Seanday Rush: Cross (and Fit)

"God damn it!" I yelled as I scrambled to my feet rubbing my head. I felt around in the darkness, and found a door--it was locked. I tried to recall what had happened; I was in the locker room. The other competitors had left for the arena. I'd heard a noise and then--I winced again, somebody had hit me from behind.

I tried the door again, and put my weight against it, and it burst open. I staggered out blinking in the bright light. "What the fuck," was all I could say when I saw the reflection of naked skinny guy in the mirrors opposite.

Racing to the locker I grabbed some shorts and vest, they hung from my unfamiliar lean frame. "What the fuck," I said again not quite believing what I was seeing.

A cheer came from the arena, and I headed outside. It was the Crossfit Games, I had made it through the semi's and into the finals in the morning. I should be out there!

Then I heard it, "... and Ryan Jackson is making amazing time, he's passed Collins and is in first place. This could be a gold for the newcomer," the commentator yelled excitedly.

Ryan Jackson? That was me! I was Ryan. I craned my neck to try and see, and there I was. Number 054, he was thick strong and tall. I watched with my mouth open as he launching himself over the wall expertly landing, then sprinting to the finish.

"Gold! And he's won the gold!"

He rested his hands on his knees taking huge gulps of air, his wide back almost bursting through the tight lycra shirt. His thick thighs and tight buns outlined my his shorts. My buns! My amazing physique!

He stood up and turned to wave at the crowd. His thick shoulders flexed, as did his powerful biceps. He clasped his hands above his head, his lats--my stolen lats--trying to burst through his shirt.

For the first time he turned to face me, his large pecs heaving as he continued to take deep breaths. It was me. The handsome face, strong jawline and a strong thick neck.

Our eyes met, and he grinned at me as he went to collect his medal. My eyes never left him as he graciously accepted. With a final wave to the crowd he headed back towards me, and the locker room.

I watched him with contempt, he'd even mastered my confident gait. "Who the fuc--" I tried to yel;, but he put a finger over my mouth.

"Now's not the time, wait for me outside."

I looked at the other competitors, they were giants next to me. I so I went outside, back to "my" truck and waited.

Forty minutes later the person that looked like me swaggered over. He looked good in my clothes, of course he would--he looked like me! Sneakers, tight jeans that only emphasised his thighs. Plaid shirt over a black v-neck vest, topped by my Letterman jacket. My duffle bag cast over his shoulder, and wearing my sunglasses.

He walked straight past me, and threw the bag into the back of the truck. From his pocket he pulled the gold medal and tossed it over. "Congratulations," he said in my voice.

I looked at it confused, it was what I'd always wanted and he'd taken it from me--or had he? I'd won it or at least someone that looked like me had. It was getting too confusing, and my head had started to hurt again.

By this time he'd already got inside the truck. The window opened, "Coming?"

I just got in the cab, lost for words. "Who are you?" I growled.

He sighed. "Ryan Jackson, for the moment."

"I'm Ryan," I retorted.

"No. You're not," he argued shaking his head.

"You knocked me out and somehow body swapped us," I went on getting more angry. He chuckled, and pulled over. I looked around, the area was deserted with high windowless buildings surrounded us. For the first time I realised how big he/I used to be--much stronger than I was now.

Leaning on the steering wheel he turned to look at me, a serious look on his face. "You're James, James Nagurski. You're not Ryan Jackson."

The name rang a distant bell, Nagurski. I'd heard it before.

He calmly took off the sunglasses and tucked them into a pocket. He slipped two fingers into his mouth and pulled. My face--the face he was wearing stretched grotesquely, he inched it backwards revealing another identity inside. With an elastic snapping sound, my old face dropped backwards like a hood. I blinked at his vaguely familiar features, a round face with thick curly hair that shot out in all directions.

"Rickman?" I murmured still unsure.

He smiled, "There is something left of you then."

"What do you mean?"

He reached out a large hand and grasped my shoulder. "We were best friends at school, and we were both bullied by Ryan Jackson. He was one of the top jocks at the school," he patted his heavy chest, "good genetics as well." I blinked trying to understanding what he was telling me. "My family moved, and I had to change schools. We chatted online for a while. You'd told me that you'd found something on the internet that would stop Ryan bullying you once and for all.

"But soon after you stopped replying to my emails," he added. "That was six years ago."

"When I returned a few days ago, you're parents said you'd gone missing. They'd searched for you for almost six months, but the police had given up," he squeezed my shoulder. "Your parents never did you know."

"They showed me your room--they'd not moved anything--waiting for you to return. I asked if I could have a moment alone. When they'd left, I looked through your desk and found a book. It discussed the process for making bodysuits, I put two and two together and searched the schools sports archive for Ryan."

"He disappeared for a few days as well--soon after your final email. But when he returned he started to get more involved with others, started coaching in his spare time. He grew stronger and more popular." He flexed a strong bicep. "And went on to win a scholarship, and a degree at university."

My mouth dropped open, he was describing my life--Ryan's life?

"You still don't get it do you?" he asked. I shook my head. "You've been inside him for so long, you actually think you ARE Ryan Jackson."

It seemed impossible, but there it was, my best friend wearing Ryan Jackson's body. "So why did you have to knock me out?"

"If I told you that you were a skinny guy wearing the skin of one the top Crossfit contestants--which just happened to be the guy that bullied you at school--would you believe me?"

I shrugged, "I guess not."

"After I dragged you into the store room, I figured why should you have all the fun. So I pulled you out of this lunk and pulled Ryan on myself. Fucking AWESOME, I was pumped as soon as I got inside his head inside--I knew how hard you'd been working on it--couldn't let you down."

"So what happens now?" I asked sheepishly. "I think I can handle him, now I've remembered."

He looks at my cautiously. "Maybe you need a break from being Ryan." I thought about my parents, especially my mom. "I'm looking to move back here, if you're willing, I can be Ryan while you find yourself again."

I wasn't really listening. I kept thinking about my mom and dad. I'd been missing for six years, I'd been incredibly selfish. "Ok," I resigned. "I'll go back home."

He smiled, and looked relieved. He pulled Ryan's face back over his own, and this time I didn't feel any anger--just a sense of relief.

He dropped me back to my families house, and I walked slowly up to the front door--trepidation in each step. I paused and remembered the medal still in my hand. Quickly I returned to the truck and passed it to Ryan through the window. "It's yours," I said.

"Thanks buddy."

I looked back at the house, it hadn't changed in the years I'd been away. "I don't know if this'll work, I'm not a kid anymore," I told him.

"Ryan's got an apartment--you know that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping out a friend." His smile was warm, and reassuring. "Call me when you're ready."

I thanked him and returned to the house. With a deep breath, and my heart pounding I knocked on the door. A few moments later an older woman, wisps of grey in her hair answered the door. There was silence for a moment, and she started to weep. "James, is that really you?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

She shouted into the house, "Harry, it's James. He's come back."

She rushed towards me giving me a hug, so tight it felt like she'd never want to let go. She finally released me, wiping her eyes. "Where," she stumbled over her words, "where have you been?"

I couldn't tell her of course. "I don't remember," was all I offered as my father joined her.

He stood there for a moment, and then hugged me in just the same way. "Son, where have you been? Why didn't you call us?"

"He doesn't remember anything," my mom answered. "Come in James," she told me taking my hand.

I turned to see Ryan watching, he smiled and gave me the thumbs up before pulling away. I had a lot to catch up on, and I knew the friend would be there all the way.

--------

Hope you enjoyed the story. Please drop me a note in the comments with any feedback--it's important.

I'll be taking a break for a month or so because I want to write some more chapters for Seuzz's "Book of Masks" over at writing.com. Don't worry though, I won't be going far. I'll answer any questions you post, and I may write a few "Caption This" stories if I'm inspired :)