(We open in one of the bedrooms in Sheila's penthouse suite. This one is done in shades of cool blues and greens, and like the other rooms in the house, offers a great - and fake - view of LA. Emma lays on the bed, unconscious, her field hockey stick on the bed next to her.)

*The door to the room opens. Zelda enters, smirking. She walks over to the bed and waves a hand over Emma's eyes.*

Zelda: Wakey, wakey, Scholar.

Emma: (Her eyes flutter open) I...where am I? (She sits up...and puts her head in her hands) Ow. What happened to my head? I feel like I've been run over by five battering rams.

Zelda: Nah, just a couple demons.

Emma: (She narrows her eyes) Zelda, how did I get here? Last I remember, Peter appeared with Alex, and there was a light around me... (Her fingers stretch towards her field hockey stick...)

*The hockey stick disappears.*

Zelda: *smirks, leaning her chin in one palm* The light around you, then you ended up here. You didn't miss anything.

Emma: Where's Mike?

Zelda: He's around.

Emma: Where? Is he still at Arizona? (She puts her hand on her heart...and gasps) Oh my GOD! He's...he's been tortured. He's confused and literally scared half to death!

Zelda: Well, now I don't have to tell you.

Emma: (She starts to get up) I have to get to him! I can restore him!

Zelda: *begins to muddle Emma* Oh, stay for a while! We have the room for guests!

Emma: (She tries to fight it) No! I have to get to...Mike...

Peter: (As he walks in) Hello, Zelda. She's being stubborn?

Zelda: *makes a face* No, not at all!

Emma: Peter! Where's Mike? What have you done with him?

Peter: You might say I've taught him a lesson. (He frowns) Don't make me teach you the same. I have plans for you.

Zelda: So I'd behave if I were you.

Emma: Peter, he's hurting! He's lost and frightened and helpless...and you know as well as I do that he's not like that at all!

Peter: He is now. He's discovering what it's like to be the dummy.

Emma: I want no part of your plans. The last time Sheila and Alex had plans for me, they tried to murder me in cold blood.

Peter: (He turns to Zelda) I have some business that needs to be done. You're in charge of her while I'm gone.

Emma: Peter...don't you care about the Guardians anymore? Even a little?

Peter: (Stops) I quit the group, Em. I'm not a Guardian or a Monkee. I haven't been in a long time.

Emma: You are, deep down. Search your heart, Peter. You still have one.

Peter: (Turns away) I have business. Zelda, attend to her and keep her away from Sheila. (He glares at her) But no rough stuff. I MEAN it.

Zelda: *holds her hands up in an innocent manner* I'll be nice!

Peter: You'd better. (He leaves, disappearing into the shadows. Emma shakes her head)

Emma: I still don't know how he DOES that.

Zelda: Well, since I'm essentially not allowed to really have ANY fun with you, I might as well just turn you into something and be on my way. Now, what to turn you into...

Emma: (Stands) You aren't going to turn me into ANYTHING...ow. (Holds her head and mutters) I have to get my field hockey stick back and get outta here... (She tries to concentrate, but ends up holding her head again) Ouch. God, I have SUCH a splitting headache.

Zelda: *sits Emma back down* Just relax, Scholar.

*There's a black light around Emma. When it clears, she's been turned into a rag doll.*

Zelda: *sets the doll at the head of the head, nestled between the two pillow* Perfect * She smirks and heads out of the room.*

(Cut to a remote part of the shoreline near Malibu Beach. An rickety old fisherman's shack leans against the rocks in one secluded spot. The camera travels across the beach, through the window - actually breaking one - and into the shack...revealing that this is no ordinary shack. It's actually the well-guarded entrance to a series of caves embedded in the rocky shore. Mike lays on an old couch, covered with a blanket. Micky sits on a chair made of driftwood and covered with fat pillows. The others gather around their equipment, newer versions of what was in the original MonkeeCave.)

*Micky holds an ice pack to the side of his head.*

Davy: (He and Lauren sit with Micky and Mike) How's Mick, Lauren? There's no change in Mike's condition. He's still very much out.

Lauren: *turns* Mick, here, lemme see. *Micky winces as he moves the ice pack away, revealing a lovely purple bruise just to the front of his left temple. Lauren makes a face.* That bruise is NOT pretty.

Micky: *winces as he replaces the ice pack* Don't feel pretty, either.

Lauren: *holds one hand up* How many fingers am I holding up?

Micky: *stares a moment* Six.

Lauren: *turns back to Davy* How's that for an answer?

Davy: I'm wonderin' if we should take these two to a hospital.

Micky: *groans* No...no hospital.

Lauren: Mick has spoken.

Davy: I'm really worried about Mike. (Looks at Micky) Mick, do you know exactly what Alex and Peter did to him?

Micky: *tries to collect his thoughts* Used some machine to torture him. He was howling in pain. They messed with his senses...

Davy: His senses... (Frowns) Tortured his wolf senses.

Micky: Yeah. *gently props his head on the ice pack*

Daphne: Why Mike? Why pick on him? Why not one of us...or all of us?

Micky: Mike's still vulnerable. *winces* And I think Peter still blames him for his leaving the group.

Daphne: Mike?

Micky: *sits up, moving the ice pack away; winces* Pete confided in me a while ago now that he was unhappy with a lot of Mike's decisions. I promised to keep a lid on it, but Peter blew the lid off. *sighs, wincing*

Davy: (Nods) Yeah. Remember how angry Peter was with Mike when "Head" came out?

Lauren: Over the movie and the soundtrack.

Davy: Peter and Mike were disagreein' all through the "Head" filmin' and recordin' sessions. They both work so differently.

*Micky hands Lauren his ice pack. Lauren concentrates on it, refilling it with ice, and hands it back to him. Micky presses it to the bruise, wincing, but also sighing.*

Davy: And Peter's been so distant the past...six months...

Micky: And helping the devils in some way or another for some of that time.

Lauren: They had to have gotten to Peter while HE was vulnerable. There's no way he's doing this under his own power.

Davy: No. This ain't like our gentle Peter.

Mike: (Mutters) Pete...Pete, no....I didn't mean it... (howls)

Davy: Mike! (Looks at the others) He's talkin'!

Micky: ...Mike?

Mike: (Tosses) No...danger...jasmine...smell flowers...danger...Pete....

Daphne: But there's no flowers here!

Micky: No, it's what they did to him.

Davy: Mike, get up. It's us. We ain't gonna hurt ya.

(Mike's eyes open. He groans...and pulls away from the others, clutching his blanket.)

Mike: D...dave, don't touch me!

Micky: *pulls the ice pack away* Mike? It's only us.

Mike: Just don't touch me!

Davy: Mike, calm down. Peter and Alex aren't here. It's just us.

Mike: Where's Em?

Lauren: We don't know. We lost both of you in Arizona, but we found you and brought you back here to the new cave.

Mike: (Sniffs the blanket) Where did this come from?

Davy: Mick's house.

Mike: It needs to be washed. When was the last time you washed it? (He drops it)

Micky: *frowns; winces* Hey...

Lauren: Mick had it in the wash last week, Mike.

Mike: (Looks at his hands) I...I need to wash my hands...

Lauren: Why?

Mike: They're dirty. (Frowns) I'm dirty. I'm so...useless...

Micky: *softly* No, you aren't, Mike!

Mike: I need to be clean. Where's the bathroom?

Micky: Mike, you know where the bathroom is.

Mike: Right. (He heads for the bathroom, opening the door gingerly)

Davy: (Looks at the others) Ok, who was that, and what's he doin' in Mike's uniform?

Micky: They got him so confused... *replaces the ice pack and winces again*

Davy: Yeah, but what's with the clean thing? I mean, I know Mike's always been a bit of a neat freak, but nothin' like that!

Micky: I don't know.

Lauren: Maybe it's an effect of what they did to him?

Davy: They must have scrambled his circuits so bad, he don't know WHAT he's thinkin' anymore!

Mike: (Rushes out of the bathroom) I ain't usin' that! It ain't clean!

Micky: *slightly irritated* So clean it.

Mike: We got anythin' to clean with?

Lauren: In the closet next to the bathroom. There should be something in there.

Mike: Thanks. (He goes to look for cleaning supplies)

Davy: Ok. This is just weird. What's WITH him?

Micky: I don't know, but... *groans* it's making my head ache even worse.

Davy: Mick, do you want some aspirin? It's in the bathroom. We could always get Mike to bring it out, provided he'll TOUCH it.

Micky: I think I'd better. This ain't feeling much better. *winces*

Davy: (Goes to Mike; cut to Mike on his knees in the bathroom, scrubbing as hard as he can) Mike? We need some aspirin for Micky.

Mike: (He isn't listening) Not clean enough...

Davy: MIKE!

Mike: (Looks up) What is it, Davy?

Davy: I need aspirin. Poor Mick had a concussion.

Mike: Well, why didn't you SAY so? (He holds the aspirin bottle and a well-washed cup between the tips of his fingers) Here you go. (Returns to scrubbing) Now, I need to work on this. It isn't clean enough.

Davy: Um, right mate. (He brings the aspirin and the cup, which he's filled, out to Micky) Here you go, mate.

Micky: *takes the water and aspirin* Thanks, Dave. *swallows the aspirin with the water, then holds out the glass* As long as this gets rid of the kettle drum in my head.

Davy: (Sits down at a large table in the middle of the room) Well, now that your head's feelin' better, we have to decide what to do next. We've lost Urse and Em, and we might as well have lost Mike. He's worthless like this!

Micky: *returns the ice pack to his head; winces* There's gotta be something...

Daphne: And what are we going to tell Emma and Mike's kids? If Katie and Robbie see Mike like this...

Lauren: We tell them he's not feeling well.

Davy: I don't know what to do now. Peter knows us. He knows how we work. He knows we'll come back for Ursula and Emma and to try to fix Mike.

Micky: *pinches the bridge of his nose, then groans* I can't think... *sits back, taking the ice pack away* Mike still cleaning the bathroom?

Davy: He was when I was in there. Maybe some should try to talk to him.

Micky: *eases out of the chair* I'll do it. I gotta talk to him.

Lauren: Mick, I don't know...

Micky: Just because I'm seeing three of everything doesn't mean I'm incapable of talking.

Lauren: Touche.

Micky: Let me try. *starts toward the bathroom*

Lauren: This should be interesting.

(When Mick enters, Mike is now rearranging the cabinets.)

Micky: What are you doing? We had those organized, remember?

Mike: Not good enough.

Micky: *goes to Mike; leans against the wall as the room spins* Mike, you arranged them yourself. What's with the clean kick all of a sudden?

Mike: I want everything to be clean. I want... (he frowns) I want to be useful.

Micky: You ARE useful! You're out leader! We REALLY need our leader right now. *pauses as the room spins again* Mike, we still need to rescue Urse and Emma. Without you, we only have Davy, Daph, and Lauren. My head is spinning so bad I feel like I'm on a tilt-o-whirl. Right now, I'm talking to three of you. Still, I took my chances and came in here to talk some sense into you. *sighs* I know what Alex and Peter did to you. I saw it. Mike...we need YOU. Is there ANYthing we can do to help you so you'll help us?

Mike: (Looks down) I...I don't know. What CAN you do? I have no sword. I don't have Em. I can't...can't...lead.

Micky: We can get you a sword. We can rescue Em. We just...we need help. Yours. *puts a hand on Mike's shoulder, partially to hold himself up as the room spins again*

Mike: (Pushes Micky's hand off and pulls away, against the wall) DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T ANYONE TOUCH ME!

*Micky spins around and does his best to keep from falling down. He ends up on the floor anyway. He looks up, blinking to clear his vision, but the hurt is clearly there.*

Micky: Mike...

Mike: Micky, I...can't...don't touch me. I'm not clean enough.

*The other three hurry into the bathroom.*

Lauren: What happened? *kneels down next to Micky and puts her hands on his shoulders*

Mike: Guys, you can't touch me.

Micky: *softly* Mike's not clean enough.

Mike: (Eyes tearing) I didn't mean to hurt Micky. I just...I've just made a mess of everything. Pete hates me. You probably hate me now, too.

Lauren: *as Micky holds his head in his hands* Mike, no we don't! We could never hate you! You're our friend!

Mike: I hurt Micky. I hurt Peter. Peter hates me.

Lauren: Micky was already hurt. You had nothing to do with him. Peter is obviously not thinking clearly.

Mike: (Shakes his head) Peter's right. I've done some terrible things to him, and to all of you.

Davy: But that's the great thing about friends, Mike. We forgive each other.

Mike: Can you...forgive me? After all I've done?

Daphne: Of course we can, Mike!

Davy: *nods* She right.

Lauren: That's why we're friends.

*Lauren whispers to Micky, who mumbles something. Lauren straightens.*

Lauren: Mick agrees, too. He just thinks that if he moves, he'll puke and you'll freak out because you'd have to clean it up. *shrugs*

Mike: Well, in that case, get him outta here. (Grins) I have to do more cleaning!

Davy: No, Mike. No more cleaning. Why don't we do somethin' else?

Mike: It ain't gonna hurt, is it?

Davy: Well, no, not really. (Gets on the ground with Micky) Mick?

Micky: *without raising his head* Hm?

Davy: Do you think you'd be up for some sparrin'? You could at least watch us.

Micky: *still doesn't raise his head* Be out...in a bit...when the room...lets me off...

Lauren: I think we oughta just let him stay in here until he's ready to come out.

Davy: (Sighs) Right. (Looks at Mike) Are you willing to spar with us?

Mike: (Shakes his head) Can't. Lost my sword. It's broken. Gone.

Daphne: Maybe we can get you a new one.

Mike: (Shakes his head) No, it's broken. (He tries to concentrate. The crushed hilt of his sword appears in a watery, pale blue light) See? It's gone.

Lauren: Oh dear.

Daphne: That's not good.

Mike: Peter broke it. He hates me.

Davy: I'm sure he doesn't hate you. He's just being lead on by the devils.

Lauren: That's right, Mike.

Davy: Look, why don't you come out with us anyway? You could borrow my sword, or just watch.

Mike: Don't want your sword. I want mine. (Sighs) But I could watch you, as long as it's clean.

Lauren: Oh, it'll be very clean!

Mike: All right. (He follows the others outside. Cut to a sheltered area between two large sand dunes. The area large enough for practicing...and hidden enough that no one will ask too many questions about blue lights. Davy, Lauren, and Daphne troop between the dunes with their weapons. Mike follows more tentatively with a spotless old plastic chair from the Beach Cave.)