It had been a week. A week of hearing apology after apology and "no news yet, kid."

Mike groaned as he stepped into the now empty Pad. He knew everyone had meant well but no amount of apologies and gifts were going to change anything. "I'm sorry" wasn't going to bring the other three back.

He let out a sigh as he threw his bag down onto the ground. Another failed job interview.

He had tried to look for work anywhere he could find it. First he tried going to local clubs himself, playing music. That idea had backfired practically the second after he started trying to play as a solo artist.

"Thanks, kid," they always said. "You were great. However, you're not exactly what we're looking for."

The Monkees had worked because of the other three. Now with them gone, no one wanted to hire the lanky and awkward guitarist in the hat.

Now, he was just looking for work anywhere he could get it. Today, it was an interview at an office. He didn't even know the company or what he needed to do there, all he saw was the hiring sign in the window that drew him in.

Looking around, Mike began to notice how big the room around him seemed. It hadn't changed but it was so empty now without the sound of music or laughter.

He frowned as he slowly approached the bandstand, the instruments now sitting out just to collect dust as time went by. It has been almost two weeks since the others disappearances, a few days of frantic searching and worrying, and a week of waiting for nothing at all. Mike didn't know how much longer of it he could take.

He let out a sigh as he traced his fingers along the neck of his own guitar, turning around to look at the other instruments, a wave of memories washing over him as he did.

Carefully, he picked up the guitar, wrapping the strap around his shoulder and picking a few of the strings. He winced slightly as he did, he hadn't played it in weeks and it was far out of tune.

He sighed, turning the pegs, trying to tune from his own memory, but he couldn't.

"Hey, Peter?" He called out. "Could you give me an E?"

No answer. Mike frowned and looked up, noticing no one was standing by the keyboard. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he remembered it all again. It was foolish to think that anyone was still there with him. He was alone, but he never felt alone. It almost always felt like the guys were right there with him, they were in the next room over, or hanging out at the beach. Even still, it had never truly sunk in how alone Mike really was right then. He couldn't be alone if they were right there with him.

He had been told that was just a part of the process. First it would be shock, then sadness, bargaining, anger, and finally acceptance. But he didn't give in just yet. There was still some part of foolish hope inside of him that believed everything would still be okay, simply because he wanted them to be. They weren't dead, they weren't missing, they weren't anything and they were still right there simply because he wanted them to be. Because he needed them to be.

He began to tune the guitar by ear, so lost in his mind that he couldn't hear it when the E note was played softly on the keyboard. After a moment of trying to tune it, he decided it was in tune enough to play. It still sounded slightly flat, but it didn't matter if he was playing alone. He started fiddling and molding a new melody, humming along as he fumbled through a guitar line. He didn't even realize that the song he was playing was the "Last Train To Clarksville". The first song he had ever written with the other three.

Once the realization hit, he instantly stopped. It felt strange and wrong not to be playing with the other three, especially on a song they all had contributed to. Letting out a sigh, he took off the guitar strap and set his Gretsch back on its stand, staring at the guitar closely as he did.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he pushed aside whatever strange feelings he had as he put the instrument away. Mike let out a sigh and stood as he tried to avoid looking around the dark and empty room. It was too much for him.

Finally, the combination of a hundred things got the better of Mike as he laid down on the couch, now beginning to cry silently. Eventually, the tears and stress put him to sleep, and for the first time in weeks, Mike dreamed.