Mike paced the waiting room like a caged tiger.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes.

That had been how long Blair had said it would take for the drug to become fatal.

Did I get him here in time? Will he survive? If he doesn't I'll never forgive myself. Never.

He was terrified. Mike had come to regard Davy and the others not just as friends but as family. Brothers.

Behind him a door crashed open. He swiveled around.

"What are you doing here?" he almost screamed at Blair.

"I've come to complete what I began, Mishmash."

"Nesmith. If you're going to insult me, do it right. And I'm not gonna let you at Davy."

"Oh?"

"I used to be a pretty good wrestler back in Texas."

"Oh, this is no time to gloat, Nester."

"Nesmith!"

"Perhaps we can make a deal. You could help me to kill the other members of the Jones family. You'd become filthy rich as my assistant. Plus, you know a lot about them from David, so you would actually serve a purpose, unlike some of the other dumbbells I've foolishly hired. Think about all the money you could make."

"Never!"

"I know you're tempted. C'mon. Admit it. You want that cash."

"No!"

"Stubborn, aren't you? No wonder you're such good friends with that little twerp. He doesn't have any better taste."

Mike was ready to explode. It was fine for Blair to insult him. But not Davy. He raised a fist and socked Blair in the nose.

"Yow!" he screeched, stumbling backwards. Then, before Mike knew it, the fight was on. He found himself knocked to the ground, his head hitting the tile hard.

Blair hasn't got me beat yet.

Painful though it was, Mike managed to pull himself to his feet.

He won't get to Davy. I can't let him!

"Still think you can fight, huh?" Blair asked in a haughty tone. "Well, I've got a little something that you haven't." He drew a syringe out of his pocket. Mike went pale.

"That's right. The poison I injected your friend with. And I'll give him another dose if you don't cooperate! As it is he only has six minutes left." The Texan reached for it, only to have Blair pull it away.

The door that Blair had come through flew open.

"Mike!" Micky and Peter cried in unison, relief in their voices.

"Guys, I'm kind of busy right now." Mike replied. Though he was definitely relieved that they'd arrived, he worried that one of them might be injured in the fight.

"I knew you'd be here!" Peter declared triumphantly, pointing to Blair just as Mike drove his knuckles into the older man's jaw. Micky dove for the syringe that he'd dropped.

"Mick!" Mike cried, hoping his friend realized that it was the poison.

"Give me that!" Blair screeched, trying to snatch it from Micky's hand.

"No!"

"You sound just like Nishwash here."

"Nesmith!" the Texan protested as he once again reached for the syringe.

Mike eventually just ducked out because, as much as he wanted to help Micky, he was really just getting in the way.

The syringe was surprisingly sturdy, as it held up very well despite all the pulling that was going on. Micky would pull it one way, and then Blair would pull it the other way. What was worse was when they were both pulling at the same time. Mike was more than a little nervous because the needle was on the side Micky was pulling, but he didn't say anything. There was already enough anxiety to go around.

They didn't know exactly when, but at some point Blair came up with the brilliant idea of pushing instead of pulling and he ended up very successfully driving the needle into Micky's wrist. The drummer fell backwards, not having expected the needle to pierce him. And Blair, unable to keep his balance, went with him. And when he did two things fell out of his pocket: a fully loaded syringe and a half empty vile of fluid. Peter picked up the latter and read the label on it.

"Anti…dote. What's a dote, Mike?"

"Well, it's…antidote! We've got to get this to Davy! He only has three minutes left!"

"Count me out." Micky muttered, letting his head fall against the floor.

"Give me those!" Blair demanded as he stood up and walked with wobbly but deliberate steps toward them.

"Not on your life!" Peter yelled, clutching the vial and syringe close.

"Pete! Go give Davy the antidote! Get one of the nurses to help you, if you have to, but say it's an emergency! A matter of life or death!" Mike ordered. Peter scurried off to do as he was bid.

"You're still not done with me!" Blair hissed.

"Mick! Did you and Peter call the police?"

"Huh?"

"Did you call the police while you were on Farrington Avenue?"

"Oh…yeah."

"Do they know to come here?"

"I don't know. Pete called 'em." Micky groaned.

"The police are no match for me." Blair declared loudly.

"Are we not?" a loud voice boomed.

Everyone swiveled around.

###

"And I still do not understand why you didn't report this man harassing you to the police!" the officer growled.

After Peter (and a very pretty young nurse named Hazel) had given Davy the antidote in the nick of time, they had administered the rest of the vial's contents to Micky. The police had also managed to keep Blair out of commission with some help from a pair of handcuffs and a case of anesthesia that Hazel had helped them induce.

Afterwards, they had all assembled in the waiting room to discuss what had happened. Right now the police were ranting about them apparently not reporting Blair's actions.

"But Officer, we have explained several times…" Mike began before the policeman cut him off by holding up a hand.

"None of my colleagues would do that, I guarantee you. Are you sure you didn't stop by the fire station by accident?"

"Yes sir, we're sure. In any case we wouldn't have made the same mistake twice, now would we?" Micky's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Don't be cheeky with me, young man. Just because you were almost poisoned by that stuff doesn't mean that you shouldn't respect your elders! You're disgraceful!"

"But sir…" Hazel leapt to defend the boys, but the officer silenced her with an icy glare.

"I appreciate you helping with the anesthesia Miss Glosser, but I'm afraid you really didn't have anything to do with this case." She looked a bit hurt, but the officer didn't seem to notice. Peter put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"In any case, boys," he said, glaring at Mike especially, "You were lucky this time. We'll be able to cart this character off to jail. But you won't get that lucky every time. So I really would like to recommend calling the police. It can really do a lot of good."

"Thank you for the pointer, sir." Mike said dryly. "But we really have to be getting home. Two of my roommates were almost poisoned. We've had enough excitement for one day."

"Excellent idea, Mr. Newark. And remember: if something this bad ever happens again, call the police."

"I'll remember that." Mike replied, not even bothering to correct the officer about his name. "C'mon, fellows. I'm not letting any of you out of my sight. Especially you two." He looked directly at Davy and Micky, who laughed weakly.

They walked out of the hospital, a little tired but pretty glad that the excitement was over.

"Man, I never want to go through that again." Micky exclaimed. The others all nodded knowingly.

"The police still don't believe us." Peter sighed.

"And who knows if Blair will break out of jail?" Mike groaned.

"I'm sorry, guys. This is all my fault. But you really came through in the end. I couldn't have asked for a better group of friends. Can you ever forgive me?" Davy pleaded, widening his chocolate brown eyes.

Mike got a devilish look in his own brown eyes. "Maybe. But you have to promise me-us-one thing." The group came to a halt on the sidewalk in front of the Monkeemobile.

"Anything!"

"You have to promise that you'll never run away from us again. Never. You made a mistake. And it wasn't exactly a little mistake. But we need you. We care what happens to you."

The guitarist's words echoed over and over in the silence.

"Why don't we all promise that?" Micky volunteered, holding out his hand palm down. Peter immediately put his hand on top of Micky's and Mike put his on top of Peter's. Davy hesitated. Mike spoke again.

"You worried us, Tiny. There were so many times that we could have lost you in the last few days, just because of that mistake that made you think we didn't want you. Don't do that to us again." Davy still held back for another moment, but then put his hand at the top of the stack.

"Promise."

Satisfied that he would keep his promise, they climbed into the Monkeemobile.

"Hey guys, want to sing something?" Micky offered as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Sure! Why not?" Davy exclaimed.

"I know the perfect song. The content may not all apply, but the title is right on." Mike commented.

"What's that?" Micky asked.

The Texan grinned. "'Happy Together'."

THE END

A/N: I know, I know, I should have killed Blair. But I have plans that require he be alive. Though at some point, he probably will die.

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank all of you for reading and your reviews. I'd especially like to thank NatashaPavlova and MonkeeMidgie for mentoring me throughout the making of this story.

Part of what Mike said to Davy was based on something Plush Chrome said to me. So thank you, Plush Chrome. I hope you don't mind.