"I don't understand why you feel th' need to watch," Mike groused. He was careful, dragging the razor up the underside of his chin. "It's shaving. It's a basic process."

His twin, Sugar, gave a shrug from her perch on the back of the commode. "I dunno. Sometimes, I kinda miss the sideburns." She ran a hand over her cheek, then looked back at Mike, who stood shirtless at the wash basin. She snickered. "Geez, I was hairy, wasn't I?"

Mike's eyes boggled. "Watch it, you." He bopped his sister on the nose, leaving a small blob of shaving cream behind. She quickly ran her sleeve over her face. The two traded a smirk before Mike returned to the task at hand.

"You guys are doing it again," Micky said as he passed by the open bathroom door.

"Doin' what?" came the chorus of a response.

Micky stopped to face them, arms crossed. "There's this…look you two give each other. Like you're up to something." He narrowed his eyes at them. "It's weird."

"You're weird." Shug pitched a roll of toilet paper at the curly-haired drummer, bouncing it off the top of his head.

"HEY! That's not fair!"

"That's at least a hundred points in Monkeeball," the girl grinned. She turned to her brother, who had a partial glimpse of the move in the bathroom mirror. "What do you think, Mike?"

The boy paused from his work around his sideburns and considered the play. "Well… That's a good two hundred since you launched it straight from the bathroom. That's a tricky move."

Shug crossed her arms and looked smugly at Micky.

"But," Mike went on, "since TP seems to get a little more valuable when th' rent's due, I gotta deduct fifty points."

"What?"

"Hah!" Micky launched the roll right back at the lanky girl, pelting her in the forehead. The roll bounced to the floor behind Mike. "Two hundred for Dolenz on the return pass!"

Sugar climbed off the toilet tank and grabbed the roll of paper. "Why you—"

Mike, half-laughing and half-exasperated, grabbed his sister by the shoulders. "Alright, alright, let's take this to a bigger playin' field before I cut my throat over a foul ball." He shoved her out of the little room and closed the door.

Sugar and Micky looked at each other a moment before the bathroom door opened again. Without a word, Mike approached Shug and plucked the paper from her hands before returning to the room.

"I still get two hundred points," Micky insisted.

"Team Nez is still ahead by about a billion," Shug retaliated. She stuck her tongue out at him. Micky returned the gesture.

Davy and Peter were both tending to the stoppered-up sink. The English boy could only shake his head at his older bandmates. "So glad to be surrounded by such mature adults."

"Thank you!" Peter straightened, beaming from ear to ear.

A series of short, light knocks could be heard from the door. There was no time for anyone to answer it before it opened and a mop of blonde hair peered around the edge.

"Heya, boys! Anyone home?"

Four voices cheered in unison. "Millie!"

The older woman stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other carrying a parcel. "Two doors down and you still can't come visit? What, are all your legs broken?" She gave them a broad smile. "How are my boys?"

Chatter had begun among them as Mike emerged from the bathroom to join everyone. Millie glanced at him, then did a full double-take. "Wait a second—How'd you change clothes so fast?"

Mike and his twin traded an embarrassed look. He straightened his hair, out of nervous habit. "Millie…I'd like you to meet my sister, Sugar." He took the girl by the hand and pulled her to his side.

Shug twiddled her fingers in a small wave. "Hi, Millie." Of course, she already knew Millie, but memories of her stay as a tenant in the Pad, of the successful match made between Larry the moving man and the now former Mrs. Rudnick, of the raucous wedding reception following, were all tucked neatly into the back of Shug's mind. Those were still Mike's memories, not completely her own. For all intents and purposes, Shug was meeting Millie for the first time.

Millie's eyes darted between the pair of Texans and her smile broadened. "Look at you kids. You're like two peas in a pod!" She patted them both on the cheek, hand lingering a moment, almost wistful. "Y'know, my Herman and I always wanted kids. Twins would have been perfect…" Her smile faltered a moment before she directed her eyes to the floor.

Shug made a grab for Millie's hand and held it in both of hers. She was at a loss of what to actually say to the woman, but hoped that maybe her gesture was enough, awkward as it seemed. Millie patted Shug's arm with her free hand, her smile restored. "You're a good girl, Sugar."

Micky swung an arm over Millie's shoulder. "So, Auntie Millie, what brings you around these parts?"

"Does Larry need help moving stuff again?" Peter laughed.

Millie's face brightened. "Funny you should mention that…"

The boys and Shug each took a step back. "Now, Millie, we can't work…pro…pro…" Mike struggled to find the right word. It was on the tip of his tongue, but still lodged somewhere behind his eyeteeth.

Peter anxiously raised his hand. "Ooo, I know this! We can't work Sonny Bono?"

"That's close enough," Micky said, patting the blonde on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, boys," Millie beamed. "It's not your typical moving job. See, Larry and I are sort of…cleaning house and we were thinking of donating some of our old furniture." Her eyes scanned the beach house's main living area before meeting with each of its residents. She shook her head rather pitifully. "Seeing how you were such a big help to me and to my Larry, we thought what better people to donate to!"

Stunned silence, followed by wide grins and many thanks filled the air in the house. The boys tromped out of the house, greeted by Larry just at the end of the drive.

Shug hurried to put on her moccasin boots, which Mike had kindly given up for her, then stumbled to the door. Millie caught her by the arm.

"Where are you going, honey?"

The girl cocked her head sideways, puzzled. "I'm gonna go help move stuff with the rest of th' guys."

Millie shook her head adamantly. "Now, you leave all that heavy lifting to the men. Besides, we've got some catching up to do, don't we?" She led the girl to the kitchen table, setting down the package, which was wrapped in a pair of cup towels. "You weren't here the last time I visited, so you missed out on this." Millie unwrapped the item, revealing a container with homemade cheesecake.

"Aww, Millie," Shug beamed, "you didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did," the older woman said sternly. She fished through the kitchen drawers till she found appropriate utensils. "You kids never take proper care of yourselves, so it's worth it to stop in and check on you." She placed a pair of mismatched saucers on the table, then began slicing into the treat. "A little spoiling never hurt anyone, right?" She slid a generous piece of cheesecake toward Sugar.

The girl giggled as she armed herself with a fork. "I guess not, huh?"

"Tell me something, Sugar," Millie began, taking a seat next to her. "What's a girl like you doing living with these four boys? I'm as progressive as the next person, but…"

Shug considered the question, scrunching her nose in contemplation. Her eyes widened as the thinly veiled meaning behind Millie's inquiry became clear. "Oh no no no!" She felt her face suddenly become very warm. "We moved Micky downstairs so I could room with my brother. It's the best arrangement we could come up with." She propped her elbow on the table, leaning her face against her palm. "He actually volunteered to sleep on the fold-away. …It was really nice of him."

The truth of the matter was that Micky still felt a touch guilty for putting Shug into her current situation; for essentially creating doubles of Mike, in which case one turned out to be a female. In the six months that had passed since his grand experiment, the boys had all learned to live with the extra Nesmith, while she was slowly learning to live with herself.

Of course, she couldn't tell Millie that. There were some things about being a Monkee that went far past the cusp of believability. Shug was pretty sure her existence qualified.

"How old are you?" Millie's voice shook the dark-haired girl from her daze. "If you don't mind my asking, that is." She gave her a wink. "Just between us girls, naturally."

Sugar fidgeted a moment. How old was she? 'Six months' would not be an appropriate answer, no matter how true it was. "Tw-twenty-four by th' end of this year," she stammered. She hoped it was convincing. It was half-true, at least.

Millie pointed her fork at her new friend. "Don't you think you're a little old to be sharing a room with your brother? That usually stops at ten, if not sooner."

"But…"

But what?

Mike is my security blanket? I miss being me? I'm afraid of what I am now?

Sugar bit her lip and studied the raised patterns on the table. The older blonde patted her hand gently.

"It's okay," she said. "You two must have really missed each other." Millie carefully moved Shug's bangs out of her face. Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Wait a minute—I've got the perfect thing for you back at the house!" Millie practically leapt from her seat, giving the girl a kiss on the top of her head before hurrying toward the front door. "Lemme holler at Larry. Be right back!"

The haul from the Van Lauries was impressive, at least to a quintet of struggling musicians. They were now the proud owners of a well-worn sofa and loveseat, a couple of mismatched bookcases and even a coffee table with real wooden legs in lieu of cinder blocks. The sofa was the most impressive, seeing as how it could unfold into a spare full bed. It had a tricky latch, however, which was discovered when Davy sat down in the wrong place and was subsequently "eaten" by part of the living room suit.

Sugar and Peter were extracting their diminutive friend from the jaws of the couch when Larry trudged into the Pad with pieces of a fancy bed frame hoisted onto his shoulder. "Alright, Cupcake," he gasped, exhausted. "Where did you say to take it?"

Millie scooted through the doorway past her husband. She pointed up the spiral staircase. "Up there, honey." She waved at the boys. "C'mon fellas. I need your help."

"I shoulda known this would come with strings attached," Mike groused, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Millie, while we're thankful for th' furniture, we'd kind of appreciate you not…movin' things around." He stuffed his hat into his back pocket.

The older blonde raised an eyebrow at the young fellow, the corners of her mouth turned down. "In this case, Mr. Nesmith, things definitely need moving around." She pointed at Sugar, who was busy plucking dust bunnies from Davy's hair. "That girl needs her own space."

All eyes locked onto Mike's twin. She folded her arms around herself, taking a few steps back. "…What'd I do?"

At his wife's insistence, Larry continued his careful trek up the metal stairs. Millie's expression softened at last. "I saved that bed for years. First for a daughter I never had, then for a niece who never visited." She broke into a sad smile. "Time to let it go. And to good use, too."

Micky pondered this a moment. "Does this mean I get my bed again?" He groaned and stretched, with exaggerated gestures toward his spine. "'Cause my back is killing me." Mike gave a wry grin and jabbed him in the ribs, making the drummer yelp. Micky slapped at Mike's shoulder. "Don't do that!"

Larry wasted no time in disassembling Micky's bed frame. Mike lingered in the doorway a moment, watching. Sugar stayed close behind on the landing, her ears perked up with every "thud" and "clang" of metal bed pieces.

It was when Larry began taking apart the other bed—Michael's—that the beanpole guitarist stepped in. "Hang on a second, Larry." He wrapped his hands around the lower end of the frame, unsure if he wanted this move to proceed or not. He glanced at the doorway, spotting Shug. She looked hopeful. She chanced a step into the room, heading straight for the new bed frame propped against the far wall. She ran her fingers along the white metal scroll work.

"It's a day bed," she said quietly. She looked at her brother, then back to the new piece of furniture. "It's about th' prettiest thing I think I've ever seen."

Mike watched as the smile on the girl's face at last reached her eyes. Sure, the day bed was nice, but it wasn't necessarily appealing to him. For Sugar, however, it was…different. He had to remind himself she was an entirely separate entity, not simply a genetic clone. New thoughts, new memories, a new host of emotions, entirely independent of his own.

"Shug," he said, clearing his throat, "Millie's right. I think you need your own room." He let go of his own bed frame and nodded at Larry to continue taking it apart.

None of this was what Sugar was expecting. "Are you sure? I mean, I dunno if I'm… I…" She sighed in irritation. "Miiiike…"

"You'll be fine, Baby Sister." Mike put his arm through the rails of Micky's bed frame and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "Gal like you deserves some real privacy, y'know." He brushed past her, hauling the frame gingerly down the staircase.

Micky bounded past Sugar and on Mike's instructions, attempted to lift the head board of the other bed onto his shoulders. "Just think, Shug—You'll have all that closet space to yourself, right?"

She shrugged. "I guess…" Her thoughts dissipated as she watched Micky struggle with the metal bed frame. It first was situated on his shoulder, then he managed to stick his head through the center rails. He charged toward the door, immediately bouncing back when the frame refused to go through. He stared at the door a moment, studying it, then turned sideways and tried again. That didn't quite work either, as the frame clanged noisily against the railing on the landing. Micky side-stepped back into the room, giving Sugar a pitiful look.

"It won't fit."

Sugar couldn't help rolling her eyes. "Mick, we got it up here, didn't we?"

Micky was downright sheepish. "I think Mike did it." He wriggled the frame; his face went white. "I'm stuck!"

"What?"

"I'M STUCK! My head is stuck!" Micky flailed his arms, shaking the frame enough that the decorative pieces rattled. Shug grabbed both his hands and held them down firmly. She had to admit it was a pretty amusing sight. Poor Micky looked like he was locked into a set of stocks.

Shug matched gazes with the brunet. "Micky, you've gotta calm down first, okay?"

He nodded nervously.

"Now just close your eyes an' think relaxin' thoughts," she said calmly. "You can do that for me, right?"

Micky nodded his head again. "Yeah yeah, relaxing. Cool, relaxing, head-not-stuck-in-railings thoughts…"

Sugar grabbed hold of one of the center rails with one hand and placed the other right in the center of Micky's rather unique face. With one deft, determined move, she pushed Micky's head back through the rails, while yanking the frame from around his skull. Once free, the drummer tumbled backwards onto the second floor landing. He felt over his nose, wiggling it again and again until he was satisfied that it had neither left his face nor had it squished into his head any further.

"Geez, Mi—Shug," Micky quickly corrected himself. "What'd you do that for?"

The twin held that portion of the bed frame on her shoulder. She gestured at it, much like a magician's assistant presented a prop, and smiled widely. "Ta-dah."

Micky felt of his neck and face, then kicked and squealed like a kid. "I'm free! Thanks loads, Sugar!"

"Congratulations on your pardon, peasant," she snickered.

It was exhausting work, but with everyone involved, the rearranging of sleeping quarters was completed in an afternoon. Afterward, Shug lay on her bed, her very own bed at last, and stared at the ceiling. She felt over the details in the metal scrolls next to her. The portions between the sculpted flowers reminded her of abstract fleur-de-lis.

"Millie, how do I make this up to you?" she quietly asked of no one.

"Promise her you'll be happy in your new digs," Mike called from the door.

Shug sat up, startled. "Didn't see you standin' there."

Mike rolled his shoulders dismissively. "Eh, I thought I'd come back an' make sure I had everything." He grinned and took a seat next to his sister on the day bed. He bumped her shoulder with his own. "Except for what you've laid claim to, o'course."

Sugar folded her hands across her knees. She errantly bounced her foot on the floor, sliding the little scrap of rug back and forth. "You okay with me stayin' up here? It's gotta be kinda crowded downstairs."

"There's plenty of space for all of us," Mike reassured her. "This is th' smaller bedroom, remember?"

"In all the movin' of stuff, I forgot."

Mike fidgeted a moment, crinkling something behind his back. Looking rather sheepish, he presented his sister with a brown paper package. "Um, here. I may have asked Millie for one little favor."

Puzzled, Shug began tearing into the paper. The package contained a hand-knit hat, just like any one of Mike's. It gave her pause. "It's purple."

"I thought it might look nice on you," said Mike. "Can't have my baby sister catchin' cold, right?"

The girl gazed at the hat, studying the patterns woven into the yarn. Such a simple little thing, but the thought behind it was phenomenally sized. She hugged it against her face first before pulling it onto her head. She didn't hesitate to throw her arms around her twin. "It's perfect. You're perfect."

"Nah, I'm not. I'm still a big, dumb galoot." Mike returned her embrace. "Happy six month birthday, Shug."

Sugar gaped at him, surprised. "You keepin' up with that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Mike gave her a shrug. "It's important." He watched as her eyes left his, trailing to other things in the room. Distractions. "What's buggin' you, Baby Sister?"

She sighed, voice full of worry. "You got any idea what it's like t'live in fear of somethin' as dumb as a full moon?"

Mike looked past her, peering out the window. Sure enough, that big lunar beach ball was barely visible in the afternoon sky, anxious to begin its evening shift. "Selenophobia."

Sugar's head snapped up to face her brother again. "Who?"

"Fear of the moon, hon," he said with a kind smile. "It's called selenophobia." He put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. She propped her head on his shoulder. "Can I ask why?"

"You of all people should know," Shug grumbled. She picked at her nails, then felt over the crooked finger on her right hand. Her brother had the same exact injury. Of course he did. "This whole mess started with a full moon glarin' down on us. I'm afraid it'll end th' same way."

"You're not goin' anywhere, Sugar."

"How do you know for sure, Mike?" Her voice sounded a little heavy. He knew why and squeezed her shoulder.

"I just do," he said quietly. "After this long, I wouldn't let anyone or anything take you without a fight, either. It's kinda nice havin' a sister." With his free hand, he removed his hat. "…You look like Mama, y'know."

Shug's gasp was audible. The comment wasn't an insult; in fact, it was the farthest thing from it. But with all the worry and fear she had kept to herself since the big split, it hit just the proper chord to rattle her emotional well. She cringed and held tightly onto Mike. Overcome, tears spilled out of her eyes and soaked into the shoulder of her brother's shirt. He stroked her hair and simply let her cry.

She let him cry, too.

Author's Notes: This whole thing has been lodged in my head a while and is still developing. And yep, we already have a little drama.