You are Not Alone (The Monkees: Mike Nesmith & Davy Jones (friends/TV personas); bad things in 3s)
Title: You are Not Alone
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Claim: The Monkees: Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones (platonic/friendship; fictional personas from the show only!)
Table: DIY
Prompt: Bad things come in threes
Rating: PG
Summary: You really can't blame Mike. He's just not used to having someone worry about him...
Cross-posted to FFN and monkeesfic.
Notes: this was put together from two requests; the first part is from my own muse, and the second part is from “Monkees in a Ghost Town,” specifically the unspecified amount of time between when Davy and Mike get captured and Micky and Peter make their valiant effort to free them.
********************************
Malibu, CA; a few years prior:
It was not to be said that prior to meeting Micky and Peter and forming the Monkees, Mike and Davy, as Lone Star and Union Jack, didn’t have their share of misadventures. Some were more dangerous than others; though Mike did his best to keep his younger roommate out of harm’s way, there were things that not even he could count on.
The duo had been performing in a club on one night that turned out to be just such an occasion. It was a gig just like the ones they had done before many times. The crowd was enjoying their music, and it was looking as though that the night was going to be a very successful one indeed.
And then the earthquake hit.
It was the largest one that Mike and Davy had ever experienced; they’d felt minor tremors on a semiregular basis. But while those had just merely made them pause what they were doing in surprise, this was the one that threw them off of their feet-the one that the seismologists had issued vague warnings about how it was going to happen sometime, but they didn’t know when.
Davy, rendered unsteady after the first set of seismic waves hit, had been thrown clear off of the stage when the second set of waves hit. Mike had fallen backwards on the stage, yelling for Davy as the boy disappeared from view due to the panicked, screaming crowd running every which way.
The quake hadn’t even stopped yet, but, already, Mike placed his twelve-string aside and leaped from the stage to try to reach his companion. Through a gap in the crowd’s legs, he saw the English boy curled up on the floor with his hands over his head-his small stature, for once, being a blessing as frantic feet missed him left and right.
As Mike made his way to him, he happened to glance up. The hanging lights on the ceiling were swinging wildly, and one of them was tilting over, due to two of the screws coming loose in the shaking.
It wasn’t the loose screws that worried Mike; the remaining screws were holding the light fixture in just fine. It was the heavy, frosted glass globes that covered each of the bulbs that worried him; the two on the tilted end of the fixture were slipping loose from their holders-and the arc of the swinging light fixture took them directly above Davy.
Instinct took over at that point; Mike made his way over to Davy’s side, only to shove the boy out of the way.
At that moment, the shaking stopped. Well, for Mike, everything stopped; he heard Davy yelp as he was shoved, and then he heard the sound of glass cracking-right on top of his own head. And everything went dark after that.
Davy had not been amused upon being shoved aside. Initially, he thought one of the fleeing patrons had tripped over him, but when the quake stopped and he dared to lift his head and look around, he froze in horror to see Mike lying unconscious on the spot where Davy had been only moments before. The Texan’s outstretched hands told Davy all that he needed to know.
“Mike!” he cried, not even paying any heed to the broken glass as he drew his arm around the Texan’s shoulders to try to sit him up.
But Mike was out cold. And despite the fact that they were surrounded by a crowd of people, Davy had never felt more lost and alone.
********************************
It was an agonizing amount of time that had passed since the earthquake-even though Davy wasn’t sure if how long it actually had been. It had felt like an eternity, at any rate. Mike had been taken to a nearby medical center where other casualties of the quake were being treated, and Davy hadn’t left his side, blinking back his tears of worry. The doctors, pressed with patients that had more serious injuries, hadn’t had the chance to properly examine Mike. A nurse had checked up on him once or twice, but hadn’t been able to make a definite conclusion as to whether or not he was suffering from a concussion.
Davy had still been waiting for someone to examine Mike when the Texan finally stirred. He tried to get up, but the English boy quickly grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him.
“You need to rest some more,” he said, softly.
“I think my vertigo agrees with your statement,” Mike said, trying to smile but wincing in pain instead. Davy gently helped him back onto the pillow. “Thanks, Tiny. How’d I get here?”
“They brought you while you were still unconscious,” Davy said.
“…When did that happen?”
Davy stared at him.
“When you got hit on the head during the earthquake,” he said.
“There was an earthquake?” Mike asked. His eyes widened, and he looked to Davy in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Davy’s jaw dropped further.
“One of us is in a hospital bed after being unconscious, and it isn’t me,” the English boy said.
“But you are okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay,” Davy said, running a hand through his hair in utter befuddlement.
“Good,” Mike said, and he was able to relax again.
Davy just shook his head, deciding to let his friend rest as the guilt nibbled away at him-for there was no silencing the little voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that this was his fault, for there had been no other reason for Mike to get hurt other than to save him.
The English boy gently brushed the Texan’s hair out of his eyes, discovering that he had already fallen asleep.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
A doctor came in at last at this point, concluding that Mike did not have a concussion-just a nasty bump. When Mike woke up again, the doctor gave him the green light to go home, and that is exactly what the duo did. Mike quickly moved on from the incident, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but Davy did not soon forget. He knew that he never would.
********************************
Somewhere in a ghost town; a few years later:
As the cell door closed, imprisoning them, Mike found it difficult to look at his younger English companion. Not that he could blame him, of course; their captors were being absolutely blasé as they discussed about getting rid of them, and then deciding to leave it to their boss. It seemed that there just wasn’t any way to get out of this one, and Mike could only hope that Micky and Peter were safe-wherever they were.
Mike tried not to look at their captors, instead looking back to Davy, who was sitting down beside him. He was trembling slightly.
Slowly, the Texan placed his hand on the young Englishman’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to worry, okay? There has to be a way out that we’re just not thinking about. And even if there isn’t, well… I’m going to see to it that you get out of this. I promise.”
Dave now turned to him with a look of utter disbelief, which took Mike by surprise.
“Really,” Mike promised. “I mean it, Davy. I’m not going to sit around and let anything happen to you.”
But the upset look on Davy’s face did not go away; he turned away now, staring at the floor.
“Davy-?”
“Leave off,” he ordered.
Mike sighed; Davy only slipped back into the King’s English when he was really upset or trying to make a point-and Mike was sure that there was no point he was trying to make right now.
“You have to believe me-”
“Oh, I believe you, Mike,” Davy said. “I don’t doubt your words for a second. You’ll to whatever it takes to get me out of here.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “But who’s going to save you, Mike?”
Mike now stared at Davy for a moment. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by his reply, and yet…
“Davy-”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Davy said, cutting him off to hastily change the subject. “Would my life have been any easier if I had chosen a different flight to get to America? Or if I had chosen a different bus? I almost took an earlier bus, you know; the thing left without me and I got stuck on the next one…”
“You’re saying that you’re wondering how things would’ve been like if you hadn’t met me,” Mike translated. “Well, you probably would be better off; you’d be out there somewhere instead of here, wild and free like you always want, never having to worry about anyone or anything… including me.”
“I’d hate it.”
“Say what?” the Texan asked, surprised.
Davy looked back at him.
“Even if you think you’re the one who’s supposed to make all the sacrifices as the leader… Even if you think that you have to do all the worrying around here, you can’t stop the rest of us from worrying about you.” He hesitated. “That includes me.”
Mike knew, of course. It just… surprised him at times. Being the responsible one-the one who had looked after Davy when it was just the two of them and then after all of his bandmates once they had formed the Monkees-he was so used to putting himself out ahead, sticking his neck out. Seeing his companions insist on returning it just… didn’t fit. It was the way things were supposed to be, wasn’t it? If a sacrifice was to be made, Mike was to be the one to make it….
But here was Davy, insisting to the contrary. Well, it made sense in Mike’s head, he decided. Yet he couldn’t stop his heart from thinking that the job of worrying should be his and his alone.
Mike now placed his hand on Davy’s shoulder again.
“Don’t think that I don’t appreciate your concern, because I do,” Mike promised. “I guess I gotta remind myself sometimes that y’all worry for me, too.”
“You have no idea…” the English boy said. “You… you don’t even remember the times…” He trailed off.
“What?”
Davy looked away.
“It’s nothing,” he insisted.
“Nothing, my foot; what’s going on?” Mike asked.
“Well, you couldn’t possibly know; there’s really no need for you to worry about it,” Davy said. “We need to get out of here, anyway… if we can.”
“Since we can’t for the moment, I want to get some idea about this thing I have no idea about,” the Texan insisted.
Davy took a moment to glance at their two captors; they were both preoccupied, paying them very little attention, if any.
“They’re not listening to us; go on,” Mike prompted him.
“It’s a bit silly, really,” Davy said, trying to brush it off. “Superstitious nonsense. You wouldn’t want to…” He trailed off as the Texan gave him a long, exasperated stare. “…Of course you would.”
He sighed again.
“You know the saying-bad things happen in threes?”
Mike blinked, taking a bemused look at their surroundings.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure this hasn’t happened before even once-forget twice,” he pointed out, gesturing around the cell.
“That’s not what I meant,” Davy said. “What I meant was… Well, do you remember that really bad earthquake we had a few years ago? It was back when we were just a two-man act; we were playing at some dance club when it hit.”
“To be honest, that whole day’s kinda one big blur,” Mike admitted. “I don’t remember much of it.”
“You wouldn’t,” the English boy said. “One of the glass globes on one of the hanging lights came loose and hit you on the head; you were knocked out cold.”
“…Oh, yeah. Eh, go figure; I would choose the wrong spot to stand. Just my luck, I suppose.”
Davy gave Mike a long look-the same look he had given him that day when he had woken up at the hospital.
“…You only got hit because you pushed me out of the way. I thought you might not have remembered; you were out for a long time, and you could hardly remember anything about the earthquake.”
Mike pondered over this reveal for a moment.
“Well, I guess it’s nice to finally know what happened,” he said. “But I still don’t see what that has to do with our little dilemma here. I mean… there aren’t any ceiling lights here, so that’s hardly something to worry about…”
“And then there was the second time,” Davy went on. “Just a few weeks ago, when we were dealing with those two spies… Madame Olinsky got you.”
“Now that I remember,” Mike admitted. “My shoulder is still sore from that knockout karate chop.”
“Exactly,” Davy sighed. “And the only reason we got involved with the spies in the first place is because I insisted on getting those maracas.”
Mike was now beginning to put the pieces together.
“And now you’re worried that this time-the third time-something really bad is going to happen because I was trying to help you?”
Davy gave a nod, his gaze darting towards their captors’ weapons.
“Look, Davy,” Mike said. “I’m the one responsible for you and for Mick and Pete, too. I’ve always felt that I gotta stick my neck out for you guys in situations like this.”
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to be, Mike. You’re not supposed to be the one shouldering everything. You… you need let us help you.” Davy hesitated. “Let me help you.”
Mike gave him a wan smile, but glanced at their captors through the bars.
“You’ll get your chance, Tiny,” he promised, after looking back at his companion. “Maybe not today, but some other time. And I’m sure I’ll appreciate it.”
Davy looked back at him, an expression of hope lighting up his face.
“You mean to say-”
“We’re both going to find a way out of this,” Mike finished.
That was all that the English boy needed to hear. And with a little help from Micky, Peter, and some good, old-fashioned dumb luck, they succeeded.
Author: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Claim: The Monkees: Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones (platonic/friendship; fictional personas from the show only!)
Table: DIY
Prompt: Bad things come in threes
Rating: PG
Summary: You really can't blame Mike. He's just not used to having someone worry about him...
Cross-posted to FFN and monkeesfic.
Notes: this was put together from two requests; the first part is from my own muse, and the second part is from “Monkees in a Ghost Town,” specifically the unspecified amount of time between when Davy and Mike get captured and Micky and Peter make their valiant effort to free them.
********************************
Malibu, CA; a few years prior:
It was not to be said that prior to meeting Micky and Peter and forming the Monkees, Mike and Davy, as Lone Star and Union Jack, didn’t have their share of misadventures. Some were more dangerous than others; though Mike did his best to keep his younger roommate out of harm’s way, there were things that not even he could count on.
The duo had been performing in a club on one night that turned out to be just such an occasion. It was a gig just like the ones they had done before many times. The crowd was enjoying their music, and it was looking as though that the night was going to be a very successful one indeed.
And then the earthquake hit.
It was the largest one that Mike and Davy had ever experienced; they’d felt minor tremors on a semiregular basis. But while those had just merely made them pause what they were doing in surprise, this was the one that threw them off of their feet-the one that the seismologists had issued vague warnings about how it was going to happen sometime, but they didn’t know when.
Davy, rendered unsteady after the first set of seismic waves hit, had been thrown clear off of the stage when the second set of waves hit. Mike had fallen backwards on the stage, yelling for Davy as the boy disappeared from view due to the panicked, screaming crowd running every which way.
The quake hadn’t even stopped yet, but, already, Mike placed his twelve-string aside and leaped from the stage to try to reach his companion. Through a gap in the crowd’s legs, he saw the English boy curled up on the floor with his hands over his head-his small stature, for once, being a blessing as frantic feet missed him left and right.
As Mike made his way to him, he happened to glance up. The hanging lights on the ceiling were swinging wildly, and one of them was tilting over, due to two of the screws coming loose in the shaking.
It wasn’t the loose screws that worried Mike; the remaining screws were holding the light fixture in just fine. It was the heavy, frosted glass globes that covered each of the bulbs that worried him; the two on the tilted end of the fixture were slipping loose from their holders-and the arc of the swinging light fixture took them directly above Davy.
Instinct took over at that point; Mike made his way over to Davy’s side, only to shove the boy out of the way.
At that moment, the shaking stopped. Well, for Mike, everything stopped; he heard Davy yelp as he was shoved, and then he heard the sound of glass cracking-right on top of his own head. And everything went dark after that.
Davy had not been amused upon being shoved aside. Initially, he thought one of the fleeing patrons had tripped over him, but when the quake stopped and he dared to lift his head and look around, he froze in horror to see Mike lying unconscious on the spot where Davy had been only moments before. The Texan’s outstretched hands told Davy all that he needed to know.
“Mike!” he cried, not even paying any heed to the broken glass as he drew his arm around the Texan’s shoulders to try to sit him up.
But Mike was out cold. And despite the fact that they were surrounded by a crowd of people, Davy had never felt more lost and alone.
********************************
It was an agonizing amount of time that had passed since the earthquake-even though Davy wasn’t sure if how long it actually had been. It had felt like an eternity, at any rate. Mike had been taken to a nearby medical center where other casualties of the quake were being treated, and Davy hadn’t left his side, blinking back his tears of worry. The doctors, pressed with patients that had more serious injuries, hadn’t had the chance to properly examine Mike. A nurse had checked up on him once or twice, but hadn’t been able to make a definite conclusion as to whether or not he was suffering from a concussion.
Davy had still been waiting for someone to examine Mike when the Texan finally stirred. He tried to get up, but the English boy quickly grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him.
“You need to rest some more,” he said, softly.
“I think my vertigo agrees with your statement,” Mike said, trying to smile but wincing in pain instead. Davy gently helped him back onto the pillow. “Thanks, Tiny. How’d I get here?”
“They brought you while you were still unconscious,” Davy said.
“…When did that happen?”
Davy stared at him.
“When you got hit on the head during the earthquake,” he said.
“There was an earthquake?” Mike asked. His eyes widened, and he looked to Davy in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Davy’s jaw dropped further.
“One of us is in a hospital bed after being unconscious, and it isn’t me,” the English boy said.
“But you are okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay,” Davy said, running a hand through his hair in utter befuddlement.
“Good,” Mike said, and he was able to relax again.
Davy just shook his head, deciding to let his friend rest as the guilt nibbled away at him-for there was no silencing the little voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that this was his fault, for there had been no other reason for Mike to get hurt other than to save him.
The English boy gently brushed the Texan’s hair out of his eyes, discovering that he had already fallen asleep.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
A doctor came in at last at this point, concluding that Mike did not have a concussion-just a nasty bump. When Mike woke up again, the doctor gave him the green light to go home, and that is exactly what the duo did. Mike quickly moved on from the incident, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but Davy did not soon forget. He knew that he never would.
********************************
Somewhere in a ghost town; a few years later:
As the cell door closed, imprisoning them, Mike found it difficult to look at his younger English companion. Not that he could blame him, of course; their captors were being absolutely blasé as they discussed about getting rid of them, and then deciding to leave it to their boss. It seemed that there just wasn’t any way to get out of this one, and Mike could only hope that Micky and Peter were safe-wherever they were.
Mike tried not to look at their captors, instead looking back to Davy, who was sitting down beside him. He was trembling slightly.
Slowly, the Texan placed his hand on the young Englishman’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to worry, okay? There has to be a way out that we’re just not thinking about. And even if there isn’t, well… I’m going to see to it that you get out of this. I promise.”
Dave now turned to him with a look of utter disbelief, which took Mike by surprise.
“Really,” Mike promised. “I mean it, Davy. I’m not going to sit around and let anything happen to you.”
But the upset look on Davy’s face did not go away; he turned away now, staring at the floor.
“Davy-?”
“Leave off,” he ordered.
Mike sighed; Davy only slipped back into the King’s English when he was really upset or trying to make a point-and Mike was sure that there was no point he was trying to make right now.
“You have to believe me-”
“Oh, I believe you, Mike,” Davy said. “I don’t doubt your words for a second. You’ll to whatever it takes to get me out of here.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “But who’s going to save you, Mike?”
Mike now stared at Davy for a moment. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by his reply, and yet…
“Davy-”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Davy said, cutting him off to hastily change the subject. “Would my life have been any easier if I had chosen a different flight to get to America? Or if I had chosen a different bus? I almost took an earlier bus, you know; the thing left without me and I got stuck on the next one…”
“You’re saying that you’re wondering how things would’ve been like if you hadn’t met me,” Mike translated. “Well, you probably would be better off; you’d be out there somewhere instead of here, wild and free like you always want, never having to worry about anyone or anything… including me.”
“I’d hate it.”
“Say what?” the Texan asked, surprised.
Davy looked back at him.
“Even if you think you’re the one who’s supposed to make all the sacrifices as the leader… Even if you think that you have to do all the worrying around here, you can’t stop the rest of us from worrying about you.” He hesitated. “That includes me.”
Mike knew, of course. It just… surprised him at times. Being the responsible one-the one who had looked after Davy when it was just the two of them and then after all of his bandmates once they had formed the Monkees-he was so used to putting himself out ahead, sticking his neck out. Seeing his companions insist on returning it just… didn’t fit. It was the way things were supposed to be, wasn’t it? If a sacrifice was to be made, Mike was to be the one to make it….
But here was Davy, insisting to the contrary. Well, it made sense in Mike’s head, he decided. Yet he couldn’t stop his heart from thinking that the job of worrying should be his and his alone.
Mike now placed his hand on Davy’s shoulder again.
“Don’t think that I don’t appreciate your concern, because I do,” Mike promised. “I guess I gotta remind myself sometimes that y’all worry for me, too.”
“You have no idea…” the English boy said. “You… you don’t even remember the times…” He trailed off.
“What?”
Davy looked away.
“It’s nothing,” he insisted.
“Nothing, my foot; what’s going on?” Mike asked.
“Well, you couldn’t possibly know; there’s really no need for you to worry about it,” Davy said. “We need to get out of here, anyway… if we can.”
“Since we can’t for the moment, I want to get some idea about this thing I have no idea about,” the Texan insisted.
Davy took a moment to glance at their two captors; they were both preoccupied, paying them very little attention, if any.
“They’re not listening to us; go on,” Mike prompted him.
“It’s a bit silly, really,” Davy said, trying to brush it off. “Superstitious nonsense. You wouldn’t want to…” He trailed off as the Texan gave him a long, exasperated stare. “…Of course you would.”
He sighed again.
“You know the saying-bad things happen in threes?”
Mike blinked, taking a bemused look at their surroundings.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure this hasn’t happened before even once-forget twice,” he pointed out, gesturing around the cell.
“That’s not what I meant,” Davy said. “What I meant was… Well, do you remember that really bad earthquake we had a few years ago? It was back when we were just a two-man act; we were playing at some dance club when it hit.”
“To be honest, that whole day’s kinda one big blur,” Mike admitted. “I don’t remember much of it.”
“You wouldn’t,” the English boy said. “One of the glass globes on one of the hanging lights came loose and hit you on the head; you were knocked out cold.”
“…Oh, yeah. Eh, go figure; I would choose the wrong spot to stand. Just my luck, I suppose.”
Davy gave Mike a long look-the same look he had given him that day when he had woken up at the hospital.
“…You only got hit because you pushed me out of the way. I thought you might not have remembered; you were out for a long time, and you could hardly remember anything about the earthquake.”
Mike pondered over this reveal for a moment.
“Well, I guess it’s nice to finally know what happened,” he said. “But I still don’t see what that has to do with our little dilemma here. I mean… there aren’t any ceiling lights here, so that’s hardly something to worry about…”
“And then there was the second time,” Davy went on. “Just a few weeks ago, when we were dealing with those two spies… Madame Olinsky got you.”
“Now that I remember,” Mike admitted. “My shoulder is still sore from that knockout karate chop.”
“Exactly,” Davy sighed. “And the only reason we got involved with the spies in the first place is because I insisted on getting those maracas.”
Mike was now beginning to put the pieces together.
“And now you’re worried that this time-the third time-something really bad is going to happen because I was trying to help you?”
Davy gave a nod, his gaze darting towards their captors’ weapons.
“Look, Davy,” Mike said. “I’m the one responsible for you and for Mick and Pete, too. I’ve always felt that I gotta stick my neck out for you guys in situations like this.”
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to be, Mike. You’re not supposed to be the one shouldering everything. You… you need let us help you.” Davy hesitated. “Let me help you.”
Mike gave him a wan smile, but glanced at their captors through the bars.
“You’ll get your chance, Tiny,” he promised, after looking back at his companion. “Maybe not today, but some other time. And I’m sure I’ll appreciate it.”
Davy looked back at him, an expression of hope lighting up his face.
“You mean to say-”
“We’re both going to find a way out of this,” Mike finished.
That was all that the English boy needed to hear. And with a little help from Micky, Peter, and some good, old-fashioned dumb luck, they succeeded.