Hello! So I'm back at my lovely university. I am writing this to you from my new (HUGE!) dorm room. I hope to get back to a more regular update schedule soon, if not this week. In the meantime, I have this chapter and the next prepped and ready to go, so hopefully the buffer will give me time to get ahead. In the meantime, thank you to all who have favorited/followed this story! Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Murdoc wakes up slowly, and at first the fact that he is alone doesn't bother him. As his awareness increases, he realizes that Virginia should be laying on his chest, he soft, dark brown hair (if anyone asked Murdoc he'd say it was more of an auburn, but to hell with you for thinking he'd volunteer that information) cascading down her naked body. Cascading? Where the fuck did that come from? Murdoc shook his head. She probably just went to her bed, but as he looks at a clock and discovers it is about 9 AM, he knows that's probably not true.

Murdoc stands and gets dressed. He'll go to the kitchen to see if she's there and to make himself a bowl of cereal and some tea. Sex makes him hungry. Murdoc walks into the kitchen, scratching his ass, only to find 2D and fake-Noodle siting at the counter. 2D has a confused look on his face, which Murdoc writes off as normal until the twerp opens his mouth.

"Oi, Murdoc," he chirps, "Have you seen Virginia? She's normally up by now. Noodle and I can't find her anywhere, and her sax is gone." Murdoc's heart plummets; he feels his mouth go dry.

"What do you mean she's gone? We just…" Murdoc trails off. "Mother fucking SHIT!" He yells after a pause.

"What did you do, Murdoc?" 2D asks angrily. "We finally get someone who can come even marginally close to replacing Noodle; someone we both like, no less, and then you go and make her your fuck puppet!" Murdoc cringes, but the blue-haired twit is right. She left because of him. Murdoc feels an ache in his chest. He wants her snarky remarks, her beautiful smile. Besides, the band needs her. "Murdoc, we-" 2D begins, but Murdoc stops him.

"We can't go get her, you idiot!" Murdoc smacks the kid, taking out his anger towards himself once again. "I have no idea where she could have gone." Murdoc feels defeated.

"What if we put up signs?" 2D queries innocently.

"She's not a lost dog, 2D! She's a woman, okay? She's smart, strong, and extremely capable of becoming impossible to find," Murdoc crescendos into a yell.

"Wow," 2D says. "You've never referred to one of your conquests as a 'woman' before." He grins. "You like her."

"Piss off. So what if I did? We'll never find her." Murdoc knows, deep down, very deep down, that he has to find her, but he's not going to admit that to the kid.

"Murdoc we have to look for her. I've never seen you the way you were with her. You wrote her a fucking song!"

"So what, 2D? She left, it's over. I don't want her. I don't need her." Murdoc goes and pours himself a shot.

"Bullocks," 2D snaps.

Murdoc drains his glass and sighs. "We have to find her. You're not right about much, but you're right about her."

2D grins again, the relentlessly cheery bastard. "Alright. Noodle, come on, grab your guns. We've got work to do!" Murdoc puts his head in his hands, already regretting this, but for Virginia, he would do anything.

They start at the airport, questioning everyone they see. Murdoc shows them a picture he took of Virginia while he had watched her perform. It seems like she's been in his life forever, not just a couple of months. Finally, someone recognizes her.

"She booked a ticket to the states. She was with Interpol, or at least she had a badge," the woman says, shrugging.

"Well," Murdoc says through gritted teeth. It's been a long day, and he's quite irritated at this point. "Where in the states did she go?"

"She told me not to say." The girl cracks her gum loudly.

"Fine, fine." Murdoc makes a snap decision. "Three tickets to San Francisco, first class."

…

San Francisco, the city of pompous assholes, Murdoc realizes this pretty quickly. He also remembers that he hates traveling with 2D. The man is far too perky. 2D always says "this is the one! She has to be here." Whenever they try a new jazz club. Murdoc is shocked by just how many there are. It's disparaging, really, and Murdoc begins to lose hope as the days go by. He's generally despondent, having abandoned true sobriety and proper hygiene.

Giving up on San Francisco, Murdoc moves southward to L.A. He figures that anyone who wants to make it big would head to this hell hole of a place. It seems as though the number of jazz clubs only triples, and Murdoc slides further into the bottle. Eventually, he just sends 2D out with Noodle, hiding in his hotel room most nights. He can't take any more disappointments. He can feel the dark presence that has been following him, and that too drives him to stay in his room. It's just easier this way, he thinks to himself.

Once L.A. is exhausted, or at least once Murdoc gets bored, the trio heads to Las Vegas, Murdoc's last hope. If she's not in a resort or a dive bar, he's giving up. He'll go back to Melancholy Hill, finish the album, and return to his life of sleeping around. Murdoc gets a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks about that. He practically lives in this hotel room. He starts drinking as soon as he gets up, and doesn't stop until he passes out. He lives on room service, and when they try to send him a hooker (he's stayed at this hotel before, they know his tastes) he refuses. She's all he can think about when he's even a little bit sober, and that dark presence is freaking him out. Noodle and 2D grow tired of Murdoc's smell and his constant slur of drunken abuses.

Finally, animatronic Noodle has had enough. She shoves him out of the hotel room door with order not to come back until he's ready to "be a functioning member of the group". Fuck it, Murdoc thinks. He dimly realizes that drinking himself into a stupor on a regular basis probably isn't doing any good. He can't stand to hear the other singers perform while he's sober, as 2D has taken video to show Murdoc. San Francisco and L.A. were awful. He wants her voice. He needs it. He's tired of hearing sultry drag queens and jazzy wannabes.

Murdoc soon finds himself stumbling into, as it can only be described, a hipster and snooty tea shop. It's quite possibly the only one in Las Vegas. Murdoc feels a drunkenly inflated sense of pride in finding it. It's the only place around that doesn't serve exclusively overpriced, "artisanal" coffee. Murdoc can't stand coffee, actually.

The place is well-lit, and Murdoc squints. The light blinds his eyes as a month and a half long hangover is beginning to kick in. He shambles over to the barista, already feeling far too sober for his liking. He quickly scans the menu before ordering a London Fog with a bemused smile. Can't be that bad, right? Murdoc settles himself at a table facing a TV playing the news. He's the only one in the place.

The barista brings his tea. Murdoc lets it cool while telling the woman to turn the volume up on the TV. He closes his eyes and takes a long drink.

"… Who bludgeoned the victim with a deadly weapon: the butt of her pistol." Intrigued, Murdoc opens his eyes. "If you have any information regarding the identity of the subject, please call the hot line." Virginia's picture flashes across the screen as the newscaster speaks. Murdoc spits out his mouthful of tea and runs out of the shop. The tea wasn't that good, anyway.