Author's Note: As always, read and review!

Chapter 4: Stuck

"Micky, hold still!" Mike grunted pulling Micky's hand closer over the sink.

"Stop that!" Micky argued trying to pull his hand back unsuccessfully. "I told you already it burns when you do that!" Mike and Micky had made it back to the mansion without incident and now Mike was trying to put soap and water on his hand to make the ring slide off while putting a stopper in the drain so the ring wouldn't fall down it. It wasn't working; all it did was make his hand slippery. Mike was still able to hold a firm grip on his wrist, however, despite the soapy mess covering his hand.

"We have to figure a way to take this off, Micky," Mike said angrily squeezing even tighter on Micky's wrist..

"Don't you think I know that!?" Micky exclaimed finally able to yank his hand from Mike's grasp.

"Maybe some vaseline or something," Mike said starting to look through the cabinets.

"Mike, if it won't even budge with soap and water, what makes you think vaseline will work?" Micky asked.

"I don't know, Micky, but I have to try something!" Mike said throwing the soap angrily in the sink splashing soapy water everywhere.

"Well, can we take a break from trying?" Micky asked slumping on the toilet and holding his hand in pain. "This really hurts."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you put it on," Mike scolded.

"How in the world was I supposed to know this would happen!?" Micky exclaimed getting a little angrier than he already was.

"That's why you shouldn't have put it on," Mike said. "I told you not to touch it. But did you listen to me?!"

"Mike, please calm down," Micky said.

"Do you realize what you've done!?" Mike exclaimed ignoring Micky's plea. "Do you know what you've roped me into!? How much trouble you're in and how it's going to affect Davy and his grandfather!?"

"No, Mike, why don't you tell me!" Micky roared back and jumped to his feet. Mike was about to say something, but water in the sink suddenly exploded as though a small bomb had gone off under it. The two stared dumbfounded at the sink for a moment as the water drained away through a crack that now appeared at the base of the sink.

"Well, that's just great," Mike muttere. "You broke Mr. Jones' sink."

"I didn't do that!" Micky argued. "I don't even know what happened!"

"What's going on in there?" Davy said suddenly on the other side of the bathroom door. Micky paled dreading Davy finding out what happened.

"Nothing," Micky answered.

"Don't you think we should tell him?" Mike asked.

"Why are you both in there?" Peter asked. "You've been acting strange since the museum."

"Oh alright," Micky said yanking the door open. "Davy, please don't be mad."

"Why would I be mad?" Davy asked. "What did you do?"

"Not here; let's talk about this in your room," Micky said looking up and down the hallway fearing that he might see Mr. Jones walking towards them. It was one thing to tell Davy, he was Micky's best friend, but he knew that he couldn't let Mr. Jones find out. Micky led the way to Davy's room and the four of them stared at each other for a moment.

"Ok, you gonna talk?" Davy asked.

"Well, see, I messed up," Micky admitted and showed Davy and Peter his hand with the ring stuck on it.

"What?" Davy asked trying to figure it out. "It's just a ring."

"That looks really old!" Peter said grabbing his hand and looking at the ring.

"It is," Mike said. "Probably a couple thousand years old. It's from the dig."

"My grandfather's dig?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," Micky said. "Two of the crew members let us look at some of the stuff that wasn't on display yet."

"You stole an artifact from my grandfather!?" Davy exclaimed.

"I didn't mean to!" Micky defended. "I just put it on and now it won't come off!"

"Why did you put it on?" Peter asked.

"What do you mean it won't come off?" Davy asked.

"I put it on because I was curious," Micky said. "And stupid. And now it won't come off. Everytime we try, I feel like somehow the ring scalds my skin."

"That doesn't make any sense," Davy said as he pulled Micky's hand out of Peter's. "Let me try."

"Ow!" Micky yelped as Davy pulled on the ring. Micky quickly yanked his hand back. "Stop that! I told you it burns! Why does everyone keep doing that!?"

"Because we have to take the ring off!" Mike argued. "What you did is a crime!"

"I'm well aware of that," Micky grunted.

"We could cut off his finger," Davy suggested narrowing his eyes in anger.

"Hey!" Micky protested putting his hand deeply in his pocket. "Why do you guys keep suggesting that?"

"We can't cut off his finger!" Peter argued.

"He can still play drums without a finger," Davy said.

"It was a joke," Mike said dryly but sighed and sank onto the end of Davy's bed.

"Well, we have to get it off somehow," Davy said.

"We've tried soapy water and it didn't even budge," Mike said. "It won't even spin around on his finger."

"What about vaseline?" Davy asked.

"He won't even let us try," Mike said. "But I doubt it would work anyway. I really don't understand it. His fingers aren't even that big and it should at least be spinning with the soap. I'm wondering if he is onto something when he says it's fused to his finger."

"That's not possible," Davy said.

"I don't know," Peter sitting pulling Micky's hand gently out of Micky's pocket to inspect the ring carefully. "If Micky says its burning his finger whenever someone tries to take it off, maybe it really is fusing to his finger. It wouldn't be the first time we've dealt with something weird. Maybe it's cursed like the monkey's paw was."

"That's just terrific," Davy muttered sinking next to Mike on the bed. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know, Davy," Mike said heavily.

"Well, we have to figure something out," Davy said. "We have to do something. We have to get that ring back to the museum before my grandfather or anyone else finds out."

"We have to figure as much out about this ring as we can," Peter said. "Figuring out how it's cursed is probably the key to figuring out how to get it off."

"This is a giant mess," Davy sighed. "How does this always happen to us?"

"Davy, I'm so sorry," Micky said. "I messed up. I should have listened to Mike. I shouldn't have touched anything. This is all my fault. You and Mike were right. I'm an idiot. A misbehaved, immature, obnoxious child."

"We'll figure this out, Micky," Peter said trying to reassure Micky, but it wasn't helping. Seeing how upset Mike and Davy were bothered him. He'd been so afraid of goofing off and embarrassing Davy at the party, but what he'd really done had been far worse. He felt anger boil inside him again, but not at Davy or Mike. He was angry at himself. He pulled his hand away from Peter and turned to walk out the door not feeling as though he even deserved to be in the same room as his friends at that moment.

"Micky, where are you going?" Peter asked though Micky didn't answer him; he just kept walking until he was outside on a balcony. The night was freezing, but he wasn't really paying attention to that. How could he have really screwed up so badly? Not only could he go to jail for this, but it could seriously impact his friends. Mike knew about it and could very easily be charged with helping him. Who knew the implications this could have on Davy and his grandfather. And what if Peter got roped into this too simply because he was there?

"Micky," Mike said softly behind him startling him. "You know I never said anything like that, right?"

"You didn't have to," Micky answered.

"Well, for your information, I wasn't even thinking it," Mike said. "Neither was Davy. None of us think you're childish or immature or obnoxious. Ok, maybe a little, but honestly I don't think we'd like you if you weren't. We can all be that way a little."

"Mike, you really don't have to try and make me feel better," Micky said. "You're pissed that I didn't listen to you and that I got you guys into this mess. But you don't have to worry about that because I'm not letting you guys go down with me. I did this on my own and I'm going to deal with it on my own."

"No, you're not," Mike said. "I'm not just saying what I think you want to hear to make you feel better. I'm saying that while I am mad you didn't listen to me and this happened, I know you didn't mean for it to. Just like Davy didn't mean to fall for Angelita in Mexico and get himself nearly killed. But what did we do when he did? Did we just back off and let him deal with it on his own? Or did you save the day as "Dolenzio" and end up rescuing the whole town in a shootout?"

"This is different," Micky said.

"I really don't see how," Mike answered. "You've had my butt in the past. You've had Davy's and you've had Peter's. The whole thing with the Devil and the harp..."

"That was mostly you," Micky countered.

"Ok, what about you dressing up as a big-shot movie producer?" Mike said. "Or dressing as a woman so Davy could go out on a date?"

"None of those situations were nearly as bad as this is," Micky argued. "I can't let you guys get involved in this. I can't drag you guys down with me on this one."

"Well, whether you are going to let us or not, we're helping you," Mike said firmly. "We're family, Mick. We aren't going to let you sink here. Besides, it's not entirely your fault."

"Sure it is," Micky said.

"No, I should have done more to stop you," Mike sighed. "You told me how nervous you were about this whole thing from the beginning. I saw how bored you were and I know how you are when you're bored. I should have seen something like this coming."

"Mike, this isn't your fault," Micky argued. "I'm not your responsibility."

"Maybe," Mike sighed leaning against the banister of the balcony next to Micky. "But that doesn't change the fact that I could have done more to stop you. I see you as my little brother. My hyper, trouble-making, funny, sweet, caring, loyal baby brother. And by default, I have to look out for you. But that's all done by choice, Micky. I chose not to walk away from everything when things started looking bad. I could have, you know. I was offered the chance to audition for a big producer to do a country record a few months ago in Nashville, you know. The catch was, it was solo. It would have meant leaving all of you behind. And I couldn't do that. And I'm not now. I'm not turning my back on any of you."

"You really turned that down?" Micky asked surprised.

"Of course I did," Mike answered as though it were a stupid question. "You guys are my best friends. I wouldn't trade any of you for all the fame and glory in the world."

"Mike, if you help me and this goes south, you could end up in jail with me," Micky said.

"Well, I really don't plan on letting it go south, Micky," Mike said.

"What if it does?" Micky asked.

"Stop," Mike said. "We can't think about that too much yet. We do, and we'll dwell on it when we should be focusing on how to help you now. Besides, it's freezing cold out here and I'd like to go back inside."

"I never made you come out here," Micky said.

"No," Mike admitted with a smile. "I came out here because I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you knew that while I might be mad, I'm not mad at you. I still care about you."

"You promise you won't cut my finger off?" Micky smiled. He still felt a tremendous sense of guilt, but somehow he felt better about everything.

"Well, we can't take the hand," Mike retorted as the two of them walked back inside. "Davy's right. You can play the drums without a finger, but not without a hand."