I was suffering from severe writers block when I wrote this chapter so it's mainly just a filler. Ok, chapter four R&R :D

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2D, or Murdoc rather, dropped down to 2D's bed. He would've preferred it if the two had never found out that he had possessed 2D. Then again, he really didn't give the young guitarist near enough credit. Russle, yeah, he was easy to fool. Noodle? No, of course not.

"Muhdoc… Wot was tha tryin' ta accomplish?" 2D said from his reflection on his bedside lamp. Murdoc turned their head to the lamp. "I was tryin' ta 'ave a bit'o peace an quiet." He smacked the lamp off the bedside desk and turned over onto his side, only to find 2D's reflection staring back at him from a glass of stagnant water on another desk. "Ya know Muds ya coulda jus asked." Murdoc grabbed the glass and crushed it between his possessed spindly fingers, throwing the glass into a rubbish bin nearby.

"Stop breakin' me stuff Muds!" 2D yelled from one of his many monitors on his wall. Murdoc turned 2D's angry face on the three monitors above him that held a wide screen pong game. He stood up upon a chair and pressed his face as closely to the monitors as he could without being able to see their internal circuitry. "Ewe like ya stuff dullard?"

"Uh, yea…" 2D answered nervously. "Shut it then, an leave me alone." With that, Murdoc jumped down from the chair and kicked it over. He trudged back over to 2D's bed and collapsed upon it. "Why you so tired Muds?"

"2D, wot did I jus say?"

"Wot's the mattah? 'M not sick am I?"

"No, ewe ain't sick!" Murdoc rubbed 2D's face exasperated. "Do ewe 'ave any idea 'ow difficult a possession is face-ache? An if your bloody soul wasn't so… pure…" He spat the last word as if it were a curse. "… I wouldn't be 'is tired." From 2D's point of view, if he was really so tired that he actually explained what was wrong, he must've been at the stage where he would fall asleep driving. "Fen… Jus go ta sleep Muds." The singer tried to offer helpfully.

"Chih, not 'appenin'. You're awake, ewe'd jus take ovah." His eyelids were starting to droop however. "I'd sleep, I promise." 2D all but whined. Murdoc scrutinized the singer's image with one of his black eyes. "Fine, but ewe bettah." Murdoc allowed his eyes to close as he fell into a fitful sleep. 2D's eyes opened about three seconds later. Murdoc was right… 2D's eyes wandered up to the screens, there was his image, sleeping soundly. 2D contemplated getting up and eating something, but then his promise crossed his mind. "I did promise 'im." He mumbled, he sighed and dropped back to his bed. 2D scratched his bare chest as he thought about this whole mess. Murdoc was dead and had possessed him and was going to continue to possess him for a time unknown to anyone other than Murdoc himself. He gave a hopeless sigh, how desperately he wanted to touch the bassist, oh but how he knew it would never happen. "Muhdoc." He rolled over onto his side and drifted into sleep.

Over up in the monitors however, a single black eye was open and had been watching him. An only slightly active brain had been listening to Stuart's hopeless thoughts as well. A foul fangy grin twisted over the image, just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared and the image was once again asleep.

The two band mates were at a loss as to what to do. Noodle could perform one of those exorcisms and get the stinking bassist out of Stu that way, but hadn't Murdoc had said that he was here on business? Well, knowing him, it was probably just a way of saying he was there for sex and booze. "Don't think about it too hard Russle-san. Something tells me that even if we did exorcise Murdoc-san from 2D-kun's body, he still wouldn't leave. It's best, for right now anyway, to see how things work themselves out." Noodle said trying to comfort the obviously troubled drummer.

"I'm sorry baby girl but, you saw what Murdoc did with D's body and it's only his first day in him! Imagine what else he's going to do with him if he's going to be in there for an extended period of time! We have to do something about it now!" Noodle thought about what Russle had said, then replied, "Murdoc-san is a smart man Russle-san. He knows that we know he is in there, and well accepts that anything out of the ordinary will be blamed on him. Anything legal that he does wrong with 2D-kun's body too will cause both of them misery. While he may not care about 2D-kun's discomfort, he will certainly care about his own." Russle nodded, he had to agree with her logic, but something he didn't agree with was letting the dead bassist off scot free. "Can't we like… Do something? Since he is possessing D he also knows I can't beat him up. Can we find some way to punish him?" Noodle tapped her chin twice. "Hide all the beer…"

How long had it been since he had a beer? Three? Four days? He didn't know, all Murdoc knew is that he was blowing through 2D's cigarettes like hot cakes. It didn't help at all however, and unfortunately 2D's body was also suffering from mild symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. Murdoc ran a hand through 2D's not so greasy hair. 2D managed to find time to re-possess himself and take a shower every other day or so. Most of the time however, Murdoc beat his personality into submission and had control of his body.

2D sighed from his reflection upon the faucet in the bathroom. "S'why ya shouldn't drink sa much." Murdoc glared down at the image on the shiny metal. As much as he wanted to he couldn't bring strength enough to his muscles to break off the faucet. 2D's comments had been even more annoying since he came back to this world, why was that? Perhaps it was because he was forced to be with him for every hour and was forced to be him when in public. He felt like vomiting, and 2D's body gladly obliged.

"Go lay down Muds you're beginnin' ta worry me." Once again Murdoc glared at 2D, all he wanted was his body to be ok he was sure. He didn't really care if Murdoc was ok or not, all he cared about was himself. This was the screwed up kind of thinking his brain did when it was clouded with a potentially deadly withdrawal. "Shut yur mouth faggot. All I need's a beer."

"Muhdoc…" 2D whined, "Go ta ya Winnie or me bedroom and sleep, please, ya look awful." Murdoc ground 2D's teeth, or at least what he had left of them. "Shuh up." He said tiredly, turning from the sink, he left the water running and the bathroom. The singer's possessed body trudged out to the car park and eventually to the Winnebago, but not before it heaved once again all over the side of a wreaked car. Once inside, Murdoc collapsed on his bed, falling into a deep but certainly anything but restful sleep.

Once sure that he was inactive, 2D regained control and stood. He was light headed thanks to the lack of alcohol the bassist's brain was experiencing, but he himself was feeling none of the withdrawal symptoms that Murdoc was. Still, a beer wouldn't hurt too awful much for him, would it? If it would end the bassist's suffering, he could endure his pills being screwed up, right? Problem being though, getting beer from the guitarist and Russle.

2D poked his head cautiously into the kitchen, seeing that neither Russle nor Noodle were around, he walked in. He went straight for the cabinets, unsure of how long he would have alone in here. The cabinets were a common place for Russle to hide his booze, just behind Noodle's snacks. 2D pushed aside the bags of tamari and seaweed rice cakes and found… Well, nothing… He closed the cabinet and scratched his mostly empty head. Russle must've figured that Murdoc knew where his stash was. In all honesty, he didn't, the frequent raider had actually been none other than 2D getting Murdoc some spare booze when he was in a mood. He shrugged and sighed, oh well, he could at least tell Murdoc he tried.

Figuring that the bassist was going to be out for awhile, he headed down to the studio desk room. Upon entering the room, he made a beeline for the weeks deserted keyboard. He smiled happily at the instrument as he daintily pulled out the seat laying in front of it and sat down. Now, what to play?

He had a feeling it was time for something new. A new composition was always enjoyable. Its' subject? 2D frowned in thought. Well, usually his compositions were about the people he met, more specifically Murdoc. He still had the composition he wrote after he first remembered meeting Murdoc, it wasn't really all that flattering. But, how about something different, how about something about this very strange situation? He smiled dumbly as he settled on the idea and poised his hands over the keys.

As soon as his fingers connected with the board and the music began to flow, he heard Russle's thundering footsteps enter the room. His fingers stopped dead as he felt a twist of irritation in his gut. Ignoring the uncalled for annoyance, he turned and smiled to the drummer. "'Ey Russ."

"Hey D." The drummer said, happy that 2D was finally getting some freedom from the bassist. 2D turned back to his keyboard and poised his fingers once again, just before they reached the keys, "I ain't ever that opening before, are you writing a new song?" Russle asked. The twist of irritation 2D couldn't explain came again, but like before he ignored it.

"Ye, I 'aven't played in like a week… So, I fought… I could write somefing new before Muhdoc wakes up." 2D once again poised his fingers, or almost did anyway, Russle spoke again, "Why don't you fight him off D? It's your body." 2D thought for a moment, why didn't he? Was it because, as a personality, he was no match for Murdoc's bullheadedness? He sighed not knowing the answer to that question, but he knew why he put up with it anyway. "Cause, well, Muhdoc don't 'ave a body of 'is own an… Well, I fink it's jus' bein' nice ta let 'im use mine… So… Yeah…" He turned back to his keyboard with a frown.

"D, I know I've never asked you this before… and It's sort of nona my business but…" 2D looked over his shoulder at Russle, the twist was no longer a twist, but something heavy and burning. "Yea Russ?" Russle seemed to think one last time before asking. "What's your attraction to the guy D?" 2D's stomach lurched as the irritation flared from cinders to a roaring flame. "You're right Russ, it ain't nona your business. Sorry." Russle blinked, he'd never heard that from 2D before.

"How's it nona my business when…" He decided not to make things worse and shut his mouth mid-sentence. 2D, no longer feeling up to playing, turned off his keyboard and stood. As he strode past Russle, he stopped. "Actually, I don't know." He resumed walking and left the desk room deep in thought. What was it about Murdoc that was so intoxicating and irresistible? He kept walking.

Russle stood in the desk room still thinking. 2D loved Murdoc and he didn't even know why. Hell, if Russle had any clue. After a time he sighed. "Oh well, one mans' scum of the world is another's treasure." He shook his head and left the room.

Stuart lay on his bed, totally and utterly lost. This was the first time he had questioned his feelings for Murdoc in years. He looked around the room, all the reflective objects had either been broken or covered up in the past few days. Well, Murdoc was asleep anyway, and wouldn't be in the mood to talk even if he wasn't. He sighed, why did he need him? Why did he need to feel his body against him and moving in a perfect pounding rhythm? His thoughts drifted off. He entertained in his brain all the things he would love to do with Murdoc, all Murdoc would do to him and he to Murdoc. His jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight. He sighed once again as he let his imagination do as it pleased, his hand moved to the zipper and button of his jeans and undid them, his fingers… Stopped dead. What the bloody hell was that?! 2D leaped from his bed and landed rather ungracefully on the floor. Sitting on his bed was a writhing mass of green ectoplasm, Russle would know that. To 2D however, it just appeared to be a giant, glowing, snot ball enshrouded in a black aura.

"Muh-Muhdoc?" 2D stood zipping up his pants, examining the blob he was pretty sure was his late band mate. He leaned in to further examine it. Only to receive a poorly aimed punch to the face and yet another bleeding nose.

2D back stepped covering his nose protectively. He pulled his permanently stained kerchief from his back pocket and watched as the ectoplasm violently twisted and untwisted itself, growing various human appendages. It was, in 2D's opinion, very disgusting. By the end of it, there was Murdoc laying there, he seemed exhausted, sweaty, and more unkempt than usual. Murdoc lifted his arm tiredly from his eye and gazed at 2D. "You're disgustin'." Had he been awake during that?! 2D resisted the urge to start wringing his hands.

"'Ow can you jus' be…" Murdoc panted, why was he so out of breath? 2D's fretting was beginning to get worse, surely he had been awake, most definitely! Instead of wringing his hands, he fidgeted with his blue hair. "'M sorry Muds, I-I-I…" 2D began to explain himself.

"'Ow can ewe jus' be so goddamn pure!?" Once again, like before, the last word was spat as if it were the worse, foulest, most disgusting word in the English language. 2D blinked, this was about his soul? He breathed a sigh of relief smiling, but he sort of felt a twinge of disappointment. "Well… I can't really 'elp it Muds." 2D smiled a little bit, still fidgeting with his hair.

"Sure ewe can." He was still panting. 2D sat down on the bed. "Why ya so outta bref Muhdoc?"

"Cause it's alotta work gettin' outta tha small brain o'yours when 'm already tired."

"Oh…" The two sat there in silence for the better part of a half hour. Stu was beginning to feel awkward with Murdoc laying in his bed and he sitting less than two feet away on the very same bed.

"So, uh…" 2D turned to face Murdoc. How disappointed he must've been to find the bassist asleep. Now that he thought about it,… It was rather weird for a ghost to be asleep… They were dead after all… So therefore had no body to actually tire. It made sense when a ghost was possessing someone that they then would get tired, what with being attached to a body and all, but now… It just seemed out of place. 2D leaned close in to the bassist's face, looking for any signs that he might still actually be awake.

"Wot ewe want faggot?" Murdoc opened his red eye and glared at Stu through it. Yep he was awake alright. Stuart jumped back and awkwardly fell backwards off the bed. Murdoc sat up and stared at the graceless singer as he sprawled out on the floor. 2D made a whining noise as he righted himself and sat up with is back to Murdoc. As Murdoc watched the singer, he couldn't help but feel a bit of warmth in his still chest. The bassist's lip curled up into a foul sneer, and eventually the sneer transformed into a full fledged glare positively radiating hatred. 2D had no right to be making him feel these things after he was dead, none at all. He swung his legs from the bed to the floor. He stood and swiftly kicked Stu harshly across the back, sending the young singer to the floor, causing another piteous whine to emanate from him. Murdoc kicked him again, this time in the ribs. He repeatingly kicked the singer, spitting out curse words and derogatory names liberally as he went. After a time, he leaned down and picked the singer up by his hair, making sure to dig his unsightly nails into the young man's head. Thus, he began to beat the singer's face in, each punch harder than the last. After he had had his fill, he, with flourish, threw the blue haired man into the far wall of the room with inhuman strength. Breaking at least two of 2D's keyboards and another lamp. And, of course, he still wasn't tired.

2D curled up in a bloody abused ball where Murdoc had thrown him. What had he done to set the bassist off? He could feel hot tears streaming from his face, why hadn't he at least screamed for help? There would've been no escape… He reminded himself in his head. He looked at the blood that dripped from him to the floor. He didn't know why he wanted to ask, it would just be the same answer again, "Because I felt like it." But he asked anyway. He lifted his head feebly to look at the bassist, who was little more than a blurry green smudge on the other side of the room. "Wot…. Wot did I do?" He suppressed a sob, fearing the bassist would hit him again for the unpleasant noise.

Murdoc stood where he was, he ground his teeth with hate. His hating glare intensified at Stu's trembling voice. "Please… Wot did I do?" Stuart asked his attacker again, his voice quavering.

"Ewe sit 'ere…. Lookin' the way ewe do." He growled, Murdoc turned his back to the singer and sat down on the bed. "Git yaself cleaned up. I don't wanna be walkin' 'round with a face like tha."

2D slowly stood, using the wall as a support, he whispered, "Ya own fault…"

"Wot did ewe say?" Murdoc growled, looking over his shoulder at him. 2D could swear he could feel every blue hair on him, from his head to his toes, spike straight up at the demonic voice Murdoc had just used. "Nuh-Nuhfing…" 2D made his way warily across the room as fast as he could, his heart pumping fretfully as he felt Murdoc's burning glare on him all the way.

After 2D had left, and he heard the door to the car park close, he sighed and dropped back to Stu's bed. Why hadn't beating him made him feel any better? He still felt like killing something. It was only through his good judgment that he hadn't done just that to the poor man. It sickened him to see Stu the way he had been as he left. He felt like throwing up, and probably would have if ghosts had stomachs to fill. He growled and gripped the sheets harshly, his nails ripping them in various places. He had sorely hoped that his feelings would've died when he did. Sadly for 2D, this was not the case. Murdoc hated the way that boy could dictate his feelings. He could make him happy, sad, angry, the latter was often where his emotions ended up. He hated 2D because of how much he loved him.

He slacked his grip on the sheets. Although alcohol didn't affect him while dead, cigarettes did. From his prostrate position on 2D's bed, he wound his ectoplasmic hand into the bedside desk and removed a pack of fags from the drawer there. He pulled out one of 2D's cigarettes and tossed the carton back into the drawer. He then located the lighter by his foot and used it to light it. He took a long drag on the paper-wrapped tobacco, and with an equally long sigh, breathed out the smoke. He resolved to make this better… Somehow. Another drag, and another sigh, he waited for 2D to return.

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When I started this chapter I had serious writers block and about half way through writing it I was struck by a sliver of inspiration. It turned out better than I thought it would, but still it's still Pirelli's Elixir.