Author's notes: This chapter is based on Crystal Rose of Pollux's chapter of the same name, and will also have several parts. They will focus on Peter and Micky's side of the story. All diologue was written by Crystal Rose of Pollux, and some of the descriptive passages as well. Enjoy!

Peter was sitting on the couch, thinking about writing a new song. He didn't know what it would be about yet, but he had a few key words floating around in his head, and he was humming a little tune, trying to find something that sounded good, when there was a knock at the door.

Davy stood up and walked over to the door, opening the peephole and standing directly underneath it. Peter couldn't help but smile at the sight. He was secretly convinced that Davy always did that as a joke just to amuse them, and he was sure that whenever Davy was alone in the pad, he answered the door without even bothering to check who it was.

Either that or he got a stool.

Davy opened the door to reveal none other than Millie Rudnick. Well, she wasn't a Rudnick anymore, having married Larry the moving guy. But all the Monkees still thought of her as a Rudnick.

"Hey," Davy said cheerily. "How's it going?"

"Oh, it's going great, Davy—just great!" Millie said, grinning. "Hey, is Mike home?"

"Mike?" Davy asked. "He and Micky are out getting our meal fixings; it's just Peter and me right now—"

"Hi!" Peter called out, smiling at Millie. She reminded him of Micky's mother, mixed with Aunt Franny and, for some reason, a criminal boss known as "the Big Man," or, Bessie Kowalski, as she was known by her fans(?).

"Hi, Peter," Millie replied, smiling over Davy's shoulder at him before turning back to Davy. "Well, can you two boys do me a favor?" She said. "I need you to give this number to Mike."

She handed Davy a piece of paper.

"What's this for?" Davy asked, looking down at it.

"Well…" Millie sighed. "You know that time I was staying here with you boys? I asked Mike if there was anything I could do for him. And he just looked at me with those brown eyes of his and asked me to make him a success."

"Oh…" Davy said quietly as Peter smiled. That seemed like something Mike would say.

"Larry and I are helping this fella move to Phoenix," Mille said, pointing at somethig that was written on the piece of paper. "He's a music producer, and he's getting together some country-western singers and songwriters. He's going to throw a little talent show for them, and he'll sign on the winner to a recording contract."

Peter's eyes grew wide at this bit of news. A thrill of happiness for Mike went down his spine. "Wow," He said. "Mike would win that hands down!"

"You're not kidding," Millie said. "That's why I want him to give our client a call; he said he's more than willing to have Mike come along to Phoenix with us and take part in the talent show."

Davy stared at the piece of paper and then looked up to Millie.

"Right," he said. "We'll tell Mike as soon as he gets back."

Millie blinked.

"Is something wrong, Davy?"

"No, I'm fine," he said with a smile. "Hey, thanks for this; I know Mike will appreciate it!"

Millie smiled back and left with a cheery wave, but Davy's smile faded as he closed the door after her.

"She's right; something's wrong with you," Peter said, folding his arms. "Davy, come on! I thought you'd be happy for Mike!" A terrible thought entered unbidden into Peter's mind. "…You're not jealous, are you?"

"Of course I'm not jealous!" Davy said, much to Peter's relief. "Mike's our leader, and goodness knows that he's been wanting a chance like this for as long as I've known him! I'm happy for him; I really am!"

But Peter wasn't that easily satisfied. He'd known Davy for a long time, although admittedly not as long as Mike had known him, and he knew when something was wrong. "Then… why the gloom?" He prompted.

"If he wins this thing, he gets that contract," Davy explained. "He'd probably have to move down to Phoenix. And if that producer only wants country-western music, he won't want us there to complicate things."

"Oh," Peter said. That made sense, the rest of the Monkees weren't much into the country-western sound, if they were along, they could hurt Mike's chances... His eyes widened as he realized what that meant. "Oh…" He said quietly.

"Exactly," Davy said.

Peter picked at his bass, the happy little tune he'd been thinking of taking a more solemn tone as he thought. If Mike got this contract and moved to Phoenix, and the three other Monkees stayed here in the Malibu and LA area, that would be it for their band.

No more Monkees, he thought with a jolt.

"What happens now?" he asked, after some time.

Davy sat down on the backless couch, staring at the paper.

"We have to tell him," he said. "Whether we like it or not. Mike has done so much for us; if the time has come that he needs to look after himself and…" He swallowed hard, and Peter almost wanted to cover the younger boy's mouth, he felt sure he knew what Davy was about to say. "…Leave us behind, then, as his friends, we owe it to him to say goodbye and good luck." He sighed. "I promised him that I would do my best to help him achieve his dream of being a success. If that means letting him go, then I have no choice but to keep my word and do it."

"I always thought that if we became successes, it'd be together," Peter said, feeling a lump begin to grow in the back of his throat. "That's the way I wanted it…"

"That's the way I wanted it, too," Davy said. "But I don't like the idea of the three of us dragging down Mike. He feels obligated to stay with us and help us—so he never gets a chance to try to chase his own dream. I want him to be the success that he wants to be. Mike deserves that."

"I deserve what, now?" Mike asked, as he opened the front door in time to hear that last bit.

Peter started, feeling his ears grow red as he tried to keep from crying out "MIKE, DON'T LEAVE US!" Like he so desperately wanted to.

"Millie Rudnick was just here," Davy said. "She wanted us to give you the phone number of a music producer going to Phoenix…" With that, Davy started to tell about the whole thing as Mike and Micky both listened in awe.

"Wow, Man," Micky sighed when Davy was finished. "Mike, you'd be a shoe-in to win and get the contract!"

"Just like you've always wanted," Davy said as Peter looked at Micky. His friend hadn't realized what Mike's success would mean to the rest of the band, and he was trying to let Micky into the loop with his expression, but Micky was missing it.

Mike stared eagerly down at the piece of paper.

"I'd hate to ditch you guys," he said. "But if y'all think you can get along without me for a few days—"

"Hey, we'll be fine!" Micky said, as Peter tried not to let out a small sob. Mike was already talking about leaving. "You go for this thing!" Micky said happily.

Mike didn't need telling twice; he was on the phone in an instant, calling up the producer and introducing himself.

"Isn't this great?" Micky said, watching him. "Our Mike's gonna get his big break at last—a recording contract! …Hey, what's with you two?"

"What happens when Mike wins that recording contract?" Davy asked, rhetorically.

"Well, he'll become famous, he'll go on tours and spend all his time with the…" Micky trailed off as the sudden realization struck him.

The three turned their attention to Mike, who was singing a few bars of "Oklahoma Backroom Dancer" over the phone. The grin on his face, though, was a wonderful sight to behold—they couldn't deny that.

"So… what do we do?" Micky said.

"Like I told Peter," Davy said. "We let him go, and wish him well."

Micky blinked, but nodded. Further discussion was halted as Mike got off the phone, grinning ear to ear and talking a mile a minute.

"Hey, fellas, I'm heading to Phoenix tomorrow morning; they're getting an early start tomorrow, so I'll probably be gone by the time you guys wake up, but the groceries are here, so y'all should be just fine. I'll be riding with them, so I'll leave the Monkeemobile here in case you need it. I'm just going to grab my guitar and some clothes and fine-tune some of these compositions tonight…"

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, still rambling.

"He hasn't even got the contract yet, and he's over the moon," Micky said. "Man, it'll be worth being a trio to see him so happy."

"I guess so," Peter said, feeling guilty. Here he was, being selfish. Mike had the chance to live out his dream and be a real success, just like he'd always wanted, and Peter was upset because of it. Maybe... was he jealous?

No, he didn't think so. As much as he wanted the band to do well, being a success hadn't ever really been his dream. He was here because he liked to play music and he wanted to help Micky be a success.

Maybe he was upset because it felt like Mike was leaving them forever. Yeah, that was probably it. He considered Mike one of his best friends, he'd known him for around two years now, and it felt like Mike didn't even care.

Peter banished that thought as quickly as it had come. Of course Mike cared about them, and it was wrong for Peter to think otherwise, after everything Mike had done for them.

"Hey, Davy, you remember this?!" Mike said, appearing at the top of the stairs, pulling out the blue-star-studded white Stetson that he'd been wearing when Micky and Peter had first met him and Davy. "I got the whole suit up here, just waiting to be used at that Phoenix show!"

"Of course I remember it," Davy said, his happiness sounding forced. "I still have the Royal Guardsman's uniform you gave me, too."

"Well, I gotta thank you again for this; it'll be perfect!" Mike said, disappearing back into the room.

Peter felt like he couldn't stand this stillness for much longer, and judging by Micky's fidgeting on the couch, he couldn't either. So it wasn't long before he, Micky and Davy all began to make dinner, even though Peter didn't have much of an appetite anymore. He just needed something to keep him busy.

When dinner was ready, Mike took a break from his packing to eat something, although his mind was clearly everywhere but on the food he was eating. Which was good, because even though they tried to act as normal as usual, Peter couldn't bring himself to eat much, and he didn't want to worry Mike if he noticed.

After dinner, Mike continued packing, saying that he would probably be gone before they woke up the next morning.

Micky couldn't take sitting around doing nothing, so he went to bed fairly early. Peter stayed down longer, simply because he didn't want to let Mike out of his sight. He had this unpleasant feeling in his gut that if he so much as blinked, Mike would disappear and never come home again.

Finally, however, Peter decided he was done fighting back tears and decided to head up to bed.

He hesitated on the stairs, feeling like he should give Mike one last farewell. Peter had always liked that word. Farewell didn't mean goodbye, it meant good luck, and there was a certain amount of hope in the word, as if the speaker were saying "until next time."

But Peter just couldn't bring himself to say anything at all, so after opening and shutting his mouth for a moment, he turned and went into the room he and Davy shared.

He got dressed in his pajamas and then crawled under the covers, making sure he was facing away from the door and Davy's bed. Then, all the emotion he had been keeping pent up for the past few hours broke through his defenses, and he cried silently until he fell asleep.