As strange as it was, Mike didn't get better until the other Michael Nesmith was able to as well. But once he did, both were able to make almost immediate recoveries. Their recoveries happened so suddenly and quickly, that it was suspicious. How could they both go from being unable to get out of bed, to back to normal in the span of only one night? They were both hidden under piles of blankets, freezing, and the next, it was like it never even happened.

And to Mike, it didn't. He had no recollection of getting sick, especially not with hypothermia, and his instinct response when one of the others mentioned it was always:

"I didn't get sick. I never get sick."

So the guys had to brush off what had ended up being a very frightening situation and the near-death experience of their friend, and pretend like everything was fine. Nothing had happened, after all.

The other Michael's recovery was a little bit more complicated and wasn't as immediate. He was able to walk and talk just fine but he was still cold and his temperature was below normal. He had spent only one night at the woman's house and never bothered to ask for her name. He thought he could just play it off and pretend to be who she seemed to think he was. Surprisingly enough, she never seemed to notice that he wasn't the right person. Even after only that one night, he knew that he couldn't stay much longer.

She had told him that she was going out to work and once he was sure that she was gone, that was when he decided to make his escape. Michael had felt so awful the whole night before, but it wasn't because he was sick. It was because he was taking advantage of someone else's kindness, who thought he was someone he wasn't. And he did nothing to stop it.

He let out a sigh and grabbed a pair of clothes from his suitcase, heading into the restroom. Pushing down whatever feelings of guilt he still had, he took off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He had been told the morning that he was welcome to the shower and a part of him still felt guilty for using it, but he was cold and frankly, needed one.

It didn't feel like it had been too long but after he was dressed and out of the restroom, he looked at the clock, noticing his shower had lasted over an hour.

It was close to noon by this point and Michael quickly ran and stumbled back into the bedroom, going to his suitcases. He threw his clothes in the suitcase, forcing it closed. The woman had offered to wash them for him, but he knew there was no point if he wasn't staying. Playing it safe this time, he pulled on a sweater in case it was colder than he had prepared for. And once he made sure everything of his was packed up, he dragged his bags into the kitchen.

As he looked around her kitchen, he couldn't help but be reminded of the woman who took him in. He smiled slightly as he found a notepad on the counter and began to write her a note.

"Thank you. -Michael" was all it said. He wanted to say more and he actually had to stop himself from getting into the details. But for the moment, he just needed to play it safe, and the less he told anyone, the better.

When he stepped outside, he was greeted with the sight of civilization. He found himself in Californian suburbia and it felt wonderful.

As he walked, there were a few people who stopped to watch him go. It felt strange, but he had to remember that he shared a face with someone famous so he smiled and said "hello" to everyone who looked his way.

He was only walking for about 15 minutes or so when a large black car came up and pulled beside him.

"Michael, my boy!" The man behind the wheel smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Michael frowned, unsure of what answer he was supposed to give.

"The boys called and told me that you were under the weather," the man continued and the statement startled Michael. Still, he put on a smile and nodded.

"I just needed to rest," he said and the man looked at him funny, like he had said something wrong. Quickly, he looked down at his feet.

"C-can I get a ride, actually?" He asked, surprised when the man nodded and reached over, opening the door for him.

"Thank you," he said quietly as he carried his suitcases in, placing them by his feet as he sat down.

"What's in there?" The man asked, looking over. Michael blushed slightly, not knowing what the right thing to say was.

"Just…things…" he finally said. Again, the man looked at him strangely, seemingly aware that there was something off. But he shrugged that off and began driving.

"I was on my way to the studio," the man explained as they drove. Michael lit up and turned to him. "Studio" most likely meant "recording studio", as in…a music studio.

"I can drop you off at your place," the man continued with a smile, turning the corner.

My place?

"R-really?" He stammered, already feeling the anxiety and excitement building up inside him. This was it.

"Of course," the man said. "After all, it's on the way."

Michael smiled and nodded, looking out the window at all the houses and buildings passing by him. Suddenly, the car began to slow down in front of a large house near the beach, eventually coming to a stop in front of it.

"Well," the man smiled, hopping out of the car. "Here we are."

Michael turned and stared at the house from the window for a moment before nodding and stepping out the car, grabbing his bags.

"Th-thank you," he stammered. The man grinned and patted him on the back.

"Of course," he said. "Hope you get to feelin' better, Mr. Nesmith."

Mr. Nesmith.

Michael smiled slightly and nodded, waving at the car as the man got back in and drove off into the distance. Once it was gone, he slowly turned around to face the house. There was something daunting and terrifying about it.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, picking up his suitcases. "It's just a house, and nothing's scary about a house."

After several deep breaths, he slowly was able to make his way up the driveway and froze in front of the door. He set his suitcases down on the pavement and knocked, stepping back slightly after knocking.

Breathe, he had to remind himself as he heard a click and the door opened.