Request: So here's my request: a deleted scene from our JC!twin story. :)

They were all going to look like total assholes, Chris thought, unless it turned out that JC was *dying* or something. And he wasn't, he wasn't fucking dying. So Chris could only hope that none of the girls had cried as the meet and greet that they'd been looking forward to forever was declared prematurely over. Bad press happened when fans cried for the wrong reasons.

"I'm taking a piss," he said, to no one in particular, to whoever was listening for it, and looked for the all clear before heading down a concrete stadium corridor toward the nearest bathroom. It was like looking both ways before crossing the street, only ten times as critical.

As the bathroom door swung quietly shut behind him, he suddenly found himself face to face with the man himself.

"Well aren't you the motherfucker," he said. So this was where JC'd run off to. Not much of a hiding place, really, what with pissing being the natural urge of pretty much everyone he knew. Hard not to be found in a bathroom.

"Huh?" said JC, startled away from his own reflection and looking at Chris like he hadn't the faintest clue what he was talking about. As if.

"What the fuck do you think you were pulling in there? Isn't it a little late in the tour to be throwing in a diva act?"

JC held up his hands, like he didn't know what Chris was going to do. Like he was actually worried, or something, which just pissed Chris off more. As if JC didn't know exactly how to handle this, and was he making a *point* of acting like he was wary of Chris? Was it supposed to be sending some kind of message?

"We don't have all day, Jace, are you gonna quit this shit or not? We sent a lot of kids away disappointed because you decided to have some psychotic--"

"Whoa, hang on, I don't think you--"

"--breakdown in the middle of the meet and greet. And what the... did you go *change*? The hell?" It didn't even look like something JC would wear. Maybe Chris wasn't too far off with the whole psychotic break diagnosis.

"This isn't what it looks like--"

"What it looks like?" Chris interrupted him. He wouldn't play this game, and JC didn't get to be the innocent this time. "I don't even know what it looks like. It looks like a complete mystery to me." It looked like JC had fled the meet and greet for no reason, gone back to the quiet room, changed his clothes, come *back*, and was hanging out in the bathroom.

In clothes that Chris had never seen him in, but were obviously well worn. In jewelry that Chris had never seen. With a new hairstyle. With a new hair *color*. *Without his pendant.* And looking at Chris like he didn't have the first clue what he was talking about.

"Fuck me," he said, staring. "You're not JC."

The guy, this strange not-JC, looked immediately relieved. "That's what I was trying to tell you."

"Well," said Chris, staring some more, moving his head from side to side as though he could figure it out himself. "Who the hell are you, then?"