A/N: The last chapter. –Sniffles- But, it was fun and I had a great time with it, made some new friends because of it, and I hope everyone out there reading this enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviewer recognition is at the bottom.

If you'll look to the left of the tour, you'll find hospitals, sunsets, and even more plate abuse. -Avoids more assassination attempts by angry plates-

I don't own Gorillaz, but the rival band and the doggie are mine.

Chapter 9: Of Tears And Sunsets

2-D opened his eyes slowly, dazzled by all the white. It was everywhere, all around him, filling every thing he could see. After the whiteness, he noticed the light. It was bright, blindingly bright, and smack dab in the middle of the vast ocean of white. He was on something soft – a cloud? – and he felt no pain.

Then, his eyes adjusted and he saw tiles that checkerboarded the ceiling and the white curtain that hung from a metal bar on his left. He blinked, turned his head and saw beyond the curtain the window, which was shut tightly against the rain pouring down; pouring down so hard it was as if the heavens themselves were mourning. His eyes traveled up a bit and he saw the IV tube that was dripping that beautifully numbing morphine (at least, he assumed it was morphine. Whatever it was, it worked wonders) into his arm. He turned his head to the right and was instantly caught off guard.

Murdoc was there, as was Noodle. Both were asleep, which was a feat in itself as there were no chairs in the room. Instead, Murdoc sat on the floor with his legs crossed Indian style, leaning back against the wall, his head lowered and his dark bangs concealing his eyes. Noodle was curled in his lap, clinging to him like the small child she truly was, and to Murdoc's credit he held her protectively like the older brother she always thought of him as. Neither had a blanket, though Murdoc had draped his jacket over Noodle in an attempt to shelter her from the cold. Though Russel was absent, something deep inside of 2-D told him that the drummer had only left just recently; perhaps he had woken before the others and gone to get food, or go to the restroom.

2-D looked around the hospital room once more, trying his hardest to recall what all had happened. The band had been watching movies and then... and then what? And why was he in the hospital? That was usually Murdoc's calling card. He shivered and tried to sit up.

"Don't."

The singer instantly obeyed the command, looking over at Murdoc. The bassist had raised his head, and was regarding the Butterscotch Angel with weary, tired eyes. He looked infinitely older, as though he had been living with years of constant worry, and again 2-D struggled to remember the circumstances that had landed him here.

"Use the buttons, Stu." At first, 2-D didn't understand what the Bass Demon was talking about, but after a moment of searching, he located the buttons on his bed and flicked the switch that raised the top half until he was sitting up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Murdoc grimace.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Murdoc grunted. "Damn leg's asleep."

Silence descended again and Murdoc held the singer's gaze until 2-D grew increasingly nervous and looked down at his hands. There was something in the bassist's eyes. Something bad.

"Murdoc? 'Ow long'ave I been 'ere?" The question lingered in the air for a moment like a bad stench until Murdoc sighed.

" 'Bout two days."

/Two days?/ The blue haired singer leaned back in his bed, looking at the white checkerboard ceiling, trying again to recall what on earth had happened. /We were watchin' zombie movies... Noodle was asleep, 'n Russel was goin' offta bed... 'n den.../ "Murdoc? Wot 'appened?"

The Satanist grimaced again, only this time the singer knew it wasn't from his sleeping leg, and 2-D was instantly sorry he asked. He opened his mouth; ready to apologize for his damaged memory, apologize for everything and anything he had ever done wrong, but Murdoc spoke first. "Damien shot you." The three words barreled into 2-D's ears, clearing out all the mess in his head like a maid hit with spring fever. All the dust, cobwebs and painkiller induced haziness were swept aside as everything came flooding back in a mess of midnight, booze and blood.

"Murdoc, wot 'appened ta Styx?" There was an almost frantic terror in the singer's voice; a cold clammy fear that made his black eyes burn.

The Bass Demon didn't respond. He only winced, looked away; that was an answer in itself.

There were tears; millions of them, enough to fill the deepest ocean, and they flowed from 2-D's eyes so fiercely that they rivaled the fat wet raindrops cascading from the hurting skies. There was silence, broken only by the stray hiccupping sob that managed to escape the singer's clamped mouth. He drew his long legs up, buried his face into the sheets at his knees and wept, sobbing soundlessly; afraid that too much noise would attract a nurse or doctor, wanting only to be alone, all alone, to mourn the death of his friend, his family and his bringer of happiness.

Murdoc watched the silent tears and something stirred inside of him, just as it had when Noodle had broken into tears. Something strange, yet forceful; something protective and comforting. It had been born of a gunshot two nights ago, and it seemed attracted to tears and pain. He rose on shaky legs, still cradling the sleeping Noodle. Using his boot he managed to spread his jacket on the ground, and he silently knelt and gently laid her on the jacket, careful not to wake her. He kissed her forehead and straightened; she had needed his comfort, had cried in his arms so hard she had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, but now 2-D needed that same comfort, and Murdoc was the only one there. He felt awkward, crossing the room to stand next to 2-D's bed, yet he knew that this wasn't the time to grab a bottle of Stolie and pretend everything was okay. He often imagined that 2-D was made of steel, having survived a rough childhood, two car crashes and a coma, but the sight before him shattered that illusion. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitated, felt that strange older-brotherly something stir in him again and finally draped his arm across 2-D's shaking shoulders. " 'M sorry, Stu..." He murmured.

2-D pulled his face out of his knees, struggling to control the sobs enough to get a sentence out. "M-M-Murdoc?" His voice trembled as twin waterfalls continued to pour from the corners of his eyes. "Why'd... why'd 'e... 'affta..." His voice cracked and a fresh round of sobs racked his body. He buried his face into the bassist's chest, grabbing his shirt, crying into the soft grey fabric that smelled of everything wonderful and wicked all at once. He felt strong, sure arms embrace him, just as they had the night everything had gone wrong, and again he heard Murdoc's soft murmurs of comfort, telling him to cry all he wanted, that it wasn't his fault, and that everything would be okay.

At that point 2-D had sobbed into Murdoc's shirt, "But it won't!" His voice cracked again, and he buried his face deeper into the fabric. "It'll ne'er be o-okay..."

"Yes, it will." Murdoc whispered in that awkward comforting voice he had only just discovered two nights ago. He tightened his embrace, as if trying to will the heartache and anguish that gripped his best friend's heart to flee. "I know it don't seem like it will now, but it will, Stu. I swear."

After a moment of silence, 2-D sniffled and looked up at Murdoc. "I made 'im a pr-promise... 'n I didn't k-keep it... 'e... 'e 'ates me!" A new flood of tears and sobs surged through him, shaking his body.

"Don't be daft, Stu." Murdoc bit his lip; he had sounded sharper than he would have liked. The strange urge to comfort surged through him again and he gave the younger man another consoling squeeze. " 'Ey, look." His voice was soft and comforting again; it sounded strange and alien to him, but that didn't –couldn't– stop him. "I don't know 'bout any promise, but I know this; Styx loved you, Stuart 'n don't you dare think otherwise, got me?"

Though 2-D made no indication to Murdoc whether or not he had even heard the Bass Demon's words, something in the singer's soul felt better. He buried his face deeper into Murdoc's shirt and let more tears fall.

A moment later the room's door was gently opened, and Russel stuck his head in, only to see a sight so surreal it baffled him. Murdoc was comforting 2-D. Not growling at him, not snapping at him to get over it, not howling with laughter at the tears that the singer shed... comforting him like the brother and idol that 2-D always saw him as. Despite all the sorrow of the last few days, Russel found, to his great relief, that he could still smile.

Too much had happened; to much sadness. He had just been down to the ICU, giving his condolences to Lee and Clayton, who had done likewise. There had been an awkward silence, until Russel had finally asked the two for the whole story (Murdoc hadn't been willing to tell either him or Noodle why he and 2-D had been out there at that time of night, and Russel had suspected it was to fight) and the drummer had been quite shocked to hear that they were burying the hatchet, even in light of recent circumstances. The only one both groups blamed was Damien.

Murdoc looked up and caught Russel's eye. Without moving the still sobbing 2-D, the bassist mouthed the word 'Damien?' and Russel shook his head. Neither said a word; now wasn't the time to inform 2-D of the rival guitarist.

Like Styx, Damien had not survived the crash.

The sun was setting, getting closer and closer to that pivotal point where it would flood the valley with its golden rays. It was the first day that the sky had not mourned with the constant falling of Heaven's tears. 2-D was there, as was Murdoc; Russel and Noodle had gone out to find something for the band to eat, leaving the two alone. Going out there had been Murdoc's idea. Both men had plates in their hands, and there was only one thing transcribed on each plate.

2-D looked down to the ground, and for the millionth time felt a nauseating mix of grief and loss at the absence of a hyper brown dog with mismatched eyes and floppy ears dancing about his feet. With his free hand, he wiped away the tears that were threatening to leak from his eyes. It was amazing how many tears one could produce; 2-D had cried an entire ocean, yet there were still tears to be shed.

"You ready, Stu?"

The black-eyed singer nodded. The two of them flung their plates out, and when they shattered 2-D felt the same exhilaration he had the first time he had thrown his problems into the wind. He was glad to know that nothing seemed to deter that feeling of elation. For the first time in a long, agonizing week of grief and sorrow, 2-D felt his mouth twitch into a ghost of a smile.

Murdoc exhaled a puff of smoke. "Any better?"

Though he remained silent, 2-D nodded, for which Murdoc was glad. The bassist was about to suggest that they head back in, just in case Russel decided to chow down on everything and leave him and 2-D nasty stuff like vegetables, when the sun was once again trapped between the two mountains and painted the valley with its stunning golden light. Murdoc's jaw dropped a fraction of an inch. "Fuck me..." He breathed as a surge of inspiration rushed through him. His eyes darted over to 2-D. "Now, that's somethin' innit?"

2-D nodded, the ghostly smile on his lips getting a fraction bigger. "Yeah... I like it. I try'n come out 'ere e'ery night."

"Do you?" Murdoc looked back at the scene, and the inspiration he had felt multiplied with a second look at the golden valley. Already his mind was making mental notes of new possible melodies. "Might hafta join you one a these days, when I ain't busy, mind."

The singer's heart nearly stopped; wasn't that exactly what he had wished for right before Styx had appeared? His conversation with Noodle echoed in his mind, 'Styx-chan was meant to come to us...' 'Wot's 'e s'posed ta do?' 'I do not think we will find that out until he does it, 2-D-san.' Had that been the dog's purpose? To find 2-D a friend to watch the sunset with? To bring Murdoc and 2-D closer together? If so, it had worked; though Murdoc still used the derogatory nicknames, still kicked him around and all, there was no malice in the acts. It was as if the acts were now just a reflex or a bad habit. It was almost as if Styx's death hadn't fazed the bassist at all, but 2-D knew that wasn't true. Murdoc just did what he always did when something was bothering him; bottled everything up inside and eased the pain with Stolie and smokes. 2-D knew that wasn't the best thing to do, but he also knew that some things would never change. Maybe, on some evening when the two of them were watching the sunset, 2-D could manage to get Murdoc to open up a bit, like that early morning that seemed like a lifetime ago.

2-D's flicker of a smile got another fraction bigger. "Fank you, Murdoc... I'd like dat a lot."

Another exhalation of smoke. "Don't go getting' all touchy feely on my, twat. S'not like I agreed ta marry you 'r nuthin'."

For the fist time in a week, 2-D laughed. It was small, a chuckle really, but it was real and it brightened the gloom and chased away all the darkness and sadness of the world, if only for a second. Laughter could do that; laughter was innocence vocalized. Murdoc was glad that 2-D had somehow managed to hold onto his innocence despite all of this darkness. They were opposites in that way; Murdoc could never be innocent, 2-D, it seemed, could never fully lose his.

They stayed for another few minutes until the sun was gone and the sky was beginning to darken. 2-D pulled out a cigarette, patted his pockets and, once he found he had left his lighter back in the studio, turned to Murdoc who was extinguishing his own spent cig under his boot. "Light?" It was a first step back in the direction of 'normalcy', though nothing would ever be 'normal' again. A new routine, a new set of feelings and actions and small subtle things would eventually become a 'new' normal, but the band would never again have that past normalcy; where waking with the feeling of a warm, furry body next to you, dropping choice bits of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and old Frisbees and discarded tennis balls were normal.

Murdoc got out another cigarette and flicked open his lighter, the small flame swaying in the breeze. The two men leaned close, lit up their cigs and were quiet for a moment, each dwelling on their own thoughts. Finally, after another minute had passed and the sky had darkened even more, Murdoc stretched with a grunt. "Let's get back inside, Tosser, 'afore Russ eats alla food 'r those damn zombies show up." 2-D nodded and the two started back towards Kong.

" 'N Tosser, we gotta lay offa those plates fer a while. Be eatin' with 'r hands at this rate."

"But... dat's wot bowels 'r fer, right?"

Murdoc, not having a wry response to that -or any response for that matter- just snorted a cloud of smoke out of his nose, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and muttered something about brainless dullards.

For the second time that night 2-D smiled.

/I watched them go back to their home, different in a way, yet in a way still the same. Murdoc was still grouchy and he still drank and swore more than he should, and 2-D, despite the pain of the last week, could still smile, still laugh. But they had changed too; Murdoc, when none of the others were around, was more brotherly towards 2-D, and a fierce protective streak for the singer had been awakened on that terrible night. I'm sure that in time, as things happened and the world moved on, a protective streak would be awakened for every member of the band, even Russel. And 2-D had changed as well, though his changes were subtler; it was in the way he talked about his band mates, and other things precious to him, and the way he looked towards the sky, like he was watching for it to open and show him the answers he had never fully received. I was sorry to leave him, and though I loathed causing him pain, it had to hurt to heal. They would not see me again, even if I were to pass right in front of them, their eyes wouldn't see me; they didn't need to see me anymore, I had done what 2-D had asked for, I had been his angel from Heaven and I had given him a friend to watch the sunset with him. I watched them go, angel and demon, singer and bassist, brothers, family, friends, and once their shapes had vanished into Kong I turned away, and trotted off, tail wagging slightly and tongue lolling out as always; there were other wishes that needed granting./

-Fin-

A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I never would have believed that this story would generate 80+ reviews. Some special shout outs too:

Kimmy-Sama: You were one of my first reviews, and you're still here, giving me inspiration every chapter I post. Styx and I are honored that you have a Styx plushie; give him an extra hug for me.

YomioriWolfdemon: Thanks for all the gifts, the best one being your friendship. Hope you like the ending, and I hope to chat with on AIM sometime soon!

Xiao-Darkcloud: Thanks so much for the many kind reviews you've left. I hope someday you get to try breaking plates to relieve stress; I've found it actually works. -Grin-

Jade: Thanks for the trophy and yes, I have considered being an author for many years. Thanks for the praise, it's a wonderful feeling knowing someone else likes your work.

Danakagome: You've left me some really nice reviews, and I thank you. It because of you (and others who always review) that this story got so far and got so good. Thanks again!

Don't worry, this won't be my last Gorillaz fic, but until I get College figured out and all, I can't say when I'm gonna get the next story up. My original vampire story, which I have been working on for the last three years can be found on my profile, if anyone cares to read that. Hugs to all of you, and I hope you all enjoyed this story!