Randall is rather quiet and withdrawn.

Stepping through the door had to be about the most surreal thing you had ever experienced. The image of your Auntie sitting upright in the bed, eyes open, mouth breathing, causing you for just the briefest of moments to forget that she was actually dead. It was only when she turned her head to face you, and quietly uttered, "Hey, dude", that you remembered who this really was.

This was Randall. This woman in front of you right now, that had watched you grow, that had babysat you when you were younger and bought you cool expensive gifts for your birthdays... She was now Randall.

You froze. Letting his greeting hang in the air while you just stood there with your mouth agape. Every single inch of your body now screaming that this couldn't be true. That this had to be your Aunt Joan. It just had to!

Everything about him looked and sounded just like she had. So much so that if it hadn't been for the doctors filling you in on what had actually happened, you would have sworn blind that the woman in front of you was indeed her. Even Randall's use of the word "dude" (which wasn't really in your Aunt Joan's vernacular) didn't seem that out of place... or at least not enough that you wouldn't have believed it was her saying it.

"Guess this must be pretty freaky for you," Randall said, after you failed to respond, looking incredibly uncomfortable as his now bright blue eyes fell to the floor, as if avoiding your overly intense gaze. "...seeing me like this."

Pulling yourself then from your daze, you attempted to apologize. "No. No, I'm sorry," you nervously replied, trying to keep it together as best you could and remember that was your best friend in there. "I... I didn't mean to stare like that."

"Don't worry about it. I'm getting used to it now. You should have seen the way my step-mom looked at me - like I was some sort of monster or something."

"No uh, no change there then, huh?" you tried to joke. Your nerves getting the better of you.

Unlike his usual response, when you cracked a bad joke, Randall made no attempt to even smile. Your Auntie's soft and pretty face looking more forlorn than you'd ever seen before. He clearly wasn't taking any of this well.

"Yeah... Listen, I'm really sorry about your Auntie, dude. She was a cool lady."

Similarly, you were having troubles of your own. As hard as you were trying to block out any and all thoughts of your Aunt or her ****, with Randall sitting there inside her body, sharing his sympathies with you... well, it was just too much, and you could feel yourself crack. "Yeah. Yeah she was..." you croaked, trying not to well up in front of him. Your voice trembling as you this time had to look away.

Wiping away a tear, glad for the moment that he had yet to lift his gaze, Randall then continued, "And I'm sorry that I ended up... you know, like this. You must really hate me right now."

"No. Of course I don't. What happened, it's... it's not your fault," you told him, not quite believing that he was actually blaming himself. All of this had happened without his say so. If anyone was to blame it was the doctors for saving his life! "They did what they had to keep you alive, and..." Echoing then, your mother's own words, "I'm pretty sure it's what my Auntie would have wanted."

"I dunno," Randall replied, clearly not so sure. "This is pretty fucked up."

He was right of course, it was. But still, you hadn't ever seen your friend quite like this before (minus the whole being inside your Auntie's body thing), so despondent and withdrawn. The Randall you knew was always more of a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Always making jokes or pulling pranks. There barely ever being a serious word that came out of his mouth. Not that you could really blame him for acting this way of course. His entire life had just been turned upside down in the most dramatic way possible. How else was he supposed to respond?

You had to try and stay positive though, for his sake. No matter how uneasy you actually felt...

"How are you coping with it all? The doctors said you were doing good."

Letting out a little snort of laughter at this, he quietly murmured, "Yeah, I'll bet", before finally lifting his head to look at you again.

Once again you were caught off guard. Those eyes, that mouth, those dark straight locks - it all just screamed 'Auntie Joan'. Would you ever be able to look at him and not see her? Would it even be possible?

"I dunno," he shrugged, trying to put on a brave face. "I'm okay, I guess. Considering. It's just... everything is so messed up, you know? One minute I'm coming back from a stupid football game, the next I'm like this. It's kind of a lot to take in. That and the fact that I'm supposed to pretend like I'm really your Auntie now. Which is royally fucked up!"

"Yeah, I heard. They say it's for the best though," you told him, reiterating what had been said to you countless times already. "You think you're gonna agree to it?"

While it was clear from the look on his face that he wanted to say "no", Randall let out a sigh and with a heavy heart replied, "It doesn't look like I have much of a choice. I mean, it's not like I can rock up to school looking like this now, can I?" No, you though, he certainly couldn't. A fully grown, 36 year old woman lumped into a classroom full of immature and horny 17-18 year olds - that was what you'd call a recipe for disaster. Even if there was some sort of work around for all of the legal issues and the press invasion, being as old as he was now (not to mention attractive), the unwanted attention he'd get from his fellow classmates would be relentless!

"I just wish there was another way," he continued, somberly. "One that wouldn't end up fucking up your lives as well as mine. You just lost your Auntie, and now I'm forcing you all to act like it never even happened. Pretend like I'm one of the family. It's just not right!"

This was admittedly an opinion that you yourself shared - feeling angry that your friend had been **** into such a position - but you didn't tell him this however. Instead trying to be as supportive and optimistic as you could. "It's not gonna be easy, sure, but... well, we'll do our best to help you, man. You're still my best friend. We'll get through this together."

"Yeah? I'm not so sure..."

It seemed as though it was going to take a lot more than this to convince him, and unfortunately, right now, you just didn't didn't have it in you. Even though you'd heeded both the doctor's and your mother's words about being strong for your friend, you still couldn't help but see your dead Auntie's face every time you looked his way. Nor could you ignore the pain and sadness that it brought. None of it was his fault of course, and you did want to help him and be there for him. It was just that right now you weren't exactly sure how.

It'll be alright. It'll just take a little time to get used to, that's all, you assured yourself as you continued on with this strange and rather awkward conversation.

There was very little to say however, neither of you able to quite put your feelings into words. And so, for the next ten to fifteen minutes, you instead chatted about the state of the hospital food, how Tabitha and David were doing, as well as what the Doctor had said about you being able to go home soon. Apparently they had said the same thing to Randall as well, thought he looked a lot less happy about the prospect.

That was something that still needed to be discussed though - where was home for him now? Would he now have to live at your Auntie's apartment across town, or would he still stay at home with his parents? You got the impression from what little he mentioned about their visit that they hadn't really taken things so well (Alice especially), so perhaps that option was out of the question.

You didn't want to push him though, not so soon. And in face, you were beginning to feel increasingly more uncomfortable in his presence, as the pauses between sentences grew longer, and Randall's answers became fewer and far between.

So figuring then that he needed some space (just as you did), you told him then that you'd better get back to your parents, but you'd come visit him again real soon.

Forcing a smile, Randall replied. "Sure thing, dude.", and with that you walked back out the door, where you found Doctor Saunders still waiting.

"How did it go?" he asked, as you trundled out and gave a heavy sigh.

You weren't exactly sure what to tell him. Figuring that it didn't exactly go great. The two of you hadn't exactly been laughing and joking around in there like you always did. Sharing stories about which nurse you'd seen was the hottest, or who out of the two doctors was most likely to be gay. Nothing like that... But then again, you'd never been in a situation like this one before. So there really was no point of reference for how well things could have gone.

In the end though, you simply shrugged and told him, "Okay. I guess."

Assuring you that it will get easier given time, Saunders then escorted you back to your own hospital room, where you gave a similar report on your visit to your family. Your mother being the eagerest of all to find out what exactly had happened, and when she could see him herself.