"Hi Mr. Dolenz?"

"Yes?" Micky asked.

"I hear you have a concussion." The doctor said,

"What?" Micky said confused "I don't Mike does."

Mike giggled and hid his face in his hands.

"Mike?" Peter asked, nudging him gently. He looked up at Peter then at the doctor.

"Hi." Mike said through laughs. Micky sighed.

"I'm Micky Dolenz, I don't have a concussion, the giggling nut on the table is Mike Nesmith. He has a concussion."

"Hi!" Mike said again, happily waving.

"Hi Mr. Nesmith." The doctor said waving to him. "Let's take a look and see what we're dealing with here okay?"

"Can I go to nap?" Mike asked.

"I'm afraid not," the doctor explained, pulling out a clipboard. Mike frowned and laid down, once again hiding his face in his hands.

"I wanna sleeeeeep," he whined.

"Mike, I know you do," Micky said "but you just have to stay awake for a bit long, then you can go to sleep. I promise."

"NO!" Mike screamed and turned away from them all.

"Mike…?" Peter whispered, placing his hand on his back. Mike tensed up and turned around, practically throwing Peter away from him.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Mr. Nesmith," Dr. Harrison said, alarmed "Please calm down, it's okay. Can I examine you?"

"No!" Mike snapped, literally kicking the doctor away from him. "I don't want you to! I just wanna…" his voice trailed off as a wave of fatigue came over him.

"I just wanna sleep, please, I'm so tired. My head hurts. Micky? Can I sleep…please." Before Micky could answer him Mike's eyes closed and he slumped forward.

"Mike!" Peter yelped, laying him down and shaking him. "Come on, Mike! Please, you're not supposed to sleep!"

"I'm tired Mick," Mike said "and my head hurts, ain't that what you're supposed to do with a stomach ache? Sleep, sleep helps."

"You have a stomach ache?" Micky frowned, looking at the doctor, hoping for a possible explanation.

"I think he means headache." Dr. Harrison said.

"Oh," Micky said "No, Mike, you're not. You need to stay awake."

"I'm going to get a gurney for him. He needs to have a CT scan." Dr. Harrison said "If you could possibly help him take off his clothing and anything medal he may have and put a gown on while I'm gone that would be helpful."

Micky nodded.

"Yeah, we can do that."

The doctor nodded before heading out of the room.

"Hey, Mike?" Davy asked, shaking his good shoulder. "You still with us?"

"Go 'way," Mike groaned, closing his eyes.

"Sorry buddy," Micky said "But you need to get out of your street clothing and into a hospital gown."

"Make me." Mike said. Micky sighed.

"Mike, you can have me, Peter or Davy help you. You pick or I will." Micky said.

"I vote you all piss off and let me sleep." Mike said.

"Okay, Davy, Pete, out." Micky said. Peter and Davy stepped out of the room, Peter giving a sad "bye Mike" before leaving. Micky let out a heavy sigh as he began to take off Mike's wristwatch.

"What're you doing?" He hissed angrily.

"Getting you ready," Micky sighed, setting the watch down on the counter. "You know it'll be much easier for the both of us if you just let me help you."

"Help me what?" Mike asked.

"You need to go in for a brain scan Mike, you need to get into the hospital gown." Micky said.

"Oh, why?" Mike asked, "I'm tired."

"I know you are bub, but you can't sleep yet," Micky said "now can you get your shirt and pants off of do you want me to help?"

"What?" Mike asked. Micky sighed.

"You're gonna need to take off your clothes and get in the gown for the machine, Mike. One way or another, you're doing it."

"Piss off," Mike growled, turning away from him.

"I could get someone to come in here and give you something probably so it'll be easier." Micky said. Mike glared at him.

"You wouldn't." He said, wincing as his head pounded. Micky just looked at him.

"It's your choice Mike." He said.

"They wanna get a scan of your head," Micky explained sitting down. "It might help them figure out what's wrong and help with your headaches. You're supposed to get out of your clothes and into a gown, I guess so that it won't dirty up the machine, or something."

He sighed and looked at Mike, who still had his back toward him.

"If you don't wanna do it, I can tell someone and you won't have to. But if you want my opinion, I really think you should." Mike sighed and turned around to look at him.

"Do you really think it'll explain my headaches?" he asked.

"Yeah Mike I really do." Micky said. "They can't help you until they can see the problem."

"Okay," Mike said "but I want you there."

"Of course I'll be there." Micky said "I'm not leaving your side."

"Okay," Mike said nodding, "those other two who were in here."

"Peter and Davy?" Micky asked.

"Yeah, who are they?" Mike asked. Micky sighed.

"They're our friends," he said, trying to hide the sadness in his tone. "You don't recognize them?" Mike shook his head no.

"But you know me." Micky said. Mike shrugged.

"Well, I-I'll introduce you to them a little later."

Mike nodded and looked down.

"Am I supposed to know them?"

Micky smiled.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" He hesitated a moment. "But…you've known them as long as you've known me. We've all lived together for years…do you really not…remember any of that?"

"I know we," He pointed between himself and Micky "live together in a beach house. You were talking about finding some roommates to help with the rent because the landlord was going to raise the rent and that I'm doing odd jobs and you're a grocery runner."

Micky nodded, he remembered all of that too.

"Mike, that was…that was in, like, 65. You don't remember anything since then."

Mike frowned and squinted.

"What year is it?" He asked.

"1969, Mike." Micky sighed. "A lot has happened in those four years. Peter and Davy moved in, we started a band, you started roller skating and really liked it. And you were really good and in the middle of a tournament when you…do you…does any of that ring a bell at all?" Mike smiled slightly.

"I do like roller skating, and I can skateboard."

"But you don't remember any of this?" Micky asked. Mike shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Hey, don't worry. It's not your fault, okay?" Micky let out a sigh and smiled.

"Let's get you undressed and into that gown okay?" Micky said "That…sounded wrong." Mike laughed a little as he tried to unbutton his shirt.

"My fingers don't want to work Micky." Mike said after a few minutes of struggling.

"Oh, okay, here, I'll help ya." Micky said as he went over and unbuttoned Mikes shirt and pulled the gown off the door, soon Mike was in the gown and a knock came on the door.