It was late at night by the time Micky and the others arrived at the Chanel manor. The Monkee stared up at it in awe, his eyes wide and betraying the fact that he was not Baby Face. Rocco noticed and found it odd, but none of the others seemed to care. Most likely they were too interested in the prospect of getting the valuables to pay much attention to Micky.
Micky himself was growing all the more frustrated and confused, and had been ever since his conversation with Ruby before he had left. The fact was, the memories he had been dreaming of would make sense, if he was not Baby Face. And yet that seemed so unheard-of. How could it be that he was actually Micky Dolenz? He had never heard tell of a knock on the head making someone think he was someone else entirely. He supposed it was possible, but he still did not think it plausible. Slowly he stepped out of the car.
He could not help thinking that, if he was Micky, he was about to commit a crime that he had never done before. Micky had not done anything illegal, and he could end up in jail. What was more, what would the others think? He would most certainly be a disappointment to them.
"Boss?"
He came back to the present, looking at a confused Rocco. "Yeah? What is it now?" he growled after a moment's hesitation.
"Are you doing okay?" Rocco looked purely baffled?not that Micky blamed him.
"Yeah," the drummer replied, brushing past him and heading for the house. "I'm just peachy." He was lost in the confusion of the two worlds that he was being alternately pulled towards. Which one did he belong in? Was he Baby Face, or was he Micky? Or was he somehow both of them? He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He hated such dilemmas.
"Hey, Boss, we got the window open," Eddie announced then, coming over to him from the side of the mansion. "Are you coming in now?" He smiled, looking pleased with his accomplishment.
Micky started, again returning to the situation at hand. "Sure," he said after a noticeably long hesitation. "Yeah, I'm coming right in." He wondered if he sounded as unsure of himself as he thought he did. Eddie did not indicate any confusion, but he was usually lost in his own little world of inventions and gadgets. Tony, on the other hand, would have noticed any odd behavior immediately. Micky wondered if he was still alive.
He sighed to himself and crossed to the open window, gazing at it for a moment before climbing in. "Well," he said to himself as he lowered himself down onto the tiled floor, "here goes nothing." He adjusted his tie absently as he studied the room. He had ended up in the downstairs study. Books lined the walls and several others were set out on tables. The furniture was not covered in white sheets, indicating that the Chanels were not planning to be abroad for very long. Micky hoped that they would not return that night.
He could hear the others coming in after him. Rocco came last, and he shut the window when he was inside. Micky did not turn around to face him and the rest, as he was afraid that his doubts would be obvious if he did. He swallowed hard, wanting badly to know for certain who he was. No one could tell him for certain. He was preparing to commit a heist as Baby Face Morales, and yet the memories of him as Micky Dolenz continued to float through his mind. He felt so confused.
"Where do you think the safe is, Baby Face?" Charlie spoke up.
"Eh. There could be several of them in a joint this big," Micky answered, stepping forward into the room. "Spread out and start looking. I'll see if there's one in here." With that he crossed to the wall and began checking behind the pictures, all the while wishing that there would be someone who could tell him once and for all, without a doubt, who he was. But he doubted that he would be that lucky. His identity was something that he would have to figure out on his own.
****
The Plymouth was the first of the other two vehicles to arrive at the mansion. Since Ruby's car only seated four, and the Plymouth had room for six, the Monkees had been forced to split up. Eventually, Mike had reluctantly chosen to go with Baby Face and Ruby while Davy and Peter traveled with Tony and the others. The two Monkees were in awe over the Chanels' abode, once they arrived.
"Holy frogs' legs! Look at the size of that place!" Davy exclaimed, gazing at it with eyes wide as saucers.
"I bet we could fit three of our Pads in there!" Peter added, watching as Mugsy drove the car up the winding driveway and around the back of the property.
Davy opened the door and climbed out once they had stopped. "Hey, fellas," he said, glancing to Peter and the others, "do you think Mike will be safe, when he's traveling with that sourpuss?"
"Baby Face wants to get here as much as you guys did," Tony answered flatly as he stepped out. "He won't hurt your friend, unless maybe the guy ticks him off on the way." He took out his gun and made certain that it had plenty of ammunition before replacing it. Then, upon realizing that both Davy and Peter were looking at him nervously, he rolled his eyes. "There's probably going to be a gang war," he said by way of explanation. "I'm just being prepared."
"There'd better not be a gang war!" Linda retorted angrily. "We?they?just need to find Micky and get out of here." She knew that she would not be accompanying the Monkees out of the manor?not that she would feel worthy to travel with them right now anyway.
"If Baby Face finds him first, there'll be a showdown," Tony told her while Mugsy searched for a way inside.
"Well, then we have to find him first!" Peter burst out.
Tony grunted and walked across the lawn to where Mugsy was quietly forcing the sliding glass doors open. "Come on. Let's get this over with," he ordered, beckoning to the others to follow as he entered.
They did not waste time. Within moments they were all inside and wandering the halls. Every few minutes there were strange sounds that caused them to start. Tony reached for his gun several times, but each time it proved unnecessary. Micky and the men with him were not anywhere to be seen, and yet their car had been located on the premises. They were there, perhaps on a different floor, or even hiding and spying on the newcomers. In any case, they were growing exasperated.
"There's one thing I'd really like to know," Davy declared without warning as they left the ballroom.
The others looked at him. "What's that?" Mugsy asked.
"Why are you fellas helping us?!" Davy demanded. "What's in it for you?" He did not trust any of them for one minute. They were all criminals, just like Baby Face, and there was not any reason for them to be there. It was natural for Davy to be suspicious.
"Hey, don't ask questions," Tony retorted, his Brooklyn accent thickening. "The only reason we're here is to figure out what's going on, since it sounds like your friend thinks he's Baby Face. We don't have any secret agenda here, and we don't have anything against you guys, but we're not trying to help you." The other mobsters nodded in agreement.
"Oh," Peter said as they turned a corner. "So you mean that the only thing in it for you is learning the truth about Micky?"
"Well, if you want to put it like that, then yeah," Mugsy answered.
They did not realize it, but Micky was just around the corner from them. He swallowed hard, recognizing their voices. Part of him wanted to run to Davy and Peter and to be happy to see them, but the other part wanted to ignore them and to stay as far away as possible. If he was Baby Face, he would not bother with him, and if he was Micky, he would. He moaned softly in desperation, not knowing what to do. Finally he decided to just walk out, play it cool, and see what happened.
"Hey," he said as he moseyed out into view, "what are you crumbs doing here? This is my heist."
"Your heist?!" Davy repeated incredulously. "But you knew we were coming! We're all here to find Micky!"
"Davy!" Peter burst out suddenly, realization and alarm striking. "This probably is Micky!" It made his heart twist, to think of it, but he knew that it must be true. It was the only thing that made sense. He was acting too odd to be Baby Face. Well, for that matter, he was acting too odd to be Micky, either. But there was not another lookalike.
Micky froze in his tracks, but only momentarily. "Micky?!" he repeated, dropping the gravel once again as his voice began to rise in volume. "Why do you think I'm Micky?! I'm not Micky! I'm Baby Face!" he cried, pointing at himself and starting to speak notoriously fast. "I . . . I came here to steal the Chanel stash!"
Tony crossed his arms. "I never would've believed it if I hadn't seen it myself," he muttered. He still was not certain what the explanation was for this, but it seemed that Micky was acting too panicked to only be pretending to be Baby Face. He had not completely lost control of himself when he had impersonated Baby Face in the past. And as Micky continued to speak, talking faster and faster as he tried to assure everyone of his identity, Tony was coming to the conclusion that he was quite mentally disturbed at this point.
"I still don't believe it," Mugsy replied then.
"Hey!" Davy cried, stepping forward and interrupting Micky's spiel. "Micky, it is you! Don't you recognize us?!" He reached to grab for Micky's suit jacket, but Micky slapped his hands away. It was not an act of deliberate violence, but of mounting hysteria.
Micky stared at him, then Peter, feeling overwhelmed. "I . . . I . . ." He shook his head, starting to back up. "I don't know anymore! I don't know why I'm here! I don't even know who I am!" With that he turned and fled, blinded by his confusion and sheer panic. The conflicting memories were crashing through his mind, all demanding to be heard at once. There was Mike, calling to him. There was Ruby, kissing him. There were Davy and Peter, telling him to stay there and that he was their friend. There was Rocco and the other gang members, asking him if he had found any of the vaults yet. And at this point, he wanted to get away from all of it. He had to go somewhere quiet and think, if he could. Behind him he could hear Davy running after him, and that only increased his frenzied state of mind.
"Micky! Micky!" the British Monkee cried, chasing him down the long corridor. "Come back, Micky! Let us talk to you!"
Peter bit his lip, watching the scene, and felt sick. What had happened to their friend? This was not the cheerful Micky they knew and loved. This was a poor, tormented soul, suffering through much anguish of mind and heart. He seemed to be having an identity crisis, though not in any sort of a way that one usually associated with such things. "Micky!" he called as well, starting to step forward to follow.
"I think he wants to be left alone," Tony remarked flatly, not having moved from his position. "Your friend chasing him like that is making it worse."
Peter swallowed hard. "But how can we just let him get away?!" he cried in disbelief and horror. "He came here to commit a crime!" Tears filled his eyes. "I don't want him to get arrested. . . . Micky would never want to steal anything, if he was in his right mind!"
"I think it's pretty obvious that he isn't in his right mind!" Tony answered. "And I don't think he's going to try to lift anything right now. He's too distraught. If you give him time to settle down again, then maybe he'll listen to you."
Peter thought about this. It seemed logical enough, but he was still worried. They might not be able to find Micky again for hours if he got away now, and there was always the chance that someone would see the lights on in the house and call the police. They could not afford to stay there long. And so after a moment, he shook his head and ran after his departing friends. "Davy! Micky!" he called, hurrying around the corner.
Tony sighed.
****
It was not long afterwards when Baby Face, Ruby, and Mike arrived at the mansion. They climbed out of the car and the criminal tested the back doors that Mugsy had previously opened. He was pleased to find that they were still unlocked. Silently he stepped inside and the others followed close behind.
Mike gave a low whistle. "Would you look at the size of this place," he murmured. "It's even bigger than the DeWitts'."
"The others could be almost anywhere, Baby Face," Ruby sighed softly as they turned a corner. "It might take us a long time to find them."
Baby Face grunted. "Here's Rocco now," he replied as the lackey emerged from a nearby bedroom. "Hey, Rocco! What's going on here?" he demanded as they walked over to each other.
Rocco blinked at him in confusion. "You sure calmed down in a hurry, Boss," he remarked.
"Calmed down?!" Baby Face repeated, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"You went past here just a minute ago, and you acted really upset," Rocco told him.
Baby Face's eyes narrowed. "Down this way?" he said, pointing up the hall. "I went this way?"
"Yeah." Rocco stared at him. "Are you feeling alright?" But Baby Face did not answer and instead hurried off in the indicated direction. Rocco watched him go, feeling perplexed, and then saw Mike and Ruby approaching.
"Uh, hi," Mike greeted in a preoccupied way. "It's a long story." He grinned weakly, not wanting to stop and explain any more than Baby Face did.
Ruby, however, looked at Rocco urgently. "The first one you saw wasn't Baby Face at all!" she exclaimed as she walked past. "It was Micky Dolenz!" Still afraid that Baby Face might do something rash when they found each other, Ruby was hoping desperately that Rocco might be able to help avoid a catastrophe.
"Micky Dolenz?!" Rocco burst out. Immediately he followed them, wanting to know more.
No one noticed as the door opened again and as two men in black suits entered.
****
As Baby Face went around another corner, he ended up crashing into Tony, who was coming from the opposite direction. "Watch it!" they both snapped, glaring at each other. Then, fully realizing who he had met up with, Baby Face growled and stepped back.
"Look, I was just here. Where did I go?" he demanded to know.
Tony gave him a strange look before comprehending what he meant. "Left," he replied, pointing in that direction with his thumb. "And your friends are chasing after you." He smirked slightly. Every now and then, his usual seriousness would give way to a certain dry, sarcastic sense of humor.
Baby Face grunted, unamused. Pushing Tony out of his way, he ran off.
****
Micky ran into the den and slammed the door shut behind him, then slumped against it. He remembered Davy and Peter, as the friends of Micky Dolenz. That was why he was feeling so panicked. What was he to do? He recalled them, but he also remembered the previous occasions when he had masqueraded as Baby Face. This completely baffled him, especially when he recollected Mike and Peter working with the gang. Were they all criminals? No, that did not sound right. But what was the answer? Every time he was about to decide one way or the other, something would happen that would ruin all of his careful thinking. Nothing was making sense!
Shakily he took the gun out of the hidden holster and turned it over in his hands. Could he use it? He had wondered this many times since determining that he would carry out this heist. He was supposed to be able to. But he did not feel like a killer! In despair he looked up at the ceiling. "Who am I?!" he wailed.
"You're dead if you don't stop being me. You're doing a crummy job of it, anyway."
Micky looked up with a start, seeing Baby Face come in through another door. The sight of his double caused a new round of confusion to sweep over him, and almost without thinking he raised his gun to point at Baby Face's heart. "Don't come any closer!" he cried.
Baby Face started, not having expected that at all. Then he curled his lip furiously, swiftly pulling out his own weapon. "You'll never make it as a criminal," he declared. "You don't have the heart or the stomach for it. You really know you're not me. Why can't you just accept it and go back to your friends? They're worried about you."
Micky glared at him, placing his finger on the trigger. In his mind, he saw scenes of the past?running from the mobster, being shot by him, fighting on the waterfall. . . . And panic exploded in his mind. He would die if he did not do something, and what he had to do was to kill the one standing in front of him before he himself was killed. It had nearly happened before. It could happen now.
Baby Face's own gun clicked. "So this is how it's going to be, huh?" he growled. He had not intended to shoot Micky, but he would if the alternative was being shot himself. From the look in Micky's eyes, he felt the same way. The mobster braced himself for the certain duel.
"Wait! Stop!"
In through the door ran Peter, followed by the others. Without any thought for his own safety, the blonde Monkee darted between Micky and Baby Face?much to Davy and Mike's horror and the other gangsters' shock.
"Baby Face, you can't shoot Micky," Peter pleaded, looking to him and into the hardened, cruel eyes. "He hasn't meant any harm, and he's not himself right now!" He looked to Micky, seeing the panic and agony in his eyes. The hazel color matched that of Baby Face's, and yet Micky's eyes were so very different?untainted by hatred and malice. "And Micky, you can't shoot Baby Face! You're not a killer. You're one of my best friends! Please, Micky, you have to remember!"
For a long, torturous moment there was complete silence. Mike and Davy exchanged an anxious look, afraid to say anything in case it would cause either Micky or Baby Face to become startled and fire. Peter looked back and forth between the two gun-wielders, his heart beating wildly.
At last Micky's gun lowered. He looked up at Peter, the confusion beginning to lift. No longer was Peter a stranger or someone bewildering. His words rang through Micky's mind and heart, and he knew that it was true?Peter was his friend. Peter was willing to risk danger to himself in order to stop the shootout, and it was that unselfish action that at last was able to help Micky know for certain who he was. This Micky Dolenz person was him. He was not Baby Face. The mobster was the one on Peter's other side.
Feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, Micky set down the gun and smiled softly. "I do remember," he said then. "Thanks, Pete."
Peter broke into a grin, as did Mike and Davy, and they all ran over to him joyously, cheering and embracing each other. Everything was going to be alright. Micky remembered enough now that he knew who he was?and who he was not.
Baby Face rolled his eyes as he lowered his own gun. "Those idiots have to get all mushy," he muttered, then looked to the others. "Let's split before the cops come." They had probably already been there too long. Someone had most likely seen all the lights on and would be suspicious. And Baby Face did not intend to go to jail tonight. Even though he wanted to steal any valuables in the house, he had decided that it would have to wait. Right now he just wanted to be certain that he would be able to leave safely.
"Oh, I think you have bigger problems than the cops."
Two more guns clicked and everyone looked up. To their astonishment and alarm, the black-clad men from earlier were standing in the room. One was pointing his gun at Tony?who had been standing slightly apart from the others?while the other advanced with his weapon outstretched, poking it into the nearest person's back. Both were completely serious, their eyes flashing a cold intention to get what they wanted, no matter what.