Part 4 ~ January 20th, 1977

"Boy, it sure was nice of the Torks and Jones' to help us get back on our feet," Micky mused as he and Mike turned onto Beachwood Drive for the first time in ten years.

"Yeah," Mike simply said. He was in wonder at his surroundings. Nostalgia overtook him, choking him up a bit. However he tried his best to hide this from Micky. Micky looked on at the neighborhood with awe and anticipation. It was obvious that he had never seen this before.

"I still can't believed they paid our first month's rent so we can look for jobs all while having a place to live," Micky said, taking on the hint that this was a one-way conversation. Mike pulled into the garage at 1334 Beachwood Drive, almost expecting Micky to snap back with the look of the beach house. When no such revelation occurred, he shut off the engine of Davy's little car. He handed the ring of keys to Micky.

"The red key opens the front door. Why don't you head on in and get a feel for the place and I'll start bringing stuff in from the back," Mike then quickly got out before Micky could argue.

Micky hopped out of the car and walked up to the door. He stuck the red key in the lock and unlocked the door. He then casually pushed the door open, revealing the old Monkees Pad, as it was ten years ago. Micky stood in awe at the majesty and furbishments. There were many odd things about the room, of course, but he found it all surprisingly comforting. There was suddenly a nagging feeling in his head. Something he couldn't shake. "Hey Mike, did the landlord say this place was going to be furnished when we got here?" He received no answer. He walked a little ways into the pad, roaming around to get a good look at everything. When he was analyzing the kitchen, he heard a second of static before voices filled the house.

"Hey Mick, over here," Micky jumped out of his skin.

"Mike?" He asked.

"Hi Mike," Micky heard himself say. "What are you doing?" Micky spun to find the television had turned on by itself. There he was, on the screen, playing with a set of drums. Drums? Why was he playing with drums? Analyzing the setting in the video, they apparently were in this house. The house Micky found himself in now.

"Recording you," Mike's voice said.

"Oh yeah, why?"

"I want to see if it's working," Mike had answered.

"Well then don't record him, his face will break it," A new voice said. Micky recognized the voice. The nagging feeling grew stronger.

"Davy?" Micky asked as he watched the video turn to a strapping young man in swim trunks with a towel. "Mike! Mike!" Micky said, now becoming unsure of what was going on. Mike did not answer him.

"Yeah, then who should I record?"

"Me," Davy beamed at the camera.

"Why would he record you, shortie?" Micky witnessed the interaction between a younger version of himself and Davy.

"I'm the most photogenic," The young Davy Jones bragged. That's when Micky watched something fly and hit Davy's chest, and Davy reacting in the most absurd and dramatic way.

"Nice shot Peter!" He heard himself cheer. The video turned to a young Peter Tork, distraught at the outcome.

"Peter?!" Micky asked himself. What was going on?

"I'm sorry Davy, I didn't mean to!" Peter's voice echoed in his head. Micky stepped away from the video, uncomfortable and distraught himself.

"Mike? Mike!" Micky yelled, scrambling towards the front door. He ran out of it, finding that all the stuff was still in the car, but Mike was not there. He backed into the house, calling out for the man. "Mike? Mike! Please Mike, there are some freaking things goin' on here. I think we should live somewhere-"

"The local rock group down the street is trying hard to learn their song," Micky heard a voice sing. He stumbled to a halt. He recognized the song. No, better. He knew that song. He turned back towards the television to see a young version of himself, Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork performing the song. That's what did it. Micky could feel his heart break into a million pieces. Davy. Peter. His friends, his brothers. He felt a tear freely roll down his cheek.

"Micky?" Mike finally asked. Micky turned around to see Mike, Davy, and Peter all on the bandstand, looks of concern on their faces.

Micky answered by shaking his head a first, but then running up to the bandstand and engulfing all three men in a hug. The men embraced the hug as Micky cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! It was all my fault! How could I have been so stupid?"

"What are you talking about?" Peter asked.

"The accident, it was all my fault! I should have been more careful! It was dark and I didn't see the bear till I was almost on him, so I swerved out of the way before I hit it. We drove into a valley and hit a tree. God, I'm so sorry! I should have been more careful!"

"You remember the accident?" Mike asked.

Micky shook his head into their shoulders. "I can't believe I was so stupid!"

"Mick, it's okay," Mike said. "You're safe now. We all are," Mike smiled at Davy and Peter.

"I'm so sorry! It was because of my stupid actions that we never came home, Mike. It's my fault that I lost my memory and never wanted to come home!"

"Micky, it's okay now," Mike almost laughed, despite Micky's apparent misery.

"I'm sorry Davy, I'm sorry Peter! We should have come home, we should have come home!"

"What?" Davy asked. The two were thrown off by this.

"I'm sorry I forgot about you two. I'm sorry I forgot about us, and the band! We should have come home!"

Davy couldn't help but laugh. "Micky, it's not your fault. You were in a car accident. Those things tend to happen when you hit your head too hard."

"But ten years, Davy! Ten years I had no idea you even existed! Ten years I had no idea about the Monkees, no idea about Peter, no idea that I could actually sing!" Micky cried more, but Mike, Peter, and Davy all kept him upright in their group hug. Peter and Davy couldn't help but smile. He remembered.

"So this means you know who we are now?" Peter almost teased.

Micky wailed again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Davy laughed, despite Micky's misery.

"Don't tell Mike, please," they all suddenly heard Davy say. Micky sniffed up his snot as they all turned back towards the television.

"I won't tell Mike. Gods, Davy, you know how long he's been planning this trip?" They watched the young Micky Dolenz say.

"A while…" They heard Davy reply.

"Yeah, besides, you know how to take care of someone who is sick… Right?"

"'Course I do."

"Then there is nothing to worry about," The young Micky said.

"Well, that was a lie," Peter commented absently. Davy elbowed him playfully and Peter delivered an equally playful cry of pain.

They continued to watch as they saw the two young Monkees get into their old, beloved MonkeeMobile, driving away, never to be seen again in this life. The video fizzled to a stop, turning black. They all were teary-eyed. That was the last time any of them had been properly together, till now. They all looked at one another, watching the years pass on their faces in a single moment.

Micky quickly yanked them all into another group hug. "I'm so glad to be home," He muttered to himself more than them.

"Me too, Shotgun, me too," Mike said just as quietly. They were together once again. They were all finally home.

The End

Author's Note: Thanks Lisa Boon for letting me publish this! Also, thank YOU the reader for reading this. :) Feel free to check out the rest of Lisa Boon's work, as well as mine, AS WELL AS our joint account, Jean Blessing. Thank you for the support!

Peace & Love,

TimeSpace64