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 8"
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.
I’m Left Stranded, Wonderin’ Why
One morning in early April, Peter and Davy woke up to find a note taped to the kitchen table.
Guys, I’m really sorry about this, but I’ve gone back home to Texas. I know it’s kinda short notice but I just can’t stick around anymore. The money and all the books are in the top dresser drawer in the closet. All my songs are in the drawer under that.
I’m sorry that I’ve put y’all in a fix, what with the gig tonight and all, but ask Sophie to fill in for awhile. She’s incredible.
Anyway, I am sorry I had to go, but maybe we’ll all meet up again sometime in the future. I’m sure we will.
The gig that night was the last ever.
Micky and Myrtle moved back to the original pad with their two year old, Lorraine Marie. They would stay there for many, many years until they decided to retire to Hawaii.
Peter and Sophie hung around California for a while longer before moving back to the East coast. Peter’s parents had moved to Wyoming, but didn’t want to sell the house, so Peter and Sophie moved in. They would eventually have three children; a son named Michael, another son named James, and a daughter Eleanor.
Davy moved around for a while, never really settling down. He finally made it to New York, where he struggled for a while to make it on Broadway. It took a few years, and a lot of hard work, but Davy eventually got a big role in Oliver! In time, he would marry a Russian dancer named Irene.
Hilda stayed at her job at the music producer’s office until the producer died a few years later. When the man died, he didn’t really have anyone he trusted to take over the business, so he left it all to his faithful assistant Hilda. She took Annie in as a partner, and they took the label to new heights. Hilda would end up marrying four times. First to another producer, who mysteriously turned up dead in the river after he was photographed in a tabloid out with another woman. Hilda was never charged. The other three marriages ended in divorce.
Mike never would marry. He lived in Texas for a while before moving to New Mexico, where he stayed for the rest of his days. He would make a small fortune from selling the majority of his songs to Hilda and Annie.
The friends wouldn’t be back together again until 1997.
Mike drove down the once familiar streets of Malibu, trying to remember the way to the hotel. He inwardly cursed Hilda for coming up with this idea of the bunch of them getting back together for a while. ‘Take a vacation,’ she said. ‘Get away from life for a while and hang out with the old crowd….’. He didn’t want to hang out with the old crowd. He had left for a reason, but only one person knew why.
He sighed as he finally parked the car. He had been driving for what seemed like forever and he constantly had to remind himself that he wasn’t quite as young as he had once been. He stretched as he stood up, making a bunch of popping noises he didn’t like. Mike looked at his watch; he was a little late. Some fool had merged when he shouldn’t have and there had been a very impressive traffic jam just outside the city limits.
Mike peeked around into the window before going in, trying to suss out where everyone was, and also to see if everyone was there already. He found them almost immediately.
Mike could’ve picked Sophie out of a crowded city square. Even though it had been many, many years since he had seen her, she hadn’t changed much. The long black hair was shorter now, and was beginning to be streaked with silver. Faint wrinkles had begun to form at the corners of her mouth and eyes.
As usual, she was laughing. Even though he was sure he was imagining the sound, Mike could hear her laughter, just as clear as the last night he had heard it. He drew away from the window and leaned against the building, sighing deeply. He could remember that last night like it was yesterday….
Mike sat on the couch, despondently flipping through a magazine. He wasn’t even sure what magazine it was. For a rare moment, Mike had the house to himself. Davy was out at some club with Peter and Micky; they had asked Mike to come along but he had voted against it.
Mike, lost in his own rambling thoughts, hadn’t been paying attention to the time; he usually made sure that he was up in his room when Sophie came home from working at the club. So when the front door opened, he was very startled to see Sophie come in, shaking rainwater from her hair.
“Hey, Mike. What’s up?”
Mike worked his mouth for a moment. “Uh, nothing. I was about to go to bed…..” He stood and was on his way to the staircase when she stopped him.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Rush off anytime we’re in a room alone together.” She walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I trust you, you know.”
Mike shook her hand off and began up the staircase, moving irritably. “Yeah, well, I don’t.”
“You don’t what,” she asked, following him.
He spun around at the top of the spiral. “I don’t trust myself with you. Not alone in a room and certainly not alone in a house!”
He turned back to go into his bedroom, but Sophie caught up and pinned him against the door, holding him by the elbows. She looked in his eyes for a long moment. “I miss you.”
That caught Mike by surprise. “You what?”
“We used to talk, remember? We used to be good friends. I don’t think I’ve really been able to talk to you since that day on the beach….the first day you told me you loved me….”
“That’s the problem. You’re married, and it would be completely inappropriate for me to be around you now. You know, alone.”
Sophie let go. “Then why have you hung around this whole time? Why haven’t you left yet?” Angry tears welled in her eyes, but Mike didn’t see them; he was staring at the floor.
“Blind hope, I suppose.” He looked up at Sophie and smiled a little sheepishly. She was expressionless for a second, before she shook her head sadly.
“I know. And I have been thinking of leaving….I was just waiting for a better time. Not so close to the busy holiday season. I wanted to give the others a chance to replace me…..”
“They won’t do it. If you leave, they’ll break up the group.”
Mike nodded. “It’s all happening so fast.”
“You need to move on, man. Hanging around isn’t healthy; for you or for me.”
He nodded again before moving closer to Sophie. He didn’t touch her, he just leaned down slightly and kissed her gently. “Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning and we can all talk about this leaving stuff.”
Sophie shook her head. “You aren’t going anywhere…..”
Mike laughed and opened the bedroom door. “We’ll see. Good night.”
That morning, Mike woke up at dawn, a good few hours before his friends would be up. He packed up a suitcase full of clothes and other essentials and went downstairs. He had lied the night before; he had been planning his escape for a good week or so.
He sat himself down for one last breakfast; he ate a bowl of cornflakes while writing the letter that he left on the table. In the few minutes he had before the cab would show up to take him to the bus station, Mike took a jar that had been sitting in the living room for years and went out on the beach.
He listened to the waves for a few minutes, trying to restrain the tears fighting to fall down his face. He filled the jar with sand from the beach and put the lid on it. He held it to his chest for a moment before leaving the beach to sit on the curb and wait.
He never did see the pair of tear-filled chocolate colored eyes following him from
Sophie and Peter’s bedroom window.