Not Too Late (The Monkees: Mike Nesmith & Davy Jones (friends/TV personas); fear of failure)
Title: Not Too Late
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Claim: The Monkees: Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones (platonic/friendship; fictional personas from the show only!)
Table: DIY
Prompt: Fear of Failure
Rating: PG
Summary: What do you do when your friend and leader has a crisis of confidence--and it's partly because of you? Inspired by season 2's "Hillbilly Honeymoon" and done on request.
Cross-posted to FFN and monkeesfic.
Author’s note: Happy Monkee-versary! This piece was requested by PlushChrome (who has started an absolutely wonderful spin-off to this fic-do read it if you get the chance), and is based on the season 2 ep “Hillbilly Honeymoon.” It’s short, but I honestly feel that it’s much more powerful at its current length.
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Mike was certain that his heart hadn’t left its position since it had gotten lodged in his throat-that had happened when he had seen Davy hauled off to places unknown by Judd Weskitt and his mother. Even after they had finally been able to leave the wedding reception-and after Davy had seemingly bounced back effortlessly from Judd’s attempt to throw him into the moonshine vat-Mike could barely focus on driving the Monkeemobile. And he was also barely paying attention to the conversation that his three bandmates were having.
“I wonder where Judd and Ellie Mae will go for their honeymoon…” Peter mused aloud.
“Probably the middle of nowhere,” Davy said.
“Nah,” Micky said, with a wave of his hand. “They already are in the middle of nowhere; they’ve gotta go deeper into nowhere!”
Peter chuckled, and Davy just shook his head.
“Better Judd than me, at any rate…” the English boy said. He paused for a moment, realizing that there was one voice missing from the conversation. “Mike? Are you okay?”
Mike exhaled. Well, he was glad that Davy hadn’t been traumatized by the fate that Judd had promised him…
…Maybe that was because Davy hadn’t seen what Mike had seen… thought what Mike had thought when he and Micky had opened that sack…
The Texan kept his eyes on the road, but shuddered slightly. He had seen Judd hastily throw a sack behind his still as he and Micky arrived; Mr. Chubber’s warning to them that the Weskitts might have already disposed of Davy in their own sickening way had been weighing heavily on his mind, but upon seeing Judd hastily hide the sack, Mike had hoped that they had, in fact, been on time.
The nose-playing, the pig-chasing… Mike honestly didn’t remember that, even though it had only happened mere hours ago; all that he could remember was, once they had tricked the Weskitts into getting out of the house, opening up the sack and finding nothing but oats.
It had been too much for Mike; perhaps, had he been in a better, more rational state of mind, he wouldn’t have snapped and believed that this was all that remained of his young, English friend. Micky had, apparently, jumped to the same conclusion Mike had, for they both had begun to cry, openly.
Mike had hardly ever cried; he certainly wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But having built up his hopes so much in regards to their being able to rescue Davy, and seemingly finding out that he had failed had been too much.
Of course, then the real Davy turned up, finally managing to free himself from his makeshift prison. Concerned and then confused by his companions’ sorrow, he, naturally, joined in. Mike had been so out of it that it had taken him time to notice that Davy was right there, his head on his shoulder, safe and sound…
“Mike?!”
Davy’s voice jolted the Texan out of his state of mind. Unfortunately, it also caused him to jolt the steering wheel of the Monkeemobile sharply to the right. The Pontiac swerved, nearly flying off the road, but Mike managed to stop it from happening by frantically counter-steering to the left.
The car stabilized, and Mike now pulled over and put it into park, his face pale as he stared at absolutely nothing, trying to catch his breath.
His bandmates, though shaken by the near miss, were by his side in an instant-Micky and Peter clambering over the seats and Davy placing his hands on Mike’s shoulders. The English boy was the most horrified-for it had been his shout that had caused Mike to lose control of the car.
“I’m sorry…” Davy said, shocked. “I’m so sorry…”
Mike just looked to him, inhaling and exhaling.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Davy went on. “But you clearly aren’t.”
“I’m… I’m fine, Tiny.”
“No, you’re not,” Davy said. “Micky, you’d better drive.”
“Yeah, and find the nearest motel or something,” Peter added, placing a hand on Mike’s clammy forehead.
“Fellas, it’s nothing,” Mike tried to insist. “I just zoned out there for a moment; I’m fine now.”
“Well, zone out or not, I’m taking the wheel,” Micky said, with finality.
Though the Texan protested, he was outnumbered, and was soon exiled to the backseat with Davy to watch over him as Peter helped Micky navigate with the map and tour guide to find the motel.
Davy was most apologetic throughout the entire trip; somehow, he was convinced that it was his fault for somehow upsetting Mike.
“Look, I didn’t want anything to do with Ellie Mae-honestly! I’m sorry for everything I put you through-all of you!”
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault you were hauled off at rifle-point,” Peter threw over his shoulder. “We don’t blame you, do we, Mike?”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, we don’t blame you, Tiny,” Mike said, stammering over his words more than usual.
The words seemed hollow, though, and the others all noticed all too well. They tried to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. Mike’s state didn’t change even after they reached the motel. Micky and Peter reluctantly retreated to their room, worrying about him but deciding to leave him in Davy’s care. And Mike, for his part, sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly out the window.
“Mike?” Davy asked, softly.
The Texan let out a “Hmm?”
“Mike, what’s happened to you?” the English boy asked. “It’s not like you to be so out of it-especially to the point of nearly getting us into an accident.” Davy hesitated, wondering if the Texan was just a bit tipsy. “You didn’t drink any of the moonshine at the reception, did you?”
Moonshine. The trigger word.
Mike shut his eyes, his body trembling with suppressed sobs as the horrible feelings from earlier returned to him full force.
Davy’s eyes widened in horror at Mike’s uncharacteristic reaction, and he was at his side in an instant.
“Mike, what is it?! What’s wrong-!?”
He was cut off as Mike suddenly drew him into a hug.
“I thought I’d lost you…” the Texan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was too late…”
Davy tried to speak, but his voice lost itself somewhere on its way. He returned the older boy’s embrace, blinking back the tears in his own eyes.
“But you weren’t too late…” he said, at last, ignoring the quiver in his voice. “In fact, you saved me. Judd had to stop throwing me in because you and Micky showed up.”
If he had been trying to make Mike feel better, it didn’t help, for now all the Texan could think of was what could’ve happened if he had been even five seconds late.
“Sure, I saved you this time…” Mike said, bitterly. “But what about the next time? Or the time after that? Our luck can’t last forever.”
“There you go again…” Davy said. “Always worrying about people other than yourself… I know I think about our luck running out, too. I’m sure Micky and Peter do, too, and that we all fear losing each other-and you.”
“This is different,” Mike said. “What kind of leader am I supposed to be if I can’t even help you guys out? What am I!?”
Davy tightened his embrace.
“A friend who always tries his best,” he said. “And that’s what I hope I am, too.”
Mike finally stopped trembling at those words.
“…Of course you are,” he said.
Davy managed a smile, and then hesitated.
“It’s always nice to know that you’re there for us,” he said. “I won’t deny that. But you don’t have to put so much pressure on yourself. You don’t need to, Mike. Because when the chips are down… you always pull through-and pull us with you. That’s something I never need to worry about-and neither should you.” He gently squeezed the Texan’s shoulder. “But I’ll tell you what I am worried about-you. And if I know Micky and Peter, they are, too.”
“Yeah…” Mike acknowledged, sighing. “So, what do you say-impromptu band meeting?”
“Perfect time for it.”
Mike finally smiled now as he and Davy headed to Micky and Peter’s room.
“But, just so you know…” the Texan said, as the knocked on their door. “I am fine now. Thanks, Tiny.”
Davy smiled back again.
This time, he knew Mike was telling the truth.
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Claim: The Monkees: Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones (platonic/friendship; fictional personas from the show only!)
Table: DIY
Prompt: Fear of Failure
Rating: PG
Summary: What do you do when your friend and leader has a crisis of confidence--and it's partly because of you? Inspired by season 2's "Hillbilly Honeymoon" and done on request.
Cross-posted to FFN and monkeesfic.
Author’s note: Happy Monkee-versary! This piece was requested by PlushChrome (who has started an absolutely wonderful spin-off to this fic-do read it if you get the chance), and is based on the season 2 ep “Hillbilly Honeymoon.” It’s short, but I honestly feel that it’s much more powerful at its current length.
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Mike was certain that his heart hadn’t left its position since it had gotten lodged in his throat-that had happened when he had seen Davy hauled off to places unknown by Judd Weskitt and his mother. Even after they had finally been able to leave the wedding reception-and after Davy had seemingly bounced back effortlessly from Judd’s attempt to throw him into the moonshine vat-Mike could barely focus on driving the Monkeemobile. And he was also barely paying attention to the conversation that his three bandmates were having.
“I wonder where Judd and Ellie Mae will go for their honeymoon…” Peter mused aloud.
“Probably the middle of nowhere,” Davy said.
“Nah,” Micky said, with a wave of his hand. “They already are in the middle of nowhere; they’ve gotta go deeper into nowhere!”
Peter chuckled, and Davy just shook his head.
“Better Judd than me, at any rate…” the English boy said. He paused for a moment, realizing that there was one voice missing from the conversation. “Mike? Are you okay?”
Mike exhaled. Well, he was glad that Davy hadn’t been traumatized by the fate that Judd had promised him…
…Maybe that was because Davy hadn’t seen what Mike had seen… thought what Mike had thought when he and Micky had opened that sack…
The Texan kept his eyes on the road, but shuddered slightly. He had seen Judd hastily throw a sack behind his still as he and Micky arrived; Mr. Chubber’s warning to them that the Weskitts might have already disposed of Davy in their own sickening way had been weighing heavily on his mind, but upon seeing Judd hastily hide the sack, Mike had hoped that they had, in fact, been on time.
The nose-playing, the pig-chasing… Mike honestly didn’t remember that, even though it had only happened mere hours ago; all that he could remember was, once they had tricked the Weskitts into getting out of the house, opening up the sack and finding nothing but oats.
It had been too much for Mike; perhaps, had he been in a better, more rational state of mind, he wouldn’t have snapped and believed that this was all that remained of his young, English friend. Micky had, apparently, jumped to the same conclusion Mike had, for they both had begun to cry, openly.
Mike had hardly ever cried; he certainly wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But having built up his hopes so much in regards to their being able to rescue Davy, and seemingly finding out that he had failed had been too much.
Of course, then the real Davy turned up, finally managing to free himself from his makeshift prison. Concerned and then confused by his companions’ sorrow, he, naturally, joined in. Mike had been so out of it that it had taken him time to notice that Davy was right there, his head on his shoulder, safe and sound…
“Mike?!”
Davy’s voice jolted the Texan out of his state of mind. Unfortunately, it also caused him to jolt the steering wheel of the Monkeemobile sharply to the right. The Pontiac swerved, nearly flying off the road, but Mike managed to stop it from happening by frantically counter-steering to the left.
The car stabilized, and Mike now pulled over and put it into park, his face pale as he stared at absolutely nothing, trying to catch his breath.
His bandmates, though shaken by the near miss, were by his side in an instant-Micky and Peter clambering over the seats and Davy placing his hands on Mike’s shoulders. The English boy was the most horrified-for it had been his shout that had caused Mike to lose control of the car.
“I’m sorry…” Davy said, shocked. “I’m so sorry…”
Mike just looked to him, inhaling and exhaling.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Davy went on. “But you clearly aren’t.”
“I’m… I’m fine, Tiny.”
“No, you’re not,” Davy said. “Micky, you’d better drive.”
“Yeah, and find the nearest motel or something,” Peter added, placing a hand on Mike’s clammy forehead.
“Fellas, it’s nothing,” Mike tried to insist. “I just zoned out there for a moment; I’m fine now.”
“Well, zone out or not, I’m taking the wheel,” Micky said, with finality.
Though the Texan protested, he was outnumbered, and was soon exiled to the backseat with Davy to watch over him as Peter helped Micky navigate with the map and tour guide to find the motel.
Davy was most apologetic throughout the entire trip; somehow, he was convinced that it was his fault for somehow upsetting Mike.
“Look, I didn’t want anything to do with Ellie Mae-honestly! I’m sorry for everything I put you through-all of you!”
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault you were hauled off at rifle-point,” Peter threw over his shoulder. “We don’t blame you, do we, Mike?”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, we don’t blame you, Tiny,” Mike said, stammering over his words more than usual.
The words seemed hollow, though, and the others all noticed all too well. They tried to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. Mike’s state didn’t change even after they reached the motel. Micky and Peter reluctantly retreated to their room, worrying about him but deciding to leave him in Davy’s care. And Mike, for his part, sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly out the window.
“Mike?” Davy asked, softly.
The Texan let out a “Hmm?”
“Mike, what’s happened to you?” the English boy asked. “It’s not like you to be so out of it-especially to the point of nearly getting us into an accident.” Davy hesitated, wondering if the Texan was just a bit tipsy. “You didn’t drink any of the moonshine at the reception, did you?”
Moonshine. The trigger word.
Mike shut his eyes, his body trembling with suppressed sobs as the horrible feelings from earlier returned to him full force.
Davy’s eyes widened in horror at Mike’s uncharacteristic reaction, and he was at his side in an instant.
“Mike, what is it?! What’s wrong-!?”
He was cut off as Mike suddenly drew him into a hug.
“I thought I’d lost you…” the Texan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was too late…”
Davy tried to speak, but his voice lost itself somewhere on its way. He returned the older boy’s embrace, blinking back the tears in his own eyes.
“But you weren’t too late…” he said, at last, ignoring the quiver in his voice. “In fact, you saved me. Judd had to stop throwing me in because you and Micky showed up.”
If he had been trying to make Mike feel better, it didn’t help, for now all the Texan could think of was what could’ve happened if he had been even five seconds late.
“Sure, I saved you this time…” Mike said, bitterly. “But what about the next time? Or the time after that? Our luck can’t last forever.”
“There you go again…” Davy said. “Always worrying about people other than yourself… I know I think about our luck running out, too. I’m sure Micky and Peter do, too, and that we all fear losing each other-and you.”
“This is different,” Mike said. “What kind of leader am I supposed to be if I can’t even help you guys out? What am I!?”
Davy tightened his embrace.
“A friend who always tries his best,” he said. “And that’s what I hope I am, too.”
Mike finally stopped trembling at those words.
“…Of course you are,” he said.
Davy managed a smile, and then hesitated.
“It’s always nice to know that you’re there for us,” he said. “I won’t deny that. But you don’t have to put so much pressure on yourself. You don’t need to, Mike. Because when the chips are down… you always pull through-and pull us with you. That’s something I never need to worry about-and neither should you.” He gently squeezed the Texan’s shoulder. “But I’ll tell you what I am worried about-you. And if I know Micky and Peter, they are, too.”
“Yeah…” Mike acknowledged, sighing. “So, what do you say-impromptu band meeting?”
“Perfect time for it.”
Mike finally smiled now as he and Davy headed to Micky and Peter’s room.
“But, just so you know…” the Texan said, as the knocked on their door. “I am fine now. Thanks, Tiny.”
Davy smiled back again.
This time, he knew Mike was telling the truth.