was a slight logistical problem.

“If I’m too tall, you could try sitting on the counter,” Margo offered.

---

Pike placed his palm above his right eye and the colors instantly vanished. He moved his hand away again and the colors returned. They weren’t too distracting, just strange and a little annoying. Now that he at least knew the cause of them—and was certain he wasn’t losing his mind—he felt a bit better about them. It was good to know that an eyepatch was an option. But hopefully he wouldn’t be in Margo’s body long enough to think about long term solutions to his fairy hallucinations.

“I’m not doubting the good times magic can provide. And I’m more than certain that it can provide an overly enticing time in your hands. I’m just hoping it’s not necessary for me to use it. For starters, I don’t think I’d be very good at it. And I haven’t had much luck with it in the past. Best to save everyone from the danger of me inadvertently making this situation worse by trying to make it better.” But Pike was probably minimizing his abilities in this matter. He was a quick study. He knew how to listen and take directions. He probably could have learned a little bit, especially with Margo’s guidance. The truth, however, was that he was afraid of what might happen.

Or that he might learn to enjoy it and yearn for it once it was gone.

Power had a knack for influencing even the most generous and goodhearted of people, after all.

Pike followed her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself while Margo saw to his hair and makeup. It was a particularly grueling process for him. He didn’t think he’d be able to devote this much time to his appearance everyday. He already wasted enough time on his hair. If he had to apply eyeliner and foundation and blush and lipstick and goodness knows what else, he’d never leave his bathroom.

When she was done, however, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and couldn’t help but feel a little bit more confident. Not beautiful, because Pike thought Margo was naturally beautiful. But the extra flair of makeup gave him a boost of self-reliance he hadn’t felt when he woke up that morning.

Now it was Margo’s turn.

Pike stood up and immediately realized the challenge of height. But sitting on the counter was out of the question. He needed to get close to maneuver around the sharp hooks of the jaw. “How about you sit on the edge of the bed? You can tell me more about how this spell works while I prepare to remove those whiskers of yours. Or mine. Or whatever.”

He filled the sink with hot water while he removed the cream and razor from his shaving kit.

---

“Okay,” Margo said in a very Margo tone that almost made it impossible to hear and think, Christopher Pike said that, unless he ever decided to take up the drag queen persona of Auntie Prize.

She could follow directions on occasion, and did so, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as requested. Margo stretched out Pike’s long legs in front of her and crossed them at the ankles, leaning back on both her hands and taking it all in appreciatively. There was nothing lascivious in Margo’s eyes, just acknowledgement that this was a body that was well taken care of. She felt strong, comfortable, surprisingly energetic for someone older than her. It was hard not to project a certain amount of confidence feeling like that.

“I’ve only used a body swap potion once. Encanto Oculto, a week long festival in Ibiza. Basically a week of sun, sex, drugs and magic. Eliot and I were invited as first years and went together each year, except the last year I went when he ditched. That year someone brought body swap potions for the regalo to the elders, so of course we pretty much used them in the best ways imaginable.”

Margo looked nostalgic. Those were simpler times. Pre-Fillory, pre-royalty, pre-The Beast, pre-any real responsibility. It was also why Margo didn’t feel any strong desire not to do any exploring in Pike’s body, she’d already sated that curiosity. Not that she wouldn’t have respected his do-gooder boy scout nature regardless, but there was no feeling of missing out.

“You use a flask or another bottle with the potion in it. The two people swapping each take a drink. Once the second person drinks, they swap, though… now that I’m thinking about it…”

Margo looked thoughtful.

“You mentally swap using the potion. Only I woke up in my bed in your body wearing my thong, which would suggest more transformation than a swap.”

She worked it over in her mind. If she were going to sow mass chaos…

“Still think we should keep up pretenses until we know more. Like I said, if anyone admits to the swap with the potion? It becomes permanent. This wouldn’t be the worst body to be stuck in by a long shot, but I’d still like mine back. This whole thing feels like one of Ember’s pranks.”

---

Pike winced at the thought of her waking up in his body with a thong on. His gaze dropped momentarily as though to check. Then he shook his head and lathered up the shaving cream on a brush. He was from the future. The far future for most people in Dunwich. But he still appreciated the old fashioned methods for a lot of things. And when he saw that antiquated shaving kit in one of the stores his first week in this strange new world, he had to have it. He had one back in Bear Creek that wasn’t too dissimilar. He didn’t bring it with him on the Enterprise, because they actually had a certified barber on board—but when he was home on his ranch with the mountains visible from his bedroom window, he liked to take his time and do as many things as possible without the luxury of technology. Like shaving with a real straight razor.

Then again, the last time he’d spent too much time at home he let his beard grow out to an unruly length. But that was before things changed. Before his old captain asked him to take up the reins again.

Pike dipped the razor in the hot water and then made his way over to Margo, brushing the cream on her face. His face. God, it was so damn weird looking into his own face and not having it be a mirror. “Try not to move too much. It’s been a while since I’ve done this to someone else. And I’d rather not slice my own throat. Not sure if I’d ever get over that amount of trauma.”

He started at the back of the left jaw, slowly dragging the sharp edge of the razor along her skin. He almost thought he could feel it. He was so familiar with the sensation. Like a phantom limb. The feeling was there and yet … not.

He wiped the blade off on the corner of his towel and brought it up under her chin. Careful, delicate motions, particularly when he went against the grain.

“Spock once mind-transferred with his fiancee in the middle of an important diplomatic negotiation. They tried to keep it to themselves at first, too. Which, of course, only made circumstances more uncomfortable for everyone. Thankfully it was resolved without too much lasting damage. Honestly, I thought that might be the last time I’d ever have to experience such an event among my crew. We don’t usually run into the same fiasco more than once.” Pike paused. “Except Klingons, that is. And the Gorn.”

He returned to the sink to rinse the razor in hot water again before returning to do the thin layer of skin above Margo’s lip. “I guess that explains why you seem so relaxed. You’ve seen yourself from the other side before. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m having an existential crisis.”

---

Margo, having a much higher tolerance for intensive routine, seemed completely comfortable with letting Pike clean her up. She held perfectly still and was impressed with his skills with the old fashioned razor. No wonder he always had such a clean shave. Not that he wouldn’t have looked bad with stubble but as far as she could tell, it was very unlike him.

“I’ll trade you the Lorians and the Floaters,” Margo said dryly. She didn’t know if the Klingons or Gorn were any better or worse than the one and a half other kingdoms of Fillory, but they were enough of a headache she was willing to risk mixing things up.

It was mostly a joke.

Mostly.

“You’re being way too modest, you know? You run with just as much weird as any magician I’ve ever known and I have yet to see you ever lose your shit. It’s pretty annoying, actually.”

Now that they were together, now that they were on the same page, now that they were acting as a team, Margo had relaxed considerably from when Pike first showed up. Another one of his gifts, maybe.

Maybe that was why she smiled. Seeing her softer side might have been more impressive had she been wearing her own face. A kindly expression on Pike was more or less a daily occurrence.

“If you really want to talk existential crisis that body is about seven days away from Shark Week so we are on the fucking clock. Not that I don’t think you can’t handle it but why the fuck would you want to if you don’t have to, am I right?”

They finished getting ready. Got dressed. His style was a bit too ranch hand for her taste, but it wasn’t uncomfortable and he made it look good.

“Let’s go show everyone else up and fix this thing. I have a reputation to maintain.” Because Margo absolutely would be competitive about finding the answer and fixing this first.

Given her smile, she looked like she might even have fun doing it.

* * *

Pike propped up the pillow behind his shoulders, elevating his head. He placed a hand on his chest. On his own chest. It felt familiar and right, but he couldn’t help but remember how quickly he’d grown accustomed to looking different. Was that a result of his coolheadedness? Or did it go deeper? Was it because he knew one day his own body would be a prison that didn’t feel like it belonged to him? Pike couldn’t say. But while he was glad to be reunited with himself, there was a lingering air of discontent in his thoughts; a quiet longing for a different future. A future he wasn’t locked into.

He shook the painful reminder away as quickly as possible. Mulling over the inevitable wouldn’t change it.

The important thing was that he and Margo had succeeded. They’d figured out how to reverse the curse. Margo was back in her own body. Pike was in his. And as soon as they figured out how to help the others the rest of Dunwich would return to its version of normal. Then they could all go back to figuring out how to go home.

Or, at least, help those who wanted to go home return to their worlds. Pike had noticed a few people seemed to adapt readily to Dunwich. There were more than just a handful who saw themselves building a better life in this new reality. Pike wasn’t one of them, but he understood the compelling nature of a second chance. But he also believed Spock’s lizard experience—as bizarre as that was—and knew that eventually he’d be back on the bridge of the Enterprise, counting down the days until the end.

He rolled his head to the side and looked at Margo. This moment had felt a little different from their last, but he didn’t say so. Margo was the kind of person who almost always had her walls up. And Pike knew that whatever passed between them was probably the result of insightful intimacy—having just spent the last few days as each other. Still, he thought he noticed more of an openness in her and it was nice to see.

Even if it was temporary.

---

If Margo was being honest, the sex was an excuse. True, Margo did her best problem solving when distracted. The disco party had been an exercise to help her find a way out of Dunwich (a failure). Banging in swapped bodies the night before? A half baked excuse to not think about their problem in order to solve the curse. (A success, once she admitted her jealousy afterward.)

Sleeping with him again? An even flimsier excuse to try and come up with a way to tell the others how to reverse the effects of the curse. Margo knew better. She knew it was a good way to catch feelings. And for what? They were two different people, with very strong opinions on getting back home.

If either of them had any sense they should have been sick of seeing each other by now. After three days trapped in each other’s bodies? Margo turned on her side, facing him, frowning. It wasn’t a cold or an angry expression, but one of remorse.

“I almost fucked you. Like really fucked you,” she said. Despite her choice of words there was a vulnerability in her eyes that was matched by her tone. “And even now, after all that bullshit I just put you through, you’re still here.”

She didn’t ask why. Margo didn’t have to. It was written all over her face.

---

“But you didn’t.”

Pike was a firm believer in distinctions. In recognizing the difference between when a person thought about something and had the opportunity to do something and when they didn’t. Particularly when those choices could affect someone else negatively. Margo may have considered doing something that would have changed the balance in their—friendship? Pike liked to think they had a kind of friendship—relationship. But she didn’t. And that distinction mattered to Pike.

“I didn’t really get the opportunity to share my thoughts when you were explaining the circumstances that led to our situation, but I’m not perfect, you know. I’m just like anyone else here. I’ve got my bad side. I can have a temper. I’ve looked into darkness before and felt the stain of it on my soul. There are a lot of sides to Christopher Pike that are not enviable.” But maybe by admitting that he just showed how he was different from so many others. It wasn’t easy admitting one’s own flaws.

But Pike had the benefit of knowing the importance of borrowed time. To be anything less than honest seemed pointless.

“You’re tough, Margo. And I mean that in a good way. You’ve got a strength that most people would envy. And I don’t just mean with your magic. You’re tenacious and you know what you want. But you’re also devoted to your family.” Yes, Pike noticed how she referred to Eliot and Quentin and even Julia. Hard on the outside but in a way that also showed how important they were to her. “I could have just as easily walked into that shop and found something that reminded me of you.”

Pike cracked a smile. “But it probably wouldn’t have been something as useful as a mixer. Which, I might add, I’m looking forward to using.”

---

“You might have to excuse me if I wait to see what happens to anyone that eats whatever you make with that mixer first.” Margo half smiled, her brows raised skeptically. She might have been serious with her words, but the tone suggested a more good natured ribbing.

Her next move was perhaps less expected. Margo closed the distance between them on the king sized bed, resting her head on his chest, reaching her arm over his stomach, crossing one leg over his.

This was a far cry from their first encounter when he built her terrarium. Margo didn’t even bother taking him to the bedroom and afterward dismissed him and sent him on his way.

The second encounter was better, but Margo also had ulterior motives. She knew exactly how she liked to be touched, every nerve and space on her body that set her off, and had essentially made it her mission to give herself everything she’d ever wanted, even if she wasn’t the one to experience it. Her own pleasure had been a second thought, perhaps because she didn’t have high expectations it would last long or compare given her gender that night.

But tonight? Tonight hadn’t been some misguided competition for her. Tonight she’d simply been present. She wasn’t done being present, and enjoyed the feeling of his chest rising and falling with each breathe.

“Your bad side sounds like my every day.”

It felt like her everyday, certainly. With her head resting on him, he couldn’t see the frowning expression on her face.

---

Pike laughed at Margo’s mixer joke, but in the back of his mind he made a note to test whatever he made with the mixer before sharing it with others. Just in case. One could never be too careful in Dunwich after all.

Then Margo surprised him.

Pike had no regrets about any of their nights together. Was he disappointed after she kicked him out the night he assembled the terrarium? A little. But only because he felt like he missed out on breakfast conversation. Pike was big on making meals for the people he was with—even if it was just meant to be a one time thing. And he enjoyed discourse. Conversation while cooking was a big part of how he got to know the people around him.

Their second time together was something he’d never forget. And not just because the entire situation felt oddly self serving. He tried his best not to look into his own face during the experience, but in those fleeting moments when he did catch a glimpse of his own eyes he was both relieved—and a little terrified—to see someone else looking back at him. But Margo had been different during that encounter. It was the opposite of their first time. She made him feel like it was all about him. And somehow, although he couldn’t pinpoint how, he didn’t feel uncomfortable about it afterwards. If anything he felt … fulfilled. He felt seen.

And now? Now he felt like they’d crossed some threshold of understanding with each other. Maybe it was the honesty she shared about her envy. Maybe it was the days they both lived in each other’s bodies. Or perhaps it was something else that Pike hadn’t quite figured out. But he felt like they were at a different place with each other now. A place where they could actually communicate with each other.

And her head upon his chest seemed to solidify that in his mind.

“You’re a ruler,” he said, rubbing her back with his palm. “I’m sure you know what it means to put on an image for other people. To hide parts of yourself that might cause them to doubt your ability to be successful in the things you do. Being a Starfleet captain is no different. My crew expects a certain confidence and command. They expect a certain compassion and control. But that doesn’t mean what I show them is always true. I fake it more often than not.”

He drew an imaginary line over her shoulder with his finger. “I’m full of imperfections. And most of the time I have to credit the people around me for holding back my bad side.”

---

“Nope,” Margo said. It was part of her blunt honesty. Sometimes too blunt. Usually she wielded her personality defensively. But occasionally it could be turned upside down into a surprising show of vulnerability. “What you see is pretty much what you get. Eliot is the diplomat. I got elected to high king because I told a drunk bear it was no big deal if he had a human girlfriend as long as everything was consensual.”

Margo closed her eyes, feeling Chris’s hand on her back. She no longer felt a difference in the tattooed skin there, the letter ‘M’ surrounded by magical sigils in black ink. Though it no longer held any magical importance, it had still been inked onto her skin with magical ritual, and those were always a bitch to remove. Easier to cover with a simple illusion spell if she really felt like hiding it.

“Depending on who you ask I was either elected on a platform of bestiality or equal rights for talking animals. Mostly I just try not to make things worse, which is usually what happens regardless when you run a fucked up kingdom that was built on the source of all magic for a large segment of the goddamned multiverse.”

High King Margo the Destroyer, indeed.

She absorbed what he claimed about imperfections. That hair? That face? That body? Not to mention his composure? His intelligence? If he had imperfections, Margo hadn’t found them yet.

“Sounds less like you’ve got a dark side and more like you’re afraid to be real with people.” Margo rolled onto her belly, propping herself up on his chest so she could look into his eyes. “You can’t be Captain Perfect Hair all the time, Chris.”

---

Pike was quiet after Margo’s explanation for how she was elected to her royal position. He wasn’t entirely certain if she was being serious or telling a joke. Then he realized that, for as long as he’d known Margo (which wasn’t a significant amount of time but it was a significant amount of contact,) she hadn’t lied to him. And he knew the world she came from was just as unbelievable as some of the planets in his galaxy.

So why wouldn’t he believe that an amorous and intoxicated bear could be the reason behind her crown?

He laughed. “I wish I could say that’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard. Don’t get me wrong. It’s close to the top. But…”

Pike shook his head. His face burned from the almost permanent smile her story left on his face. And then followed up by Captain Perfect Hair? Well, if Margo never returned to Fillory she could always pursue a career in stand-up.

But the comment about being ‘real’ with people forced Pike to stop and think about his interactions with others. He couldn’t disagree. Not entirely. There was some truth to that. He didn’t open up to everyone. Una and Spock—his Spock—knew the full truth of him. They were the closest people in his life. They knew more of his ins-and-outs than the most intimate lover. They knew his future.

“You could be right,” he said, tilting his head to get a better glimpse at the tattoo on her back. “But I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to let my hair down. Not until I had your hair.”

---

“Guess we’re going to have to work on that,” Margo promised.