Taking the Path

Author's Note: This is an episode tag for the Monkee Mayor episode.

"Mike? Mike! Where are you?"

Micky dashed into the pad, his eyes frantically searching. There was no answer from anyone which caused his heart to pound even faster. He went upstairs and looked in the bedroom he shared with the Texan. Having had no luck, he went back down and looked everywhere else around the pad with no success. When he realized that there was no one there, Micky put a hand to his mouth and chewed on the edges of his nails.

A few minutes ago, he had been hanging out at a record store he and the rest of the guys liked to go to for the latest music. He had run into two of the members of the Pelicans who had supported their efforts to oust the mayor and get Mike elected in his place. At first, they congratulated them on getting Mike into office, but that cheer quickly dissipated and was replaced by an uncomfortable quiet.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Micky asked. "You guys said you voted for Mike. He'll make things better around here. You'll see."

"Hey man, we totally buy that," one of them said. "That's why we voted for him. It's just…."

"The old mayor had some powerful people behind him, Micky," the other one said. "You've heard of Zeckenbush?"

"Oh sure, but it's no problem," Micky said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Mike's exposed him and now he's in jail. And we won by a landslide, man! There's nothing Zeckenbush can do now."

"That isn't what we heard," the first one had said. "A couple friends of ours were talking. Zeckenbush might be in jail, but he's still got people on the outside and access to a lot of dough. We heard that he might try to get back at you guys for what you did. Mike in particular."

"Watch your backs," the other one warned. "And tell Mike to be extra careful or he might not make it to his first day of work."

At first, Micky continued to downplay any concerns that they had, but then he started to think back to the campaign. He remembered that there were a few goons hanging around the shadows and alleyways wherever Mike went. One of them had even managed to get close to the Texan, shaking his hand in a grip that brought Mike to his knees. It occurred to Micky that, if they could follow Mike around while he was out meeting with the people, it wouldn't be any stretch for them to follow him back to their home. Especially given how their pad had been visited once before and was trashed.

It was then that Micky remembered that Davy and Peter had gone to visit a pair of sisters that Davy had met last week. Mike would be by himself at the pad right now.

The drummer had immediately rushed home. He had no idea what he possibly do on his own if any of Zeckenbush's thugs had decided to pay a visit, but he also knew that he couldn't let Mike face whatever happened by himself.

Micky moved his hand from his face and took a shaky breath. Mike had said that he wanted to spend some time with their music before he had to worry about his new duties as mayor and thus, had had no plans on going out that day. The fact that Micky couldn't hear the Texan's voice or the distinct strumming of one of his guitars created a tight ball of fear at the pit of his stomach.

'Maybe he went for a walk along the beach,' he tried to tell himself. 'Mike sometimes does that when he's got a lot on his mind.'

Micky walked over the balcony to see if he could spy Mike outside. Just as he had walked outside, he heard a shrill shriek from the beach below. Micky clambered down the steps to find a group of girls huddled around something near the rocks. He pushed his way through, his heart dropping as soon as he discovered what had upset them.

There, on craggy stretch of rocks, was Mike. The Texan's face was bruised, his lip split. His body was still and was lying in an awkward position. However, it was the large puddle of blood and flesh near his head that had told the complete story…and that explained the clouded, lifeless stare in those dark brown eyes.

"He must have fallen off the balcony," one of the girls said, pointing up.

"Or jumped," another one added. "How awful."

"Someone needs to call someone," a third girl said. "The police or something. Someone has to report this."

"Hey," one of the girls said, grabbing Micky's arm. "Did you know him?"

Micky nodded dully, silently stumbling down onto his knees next to Mike. It was clear to him what had happened. Zeckenbush had had his revenge all right. And Mike had paid the ultimate price for foiling his plans.

Micky reached for the Texan's arm. Instead of the usual comforting strength and warmth he had always felt from Mike, there was only a cold, rigid sensation. Then his brain finally registered the scene in front of him. People still talked all around him, but all he could hear was a broken gasping sound.

It took almost a minute for him to realize that that sound was coming from him.

"Mike," he sobbed. "No! No, you…. Mike, please, I…."

Micky let himself fall forward, his face landing against Mike's shoulder. Inwardly, he begged whatever powers might exist to spare the Texan, even though he knew it was too late. Outwardly, all he could do was cry even more.

'It's my fault,' he told himself. 'If I hadn't pressured Mike to run for mayor…. We could have found another way. We could have done something, anything else. Anything but….'

"Mike, I'm sorry," he wept out loud. "I'm sorry. I…I…."

"Mike!"

"Mike!"

Micky gasped and sat up. He blinked his eyes several times, trying to see in the darkened room he was in. It took him a couple minutes, but he eventually realized that he was in his bed and that it was nighttime. He ran a hand over his face as he shoved his blankets aside.

'A dream….it was just a stupid dream,' he told himself. 'That's right…Mike didn't win. He withdrew from the race. And then that weasel of a mayor finally decided to do something about Zeckenbush. Mike's not mayor. And he's not….'

Micky's gaze fell onto the bed next to his, his breath catching in his throat. The bed was empty with no sign of the Texan anywhere in the room. Ordinarily, this was not an unusual event. Micky knew from experience that Mike would sometimes get up in the middle of night when he had trouble sleeping. But this time, the vestiges of the nightmare he had just had ignited the morbid parts of the drummer's imagination.

'Mike? Where is he? Wait…what if Zeckenbush's goons got him anyway? They could have snuck in here and kidnapped him while we were sleeping.'

'Mike…!'

Micky jumped out of bed and ran out of the bedroom. He slid down the banister of the spiral staircase and started to look around the pad. He felt nauseous as the fears he had felt during his dream began to return.

He was just about to call for the others when a faint strumming caught his ear. He walked over to the balcony, toward the source of the sound. There, he found Mike, hair mussed and clad in the purple paisley pajamas Micky had bought him for Christmas, lounging in a chair facing the beach with his guitar resting in his lap. Mike seemed to be looking at some distant point in the water while his fingers languidly plucked the guitar strings, guided by a tune only his mind knew by heart.

Micky grabbed the edge of a chair, his legs suddenly too shaky to hold him up. He tried to bite back the sob of relief that had risen up from inside him, but had not been able to stop it from escaping his lips.

Mike stopped playing and swiveled his head around to look at him. Then he carefully sat his guitar down and stood up.

"Micky?" he drawled. "Aw man, I'm sorry if my playing woke you up. I just couldn't sleep."

Micky let out a ragged laugh. He had just had one of the worst nightmares of his entire life and had been scared that some terrible fate had befallen Mike and now Mike was standing there apologizing for doing the very thing that had let him know that none of it was real.

"Mick?" Mike repeated, taking a step toward him. "Hey, are you all right? What's wrong, babe?"

A joke to lighten the mood was on the tip of Micky's tongue, but it fell away as quickly as it had come to him. The only thing he could focus on was the proof standing in front of him that his nightmares had been just that: bad dreams that meant nothing.

And the only response that made sense to him was to rush over and throw his arms around the Texan. Initially, Mike seemed startled by the spontaneous show of affection, but he soon reciprocated it with a hug of his own, patting Micky's back in a comforting gesture.

"Mick," he repeated yet again. "What's goin' on? And don't try to say nothing because we both know that ain't true."

Micky sighed and let go of Mike. He didn't really want to talk about his dream and decided to go with something else that had been on his mind.

"It's noth—it's no big deal," the drummer shrugged. "It's just…I know we wanted you to win and all, but I'm just really glad it all worked out the way it did."

"Oh," Mike said, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah, well, I guess you're right about that." The dejected gesture did not escape Micky's notice.

"Hey babe, you're ok with how it turned out, right?" he asked. Mike shrugged again and sank back into the chair he had been sitting in. Micky sat down on the floor next to him.

"I suppose I am," Mike said. "Being mayor, well that's a heavy job, and I don't know if I would have been cut out for it."

"Hey, are you kidding?" Micky said. "You would've been great. You wouldn't have let someone like Zeckenbush push you around and convince you to turn the city into parking lots."

"Yeah…but that don't mean that he couldn't have found some other way to trick me into doin' what he wanted," Mike said. "He did a pretty good job of that just the same, making me think that people were actually sending me money so I'd win. I should've known better. "

Micky winced. He had also been fooled by Zeckenbush's scheme and had let his excitement run away with him. Mike, on the other hand, had expressed some doubts about it at the start. Micky knew that Mike would never say it, but he was certain that Mike would have continued to be more skeptical if not for the rest of them pressuring the Texan into thinking that they had had a major windfall.

"Probably just as well I pulled out while I could," Mike continued. "Honestly, I don't know why y'all picked me to run in the first place."

"You really mean that, Mike?" Micky goggled at him. "You really don't know?"

Micky continued to stare at him, his face reflecting the sincerity in his questions. Mike studied his expression for a moment before the meaning behind the drummer's words finally sank in. The Texan's cheeks reddened slightly.

"Mick, I…." Mike said, turning away. "It means a lot to me, it really does. Y'all believing in me the way you do, but I, um…it ain't the same, you know. Running a rock 'n roll group and bein' mayor."

"Well sure, some of it's different," Micky replied. "As mayor, you'd work a whole lot less for the money with the flipside being that you'd have to actually pay for the groupies."

"Mick," Mike said, turning back toward him with a smirk on his face. Micky chuckled and rocked back and forth.

"Ok, so maybe you'd never held an office before, but so what?" he continued. "It's not like the guys in charge were any good at what they did. I'm sure you could have done just as good as them at the very least."

"Oh, that's a real vote of confidence," Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"You know what I mean," Micky responded. "Seriously Mike, we chose you because you're all the things the mayor we got isn't…and that's more than good enough for us or anyone else out there."

Mike ducked his head again. Micky knew that Mike was easily embarrassed by people complimenting him and had hoped that his comments were not making the Texan too uncomfortable.

"Micky," Mike mumbled. "I, I don't, I don't know what to say…."

"Say that you would have made me your executive assistant," Micky quipped. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be one of those guys with the little notepads who hung out in limos and bars with some big shot. It's the least you could have done after all that work I did as your campaign manager."

Mike laughed and Micky relished the sound. In his mind, Mike didn't laugh anywhere near as much as he should. Thus, it was always a joy for Micky when he could get a laugh out of the frequently stoic Texan.

However, it wasn't long before the laughter died down and Mike became more somber again, his gaze turning back toward the ocean.

"Micky, I, uh," he said. "I…y'all worked really hard to get me elected. And I get why you did it, but I don't know if I wanted it and…. And I'm sayin' that a part of me is glad that I didn't win too."

"Really?" Micky said, astonished. "But why?"

"Because I didn't want to leave you," Mike said softly. "You and Davy and Peter. I didn't want to leave the group to go be mayor."

Micky blinked hard. In all their running around to get Mike elected, it hadn't occurred to him that that could have been one of the consequences of their winning. Now that it had been said, Micky couldn't help but feel clueless for not thinking of it before.

"Aw Mike, you wouldn't have left us, man," Micky said, getting up on his knees and scooting closer to the Texan. "I already said that I would have been your executive assistant, right? We could have had Davy take care of any publicity you needed to do and Peter…well Pete would have been our gopher."

"Gopher?" Mike said, scrunching up his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Go for this. Go for that," Micky said. "You know the drill. And we'd all be there in your office, sending out for sandwiches and having the secretaries screen our calls. Hey, maybe we could have had one of those chicks come in and do our nails and stuff."

"Micky…."

"Nah, you're right, that's too out there," Micky said with a wave of his hand. "But definitely a go on the screening calls and sandwiches thing. It'd have been nice to not have to worry about eating for a change. Oooo and we could have been those people who go to restaurants and get 'our usual table'. You know, I've always wanted to ask for that."

"Micky," Mike repeated, a wry smile on his face. Micky grinned back and squeezed Mike's arm.

"I'm just saying that, we might not have been able to play as a group for a while, but you wouldn't have been leaving us," he said. "There's no way we would have let that happen. Sure, the music is a major thing, and we would have missed it. But that's not the only thing between us, right?"

"No," Mike said. "It sure isn't."

Warmth lit up the Texan's eyes as Micky patted his shoulder. The drummer was glad that Mike seemed to be in a better mood now, but he knew that there was one more thing he needed to do before he could let the things preying on his mind go.

"Mike, I, I'm sorry," he said, bowing his head. "I'm sorry for pushing you into running for mayor."

"Aw man, you didn't push me into anything," Mike assured him. "We needed a way to help out our neighbors. That plan was as good as any."

"Yeah, but I should have asked you first," Micky insisted. "And I, I just didn't think about how all this could have affected you. I didn't think about people like Zeckenbush who would try to go after you and…."

Realizing that he was just about to reveal what had driven him to nightmares in the first place, Micky abruptly stopped talking. However, the look in Mike's eyes told him that it was already too late.

"Is that what that whole thing was about before?" Mike said as he arched an eyebrow. "About what Zeckenbush might have done to me?"

Micky frowned and let out a giant sigh. He had hoped that Mike had forgotten about his behavior from earlier. However, as usual, Mike had gotten to the heart of what had been bothering him anyway.

Suddenly, he felt an arm around his shoulders and looked up to see Mike staring at him.

"Micky, even if that guy had tried something, it wouldn't have been your fault, all right?" he said. "I know by now that there's always some risk involved in all these crazy schemes we keep getting into. And it would have been no different this time. It don't make no difference to me because it's not goin' to stop me from doin' what needs to be done."

"Yeah, I know, but…."

"No, but nothing, Micky," he cut in. "I can take care of myself. And if I can't…well I know y'all have my back if I can't. Now, I'm sorry that you were worrying so much, but you can't dwell on it, babe. It's over and you've got to let it go."

"I know, I know," Micky sighed again. "But you know me. I get scared over anything and everything. Shouldn't be surprising that I get scared over a bunch of stuff that never happened too. I mean, isn't that dumb?"

Mike pulled him closer, causing the drummer to look up at him.

"Don't Mick," he said, his tone quiet but serious. "Don't be putting yourself down that way. We all get scared. You're just not afraid to let it show. And it's never dumb to be worried about each other. I'm always worryin' about y'all. Sometimes, I can't sleep I get so worried."

"I'm sorry, Mike," Micky said again.

"It ain't nothing for you to apologize for," Mike countered. "I'm just tellin' you that it's not dumb to be afraid. But you still need to let it go, babe."

"All right," Micky nodded. "I'll try."

"Good," Mike said. "Now, it's getting late. We should probably go back to bed."

"Man, there's no way I could sleep now," Micky said. "I need something to eat. Hey, we've still got some ham and stuff in the fridge, right? Let's make a midnight snack."

"Micky, it's two in the morning."

"A two am snack?" Micky said. "Come on, Mike, I'm starving. And you know that there's no point in trying to sleep while you're hungry."

"I suppose not," Mike said with a rueful chuckle. "All right, maybe I'll join you."

Micky clapped his hands and jumped up to his feet to follow Mike in the kitchen. He wasn't entire sure if it was a good idea to eat so late at night, but right now he didn't care.

A bit of indigestion was a small price to pay for what he felt now…and how he knew he would feel for the rest of the night.