Path of the Vampire forum

[PETER] Vamprism was a lesson in the unexpected.

Unexpectedly, fadebeasts could pop up out of nowhere. Unexpectedly, one might be unable to walk over running water anymore without inciting excruciating pain. Unexpectedly, one’s shadow detaches and has a mind of its own. Unexpectedly, one’s girlfriend gets turned into a vampire by someone in one’s own bloodline. Vampirism was not an experiment for the weak of heart and Peter, though not specifically weak, struggled quite a lot. He only wished that the Universe could give him some kind of warning before these things happened. A head’s up. Perhaps being a vampire was a warning in and of itself: Beware: random **** might occur on any given night, depending on mood.

The night started out ordinarily enough.Once again, Peter woke up. Waking up was something that could not be helped. He got out of bed and he showered, as was his habit. He brushed his teeth, he brushed his hair. He dressed in clothes that could have been fit for public, but which would not be seen by the public.

Peter had not left the cabin in months.

Jersey had tried, of course. There’d been a wedding that she’d wanted a date for and Peter and said no. It wasn’t a pretty scene, and he expected that one of these nights his wife would ask for an annulment. Or a divorce. She can’t have bargained on marrying a complete recluse -- an agoraphobe who’d suddenly realised he just did not want to risk the outdoors ever again.

And yet, he was an agoraphobe who had his own businesses. They could be run from the cabin; important documents could be signed and scanned and sent electronically. Deliveries were made to the front door, and they were the only faces Peter saw. The only physical business he had was the animal rescue, and he had a good manager who took care of things while the boss was away.

The phone call Peter received was not a welcome one. Lance’s mother had died. Lance was the manager. Lance wanted some time off. There was no one there to close up; there’d been a call about a sack of kittens and they were waiting to be welcomed and processed. There was no one there who knew how to do it. They needed Peter to come in. They needed him as soon as possible.

That had been an hour ago. Paws and Whiskers had been completely forgotten about while Peter hid beneath his desk in the confines of his office, the door to which was locked. There was a stranger in his kitchen. A stranger wearing his face. A stranger who appeared out of nowhere, one who looked exactly like Peter. A stranger who’d knocked on the office door and called out with Peter’s voice. Yes, Peter had only just been thinking it would be a miracle if he had another self, another body that could go to the shelter in his place.

But the reality of it was downright terrifying. I must be dreaming, he thought, and closed his eyes tight as he counted to a million in his head.


<JERSEY> If asked, Jersey wouldn't say that she had been angry when Peter’s mind got the best of him. It pissed her off, but it was the life she had chosen the moment she'd married him. And despite his issues, she still loved him, but it didn't mean she failed to get upset or be disappointed. Clover’s wedding had been important to her. She had wanted the love of her life at her best friend’s wedding with her, but it hadn't happened.

Peter, of course, had apologized, too, but she wasn't thrilled when she had gotten home. She'd not replied to him as she changed out of her dress into her pajamas, as she had removed her make up. To make sure he didn't think she hated him, however, she'd crawled into bed with him to hold tight. On the days where his agoraphobia had developed, getting worse, she stopped trying to drag him out. Occasionally, as she'd stood there with her arms across her chest, Jersey contemplating on physically picking up her husband. She might've been on the small side, but vampiric strength did wonders.

That debate had been given up often.

She didn't want to risk him staying literally in the dog house again.

That evening, she had gotten up alongside her husband. Her green eyes had watched the way the muscles beneath his skin moved and she reminded herself how much she loved him. Again, Jersey asked if he wanted to join her for the dogs morning walk - the word was chosen pointedly. She knew it wasn't morning, but it was morning for her. After the blood had been finished off, the dogs walked, she kissed him and without another word, left the cabin. One would imagine it could be a considerably lonely life, but she was fine. Or at least, that was what she told herself.

Once her errands were ran, the guns she made sold, Jersey returned back to the cabin. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she let it down for the night and set her bag down. “Peter, baby, I’m back.” Her shoes were removed quickly, followed by her jacket. She hated wearing a lot when home, padding barefoot as soon as her socks were off and she tucked them into her boots. When one of her cats moved closer, she leaned down to scratch the furry animal behind the ear. “Hi to you, too, sweet girl.”

She pulled her shirt off, adjusting the strap of her bra underneath as she went into the laundry room after. A frown crossed her lips, Jersey calling out, “Peter, have you seen my tank top? The paint covered one?” Art had become one of her favorite things, mostly because she could pointedly make a mess when she wanted, needed to, vent.


[PETER] Peter had no idea what the doppelganger was doing. He could hear his own voice cooing at the dogs and pottering around the kitchen. It was eerie. It was surreal. But what wasn’t surreal about being a vampire? There were levels of it. This ranked quite high. Peter was tempted to pull out a notebook and pen to list every surreal thing that had ever happened to him and then rank them. It was a very Peter thing to do.

Except his plans were thwarted when he heard Jersey come home. Her voice was accompanied by the scurrying of claws on hardwood as all the dogs raced to greet her and also by Peter’s head as it hit the underside of his desk. She might not have heard that, nor the curse that followed suit. He heard her footsteps as she made her way through the cabin -- he heard another pair of footsteps following. He heard her call out about a tank top and he heard himself answering.

“I think you should paint without it,” he heard himself say, the voice muffled through the walls. In the office, Peter’s jaw dropped. In the laundry room, a Peter who looked just like the Peter in the office -- right down to the clothes on his back -- leaned nonchalantly against the door. At this point, Peter clambered out from his hiding place, his heart in his throat. This was Jersey. His wife. He couldn’t leave her alone with this… thing!

The door of the office was wrenched open and Peter, so determined to get to the laundry room, did not look down. He should have looked down. In this house, one must always look down. Jack got between his feet and Peter fell, like a log lopped in a forest. There was a single bark that could have come from one of the dogs which was promptly cut off by a head hitting the opposite wall. In just the right place. And Peter was out cold.

In the laundry room, not-Peter cleared his throat and put a hand up against the door jam, basically blocking Jersey’s way out. “... I can imagine it, watching you paint naked…”


<JERSEY> There was a thud that had Jersey’s green eyes moving towards the general area; the first thought in her mind was that one of her cats had knocked something over - they didn’t have any holiday pieces to chase any more much to her amusement. Lately any ball-looking object would do. Where had she put that shirt? She’d done laundry yesterday, her laundry to be exact as she knew her husband had his own routine and she did some of hers out of sync just so it wasn’t an everyday thing.

Jersey didn’t think it was in the bedroom, though. She hadn’t painted yesterday or brought it in there. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she bent over to check the sides of the washer. Maybe it had slipped. Peter’s words, however, had her looking over her shoulder at the man. “While I do like that suggestion, you’d probably end up with your shirt stained when I decide it's Jersey time later.” The woman commented, eyeing him despite the soft smile that adorned her lips.

She heard the door open, that soft creak that she’d been meaning to fix of Peter’s office and her green eyes went from the man in the doorway with a frown playing across her lips. Was Lucas there? She didn’t think so. But, it was the thud and Peter’s lack of response that had Jersey alert, concerned even. “Honey, did you hear that?” She stepped forward, “Hunter? Bear?” She called. The two dogs were the largest, capable of making that noise. Bear must’ve weighed about the size of a child alone.

There was a brief flash of brown and black near his long legs, a bark from Hunter and lack of crying from either dog that had her curious. Her green eyes lifted to his face as she noticed the lack of panic. “It is a very me thing to do.” She said as she adjusted to set her body against the washer, looking to see if she could ease past Peter.


[PETER] In the hallway, the passed out Peter was being ferociously licked by a contrary Jack, the little dog’s tail wagging at a pace too fast for the human eye to follow. The little guy was feeling a little guilty, it might seem, for causing his master to trip. His little ears swivelled at the sound of Jersey’s voice -- but his was not the name she called. It was always one of the big dogs that got in trouble. Little Jack sometimes took advantage of their obvious clumsiness.

The two big dogs, upon hearing their names, came running. With a grace that defied their size they rounded corners without knocking anything over. They reached the laundry and, rather than try to push their way past not-Peter they remained on the other side, heads bowed and wary, noses twitching as they were still uncertain about this stranger wearing Peter’s face. He’d been trying to win them over before Jersey arrived and, being that they were all tame and rather timid dogs they did not attack the man who’d done nothing to harm them and who sounded so much like the one they were accustomed to. But there was something about his smell, and they still weren’t sure.

Not-Peter wasn’t aware of the dogs and their usual boisterous behaviour and he merely arched a brow at them before turning back to Jersey, tongue darting to lick his lips. Honestly, he’d been waiting for the proper Peter to come charging into the room. Given that nothing had happened, he went on as if nothing were wrong.

“Or we can have Jersey time now. And then no one has to get dirty. Well, not that kind of dirty…” he said with a slow grin.


<JERSEY> It was noted when Bear and Hunter didn't push past him. Normally, Bear came immediately because he enjoyed being scratched behind his ears and Hunter? She’d always been able to depend on his large size to accidentally knock her over in greeting if she wasn't careful. She ignored Peter and looked past his legs, clearly worried. They were acting off.

Even Lady and KC, Ellie and Jack didn't come running. As Peter spoke, she lifted her gaze to his features. Instead of moving to follow suit with his suggestion, instead of grinning and slipping her arms around his broad shoulders, Jersey stepped back. Her hand moved to grab one of her other shirts and pulled it on over her head. She didn't care that it was backward, but Peter was off. “Did they hurt you again?” She asked, although even without his permission the telepath flicked through his mind and frowned when she found nothing.

“Did you snap again?” It was in that confined space, however, that she noticed something was more off than his personality. He smelled different. It wasn't strong, or even something that bothered her too much, but it was there. A subtle change that had her calling out, “Peter?” behind the man standing in front of her despite the fact her green eyes were trained on the man in front of her. Jersey wondered briefly if it was part of her damaged mind playing a trick with her. That it was still repairing itself from the bus accident that had claimed her memory.

She knew he was her husband, but everything about the way he was carrying himself was wrong. Jersey almost expected to see him strip naked and saunter away as he did when he was soaked in blood.


[PETER] There was a groan in the hallway. A vampire could not stay unconscious for long. The concussion barely lasted as all the synapses healed themselves, the bruising -- what little there was -- clearing up. Or maybe it was Jersey’s voice, calling his name, that lifted him out of his fog. Long fingers reached up to slip into Jack’s fur -- Jack, who yipped excitedly. Where Jack was, Ellie wasn’t too far behind and soon, Peter -- strewn on the floor -- was being accosted by both dogs trying to lick him to death. This always happened when someone whose company they liked was brought down to their level.

While this was happening, not-Peter could feel his leverage slipping. The corners of his lips slipped downward and he shrugged his shoulders. What was he hoping to achieve? Regardless of how different this copy was to Peter, it had at least inherited basic goodness. It wasn’t out to kill anyone to get its way -- though it would have been willing to kill, if strictly required. But it had a special kind of loyalty to the man he’d sprung from, an instinctive need to obey. Though that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stubborn and rebellious -- a couple more traits the real Peter had wished he had on a few occasions.

“No one hurt me. I didn’t snap. I haven’t left the house. Hey, it’s me,” he said, making the mistake of lifting his arm, holding it out as if to surrender to Jersey. He didn’t, like Peter would have, insist that she take her shirt off only to put it back on the right way around. He did leave a small space through which Jersey could slip, should she so wish.

In the hallway, Peter was slowly pushing himself to his feet, much to Jack and Ellie’s dismay.

“Jersey --” he called, voice quiet and cracked to begin with. He cleared it.

“Jersey, he’s not me!” he called, stumbling down the hallway as he regained his balance, afraid to discover what kind of scene he might stumble into.


<JERSEY> Despite the attempt of reassurance that it was Peter, Jersey gave a shake of her head. She didn't have to try telepathically to find out, she could tell. “You are to an extent, but you gave yourself away.” The woman said as she stayed back. She heard the groan and her concern showed clear in her eyes before she closed them. She focused and… ah, the sound of his groan had her relaxing, but her green eyes reopened to show slight anger. Who the hell was this man and why was he in her house?

Reaching for her was something Peter would do, it was an action that had her heart twisting in confusion. It also made her wish she had one of her guns… but she knew she'd never be able to point one even at a man who looked like her husband. Losing Peter was something she didn't think she could ever do. Not again. The second she heard Peter call out to her, she moved quickly so that she could take advantage of the opening in the door. She was sure to hipcheck the individual so he’d have to stumble before he would be able to grab her. Jersey stepped over Bear, gracefully avoided stepping on Hunter - she glanced down at her feet briefly to avoid Lady as she neared her.

Once she spotted the real Peter, once she could smell him, did she turn to face the not-Peter and asked, “What the hell are you doing in my house?” At least in the hall, she could bolt if needed. She didn't, however, feel threatened in the least so once her husband neared her, the blonde relaxed. “And who are you?”


[PETER] Real Peter had his hands on Jersey’s shoulders as soon as she was near. At first she shielded him, until he swallowed down his own fear and surged forward, stood in front of her. Peter also swallowed down his relief. This other version of himself was more confident, more suave. It was the kind of man he thought Jersey probably wished she’d married and he half feared he’d stumble into the bedroom to find them in flagrante.

He now realised that he should give Jersey more credit. Her current anger was only testament to his faith in her. They could both stand there and watch as not-Peter pushed his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands into his pockets; it was the exact same way Peter got when feeling shy or sheepish. The smile on his face looked genuinely remorseful.

“I am him,” he said, pointing to Peter -- Peter, who immediately started shaking his head.

“No, no you’re not. You’re not me. I am me. There is only one of me and you are not,” he said, near panic. His hand slipped down Jersey’s arm, his fingers tangling with his hers, his grip tight. Not-Peter was unphased and merely shrugged, defeated.

“I came into existence about an hour ago. I have all your memories. I know what you want. I know what you hate. I know what you fear. I wasn’t here and now I am. Didn’t you wish you could be in two places at once?” he asked. He was being reasonable. Peter didn’t like it. All he could manage was a stammer and a shake of his head. It was too much to handle.

<JERSEY> To say that it wasn't a little overwhelming would be a lie. Jersey didn't know what to think as she stood in front of her Peter and looked at the intruder. To anyone that didn't know him, it would've been easy to fool. But Jersey knew her husband, she knew him better than she did herself on some days and she knew his quirks inside and out.

He said himself he hadn't left the house, but it was as if he actually would leave the house. Jersey had all but physically dragged her agoraphobic husband to the door, trying to make him get fresh air for a spell. Last week she had actually contemplated on removing the front door for several hours, even, just to have a change of sight for him. There was a word there, on the tip of her tongue that she knew, but could not remember for the life of her as she stood there and saw the Peteresque movement. As she saw that same smile that she loved to see on her husband’s handsome face.

She gripped his hand reassuringly. Jersey adjusted, her freehand moving to grip his upper arm as she held his arm to her chest. “It's got to be a vampire thing.” The blonde murmured under her breath at Peter. Neither of them used their powers much, but between the two of them, didn't Peter use them less? Even as she stood there, her mind reached out to the internet. She searched cloning occurrences and Jersey frowned as she pressed her lips to the man’s upper arm. What it that she was trying to think of? And then it hit her. “You’re his doppelgänger? You have everything that's his, but you're different. Even down to your scent.”

Jersey looked up at Peter, her eyebrows furrowed. “You’ve thought that, baby?”


[PETER] Not-Peter arched a brow, keeping his mouth shut as the question was asked of Peter. It was up to Peter now to answer the question and to either confirm or deny everything. Not-Peter wasn’t phased. If he was tossed out of the house he could live perfectly well; he could take Peter’s identity. It would be simple. Wouldn’t it? Could just wander into one of those businesses and take some money.

“No. Yes. N-- I…” he stuttered, unable to take his eyes off the other Peter. The resemblance was uncanny. He hadn’t given himself the time before to really take in the details. It was ridiculously unsettling. He sighed, trying to push the panic to edges of his psyche, comforted and relaxed by Jersey’s presence at his side.

“Earlier, I… the rescue called. Lance is away. They ah… there were some kittens dropped off and no one knew what to do with them. They needed me to go and I… I panicked. I couldn’t. I…” he shook his head. He could admit to it all, could let it all out. How inadequate he felt, how he wished he could be a different person. It all got stuck in his throat and, rather than cough it up he instead gagged, like he wanted to throw up. He swallowed it back.

“And this this happened. He happened,” he said, eyes wide as he finally tore his gaze from the other man and turned to Jersey. “I’m sorry. I should have called you. I should have warned you. What did you try to do?!” he asked, turning to not-Peter. Not-Peter almost looked like he wasn’t going to answer, as if he were going to evade the question. But then he just laughed.

“I tried to do what you don’t, Peter. I am the manifestation of all you fail to be,” he said. It was like a nightmare. Peter flinched, face white. It would have enraged any other man. But, Peter, so averse to violence of all kinds, just stood there, frozen.


<JERSEY> The entire situation both confused and annoyed her. The not-Peter had wanted to sleep with her, and her real Peter was being skiddish. A sigh escaped past the woman as she listened to the two, resting her forehead against her husband’s arm. As she heard the mention of kittens and no one knowing what to do with them, Jersey reached into his pocket and collected his phone. It would be the first thing to deal with - she sent a text to Lucas asking him to bring them to the house after going to collect them.

Her thrall would be confused, but he would get the order and she would explain later. “Kittens are taken care of.” She said and put it back in his pocket. A frown shown on her lips as she lifted her head and stared at Peter, clearly disapproving. However, her hand rubbed against his arm to show that she still was there for him. That she was listening, even if she wasn't happy with him. She understood why he did things even if she didn't quite understand the logic behind it; that would never change. Peter was Peter. And he was hers.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “It's alright. He isn't you, Peter. I knew it before you even called out to me.” The woman stepped back, however, as she let go of his arm. She narrowed her eyes at the not-Peter, “First of all,” The anger in her voice was clear as day, “Do not. He is an amazing husband, and while he might piss me off on occasion, he has never failed to do anything when it comes to making me happy.” She poked the not-Peter in the chest. “The only thing you have proved to do is try to manipulate a situation and take advantage of his appearance by trying to get into my pants.”

And with that, she turned on her heel to face Peter. “And you, you need to knock it off. I do not care that you feel that you're failing as a man and a husband, you aren't. Because now, we have him,” She pointed over her shoulder, “to deal with. I love you, Peter, and you know what, yes, your agoraphobia is irritating, and yes, you should have called me, but you aren't a failure. You're a successful business man with a wife who loves you dearly, which is something that men can't find often any more.”


[PETER] Jersey was right. Peter had a wife who loved him dearly, but he wasn’t sure he agreed that it was a hard thing to find. He might have argued the statistics, that it was most often men that wandered and not the women. He could have pointed out that he’d had a wife before who loved him dearly -- but he had sense enough to realise that would be putting his foot in his mouth. And nor did he particularly want to remember that time of his life now. Who knew? Given a few more years perhaps Lily would have taken herself and their child to live somewhere alone, away from the crazy husband. Maybe she’d have jumped on the same bandwagon as his parents and tried to coerce him to take his medication.

Jersey couldn’t do that. Not really. The medication wouldn’t work.

Peter might have paled at not-Peter’s accusation, but that’s why he was here. Peter knew it, deep down. He couldn’t be angry. Not-Peter was the manifestation of all Peter failed to be because that’s exactly what Peter had been thinking when not-Peter had sprung to life. Even Jersey’s reassurances couldn’t completely heal the rift that existed within Peter. He hadn’t left the house in how long? If he really thought about it, there’d be a number in his head. Of course he’d have known exactly how many days it had been since he’d left the cabin. Those were the kinds of things that Peter knew.

“Deal with? I’m a bonus. Not being mean or anything, but think about it. Really…” not-Peter said, and Peter was ashamed to think about it, to imagine the possibilities. Could he trust this other self to step into Peter’s shoes? Jersey probably didn’t want to hear the relief, the fact that now Peter really could stay at home and never leave. People outside could think that he’d had a change of character -- or that he was finally on medication. And Peter could stay safe. He didn’t say it.

“It irritates you,” was all he said. “Which is enough. You might not care now, it might be small, you might get over it, you might forgive me now, but how long until enough is enough?” he asked, shaking his head. He should have tried to work through it with Jersey, and in that he had failed. He had failed, because now they had another him to deal with. The arguments were there, all lined up and ready to fire, but he didn’t fire them. He just crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to have this conversation with the copy nearby. But, now that he’d calmed, he was starting to come around to the idea.

“You,” he said to the copy. “You just stay away from her,” he said, arms dropping so one could slide around Jersey’s waist.


<JERSEY> “Don’t you encourage him.” She almost growled. The idea of Peter locking himself further away into the world was just another headache that she was on the verge of. She loved her husband and his quirks, but one of those days, she was going to cave and drag him out the door. She knew it. Lucas knew it. She suspected Peter might wonder, too, but he might worried it was a possibility. Her temper as Jersey Parkman was never hard to gauge, it took a lot to irritate her truthfully, but as Marilee Evans, it was another story. And she could only frown at the man as he spoke.

“Peter, we’ve been together how long, now?”

She questioned, ignoring the doppelganger as she tilted her head up to look at him. “And how often have we had this discussion?” It wasn’t rhetorical. She knew better to ask him something and not expect an answer. “And how often have I stubbornly responded the same.” The short blonde went up on the balls of her feet and she pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I do things that irritate you, and vice versa. It’s how things work.” She argued, “But we work through them. Always have, always will. I’m not leaving you again.” The words were said with finality, knowing the time without him had been awful, but trying to be just his friend… that had been worse.

“You’re not staying in the house even more than you do now.” Jersey said as she looked up at her husband. Her green eyes narrowed before she settled into his side. The feeling of his arm curling around her was comforting, a reminder that he was there. She’d been able to tell the difference. Her hand lifted to rest against his back, to trace her fingertips against his spine as she considered the idea of having two of them around. How it would confuse others if they ever saw the two men near each other. “I don’t like this.” She said directly into Peter’s mind, “And he is not staying here.”


[PETER] Peter opened his mouth to respond to the questions, rhetorical or not. The numbers lived in his head, updated every second of every night that passed. He could have given her exact answers but was not given the chance before she had moved on, before he was silenced both by the tenderness of the kiss on his jaw and the sharpness of the words issued from her lips.

“I have not left this property in three months, two weeks and five nights,” he said. Three months, two weeks and five night ago he’d gone to the animal rescue. Before that, there was yet another few months of ...well, not solitude, but it may as well have been about six months he’d not had anything to do with the world beyond Jersey and their pets. 

“It hasn’t been hard. I don’t think I can stay home any more than I do now…” he said, words trailing off. He didn’t say that he didn’t plan to stay home any less -- doppelganger or not. He shook his head. He didn’t like it either, but nor was he too keen on letting the doppelganger loose. So far he had proven himself to be the complete opposite of Peter. He could be reckless and endanger Peter’s name -- what little name he had. And Peter wasn’t too sure what control he had over the doppelganger. Still, Jersey’s wants and needs were a higher priority, and Peter would feel more comfortable with his likeness out of the house.

“She’s right, though. I think you should leave,” he said to the doppelganger, who just rolled his eyes.

“Where am I supposed to go?” not-Peter asked, glancing between the both of them. Peter glanced down at Jersey, and back to the doppelganger.

“There’s an apartment at West Towers,” he said, reluctantly peeling himself away from Jersey so that he could return to his office. He didn’t have to look long; Peter’s memory was a steel trap, he knew where everything was in this cabin, and if anything was out of place it was put back again. The key jangled against its keychain as he came back and thrust the key at not-Peter.

“You can stay there,” he said. Whether he was banishing the not-Peter for good or whether he’d somehow summon it back to talk, he did not yet know. Plans would be made as soon as the doppelganger left the house. Back at Jersey’s side, his hand sought hers, palm against palm and fingers tangled together. Soon, their peace would be restored to them.


<JERSEY> “You aren’t helping yourself, Peter.” She scowled softly before she shook her head. The woman couldn’t help but reach out mentally to the doppelganger, observing it as she stayed in the safety of her husband’s reach. It didn’t make any sense to her, and as she gave a puff of air, Jersey made the comment of “wherever the hell you came from” under her breath. She didn’t like the idea of two Peter’s running around. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him - but the fact he still did have the issue as Arthur Pembroke…

Peter left her and Jersey stared at the doppelganger. She wondered if she could search into its memories… how far would it go back? Would any of the memories be Peter’s? It had known who she was, hadn’t it?

“You’re going to give it the apartment?”

She asked, almost incredulous. But, she didn’t have a better idea. She supposed she could have Lucas go and keep an eye on the doppelganger. “Your for-lack-of-a-better-word ‘twin’ hit on me, what do you think he’ll do when he sees another pretty girl in the city?” As she said the words, she went to collect her phone, “Maybe we should have Lucas go. Keep an eye on him?”

Finding it, she returned to the spot she’d taken up and was glad when Peter returned. Her hand squeezed his affectionately. “I don’t know about this.”


[PETER] He was sending the doppelganger out of the house because Jersey had wanted it to leave, and now that it had the keys she questions Peter’s decision. Peter sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched as a frown cut deeply into his brow.

“What do you want me to do, Jersey? Do you want him to leave or do you want him to stay?” he asked. He was confused, and torn. He didn’t know what she wanted and he could think of nothing better. To set the doppelganger loose with nowhere to go would only inspire ire, wouldn’t it? Which would mean he was more likely to do something awful.

“You know I’m right here…” the doppelganger said. It was lingering, hanging around like he was hinged on whatever decision Peter made. Peter turned back to his mirror image, still shocked by its presence.

“You will behave,” he said, firmly. The doppelganger threw up its hands in surrender.

“Sure, yes. I will behave…” it said. Peter narrowed his eyes, wondering if that was that, if that was all, if, just because he had asked him too, not-Peter would, in fact, behave.


<JERSEY> Her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted him to leave, but she didn’t want him to cause trouble for her husband. “Leave. At least until we know how we feel.” She said, ultimately. It was really the cause of a headache, she thought, as she lifted her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Lucas can meet him there. He’s got to bring the kittens here, anyhow.”

The words were said as if she hadn’t made her mind, anyway. Her thrall would be lingering nearby, both to help or hinder the doppelganger if needed. The entire thing baffled her. The woman settling back into Peter’s side as she considered it all. However, if it did this to her, she didn’t want to think about how much it unnerved Peter.

Her hand moved to his forearm, rubbing it both to comfort herself and reassure him that it would be alright. “I need to take the dogs out.” It wasn’t said to get away from Peter, however. It was so that she could think, and as she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw as she always did, she cast a glare towards the doppelganger that clearly shown he wasn’t forgiven before walking away.

It didn’t surprise her when the click of paws followed her, all of them aside from the cats who were comfortably watching from afar. Once she was outside, she took the time to turn her shirt around properly. A simple tee-shirt, it wasn’t something that she was too worried about, but it gave her something to find her thoughts. When Jack brought her a ball, she snapped her fingers so that he would put it at her feet before she bent over to collect it. Throwing it, she took a deep breath.

“At least it’ll give us something different.”


[PETER] Peter didn’t know what to think. He never had been good at reading body language; that Jersey should be so gentle and reassuring before disappearing to take the dogs out -- was she upset?

Of course she was. Peter himself was upset. And he was left alone with this doppelganger, whom he dismissed in a hurry. He wrote down the address and gave it to the not-Peter, awkwardly; he nearly didn’t give the piece of paper up, wondering whether the not-Peter had all of his memories, whether he even needed the address to be written down. He was torn between letting the thing go or telling it to come in and sit down so they could talk.

It took no more than two seconds to decide -- Peter was too shaken up to deal with it right now. Once he’d come to terms with the discovery, once he’d had the opportunity to do some research and ask some questions, he would then call the not-Peter back. Or, if Lucas was going to be keeping an eye on the thing, he could bring him back. It didn’t matter which. For now, Peter just wanted the thing out of the house.

Once not-Peter had disappeared, real Peter went to the back steps. Jersey had taken the dogs out, and though Peter could have disappeared into his office and closed the door, he was still too much in shock to do much of anything but sit. The door was left open behind him, the vampire ready to catch the cat should she try to escape. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed like a barrier over his chest. There, he watched Jersey with the dogs, watched how happy they were, and tried not to think about anything else.