Feedback for the author...
DISCLAIMER: This site is in no way affiliated with the Monkees or personal relations thereof. All fan fiction and fan art is intended for entertainment purposes only and no defamation of character is intended whatsoever. To break it down one more time: It's all just for fun, folks.
"I’ve Just Begun to Care - Part 6"
Title: I’ve Just Begun To Care
Genre/Pairing: Mike/OFC, Peter/OFC, Micky/OFC
Warnings: Mild language, violence, angst, sexual situations, character harm.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Monkees, just my OCs.
Summary: Our boys and their friends face a tough future…Will they make it through,
or will the band be torn from the inside out.
Author's Note: Sequel to I Met A Girl Who Sang The Blues. Contains the same OCs as that fic, and continues right where it ended, between the last chapter and the epilogue.
You And I And Promises Not Broken
Mike came home three days later, and was up and about four days after that. If he, Micky, or Davy noticed Peter acting strangely none of them said anything. Maybe they thought he was acting weird because of the shooting, or maybe it was something else, but none of them could have suspected the real reason.
He had seen Sophie kissing Mike that night at the hospital. He hadn’t heard anything said or seen anything else that happened in that room, but Peter had seen that much. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to say anything about it, still in too much shock.
He hadn’t even seen Sophie since Mike had come home; she had made several excuses for not coming over. Peter knew he wasn’t the brightest of all people, but he could tell when someone was trying to avoid something. What he couldn’t tell was who she was avoiding; himself or Mike.
This all changed a week after Mike came home. The band was set up on the bandstand as usual, running through their numbers. When they were finished, Davy suggested that they practice the new song that Mike had written, ‘I’ve Just Begun To Care’. Mike and Micky looked at each other uneasily for a moment, but Mike agreed to practice it.
Peter wouldn’t have known that the song had been written about Sophie unless he hadn’t seen her and Mike together. As he listened to the words, he began to realize who the song was for. And it made him angry.
Peter didn’t get angry, it just wasn’t his nature. He got upset, but never angry. His friends could say that they had never heard him raise his voice and he had only ever got in two fist fights in his life; once with the school bully who had been terrorizing Peter’s little cousin, and again two years previously with a man named James McCallister.
So if you told someone about the time Peter Tork launched himself at his best friend and began punching away, they would either call you insane or ask you if you know more than one Peter Tork.
Most unfortunately, that was what happened. Peter didn’t actually realize what he was doing until he felt the pain in his hands and Micky’s arms trying to pull him back. He never could recall putting down the bass or actually moving at Mike, but he could recall vividly the sight of Mike on the floor after Micky had pulled him away, lying there shaking and bleeding from where the stitches had been pulled out.
He could just barely hear Micky asking him what the hell was going on, but he ignored him and ran towards the door, feeling hot tears rolling down his face already. Where he thought he was going to go was beyond him, but he knew he needed away from the pad.
Sophie sat in her living room, on the couch upside down so she was using the coffee table as a headrest and her feet were against the wall behind the couch. Even though she was in the house alone, she had headphones on so she could listen to the record player. She was playing her guitar along with the record, trying to exorcise the demons brewing within.
Mike and Peter wrestled for attention in her mind; Peter who was acting so strangely since the night at the hospital, Mike who couldn’t even look at her anymore. I don’t want to fade away, in your heart I want to stay; Clapton was her best friend today. Yesterday it had been Robert Johnson and Buddy Guy the day before.
Sophie was playing along when quite suddenly the record stopped. Her eyes opened and Peter was standing over her. He looked unbearably sad, tears welling in his eyes. Sophie pulled off the headphones and sat up.
“Peter, what…..whats wrong?”
He kept his eyes down and shook his head. “And what happened to your hands?”
Peter looked at his hands; the knuckles on both hands were raw and bleeding. He had barely noticed them hurting. Sophie stood up and led him into the kitchen. “Sit down, Pete. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you can tell me what happened.”
Sophie left the kitchen and Peter stayed where she left him, still in too much shock over what he had done to protest anything. He didn’t even notice when Sophie came back until he felt a sting on his left hand; she was washing his hand with a hot washcloth. He jumped.
“I’m sorry, Pete, I’m trying to be easy.” He nodded distractedly.
Peter kept his eyes closed as Sophie worked on his hands. The hot water stung but it barely fazed him. What bothered him the most were her hands. He had always taken comfort from her hands, how remarkably similar they were to his own. The same guitar calluses that were on his hands were on hers. Her hands on Michael’s shoulders as she kissed him. How many times before had that happened, he couldn’t help but to wonder.
“Alright, honey I’m done.” Peter opened his eyes; she had wrapped his hands up.
“Now, tell me what happened.” She said this as gently as she could.
“I….” Peter flinched at how high his voice was. “I hit Michael.”
Sophie felt her jaw drop. “You did what?”
“I….we were practicing, you know, the band, and the next thing I knew I was….hitting him. Micky tried to pull me off but…..I just kept on. Micky got me up……Michael was bleeding, I think I ripped out his stitches…..”
Sophie felt cold. The only reason she could think of for Peter to do that was….. “Why did you hit him, Peter?” She prayed she was wrong.
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I saw you with him….at the hospital. And he was singing that song he wrote. I know now he wrote it for you…..I just….” Peter lost steam.
Sophie couldn’t say anything. She felt numb all over. Peter looked at her. “Do you…..do you love him?”
“No. I love you. You know that.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Sophie sighed. “There were a couple of times, before you and I got together….you remember that game night we had? That was one time, and one other. But it was before I thought you might like me, a long time before we started dating. And then, a few weeks ago Mike tells me he loves me, that he wants me to leave you for him….I told him I wouldn’t do it. Then at the hospital, he said he was jealous of you for a change, but that that was being stupid and how he was fine with us being together and he wouldn’t stand in the way. I thought maybe this whole thing would go away….The kiss you saw, that….he asked me….He wanted a kiss goodbye he said. He had just saved my life and yours, I couldn’t deny him that much….”
“I should have realized….He’s my best friend, I noticed something was wrong, but I didn’t put the two together…..He was in love with you…..”
“No, Peter, this can’t be your fault! It’s my fault or Mike’s but not yours.”
“How is it your fault?”
“I encouraged this…..I let him kiss me, even though I knew what could happen, and every time he kissed me, he would tell me how much he loved me, and I hated to hear that from him because I thought of you, so I’d push him away. And then he’d be back….and for once I wish someone would let me blame myself for the shit that’s my fault around here! God, if I had gone to Chicago when I had the chance, none of this would have fucking happened!” Sophie stood up during the middle of her speech and paced over the sink. She broke into tears at the end of her last sentence.
Peter let her cry for a moment before standing up and walking behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and he felt her relax a tiny bit. He leaned forward and whispered gently in her ear, “Language.” She laughed a little, but was still crying so it was more of a hiccup.
“Sophie, if you had left, I don’t know what I would’ve done. There wouldn’t be much of a reason to go on for me.” He felt her nod.
“I would’ve been miserable, too…..but at the same time, I’m miserable now.”
“Don’t be. It’s not you I’m mad at…..”
“You want me to be mad at you?”
“Then I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” he said softly and kissed her
“That tickles. And I don’t want Mike to have to take all the responsibility…..”
“He’ll want to, you’ll see.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Besides, it isn’t your fault you’re so…..” He paused to kiss her neck. “…..so easy to fall in love with…..”
Sophie laughed a little, the tears had stopped falling. “You’re saying I’m easy now?”
“I may be…..You want to show me how easy you are?” Peter pulled Sophie tighter to him and he kissed her neck more and her shoulder.
“Whatever happened to the sweet, innocent, I’m-afraid-to-do-it-‘cause-I-might-be-lousy Peter I fell in love with?”
Peter stopped. “Do you want him back?”
Sophie laughed again. “No, sir.”
“Good.” She turned around in his arms so he was facing him.
“You want to go upstairs, Pete?” She asked quietly.
Sophie laughed, actually feeling happy for the first time in over a week. “Come on, babe and I’ll show you….”
Micky swore as he drove, stuck in rush hour traffic on his way to the hospital. Micky and Davy had made the decision that they could simply put a whole bunch of towels in the backseat and drive Mike to the hospital themselves.
Mike was lying stretched out on the backseat, his face growing paler and paler. They had tried to tie towels around where the wound was, but that didn’t cut it. By the time Micky pulled up to the emergency room doors, Mike had turned a strange gray color.
An hour later, a doctor came out to talk to Micky and Davy. “Mr Nesmith is stabilized. We got the wound he sustained restitched and we got plenty of fluids in him. He should be alright to go home soon.”
As Micky and Davy sat in the waiting room for Mike to come out, they talked about what had happened.
“Man, I don’t know what that was with Peter. I’ve never seen him angry before.”
“I know. Maybe it has something to do with what’s been going on with Sophie….” Micky spoke, but he didn’t really realize what he had said.
“What do you mean?”
“Aw, man! I wasn’t supposed to tell…..Mike’s in love with Sophie. Maybe Pete found out.”
“Oh, it’s been a month or so now. I promised not to tell, so you can’t tell anyone either!”
“Yeah, I promise. That song makes sense now…..”
“And Peter snapped in the middle of the song! Of course he knows, but what gave it away, I wonder?”
“She kissed me, he must’ve seen….”
Micky and Davy both jumped at the familiar voice behind them. Mike was still a pale color, but he was standing and he looked strong.
He looked at his friends. “He had to have seen, that’s the only thing I can think of…..”
They drove home in silence, and spent most of the afternoon quietly as well. Everyone was waiting for Peter to get home, everyone wanted answers.
Myrtle came home near five o’ clock and made supper while she heard the afternoon’s events from the guys. Micky and Davy were washing the dishes when the front door opened and Peter came in.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared as he walked in. Peter looked cautious as he closed the door behind him. “What?”
“What! You have the nerve to come in here after what you did and ask what? You snapped! Went crazy! You sent me back to the hospital, you bastard, so you better have something else to say to me besides what!” Mike had been sitting on the couch but had stood up to yell.
“Are you alright?”
Mike snorted. “Yeah, if you care.”
“I do care, but I’m not sorry.” More than anything else, this shocked everyone who were used to Peter apologizing for closing doors too loudly.
“And I’m not going to apologize to you. You owe me an apology!” The words sounded strange coming from Peter.
Mike shook his head. “Hey, man, maybe we should talk outside…..” Mike moved away to the balcony doors but Peter crossed his arms and leaned against the front door frame.