Hiatus never sat well with Murdoc Niccals, and the one his band was currently experiencing was far worse than the last. He leaned out the window of his bedroom, watching the early morning fog roll in off the Thames, and lifted his half-spent cigarette to his lips. It had only been two years and already their names were fading from the public conversation. They hadn't been a trending topic on Twitter in months, which stung more than he'd expected it to. For a technology that hadn't existed when the band had formed, it was now an essential promotional tool. But with nothing to promote, aside from a half-cocked idea for a line of sneakers, it was hard to stay a part of the constantly changing digital conversation. So here he was, at 5 AM on a Saturday with nothing better to do than smoke and sulk.
A recent bout of insomnia only made things worse. Sure, he could drink himself into a stupor and pass out if he wanted, but he only felt more tired when he finally came to after that. He had a sinking suspicion that had something to do with the upcoming birthday that was looming over him, more daunting than any zombie or groupie horde. Forty-six, or, as Russell liked to point out, "Closer to fifty than forty now!" As if he needed a reminder. As if his back didn't constantly ache. As if lines in his face and the graying at his temples didn't mock him every morning in the bathroom mirror. 'Fuck Lards, and fuck birthdays,' he thought bitterly, stamping out his cigarette on the window sill. 'I need a fucking drink.'
He rose, not bothering to shut the window, and left his room. The brownstone was quiet as he ambled down the hallway to the stairs. He had barely put one foot on the first step when a sliver of light in his peripheral vision made him pause. He turned back. Who else was up at this hour? He approached the door beneath which the yellow strip of light was glowing. A hand-written sign reading 'PLEASE KNOCK J' was taped to the door. The hand-writing belonged to his guitarist.
He hesitated, glancing back at the stairs. 'Ah fuck it, we're probably out of beer anyways…' He wrapped his knuckles lightly against the door.
"It's open," came the familiar female voice from the other side.
He turned the knob and pushed, using his free hand to shield his eyes from the light as he entered the room. "Wot're you doin' up, girlie?" he asked, squinting as he waited for his eyes to adjust. As they did and the room slowly came into focus, he found the Japanese young woman standing over her bed, a suitcase open atop the comforter and a pile of clothes in her arms.
"Packing," she said matter-of-factly. She set the clothes in the suitcase and crossed the room to the dresser, poking around the open drawer.
"Packing?!" the bassist echoed. His chest suddenly felt tight. "Wot for? I thought we cleared up that whole replacing ya with a robot thing!"
Noodle laughed, and brushed a lock of purple hair behind her ear. "I'm packing for University. I'm moving into the dorms tomorrow, remember? You signed the forms right along with Russ-kun and 2D-kun." She carried another armful of clothes to the bed. "You do remember, don't you?" she asked.
He did, though the memory was fuzzy. "Fuck, it's time for that already?" he said, running a hand through his thick hair.
"It is," she said, smirking at him. "And you swear too much."
"I fucking don't." He scowled.
"You fucking do," she said. "You're lucky those weren't my first English words – no way CPS would've let you keep me if I'd been cursing like a sailor when they came for that first home visit. And where would the band be then?"
"For god's sake, Muds, would you put some damn pants on?" Russell snapped, grabbing the bassist by the arm and hoisting him up off of the couch.
"Don't fucking touch me!" Murdoc growled, trying to yank free. The larger man's hand stayed firmly wrapped around his bicep, cutting off his circulation.
"These people are gonna be here any minute," the drummer said, glaring darkly at him. "And if you want Noodle to play guitar on the album, we can't have them thinking your some kind of–"
"Alright, alright!" Murdoc cut him off. "Jest lemme go, will ya?" Russell released him and he stumbled forward, clutching his arm. He'd have to wear a long sleeve shirt to hide the bruises that were already forming. 'The things I put up with for my music,' he thought venomously. He knew better than to fight his drummer though, and so he stormed off to the carpark, muttering curses as he went.
As he waited for the elevator, he stewed silently to himself. He half-wished the little creature had never been shipped to his door. Of course it would mean the band would still be short one guitarist, but it also meant his studio wouldn't have been turned into one big daycare. Daily he fought with himself over which scenario was worse and today, the band had won out.
The elevator dinged its arrival and he had to stop short when the doors slid open as he found himself face to face with his singer/keyboardist. 2D let out a yelp of surprise and then crouched down frantically. It took Murdoc a second to realize that 2D hadn't been alone in the elevator. He was now on one knee, one long-fingered hand over the eyes of their young guitarist. "B-Bloody 'ell, Muds, give us some warning, eh?" the blue-haired young man stammered, cheeks flushed. "S'not ap-p-propriate!"
"Oh sod off, faceache." Murdoc rolled his eyes. "Get 'er out of 'ere, 'afore I put my boot up yer arse."
Nodding silently, 2D scooped the little girl up into his arms despite her confused protests and hurried off down the hall.
When Murdoc returned to the living room, fully dressed in a gray, long-sleeved V-neck T-shirt and dark jeans, he found Russell and 2D scrambling like mad trying to make the place presentable. 'Losing battle, that one,' he thought with a chuckle. He sat down on the couch, watching them with growing amusement as they hurled armfuls of clutter and trash out the window to the cemetery outside. 'That oughta piss off the rotters next time they wake up,' he mused. He pulled his pack of cigarette from his back pocket and began searching for his lighter.
"Murdoc-sama?"
He was startled by the voice at his left and turned. He hadn't even noticed the little FedEx delivery seated next to him. She was wearing an outfit he couldn't remember ever seeing on her before – a jean jumper over a pink T-shirt with matching sneakers. Her helmet was also missing and in its place, a simple barrette held some of her dark hair away from her face. And she was staring at him. "Wot?" he asked.
"Kitsuen wa anata no tame ni waruidesu," she said, pointing at his pack of cigarettes.
"Eh?" He glanced at the pack. "You want one?" he asked. He held the little paper box out to her. "Hell, I think I was your age when I started, why not?"
She took the pack from him and then, before he could react, she hopped up from the couch, darted to the window and tossed it outside!
"OI!" Fuming, he leapt up as well, advancing on her. "Why you little–"
"Hey!" Russell giant hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't even think about it."
"But did you see what she did?!" Murdoc demanded.
"Shikashi, sore wa anata no tame ni waruidesu!" Noddle said, stomping her foot.
"The hell is she even saying? Speak English, dammit!" Murdoc growled, tugging at his hair with one hand.
Fists clenched at her sides, the little girl was shaking, her lower lip trembling.
Instantly 2D was at her side, kneeling down to put an arm around her. "I don't fink she wants ya smokin' in 'ere," he said.
Murdoc dragged a hand across his face. "Fucking genius we got ourselves here, folks."
2D flinched as if struck. "W-well, it won't look good fer the 'doption people, would it?"
"No," Russel said firmly, tightening his hold of Murdoc's shoulder. "It wouldn't. She's doing you a favor, man."
"Favor my arse," Murdoc mutters. "Wait a minute… 'adoption people'? Who said anythin' about adoptin' the little sprog?"
This time it was Russell's turn to roll his eyes, which he had to do with an exaggerated shrug, otherwise no one would've been able to tell. "The government won't let three grown men just be roommates with a ten-year-old girl. We gotta be her legal guardians or they'll take her to some foster home or something. And that means she won't be able to be in the band." He released the bassist's shoulder. "So can you, like, not be you for an hour?"
2D, still kneeling on the ground, clasped his hands together. "Please, Murdoc?"
Noddle, mimicking the singer, clasped her hands as well. "Pureezu, Murdoc-san?"
The olive-skinned man put a hand to his face, massaging the bridge of his oft-broken nose. "Fine. Fine. Jest stop yer whinin'! And you!" He shook an index finger at the little girl. "No more tossing my cigs – you hear me?"
"H-Hai!" she nodded.
"Does that mean 'yes'?" he asked, glaring down at her.
She looked to 2D, who nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!" she declared, smiling up at him. Then, without warning, she launched herself at him, wrapping both arms and legs around his middle. "Arigato, Murdoc-san!"
He staggered back, the wind knocked out of him. "Oh, for the love of–" He took hold of her arms and tried to pry her loose only to find she tightened her grip the more he tugged. "Can we just get this over with?" he sighed, shooting Russell a pleading look.
At that moment the doorbell rang. "Yes," Russell said, turning to go answer it. "Yes we can."
Murdoc chucked at the memory. "If I recall, I gave the finest performance of my career that day!" he said.
"If I recall," Noodle said, "You mostly sat quietly and let Russ-kun do all the talking."
He snorted indignantly. "Details."
She went back to rummaging through her dresser drawers. "Right up until the moment the doorbell rang, I was sure you were going to blow it on purpose. Or hand me off to them, just to get rid of me," she said. "Though I guess I was asking for it, tossing your cigarettes like that."
"Wot was the big idea anyway?" he asked, sidling over and leaning on the dresser, arms folded across his chest.
"They're bad for you," she said with a shrug. "I still wish you'd quit, but I've learned to pick my battles."
"Wot're you so concerned with my 'ealth for, hmm?" he asked.
She straightened up, smiling at him. "I can't help it. As much as you can be a real pain in the ass, I still want you around, you know?"
He frowned. She'd had what he hoped was her final growth spurt over the winter (probably something to do with the experiments her home country had done all those years ago) and was now a good two inches taller than he was. It was unnerving. Hadn't she been barely waist-high only yesterday? Who was this grown woman standing where his ankle-biter should have been?
"What's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading.
"Hmm?" He shook his head to clear it. "Nuffink, luv. Jest feeling really fucking old, that's all." He stretched, felt and heard his back crack mightily, and groaned.
"Aw, I just realized I won't be home for your birthday," the guitarist said.
"Don't you even think about callin' Lards or Faceache to remind them when it comes 'round," he said, shaking his index finger at her. "For once I might get to spend it in peaceful misery, rather 'an 'afta suffer through the torture you lot insist on putting me through."
Noodle bit her bottom lip, thinking, before asking quietly, "Can I call you?"
Murdoc considered briefly before nodding. "Fine."
She pushed the drawer shut then and closed the short gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Arigato, Mudo-kun," she whispered, her voice shaky.
He hadn't heard her use that honorific since Demon Days. After their separation and her tracking him down to Plastic Beach, she'd gone back to using the more proper 'san' and 'sama' when she addressed him. She'd forgiven him for the android, but he'd considered their relationship irreparably tarnished. Now, despite his best efforts, he could feel a lump forming in his throat. Hesitantly he raised his arms and rested his hands lightly on her back. Staring at the ceiling, he drew in a shuddering breath and then sighed. "S'never the same without ya 'round, luv," he muttered. "Gonna miss ya, is all."
She didn't release him. "I'll still be in the city. And I'm sure we'll text all the time. And I could come home on weekends. Lord knows this place will probably collapse under all the garbage without me to clean up after you all."
"Don't you even think about it," he said, letting himself hug her just a bit tighter. "You have fun at school. Get in lotsa trouble and don't you worry about us. But, er, yeah, a text here or there would be alright." The smell of her green tea shampoo was making his eyes water. That was totally it. Murdoc Niccols didn't cry – hadn't done it in forty years. It had to be the shampoo. He blinked hard twice, trying to will the wetness away.
After a moment, Noodle pulled away, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Gomenasai," she said with a quiet laugh. "I know you hate this mushy stuff."
He rounded his shoulders and cracked his neck, looking everywhere but directly at her. "Y-yeah, well, s'really more Faceache's department innit?"
She nodded, her smile growing. "He'll be bawling like a baby when you guys drop me off tomorrow, for sure."
That made him feel a bit better and he chuckled at the thought. "Too right," he said. Feeling the wetness in his eyes receding, he brought his gaze back to her face. "Listen, wot say we go get a cuppa, hmm? Take a break from this for a bit." He gestured at her suitcase.
"I'd like that," she said. "But I don't think even Starbucks is open this early."
"Who said anythin' about bloody Starbucks?" he asked. "There's a 24 hour pub round the corner that's always got a pot on. C'mon." He took a step forward and spun her towards the door, one arm draped over her shoulders. "My treat."
"Ooh, big spender here," she teased, hitting the light as they exited.
"Watch that sass, missy."
"For Satan's sake, how can one kid need so much crap?" Sunday morning and Murdoc was laden with an overstuffed duffle bag and a suitcase as the foursome unloaded the cab outside the dormitories for the University of West London.
"What can I say?" Noodle said, slinging her laptop bag over one shoulder. "I learn from the best hoarders this side of the Atlantic."
Russell handed her a guitar case. "You can always call if you forgot something," he said.
Coming around from the other side of the car, clutching a trash bag full of linens, 2D stammered, "O-or fer anyfin', r-really." His black eyes were brimming with tears.
Noodle reached out and patted his cheek. "I'll call tonight, after I'm settled. Ok?"
The singer could only nod and bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
Murdoc pushed past them all. "Well, you lot can stand around like a bunch of imbeciles, but I'm offloading this stuff."
Russell leaned down and hoisted another pair of suitcases up from the sidewalk. "Right behind you."
They caravanned into the building, crammed themselves into the service elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. Noodle led the way to a room at the end of the hall marked 5-L. "This is me," she announced, pulling her key ring from her purse and opening the door. The room was small and sparsely furnished with a bed, desk and chair. For a moment they were all silent. Then Noodle tossed her laptop bag on the bed and spun around to face her bandmates. "It's perfect!" she said, smiling widely. "Like a blank canvas!"
Russell laughed. "So long as you're happy, I'm happy," he said. He set the suitcases down on the floor.
"Y-ya need any help unpacking?" 2D asked, setting the bag on linens on the bed.
"Nah," she shook her head. "I'll be fine. Thanks for lugging it up here though."
"Course!" 2D said. He was wringing his hands. "Anyfin' fer you, luv."
The guitarist took a step towards the singer. "You ok?" she asked softly.
The blue-haired man nodded. "I am, I am. It's jest…aw, hell." In one swift motion he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her in close.
"Hey, it's alright," she said, feeling his slender frame shaking as she returned the hug. "I'll call you tonight, really."
"C'mon now," Russel said, putting a hand on 2D's shoulder. "Let's go home."
"B-b-but," 2D whimpered.
"Oh enough, faceache," Murdoc snapped, dropping his load of luggage on the floor unceremoniously. "She went to 'ell and back without us. I fink she can 'andle livin' a few Tube stops away."
Noodle gave the singer one more tight squeeze and then released him. "Exactly. I'll be fine. And we'll still see each other lots." She held up a hand, her pinkie extended. "Promise."
2D smiled through the tears and linked his larger finger with her slender one. "Promise."
"That's better," Russell said. He nudged 2D aside gently and scooped up the young woman in a one-armed hug. "Have fun," he said. "Be good."
"I will," she said, kissing the drummer's cheek. 2D squeaked indignantly at that so she took hold of his arm and pulled him in for a cheek kiss as well. As the trio separated they all turned expectantly towards the bassist in the doorway.
Murdoc took a step back, eyes darting out of the room. "R-right," he said, coughing into his fist. "Well, see ya 'round, kiddo."
He dared a glance back at her and found she was smiling at him, dark eyes shining. "Yeah. You too."
2D looked disappointed but didn't say anything. He only hugged Noodle once more and followed their self-declared leader back out into the hallway. Russell gave the guitarist a farewell fist bump and ambled out after them.
Out on the sidewalk as they approached the cab, Murdoc turned and began walking off.
"Oi!" 2D called after him. "Ain't you comin' 'one wif us?"
When they go no reply, Russell merely shrugged. "Let 'im go. He'll be back eventually."
As Murdoc listened to the car pull away behind him he let his shoulders sag, and then pulled his cigarettes from his back pocket. Just as he was about to light up, his cellphone let out a 'ping' sound announcing an incoming text. Dully, he pulled out his phone and flipped it open. The message read:
'Those things are bad for you, Mudo-kun!'
With a confused grunt he spun around, looking up at the dorm building. A purple-haired figure was leaning out a window on the fifth floor.
With a smirk, he wrote back. 'Mind your own business, girlie.'
Another 'ping.' 'Fat chance. XO'
He waved her off with a dismissiveness that was less than sincere and kept on walking down the street. As he rounded the corner there was another 'ping.' 'Love you.'
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. A tightness seized his chest and stomach, as if Russell was sitting on him, and there was water in his eyes again. No shampoo to blame it on this time. He swiped furiously at his eyes with his sleeve, took a deep breath and stood up straight. The message was still staring at him from the little screen on his phone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he hastily typed, 'You too' and hit 'SEND'. Then, hands shaking, he wrote, 'Tell anyone and yer dead.' He pocketed the phone and scrambled to light a cigarette.
He heard the phone 'ping' again but kept walking. He was a good number of blocks away and three cigarettes down before he checked it. 'Wouldn't dream of it. ;)'
A smile crept over his face. "Ah, that's my girl," he said to himself.
~Fin~