When Micky and Rosemary arrived back at the pad, the others had, in fact, woken up. Mike and Davy were playing a round of cards, while Peter watched them, bored out of his skull. When they heard Micky and Rosemary enter, Mike and Davy placed their cards facedown, making Peter jump to his feet, a relieved look dawning upon his face.

"Thank God," he breathed. "I thought I was gonna die, watching these two idiots."

"You didn't have to watch us, Pete," Mike chuckled. "Anyway, where'd you two go?"

"Take a guess," Micky rolled his eyes, gesturing towards his and Rosemary's wet clothes. "So... who's hungry?"

"I'll give you a hand," Rosemary offered.

She followed Micky into the little kitchen. While they made breakfast, Davy, Peter, and Mike went back to their card game. Rosemary silently sighed through her nose as she placed the plates on the table. In truth, she only wanted to help Micky because she didn't really want to be in the same room as Davy. She wasn't as comfortable around him like she used to be. Things were different.

Once breakfast was ready, everyone was sitting around the table. Rosemary sat herself between Mike and Peter. She went into conversation with Peter as she chewed on turkey bacon. Peter, she'd learned for the past few weeks, was smarter than he was in the show. In the show, he played as the "dummy". In reality, however, he truly was intelligent.

"The show looks like fun," Rosemary giggled when Peter told her of one of the episodes, Monkee vs. Machine.

"It is," Peter grinned. "It's like... we get to be ourselves, but in a more hyper way. If that makes any sense at all."

"No, I get it," Rosemary sighed deeply. "Wow. People would kill to be in your places."

"Yeah... or our beds."

Rosemary's head snapped back up in surprise. The boys around her laughed in response. She wasn't sure whether they were laughing at the joke or at the profuse blush that crept up to her cheeks. It wasn't necessarily the joke that made her blush - although she would've been slightly embarrassed about it anyway. It was the fact that Peter had said it. Peter.

"Bloody hell," she breathed. "You look so innocent on the outside."

"I get that a lot," Peter smirked.

"That's nothing," Micky waved it off. "Once, we were telling ghost stories, and Peter's protagonist was-"

"Micky!" Mike and Davy yelled.

"What?" Micky batted his eyelashes, playing innocent with his friends.

"We're eating right now!" Mike hissed. "This is a terrible time to tell that story!"

"I don't think I really want to know what happens anyway," Rosemary chuckled.

"Aw, that's no fun," Micky complained. "Pete really went into descriptions. Never heard anything so graphic. He-"

Mike nudged him sharply in the ribs with his elbow. Micky winced and silenced himself, pouting dramatically.

The rest of breakfast went on in cheerful conversation and laughs. The whole time, Rosemary avoided any sort of eye contact with Davy. Things were still tense between them. The night before, they'd had the longest conversation in two years. No, Rosemary doesn't hate Davy. She can't hate him. Although she can't explain why, she just doesn't.

But forgiveness? After promising to never hurt her in any way possible? Kissing another girl behind her back? He can think again and forget about damn forgiveness. It was just too much to ask for.

Soon, the boys and Rosemary had finished their breakfast. While picking up the plates, she offered to clean up the table. But of course, while Mike, Micky, and Peter went off to find a board game, Davy stayed behind to help. Great. Just what I need.

Clearing up the table went by in complete silence. It was tense, tense enough to slice the thickened air with a knife.

Rosemary carried the dirty dishes to the sink and swished the tap on. Davy leaned back against the table and stared at the back of her head.

"Hey, uh... Rosy," he said hesitantly.

Rosemary squeezed her eyes shut. She whirled around after abruptly switching the tap back off to face Davy. Davy's eyes met with a cold glare. It was almost too intimidating. He was afraid to look away.

Rosemary couldn't explain it, but hearing Davy call her by that nickname struck a chord. Ignoring the dirty dishes, she went up to him and looked him dead in the eye.

"Don't call me that," she hissed.

And with that, she left the kitchen, leaving a very confused Davy to stand there, frozen on the spot.

***

Weeks had gone by. Rosemary had never felt more comfortable around the boys... all except for Davy. After what happened in the kitchen her first morning at the pad, he refused to call her "Rosy". Rosemary was bothered by the sudden silence of the nickname. She couldn't hear it flowing out of Davy's lips anymore.

Though she missed the absence of the simple yet special nickname, she couldn't let Davy call her that anymore. It made her feel something towards him that she never wanted to feel again.

One afternoon, she and Peter were watching television with a bowl of popcorn sitting between them. Davy and Micky were in silent conversation in the kitchen, while Mike sat on the floor against the wall, gently plucking at the strings of his lovely guitar.

"Do you get this?" Rosemary asked Peter, indicating whatever the hell they were watching.

Peter slowly shook his head. "Nope," he said flatly.

With an unspoken agreement in both their minds, he grabbed the TV remote and switched it off.

A shrill ring erupted from the kitchen. Mike peered up from his absentminded playing of his guitar.

"Hey Mike? Could you get that?" Micky asked from the table.

"Oh, sure," Mike said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stood up. "I am a lot closer to it after all, right?"

Rosemary snorted. Mike grabbed the phone after winking at her.

"Hello?"

Silence. Mike glanced at Rosemary, confusion clear on his face.

"Sure..." He motioned for Rosemary. "It's for you."

With Carol in her mind and thinking she had called, Rosemary rolled off the couch and eagerly dashed towards the phone.

"Carol?" she asked before answering.

"No," Mike slowly shook his head.

Disappointed, Rosemary held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello. Is this... Rosemary Ackers?" a nasally male voice questioned on the other end of the phone line.

"Uh... this is she," Rosemary responded. "May I ask who I'm speaking to?"

"Yes, this is Doctor Gibbs," the man said. "Your friend, Miss Hays, gave me this number."

Doctor?

"I'm calling from the emergency room on behalf of Delilah Ackers."

Rosemary's eyes widened. "M-Mum?" she gasped. "Is she ok?"

There was a deep, heavy sigh heard from Doctor Gibbs. Rosemary caught the boys' worried gazes. They granted her questioning looks, to which she shrugged at in response.

"I'm afraid your mother passed away today due to her battle of breast cancer."

Rosemary felt the phone slip away from her fingers and was sure she heard it make a clang when it reached the ground. She felt like she had been shot right in the stomach and was left to bleed brutally on the ground.

"I'm going now. If Mum calls, just tell her where I am."

"Why should she call?" Carol asked.

"She's been ill," Rosemary said solemnly.

"Still?" Carol said incredulously.

"She's getting better," Rosemary assured her.

Breast cancer...