A/N: Yes, I have written another oneshot about the team finding out about Alt-livia. I can't help it. I'm going through a Fringe-related depression because our Olivia, that we love so freaking much, is probably dead right now... and when Peter finds out he's gonna kill himself... and if Peter kills himself, Walter will kill himself... and then Astrid will be reassigned... and then Gene will end up at a petting zoo with annoying five-year-olds trying to kill her...

I said I'm going through a Fringey depression. So... just enjoy.

Her hair was soft to the touch, silky underneath his gentle fingers. Each stroke of his wrist brushed his fingertips against the most perfect head in the world, keeping the strands out of her sleeping face. It was about time she finally passed out – it was almost two in the morning – but they had stayed up late that night working on the case. He smiled to himself, loving that he got to see her at her most vulnerable. The case was really taking a toll on her and he knew she wouldn't be able to sleep without someone there with her. Someone she trusted.

She whimpered in her dream, cuddling closer against Peter's side. He hushed her, wrapping his arms around her familiar frame. She was scared. It wasn't an emotion he associated with her that often but that was really the only way to describe her right then. She had terrible nightmares that frustrated him. Whenever he tried to protect her, she goes somewhere where he can't.

The red bangs in her eyes bothered him. He kept moving them, trying to make her look like his Olivia, but they kept falling back into her face. She had said it would wash out, but he can't see a difference yet, and it's been two weeks. She's washed her hair at least fourteen times but its still as red as when he had first saw her back in his apartment over there. The surprising thing is that her hair felt natural. Normally after hair is dyed there's a certain residue to it, a roughness and deadness. But her hair was silky and smooth, each lock perfectly straight and even.

He took his mind off that. The other side probably had better hair products. They had better everything else; it had to be very likely.

She smiled in her sleep, a shy little smile that warmed his entire being. She was so beautiful. Why couldn't she see that? He saw it in her every day, every moment like this. Time seems to just stretch on forever, each second as carefree as the previous. That is until something changes.

Her eyes open slowly and he realizes her eyes are different. He hasn't really had the change to see her eyes this close up lately, but there are subtle changes. Her eyes were bluer now; the green rims more of an aquamarine. The changes are pretty but he couldn't understand why. Why the sudden difference?

The broader smile distracted him out of those thoughts. "You could have woke me up," she whispered, burying her face in his chest. "I wouldn't have minded. Much."

He kissed her soft hair, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "Now why would I do that?" he asked playfully. "You looked so peaceful. I would have never forgiven myself if I had done something like that to you." She laughed, pulling back to look him in the eyes. That was another difference in her. She was much more optimistic and laid-back now.

"Well, it's, like, really late. You should probably go home."

He could see the look in her eyes that she wanted him to stay again, not to leave her on a night like this. Still, he pretended to think it over. "Hmm…" he whispered after a while. "I'd rather not have to deal with Walter's questions…" She giggled with delight and kissed him quickly on the cheek. They were still testing boundaries, which was unfortunate for him but he wanted her to be happy.

She got up and went into the kitchen, attempting to find something to drink but only found milk and apple juice. She filled two glasses with cool tap water and brought them back to him. The look that passed between then was part amusement, part embarrassment. He could get used to living with her.

Only she tripped on the rug and sent water flying everywhere, especially right in his face.

He froze, not because his hair was now drenched and his shirt soaked. Not because the water had ice cubes in it that fell against his legs and chilled him to the bone. Not even because she muttered something under her breath that he couldn't hear. No, he froze because his blood turned to ice in his veins.

She tripped.

She never tripped. Ever. He had been working with her for almost two years now and not once had she tripped on accident or on purpose. Her balance was almost catlike. He found it oddly appealing, but here she is, falling flat on her face on the floor.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry," she said, sliding over to him to start getting the ice cubes off him. "Crap. I got water everywhere." She sighed in frustration and went to get paper towels to mop up the mess. But when she came back and leaned over, her hair fell at just the right angle, revealing the skin at the base of her neck.

A tattoo. A red-and-black tattoo, small and evil-looking. There was a ninja star look to it, but he immediately thought of the alternate Fringe division. Then it all started clicking – all the little differences in Olivia were present in Alter-Olivia, all the things he loved about Olivia were missing in the new one. This was Alter-Olivia. There was just no way it couldn't be.

He got up woodenly and left. While he stood in the door way, he looked back at the woman sitting on the floor, watching him with pain-filled eyes. "Traitor," he spat, making sure she felt the exact same way he had wanted Walter to feel after he found out the lie. "Go back to your own kind because you don't belong here." With that, he slammed the door behind him and called Broyles. He explained the whole situation, and knew SWAT would be here in the next five minutes.

Peter went home and took comfort with Walter, who he was starting to see as a "foster father." Because after all, Walter would know how to get Olivia back home. And sometimes you just really need a dad for advice.

Please review. I'm sad about a TV show, two minutes of your time might make my pathetic life all that more worthwhile.