Who's Who?

ACT Four ''Well,�� said Patrick, �� There�s no point in heading for your place. They'll have men posted there.'' Emma nodded. ''It's the doctor we want. If he's got the machine our other halves will head for him sooner or later.'' Patrick stared at her intently. ''Unless they favor the present arrangement.'' Emma nodded and then suddenly her eyes widened as the full impact sank in. ''Unless they what?'' Patrick smiled wanly. �'Well, think of the advantages.�� Emma didn�t have to think long. ''Then they'll destroy the machine as soon as possible!'' And I�ll be trapped in Freddie Jones� body for the rest of my life? Patrick pounded a fist into the palm of his hand. ''We've got to find Krelmar. And quickly.'' ''I doubt if he's in the phone book�� Emma pointed out in her charming way. Patrick settled down to restart the Bentley. ��We�d better find out.�� Suddenly, before he could move, a blazing ball of pain suddenly exploded in his forehead. He clutched at his head with both hands, trying to keep it from exploding into fragments. ''What's wrong?�� Emma demanded. Patrick could barely speak. ''I don't know. Headache. Feels like migraine.'' ��That's not like you.�� Patrick squeezed his hands together and somehow molded his skull back into his proper shape. The sharp pain faded into dullness as he glanced up at her. ''I don't happen to be me, remember?�� Wasn�t there - he�d put some pills in his pocket, in what seemed like an eternity ago. He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a vial of pills. How stupid! How stupid of him to have forgotten this. ''Dr. V. Krelmar.'' he read aloud. Emma snatched it out of his hand. ''The Manor House, Hambledon.'' Quickly she opened the bottle and gave him one of the pills, which he swallowed without benefit of water. As he drove toward Hambledon, Patrick thought furiously. Something was happening. He was beginning to lose his grip on the script, and starting to say the lines from his subconscious or something. He was starting to forget what was supposed to be happening. That couldn�t be right. Was he being subsumed into this role now...losing not only his memory but his very consciousness, his soul? The palms of his hands were cold and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Emma, noticing this, brought out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He directed a thankful smile at her. What was going to next. Think, Patrick, think! They�d get to the Manor House, they�d walk in, the machine would be there. And then they�d see Diana....no....Emma Peel�s body drive up in a car and get out and she would run into the building...yes, yes, that was it. Foolish of him to be so frightened - that sudden attack of migraine had just driven the lines out of his head for a few minutes. That was all. They walked into the building, cautiously. No sign of Dr. Krelmar or the two men who had dismantled the machine. They walked into a very sophisticatedly set up room, with lots of equipment around the sides of it, and the transmigration machine in pride of place. ''There it is,�� commented Emma. ''All in one piece,'' Patrick said, relieved. He stared at the machine in awe. The machine on the set at Pineview had been makeshift, a prop, with colored lights and all that, but somehow this machine seemed solider, more real, more capable of actually ripping open someone�s head sonically and taking out their souls. How's it work?'' ''How indeed.'' said Patrick, coldly. He�d been unconscious when the thing had been used on him, after all. How did she expect him to know that? The sound of a car engine caused them both to turn their heads and they scurried to a far window and peered out. Patrick�s heart lurched as he saw the woman whom he knew as Diana Rigg, dressed in the �Emmapeeler� catsuit that she was making so famous, jump out of a car and come running toward the building. God she was beautiful. But evil inside, unless he could do something about it. ''How nice to see you,'' Patrick murmured to the woman in Patricia�s body. ''Wonder what I'm doing here,�� Emma said with a touch of humor. Patrick matched her. ''Whatever the reasons, you're very obliging.'' Patrick followed behind Emma as she headed for the door to the room. This was her business now. Emma opened the door fully and they stood behind it. The lethal Lola walked in all unsuspecting. Emma pushed the door to and brought a karate chop down on the neck of her unsuspecting body snatcher with a certain elan. Patrick stared down at Diana�s unmoving body. But there was no time to try to think things through. ''Time you were yourself again.'' he commented. Emma and he lifted her body and placed her in the chair. Patrick took her face gently between his hands and held it steady while Emma lowered the visor. Than Emma got into the other chair, and lowered her visor. Patrick stood staring at the machine. Switches, switches. Well, they were all flicked down. He flicked them all up. A powerful humming noise came from the machine and lights began to skitter from one side to the other, but he had no earthly idea how to proceed. ''Well?'' Emma demanded anxiously. Patrick felt like sinking his hands into his hair and pulling that hair out by the roots. He couldn�t think. "I'll check next door and see if there's some instructions,'' he told her. This was it, he said to himself as he forced himself to enter the next room and walk straight to the desk there. He knew that Dr. Krelmar was in the room, he knew that Krelmar was going to knock him out with the butt of a gun. Please god he wouldn�t hit too hard - his head had already taken enough knocks as it was. So intent was Patrick in looking at the papers on the desk and waiting for the blow that he didn�t even feel it when it came. How long was he out before he regained consciousness? No way of knowing. It was entirely unfair. He felt like he had the mother of all hangovers and yet he hadn�t even had a drink in what seemed like an eternity. Why was he lying on the floor in this room? Patrick got up very, very slowly. He brought the bottle of pills out of his pocket and with reckless abandon took three of them. Then he very slowly entered the room with the machine. Emma Peel...it had to be the real Emma Peel, stood before him. She was smiling with Diana�s incandescent smile and she was poised and confident and beautiful as he gazed at her. "It's all right, it's me.�� she told him, as if speaking to a spooked horse. ��I got Krelmar to switch me back.�� ��Oh, yes?�� Patrick said. He inched forward. He didn�t want to have to play this scene. But he had to. If his life depended on him playing all the scenes in this script, than play them he must. ��Oh now look, Steed, it's really me.�� Emma Peel told him, holding out her hands placatingly. Was he really moving forward that menacingly? ��No, Steed, don't force me to...�� ''Force you to what?'' he asked, and brought up his hand in a karate chop. She blocked it effortlessly, and he felt the smooth power of her muscles as she twisted his arm up behind him. ''And if you want further proof....�� she said, and then she bent down to whisper in his ear....oh god, what was wrong with his ears. He couldn�t hear what she was saying! But she released him and he straightened up and said, Oh, Mrs. Peel,�� just as he�d seen Freddie rehearse it one day. She grinned at him impishly. ''Well, at least I'm back to normal.'' Patrick stared at her. ��Yes, but what about me?�� She shook her head sorrowfully. Well, at least she didn�t find Freddie Jones attractive either! Patrick licked his lips. ��You�re going to have to bring ...me...here.�� Emma nodded. Patrick reached for her arm as she started to turn away, and she looked into his eyes. Did he see his...Patrick�s....eyes staring out at her from this face? ��Be careful, Mrs. Peel,�� Patrick said. She grinned at him, and that grin filled him with confidence. She could handle it. While he was waiting for her to return, Patrick scouted around. He found where she�d stashed the unconscious, trussed up form of Dr. Krelmar. He found a stash of liquor and he treated himself to a much needed tot. Then he checked his watch. Soon, now, Tulip would be rolling up in his car, and he had a scene to play for Tulip. What was it? Oh, yes. Patrick glanced over at the still form of Lola...the real Lola, small and still and safely strapped to her chair. He approached her and lifted up the visor. She was beginning to regain consciousness. She blinked up at him, and he smiled at her. ''How's it feel to be back home?'' Lola stared at him incredulously, as she realized that she was not looking at Basil but Steed - or who should have been Steed, in Basil�s body. Her face convulsed in fury and she pulled desperately at the restraining straps. ''Don�t hurt yourself, my dear.�� Patrick told her, with a certain sense of self-satisfaction. ��I must say I don�t care for that platinum blonde look of yours. Not to my taste. Nor is your perfume..'' Lola�s foot lashed out and caught him just below the groin. Patrick bounced away, swearing, and came to rest with both hands on the wheeled divan. ''That hurt him more than it did me.'' he told her viciously. At that precise second Tulip slammed open the door and bustled through the doorway, waving his gun. Patrick ducked down behind the divan and shoved it forward desperately. He caught Tulip unawares, and by spinning the divan forced the other man to run headfirst into a wall, where he stopped, turned, and sank down in a heap back on the divan. Hah! Hah! He�d knocked out a dangerous adversary without half trying! Who needed a stuntman then, eh? "Does that solve your problem?'' he asked the unconscious form of Tulip. He heard the sound of Emma�s car and quickly rolled the unconscious form of Tulip out of sight. Then he followed Emma�s example and hid behind the door that led into the machine room. But he left the door only slightly ajar. He could hear voices from the next room....Diana�s and ...his, saying something. Then, all of a sudden, the door smashed open and hit him in the nose. He slammed it shut and grabbed at his nose as he saw Diana trading karate chops with the bad Basil. ''Look out for that machine!'' he called suddenly as their bodies went careening toward it. He�d have to help her, but how. Patrick danced around them, seeking an opening, when suddenly Basil turned towards him with a swinging fist. ��Look out Basil!�� came Lola�s voice. Patrick�s view was entirely taken up by the viciously drawn back lips and teeth of his adversary, so he didn�t see Mrs. Peel turn and spin the visor around to hide Lola�s face. A fist caught him in the belly, another glanced off his chin as he desperately tried to fight back. Why was Mrs. Peel just strolling around the sidelines, watching them? Couldn�t she that this lunatic was bent on killing him? Finally Mrs. Peel took a hand. Or rather, arm. As Basil brought back his right arm to punch him once more, Emma grabbed it and held it. ��Thank you,�� Patrick told her, and swung as hard as he could. The pain he felt in his knuckles was as nothing compared to the pain he felt at looking down at his unconscious body. The sound of yet another car engine smote their ears - they both knew who it must be. Patrick locked the door and they dragged his body over and up into the machine. Then Patrick went over, released Lola from the visor, and lifted her out of the chair and onto his shoulder. ��Can you work it?�� he asked Emma Peel as she started flicking switches with an air of authority. ��I think so.�� she told him. Patrick smiled at her. The rush of affection he felt at that moment for her - for the real Emma Peel, was almost unbearable. Of course she could. When Krelmar had switched her back she�d probably watching every move, and of course she�d only have to see it once. Patrick dumped Lola�s body unceremoniously on top of Krelmar�s, then returned and sat down in his chair. Emma strapped him in, and lowered the visor. "Right. Start counting... now.�� Patrick started counting. This was it. This was it. He�d end up in his own body now, and he�d end up with Mrs. Peel, and even if he was trapped in this bizarre world he would be...safe. ��One, two, three, four...�� as he counted he began to feel heat on the top of his head, a sudden, vacuumy feeling inside his brain as if his entire soul were being sucked out of him....and then he heard himself saying ��Nine, ten, eleven,�� an he opened his eyes. Diana Rigg was standing in front of him, an expression of concern on her face. Above her were the blazing hot klieg lights, behind her he saw the extras in their white trench coats and beyond them he saw the cameras and the klieg lights and the director. He was back. He was back in the real world. ��Got to finish the scene,�� Patrick told himself, as he stood up, turned, and lifted the red and blue dice off the machine and tossed them up and down playfully. Diana followed him, playing up to the thought that something had gone wrong. ��Steed, Mrs. Peel. Not too late?�� demanded Major B. ��Almost too early.�� Patrick said, and grinned at Diana. And she grinned back. ��Cut, print.�� yelled the director. Patrick was on auto pilot as they finished the scene. Campbell Singer as Major B said, ��Cunning pair, these two. Tried to pretend they were you.�� And he and Diana exchanged glances and then turned back to him, saying, ��Us.�� and once again the director said, ��Cut, print.�� ��Alright, everybody,�� he said seconds later. ��That�s enough for today. See you all for final shots tomorrow.�� Patrick and Diana winked at Freddie and Patricia and walked off the set. When they were alone in the hallway leading to their dressing rooms Diana turned to him. ��Patrick, today was wonderful.�� Patrick blinked at her. ��Those kisses we had...they almost made me wish I wasn�t a happily married woman.�� And then she put a finger on his lips, and hurried on into her own dressing room. Patrick gaped after her. Had they shot all of his kissing scenes today? How had they shot all of his kissing scenes today - when he hadn�t been there to do any kissing???? Who had been there - in his body, to do the kissing? Patrick staggered into his dressing room, flopped into his chair, pinched the bridge of his nose and uttered a soft moan. All that kissing...and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. A splitting headache without benefit of booze. All the kissing that had been going on all day long on both sides of...wherever...and he'd been involved in nonr of it. There was a hell...this was it. Patrick sighed, reached into the drawer and took out his bottle of scotch. He took a swig straight out of the bottle. After all, he deserved it.

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