Notes: The circumstances of Micky and Peter's meeting were borrowed, with permission, from PlushChrome; many thanks!
"Micky!?" Davy cried. "Peter!?"
Mike waved a hand in the empty space, and then cursed aloud.
"Of course—that fella just warned us in his hologram message that the force fields would be deactivated if we opened the doors!" he fumed. "How could we have forgotten that so soon!?"
"Zero did this!?" Davy asked. "We have to find them before it's too late! You were able to find me when I was sent to Egypt—can't you use whatever trick you used then to find Micky and Peter?"
"Last time, I was helped by you playing the ocarina; I was able to get a lock on the location and time of where the music was coming from. We don't have that advantage now," Mike said, as he ran back inside and started pushing random buttons. "But maybe Micky's wristwatch might be able to…"
"Look!" the English boy said, pointing to the screen. "…I don't wanna speak too soon, but I think it's working!"
"A few months back in time, in Ventura, California?" Mike said, reading the screen. "Why would they end up there?"
"Who cares about why—at least we know where they are!"
Mike nodded in agreement at this and tried to work the controls again, but the time machine refused to budge.
"I don't believe this," he groaned. "She's not budging again."
Davy sighed.
"Well, I suppose if it's any consolation, once Micky can get that wristwatch of his working again, he and Peter should find their way back to us. He's good with things like science and gadgets…"
"Unless…" Mike began.
"Unless what?" Davy asked.
"Well, call me a pessimist, but it could be that Zero made it so that Micky and Peter are lost in Ventura somewhere—somewhere where they can't use that thing. Now, I'll admit that I don't have any idea of how he'd do that, but, let's face it—it's well within Zero's power to do it."
The console suddenly whirred, and Mike stared at it, frowning.
"What do you mean, you did it!?" the Texan accused. "Why'd you send them to Ventura for, anyway!? And why won't you let us go get them!?"
The time machine pitched forward again without a response, tipping Mike and Davy out and closing the doors after them.
"Oh, come on!" Mike complained. "This again!?"
He dodged as she swung a door open to hit him with, which she quickly closed and locked again.
"She's doing the thing again; guess we've gotta look around and figure out what she wants us to do, or else she won't let us find Micky and Peter. At least we know now that they're okay…" The Texan trailed off, looking at the stunned look on Davy's face. "Something wrong, Tiny?"
Wordlessly, Davy pointed to a building nearby.
"So?" Mike asked. "It's a bus depot."
"It's not just a bus depot, Mike. It's the bus depot. Don't you remember?"
Mike looked back at the building, his eyes widening.
"Yeah, I remember," he said. "How could I not? Babbitt's rent hike made me desperate for a roommate, so I came here to post a notice on the bulletin board to see if anyone was interested."
Davy suddenly grabbed Mike's arm.
"Correction," he said, his eyes widening, as well. "You're coming here to post a notice on the bulletin board."
"I'm… what…?"
Mike trailed off as he saw red Pontiac GTO pull into the parking lot of the bus depot—and a younger version of himself was driving it.
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaa—!?"
"Shh!" Davy exclaimed, pulling Mike behind the El Dorado as the younger Mike looked in their direction, puzzled.
He didn't seem to notice them; younger Mike seemed satisfied that there was nothing, and he began to dig through the glove compartment—obviously looking for the flier that he intended to post.
"…Did I really have my hair that short?"
"Mike…" Davy said. "Can I run something by you?"
"Sure."
"Why would we be sent here—on the day we met?"
"Well, uh… I just don't have any idea, Tiny. Maybe we just need a reminder of what's important—not that we really need one, but I guess it can't hurt, can it?"
"Guess not…" Davy said. "And now it makes sense why Micky and Peter were sent to Ventura—that's where they first met."
"Guess they could use a reminder, too, or would just enjoy it," Mike said. He suddenly paled. "Or, on the other hand… maybe they're there and we're here to stop time from being rewritten beyond all repair."
"Huh?" Davy asked, still looking at the younger Mike, who was still looking through his glove compartment for the flier.
Present-day Mike quickly placed a hand on Davy's head and turned him to face the doors of the bus depot.
He was just in time for Davy to see Mr. Zero walking into the bus depot.
"If I'm out here," Mike said, indicating his past self. "Then you're in there. And now Zero is, too."
"But that's… Oh."
Without a word, the two ran inside; thankfully, young Mike was still too busy looking through the glove compartment for the flier to notice his older self running in and out of his line of vision.
"Where is he…?" Davy asked. "Where'd he go?"
"There…" Mike said. "And he's heading right for…"
He trailed off, both him and Davy staring in horror as Zero was approaching a younger Davy who was pulling all of his luggage together onto a cart. Zero was holding something in his hand.
"That's me!" present-day Davy said. "Zero's going to talk to me. And he's got something there—looks like a taxi voucher or something…"
"I think that's exactly what it is—a taxi voucher," Mike said. "Now I know what that note of his meant—'it is all too easy to tear apart those who have never been together.'"
Davy looked horrified.
"He's going to fix it so that I never meet you!" he cried.
"Micky…?" Peter asked. "What just happened to us? Where are Mike and Davy?"
"I'm trying to figure that out," the brunet said. "This weirdo wristwatch seems to have stopped going on the fritz for the moment; maybe I can try getting it to send us back to them…" He frowned, deeply, as an error message appeared on the screen upon his attempt to do so. "…Or not…"
"We're stuck here!?" the blond asked. "Forever!?"
"Nah," Micky said. "You know Mike; he won't let us be stranded here—if he wasn't about to let Davy get stranded in Egypt, there's no way he'll let us get stranded…" He looked around at the familiar sites. "…here in Ventura."
"We're in Ventura?" Peter asked, looking around. "Oh. Yeah. Guess we are, aren't we? Boy, this brings back some memories, doesn't it?"
"I'll say it does…" Micky said, grinning broadly as he momentarily forgot about their predicament. "You remember that streetlight there?"
"On that corner? Of course—that's where we ran into each other for the first time," Peter mused.
"Yeah—literally…" Micky smirked. "I can't believe it; everything looks exactly the same as I remember it—the same bright sun… the same clouds in the sky…"
"You were paying attention to the clouds' shapes?" Peter asked.
"Why do you think I crashed into you?"
"Good point. And you're right; everything really does look the same. I wonder if…" Peter trailed off. "Hey, Micky? What date do you have on that wristwatch?"
Micky looked to him sharply, realizing the implications of this, and, wordlessly, held it out to him.
"You're right," he said. "It's the day we met—in the very same place. But why?"
Peter shrugged.
"I don't know, but I'm all for sitting back and enjoying the reminiscing. Maybe we can even watch it happen. Look—there I am!"
A younger version of himself was heading to the street corner from one way, just ambling along aimlessly. Suddenly, though, in a cloud of smoke, someone appeared a few yards ahead of the young Peter, startling him.
"…Funny. I don't remember that ever happening."
"Peter!" Micky hissed. "That's Zero!"
Peter did a double-take, his jaw dropping.
"But… I never met Zero the day I met you! The first time I met him was in his pawn shop the day I got that harp—never before!" Peter looked to Micky, visibly perturbed. "Micky, what's going on here?"
"I don't know," Micky said. "But I've got a really bad feeling that Zero's going to try fixing things to go his way." His eyes widened. "I was right! He got back the page about the day we met—that's all that mattered to him, so that's why he returned all the others! This is the only one he needs." Fear gripped at him, and Peter could only nod, realizing the implications.
"If he stops us from meeting… he wins. For keeps."