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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.

"The Long Way Home"

Title: The Long Way Home

Author: Manchester Girl

Genre/Pairing: Davy-centric

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mild language

Disclaimer: This story is 100% fictional.  

Summary: The guys help Davy heal physically and emotionally after he’s the victim of a violent assault.  

Author’s Note: Some of my favorite Monkees episodes are the ones where the guys all pull together and help each other out.   The bonds of friendship between the four guys is a large part of what made the series so special.  


PART 1:  Micky and Davy

Micky was sitting in a chair near Davy’s bed watching his roommate sleep.     It had been a rough night, but for the past couple of hours, Davy had finally seemed to be sleeping peacefully.   

The room had felt warm and stuffy, so Micky had switched on the small oscillating fan in the corner.  It ruffled Davy’s hair every now and then when it turned in his direction.  

Davy grunted softly and turned his head to the side.  He slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room.    He stared at Micky, confused.  

“It’s okay, Davy,”  Micky’s voice was calm and soothing.  “You’re here in your room at the pad.”

Davy closed his eyes, then opened them again.  His head was pounding like a drum.   He put his hand on his forehead and could feel a large bump.  When he tried to sit up,  pain shot through his sides.  His whole body felt stiff and sore.  

“Be careful now,” Micky said.  “You’ve got a couple of broken ribs.  I’ll help you get up.”

Davy was still confused.  “It wasn’t just a dream?  Was it?”

“I’m afraid not, babe.  But everything’s okay now.  You’re gonna be fine.   Can I get you some aspirin?”

“No, I’ll get it.   I need to go to the bathroom anyway.  What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

Davy shook his head in disbelief as Micky helped him out of bed.  

“You should eat something,”  Micky suggested.  “Mrs. Perkins brought us some homemade soup, and Mrs. Williams made some cinnamon rolls.  Some of the neighbors heard about your . . .uh . . .accident and thought you might like some good food.”  

“Accident?”  Davy murmured.   That was a polite way to put it.

“I’ll make you some tea.   Do you need any help?”

Davy smiled faintly.  “I’ve been going to the bathroom by myself for quite some time now.  I’ll be fine.”

Micky returned the smile and added “Now don’t be too upset when you look in the mirror.  Your face is beat up pretty bad, but it’s just bruised and swollen.  No permanent damage, okay?”

Davy walked slowly into the bathroom.   The events of the previous night were coming back to him.  They had been playing at Vincent Van Go Go’s and everything had been running smoothly.  Then two big guys showed up.  They were loud and disagreeable.  They found fault with the food, the service, and the entertainment.   They had been rather vocal in their dislike for The Monkees.   

Davy had been irked.   They always worked hard to put on the best show they could.  He had retaliated in his own sly way, making a few jokes at the big guys’ expense between numbers.   The rest of the audience had laughed, but the two thugs were getting angry.  Once or twice Peter had whispered for him to knock it off, but Davy had paid no attention.   

What he hadn’t expected was for them to jump him in the parking lot after the show when he went outside to put some equipment in the Monkeemobile.   Davy had put up quite a struggle at first, but one of the guys had locked his arms behind him while the other one pummeled him with his fists.    When Micky, Mike and Peter came outside, the two ruffians had fled.  Soon a group of people had gathered in the parking lot.  They were shocked and outraged at what had happened.  

Hurting and humiliated, Davy just wanted to go home.   However, the manager of the club had insisted on filing a police report and having Davy checked out by a doctor who had been in the audience that night.    The boys had finally made it home in the wee hours of the morning.  

Davy washed his hands and looked into the mirror over the sink.  He wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw.   Not only did he have two black eyes, but the rest of his face was badly bruised and swollen as well.   He pushed back his bangs and studied a large purple bump on his forehead.   He wet a washcloth with warm water and gently washed his face.  It was painful to the touch.  He took two aspirin and went to join the others.  His body throbbed with pain every step he took.   

“Hi, Davy!”  Peter said trying to sound cheerful.  “Have a seat here at the table,” he added as he pulled out a chair.   Davy sat down slowly as Micky put a cinnamon roll and a cup of tea in front of him.

“How you feelin’, tough guy?”  Mike gave Davy an affectionate pat on the back.  

“Okay I guess.  All thing’s considered.”

Davy glanced around the kitchen at the abundance of food their neighbors had brought over to the pad.

“Maybe one of us needs to get beat up more often,”  he managed to joke.  “But I’ve had my turn.  One of you can be next.   It’s going to be a while before I’m ready to have another go at it.”

“You’ll feel better in a day or two,” Mike chuckled.  “It won’t take long for the swelling in your face to go down.  Maybe a couple of weeks for the bruises to fade.  Those ribs may take a month or so to heal.  You’ll just have to be careful and not move around too much.”

“Not much chance of that.  I can barely move at all.”

Davy finished his late breakfast and with Micky’s help went into the living room to sit on the couch.  Micky turned on the TV and sat down beside him.   

“I called the police this morning while you were still asleep.  They didn’t have any more information.  The guys were probably from out of town and just passing through.  But they did notify the law enforcement in the surrounding areas.  If they cause any more trouble, they still might catch them.”

“It doesn’t matter . . . .”  Davy sighed.

“Those bastards deserve to be punished!”  Micky insisted.   “I mean, really, two against one?  That’s not fair.   And besides those guys were HUGE and you’re . . . .” his voice trailed off.

“Small?”  Davy was slightly offended.  

“I didn’t mean it as a put down,”  Micky didn’t want to add insult to injury.    

“You know,”  Davy began angrily “It wasn’t like I didn’t try to defend myself.  I hate it when people treat me as less than an adult because of my size.  It’s what inside that counts.  In my mind, I’m six feet tall!”

In my mind, I’m six feet tall?  Micky wondered if that bump on Davy’s head was more serious than they thought.    

“I know, Davy.  I really didn’t mean it as a put down.  Honest.  I’m just angry because you’re my friend.  They hurt you badly enough as it is, and I don’t want to think about what they might have done if they’d had a few more minutes alone with you.”

“I think they would have killed me.  I really think that’s what they wanted to do,”  Davy said softly.  He sounded defeated.  

Micky had been worried about Davy’s physical injuries, but now he considered just what a frightening experience this had been for him.

Davy rubbed his head and winced with pain.   “I’m sorry.  I know you mean well.  I think I just need some more aspirin.”

“How about something a little stronger?”  Micky grinned.  “The doctor gave us a few pain pills in case you needed them this morning.”

Davy nodded gratefully.  

“I’ll get them for you.” Micky headed for the table. “But Davy,” he asked with a hint of worry in his voice,  “you do realize you’re five-three, not six feet?  Right?”

Davy actually managed to laugh.  “Five-three in boots,” he replied.

PART 2:  Peter and Davy

Peter was worried.  It had been four days since the incident at the club.  Davy had mostly divided his time between sitting on the couch staring blankly at the TV and sleeping in his bed.    He ate very little, insisting he wasn’t hungry and seldom had anything to say.  

Their normally well-groomed roommate hadn’t bothered to change his pajamas or even shower.    A slight fuzz of facial hair was beginning to grow.  It wasn’t really a bad look for Davy, but something needed to be done about his dirty, messy hair and wrinkled pajamas.

“Hi Davy!”  Peter sat down on the couch beside him.  Davy’s face was no longer swollen and his bruises had changed from a bluish-purple to a greenish-yellow in color.   

“Hi,” Davy answered suspiciously.  “Why are you looking at me?”

“Your bruises are changing color.  That means they’re healing!”  

What an idiotic thing to say!  Peter wanted to kick himself.  But Davy didn’t seem to be offended.

“Anyway . . .” he continued, trying to sound upbeat, “Mike and Micky aren’t going to be back until late, so I thought maybe we might do something together.  I was thinking of going to a movie.  Or how about we go out for pizza?  Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“But I’m not dressed . . . .”

“I don’t mind waiting for you to get ready.”

“Peter . . . . I just really don’t feel like going out.   I look hideous with all these bruises on my face.   I don’t want people staring at me and I don’t feel like answering any questions.”

“It would be dark at the movie.  No one would be able to see your face.   Or maybe you could at least just shower and change.  Wouldn’t that feel good to take a nice, hot shower and wash your hair?”

Doesn’t that sound like fun?  Wouldn’t that feel good?  Davy looked at Peter curiously, wondering why he was talking to him like he was a baby.  

“WHAT?  Do I smell or something?”

Peter laughed and pinched his nose shut.

“No, not at all.  I’m sure that’s just one of Micky’s science experiments gone bad.”

Davy smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.  “It does feel kind of dirty,” he admitted.   He slowly rose to his feet.  “I’ll take a shower and change, but I don’t want to go out.”

“How about I go get us a pizza while you’re taking a shower?  I’ll be back by the time you’re done and then we can eat.  Will you be okay here alone?”

“Yeah, sure,” Davy replied as he made his way slowly to the bathroom.  He still seemed to be in a bit of pain.

When Peter came back with the pizza, Davy was standing in the kitchen looking anxiously out the window.  He had showered and shaved and was dressed in jeans and a striped t-shirt.  His hair was still slightly damp but it was clean and combed neatly into place.   He turned and smiled with relief when he saw Peter.  

“That really smells good.  I’m guess I’m hungrier that I thought.”  Davy got two bottles of Coke out of the refrigerator.  

They sat down together at the table to eat.

“The pizza’s still hot,”  Davy commented.

“I brought it home just as soon as Pop took it out of the oven.  He was asking about you and wanted to know how you were doing.  He gave us the pizza on the house and said he was glad you were feeling better.”

“That was nice of him.  But does everyone know what happened to me?”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  Everyone cares about you.  That’s all.”

Davy reached for a second slice of pizza.  

“Thanks, Peter.  Really.”

“For getting the pizza?  No problem.”

“No.   I mean for not saying ‘I told you so.’   I knew those guys were getting angry and you tried to tell me to shut up, but I just kept running my big mouth.    Telling stupid jokes that only I thought were funny.   And look what it got me.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Davy.  Those guys were just jerks.”  

Davy shook his head.  “I brought it on myself.  Ever since this happened I just feel worthless.  I’m so nervous and jumpy.   That’s why I was looking out the window when you came home.   I thought I heard someone out there sneaking around, but it was only a dog.   I guess a part of me feels like those guys are going to come back and finish me off.”  

Peter was concerned.  Davy might be a little sensitive about his height sometimes, but he was normally confident and self-assured.  Some might even say cocky.  “Are you still taking those pain pills?  Maybe that’s affecting you.”

Davy shook his head.

“Maybe you need to get out for a while.  How about the four of us go down to the beach tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so.  I’m not ready to go out yet.  But I promise I’ll at least shower and dress.  No more spending the day in my pajamas.”  

Peter smiled.  Davy wasn’t quite Davy again, but at least it was progress.

PART 3:  Mike and Davy

It had now been six weeks since that terrible evening at Vincent Van Go Go’s.  Mike, Micky and Peter were driving home from a gig at a party.  It had been a great evening.  The only thing missing was Davy.

“It’s just not the same without Davy,”  Peter remarked looking up at the full moon.

“I know,” Micky added.  “Do you think he’ll ever play with us again?”

“He will,”  Mike tried to sound confident.  “When he’s ready.  We just can’t push him to hard.”

“He won’t even rehearse with us anymore,”  sighed Peter.  

They rode on in silence for a few minutes.

“I have to admit I am worried about him,” Mike continued.  “It’s not just him staying away from gigs.  Has he left the pad at all since that night?”

“I don’t think he’s been out,”  Micky stated.  “At first he claimed he didn’t want anyone to see him with his face all beat up, but he looks fine now and he still won’t leave.  I’ve tried to get him to go for a walk on the beach or something, but he always has some excuse.”


Davy was already up when Mike came downstairs the next morning.  He was standing at the back door looking sadly out at the beach.

“Morning, shotgun!”  Mike said as he joined Davy.  “Wanna go for a walk on the beach?  It’s really nice this time of morning.”

Davy shook his head.  “Maybe some other time . . .”

Mike took a deep breath and tilted his head slightly to look Davy straight in the eye.  

“David,” He said firmly.  “You can’t keep this up.  You know you’re gonna have to leave the pad eventually.  The longer you keep waiting, the harder it’s going to be.”

“I know,” Davy answered quietly.  “At first I thought it was because I looked so awful, but now that I’m all healed I still can’t bring myself to go out. . . .  Sometime I think I should just go back home.”

“To Manchester?”

“Yeah,” Davy shrugged.  “It’s not like I’m contributing to the band anymore.  Maybe I never really contributed that much to begin with.  But I can’t bloody well get on a plane and fly back to England when I’m afraid to even go outside.”

“Is that what you
really want?  To go back home?”

Davy sighed.  “I don’t know . . . .”

“Do you think you need to talk to someone?”

“You mean, like a shrink?  You think I’m crazy?”

Mike put his arm around Davy.  He felt so small and thin.  Had he lost weight?

“No, you’re not crazy.    What happened to you shouldn’t happen to anyone.  You have every right to be shook up.  But it’s like you’re not the same Davy anymore.  It’s not that you just got beat up.  It’s like they took something from inside you.  You can’t let them do that.  It’s up to you to look inside yourself and get it back.   We’re all here to help.  You can talk to any of us about what you’re going through.”

Davy shrugged.   “I don’t know if I can ever get up in front of an audience again.  I don’t even want to look at my tambourine or think about singing.”

“Davy, you are a very important part of the group.  We need you back.  But why don’t we start with something simple.   There’s a little diner just around the corner and believe it or not, they have honest to goodness, genuine Southern grits just like Ma used to make.  Let’s go out and have some breakfast.   We’ll come right home afterwards.   Then tomorrow you can go somewhere else and stay gone for a little longer.  One of us can go with you.  You don’t have to go anywhere alone until you feel comfortable with the idea.  Just take it day by day.  And you can start rehearsing with us again.   You don’t have to play any gigs until you feel ready.  No pressure.”

“I guess I have to start somewhere,”  Davy smiled.  “Breakfast sounds good, but I don’t know about the grits,” he laughed.  

A few minutes later they were walking down the street to the diner.   Davy was quiet and seemed a bit anxious at times, but they kept walking.   

“Diner’s right there,” Mike pointed when it was in sight.

They walked in and sat down at a booth.   The waitress filled their mugs with coffee and took their orders.    

“I didn’t think I could do this, but I feel okay,”  Davy glanced around the diner.  He finally seemed to relax a bit.

“You’re doin’ great,” Mike said.  He held up his mug of coffee in a toast and Davy grinned as they clanked their mugs together.  

When they walked thought the front door of the pad, Micky and Peter were having their own breakfast at the kitchen table.  

“Hi guys!” they called to Davy and Mike.  They tried not to show too much excitement over the fact that Mike had actually convinced Davy to leave the pad for a little while.  They didn’t want to spook him.  

The phone rang and Mike went to answer it.

“Hi,”  Davy sat down at the table with them.  “How was the party last night?” he asked.

“Oh, you know it was a party,”  Micky began.  “Okay I guess.”

“We miss having you play with us,”  Peter said.   He hoped he wasn’t pushing too hard.

“Yeah, about that,” Davy began, “Mike and I were talking and I was thinking that maybe I could start at least rehearsing with you again.”

“That’s great,”  Peter flashed a dimpled smile.

“Yeah,” added Micky.  “No pressure.  You don’t have to join us for a gig until you feel ready.”

“That was the manager at Vincent Van Go Go’s,” Mike said as he walked over to the table.  “They want us to play again a week from Saturday.”

Davy took a deep breath and smiled.  “Well, I guess it’s only fitting that I make my big comeback there,”  he said with a little laugh.  “How about we rehearse when you two finish breakfast?”

They all smiled with relief.   Davy was back.