Author's Note: I don't own the Monkees, unfortunately. Also, my intention here was not to hate on Mike or make him seem rude. I love Mike, but I wanted to show how I think so many people, not just Mike, would react to Peter.

Never let it be said that Peter Tork was not a peaceful young man. Now while he wasn't altogether bright, he was generally happy and serene. I'm not sure what that says about life or if it says anything at all. All I know is that it was very true for the blonde teenager that now walked down the street bearing a bass across his chest, which he plucked as he went along. He didn't notice that he was about to walk in to the middle of traffic, and he was oblivious to the man who stopped him, turned him around, and guided him back.

"Hey, fella, you oughta watch where you're going," the man said. Peter didn't look up. "Hey fella, snap out of it!" The man grabbed Peter by the shoulders and shook him, jolting him out of his haze.

"Oh! Hello, mister!" Peter said with a grin. He looked from the face of the man, who couldn't have been much older than him, to his green wool hat. "That's a nice hat. Where did you get it?"

Wool Hat Man was a little taken aback by the blonde's apparent lack of wits about him. However, he took his hat off and gave it a quick once-over. "There's a nice little shop back in Texas—hey, wait a minute! You almost walked in to the middle of traffic."

"Really? Oh gee, I ought to be more careful… Thanks, mister!" He smiled and was about to walk away when Wool Hat Man stopped him.

"Hey, man, where were you headed, anyway?"

"Just looking for somewhere to grab some lunch before I split," Peter replied casually.

"I see. Goin' home for Independence Day?"

"Nope. I'm headed everywhere."

"Everywhere?!" The Texan asked dumbfounded.

"Yup. My mom told me I couldn't make it anywhere with my bass, so I took my bass and left for everywhere to show her I could."

"Well I see you ain't to be underestimated," he replied with the slightest hint of sarcasm, which Peter didn't pick up.

"No, sir!" Peter said with a smile. "Well, I had better be going. Thanks for the conversation, …?"

"Michael, Michael Nesmith."

"Michael—that's a nice name. Thanks for the conversation, Michael. And I promise that I'll be more careful!" He grinned again (Mike gathered that he did that a lot) and went on his way.

But an unexpected wave of guilt washed over Mike. Here he was, having just saved what seemed to be the living embodiment of "ignorance is bliss" who traveled everywhere trying to prove his mother wrong while hardly understanding what exactly it was she was trying to say. Yet this guy had no place to stay, not a great family from how it sounded, no street smarts, and no friends. And I didn't even ask the poor guy's name, Mike thought. Now Mike, don't you go and meddle in someone else's—aw, hell! He frowned and ran to catch up to the blond. "Hey! Hey, wait up!" Peter turned and beamed.

"Hello again, Michael. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I was just wonderin' could I…could I take you to lunch? I figured, what with a holiday tomorrow and all, you could use a…a, uh—"

"Friend?" He asked quietly. Friend? Mike thought. I just met you, not to mention your head's about as empty as my icebox… But his face was so innocent and genuine Mike couldn't say no.

"Yeah, uh, sure. A friend. What's your name, anyway?"

"Peter, Peter Tork," he said happily, extending his hand for Mike to shake.

"Good to meet you, Peter. I know a nice diner just down the street we could stop at."

"That sounds great! Gee, I'm awfully grateful, Michael." Peter told him.

"No problem, man," Mike said. "You know what? You can just call me Mike." He added.

"All right, Mike. Let's go." He smiled.

"You know, you smile a lot, Pete." Mike said between bites of a cheeseburger.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Peter supposed. He had never really thought about it before, it was just something he did without thinking. He dunked another French fry in ketchup before eating it. Mike looked at him expectantly. "Oh, you want to know why, don't you?" Mike nodded. "I've been travelling for a while and I find that smiling helps."

"Helps with what, exactly?"

"You meet all kinds of people, Mike. All kinds. And you find yourself in different situations. Smiling helps." He explained kind of vaguely. He smiled, but this one seemed different. Mike decided not to ask further.

` "So, you're a musician, then?" Mike asked, changing the subject.

"Yep! Bass is mainly what I play, but I can play other instruments. How about you?"

"For me, man, music is where it's at. I play guitar and I sing, but so far I haven't been able to do anything with it."

"Why not?"

"Well, because I, uh… You know what? I actually don't know." It was true. For as long as he could remember, Mike loved music and wanted more than anything to play and perform. So what was holding him back? "What about you and your music? Have you done anything with that?"

Peter frowned. "Not yet. I love playing, but no one has bothered to listen to me play. Not to mention that being on the road doesn't always provide a lot of time for practicing."

"Is that why you were plucking at your bass in the middle of the sidewalk?" Peter nodded sadly. All of a sudden he looked up at Mike, his expression urgent.

"I almost forgot! My amp!"

"Your amp? You mean you brought an amplifier with you on the road?" The blond nodded quickly. "What on earth made you go and do that? And how have you been managing that, anyway?"

"It's a smaller amp and I have a wagon that I pull it around in. I forgot that I left it in a park while I went to search for somewhere to eat!"

"Oh, doggone it, let's go and get it then!" Mike called out to the waitress as she passed by, "Miss, can we have the check please? Thanks." A minute or so later the check was brought to their table. Mike reached into his pockets and pulled out some cash.

"Wait, I'll get it," Peter offered. He pulled some money out of his pocket that covered maybe half the cost. Realizing that it wasn't much, he shrugged sheepishly and apologized. Mike told him not to worry and to save his money for a different day.

"Now let's go get that amp!"

The run to the park was about an hour long, and it wasn't the most fun run. Peter wasn't very light on his feet, as Mike discovered, and kept accidentally running into people. Each time he did so, he stopped to shake the person's hand and apologize. However, most of the reactions he got were not as polite.

Finally they reached the park, and by that time afternoon began to turn to evening, and the sun cast a magnificent gold light over everything. Mike had often passed the park, but never actually stopped at it before. He now wondered why. Peter had never even known it existed, as this was his first time in the area, and gazed upon the scene with awe. Mike spotted a tall tree with some low branches and walked over to it. It must have been the beauty of the park in the light of the setting sun that made Mike suddenly start to climb. Peter didn't notice him at first, as he was occupied with looking at the flowers. But he looked over and ran to the tree.

"Wow, Mike! Look at you go!" He exclaimed.

Mike chuckled. "You know, I haven't climbed a tree since I was a little boy back on my Aunt Kate's ranch in Texas. I forgot how much fun it is!" He climbed another two branches higher, then stopped. "Hey, Pete, come check out the view from here!" Peter climbed up to where Mike was on the tree and sat next to him on the branch. The view was breathtaking. You could see the whole park and the sun beginning to set on the horizon. The two sat there and talked for what felt like hours, mostly about music. After a while, they realized that they had to find the wagon and get a move on. They climbed down the tree and soon found an old red wagon with "Peter Tork" painted on the side in large white letters. Inside the wagon was Peter's amp.

"Man, this wagon is pretty old. How long have you had it?"

"Since I was a little boy. See, I even painted my name on the side when I was eight." There was a pause, and then Peter sighed. "I should get a move on. Thanks for everything today, Mike. I'll be sure to remember you. It's funny; I haven't found anyone worth remembering on the road before I met you." He smiled, but it was that somehow different smile that he had back in the diner. "Good-bye, Mike," he called over his shoulder as he walked away. Mike just stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

"I figured you could use a… a, uh—"

" Friend?"

"Hey, Pete!" He called out. The blond turned around. "I'll remember you, too." Peter stopped for a moment as if to think about what Mike had said to him before continuing on a few more steps. "Hey, Pete! If make your way back here in town, come to this here park again. Promise?"

"I promise, Michael!"