Disclaimer: this imagine is NOT MINE. Credit to the original author, Woolhat's Travelling Mood. I got this from Donatella's Head.

Rating: PG-13

***

He looked wearily out of the window and sighed, five more hours to go. The journey seemed to take forever, stuck on a plane, no air, just clouds and clouds and clouds.

He took his eyes away from the never-ending sky and looked around. Micky took up two chairs opposite, fast asleep as usual. Even when he was just asleep, Mike missed his company. Peter was slightly drunk, it was his only option after being denied hash for nine hours and Davy was still eating; the only thing he could do to stop the boredom. Mike sighed and scratched his head wearily, just five more hours. He wished he had his guitar with him, just to occupy his mind, but no. He had read every last letter of the newspaper in front of him, even the ads for vacuum cleaners. He was thoroughly and utterly bored. He was tempted to wake up Micky, who had been asleep for most of the journey, but his peacefulness was just too sweet to disturb. Mike clambered out of his seat and slumped down next to Peter in the next row.

"Hey...hey Mike," Peter gave a soppy grin and took another swig of scotch.

"Hey," The Texan gave an off-hand smile and wriggled further into the seat. "Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"Say something man, I think I'm going mad!"

"Hello Michael Nesmith, how are you today?" Peter improvised,

"Bored!"

"You can have my crossword book,"

"No thanks, those things make me worse, I never have the patience."

"Same here. I haven't done one!" Peter giggled drunkenly.

Mike laughed with him out of courtesy and then gazed around again, his mind now going numb. The clouds seemed to be going past faster now, and had a slightly different slant to them.

"Hey, Pete." Mike began in a worried tone, but was stopped by the loud 'ping', which warned everybody to fasten their safety belts. Mike struggled to find his, and then fastened Peter's for him, who was so drunk he couldn't see it. Mike held on, his age-old fear coming back and then he remembered - Micky. The drummer was still fast asleep and could easily be flung forward if the worst happened. Mike built up his own courage and stepped over to Micky, fastening the drummer in without waking him. He would only get hysterical.

Then Mike bolted as quick as he could next to Peter and strapped himself in so tightly he could almost break a bone. The plane now seemed to be on a sharp decline and Mike stared up and down the aisle trying to find a hostess, there was none. He swallowed hard and gazed around at the other passengers, who didn't seem too worried. There weren't many of them, not many travel from Germany to America at this time of the year. Mike regretted ever organizing that German tour, it hadn't got them anywhere, it may have worked for the Beatles, but the Monkees didn't go down well at all. Now he just wished he could be back at the pad, safe in his own bed.

The plane began to bounce uncontrollably and that's when he heard the female voice over the P.A. system. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are currently suffering a slight technical fault, please do not be alarmed, we are in no immediate danger, please remain seated, and keep your safety belts fastened."

Mike felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. The plane seemed to get faster and soon they were almost completely vertical. Mike closed his eyes, the screams and confusion around him becoming louder and louder. Then it was blank.

~~~~~

Mike awoke to a strange smell. It was a gassy kind of smell and he coughed slightly as he opened his eyes.

There was a red haze for a moment and then sudden darkness. Mike raised his head and banged it against something above. Looking up, he found an airplane seat lying on top of him, and that was when he realized the sharp pain in his leg. He panicked slightly and tugged at his leg, suffering yet another dose of agony. He clawed and shoved, using all his strength to throw the chair behind him. And there was the shock that hit him. Mike gazed around, mouth open at the scene that confronted him. Scattered around him were debris, and bodies, lots of bodies. Mike vomited and then tried to stand, his broken leg becoming increasingly painful. He felt a few tears well up as he staggered over women and children, lifeless. Then there was the forest; directly in front of him stood trees, after trees, after trees. No sign of life anywhere. He staggered forward, and then stopped. What about the others, were they all...? Mike spun round, flinching slightly at the pain, and hobbled back.

He threw over chairs and large pieces of metal, screaming their names as his heart pounded more and more. Then he heard a meager whimper and he dived towards the sound, turning over another chair, which had originally been his own before he had joined Peter. "Davy?" Mike whispered, shoving a few metal objects aside. There was no noise from the Englishman, who had lain, crushed underneath the debris. Mike brushed away a tear as he knelt beside his best friend. "Come on Davy." He murmured. Then there was movement and Davy stirred slightly. Mike tried to contain his happiness at finding him alive and decided there was only one way to help.

Any minute and the rest of what was left of the plane would collapse, almost certainly killing both of them. Mike stooped down and dug his arms beneath the smaller man, lifting him painfully off the ground. His own leg hurt more than ever but he staggered on, before finding a safe spot and lying Davy down. Davy cried out slightly and Mike leapt back. The wreckage creaked menacingly and Mike knew he had to find the others.

"Don't worry," He called to Davy, as he painfully darted back. He knew they had all sat pretty close to each other and soon enough he found Peter, who was still very much conscious.

"You're dead," Was the first thing the blond said to Mike as he approached. "I'm dead," the hippy mumbled to himself, clutching his shoulder, "They got me," he whispered, revealing a large metal stake that had rammed its way through his shoulder. Mike felt slightly ill and tried to release Peter from his safety harness. Then he dragged the blond to his feet and forced him towards Davy.

"Where's Micky?" Mike demanded from Peter, but the bassist just shook his head. Mike staggered back to the wreckage just in time to watch it collapse and burst into flames. "Micky!" Mike screamed, running towards the wreckage, but was stopped by Peter.

"No Michael," Peter called quietly, "There's nothing you can do, and we need you."

The tears were overwhelming now and Mike fell to his knees, drowning in the sadness. There was nothing he could do, but even that fact made him even guiltier. He cried and cried, until he couldn't speak. Peter reminded him of Davy's condition and he moved over to help, reluctantly leaving Micky behind. Davy was fully awake now, and screamed in pain every time someone touched him. "He's in a bad way." Peter spoke softly to Mike, whose head was spinning.

Mike looked glumly towards Peter and then whispered, "Brace yourself." The blond looked at him, confused and then let out a cry of agony as Mike gripped the metal rod in Peter's shoulder and with one great tug pulled it away.

Peter looked up at Mike with tears of pain in his eyes and whispered, "thanks."

"There must be someway we can carry him," Mike's mind snapped into action, indicating Davy. "We can't wait for rescue, so we must go for help, all three of us, leave no-one behind." Mike ordered.

"How about that?" Peter suggested, pointing at a large sheet of flat metal. "We can lie him on that, that way his body won't be moved, and we can carry him without hurting him."

Mike agreed to the plan and grabbed the metal, cutting his arm in the process. He slid it underneath Davy and smiled at their meagre achievement. He leaned in closer to Davy and kissed him on the forehead, showing compassion he never knew was there and this stunned Peter. Mike wasn't a hard man, he just couldn't show how much he cared as easily as the others did, who were frequently hugging and complementing each other.

"Let's go," Mike murmured and the two of them picked up the metal, both yelping from their injuries and both taking one last look back at the huge grave behind them.

The process was slow and grueling, having to stop every few strides to ease Peter's shoulder. Mike sat on a rock and inspected his leg. It was swollen and bleeding, but he couldn't find where he had broken it, it felt painful all over. He gazed into the distance and sighed. He was eyeing up all the places where they would have to stop, when he saw something. "Peter, come with me!" he ordered, and hurried ahead. The two young men trudged quickly to the apparition Mike had seen. There, lying in the grass by a huge tree, was yet another body. Their pace slowed as they neared it, and they crept closer. Peter stopped first, resting up against a tree, nursing his shoulder. Mike crept closer still, and whispered "Hello?"

"Hello?" the person asked back and Mike needed no more evidence. Eagerly he shook Micky and then drew him into a warm embrace. "Whoa?" Micky murmured, rubbing the bump on his head. Mike could see that the drummer's vision was blurry and his heart filled with pity.

"Mick...it's me, Mike."

"Mike?" Micky fumbled to find Mike's arms again.

"What's wrong with you Mick? Where does it hurt?"

"No pain...can't see...where is everyone?"

Mike took a deep breath and held Micky close "They're all gone Micky, dead, except you and me and Davy and Peter."

Micky shook his head wildly, the curls performing some mad dance. "No-No-No" he chanted over and over like a small child. Mike grasped hold of Micky's arms tightly and silenced him, squeezing Micky's arms till they hurt, knowing that's the only way he'd listen.

"How much can you see Micky?" he asked worriedly

"Blurs...all blurs. I can see you...you're a blur...just a pale blur. Why are we in a black box?"

"We're not. It's a forest...you have a concussion. You've been in a plane crash. There are four survivors including you. You are Micky Dolenz and live at 1334 Beechwood with Me, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork and Davy Jones. We were on our way back to the USA from Germany."

Mike kept repeating facts until Micky slowly began to repeat his words, absorbing them until he completely understood what was happening. "I can't see much Mike," He began, grasping Mike's hand. Mike led him back to where they had laid Davy, who had passed out from the pain. Micky shed a couple of tears for the blob he saw below him and cried into Mike's chest.

"We need to keep goin'," Mike commanded, taking leadership as he was always relied upon to do.

Micky took over from Peter, who's arm was going numb. He followed Mike exactly, glad that the Texan was wearing white and could be seen against the dark blurry surroundings.

Although their breaks were less frequent, it still seemed that they were going around in circles, with no civilization apparent. Occasionally they found a stream and bathed their wounds and drank their fill. They each helped clean Davy up, offering clothing as bandages. Mike kept pushing them on, and soon found himself straining to keep upright. He was tired, exhausted and in a great deal of pain.

They decided to stop for the night and he lay back and tried to forget everything. "Mike?" Micky asked blindly, crawling up beside him.

"Hmmm?"

"Mike. Can I sleep beside you?" Mike nodded, and then realized that Micky couldn't see the gesture and instead pulled him down into a hug. Micky felt warm and soft, something Mike had never noticed before, except in his dreams. There was something about Micky he was drawn to, and he was afraid to admit it even to himself. He tried to ignore these feelings and lay back to sleep. Suddenly he felt a caressing finger by his ear and he sat up again to face Micky.

"Sorry Mike," Micky murmured, thinking the Texan was angry with him.

"Don't be stupid," Mike smiled, hugging Micky again. He wanted it to come across as a simple, friendship hug, but Micky wanted more. He used his fingers to find Mike's mouth and edged towards it. Mike knew that he could easily stop this from happening but didn't and they brushed lips. At first a slight tingle ran down Micky's back and he soon realized it was Mike's finger, running up and down his spine. Micky gave his famous little smile and lunged for Mike's lips again, hitting them with full force and plunging his tongue inside. The kiss evolved with Mike's participation and they snuggled closer, basking in the moment.

"I never felt this way before," Micky whispered when it was over, "All I know is I've felt it for a long time,"

"Me too," Mike shivered from the cold and cuddled up to Micky, brushing his face against Micky's delicate curls. Micky danced his fingers over Mike's chest and, for a moment, forgot about all the pain and suffering and concentrated just on Mike, the handsome young man before him.

"I don't know what I would have done if you'd been..." Mike began, but was silenced by yet another kiss. Micky wanted to feel him as close as possible, wanted to be protected by those strong arms and to be loved, he needed the love. While they were in Germany, he had a different girl in his bed every night, but he could never feel any love from any of them. Even with them, he was alone. Micky wrapped his arms around Mike's chest and squeezed lovingly.

"Love me Mike," He whispered,

"What did you say?" Mike gave a serious look he knew Micky could see.

"I...I said, love me Mike," Micky murmured, unsure himself about what he was saying.

"Micky...I...I mean you're my best friend...but,"

"No, I understand Mike," Micky began to move.

"No." Mike held him tight, "Stay, I'm sorry, don't go...it's just all a bit sudden."

Micky nodded and ran his fingers through Mike's hair, before resting his head and falling asleep.

Chapter Two

Peter staggered around to where Davy lay and collapsed beside him. He knew his wounded shoulder shouldn't look that colour but he kept it hidden, he didn't want to worry the others. Davy was awake and gazed around with marble eyes, still trying to understand what had happened. Apart from a couple of broken ribs and a broken colour bone, he was fine in the bone department. But inside, his organs were struggling to stay functioning, making him cough with pain. Micky sat down beside him and blinked his eyes spontaneously. By now he could see almost perfectly through his right eye, but his left was still almost totally useless. All three were silent, looking up into the trees and across the land, looking for some sign of people. Mike had gone down to the river and they let him be, he needed to think.

The water was cool, and was soothing on his burning leg. Mike crossed his arms and drifted into endless thought. What were they going to do? Where were they? These were his first thoughts, but gradually his mind drifted to the previous night, and how Micky had declared how much he cared. Mike smiled genuinely, the sun reflecting off of the water into his face and letting off a mild radiance. Mike promised himself that if they ever got back to the pad alive, he would show Micky how much he cared. He clambered painfully to his feet and began to make his way back to the others.

When he got back, he found Peter, sitting up staring at him, and Micky feeding Davy with a couple of berries he found. "They could be poisonous," Mike murmured to the drummer.

"The birds were eating them." Micky whispered,

"I'm not a bird!" Davy retorted,

"Well, you go out with enough of 'em!" Micky laughed, his humour never failing to ease the moment. Mike giggled and sat down with them, stretching out his leg.

"Where do we go from here?" Peter asked quietly, eating a berry.

"I...I just don't know," Mike looked around wistfully, "There doesn't seem to be any sign of human life."

Micky snuggled closer to Mike and the Texan subconsciously put his arm around Micky's shoulders, pulling him closer. Peter regarded them suspiciously, knowing everything. He hadn't slept from the pain in his shoulder; he couldn't help but overhear.

"Let's get moving." Mike climbed to his feet and encouraged the others. Micky never left his side but Peter looked doubtful,

"We can't. Davy can't go any further, this is useless Michael,"

"We can't leave him!" Mike squeaked, immediately angered that the blond should give up.

"We won't. I'll stay here, you and Micky go ahead."

"We'll never find you again."

"You will, I know you will, you have a sixth sense Michael, I can tell."

Mike gave him an uncertain look and then glanced at Davy, who eyes were growing dull. "Ok." He whispered, and took Micky's hand, dragging them both into the undergrowth. Peter waved goodbye and lay down beside Davy to keep the Englishman warm.

Micky yawned loudly and kept a tight grasp of Mike's hand, occasionally caressing it with his finger. He had never noticed how good-looking Mike was, and now, even when he was covered in blood and grime, he still seemed immaculate. Micky smiled to himself, the importance of their situation never bothering him, as long as he was with Mike. Mike stopped after pushing himself along for half a mile and leant against a tree. Micky wrapped his arms around Mike's neck and swung in for a kiss, tickling the back of Mike's neck. Mike pulled away slightly and looked at his friend with sadness in his eyes.

"This is wrong," he murmured,

"No. This is what's right. This was meant to be." Micky whispered in-between kisses. He let his fingers wander down Mike's chest and stomach and toyed with his belt buckle.

"Micky...we have to go get help," Mike tried to push Micky away half-heartedly.

"This won't take too long." Micky promised, easing his hand inside Mike's trousers, a slow grin crossing his mischievous face. Mike let out a quiet moan and leant all his weight against the tree to hold him up. Micky found his lips again, and stroked as he kissed. Mike bent his head and nibbled at Micky's neck, arousing the drummer too. It wasn't long till the Texan climaxed, quick and merciful.

Micky seemed to know exactly what he was doing, craftily undoing Mike's trousers, without him even noticing. They were both too tired for anything extensive, so, when finished, Micky took control, pulling Mike into a deep kiss. Mike closed his eyes and half-collapsed in Micky's arms, relishing in their warmth and safety.

"Don't go away Micky," He whispered, "Don't ever go away."

Micky hugged his stomach, it grumbled painfully. "Damn berries," He growled. Mike was fast asleep; his bad leg outstretched trying to ease the agony. Micky looked at him with love in his eyes, but a pain in his heart, they were still lost, and there was now just a vast emptiness. The forest had stopped and now it was just wasteland. Micky sighed and shook Mike awake. "Come on partner, let's go."

"Come on in, you sure look good to me." Peter kept reciting his lyrics in a desperate attempt to keep Davy awake, "You gotta stay with me man!" He threatened.

"Where's Micky and Mike? Where are they?" Davy fretted.

"They're comin' Dave, don't worry...they'll bring help soon." Peter smiled, unsure if he would ever see his friends again.

Mike wiped the dust from his eyes and looked into the distance. His heart pounded and his ears were ringing, but he was sure. "Mick!" He called behind him, glancing at the drummer, who was lying flat out on the ground.

Micky raised his head angry and exhausted, "What?!"

"A town! It's a Town!" Mike leapt up and down and grabbed Micky's arm, pulling him up and dragging him towards his find. The two ran as fast as they could given their current state and rejoiced. It was a town. They were saved.

The town was busy with market traders and people rushing here, there and everywhere. Mike gazed around in shock, the sudden noise hurting his ears. Then he spotted a sign he recognized and dragged Micky towards it. 'Commissariat de police' it read. Mike bounded inside and was confronted by a large man sitting at a desk.

"Eh?" the man asked Mike's business there.

"Hi...we were in an accident, in a plane, in that forest." He pointed out of the door, "we have two friends still there, one's very ill."

"Pardon Monsieur, je ne comprend pas." The man began.

Mike took a deep breath and started again, "Nous sommes Americains, nous avons un accident."

"Un moment." The man smiled and left through a door behind him.

Micky gazed at Mike in amusement, "I didn't know you could speak French," He smiled.

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Mike warned him,

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to tell me when you get back, " Micky smiled, partly to himself.

The man returned, this time accompanied by a tall blond woman, who looked very concerned at their appearance.

"Can I help you?" She asked in a French accent.

"Yeah...where are we?" Mike asked, just realizing that he hadn't a clue as to where he was.

"You are in a small town just outside Madanin, Tunisia." She spoke calmly.

"Tunisia?!" The two cried in unison.

She nodded and listened as they explained. "We were traveling by plane from Germany to America," Mike began, "We had been traveling for four hours when it suddenly had a fault. It crashed in that forest over there. There were only four survivors, us included, and the other two are still in the forest. We need help urgently, one's in critical condition." Mike's panic began to surface as the woman translated all of what he had said to the police officer.

"Come with me," She smiled and led them outside, where a Landrover quickly drew and up and they clambered inside.

"Don't go Davy, stay awake man, please." Peter pleaded, holding Davy's hand.

"It 'urts Petah, it 'urts real bad." Davy clutched his side. Peter looked up to the sky, begging that his best friend be spared. "Do you hear that?" Davy murmured.

Peter pricked his ears and listened intently. There it was again, a faint cry in that unmistakable voice.

"Mike!" Peter cried, leaping up as he saw the vehicle approach. Micky leapt out first and drew Peter in a warm embrace, feeling the tears that ran down Peter's face.

Chapter Three

Mike stalked in through the door and slumped on the couch. The pad smelled very musty and he saw dust piling up everywhere. He lolled his head back and breathed deep, determined never to leave that couch again. Micky rushed in through the door and leapt on top of Mike.

"Careful!" Mike scolded him, clutching at his leg, which was in a cast.

Micky grinned. "Do you know I'm the only one with a full bill of health?!" He laughed, blinking both eyes.

"It's typical of you to go through a whole plane crash and only come out with a piece of metal in your eye." Mike groaned.

"It hurt!" Micky protested, his voice having a hurt tone to it. He soon relented when Mike tickled him, his one major weakness. Micky smiled and leant forward for a deep felt kiss. "You know," he began, "If our relationship survives a major disaster, it can survive anything, even your temper!"

"What temper!" Mike laughed, still tickling and reducing Micky to a fit of giggles.

"Get a room!" Peter growled playfully, coming through the door with his arm in a sling Davy wheeling in close behind him.

"Don't worry guys, I won't be in this thing forever, just a few months, then we can do another tour." To which he received a pillow in the face from Mike.

"Never again!" He scowled, pulling Micky closer, "There was only one good thing about that tour!" he smiled, kissing his new love on the lips.