As Tasha held her gun up to Micky's head, she looked wildly about the room and backed towards the door slowly. "Alright," she said. "Nobody try anything! Everyone just hold still, and stay where you are!"

"Why do you want Micky!?" Peter demanded, looking up from where he was kneeling on the floor next to Mike, who seemed to be thinking.

"That's simple," Tasha said. "He's got the ruby."

"You mean this ruby?" Micky asked, holding it up and then dropping it.

"No!" Tasha said, momentarily distracted by the falling ruby. As she reached out to try and catch it, three things happened. First Howie, who had been poised nearby, ready to strike if he had an opening, jumped up and pulled Micky away from Tasha. Then Mike, who had also seen an opening, ran up and wrestled the gun away from her hand, then pointed it at her. And finally Miss Hampton ran forward and snatched the ruby from the floor.

"Oh my goodness," she said, clutching the precious gem. "I think I'm going to faint!"

Mike, still pointing Tasha's gun at her, lowered it once the guards stepped forward and placed her in handcuffs. Then he turned to Micky. "You alright?" He asked.

"Am I!" Micky said with a grin. "Did you see how fast I thought that up?"

Mike cleared his throat. "Ehm, you mean when you dropped the ruby? Yeah, that was quick thinking," he said, silently telling Micky to shut up before he revealed anything.

Luckily, Micky got the message. "Oh, uh, yeah!" He said. "Yeah, when I dropped the ruby. Haha, what else would I have thought up? That's all I came up with! Nothing else suspicious at all!"

Mike cleared his throat again, this time giving Micky a "shut up now!" look.

Luckily, everyone was too busy crowding Miss Hampton, who had actually fainted, apparently. Mike let out a deep breath.

"Don't think this is the last you'll see of me," Tasha said, glaring at them. "I'm the best of the best! Nobody can stop me!"

"That's funny," Davy quipped. "Seems to me we stopped you pretty fast."

Tasha gasped and glared at Davy, who smirked back. "I'll get you!" She screamed as she was led out the door. "I'll get all of you! I swear, I'll get you, you stupid Monkees!"

The door closed behind her, and everyone in the room was silent for a moment.

"Well," Howie said. "Now wasn't that a bit of excitement! I, for one, am absolutely exhausted! We should get home. Come on, boys, go pack your instruments."

"Wait just a moment!" Sir Hampton exclaimed, walking up to the Monkees, who braced themselves for the worst.

"Boys," Sir Hampton said. "Don't think you can get away from me so easily, I know what you're up to!"

Micky swallowed. "You do?" He asked.

"Of course!" Sir Hampton said. "It's obvious what's going on here! You boys are too modest to accept the praise that you deserve, stopping that thief from stealing my wife's great-grandfather's famous ruby! Why, you showed true bravery tonight!"

"Oh," Micky said with a sigh of relief. "That's good. Yeah, I guess we were pretty brave."

"Of course you were," Sir Hampton said. "You boys should be knighted! But, since we don't exactly do that, and I have no authority to perform such a feat at all, I'll simply have to reward you with a monetary gift!"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Mike said.

"Come on, boy, don't be so modest!" Sir Hampton said.

"Yeah, Mike, don't be so modest!" Micky said. "Really! Sir Hampton is being very generous, it would just be rude to snub him!"

"Quite right," Sir Hampton said. "Quite right. Now then," he said, pulling a wallet out of his jacket. "There's fifty dollars for each of you!"

"Fi- did you say- wow, really?" Mike said, eyes wide as he accepted the bill. "Fifty dollars! Wow, thanks, Mr. Hampton, this is- just, wow!"

"Boy, you said it," Micky said, staring at his own crisp fifty-dollar bill in awe.

"I'll be able to afford dinner for two every night for a week straight!" Davy said.

"Please," Peter said. "I don't need any reward, really, you can keep your money."

The other Monkees looked at Peter in surprise, but Sir Hampton merely laughed. "Don't worry about breaking the bank, dear boy," he said. "I have plenty more where that came from! That was barely scratching the surface of my daily spending budget!"

"I don't mind, really," Peter said. "Please, you can keep your money."

"My boy, I insist!" Sir Hampton said. "You helped to rescue my wife's ruby. I simply must reward you for such an act of bravery! Take the money, I insist!"

Peter hesitated, then he shoved the bill in his pocket. "Thanks," He said quietly.

"There, that's better," Sir Hampton said with a smile before turning to Howie. "And there's one for you too, Mr. Bessetti," he said, handing a bill to Howie. "You might have well saved this young man's life!"

"Oh, it was what any one of them would have done, had they had the chance," Howie said, but he accepted the bill nonetheless. "Thank you kindly, Sir Hampton, and I hope your wife feels better in the morning!"

"Oh, she will," Sir Hampton said, glancing over his shoulder at his wife, who had awoken and was now being fussed over. "She does it for the attention," he explained. "At any rate, thank you boys once again, I hope you all have a safe trip home!"

"Thank you, and thank you for the lovely party!" Howie said, smiling and giving a slight bow before turning and leaving.

The Monkees, after audibly wondering whether or not they were supposed to bow to Sir Hampton, or if Howie had just been bowing because that was something he did, decided not to risk it and they all bowed stiffly before packing up their instruments and following Howie out to the car.

The ride home was silent, Howie drove the car stiffly, looking straight ahead the whole time and frowing slightly, and Peter sat in the back and stared pensively out the window. The other Monkees could feel the tension, and although Micky and Davy talked quietly for a little while, the silence soon spread. The drive was only twenty minutes, but it seemed to stretch on for an hour.

Finally, when they turned down Locust Street, Peter spoke. "I'm sorry we wrecked your heist," he said.

"What?" Howie said, frowning a bit deeper. "Oh. Oh! Peter, that didn't matter. I'm sorry I got you pulled into it, I never should have sprung it on you last minute like that. And most of all, I'm sorry you boys almost got hurt. You hear that, Micky-Mouse? I'm sorry you almost got hurt. That was some pretty impressive performance you did. Have you ever considered the gang life? We could use talent like yours."

Micky, who had been smiling at the praise, paused, his grin slowly fading. "Uh, actually, I have a small bit of experience with gangs," he said. "It's not a life for me. I'm leaving the whole gang-member thing to Babyface. If I got involved now, people would keep mixing us up, and I don't want anyone mistaking me for that sleazy, rotten, rat-faced ugly beast!"

Howie blinked, but nodded. "That makes sense," He said. He pulled the car into the driveway and stopped the engine. "I'm not upset about the ruby, Peter," He said, opening the door and stepping out.. "I mean, I'm a little upset that we didn't get it, but Tasha didn't get it either, and besides, the night wasn't a total loss. We each got fifty bucks. That's something."

Mike noticed a brief flash of irritation play across Peter's face, but then Peter opened the car door and stepped out, so Mike decided to just ask him about it later.

They brought all their instruments into the house, and then Davy yawned, which caused Howie to yawn, and then Mike and Peter yawned, and finally Micky yawned, and by that time, Davy yawned again, so they all agreed it was time for bed.

"Mike, will you drive me to New Milford?"

Mike looked up in surprise at Peter, who was standing in the doorway nervously. His mood hadn't changed since the night before, and even Marissa had noticed it.

"Why are you sad?" She'd asked him earlier. "Oh, I'm not sad," He'd said, giving her a small smile. But he hadn't fooled anyone else.

Mike thought about asking Peter what was going on his head right now, but he decided he'd probably have better luck getting him to open up if they were somewhere else.

"Sure, Pete," he said. "Any particular reason?"

"Oh, you know," Peter said, looking away and shrugging. "Change of scenery" He suggested.

Mike chuckled. "Alright," he said. "Let me grab my keys."

Mike waited until they were out of town before asking questions. "Peter, what's on your mind?" He asked. "And don't say 'nothing,' we all know it's not true."

Peter, who had been about to say that there was nothing wrong, blinked, then chuckled. "I can't pull anything past you guys, can I?" He joked.

"Nope, you can't," Mike said. "Now, tell me, what's up? Why are we really going to New Milford?"

Peter hesitated. "Well..." He said. "You see, it's just... Tasha didn't steal the ruby, we did. Howie and I."

"You're not upset that she got arrested, are you?" Mike said. "She was going to steal the ruby, and she would have hurt you to get it."

"Oh, I know that," Peter said. "I'm not upset she was arrested. That's not it."

"Then what's bugging you?" Mike asked.

"It's just... he gave me fifty dollars," Peter said.

Mike frowned, what did that have to do with... Oh. "You feel like you don't deserve it, because you actually did steal the ruby," he said. "Is that it?"

Peter nodded. "He gave us the money because we saved his ruby from Tasha. But I helped steal it first. I didn't deserve any reward. It was my fault the ruby was in danger anyway."

"Now look here," Mike said. "It was not your fault! If it was anyone's fault, it was Howie's, for convincing you to go along with his scheme in the first place."

"But he didn't force me to help him," Peter said. "You know what I should've done, I should've said no right from the start. I should have refused. I should never have followed him into that library, and I never should have left with the ruby still in my pocket. Even if it wasn't my idea, I helped steal that ruby, in fact, I was closer to stealing it than Tasha, and she's a master thief."

"Peter, you're not planning on turning yourself in to the New Milford police, are you?" Mike asked warily. "Because if you are, I'm turning this car around right now."

"No, I'm not planning on turning myself in," Peter said with a chuckle. "I'm just going to return that fifty dollars."

"Sir Hampton's not going to accept it," Mike reminded him.

"Oh, I know," Peter said. "I'm going to donate it anonymously to the museum of precious stones and gems. He'll never know, and now that the ruby almost got stolen, they'll probably put it back on permanent display there to keep it safe, so the money will be used to protect the ruby."

Mike blinked. Peter had really thought this through. "Well," he said. "I'm proud of you, Pete. But are you sure you want to do this? I'm telling you, that whole thing was definitely not your fault, and it's hard to come by so much money. You could probably afford to get that new keyboard you've been wanting."

Peter hesitated, he hadn't thought of that. Then he shook his head. "I want to donate it," he said. "Even if stealing the ruby wasn't my fault, I don't really deserve the reward. You and Micky really did it all. I just stood there."

"Fair enough," Mike said as they took the exit to New Milford. "Just remember, Pete, it's not your fault."

While Mike and Peter were gone, Micky was sitting at the kitchen table, talking with Polly and Davy, when Marissa ran in through the back door, smiling. "Mama," she said. "Guess what!"

"What?" Polly asked her.

"The fair's in town!" Marissa exclaimed excitedly. "I saw the ferris wheel, and there's a clown, and that spinny ride that goes up, and there's all sorts of games and prizes, can we go, please? It looks so fun!"

"Yes, I'd heard it would be here this week," Polly said. "But I'm afraid I'm too busy to go today, sweetie. Maybe tomorrow."

Marissa sighed. "Okay," she said. Then she saw Micky and Davy, and her face brightened. "Mama," She said, running up and climbing into Micky's lap. "Maybe Davy and Uncle Micky could take me!"

"Wait a minute, 'Uncle' Micky!?" Davy exclaimed, while Micky grinned smugly.

"What can I say?" He said. "Kids love me."

"Don't feel bad, Davy," Marissa said. "Peter's my brother, Mike's my new brother, Micky can be my uncle, and you're my best friend. I love all of you the same, just in different styles and stuff."

Davy looked down at her suspiciously, having seen firsthand how manipulative she could be, but didn't say anything.

"Marissa, you can't just expect the boys to go with you everywhere," Polly said. "Maybe they have plans."

"Oh, it's no bother," Micky said, still grinning. "I wouldn't mind going to a fair, and I love playing with Marissa. I'd be glad to take her!"

"Me too!" Davy said, not willing to be outdone by Micky. "We could spend the morning there, and be back by lunch!"

"Well, I suppose if you really want to," Polly said. "I don't really mind you boys taking her there. But maybe you should wait until Peter and Mike get back. I'm sure they'd love to go with you."

"Yeah," Marissa said. "We going to wait until Petah and Mike get back!"

Micky sighed. "I guess so," he said. "I was hoping to be your favorite this trip, though."

"Silly Uncle Micky," Marissa said, smiling and shaking her head. "No favorites. That's no fun at all."

Micky got the strangest feeling that Marissa was toying with him, but shook it off. She was four years old, she was practically a baby. She couldn't be that manipulative.

He was distracted from his thoughts as the front door opened and Mike came in, followed by Peter. Micky smiled, Peter seemed to have gotten over his mood from earlier, whatever Mike had said while they were out had done him a world of good.

"Petah! Mike!" Marissa squealed in delight, jumping down from Micky's lap in favor of running over to the two boys and demanding to be picked up by Peter.

Polly smiled. "You boys are spoiling her," she said. "And let me tell you, she is milking it!"

At the door, Marissa was informing Mike and Peter of their plans to go to the fair, and they both agreed that it sounded fun, so the four boys and Marissa donned their jackets and walked over to the fair.

"Alright," Mike said, walking up to the group after buying some tickets. "I've got the tickets, where do ya'll wanna go first?"

"That one," Marissa said, pointing towards a tilt-a-whirl a short distance away.

"I think we should ride all of them," Micky said, glancing at a food kiosk nearby. "And then I want to get some fair-food. Those bratwurst are smelling pretty good."

"Alright," Mike said. "Let's go."

They only took a few steps, however, before they were interrupted by a sudden blur, and Peter was knocked to the ground. "Ugh," he said. "Hello, Pointy."

"Hello, Pete!" The young man said, reaching his hand down to help Peter to his feet before it registered to the Monkees what had even happened.

Peter stood up and brushed the dust off his shirt. "I wish you would just come up and talk to me like a normal person," He said.

"And I wish I could figure out why you expect me to stop," Pointy said with a grin. "It's too much fun. Plus, you're the only person who's never punched me for running into you repeatedly."

"I don't understand," Davy said. "Why do you insist on running into people?"

"Because he likes puns," Peter said grimly.

"Uh, what?" Micky asked in confusion.

"I like saying that I ran into old friends," Pointy explained. "It's just about as funny as saying that I 'got over' my fear of hurdles, or that knowing sign language is a 'handy' skill to have."

"You're never gonna let me live that last one down, are you?" Peter asked.

Pointy grinned. "Nope," he said. "I would sign something to attest to that fact, but I gotta hand it to you, my language skills are all write at best."

"Oh, wow," Mike said, staring at Pointy. "That was horrible."

"It was, wasn't it?" Pointy said with a grin. "Well, at any rate, I see you brought Marissa. She's probably waiting to try out a few rides, so I won't keep you waiting. Hey, can I hang out with you guys for awhile? I've got some time to kill."

"I guess that would be alright," Micky said.

"Thanks," Pointy said. "There's safety in numbers, and all that."

"What?" Davy asked as they all walked over to the ride.

"Well, if time found out I was killing it, it might get ticked off," Pointy explained. "And then it's only a matter of time before it gets it's hands on you, and then BAM! Time's up."

The Monkees all exchanged glances. This was going to get real tiresome real fast.