Reflections

5

"Shh, shh, he's waking up."

Those were the first words, Mike heard as he shifted around, beginning to come back to his senses. He felt someone take his hand and squeeze it as his eyes began to flutter open.

"Hey," Peter said with a soft smile. "How're you feeling?"

Mike shrugged and looked at his surroundings. He was back in his own bed again.

"Are you okay?" Davy asked, standing in the doorway.

Mike groaned and slowly sat up. Everything felt stiff. He sighed and put on a smile.

"I'm fine," he whispered, not able to say anything louder. "Don't worry about me."

Davy scoffed and shook his head.

"Don't worry about you..." he repeated, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Mike, you blacked out and wouldn't wake up for hours! How do you expect us not to worry?"

"I'm fine," Mike defended. "I was just stressed."

"I'm sorry," Peter said gently. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Mike shook his head. Peter sighed but nodded.

"Okay," he said, squeezing Mike's hand again. "We won't force you to talk right now, but we'll be here when you're ready."

"Peter, it's..." he started, unsure of where the sentence would go. "It's complicated. I can't just-"

"It's fine," Peter smiled. "Really, I understand. If you wanna talk, I'll be here and I'll try my best to understand it. That's what friends are for."

Mike bit his lip and nodded slowly, already feeling incredibly guilty. If he didn't feel bad before, he absolutely did now.

"There's still cake and presents and stuff downstairs," Peter said, pulling away from him. "If you want them, of course."

"We wanted to wait until you were feeling better before we did anything," Davy added. "Micky hasn't even touched the cake."

Mike smiled slightly.

"You didn't have to do that," he said sadly.

"No, we did," Peter said and Mike could hear Davy let out a laugh.

"If Micky so much as saw the cake before you came to, there wouldn't have been any left by the time you were ready for some."

Mike laughed and nodded.

"Good thing I'm not much of a cake person to begin with," he said as he looked around the room, noticing one missing presence.

"Wh-where's Micky...?" He asked, already beginning to become frightened.

"It's okay," Peter whispered, going back to comfort him. "He just went on a walk a little while ago. He should be back here pretty soon."

"Yeah," Davy agreed with a slight nod. "He's fine."

Mike let out a breath of relief.

"Okay, good..." he said softly, laying back down in bed.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Peter asked, worried again. Mike nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he yawned. "Just tired."

-----------------

Micky had gone into town and was looking into the windows of all the little shops and such that was there. For a Friday night, the city was suspiciously empty. There was practically no one on the streets but yet, all the shop windows were still lit.

He was on his way back to the pad when he bumped into someone.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said instinctively, about to turn the other way but was stopped. He could feel as someone behind him grabbed his arm tightly, pulling him aside. The person held his arm tightly up against his back as a voice whispered in his ear.

"You're friends with Michael Nesmith, yes?" The voice asked and Micky tried his best to get out of the man's grip, only to have his other arm taken as well.

"I don't know any Michael Nesmith," he lied, already fearing the worst if he said the truth. The man growled.

"You lie," he muttered and Micky shrugged.

"Honestly, I don't know who you're talking about," he said calmly. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

Suddenly another person came in front of him and reached in his pocket. He pulled out a picture and held it right up to Micky's eyes. It was of the four of them all eating at the restaurant. Micky gulped.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Let's just say that Nesmith is an...an old friend of ours," the man in front of Micky explained. "We go way back."

"You are going to help us find Nesmith, or else..."

Micky tensed up as he felt something sharp against his neck.

"H-honestly, I don't know who you're talking about!" He yelped, trying to stick with that story. "I don't know any Nesmith."

"Mr. Dolenz, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Micky's eyes went wide as he frowned, already plotting his next few moves.

"Do I have a choice?"

"The hard way or the easy way, Mr. Dolenz," the man in front of him said. "That is your choice. Make it now."

"I really need some more time to think, if that's alright with you..." he shrugged.

"Now." The man ordered, making a slight incision on Micky's chin with the knife. Micky cried out in pain, only to be stopped when the hand went over his mouth. He whimpered slightly.

"Now," the man in front of him said, now crossing his arms. "I'll ask you again."

"Hmm hmph hmm hmmph hmm hmm hmpgh!" Micky muffled. The hand quickly was removed from his mouth and he took a few deep breaths before he could speak again.

"But you didn't ask me anything."

"A smart-ass, aye?"

Micky could feel something hit back but he frowned, standing his ground.

"I don't know any Nesmith," he said sternly. "And I'm gonna call the cops if you don't let me go."

"You're lying," the man said, approaching him.

"Honestly, I'm not," he said, hoping his lie would work. "Now if you just let me go, I won't do anything, I won't call the cops or anything. We can just pretend it never happened."

The man frowned.

"You go home to Nesmith, you tell him nothing, you bring him to us, and no one gets hurt," he said. "Is that a fair deal?"

"But I told you, I don't know-"

"You do," the man said harshly. "Don't lie to me again or I'll kill you."

"What if I don't bring him to you?" Micky asked, now terrified. The man shrugged.

"Then I kill you and take him by force, myself."

The man held out his hand and Micky was released from the grip.

"Do we have a deal?"

There was no other choice.

"Fine," Micky said, shaking his hand. "We have a deal."