Author's Note: Another "timeless" fic. I'm using modern day knowledge and stuff here, but like "Secrets of a Monkee" I doubt anyone will be able to tell cause the boys still act the same. :D Enjoy!

Peter and Micky sat at a desk guarding a door in a hallway in the back of a museum. They had been hired as temporary security guards while the museum stored newly discovered artifacts from a recent archeological dig in their basement. A certain team of scientists were the only people allowed down there, and it was now Peter and Micky's job to guard the doors leading to the artifacts. How they had even gotten the job was still a mystery to Micky, but they needed the money and he wasn't going to argue. He thought he looked very goofy in the incredibly itchy uniform, and tried not to laugh every time he looked at Peter. They hadn't paid rent that month and Mr. Babbit was close to throwing them out again. Davy and Mike had taken jobs as waiters at a local restaurant to help because they hadn't had a gig in 3 months.

"Gee, Micky," Peter said, "this is pretty easy. All we gotta do is sit here!"

"Yep!" Micky agreed. This was their fourth day working the job and they really didn't have to do anything but sit there. Their shift was from 7 pm shortly before closing till 3 am when two other guards came to relieve them. Once the museum closed at 9 pm, the place was dead quiet until their relief came in. Micky was finding it slightly boring and wished he had something more than a few books and a checkers board. He'd lost to Peter too many times to count, and he'd read all the books he'd brought and even a few of Peters, which were surprisingly more intellectually based than Micky would have guessed. He knew he shouldn't be surprised because he knew Peter's stupid act was just a gag that made the rest of them laugh; Peter was really the smartest out of all four of them.

"What do you think they have back there?" Peter asked, looking curiously at the door.

"I don't know, Pete," Micky answered. "But it must be pretty important to have 24-hour security guarding it." No sooner had Micky said this than they heard a noise from the other side of the door. They both looked at each other questioningly. It had sounded like a bang. Micky wondered if they should go look. Maybe something fell over. After all, there was only one way in there and that was past the two of them.

"Micky?" Peter asked, clearly thinking the same thing.

"You sure no one slipped by while I was in the bathroom?" Micky asked, even though he already knew the answer. Peter wouldn't have slacked off like that. Peter vigorously shook his head no.

"No one is in there, Micky," Peter affirmed.

"Maybe if we just took a peek to make sure," Micky said nervously. Was there a window their boss forgot to tell them about that maybe someone could slip through? Micky and Peter both paused at the door, both afraid to open it to peek. They couldn't afford to lose this job. They could lose it if something had been stolen on their watch. But if it was just something falling, that wasn't their fault and peeking in when they were told not to go in there could get them fired, too.

They both jumped when they heard a woman screaming from the other side however. There was someone in there! Micky quickly fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door. When he threw it open, he saw the room filled with large and small crates and tables lined with various items. Some were very shiny, others looked old and worn. But Micky's attention was brought to two men standing over a woman lying on the floor. The men were each pointing a gun at her. How had 3 people gotten in here!? Micky didn't have time to think about it however as the men whirled on the boys at the sound of the door opening.

"Who are…" one of the men started. The woman took advantage of the distraction, jumped up and kicked the men from behind while their backs were turned. They both cried out and tumbled to the ground; their guns skittered across the floor. The two men quickly got up and one of them lunged for Micky and Peter while the other lunged toward the woman. The woman quickly spun around and landed a kick to the stomach of the man lunging towards her and then did an amazing acrobatic flip over him as he doubled over in pain to land another kick to the back of the head of the man coming after Micky and Peter. Micky blinked as both men now groaned in pain and fell to the floor with a loud thud. This woman had taken them both out with amazing acrobatics that took less than two seconds. Where did she learn how to fight like that? Micky didn't have time to question, however, as the curator of the museum came barreling in the room.

"What the…" he sputtered upon seeing the men sprawled on the ground in pain.

"Mr. Manfred," the woman said to the curator sounding very surprised. "I thought you went home."

"I could say the same for you," his eyes narrowed a bit at her.

"I stayed a little behind," she answered then pointed to two crates behind her. "These men came out of those crates. I don't know how long they were in there, but they pointed their guns at me. I screamed and these guards came in and saved me." As she said this, she walked over to Micky and gave him a pat on the back as though to congratulate him. Micky wondered why she was giving them credit for knocking out the two men.

"Is that so?" Mr. Manfred asked.

"We heard a crashing noise," Peter said, clearly as confused as Micky was.

"And then a scream and came in to see what was going on," Micky finished. "We didn't know anyone was in here."

"I got here this morning and haven't left," the woman offered. "The other guards must have thought I left with the rest of the crew."

"Well," Mr. Manfred said, cutting off any further discussion. "Then let's get the police called. These men were obviously here to steal something. Tork, go call the police."

"Yes sir!" Peter answered and scurried off.

"Are you hurt?" the curator asked the woman.

"No," she answered. "I may have a bruise in the morning, but they didn't hurt me too badly. It could have been much worse though." She now turned to Micky and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you, security guard."

"Uh…" Micky stammered. He still wasn't sure why she was giving him the credit. Sure he and Peter had distracted the guards allowing her to take them down, but he had a feeling she would have been fine either way. "Micky Dolenz. My name is Micky Dolenz."

"Thank you, Micky Dolenz," she said with a beautiful smile. Micky felt himself blush a little. Now that things had settled down, he was able to get a good look at her. She had long, silky brown hair and sparkling green eyes. The purple blouse and jeans she wore showed off her beautiful figure. Micky was struck by her beauty as she looked in his eyes with a twinkle in her own.

"Yes, Mr. Dolenz," Mr. Manfred said, snapping Micky back to the present. "Good work." Peter came back in the room and notified them that the police were on their way. "You gentleman can go home for the rest of the day. I will be here cleaning up this mess with the police."

"Yes sir," Micky and Peter both said. They were both very tired as it was already approaching midnight, so they quickly ducked out of the room. Micky paused at the door to get one last look at the woman as she began picking things up off the floor that had fallen. Peter had to pull on his arm to get him to leave the rest of the way.

"If I didn't know better," Peter said teasingly when they got out to the car, "I'd say you and Davy switched bodies." Micky laughed. Was he really that love-struck? They always picked on Davy for his ability to fall in love at first sight with almost every girl they came across. Micky didn't realize that this time, he'd done it. When they got back to the pad, Mike and Davy looked up in surprise at them. Davy quickly grabbed something off the table and ran off into his bedroom with it.

"What was that?" Micky asked, laughing a little at his nimble friend, but still curious as to why Davy dashed so quickly away.

"Nothing," Mike answered shuffling something under a stack of magazines on the table. "Nothing. What was what? I don't know what you mean. What are you guys doing home early?" Micky nearly busted out laughing. Mike was a terrible liar. They were both hiding something from them. Micky looked at Peter who was biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing, too.

"We had an exciting day at work," Peter said, sitting down in one of the chairs in the living room. "Two burglars snuck into the museum basement in crates and tried to rob this woman at gunpoint down there. She pulled some awesome ninja moves on them and knocked them out though. The curator sent us home after calling the police."

"Wow. What were they trying to steal?"

"I don't know," Micky answered, sitting in another chair. "All the artifacts looked really old. Couldn't tell what they were. Most of them were still covered in dirt and mud." He tried sneaking a look at what Mike had stuffed under the magazines, but Mike caught him and lounged backwards putting his feet on the stack and blocking Micky's view.

"Hey, mates!" Davy said as he exited his room as though he were surprised to see them and hadn't just dashed off to hide something in his room. "You're home early!" Micky really wanted to know what the two of them were hiding, but decided to try and tackle it later. He knew they were too on guard to try and trick them into saying something now. Instead he let Peter retell the story of what happened that night at the museum. Mike yawned once Peter had finished retelling his story and said he was headed off to bed, quickly gathering the magazines and whatever he was hiding off the table so Micky couldn't peek. Davy followed him saying that they had brought home leftover pizza if he and Peter wanted some. Micky was more hungry than he was tired, so he decided to warm some up before heading to bed himself.

"What do you think they are hiding from us?" Micky asked Peter as he handed him a slice.

"Hiding?" Peter repeated. "I don't know what you mean." Peter grabbed the pizza and dashed off to his own room, leaving Micky standing in the living room dumbfounded. So Peter was in on it, whatever it was. Micky briefly stood there, pondering what it could possibly be. But he was too tired to think about it too deeply. He shrugged his shoulders in resignation and went to bed. He'd figure it out in the morning.

That night he had a weird dream. He dreamt of sand, lots of sand, and men in hooded robes chanting around a stone table. And it wasn't the kind of chant you'd find on a cereal box. Then a girl screamed. He jerked awake so violently he tumbled right out of his bed and found he was covered in sweat. That was the last time he'd eat pizza right before bed. Shaking his head to try and clear out the weird dream he stood up and crossed over to his dresser to get some fresh clothing. When he opened his door to walk to the shower, he jumped when he discovered Mike on the other side. He jumped too.

"Don't do that," Micky said flatly, his hand hovering over his heart that was now beating much faster.

"Sorry," Mike said. "I heard a thump. Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Micky answered. "I had a weird dream and fell outta bed."

"Is it hot in there or something?" Mike asked, looking at the sweat dripping off Micky's face.

"Not really, but I would like to take a shower," Micky answered hoping Mike would get the hint and move out of his way.

"Oh, right," Mike responded and walked down to the living room where Peter and Davy were sword fighting with very dull butter knives. Davy landed a good fake jab at Peter's stomach and Peter faked a very dramatic death. Micky laughed with his friends before excusing himself to the shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Mike had made breakfast for all of them. It wasn't much; just four bowls of Rice Krispies and toast, but Micky didn't argue. This was their typical breakfast lately as they were all broke. However, halfway through breakfast, Peter decided to use his spoon as a catapult and flung a piece of cereal at Micky. Micky laughed, faked that he'd been hit and returned fire.

"Come on guys!" Mike sighed, "You're wasting food!" Micky and Peter just laughed, but went back to eating. As Davy gathered the bowls up and started to wash them, a knock sounded on their door. Peter got up shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and walked over to the door. He opened the hatch on the door to see who it was and turned around grinning at Micky.

"Micky, you've got a visitor," Peter smiled and winked. Micky furrowed his brow wondering what Peter was talking about, but didn't have to wait long. Peter opened the door to reveal the girl from the museum waiting there. She was wearing the same clothes she had been the night before, which made Micky wonder if she'd even gone home.

"Hi," she said with a very sweet smile.

"Hi," Peter said. "Come on in." Peter shut the door behind her and gestured for her to sit down in the living room. "What brings you here…sorry, I don't think you told us your name."

"I didn't," she said. "I'm sorry, a lot happened last night. I'm Isis Moore. I'm a grad student working on identifying those artifacts."

"Peter Tork," Peter said, offering his hand to shake it in introduction. "That's Micky Dolenz." He gestured to Micky, who for some reason found it very hard to come up with any words to say. Suddenly he knew how Peter had felt around Valleri.

"I know," she said, smiling at Micky. "He told me last night."

"Oh," Peter continued, "Well these are our friends Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones."

"Nice to meet you two," she said with a smile and a slight nod. "I'm very sorry to just drop in like this, but I…well, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Micky."

"Talk?" Micky asked, finally able to speak at least one word. At least he didn't say crayon.

"Yes, see, how do I say this…" she trailed off. She seemed very nervous. "Well, I know what those men were after. They were after a particular artifact that is worth a lot to a certain people and…well…I sort of slipped it in your pocket at the museum."

"You what?" Davy, Mike and Peter all asked in unison.

"Why?" Micky asked.

"Well, this might sound very strange and a little absurd, but I think the curator was the one who sent the men to get it."

"Why would the curator do that?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, if he wanted it, couldn't he just go down there and take it since he is the curator?" Mike reasoned. "Why would he need to send goons to steal it?"

"He can't just take it," Isis explained. "It's not technically the museums property. None of those artifacts are owned by anyone yet. They won't be until they have been fully identified and catalogued. Then they will be studied further before being possibly donated to a museum. The only reason the artifacts are being stored there is because the lab we normally work at is under repairs. The only two people who could have snuck those men in those crates in order to have them jump out and attack me would be the curator and the archeologist that led the expedition, but no archeologist is going to steal artifacts he dug up. Plus he's a good friend of the family and I know he wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anyone else."

"But why would he do that when guards were on duty?" Peter asked. "Surely he would have thought we would have caught them."

"Honestly, I don't think he knew I was going to be there. And I think he thought you were a little more…daft than you actually are."

"Well that's rude," Peter said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any offense by it."

"Well it's not like you were the one who thought we were daft," Micky said, finally regaining his voice. "Why exactly did you give us credit for knocking those guys out?"

"Well, honestly, I didn't want him to know what I could do. And I used it as an excuse to get close enough to you to slip the artifact in your pocket. I knew he wouldn't think to check your pockets like he might have mine."

"Oh," Micky said, slightly disappointed now. The kiss on the cheek she had given him had just been a ruse.

"How exactly did you do that anyway?" Peter asked. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone move like that. Except in the movies."

"Well, I was raised a very small village in England where there wasn't much for anyone to do, so I learned how to fight. Seemed a reasonable enough thing to do at the time to keep from dying of boredom."

"Yeah, England can be boring in certain places," Davy agreed. "What are you going to do with the artifact if the curator wants to steal it? You can't bring it back to the museum. He'll just try and steal it again, won't he?"

"Maybe you should tell the police," Mike suggested.

"No, they'll never believe me," she responded. "I'm just a college student. I have no proof it was him. I can give it to the archeologist who can put it somewhere it will be safe until it's analyzed."

"Ok then," Micky said pushing himself up from the table. "I'll go get it. What pocket did you put it in?" Micky really couldn't believe someone had slipped something in his pocket without him noticing. It must have been very small and very light.

"Your right pants pocket," she replied. Micky nodded and ran up the stairs two at a time to his room and grabbed his pants from the dirty clothes pile he had on the floor next to his hamper. When he shoved his hand in the pocket of his pants, he felt a small item. When he pulled it out, he realized it was an amulet about the size of his palm. It was really beautiful. It looked like a human eye with a blue stone as the outline and pearl inlay for the background. Micky recognized it as an ancient Egyptian symbol, but couldn't remember what it meant.

As he held it in his hand, he began to feel a little dizzy. He felt as though the room were spinning all around him and reached his hand out quickly to the wall to steady himself, but missed and knocked over a lamp causing it to fall to the floor and shatter the bulb. Micky felt like someone kicked him in the stomach and stumbled around a little, trying to find his bed to sit down, but the room was spinning and he couldn't see it very well. Why was he so dizzy? He tried reaching for his bed to sit down until the dizzy spell passed, but missed and almost fell to the floor. He felt someone grab him and stop him from falling while someone else took the amulet from his hand. He was guided over to sit on his bed by whoever had caught him, but the dizzy spell was already fading away.

"Micky!" he looked up and the room stopped spinning so he could see Mike's worried face looking at him. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"We heard a crash," Peter added.

"You killed your lamp," Davy said.

"Micky?" Mike repeated. Micky saw Isis standing off to the side with the amulet in her hand with an equally worried expression.

"I'm fine," he said, the dizziness completely gone now. "I guess I didn't sleep well or something. Stood up too fast and got really dizzy for a second."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

"You looked more than a little dizzy," Peter added.

"Yeah," Micky answered, standing up for emphasis. "I'm fine now. It's gone." He smiled at his friends to let him know he was ok.

"Well, if you're sure you're ok, I should go," Isis said softly. "I should get this to Mr. Williams. He's the archeologist in charge of the artifacts. He'll keep it safe."

"Maybe you shouldn't go alone," Mike said. "If people are trying to steal that, they may try and attack you again."

"Thank you, Mr. Nesmith," she started.

"Mike," he interrupted. "Call me Mike."

"Thank you, Mike, but I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, we kinda saw that last night," Micky said. "But so did those goons. If they woke up and told whoever sent them what you did, they may send more men. Stronger men. Better to have strength in numbers. We'll go with you." She seemed to think about it for a moment, but when she realized they weren't going to budge on escorting her, she relented.

"Alright, I sort of walked here anyway," she said shrugging her shoulders. She put the artifact in her pocket and walked downstairs. The boys followed her and led her out to their red Pontiac GTO. Once she gave Mike an address, he started the car and drove off.

"What is that thing?" Micky asked. "It's Egyptian, right?"

"Yeah," she replied taking it out of her pocket to inspect it further. "It's called a Wadjet or "Eye of Horus". It's supposed to bring protection and good health. There are a lot of myths surrounding it, but according to one, the god Osiris ruled over the land of Egypt as their king, but Seth, his brother, became jealous and killed him taking over his throne. Osiris's son Horus decided to avenge his father and killed Seth, taking back the throne. But in the battle, he lost an eye. Seth broke the eye up in pieces and scattered it across Egypt. Once it was found it was reassembled by Thoth and given back to Horus, who then gave it to his father bringing him back to life. The Egyptians considered this eye to be very sacred and a powerful symbol of protection and that it could even bring the dead back to life. When they cut into the eye during the mummification process, it damaged the body and because they thought the body had to be intact in the afterlife, they'd often place one of these eyes over the cut to protect it. Each piece of the eye is said to represent a different sense. There are six pieces total, sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch, and thought."

"Those are very common though, aren't they?" Peter asked. "Why would someone be trying to steal that one when they are so common?"

"They didn't usually wear amulets like this. They usually wore chest plates called pectorals. Having amulets like this is rare; most amulets were scarabs. The eye was mostly used in art or to place with mummies. This was also found among artifacts belonging to a high priest who was said to be able to see into the future and control minds."

"You sure know a lot about this kind of stuff," Davy said.

"It's sort of my passion," she smiled. "I've been studying ancient Egyptian mythology since I was a kid."

They pulled up to a very large, very old looking house. It gave Micky the creeps looking at it. It reminded him of a haunted house. He half expected an old butler with an English accent to answer the door when they knocked, but no one answered.

"That's odd," Isis said. "I told him I was coming by today. He said he'd be here all day." Isis reached for the doorknob and turned it. Even the doorknob squeaked like in a haunted house. Micky heard Peter let out a little whimper. "Mr. Williams?" she called as she slowly walked in.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Mike asked.

"It's ok," she replied. "Like I said, he's a family friend. I've known him my whole life. His door is always open to me." Walking through the house was even weirder than standing outside it. There were old artifacts everywhere. It wouldn't have been so bad if the place hadn't been so dark, dusty, and the floor boards didn't creek every time someone stepped on them.

"Oh no!" Isis cried out and ran into a side room. "Mr. Williams!" When Micky peered in, he saw a man lying on the floor, clearly dead. Isis knelt by his side and began crying. The four boys walked into the room, not really knowing what to do. Isis looked at the dead man's hand which seemed to be clutching something. She carefully pulled a piece of paper from his hand and flattened it out.

"What do you think happened?" Davy asked.

"They must have come looking for it," Isis said. Micky walked over and knelt beside her. The paper in her hand said 'It's up to you. Protect it.' She quickly crumpled it up as if she didn't want him to see it. It sounded very weird to Micky though. Why would it be up to her? Couldn't she just go to the cops?

"We should call the police," Mike said.

"There's a phone in the hallway," Isis said. Micky sat next to Isis while they waited for the police to come. No one said anything the whole time they waited. But Micky couldn't stop his mind from racing. There was so much happening. It didn't seem plausible that people would kill an archeologist for a trinket. No matter how old or rare it may have been. But maybe he was just naive. After all, look at all the problems the Monkees had gotten into over the past two years. But he couldn't help but think there was something more going on. Something that Isis wasn't telling them. He just didn't know what.