Lone Star and Union Jack short story collection: Installment 13
Title: Lone Star and Union Jack, Story 13: Fading Through the Door, Part I
Author: rose_of_pollux
Rating: G (this vignette; later vignettes will have varying ratings)
Summary: A collection of vignettes and short fics focusing on Mike and Davy's friendship, varying in timeline position and in genre.
In this vignette: You should always want the best for your best friend... even if it breaks your heart. Inspired by season 1's "Monkee Mother" and done on request. Part One
Warnings: None
Genre: General/Friendship, Drama (for this one)
Pairing: None
Main Character(s): Mike and Davy
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and the story is; fictional personas from the TV show.
Notes: This one was inspired by a request from an Anon for a piece inspired by “Monkee Mother,” so I started it… and, somehow, it just kept expanding and expanding, so I had to split it in pieces if I had any hope of being able to work on my other fic. I’m not sure how many pieces this’ll be, so we’ll just have to wait and see.
Fading Through the Door, Part I
Visitors at all hours of the pad were not uncommon for the Monkees. Old friends, a few rivals, and the odd enemy always seemed to turn up. Sometimes, when they were lucky, it was a gig for all four of them.
And, sometimes, when they were not so lucky… it was a gig-for just one of them.
Davy hadn’t known what to expect when he moved to answer the door. After yet another failed attempt to look through the peephole, Davy opened it to reveal Millie Rudnick. Well, that was what they had known her as; they had gotten so used to calling her that, the last name stuck, despite her marriage.
“Hey,” Davy grinned. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going great, Davy-just great!” Millie said, grinning. “Hey, is Mike home?”
“Mike? He and Micky are out getting our meal fixings; it’s just Peter and me right now-”
“Hi!” the blond called.
“Hi, Peter,” Mille replied. “Well, can you two boys do me a favor? I need you to give this number to Mike.”
She handed Davy a piece of paper.
“What’s this for?”
“Well…” Millie sighed. “You know that time I was staying here with you boys? I asked Mike if there was anything I could do for him. And he just looked at me with those brown eyes of his and asked me to make him a success.”
“Oh…” Davy said, softly.
Of course, that was Mike’s dream. Ever since he had first met Mike, Davy knew that the Texan wished to be a success-name in lights, reaching the big time. It was something they had discussed when they were putting their Lone Star and Union Jack act together.
“Listen, Tiny…” Mike had said. “Before we get started, you’ve gotta ask yourself something very important. What do you want out of this?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you want Lone Star and Union Jack to do for you? What’s your motivation for doing this?”
“Well,” Davy had replied, after thinking about it. “I just want to have a good time, that’s all-be happy making other people happy. And if I can charm a girl or two along the way, well…”
Mike had chuckled at that.
“I think you’ll have a good thing going with this, then, Tiny. You’ll be just fine.”
“Glad you think so. But what do you want out of it, Mike?” Davy had asked.
“Same thing that I wanted to get when I left New Gallifrey,” Mike had replied. “I want to be a success. I want people to look at me and say, ‘There’s Mike Nesmith-all the way from Texas. He started out as a nothing and a nobody, and, somehow, he made it. He became important.’ That’s what I want, Davy.”
“Then I’ll do my best to help you achieve that,” the English boy had promised.
Davy brought himself back to the present as Millie started speaking again.
“Larry and I are helping this fella move to Phoenix,” she said, indicating the name on the piece of paper. “He’s a music producer, and he’s getting together some country-western singers and songwriters. He’s going to throw a little talent show for them, and he’ll sign on the winner to a recording contract.”
“Wow,” Peter said, his eyes wide. “Mike would win that hands down!”
“You’re not kidding,” Millie said. “That’s why I want him to give our client a call; he said he’s more than willing to have Mike come along to Phoenix with us and take part in the talent show.”
Davy stared at the piece of paper and then looked up to Millie.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll tell Mike as soon as he gets back.”
Millie blinked.
“Is something wrong, Davy?”
“No, I’m fine,” he promised, managing a smile. “Hey, thanks for this; I know Mike will appreciate it!”
Millie smiled back and left with a cheery wave, but Davy’s smile faded as he closed the door after her.
“She’s right; something’s wrong with you,” Peter said, folding his arms. “Davy, come on! I thought you’d be happy for Mike! …You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course I’m not jealous!” Davy said. “Mike’s our leader, and goodness knows that he’s been wanting a chance like this for as long as I’ve known him! I’m happy for him; I really am!”
“Then… why the gloom?”
“If he wins this thing, he gets that contract,” Davy explained. “He’d probably have to move down to Phoenix. And if that producer only wants country-western music, he won’t want us there to complicate things.”
“Oh,” Peter said. His eyes widened as the words sunk in. “Oh…”
“Exactly,” Davy said.
The blond absently plucked at the strings of his bass as he realized the full weight of the situation.
“What happens now?” he asked, after some time.
Davy sat down on the backless couch, staring at the paper.
“We have to tell him,” he said. “Whether we like it or not. Mike has done so much for us; if the time has come that he needs to look after himself and…” He swallowed hard; the words were almost impossible to say. “…Leave us behind, then, as his friends, we owe it to him to say goodbye and good luck.” He sighed. “I promised him that I would do my best to help him achieve his dream of being a success. If that means letting him go, then I have no choice but to keep my word and do it.”
“I always thought that if we became successes, it’d be together,” Peter said. “That’s the way I wanted it…”
“That’s the way I wanted it, too,” Davy said. “But I don’t like the idea of the three of us dragging down Mike. He feels obligated to stay with us and help us-so he never gets a chance to try to chase his own dream. I want him to be the success that he wants to be. Mike deserves that.”
“I deserve what, now?” Mike asked, as he opened the front door in time to hear that last bit.
“Millie Rudnick was just here; she wanted us to give you the phone number of a music producer going to Phoenix…” Davy said, and he began to describe what happened as Mike and Micky brought in the groceries.
“Wow, Man,” Micky sighed. “Mike, you’d be a shoe-in to win and get the contract!”
“Just like you’ve always wanted,” Davy said. Micky clearly hadn’t thought this through; Peter was trying to silently transmit the message to him, but it wasn’t getting through.
Mike was eagerly rereading the name and number.
“I’d hate to ditch you guys,” he said. “But if y’all think you can get along without me for a few days-”
“Hey, we’ll be fine!” Micky said, not noticing the looks on Davy and Peter’s faces. “You go for this thing!”
Mike didn’t need telling twice; he was on the phone in an instant, calling up the producer and introducing himself.
“Isn’t this great?” Micky said, watching him. “Our Mike’s gonna get his big break at last-a recording contract! …Hey, what’s with you two?”
“What happens when Mike wins that recording contract?” Davy asked, rhetorically.
“Well, he’ll become famous, he’ll go on tours and spend all his time with the…” Micky trailed off as the sudden realization struck him.
The three turned their attention to Mike, who was singing a few bars of “Oklahoma Backroom Dancer” over the phone. The grin on his face, though, was a wonderful sight to behold-they couldn’t deny that.
“So… what do we do?” Micky said.
“Like I told Peter,” Davy said. “We let him go, and wish him well.”
Micky blinked, but nodded. Further discussion was halted as Mike got off the phone, grinning ear to ear and talking a mile a minute.
“Hey, fellas, I’m heading to Phoenix tomorrow morning; they’re getting an early start tomorrow, so I’ll probably be gone by the time you guys wake up, but the groceries are here, so y’all should be just fine. I’ll be riding with them, so I’ll leave the Monkeemobile here in case you need it. I’m just going to grab my guitar and some clothes and fine-tune some of these compositions tonight…”
He bounded up the stairs two at a time, still rambling.
“He hasn’t even got the contract yet, and he’s over the moon,” Micky said. “Man, it’ll be worth being a trio to see him so happy.”
“I guess so,” Peter said.
“Hey, Davy, you remember this?!” Mike said from the top of the stairs, pulling out the blue-star-studded white Stetson that Davy had given him for part of his Lone Star costume. “I got the whole suit up here, just waiting to be used at that Phoenix show!”
Davy tried to ignore the lump in his throat.
“Of course I remember it,” he said. “I still have the Royal Guardsman’s uniform you gave me, too.”
“Well, I gotta thank you again for this; it’ll be perfect!”
Perfect would be all four of us getting that contract deal, like Peter said, Davy thought. I don’t want to say goodbye, Mike. Not yet.
He, Micky, and Peter soon busied themselves with making dinner. Mike was running around like a man possessed, stuffing clothes and sheet music into a bag, stopping to eat only as an afterthought.
The mix of emotions Davy was feeling was really getting to be too much. It was almost impossible not to feel happy at the look of sheer joy on Mike’s face as he eagerly looked forward to his upcoming adventure.
On the other hand, it was equally impossible not to feel upset at the thought that this meal might very well be the last one that the four of them shared as a quartet. But he wasn’t going to let on that he was upset-and, clearly, neither were Micky and Peter.
It wasn’t the first time they had been faced with one of them leaving the group; Davy had nearly been forced to leave by his grandfather, after all. But that had been against Davy’s will. If Mike got that contract, he would leave of his own free will.
And that’s what made it hurt the most.
******************************
Mike was soon back to fine-tuning his tunes once dinnertime ended. He was promising to work well into the night; one by one, the other Monkees wished him good luck and retired for the night-first Micky, then Peter, and, lastly, Davy.
It was early the next morning-almost 6 AM-when Davy heard the sounds of shuffling around in the living room. He grabbed his robe and headed out in time to see Mike with his bag and guitar about to head out the door. He was wearing the Stetson instead of his wool hat, the rest of the suit obviously in his crammed bag.
“Hey, Tiny,” the Texan grinned. “What’re you doing up?”
“Thought I’d see you off,” the English boy said, managing a smile. “I know I don’t have to, but I’ve known you the longest, so…”
“Well, thanks,” Mike said, placing the guitar case down long enough to give him a one-armed hug. “You and Mick and Pete keep it going, okay?”
“Of course we will.”
“And try to stay out of trouble, huh?”
“Can’t make any promises about that,” Davy said, grinning in spite of himself.
Mike grinned back.
“Yeah, I reckon I’ll find my own trouble down in Phoenix-makes me wish I could take you guys with me…”
Davy saw the wistful look in Mike’s eyes for just a moment, and he felt the lump in his throat grow a little larger.
Tell him now, his mind ordered him. Tell him you don’t want him to leave-you don’t want the group to become a trio.
“Mike…?”
“Yeah?”
Davy opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He couldn’t break his promise-the promise he made the day they formed their two-man group. He had promised to do his best to help Mike achieve his dream-that meant being happy for him and letting him go follow his own path, even if it led away from him.
Mike had given him a place to stay, started him off on a musical career, and, above all, given him more than four years of a loyal friendship. It was time to return the favor.
“Davy?” Mike asked, bringing him around.
“Just… go get ‘em,” the English boy said.
“You bet I will, Tiny; you bet I will.”
He released Davy from the embrace, picked up his guitar, and opened the door. Looking back before crossing the threshold, he gave Davy another smile and tipped the brim of the Stetson.
Davy returned it until the door closed behind Mike, whereupon the smile was replaced by the tears he had successfully held back until that point.
“Goodbye, Mike,” he whispered.
Author: rose_of_pollux
Rating: G (this vignette; later vignettes will have varying ratings)
Summary: A collection of vignettes and short fics focusing on Mike and Davy's friendship, varying in timeline position and in genre.
In this vignette: You should always want the best for your best friend... even if it breaks your heart. Inspired by season 1's "Monkee Mother" and done on request. Part One
Warnings: None
Genre: General/Friendship, Drama (for this one)
Pairing: None
Main Character(s): Mike and Davy
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and the story is; fictional personas from the TV show.
Notes: This one was inspired by a request from an Anon for a piece inspired by “Monkee Mother,” so I started it… and, somehow, it just kept expanding and expanding, so I had to split it in pieces if I had any hope of being able to work on my other fic. I’m not sure how many pieces this’ll be, so we’ll just have to wait and see.
Fading Through the Door, Part I
Visitors at all hours of the pad were not uncommon for the Monkees. Old friends, a few rivals, and the odd enemy always seemed to turn up. Sometimes, when they were lucky, it was a gig for all four of them.
And, sometimes, when they were not so lucky… it was a gig-for just one of them.
Davy hadn’t known what to expect when he moved to answer the door. After yet another failed attempt to look through the peephole, Davy opened it to reveal Millie Rudnick. Well, that was what they had known her as; they had gotten so used to calling her that, the last name stuck, despite her marriage.
“Hey,” Davy grinned. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going great, Davy-just great!” Millie said, grinning. “Hey, is Mike home?”
“Mike? He and Micky are out getting our meal fixings; it’s just Peter and me right now-”
“Hi!” the blond called.
“Hi, Peter,” Mille replied. “Well, can you two boys do me a favor? I need you to give this number to Mike.”
She handed Davy a piece of paper.
“What’s this for?”
“Well…” Millie sighed. “You know that time I was staying here with you boys? I asked Mike if there was anything I could do for him. And he just looked at me with those brown eyes of his and asked me to make him a success.”
“Oh…” Davy said, softly.
Of course, that was Mike’s dream. Ever since he had first met Mike, Davy knew that the Texan wished to be a success-name in lights, reaching the big time. It was something they had discussed when they were putting their Lone Star and Union Jack act together.
“Listen, Tiny…” Mike had said. “Before we get started, you’ve gotta ask yourself something very important. What do you want out of this?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you want Lone Star and Union Jack to do for you? What’s your motivation for doing this?”
“Well,” Davy had replied, after thinking about it. “I just want to have a good time, that’s all-be happy making other people happy. And if I can charm a girl or two along the way, well…”
Mike had chuckled at that.
“I think you’ll have a good thing going with this, then, Tiny. You’ll be just fine.”
“Glad you think so. But what do you want out of it, Mike?” Davy had asked.
“Same thing that I wanted to get when I left New Gallifrey,” Mike had replied. “I want to be a success. I want people to look at me and say, ‘There’s Mike Nesmith-all the way from Texas. He started out as a nothing and a nobody, and, somehow, he made it. He became important.’ That’s what I want, Davy.”
“Then I’ll do my best to help you achieve that,” the English boy had promised.
Davy brought himself back to the present as Millie started speaking again.
“Larry and I are helping this fella move to Phoenix,” she said, indicating the name on the piece of paper. “He’s a music producer, and he’s getting together some country-western singers and songwriters. He’s going to throw a little talent show for them, and he’ll sign on the winner to a recording contract.”
“Wow,” Peter said, his eyes wide. “Mike would win that hands down!”
“You’re not kidding,” Millie said. “That’s why I want him to give our client a call; he said he’s more than willing to have Mike come along to Phoenix with us and take part in the talent show.”
Davy stared at the piece of paper and then looked up to Millie.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll tell Mike as soon as he gets back.”
Millie blinked.
“Is something wrong, Davy?”
“No, I’m fine,” he promised, managing a smile. “Hey, thanks for this; I know Mike will appreciate it!”
Millie smiled back and left with a cheery wave, but Davy’s smile faded as he closed the door after her.
“She’s right; something’s wrong with you,” Peter said, folding his arms. “Davy, come on! I thought you’d be happy for Mike! …You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course I’m not jealous!” Davy said. “Mike’s our leader, and goodness knows that he’s been wanting a chance like this for as long as I’ve known him! I’m happy for him; I really am!”
“Then… why the gloom?”
“If he wins this thing, he gets that contract,” Davy explained. “He’d probably have to move down to Phoenix. And if that producer only wants country-western music, he won’t want us there to complicate things.”
“Oh,” Peter said. His eyes widened as the words sunk in. “Oh…”
“Exactly,” Davy said.
The blond absently plucked at the strings of his bass as he realized the full weight of the situation.
“What happens now?” he asked, after some time.
Davy sat down on the backless couch, staring at the paper.
“We have to tell him,” he said. “Whether we like it or not. Mike has done so much for us; if the time has come that he needs to look after himself and…” He swallowed hard; the words were almost impossible to say. “…Leave us behind, then, as his friends, we owe it to him to say goodbye and good luck.” He sighed. “I promised him that I would do my best to help him achieve his dream of being a success. If that means letting him go, then I have no choice but to keep my word and do it.”
“I always thought that if we became successes, it’d be together,” Peter said. “That’s the way I wanted it…”
“That’s the way I wanted it, too,” Davy said. “But I don’t like the idea of the three of us dragging down Mike. He feels obligated to stay with us and help us-so he never gets a chance to try to chase his own dream. I want him to be the success that he wants to be. Mike deserves that.”
“I deserve what, now?” Mike asked, as he opened the front door in time to hear that last bit.
“Millie Rudnick was just here; she wanted us to give you the phone number of a music producer going to Phoenix…” Davy said, and he began to describe what happened as Mike and Micky brought in the groceries.
“Wow, Man,” Micky sighed. “Mike, you’d be a shoe-in to win and get the contract!”
“Just like you’ve always wanted,” Davy said. Micky clearly hadn’t thought this through; Peter was trying to silently transmit the message to him, but it wasn’t getting through.
Mike was eagerly rereading the name and number.
“I’d hate to ditch you guys,” he said. “But if y’all think you can get along without me for a few days-”
“Hey, we’ll be fine!” Micky said, not noticing the looks on Davy and Peter’s faces. “You go for this thing!”
Mike didn’t need telling twice; he was on the phone in an instant, calling up the producer and introducing himself.
“Isn’t this great?” Micky said, watching him. “Our Mike’s gonna get his big break at last-a recording contract! …Hey, what’s with you two?”
“What happens when Mike wins that recording contract?” Davy asked, rhetorically.
“Well, he’ll become famous, he’ll go on tours and spend all his time with the…” Micky trailed off as the sudden realization struck him.
The three turned their attention to Mike, who was singing a few bars of “Oklahoma Backroom Dancer” over the phone. The grin on his face, though, was a wonderful sight to behold-they couldn’t deny that.
“So… what do we do?” Micky said.
“Like I told Peter,” Davy said. “We let him go, and wish him well.”
Micky blinked, but nodded. Further discussion was halted as Mike got off the phone, grinning ear to ear and talking a mile a minute.
“Hey, fellas, I’m heading to Phoenix tomorrow morning; they’re getting an early start tomorrow, so I’ll probably be gone by the time you guys wake up, but the groceries are here, so y’all should be just fine. I’ll be riding with them, so I’ll leave the Monkeemobile here in case you need it. I’m just going to grab my guitar and some clothes and fine-tune some of these compositions tonight…”
He bounded up the stairs two at a time, still rambling.
“He hasn’t even got the contract yet, and he’s over the moon,” Micky said. “Man, it’ll be worth being a trio to see him so happy.”
“I guess so,” Peter said.
“Hey, Davy, you remember this?!” Mike said from the top of the stairs, pulling out the blue-star-studded white Stetson that Davy had given him for part of his Lone Star costume. “I got the whole suit up here, just waiting to be used at that Phoenix show!”
Davy tried to ignore the lump in his throat.
“Of course I remember it,” he said. “I still have the Royal Guardsman’s uniform you gave me, too.”
“Well, I gotta thank you again for this; it’ll be perfect!”
Perfect would be all four of us getting that contract deal, like Peter said, Davy thought. I don’t want to say goodbye, Mike. Not yet.
He, Micky, and Peter soon busied themselves with making dinner. Mike was running around like a man possessed, stuffing clothes and sheet music into a bag, stopping to eat only as an afterthought.
The mix of emotions Davy was feeling was really getting to be too much. It was almost impossible not to feel happy at the look of sheer joy on Mike’s face as he eagerly looked forward to his upcoming adventure.
On the other hand, it was equally impossible not to feel upset at the thought that this meal might very well be the last one that the four of them shared as a quartet. But he wasn’t going to let on that he was upset-and, clearly, neither were Micky and Peter.
It wasn’t the first time they had been faced with one of them leaving the group; Davy had nearly been forced to leave by his grandfather, after all. But that had been against Davy’s will. If Mike got that contract, he would leave of his own free will.
And that’s what made it hurt the most.
******************************
Mike was soon back to fine-tuning his tunes once dinnertime ended. He was promising to work well into the night; one by one, the other Monkees wished him good luck and retired for the night-first Micky, then Peter, and, lastly, Davy.
It was early the next morning-almost 6 AM-when Davy heard the sounds of shuffling around in the living room. He grabbed his robe and headed out in time to see Mike with his bag and guitar about to head out the door. He was wearing the Stetson instead of his wool hat, the rest of the suit obviously in his crammed bag.
“Hey, Tiny,” the Texan grinned. “What’re you doing up?”
“Thought I’d see you off,” the English boy said, managing a smile. “I know I don’t have to, but I’ve known you the longest, so…”
“Well, thanks,” Mike said, placing the guitar case down long enough to give him a one-armed hug. “You and Mick and Pete keep it going, okay?”
“Of course we will.”
“And try to stay out of trouble, huh?”
“Can’t make any promises about that,” Davy said, grinning in spite of himself.
Mike grinned back.
“Yeah, I reckon I’ll find my own trouble down in Phoenix-makes me wish I could take you guys with me…”
Davy saw the wistful look in Mike’s eyes for just a moment, and he felt the lump in his throat grow a little larger.
Tell him now, his mind ordered him. Tell him you don’t want him to leave-you don’t want the group to become a trio.
“Mike…?”
“Yeah?”
Davy opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He couldn’t break his promise-the promise he made the day they formed their two-man group. He had promised to do his best to help Mike achieve his dream-that meant being happy for him and letting him go follow his own path, even if it led away from him.
Mike had given him a place to stay, started him off on a musical career, and, above all, given him more than four years of a loyal friendship. It was time to return the favor.
“Davy?” Mike asked, bringing him around.
“Just… go get ‘em,” the English boy said.
“You bet I will, Tiny; you bet I will.”
He released Davy from the embrace, picked up his guitar, and opened the door. Looking back before crossing the threshold, he gave Davy another smile and tipped the brim of the Stetson.
Davy returned it until the door closed behind Mike, whereupon the smile was replaced by the tears he had successfully held back until that point.
“Goodbye, Mike,” he whispered.