Author's Note: Ok, school's starting tomorrow, so homework comes first. (yes, it does, Midgie) So I may have more time between postings. But more reviews would motivate me to write faster.

Chapter 14: Drugged

"How do we get her out of there?" Peter asked as Micky pulled up to the hotel parking lot and looked at the room Heather was in.

"I don't know," Micky answered. Before they had to think too hard on it, she walked out on her own. "Well that's convenient. Let's make this fast before she comes back."

"Micky, I don't like this," Peter said as he followed behind Micky. Micky sighed heavily as he put the key in the lock.

"I know you don't, Peter," Micky said opening the door. "But it has to be done. To protect Mike."

"Maybe I should have stayed home and Davy should have come with you," Peter said following Micky in.

"No," Micky said. "Davy wouldn't be able to stop me from hurting Heather if I got the urge. You would."

"Ok," Peter relented.

"Stay watch," Micky said as he started looking around the room. Peter stood by the door and watched out the window for her. Micky moved first to the closet and opened it. Inside were only a few clothes, but most of them looked pretty skimpy. "Well, these don't exactly help support the new little good girl image she's trying to pass off to Mike."

"Maybe she just hasn't had time to go shopping," Peter suggested innocently. Micky shook his head a little and moved on to the dresser next to the bed. He pulled open the drawer and rolled his eyes at the condom sitting atop the bible found in every hotel room.

"That's nice," Micky mumbled picking up the condom and inspecting it.

"Is that what I think it is?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," Micky said rubbing his hand over the wrapper. He felt a small distortion on the wrapper so he walked over to the bathroom and filled up the sink with a little bit of water.

"I don't see what's so bad about that," Peter said. "At least she was using protection."

"Yes, but why would she need to have these if she's trying to better herself," Micky said. "Remember, she used to be a stripper and a high-end prostitute. If she's going to therapy and reforming herself, she shouldn't be having sex. Period. And…" Micky said putting the condom in the water. He saw small bubbles escape from the wrapper and rise to the surface as the wrapper expanded. "Why would she be poking holes in them?"

"Holes?" Peter asked.

"It's an old trick girls use when they want to trick a guy into getting her pregnant," Micky said. "You take a small needle and poke a hole in the wrapper. The whole is imperceptible, but basically destroys the condom. My aunt did it with her lover. Only he got pissed and killed her."

"She's trying to get pregnant?" Peter asked. "With Mike's baby?"

"I don't know," Micky answered. "This wasn't used. She could be saving it for someone else. Though I doubt that."

"Why would she do that?" Peter asked.

"I don't know, Peter," Micky answered honestly. Micky pocketed the condom after drying it off and continued his search. He still didn't understand how she had convinced Mike to sleep with her. His eyes fell on the bottle of whisky and crossed over to it. He brought the bottle to his nose and smelled. It smelled normal, but then again, he expected it to.

"Anything?" Peter asked still standing by the door.

"No," Micky answered. "Not yet."

"What are you expecting to find exactly?" Peter asked. Micky didn't answer right away. He still didn't want to tell Peter he thought she had drugged Mike. Not without proof. He dug around a little longer, but didn't find anything. Until he pulled open the drawer in her dresser. He saw a few garments in it, but not much. He supposed she'd been here for a few days. No one was really sure how she had even tracked Mike down, but Micky guessed it would at least have taken her a few days to find them. Inside the drawer mixed with provocative lingerie was a tiny little glass bottle with an eye dropper cap. He pulled it out, only to find it empty save for a tiny amount at the bottom. "What is that?"

"I don't know for sure," Micky answered. Micky looked at Peter and felt that he finally had to voice his theory. The little bottle in his hand wasn't exactly a smoking gun, but it was as close to evidence as he'd find. There wasn't anything else that could possibly have been in this bottle. "I think we should give this to Rose to test it."

"For what?" Peter asked.

"For drugs," Micky answered.

"You think she drugged him?" Peter asked.

"There really is no other explanation," Micky sighed. "I was hoping to find more than just an empty bottle of whiskey, but there is only one bottle here and this. And it's practically empty. So she used it on someone."

"You don't know she didn't use it on herself," Peter said. "Maybe it was medicine or something."

"Peter, I love how trusting you are, but nothing adds up to that," Micky said. "Everything adds up to her drugging Mike. I just don't know why."

"So what do we do?" Peter asked.

"We give this to Rose," Micky answered. "See what she can come up with."

"You said that, but what about Mike?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," Micky answered. "I'm not even sure he'll believe us if we tell him. I doubt he will though. So maybe we should just keep this quiet from him for now. At least until Rose gets back to us with whatever this is. Let's go before Heather comes back."

Davy checked on Sarah once Peter and Micky left to make sure that she was still sleeping. She had fallen asleep not long after they had first gotten home 5 hours ago. He walked in and pulled the sheets up further to keep her warm and once he was satisfied she was still sleeping soundly, he left. He paced the living room for a while, deep in thought. He was worried about Mike and wondered what Micky expected to find in Heather's hotel room. He got the distinct impression that Micky was deliberately trying to hide something from him to protect him, but he also thought he knew what it was.

The only thing other than alcohol that could persuade someone to do something they didn't want to do was drugs. He didn't really know much of anything about them at all, but guessed Micky did from the look on his face. And if Mike wasn't lying, which Davy highly doubted because Mike would never lie to them, and he wasn't drunk, that really only left being drugged. He really hoped Micky was wrong and that Mike had drank more than he thought he had. But something nagging at the back of his mind told him Micky was right.

He was yanked from his thoughts when he heard a crashing and thumping noise coming from the bathroom. His heart stopped and he rushed over to the bathroom and ripped the door open. Inside, Mike was lying completely rigid on the floor with his legs over the edge of the tub. A second after Davy entered, Mike started convulsing on the floor. Davy knelt down next to Mike and grabbed a towel to shove under his head to keep his head from hitting the floor. Other than that, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

"Mike?" Davy pled desperate to try anything. "What's going on?" But of course Mike didn't answer. He really didn't know what else to do other than call 9-1-1, so he dashed out to grab the phone, but in his panic tripped over the rug in the middle of the floor and crashed to the floor. He pushed himself up quickly and grabbed the phone quickly punched the numbers into it.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" a female voiced asked on the other end.

"I think my friend is having a seizure," Davy all but yelled. "Please help. I'm at 1334 north Beechwood."

"Ok, remain calm, sir," the woman said. "We're sending someone. Place a towel under his head."

"I did," Davy answered.

"Good," she said. "Is he stable?"

"He's in the bathroom," Davy answered. "Please just hurry."

"We have someone on the way," she said. "Make sure he stays stable. Once the seizure stops and you notice his body relaxing, turn him on his side and make sure there's nothing else around that can hurt him. Make sure he keeps breathing."

"Davy?" Sarah asked from the doorway. Davy froze. He'd forgotten all about Sarah and her fear of hospitals. And he couldn't just leave her here alone. He had no idea what he was going to do. "What's going on?"

"Mike," Davy answered. "He's having a seizure. I'm calling an ambulance."

"Oh God," Sarah said and ran toward the bathroom.

"Please hurry," Davy said again into the phone and hung up. He dashed off toward the bathroom to find Mike had now gone completely limp and Sarah was kneeling next to him. She had taken the towel out from under his head and draped it across him to keep him covered and had already turned him on his side. "Sarah, I had to call an ambulance. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"It's ok," Sarah answered. "Where are Micky and Peter?"

"Uh…" Davy said not sure how much he should share with her. "I guess when Mike came home, Micky found out that Mike sorta slept with Heather."

"Sorta?" Sarah asked.

"He said he was drunk," Davy clarified. "They got into a fight over it and Mike went to take a shower but Micky told me and Peter he thought maybe something else had happened. That his sister wouldn't have gotten drunk very easily."

"He thinks she drugged him," Sarah finished.

"Yeah," Davy said. "He said he had to find out. I told Peter to go with him to make sure he stayed out of trouble. But that also means that they aren't here. I don't want to leave you alone, but I have to go with Mike…"

"It's fine," Sarah said. "Go with him. I'll be fine here. Besides, someone has to be here when Micky and Peter get back to tell them what happened."

"Are you sure?" Davy asked.

"Positive," Sarah answered as they both heard the sirens of the coming ambulance. "He needs you with him and I should tell Micky what happened. Don't tell the doctors you think he might have been drugged. We shouldn't get the police involved until we know for sure."

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Davy asked. "What if they give him something that interacts with the drugs she gave him?"

"It wouldn't matter because we have no idea what she even gave him," Sarah answered.

"You think he was drugged though?" Davy asked.

"I know Heather," Sarah answered simply. "I don't trust her. Go meet the medics." Davy nodded and rushed over to the front door to let them in. Davy stood back reluctantly as he watched them work. They made Sarah get up and leave the room, as well as they began to check on Mike. He barely heard one of the medics talking to Davy as he stared at Mike. They checked his pulse and shined a light into his eyes while trying to rouse Mike.

"Sir, what's your name?" the medic talking to Davy asked.

"Davy Jones," Davy answered.

"Ok, what's your friend's name?" the medic asked.

"Mike Nesmith," Davy answered.

"How old is he?"

"He just turned 23."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. He went to take a shower. I heard a crash and a thump and found him like that. He was shaking."

"Has he ever had a seizure before?"

"No. What's happening?"

"I don't know yet, Mr. Jones. We're going to do our best. Do you have any idea what might have caused this? Did he take anything?"

"Not that I know of. He had a little whiskey earlier today. He doesn't do drugs though."

"Ok, what happened to you?"

"Huh?"

"Your forehead is bleeding." Davy touched his forehead not having realized that he'd even been injured.

"I tripped trying to get to the phone," Davy said not really caring much about himself.

"That's fine, Mr. Jones. It doesn't look that bad. Just probably need a bandage to cover it. Sit down."

"Is Mike going to be ok?" Davy asked sinking into the chair.

"You did the right thing, Mr. Jones," the medic answered kneeling down. He pulled some strange looking scissors off a loop on his pants and pulled some gauze and tape out of a pocket.

"Davy, relax," Sarah said as the medic cleaned Davy's forehead and put the gauze on the cut. "They're doing the best they can."

"We need to get him to the hospital," another medic said coming out of the bathroom with Mike on the stretcher. He then carried Mike out the front door with a third medic and Davy jumped up to follow.

"We can't allow both of you back there," the first medic said.

"That's ok, I'm staying here," Sarah said. "I'm going to wait until the rest of our roommates get home. Tell them what's going on."

"Alright," the medic nodded and led Davy out to the waiting ambulance. Davy waved at Sarah before they closed the doors and the ambulance started moving. The medic that had been talking to Davy started an IV in Mike's arm while another one picked up a radio and started talking into it.

"We're en route with a 23 year old caucasian male post grand mal," he said. "Still unresponsive. Cause unknown. BP 100 over 60. Pulse 68. O2 90 and respiratory rate 14. ETA 3 minutes." Davy waited silently as they continued hooking things to Mike. A few minutes later, Mike's body arched and tensed again and Davy's stomach flipped.

"He's going into another seizure," the first medic said. There wasn't much they could do as Mike suddenly started shaking again. Davy tried to grab Mike in the hopes that he could somehow stop him from shaking, but the medic held him back. Davy broke down and started sobbing. He didn't know what was wrong with his friend and there was nothing he could do to help him. Once they arrived at the hospital, Davy tried to follow them all the way to Mike's hospital room, but the medic who had placed the gauze on his head held him back.

"I need to be with him," Davy argued.

"You need to wait here," the medic said. "You need to let the doctors do their job and help him."

"What's happening to him?" Davy demanded.

"We don't know, but you need to wait here and stay out of their way. You can't crowd them. You have to let them do their job. They'll talk to you when they know anything." Davy reluctantly stood there and started pacing. He had no idea what was going on with Mike and hated it. A few seconds later, he heard a woman's voice over an intercom saying "Code Blue". Davy had no idea what that meant, but through the window in the door, he saw dozens of people rushing down the hallway he'd just seen Mike pushed down. He walked over to a nurse behind a counter and begged for her attention as she started to run toward the doors too.

"What is that?" Davy asked. "What's a code blue? My friend's back there. What's going on?"

"Sir, please remain calm," she said firmly. "Have a seat and we'll tell you when we know more."

"That's my best friend!" Davy exclaimed blowing up. "What is going on!?"

"There's no guarantee that it's in relation to your friend," she said. "But a code blue means someone's stopped breathing and no longer has a pulse." With that she turned and ran down the hallway to join the commotion of other doctors leaving Davy to stand there frozen in fear. Davy felt sick to his stomach. Mike wasn't breathing and his heart had stopped. There was no way Davy would be able to make it through if they couldn't revive him. His thoughts quickly turned to Micky. He could only imagine how guilty Micky would feel if Mike died. If his last words to Mike had been the harsh yelling and biting words, Micky would hate himself.