A/N: Well, this is my first normal try in the Monkee fanfiction – well, in the fanfiction on the whole. This was meant to be like a Monkee thriller – at least I'm trying. There will be quite Mike/Davy-ish line, it will get bigger to the end, and I'm planning to write a second part of this story, where this line will be developed. But this is to come, and you have a story now in front of you eyes. I hope you enjoy, the honest criticism is welcome.
Chapter 1. The mad night.
Everything was already dark on this part of the street. A time of the night hunters – stray cats and thieves – had come to this quiet place, and nobody of its old and humble or young and inexperienced inhabitants dared to step out of their safe homes. They were sleeping in their warm beds or they were far away from here partying and they would come only in the morning, when it's already grey and you can see more than just silhouettes, with a bunch of happy and a little drunken friends holding on to their shoulders – or themselves holding on to their friends' shoulders.
Now it was dark. The street was quiet. Somewhere the stray cats started their concert. Everything seemed to be asleep.
Only one house wasn't sleeping. The warm yellow light came out of its windows and it made that house look like a little lantern in all that dark. Nobody moved inside there, no dark figures seemed to be visible, but this house wasn't sleeping, it was breathing from inside in this dark night.
Mike sighed. He put his hand on the strings of the guitar – they vibrated just a little more and then stopped. Mike listened carefully as the sound dissolved, the littlest echoes dying and falling on the floor. Then he put his guitar aside and listened to the silence now surrounding him. He sat there for a moment or two, looking like some animal – his ears pricked up, tense, waiting. Then quiet groan escaped from his lips, and he buried his face in his hands. He didn't know what he expected to hear – just it was not that dead silence. Mike was anxious like he had never been before.
Micky and Peter were most likely asleep, they had been for about an hour, if Mike was correct – well, he knew for sure that since he told them to go to bed and not to worry, they wished him goodnight and went to their bedrooms, they hadn't appeared. It was not they whom Mike worried about. No, as long as he was there in the pad, those two could sleep peacefully. It was Davy whom Mike was thinking about all that time.
He went away with his girl – the second one this week – at about five o'clock, and now it was five minutes to midnight and Mike didn't know what to do. He was feeling just so terribly helpless he wanted to cry, but he held his emotion deep inside the heart, he locked it and let it bite and scratch him from the inside, not letting it show. In fact, he was used to keeping everything inside, that's why people usually thought he was a stone-like, selfish arse, which he was not. He was used to this opinion as well and it didn't bother him much, because he knew that there were three guys who knew what he was like in fact, and this brought relief. But now Mike was wondering in fear where the third one might be.
Of course, he could simply overstay and there could be nothing to worry about – gosh, who knew Davy better than Mike? Still he couldn't believe in this for some reason and the thing he didn't know the reason made him worry even more. Something bad could happen…
But then again – something kept Mike from just jumping from his place, taking a coat and running out in the dark, recklessly throwing himself to saving Davy he didn't even know from what. And the only thought that the thing he might be saving his friend from could be just a bunch of girls flying around brought Mike that strange feeling below his stomach – he always had it when he was embarrassed.
Some voice inside his head told him not to think a lot, just to run – better to care too much than to care too little. Another one told him that he shouldn't eat himself – it's Davy, God, he, Mike, knows him even better than Davy knows himself!
In the middle of that inner fight Mike's ear caught the sound of the soft footsteps.
- Hey Pete, - Mike said in his usual voice and intonation, not to let his friend know how worried he was.
- Hey Mike, - Peter answered as he sat down right on the floor. – Davy still isn't home, is he? – he asked after a short pause.
- No, as you see, - Mike said with a sigh. – I wonder if something happened.
- If something happened, we would surely know about it, - Peter said with a slight smile. – Don't you know how it always goes…
Mike had to admit Peter was right. Somebody, either the bad guys themselves or a company Davy was in, would immediately be at their door. They had a lot of problems sometimes because of Davy's loose tongue, but now this thought calmed Mike down a bit.
- And why aren't you in bed? – he asked a little crossly, as if to get rid of Peter.
- Well, you know… - Peter looked down. – I wonder what could happen, too.
- And what did you think out? – Mike asked with a bit of irony.
But Peter didn't manage to answer. The door swung open and the little figure appeared in the doorway. Mike jumped on his feet and ran to the little man just in time: Davy made an unsure step, staggered once, twice – and fell on Mike's hands. He looked scary; his shirt was black with blood.
Nobody noticed another figure at the door. The man cast the last glance at the guys and quickly walked away, not wanting to be thanked.
- Davy! Oh God, dear, Davy, man…
One fierce look closed Peter's mouth.
- Moans and groans don't usually help bleeding people, - Mike hissed through his teeth. – You'd better stop and bring me something to treat his wounds just a little, just for now, just to STOP ALL THIS DAMNED BLOOD!
He was able to shout these last words in desperation, as soon as he put Davy's soft unconscious body on the couch. They had a magical effect on Peter – he disappeared immediately and Mike quickly wiped his wet eyes so nobody would see how desperate he was in the moment. He knelt down near Davy and started taking what was once his bright yellow shirt off of him, being so nervous that his hands were shaking. Those reddish brown, sticky pieces of fabric hardly resembled anything like a shirt. Soon Mike's hands were all covered up with blood, he was biting his lips and trembling, but he managed to take all the fabric off the deep fresh wounds on Davy's body.
- Go-od, man, what did you put yourself in? – Mike whispered examining Davy's little body.
He looked bitter, so small on that couch, crippled right hand hanging down touching the floor. Mike didn't dare to move it – it could have been broken and he didn't want to make anything worse. Pain was written on his little friend's face, and of course it wasn't unusual – Davy looked as if a bunch of large dogs had attacked him.
- Must've been dogs, - Mike mumbled to himself.
In a second or two, the door swung open once again. Peter came with the doctors.
Doctors knew their job, and everything showed that it wasn't such an unnecessary care. Mike and Peter were pushed aside and they took their place on the stairs – Mike biting his lips nervously and Peter rubbing his right palm with his left thumb. They had done all they could.
- Should I always shout for you to work so well? – Mike asked quietly with a slight weak smile, just to calm Peter and himself down a bit.
Peter shrugged and looked at him for a second.
- He must be terribly wounded.
- He is, - Mike said with a sigh. – Must've been dogs.
- Dogs?
- Right, and quite big ones… - he made a pause then smiled bitterly. – Enormous ones. Davy's not timid, they must've been big and hungry. Otherwise, you know, they wouldn't attack.
- Ye-es… - Peter said thoughtfully. – The dogs bite the ones who're afraid of them, right?
- Right. Either they were large and hungry – but where could he be to find such large and hungry dogs? Or…
Mike made a pause and Peter encouraged him:
- Or?
- Or I wonder what made him so scared…
Peter didn't know, Mike either. They just sat silently watching doctors walking quickly up and down the room. They said things to each other, not quite understandable ones…