It was close to 7 by this point and it was the regular routine in the Monkee household. Mike was making dinner, Micky was reading, Davy was watching tv, and Peter was upstairs, most likely doodling in one of his hundreds of notebooks.

The little moment of peace after the strange and stressful day was interrupted by:

Knock knock knock.

"I'll get it!" Peter called out, hurrying downstairs to reach the door. Despite his attempt to get there first, Mike was the one who opened the door.

"Hello?" He asked instinctively as he opened the door. He frowned, looking at the person closely.

"Hello…" Michael whispered, putting on a nervous smile. "Y-you're Mike Nesmith?"

Mike didn't answer but he didn't have to. Michael had understood what he meant quite easily. He coughed and straightened up, trying to seem like he wasn't as frightened as he was.

"Uh…c-could we talk?"

Mike stared at him for a moment and didn't say a word as he slammed the door in Michael's face, causing him to jump.

"Who was that?" Micky asked from the couch, slightly amused by Mike's reaction. Mike turned and glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Is what some kind of joke?" Davy frowned and Mike sighed, turning back to Micky.

"I'm not impressed," he muttered, storming off into the kitchen.

"Hey!" Micky whined. "What'd I do?"

But Mike didn't answer him. Micky sighed and went back to reading as Peter and Davy exchanged a worried and confused look. When Mike turned his back on the two, Peter quickly made his way over to the door and stepped outside before realizing who was standing there. He frowned slightly and looked into the window, seeing that Mike was, indeed, still in the kitchen, working on making dinner. He frowned, confused as he tried to understand how Mike was in two places at once.

"H-hello…" a quiet voice said, causing him to look up. Peter smiled.

"Hi...Mike."

He frowned slightly.

"You are Mike, right?"

Michael nodded.

"J-just not your Mike."

Peter nodded slowly, thinking about it more.

Michael didn't know what to do. What to feel, how to act, what to say, anything.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, slightly concerned. He was confused too, but was more worried about his state than anything else.

"I-I-I…" Michael started. "I-I don't know…"

Peter frowned and nodded. He wanted to help, but didn't know the right thing to do.

"Um, okay," he said, looking down. "Do you wanna come in?"

"What?"

Peter shrugged.

"Do you wanna come inside?" He asked again. "W-we have food, it's warm…"

Michael had to smile but couldn't bring himself to accept the offer.

"N-no thanks…" he said. "I already ate this morning."

A worried look suddenly came over Peter's face.

"You haven't eaten anything since morning…?"

Michael shook his head with a slight smile on his face. Even back home, there weren't many people, especially not strangers, who cared much about him.

"I-I had a banana this morning…" he shrugged. "N-nothing since then, though."

"Oh," Peter said sadly. "Well, do you wanna come in?"

Michael didn't know if he actually had a choice in that question. On one hand, he had upset the one person he had wanted to see, who probably now wanted nothing to do with him. But at the same time he was hungry and tired, still recovering from being sick.

"P-please…?"

Peter smiled and nodded, opening the door and leading him in. Peter gestured for them to be quiet as they crept in, slowly closing the door behind them.

They were doing fine until Davy happened to look up at a commercial break. His eyes went wide and he began looking in between the two Mikes, beginning to feel dizzy as he tried to wrap his head around it.

"I think I'm seeing double…" he whispered to Micky, who looked up and grinned when he saw Michael. Peter was silently begging him not to say a word right then, but Micky couldn't help himself.

"Hey, Mike, you seeing this?" He called out, causing Mike to turn around.

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before Mike marched up to him, studying him closely. Finally, he spoke up.

"Get out," he ordered.

"Mike," Peter pleaded. "He's hungry and cold."

"Yeah, Mike, come on," Micky added.

"You did this, didn't you?" Mike asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?" Micky scoffed. "Did what?"

"You're the one who brought this here."

Micky frowned.

"No, I didn't."

"Please?" Peter asked. "He has nowhere else to go."

"No," Mike said sternly. "It has no business being here."

Michael wanted to cry. He blew all his money, he came all this way just to talk, only to be pushed away and called "it".

"P-please…" Michael stammered, setting his bags down on the ground. "I-I just wanna talk, that's all. I just wanna…"

His voice trailed off and his face changed as suddenly the world went black. And when one Michael Nesmith collapsed onto the ground, the other did too almost instantly