*Apologies, formatting messed up again just like it did on one of the other chapters. I also didn't have the original document so had to go back and rewrite, mostly from memory. Here's a happier chapter after all the angst from this story and Stars*
It was Peter's idea. He had gone and taken a double shift at the grocery store just to set it into action. Micky had become so used to working these days. It was to take the day off. Things needed to be done, and he was suddenly not allowed to do anything. They told him to rest and relax. He appreciated their concern, but it didn't feel deserved. He wasn't sick. Just a little tired, that was all.
He had crashed at dinner the night before, terrifying the other two. Well, three. Davy had brought Molly to dinner that night to meet Micky and Peter.
"I'm fine," he pleaded, "really, I am!"
Peter looked at him, almost angrily.
"When your body tries to tell you something like that, listen to it next time. Please, I don't want you to get hurt."
He had been pushing himself, and knowingly too. He spent most of that morning watching the clock. Davy had a date, Peter was at work, and neither would be coming home anytime soon. He stood from the couch and made his way over to the bandstand. Peter's acoustic was leaning against the wall. Micky took it carefully and sat down with it on his lap. He wasn't a great guitarist, and Mike would kill him if he touched the 12-string Gretsch, but he missed the music. There always used to be music in the Pad, even if it was just silverware clinking on bowls and plates. When it had been silenced, everyone wanted it back. But no one knew the right way to do so.
He tuned it by ear and began picking a melody he remembered.
"No heartaches felt, no long and lonely nights of waiting, finally won me happiness that's all rolled up in you." He sang softly, cracking a smile. He always liked that song.
"And now, with you as inspiration, I look toward a destination. Sunny, bright, that once before was blue. I have no more than I did before, but now I've got all that I need. For I love you and I know you love me."
He stopped playing, becoming overwhelmed with emotion. At that moment, Micky understood what Peter had meant about Mike's presence being so strong in the Pad. It was like he was right there, sitting beside him.
He took a deep breath, returning the guitar to its place. He shouldn't have touched it. He took a minute to compose himself before grabbing his coat and keys; heading out the door.
By this point in time, Micky knew his way around the hospital. There was a sad familiarity to it all that he didn't want to think about.
He made his way to Mike's room but stopped and froze in the hallway when he saw a doctor there, scribbling notes onto a clipboard. He wasn't being very discreet as when she was done writing, she smiled at him and said:
"You can come in now, Mr. Dolenz."
He nodded and whispered "thank you" as she left down the hall. He crept in, and his heart seemed to stop for a second.
"Mike-!" He choked out, "you-"
The first thing he had noticed was the tube and machine that had been helping Mike breathe this whole time. Both were gone. His face looked less pale, bruises beginning to heal to.
Micky bolted over, kneeling down and squeezing Mike's hand.
"Oh, Mike! You're doing it! I'm so proud of you, babe. We all are."
He didn't try to stop the tears from falling down. He buried his forehead in the back of the Texan's hand.
"Just hang in there. Keep on keeping on."