Fic: Band of Brothers (The Monkees, Doctor Who Crossover fic, pg-13)
Title: Band of Brothers
Series: TARDIS Series-P(rototype)
Author: Sparrow
Fandom: The Monkees, Doctor Who
Characters: Peter, Mike, Davy, Micky and Mike’s mom
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I in no way own The Monkees or Doctor Who. I just love playing in their ‘verses.
Author’s Note: Huge thanks to jennytork for the wonderful help with the story. Also, thanks are given to strangevisitor7 for the wonderful beta.
Spoilers: Just basic idea of what The Monkees are about and Doctor Who. Please read the first story, as this one continues where it left off.
Summary: Sequel to Are You There Rassilion? It’s Me, Peter Tork.. The Monkees find out exactly what a TARDIS is, but their adventure is cut short when Mike receives news his mom is sick.
“A TIME SHIP!!!” The Monkees chorused together.
Peter wriggled a finger in his ear. “That was a little loud guys.”
“Well you bloody well tell us you’re a time ship, what else do you expect? Cookies and tea?” Davy spat out sarcastically.
“You did ask if I found out who I was,” Peter pointed out.
“Um, no offence Peter, but you look a little too human to be any kind of ship,” Micky said.
“I can transform into a ship form. My human form is for exploration.”
“Of course, that makes perfect sense,” Micky nodded to himself.
Peter turned expressive eyes towards Mike, who remained silent. “Michael?”
“Who’s Drax?”
Peter’s breath hitched slightly. “I, I can’t believe I forgot all about him.” Tears started at the corner of the blonde eyes.
“Pete?” Micky gently asked.
“Drax - Drax was my pilot. He burned. I burned. All of my brothers and sisters burned.”
“Why did they burn?” Mike asked.
Peter wiped away his tears. “A war. The Time War. We lost and I somehow survived.” Sad brown eyes looked at Mike. “Does that make me a coward?”
Mike pulled Peter into a hug. “No. It makes you a survivor.”
“Somehow, the two feel like the same thing right now.”
"You never got a chance to mourn Drax, did you?" Micky realised.
Peter shook his head no. “I ended up right in the backyard of the Torks. Didn’t remember who I was or what I was. I just remembered fire.”
“Hence your dreams from when you were little.” Davy concluded.
“Yes.” Peter said. “This is the first time, in a long time, I’ve felt so complete.”
“I know Drax was your pilot, but who was he besides just a pilot?” Mike asked.
“He was everything. I was so young when I was handed to him.” Peter started.
“Wait, handed to him?” Micky voiced incredulously.
“TARDIS’s were grown and then paired with Time Lords - that’s what Drax was, a Time Lord - and a partnership would be formed.”
“How old were you then?” Davy asked.
“I was young by TARDIS standards, but I guess my age would seem old to humans.” Peter said.
Micky rolled his eyes. “And?”
“I was about seventy-five earth years old, when handed over to Drax. I looked no older than a seven-year-old human child.”
There was an uncomfortable pause of silence before Mike spoke. “How old are you now Peter?”
“I am almost two hundred years old now.”
“You look pretty good for almost two hundred years old,” Micky said with a grin.
Peter shyly smiled at him. “Thanks, Micky.”
“Getting back on topic - Drax, you said he was a Time Lord, what’s that?” Mike asked.
“A Time Lord was someone who could see threads of time and navigate the timelines with a TARDIS. Someone who could see everything that was, everything that is and everything that could be,” Peter stated sadly and looked sad. “We were connected mentally and when he died in the Time War...it’s a bit of a blur honestly and I remember an emptiness and then nothing.”
“So he definitely was ‘your everything’,” Mike quoted back to Peter.
Peter nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“And you said you were a ‘Type-102 TARDIS Series-P’. What’s that?” Micky asked, breaking the sombre mood that was now in the room.
“What you have to understand is there are different Types of TARDIS’s, just like there are different types of guitars or basses. They’re all unique and different,” Peter began. “Drax - Drax had a friend who piloted a Type-40, a very old type of TARDIS. There were walking mobile humanoid TARDIS’s, military TARDIS’s and then my type. Type-102’s.”
“And what made Type-102’s so different from the others?” Mike asked.
“We had sentience, full sentience. We could feel, think, reason,” Peter said. “And physically humanoid.”
“And the ‘Series-P’ bit?” Davy voiced.
“Series-P, P standing for prototype. I…I was one of the first type-102’s to be grown. Hence Series-P, prototype.” Here, Peter smiled. “Drax used to call me Proto.”
“So now what?” Mike asked.
“Spring cleaning,” Peter deadpanned.
“Huh?” Micky and Davy chorused together.
Peter grimaced. “I’m going to, uh, shift into my ship mode. Have a feeling my platform inside is - messy.”
“You’re gonna shift inside?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, my form is small enough. I’m going to be in hibernation mode for a couple of days while I do internal clean-up. It’s hard to explain, you’ll see after everything is done,” Peter said.
“Okay Pete, we trust you,” Mike squeezed Peter’s shoulder in comfort. Micky and Davy quickly followed.
Smiling Peter stood and made his way over to one of the walls and concentrated on something only he could see.
The others watched as Peter’s form shifted and transformed. Panels of blue wood overlapped one another and the blond grew in size. When it was all done, there stood a tall blue wooden box.
“Hey! I recognize this!” Davy exclaimed as he ran a hand over the wood.
The light on top of Peter’s ship form blinked and then died down to a low pulse.
Feeling the wood shudder underneath him, Davy gave it one last pat and stepped away.
“So what exactly is Peter here?” Micky asked as he and Mike joined the singer.
“Peter’s ship form here is a nineteen-fifty’s Police Box. They were all over England. Could step into one and call one of the coppers.” Here, Davy grinned.
“Great, more questions!” Micky exclaimed as he threw up his hands. “Like, why that form?”
Here, Peter’s door opened and spat out a book that hit Micky right in the chest.
Catching the book, Micky found himself propelled backwards and landed flat on his back.
“’A Dummy’s Guide to Your Type-102 and You’,” Micky read out loud from the book’s title.
Mike chuckled. “Guess that can answer all of your questions there, Mick.”
Helping Micky to his feet, Davy continued to stare at Peter’s ship form.
“All right there Davy?” Micky asked Davy.
Davy shook his head a little, “Yeah, head felt strange there for a minute.”
“So what does the book have to say about Peter here?” Mike asked Micky.
Taking a quick look through the pages, Micky sighed. “In one word - complicated.”
They settled in to watch Peter and eat the Chinese food they'd had delivered. Micky meanwhile was trying to make head or tails of the book Peter spat out at him.
Not having much luck, Micky declared he was heading to bed. Yawning, Davy said he too was heading for bed and made his way to the downstairs bedroom.
Taking one last look at Peter’s form, Mike turned off the lights and went upstairs.
~~~
Mike tossed and turned in his sleep, dreams playing in his head.
“Peter!! Come back!!” Mike cried out, trying to catch his friend.
Peter turned around, blue lines inked in his geometrical tattoos and next to him was a shadowy figure. “I don’t think so, Michael! I have Drax back! He’s all I ever needed. Don’t need you or the others anymore.”
“We do need you, Peter! We do!”
“Bye, Michael!”
Lunging, Mike dove through the disappearing figures and landed on the ground hard.
Clenching his fists, he drove them into the ground. “Noooo!”
“Noo!” Mike yelled as he woke up.
Sweat beading his brow, he took a look around. Micky was still dead to the world.
Wrapping his sheet around him, he padded out the bedroom and looked over the railing.
The soft, low light on top of Peter’s ship form blinked steadily in the low light of the rising sun.
Making his way down the spiral staircase and over to Peter, Mike sat down and leaned against the wood. “Oh, Peter.”
Feeling the humming through the wood change tone, Mike stroked the panels in a gesture of comfort. “Just worried about ya, Shotgun. Not every day ya find out one of yer best friends is a time ship.”
The hum changed tone again, flowing into him like Peter was trying to comfort him.
Mike soaked in the warmth and smiled. “Ya know, don’t think I ever told you I was a foundling, too.”
A confused hum was the answer this time.
“Yeah, Ma found me abandoned as a baby near some old railroad tracks and took me home.”
A sad hum this time.
Mike wrapped his sheet around him tighter. “Tried findin’ my birth parents once, but there wasn't really much to go on. Didn’t have any luck. But that’s okay, found a different type of family, other than my Ma.”
The two continued talking past the sunrise and late into the morning.
Micky and Davy woke up and came out of their bedroom. Wiping the sleep out of their eyes they realized something was different - there was no breakfast cooking, no cheery singing, and a blue box in the corner with a light slowly blinking away...
“So it wasn’t a dream,” Davy said out loud.
“Oh man!” Micky exclaimed as he came up behind Davy.
Then they both blinked at the figure leaning against Peter, talking to him - Mike.
“Have you been here all night?” Davy asked gently as he came to stand in front of Mike.
Mike looked up at both of them and then started to stretch. “Nah, got here a little before sunrise.”
Micky stood in front of Peter. “PETER? CAN. YOU. HEAR. US?”
“Jeeze Mick! Warn a man before you go warblin’ like that!” Mike exclaimed with a grimace as he uncovered his ears.
“But guys, we don’t know if Peter can communicate his needs!” Micky exclaimed worriedly.
Sighing, Mike grabbed Micky’s wrist and slapped the drummer’s hand on the wood.
Eyes went wide as Micky felt a hum go through him. A hum that felt like annoyance and laughter.
“That answer your question Mick?” Mike glared out.
Micky smiled as he continued to feel the hum flow through his body. “Groovy.”
Davy laughed in delight as he felt a similar hum go through his hand and into his body as he touched the blue wood paneling.
The day passed by quickly as they all took turns sitting next to Peter and talking to him.
Micky scanned through the ‘Guide’ Peter had provided him with stopping every so often to ask a question of his wooden friend.
He found that he understood much of Peter's feelings as the modulation of the hum Peter was emitting seemed to mirror his friend's personality.
The light on top continued its steady low light blinking as Davy took over for Micky.
“Hey Peter,” Davy said as he leaned against the wooden panel.
A happy hum flowed through the singer and Davy smiled.
“Don’t know why, but that always makes me feel so energized,” Davy began. “Like I’m getting an extra helping of something.”
The tone changed into a concerned hum.
“It doesn’t feel bad, just different,” Davy reassured his friend.
Moonlight filtered through the windows as Mike took over for Davy. Wrapping himself up in his blanket, Mike took the pillow offered by Micky.
“Staying here throughout the night, Mike?” Micky asked.
“Yeah, don’t feel right leavin’ him out here all alone,” Mike said as he settled down.
As he leaned against Peter, he felt the concerned hum.
And a warmth spread through him. Comfort. Welcome.
Love.
The same love Peter had always fed him -- a brother's love.
Mike smiled. It warmed him from the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes.
“Mike, you okay?” Micky asked as he waved a hand in front of Mike’s face.
“Feel groovy ,” Mike said, a happy, dazed look to his eyes. “You gotta feel this.”
With that said, he grabbed Micky’s wrist and pushed the drummer’s hand against the wood and Micky, too, felt a smile appear on his face as the warmth spread throughout his body as well.
“Guys, what’s going on?” Davy asked as he approached the duo, buttoning up his pyjamas.
“Oh, just feeling that love is the ultimate trip,” Micky said with a grin.
“Wha..?” Davy started, confused, but the look turned into happiness as Micky grabbed hold of the singer’s hand.
Davy felt the warmth and love coming from Peter, through Micky, into himself and gave in.
All three slowly sank into sleep as Peter’s hum changed into one of sheepishness and they literally could feel the ‘Oops’, as their eyes closed and they fell deep into the land of Morpheus.
~~~
Mike was the first one to wake up. The sun was shining brightly through the windows and the guitarist could make out a bird chirping happily from somewhere.
“Stupid bird,” Mike growled out as he stood up on shaky legs.
Looking down, he let out a chuckle. Micky still had a hold of Davy’s hand.
Stretching out the kinks in his body, Mike eyed Peter and noticed the light on top was bright and blinking happily. If a light could blink happily, this one was certainly doing it.
“Fellas, wake up! Something’s goin’ on with Pete, here.” Mike said he nudged the prone bodies with his foot.
Both Micky and Davy woke up, blinking the sleep out of their eyes. Looking down, they let out a yelp as they shook their hands loose.
Scrambling up, they looked at Peter.
The door opened.
Still clad in pyjamas, they crept in cautiously.
Surprise etched on their faces as they found themselves in a recording studio.
“What in the world?” Micky wondered out loud as he looked around.
“It’s bigger on the inside!” Davy exclaimed excitedly.
Mike wandered over to the bandstand that was provided and grinned as he saw copies of their instruments set up. Strapping his guitar on, he ran his fingers through a few chords.
Micky wandered over to the soundboard and looked at the various switches, buttons and dials. “Wonder what this button does?” Finger poised to press, Micky’s eyes went large as Peter’s head appeared.
“AUGH!!!”
Davy and Mike both quickly hurried over to see Peter’s head sitting on top of the sound board.
“Gosh Micky, if you pressed that button, you’d have blown us to kingdom come!” Peter gently admonished with a grin, lightly teasing Micky. He stepped through the equipment and walked right up to the stunned drummer.
“GHOST!!” Davy cried out as he leapt into Mike’s waiting arms.
“P-P-Peter!” Mike stuttered out.
“That’s my name!” Peter grinned.
Micky waved his hand through Peter’s body and watched as the form wavered before settling back into Peter’s shape.
“Don’t do that. It is a little bit hard to keep this hologram up, without you doing that,” Peter said.
Mike put Davy down and walked up to the bassist turned TARDIS. “Hologram?”
“It’s an illusion. . Because you three are inside me, I have to communicate with you somehow.”
Micky scrunched up his face in thought. “So, you’re projecting a fake body we can talk with?”
Peter beamed a smile at him. “Exactly!”
“But, it’s not solid.” Mike stated as he waved his own hand through Peter’s form.
Peter wavered back into focus. “No, it’s not. But in the meantime guys, gotta make a little side trip. This growing TARDIS needs some fuel.”
The doors slammed shut and Peter’s form disappeared.
Several screens attached together were lowered down and Peter’s face appeared on them.
A shudder rippled through the flooring.
“PETER!” The three shouted together.
“Sorry guys, need the fuel…” Peter’s eyes on the screen started to turn glassy and his voice sounded monotone again.
Tossed to the side lightly, they all landed on one another. Mike tried to protect his guitar and ended up landing on Davy.
“OW!” Davy cried out.
They untangled themselves as another shudder went through Peter and they landed hard on the ground.
“Peter! What in tarnation is goin’ on?” Mike cried out.
“Need fuel.”.
“Crap! He’s doing that freaky monotone voice again,” Davy said.
The doors opened and the friends cautiously crept out.
In front of them, was a beach leading down to a beautiful blue ocean.
Mike touched the side of the box. "Peter? ....are you sayin' you need your gas tank filled?"
An affirmative hum filled Mike’s whole being.
"He needs to fill up," Mike said, leaning against the wood.
“This is kidnapping! This is taking us away from our home!” Micky ranted.
“This is called getting a tan!” Davy shot at Micky, as he stripped off his pyjama shirt and rolled up the pant legs of his bottoms.
“Well, yes. There’s that too.” Micky quickly stripped off his top too.
Mike chuckled at their antics and sat in the doorway, content to stay with Peter while they romped.
Glancing back, he noticed something odd on one of the screens.
“I’m gonna head back inside and see if Peter has some sort of map,” Mike said.
They grunted out their agreement as they laid out in the sand to soak up the sun.
Heading inside, Mike walked up the ramp to the recording room and looked at the screen.
Peter’s head was displayed on one of the screens, staring out at nothing.
“Uh, Pete?” Mike asked tentatively.
“Yes, Michael Nesmith?” Came the monotone reply.
Mike sighed. “Guess your personality will come back when you’re fully fuelled up.”
“Affirmative.”
“You got some sort of map?” Mike asked. The lower left screen blinked on and off.
Looking at the screen that showed the map, Mike lightly touched it and took a step back in surprise when it zoomed forward and displayed words.
“Peter,” Mike began in a calm detached voice. “Why are we in the Bermuda Triangle?”
Peter’s head had a professor hat appear on it and glasses perched on his nose. “The Bermuda Triangle is one of ten rifts in time and space that provide me with necessary fuel.”
“Why this one?” Mike asked, intently studying the screen.
“It was the safest one.”
"The Bermuda Triangle. Safe."
“Yes, it is safe, Michael,” Peter said.
A little bell sounded in the room.
“I’m at full capacity once again. Re-engaging personality mode.”
Mike watched as the room darkened and then lit up once again.
Peter’s illusion flickered into being once again. “Much better! Oh, it feels so good to be in full working order once again.”
“You’re you again?” Mike asked hesitantly.
“Of course, Mike! I don’t like shutting my personality off, but if I have to save power to keep you three alive, I’ll shut off whatever is necessary to keep all of you breathing.” A protective look settled on Peter’s gentle face.
“Just as long as you come back to us, Shotgun.” An equally protective look appeared on Mike’s face as well.
“Well, let’s gather up the others and head home,” Peter grinned.
Mike shared the grin and stuck his head out the door. “C’mon you two, Pete says it’s time to head home!”
They trotted in, Micky snagging both shirts as they did so.
Doors shutting, they barely felt anything as Peter materialized into the Time Vortex.
“Hey, Peter?” Davy asked.
“Yes, Davy?” Peter replied as he held up a hand and moved it up and down in front of Mike.
“What are you doing?”
“Scanning each of you to make sure you’re healthy,” Peter began. “You’re my responsibility while inside me. I want to make sure everything is okay with each and every one of you.” He then started to scan Davy.
“Oh, okay,” Davy said. “Hey, Peter?”
Peter smiled and replied fondly. “Yes, Davy?”
“Why does your ship form look like a nineteen fifties police call box?”
“Oh! Well, Drax had a bit of a sense of humour. He had this friend called The Doctor…” Peter said.
“Doctor Who?” Mike asked.
“Just The Doctor,” Peter smiled. “He had a Type-40 TARDIS in this shape. So as a joke, Drax asked me to take this form to trick The Doctor in thinking I was his TARDIS.”
“And did it work?” Micky grinned, always happy to hear about a practical joke that worked.
Peter chuckled. “It did. Oh he was so mad at Drax when he figured it out!” Satisfied with Davy’s health, the blond moved onto Micky.
“Sounds like the two were close,” Mike said.
“They were. I think Drax was one of the few Timelord friends The Doctor had,” Peter said sadly.
“Ah,” Micky said with a wise tone as he watched Peter continue scanning him.
“Hmmm,” Peter hummed as he frowned.
“What’s with the frown there, Peter? Do I have an incurable disease I can woo the ladies with?” Micky grinned.
Peter looked at Micky and then started a more invasive scan.
Micky giggled. “Easy there Peter, that tickles!”
“Somethin’ wrong with him, Peter?” Mike asked as he and Davy moved to either side of Micky.
Shutting the scan off, Peter looked at Micky. “Well, that was something I wasn’t expecting.”
“What? Am I gonna die? Give it to me straight, Peter. How many days do I have left to live?!” Micky howled as he faked his death and fell into Davy’s waiting arms.
“Alas, poor Micky, we knew him well,” Davy theatrically sighed as Mike fanned Micky’s face.
Peter rolled his eyes. “You are not going to die, Micky.”
Micky sprang back to life as he surged forward, out of Davy’s arms. “Well, that’s relief. So what’s wrong with me then?”
“Well...youhavealienbloodinsideofyou,” Peter said frantically.
Mike blinked. "Say that again, Shotgun? Slower?"
Taking a deep breath, Peter looked into Micky’s eyes. “You have alien blood inside of you.”
Micky blinked hard. “What?”
“Well, the best I can determine is some of your ancestor’s must’ve been aliens who crash landed on earth and blended in,” Peter said. “You’re still you, Micky, your blood is just a little - unique.”
“I can’t have alien blood inside of me, Peter!” Micky growled out.
“Why not?”
“Because I look like a human being!”
Peter looked hurt here. “I look like a human being too, sometimes; does that mean I don’t have anything alien inside of me?”
Seeing as how they were INSIDE Peter at the time, that was like a slap of cold water.
Micky sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Peter.”
“Then what did you mean?” Peter asked confused. “You’re still you. Still Micky.”
Micky shot a look at Mike, eyes asking him if he could do anything.
“Do we know what alien species his ancestors came from?” Mike spoke up.
A machine rose from the floor with a hand indent on the main panel.
“What does this do?” Micky glanced at it from all sides.
“Just takes a small bit of blood, I run it through my database and presto! Find out what species your ancestors were,” Peter grinned.
“It’s okay, Micky, whatever Peter’s databases find, you’re still our friend and still you,” Davy smiled at the drummer.
“Ditto to what he said,” Mike said as he pointed at Davy.
Peter grinned at Micky.
“Right, I can dig that,” Micky said as he put his hand into the indent.
The Monkees watched various alien life forms roll past them on the screens. Ones with tentacles, blobs of various coloured goos and even insects. It finally settled on a figure that was very pale with huge slanted brown eyes and brown hair.
Underneath the picture, there were huge words that scrolled across. MIMIC.
Micky just stared. The others stared at Micky.
"That.....fits," Mike breathed. "That's how come you can do those voices and look so different in all those disguises..."
“They’re traveling performers in the Quotax Galaxy,” Peter began. “Guess some of them slipped through one of the rifts here on Earth.”
“Nana always said we came from Circus stock,” Micky breathed as he touched the screen.
Davy mouthed ‘Rifts?’ and looked at Mike with a questioning look.
‘Tell you later!’ Mike mouthed back.
“And we’re home!” Peter exclaimed happily as his doors opened.
Mike heard a ringing and quickly hurried down the ramp into The Pad, picking up the phone.
"I'd like to speak to Michael Nesmith," a strange voice replied when he picked it up.
“This is him,” Mike replied.
“I’m calling on behalf of your Mother. She’s currently in the County Hospital.”
“What? Is she all right?” Mike gripped the phone handle as Micky and Davy came up behind him. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She was admitted last night, complaining about mild chest pains,” The strange voice continued. “Now sir, it was not a heart attack, but she did put some strain on her heart, due to a cold she’s been fighting the past two weeks.”
“How did the cold put a strain on her heart?” Mike managed to get out.
“Coughing. The cold had her coughing almost twenty-four seven. It was enough to put the strain on her heart and worry her,” the voice said. “She gave us your phone number. She’s on a round of antibiotics to help fight her cold and can be released in a few hours. She just needs to be picked up and have someone stay with her, while she recovers.”
"I'll be there as soon as I can." Mike hung up and he would wonder for awhile why the first thing he did was go lean against Peter's solid wooden side. "....Mama's heart's strained."
Comfort and worry flowed into Mike as he leaned against Peter wooden form.
Davy and Micky looked at one another and grabbed Mike by the arms.
“Hey! Let go guys!! I gotta get to the airport! Gotta book a flight!” Mike protested as he was dragged into Peter.
The door shut quickly behind them and they were once more flying through the Time Vortex.
Peter's hologram looked up at him. "We'll be there five hours after you got the phone call."
Mike just looked confused. “Why five hours? Why can’t we just appear now?”
“Michael, you just phone and they probably know you live on the other side of the states. It’ll look very suspicious and weird if we show up now. It just makes more sense to arrive a few hours later on,.” Peter gently smiled at him.
"You guys, I didn't -- you didn't have to come...."
"Of course we did. We're family." Peter's head tilted. "We're landing."
“You guys go get Mrs. Nesmith checked out, Peter and I will handle the transportation,” Micky said as he made shooing motions at Mike and Davy.
“Should I be worried?” Mike smiled faintly as Davy dragged him out of the ship.
Micky turned to face Peter, “Your form can shift, right?”
Peter smiled brightly at him.
~~~
“Now Michael, you don’t need to fuss! It was only a little cold!” Mrs. Nesmith said batting Mike's hand away as he tried to help settle her into the wheelchair
“A little cold that strained your heart and landed you in the hospital, Mama,” Mike shot back.
Davy watched on amused as two Texans went head to head in stubbornness.
Davy carefully pushed the wheelchair that the older woman was in, as he watched Mike fussed. Papa Nez strikes again.
Mike continued fussing at his Mother, but stopped short at the sight that greeted them outside the hospital.
There, was the Monkeemobile, with Micky leaning against the passenger door with a huge grin on his face.
Mike blinked, but pushed his mother toward the large red car. "How did you..." he asked Micky once she was secure.
“Peter.” Micky whispered back as he climbed into the passenger seat. Davy was sitting in the backseat making sure Mrs. Nesmith was okay.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, Mike brushed his hand against the dashboard and whispered, “Peter?”
The horn honked.
Mrs. Nesmith started at it. "CAREFUL, Michael! We’re not even out of the parkin’ lot and you’re already honkin’ at things.”
“Sorry Mama, my hand slipped,” Mike said as he turned the key in the ignition.
The car rumbled to life.
Pulling out of the hospital, Mike drove them to his mother's house.
~~~
Davy and Micky helped Mrs. Nesmith inside, and Mike got out of the car, staring at it with huge eyes. "Peter?" he whispered.
The trunk popped open and four bags were tossed out.
Watching with huge eyes, Mike saw the car shift and transform into Peter.
Hand on forehead, Peter stumbled slightly into Mike. “Haven’t done that in a long time.”
“How in the world did you do that, Shotgun?” Mike asked, as he helped steady the bassist.
“I can shift forms, Michael. And you needed something to get your Mother home.” Peter looked up with a smile.
Mike hugged him close, thumping his back. He was not normally demonstrative, but the last few days had been one emotional shock after another.
Peter hugged him back.
“Michael! Stop feelin’ up the poor boy and get in here!” came a yell from inside the house.
Mike and Peter quickly let go of one another, before bursting into laughter.
Gathering up the bags, they trudged into the house.
“I was not ‘feelin’ up the poor boy’, Mama,” Mike said with a scowl as he saw his mother sitting in the chair. “Was thankin’ him for bringing the bags. We left him at the airport in a rush to come get you.”
“I made sure to get the bags, catch a taxi and meet everyone here,” Peter said.
“And that nice car that you boys had? Where is it?” Mrs. Nesmith eyed them all.
“Oh, one of the employees from the car rental place came with me, Mrs. Nesmith. Picked up the car and drove it back to their company,” Peter said with a smile. “Now, why don’t we get you lying down, so you can get better more quickly.”
Mrs. Nesmith allowed herself to be blindsided by Peter Tork’s charm and led upstairs.
“Am I ever glad he’s on our side,” Davy side whispered to Micky and Mike.
“Uh-huh,” The two agreed.
Half an hour later had the others unpacked in the spare rooms and Peter came down the stairs.
“Well, she’s resting comfortably,,” Peter said with a grin.
“Thanks, Peter.” Mike smiled gratefully.
And the four shared a quick group hug before they started to quickly unpack.
~~~
All four spent the next week cleaning, cooking and anything else Mrs. Nesmith threw at them.
Peter cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner, while Micky fixed the various appliances around the house. Mike stayed with his mother most of the time and Davy helped out with all three of them.
“Michael, you’ve been here too long. Go do somethin’ before you start to ferment,” Mrs. Nesmith said on one of her more coherent days. The medication she was taking, made her drowsy, so on her good days, she usually ordered the boys about.
“Could always finally get to the barn and clean the junk outta there,” Mike mused.
“Halleluah! It only took you about five years to do so,” She said with a smile.
“I’ll get right on it, Mama.” Mike kissed his mother on the forehead and headed downstairs.
Micky was tinkering with the toaster while Peter and Davy were playing a card game.
“Davy, you mind sitting with Mama? Mick, Peter, got a little job for us to do.”
“Sure, Mike. No problem,” Davy said as he abandoned the card game and headed upstairs.
Micky and Peter followed Mike outside.
“So what job are we exactly doing, Mike?” Micky asked.
“Cleaning the barn out,” Mike said as he opened the heavy wooden doors.
Micky sneezed at the dust.
Waving a hand in front of his face, Peter shooed away the dust particles. “When was the last time this place was cleaned, Michael?”
“Um, you know, I don’t rightly know.”.
“Ohohoh!! I call those boxes!” Micky said with a grin as he dove towards the boxes, marked, ‘Michael’s Toys’.
They slowly made their way through the boxes., Peter and Micky would hold up various toys; while Mike entertained them with a story about each of them.
Soon, they made their way to the bottom of the boxes when Micky pulled out a silver looking fob watch. Holding it up by its chain, he twisted it front of him. Geometrical designs were engraved on the metal.
"Hey, Peter?" he asked suddenly. "Aren't these the same designs as on your tattoos?"
"WIll you look at that?" Mike took the watch from Micky.
Peter’s eyes went huge as he recognized the watch. Mike pressed the realease even as Peter tried to stop him.
Gold, yellowish light escaped from the watch and entered into Mike’s eyes, mouth and nose.
Micky and Peter watched helplessly as the light soon escaped from every pore of Mike’s skin. A scream erupted from his throat and almost as soon as it had begun, it ended.
Quickly scrambling over the various toys, Peter landed next to Mike’s body and grabbed his shoulders. “Michael? Michael?”
Micky watched Peter try and wake Mike up, with little success.
Chocolate brown eyes soon opened and blinked a couple of times. Hand rising up, it cupped Peter’s cheek. “Proto?”
Peter’s eyes went huge at that statement and he watched the hand fall limply back to his friend’s side and the eyes slide close once more.
“Drax...” Peter whispered.
THE END.