AN: Hey all! Thanks for the review, Moon! This chapter was mainly written by Authorette Stalker, with additions and edits by Authorette Lighthouse. Chapter 3 is in the works! Also, all chapters are going to be song titles or lyrics, only slightly edited. Try to guess them all! ^^

Happy and Lonesome

Murdoc knew exactly why he'd done it--that kiss, all those years ago, the one that started everything… Of course, he hadn't exactly known at the time, but in retrospect everything got clearer... Hindsight is always 20-20, isn't it? The thing that caused it, though he'd never admit it, was that he'd had a vague attraction to the man for awhile. And it didn't start during the coma, though the forced time together didn't help anything. No, it hadn't started when the dullard was in the coma. It was before.

You didn't attempt to ram-raid a shop without knowing its contents. It just turned out that Stu-Pot was one of those contents. Murdoc had been watching him for awhile… Well, watching the shop, anyway. Stu was just in it. On the weekends… On the day he had decided he wanted to do it, despite Saturday being their busiest business day.

Hitting the blue-haired song-bird was just a bonus, in his opinion. He'd been laughing his ass off, not because he found the situation particularly funny, but because of the pure irony of it. The guy he'd been scoping out was the one he had hit with his stolen car. Just as well. The subconscious attraction had led to some rather odd behaviour on his part anyway. And it all worked out in the end, just like his contract had said it would.

But it hadn't really worked out, had it? The attraction never really faded... In fact, it grew stronger. Yeah, the fame was great, and as much as he loathed himself for it, he enjoyed the nights alone with the singer. The times when they both knew no one would be in the carpark, or when they were in a hotel room together, and the others had gone shopping, or had a separate room… Hell, he even missed those times.

He wouldn't have had them if 2D hadn't caught on so quickly. He both hated and thanked the singer for that. The man had seen right through his real reasons behind sleeping with his girl... He had been jealous and hurt, though he barely admitted it to himself, let alone anyone else. Not to mention he could see the girl was just using him, clear as day. He'd thank him for it, in the long run, he reasoned. And what had it led to? a confusing, though highly satisfying, night together, and the doorway to more wild nights (and occasionally days).

Murdoc had always known that the pretty-boy had more than just a physical attraction to him, though it escaped him as to why. The bassist would be the first to admit there was nothing attractive about his personality, that was part of the reason why he didn't attempt anything lasting... If he got into a relationship with somebody, they'd see him for the manky old wanker he was. That wouldn't do, would it? It was best not to get emotionally involved with anyone. So now he had the perfect set up--someone he could regularly screw, so scared of what Murdoc would do if he told that he'd never dare ask the Satanist to commit. He didn't let himself think of how much more satisfying it was. Everything was working perfectly.

Then the dullard had had to go and ruin it all by saying the three words he had dreaded. The "I love you" comment was too much. He didn't stop, of course, but he didn't plan on letting an emotion like that grow. If the singer was saying it in the heat of the moment, who knew how long it'd be before he wanted to say it during the day, during those not-so-private times when Murdoc just wanted to be Murdoc, and not be in a relationship? The feelings had to stop… So he left. Sometimes though, in the depths of his own loneliness, he'd wonder if there hadn't been more to his running away... If he hadn't been, maybe, afraid. Afraid of having to confront his own feelings for the younger man.

That morning after the Apollo shows, he woke up early, and left the other man asleep in the hotel room. There had been a twinge of something in his gut when he saw the man, peacefully sleeping, but with an heartbreakingly (for anyone besides Murdoc Niccals, of course) sad expression. He almost convinced himself it was just indigestion. No mater what, though, he left. He didn't know where he was going, what he planned on doing when he got there, or how he'd pay for it all, but he had to go somewhere, somehow, with someone's money. So he took on an alias and caught a plane back to the UK, stopping by Kong to pick up some quick cash by putting it up for sale.

Of course, it didn't sell. The place was a piece of junk... Who'd want it, except perhaps a fan? It wasn't a far leap from selling it to destroying it, so Murdoc just burnt it down and blamed some kids so he could collect insurance money on it. Grabbed a couple helicopters with the help of some mates, and flew off to find… Well, something else. He flew around aimlessly for awhile, making stops in random cities. He slowly started to realize there was nothing on land for him, not really. The others took off with the other copters, one by one, leaving him alone. That was fine. He'd cut the fuel lines, anyway.

But it did mean he was alone now. Totally and utterly alone.

He periodically stopped back at Kong, storing away any savable materials and items in a public storage place, flying around in the helicopter and hoping something would pop out at him. That seemed to go on forever... Then he saw it. A giant heap of rubbish floating in the ocean. A perfect place to hide. It didn't take long to fashion it into a new studio, and he didn't really give a thought to the fact that he'd gone from living next to a landfill, to living on one. Even the irony of it didn't mater to him.

Years of anonymity had a way of messing with a person… He'd been on the run for awhile now, and the only way to escape the people who were chasing him was by constantly being someone else. And he was. Always someone new, a new disguise... But the whole time he kept thinking about that other self. The one he had left in the hotel room in New York. The one that missed 2D. The thing was that he knew, deep down, that part of him wasn't gone. Buried and dormant, but never gone. And there was only one explanation why, one he didn't like to think was possible.

But besides the few times when he'd drink alone and start to think of the past (age had a way of doing that to a man), he put the thought out of his mind for the next few months. In that time, he managed to finish the studio, and write some new material… He even made a cyborg replica of the guitarist, after a bit of a brush with the underworld, and he could program the drums himself, and he was on bass… But he needed the singer. No mater how he tried to find a way around it, he needed him... And not just for his voice, though he didn't admit that even to himself.

That was when he began calling. At first from Plastic Beach, anchored just out of sight of the Western coast of England. He was ready to pick the blue-haired songbird up as soon as possible... But the other man had refused. Multiple times. Each time, Murdoc thought that he'd be able to convince him, guilt him, bribe him into it, something, and each time he had been disappointed. Nothing worked, and he couldn't help but wonder why... Why was the man so adamant about not bringing the band back? He didn't understand, but there was nothing he could do... So he took the only logical route. He planned to kidnap him.

It had worked of course. The trusting dullard hadn't even expected anything until it was too late. And now the song-bird was stuffed into a large suitcase, in a boat headed to Plastic Beach. The cyborg guitarist training an eye, as well as a few concealed weapons and one not-so-concealed gun, on the suitcase in case of any movement, while Murdoc manned the boat, grinning.

He didn't feel in the least bit guilty for kidnapping the younger man. It was a necessity, and the bassist had had to do a lot of things out of necessity recently. Although… He might've kidnapped the singer anyway… Just to catch up, mind. No other reason... Not because he was lonely or missed him, or had a sneaking suspicion there was more to his leaving then he tried to tell himself. But having an album to record put a practical edge on it all…