Waking with a start and rolling out of the bed. Stuart looks rapidly around the room, then drops down onto all fours and gingerly lifts the bed clothes, checking under it for any sign of the bassist. Not finding him he sits back on his heels and breathes out a huge sigh of relief. Then running his fingers through his blue hair, he grips it, trying hard to press the horrible dream images out of his head. He's been having the same dream for the last three days now. Each new episode becoming more vivid and real than the last, and it's grinding on his very last nerve. After the first one he'd thought that it may be something that he was eating before bed, so he'd thought very carefully about what it might be. But after spending some time running through it all, he'd come to the conclusion that he hadn't changed anything there and it was the usual kinds of things that he'd always eaten. Until he recalled the tin of cat food that Murdoc had tricked him into eating and simply put it down to that. After three days of the same nightmare though. He now believes that it wasn't that and isn't sure what to do about it.
"I wonder if Noo knows of something I can do to make it go away?" he mumbles while hauling himself back to his feet. Grabbing his bathrobe and slipping it on, he picks up his toilet bag and heads to his bedroom door. Carefully creeping it open and peeking out into the car park through the gap in the door. Stuart looks around for any sign of the bassist before he steps out. Instantly complaining when his bare feet touch the concrete floor, he slips back into his room and slides on his high-tops. Then without bothering to do up the laces, he makes his way out again. Taking a moment to peek around the corner at the Winnie before he opens the door. The singer is rather surprised to see that it's dark inside and it's only then that he realises that the music has been switched off. Wrinkling his nose at that in confusion and quickly heading back to his room. He checks the clock beside his bed, seeing that it's 3am and slumps his shoulders. Weighing it up and coming to the conclusion that he's far too awake to sleep now. He makes his way back to the corridor and wanders inside, passing through the lobby on his way to the communal bathroom.
Slipping off his robe and hanging it on the hook, Stuart removes his shoes and underpants, dropping them lazily on the floor and walking to the showers. Turning the tap with just a quick look over his shoulder, he shudders and moves under the warm water. Letting it rush down over his head and blocking out all the sights and sounds around him. Closing his eyes and holding his breath. He suppresses the last of the dream images and feels himself beginning to relax. Settling back against the wall and watching the water slip through his fingers like quicksilver.
On the other side of the room the door of the third stall slowly opens and Murdoc pokes his head out and looks around. He shrugs as if uninterested and steps back, retaking his seat on the closed toilet and going back to reading the pornographic magazine in his hand. Turning the page with a sneering smile, he reaches down to pick up the bottle on the floor beside him when he suddenly hears a sad sigh echoing around the room. Haltingly he hesitates for a moment, gritting his teeth in annoyance before finally picking it up and taking a big swig. Not about to let the singer spoil his recent good mood. He ruffles the magazine in annoyance and tries to focus on the naked woman on the page.
"Why did it have to be that?" Stuart's voice bounces around the stall with the bassist. Which makes the older man lift his eyes slowly from the page and grumble softly through his firmly clenched teeth. "Why not bunnies and ice cream. I like bunnies and ice cream. Oh, and puppies. Yeah, puppies would have been really nice. Why couldn't it be that instead of him. I don't wanna have Muds perving around in my head." Murdoc sits up straight and widens his eyes at that, with his mouth slowly dropping open in absolute shock. "It's bad enough that I live with the smelly old troll. Why am I dreaming about him?" Slowly standing up and shuffling to the door, Murdoc makes his way to the corner and cranes his neck to look around it at the lanky younger man standing in the shower.
"The dirty little sod?" he whispers to himself. Completely dumbfounded at what he'd just heard and becoming more and more disgusted by it. Slowly pulling his head back and making a sick face. He then considers leaping out and scaring the guy. But after what he just heard him say, he's not entirely sure what sort of "perving around" the singer means. Tiptoeing back to the toilets and gingerly closing the door. He steps up onto the toilet lid and crouches there, not wanting to know anything at all about it. "Ack! I knew my devilishly good looks would get me into trouble one day," he mumbles to himself with a tired sigh and once again tries to absorb himself into the pages of his porno.
Finishing his shower and turning off the water. Stuart steps out and grabs a towel from the rail, quickly drying himself off. Wrapping it around his waist and grabbing another, he dries his hair then carefully wraps it around his head, humming pleasantly while walking over to the vanity. Taking his toothbrush and paste from his toilet bag. He brushes his teeth, then rinses his mouth and removes the towel from his head. Staring at his reflection, he combs his hair then packs everything away and picking up his underpants, puts his shoes and robe back on and makes his way back to his room.
Taking a seat at the breakfast table later that morning, Stuart looks over at the door just as Noodle walks in. Remembering that he had wanted to ask her about nightmares he's about to open his mouth when he sees Russel step in after her. So deciding that it would be best to wait until they're alone, he smiles and greets them instead. Noodle smiles pleasantly at him as she passes, opening the cupboard door and taking out a bowl, she fills it with muesli then milk from the fridge before taking a seat next to him. Barely lifting her head when a low groan rattles it's way into the room from the corridor outside. Which is the usual way that the bassist announces his arrival after a long night and very little sleep. Murdoc wanders in yawning, then snaps his jaws shut with an audible click when he catches sight of the singer.
"Morning Muds," Stuart smiles with a waggle of his spoon.
"Ergh, it's you," he grunts back at him, taking a wide berth around the younger man and heading for his favourite spot at the end of the table furtherest from the door. Not quite understanding that, the singer raises an eyebrow.
"Um yeah. Who'd you expect it to be?" he asks, watching Noodle pour cereal into his bowl then splashing milk over it. "Thanks." He smiles at her, then looks back at the still grumbling bassist.
"Shut up. Damn love-sick weirdo," Murdoc growls back, lighting up a cigarette and tipping his chair onto it's back legs, resting it against the cupboard behind him and puffing smoke up towards the ceiling. Lifting his head sharply and raising his eyebrow at that. Stuart almost opens his mouth to ask what he means when he catches the evil glint in the bassist's black pupils. Realising that that might cause more trouble than he can handle at the moment. He instead closes his mouth and sucks his lips back hard, stirring the cereal around in the bowl and watching the way the milk and little shredded wheat pillows mix together.
"Who's a love-sick weirdo?" Russel asks, then immediately wishes that he hadn't.
"You, with the fridge. So when are you getting married then?" Murdoc quips back with a smirk. Rolling his eyes and huffing out, the drummer shoots an angry look over the table at him and picks up his fork.
"Man, one day that mouth of yours is gonna get you in so much trouble," he warns the older man, pointing his fork at him almost threateningly. But the bassist waves him off with a chuckle and picks up his rum bottle. Not in the least bit interested in what Russel thinks about him.
For most of the meal after that, the band members are quiet. Each of them far too busy with their own thoughts, to engage each other in the mindless chatter that usually makes its way around the table. Murdoc is tapping away on his mobile, returning a message to someone who's answered a query that he had made that morning. More than likely in relation to some kind of dodgey deal. Russel is mentally piecing together some bits and pieces, working out a taxidermy sculpture that he's been puzzling over for the last few days. Noodle is writing mental poetry to remain calm and keep herself emotionally distant from the tension in the room. And Stuart is biting the inside of his cheek, like a nervous squirrel. Still annoyed about the dream and wondering what the bassist meant about love-sick and who it was aimed at.
Despite the fact that the older man is endlessly firing his vitriolic comments and opinions at any and often all people, that happen to be within spitting distance of him. He doesn't tend to do it without some kind of truth being involved in what he says. Even if some of it is untrue, it's laced with enough honesty to make whatever it may be, poisonous enough to hurt on the deepest level. Which is exactly why he does it that way and tends not to bother with false claims and out and out lies. This of course means that you haven't really got much to fire back at him. Those that have tried have attempted to bring him down by making derisive comments about his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of hygiene. Only to find that Murdoc is not the kind to be sensitive about it and take any of what they say to heart. At least he doesn't seem to? Stuart thinks with a small look in the older man's direction. It could be that he feels it, but keeps it to himself?
Later that day Stuart wanders into the music room and slips a cd from the shelf near the piano and opens the lid. Taking the disc out and popping it into the player. He presses play and listlessly drops down into the office chair. Lazily rolling it to and fro while listening to the music, he tries to put all thoughts of the bassist from his head. Occasionally spinning around in circles, a silly grin begins to grow on his face and for a while he forgets all about the nasty dreams that have been plaguing him. The crashing worlds of fear and confusion that spread their tendrils out and deep into his mind. Slowly pulling out one layer after another then mixing and mingling them into a cacophony of noise and desperation, that grips him in its clammy hands. Viciously tightening itself around his throat and strangling the voice from him until he can barely breathe.
Every nasty nightmare that has clawed its way into his head and shroud him in infernal darkness, seems to enjoy doing that. The harder he tries to scream and shout for help, the more choked he feels until he finally gives into it. Only managing a tiny helpless squeak that sounds more like the sort of noise that an asthmatic mouse would make, and no one could possibly hear him. Even if they were only a few feet away, he knows, because that's always the way it ends up. With his feet sinking deep into the floor as though it is made of jelly. He can feel the cold shadowy hand that is making it's way closer and closer to his back, so he struggles harder. Desperate to pull away from it and save himself from whatever nasty thoughts it has in mind. Only to find his feet slip more and more on the slippery surface. Dropping onto his knees then rolling onto his rump he turns to face the creature behind him. Looking up over the arm that he has thrown up in defence, he swallows hard with his eyes growing used to the dark. Then suddenly he sees it, the thing that has been chasing him this whole time.
"Stop!" Stuart shouts, slapping his hands up over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut, to block it all out.
"I haven't done a bloody thing to you, knob head," Murdoc protests from behind him, having stopped short of reaching for the notebook that he had come into the room to get. Instantly spinning his chair around to face the older man, Stuart huffs out in surprise at him. Suddenly he's on his feet as if about to confront him, taking a single step forwards then coming to a stop again.
"Um no, not that. Well yeah, I mean? You did actually. Just not in here. In my dream, in my head bruv," he tries to explain, becoming frustrated at not being able to get his message across well. "I mean-" Murdoc cuts him off with a sharp snort from his nostrils. Not at all interested in engaging the flustered younger man in a discussion about his mental difficulties. He slides the notebook from the mixing board and turns towards the door, muttering angrily under his breath as he steps from the room.
"Idiot." Not about to let the man dismiss him that easily the singer rushes after him.
"No I'm not. You were. You were in my head doing things to me," he squeaks, screwing his nose up in disgust. This brings the bassist to an instant halt, almost causing Stuart to crash straight into him. Stepping back out of hitting distance and gingerly raising a defensive arm as Murdoc slowly turns back around to look at him. Stuart frowns and flinches away, not quite sure what to expect.
"I was in your head?"
"Yes," Stuart responds softly, lowering his gaze.
"Doing things to you?" Murdoc grunts, his rage building dangerously. The singer nods rapidly and flinches away again. "So you're having poofy dreams, but somehow it's my fault?"
"No I-" Curling into a protective ball when Murdoc raises his fist, Stuart yelps in terror and vainly swipes the air blindly behind him, trying to defend himself. When nothing happens he stops and slightly uncurls enough to look back at him. Seeing the man standing there silently huffing through his nostrils, but little else. So he uncurls all the way and weakly wrings his hands, not sure what else to do to make himself clear to him.
"I demand that you stop thinking about me this instant!" Murdoc snaps, shoving a finger up hard into Stuart's left nostril.
"Ow!" the singer yelps, snatching his head back in pain and pulling it out. "You poked me in the brain then, yah sod."
"Impossible. You have to have one in the first place for me to do that," Murdoc growls, wiping his finger on Stuart's shirt. "You're doing it again, aren't you?" he adds.
"Huh, what?" the singer asks in confusion.
"Thinking about me," Murdoc adds with a grunt, narrowing his eyes. The singer stares blankly, then thinks about it.
"Well yeah. But-" He's suddenly struck rather hard across the side of the head and jerk away. "Ow!"
"Stop it."
"Stop what? Why'd you hit me?" the younger man whimpers, rubbing the sore spot.
"Thinking about me," Murdoc replies.
"But-" He's hit again. "Fu-ow! Stop hitting me!"
"Stop thinking about me then," Murdoc responds with a half hearted shrug of indifference.
"I can't!" Stuart snaps, becoming angry. Only to be hit again. "Bloody... Why are you hitting me?" Murdoc calmly folds his arms over his chest and puffs up grandly.
"It's called aversion therapy. I'll stop when you do. Now stop thinking about me," he announces with an evil grin.
"I can't!" Stuart shouts, stamping his foot. Only to be hit repeatedly. "I can't not think about you if you're here hitting me in the head, can I!" Murdoc stop and takes a deep breath.
"Then get out!" he roars at the singer, shoving his face close to Stuarts and staring hard into the younger man's eyes. Hesitating for just a second, the singer then turns on his heel and races from the room. Watching him leave the bassist grins coldly and dusts off his hands, then slowly makes his way out of the room and back to the Winnie to make a few notes in his notebook.
Sitting in a cupboard in the cafe, Stuart sniffles then wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. Once again the bassist has managed to make him feel small, helpless and stupid and he's tired of it. But he really doesn't know how to put an end to it without ending up beaten half to death and left on the side of the road like a bag of rubbish. Just saying that he'd like to give the guy a kicking makes him feel good. So far though, he hasn't managed to work up the courage needed to actually make this a reality. He has said it within hearing distance of him though, which was difficult but he wasn't about to let him continue to think that he was a weakling for the rest of his life. The bassist made a joke about it, not even seeming a bit bothered by the remark. Which just went to show how little the man regarded him as a person, as far as Stuart could see.
Right now isn't the time to make the kind of stand that he needs to though. Not with the bassist in the kind of mood that he's in. It would be a complete waste of time. Fortunately the singer has paid attention over the years, and he knows that by backing away and staying out of sight the man will come down again and everything will calm down. Slowly pressing the door of the cabinet open and poking his head out into the room. He quickly looks around to be sure he's alone, before he slides out and stands up, dusting himself off and creeping back to his bedroom.
Snapping his eyes open and wincing at the acrid smell of disinfectant and bleach. Instantly Stuart comes to the conclusion that he must have fallen asleep and is once again bound in the depths of his nightmare. He tries to sit up and finds that he can't. Then remembers that he's always strapped to a table and checking his wrists he sees that he is. Opening his mouth to scream he quickly closes it again, recalling that this too is a waste of time, because no one ever hears him. So instead he focuses his effort on trying to slide a hand from one of the straps. Then he can undo the other and the ones on his ankles and get away from what he knows is going to happen next. Coming to an instant stop when he hears a metallic clunk, Stuart turns and cranes his neck to look back and over in the sounds direction.
"Ah, the patient has awoken," Murdoc purrs coldly, lifting the surgical mask up over his nose and mouth as he approaches.
"Muds stop. I don't like this game," Stuart whimpers, still trying to ease a wrist out.
"That's Doctor Niccals to you twerp. Now shut up," Murdoc hisses, stabbing Stuart in the forehead with a finger to force his head back down onto the metal table. Picking up a latex glove and sliding it onto his hand. The bassist makes a show of snapping it before he picks up the other and slides that on as well. Straining his legs against the straps with growing anxiety the singer groans and tries not to listen to the sounds that follow. Determined to get away this time and not let the nightmare follow its usual course.
"It's only a dream. It's only a dream. It's only a dream," he chants over and over to himself with his eyes closed, clicking his mouth shut when the metal surgical table rolls over and clanks to a stop beside the table near his head.
"That's what you think," Murdoc husks icily in his ear with a slow hiss. Making Stuart snap his eyes open and stare up at the older man in abject terror.