Chapter 9- Finding Words

Peter Tork sat alone in the hospital room. The last few days had been a blur for him. Last thing he clearly remembered was Annette leaving the house to go get an ambulance. Since then everything happened so quickly he couldn't keep tabs on everything. Now he was in the hospital, alone with his thoughts. Nurses would come in and check on him, as would his doctor. Mildred visited once when she and Annette came into town to pick up groceries, but he hasn't seen them since.

He was told that they took him into surgery once he arrived and they put his ribs back into place. It would take a few weeks to heal, however. For Peter, the healing process couldn't be slower. He was told he has only been there for two days now, but it's felt more like an eternity. Peter found it unhealthy for them to leave him alone with his thoughts. All he could think about was his friends and the possible danger they could be in. He hated being left in the dark. Could they be dead? Did they know where he was? Annette told him that she couldn't get ahold of them, as well as the nurses who tried, and with each passing moment Peter feared that the life he once lead had died at the hands of BabyFace Morales.

There was a knock at the door. When Peter said it was okay, it opened to reveal a small, blonde nurse. "Mr. Tork, you have a visitor. Are you up to it?"

Assuming that it was Annette and Mildred, Peter replied. "Yeah, let them in." The nurse nodded and disappeared. She came back, opening the door farther, revealing a man standing in the doorway. Peter cocked an eyebrow. He did recognize this man before.

"Hello Mr. Tork." The man said coolly. "My name is Dr. Richie Osmond." By this point the nurse had left, leaving him and Peter alone. "I see you're being treated for my handiwork."

"Your handiwork?" Peter asked, looking down at his covered abdomen, picturing the injuries underneath. "You did this to me?"

"Of course. Do you really believe that BabyFace has the talent to perform such an operation?" Richie laughed before continuing. "I got three-hundred for that."

"Why are you here?" Peter asked nervously.

"To see how you were holding up. I always check in with my, er, patients before moving on to a new city. I'm not a bad man, Peter. I just wanted to earn an easy buck." Richie smiled, as if trying to wipe away the evil he was stating. "I'm an ex-war doctor, you see, and in this world, you've got to do what you've got to do to earn a living. My patients usually check out all right in the end, but don't tell Morales that." Richie chuckled.

"That's not right." Peter pouted.

"That's life, kid."

"I don't care. That's not right. Thanks to you, my whole life could be ruined."

"Now you're being over dramatic, kid."

"No, I'm not." Peter stated firmly. "Because you did this to me, my roommates are in a fit to find me, and if you're in league with BabyFace, he could have all three of them killed by now. Thanks to him I may never be able to return to the life I once lived, and I loved my life. It's people like you that make life miserable."

"Life's supposed to me miserable, kid. I've spent ten years of my life cutting people open and leaving them for dead."

"Why?"

Richie laughed. "Money is everything, kid. You need it to survive in this cruel world. What's going to pay for your bill, huh? Certainly not charity." Richie sighed, taking a deep breath. "Once I got out of the war, no hospital would hire me. They all thought I was not fit with all the gore I saw. I can't possibly imagine myself living any other way, so I joined the gang scene. I'll work for whoever hires me."

"That's still not right. Hurting people for a living, that's not right."

"I assume you're some sort of hippie." Richie stated almost coldly.

"I am whatever you think I am." Peter said just as coldly. "But the point is that hurting people for money isn't worth it. Life is more than just earning money to survive. In life, there are friends, music, art, beauty, energy, comfort, roughness, so many different qualities that you can't find sitting in one path. You need to explore the different parts of life, and you need to let other people enjoy it too. Hurting people changes the lives of not just the victim, but all of their friends and families. Not only do you hurt them physically, but emotionally as well.

Richie Osmond stood in silence, considering Peter's words. Before he could say another word, there was a knock on the door. "Mr. Tork?"

"Yes?"

"You have another visitor."

Peter looked up at Richie, but before he could say anything, Richie waved him off. "Talk to you later, kid." He shook his head and walked out of the room. The nurse gave him a quizzical look before turning her attention back to Peter. "Are you alright for another visitor?"

"Yes."

The nurse backed away, and the doorway was empty for a moment, before another figure walked into view. Peter felt his heart leap up into his throat. "M-Micky?" Peter stuttered, staring at the man.

"Peter!" Micky smiled, running into the room and engulfing him in a hug.

"Micky!" Peter gasped, taken aback by the hug. "Micky, is it really you?"

"Of course, man! Who else would it be?" Micky sat down on the bed and looked at Peter. They both knew the answer to that question and quickly sobered up.

"Where's Mike and Davy?" Peter asked, their nerves subsiding.

Micky frowned. "I- I don't know, really. No one's picking up at home." Peter knew the look on Micky's face replicated the fears he was having all day. He didn't know if Davy and Mike were hurt, or even alive. "Mike sent me to find you. BabyFace… He took Davy. Mike said he was going to save Davy while I found you."

"What does he want with us?" Peter asked, assuming Micky didn't know the answer.

"He wants me dead." Micky said simply.

"Why does he want you dead? What have you ever done to him? Besides put him in prison, that is."

"The way Mike described it, it sounds like BabyFace just doesn't want any look-alikes around." Micky said.

"Oh…" Peter said, contemplating this new information. "What does that have to do with us, then? Davy, Mike, and I, I mean."

Micky shrugged. "You're my friends. He used you as bait. Send Mike off on a wild goose chase to find you while I turn myself in to save Davy. Boy, I hope they're okay…" Micky sighed, looking down at his hands, unable to give Peter more information.

Peter noticed this and placed a hand on Micky's shoulder. "They're going to be okay, Mick. We're the Monkees, we always get out of fixes like this."

Micky looked up to see the soft smile Peter was known for. He returned the smile and said. "I'm not going to leave you here alone, Pete. I'll just keep trying to get ahold of Mike, and when you feel better, we'll go home."

"I like that plan." Peter said.

"I do too."

Richie Osmond stepped out into the cool, crisp January air. A shiver ran down his spine as he walked over to his car. He couldn't get that kid's words out of his head. Hurting people for money isn't worth it. Life is more than just earning money to survive. Was there really something to these words?

There was a man leaning against his car. A surge of anger filled up inside Richie. No one dared touch his car. He began to walk faster towards the man, but once he realized it was one of BabyFace Morales's henchmen, he slowed down. "What do you want?" He ordered.

"The boss needs you for another job." The thug said simply, getting off the car. "He's willing to pay six-hundred for the pair of them."

Richie considered the offer next to Peter's words. Was it worth it? Doing it one more time can't be that bad. Once he gets out of Los Banos he can start anew. "Alright. Same place?"

"Yeah. He needs to capture the rats first, though. We want to keep you close by." The thug said, clearing his throat.

"Fair enough. I'll follow you." Richie said, getting into his car. One last time, Rich. It's for six-hundred dollars, anyhow.