"What do you think?"
It was far too early for Russel to answer 2D's question yet, at least in a constructive way. He took his headphones off and looked into the middle distance.
If this was how being in a band was, how the recording process went, Noodle assigned it an A in fun, C in efficiency. She had learned that 2D's demos usually had potential that needed a level of amending, be it they were sometimes too long, or too short, or generally rough around the edges. Russel would then pick it apart, make him explain himself, keep the bits that worked and discard what didn't. Though occasionally, Noodle noticed him keep tracks that he initially made a funny face at. Those were often the ones 2D seemed most excited about, so she supposed that was the reason. She wasn't sure if 2D was noticing the difference between a real keep and a friend keep.
Murdoc was often away doing promotions and interviews, as well as what he informed her was "Band Brand Awareness" which, as far as she could tell, involved him venturing out into the night and bringing home women who were always swaying about. When Noodle had bumped into them one night, Murdoc explained that the nice lady was there to audition to play the flute, which made sense. The more instruments the better. When his schedule was free enough, and he listened to the tracks, many of them he threw out without much feedback, which made her sad. It seemed to make 2D sad too, though he would quickly follow it up with a grin in her direction, before they headed to the studio to try something else. That made it better.
Today's track, she was particularly excited about. She bounced between 2D on the sofa and Russel at his mixing desk, trying desperately to remain quiet as had been instructed during listening time. This one had to be a keeper. She loved it. 2D loved it. Russel will love it, which he would show by punching 2D softly in the fist and offering him a strange smelling cigarette. Even Murdoc will love it in his way, which involved smirking and rubbing his hands together which she was pretty sure connotated money.
"D… am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?"
Noodle couldn't hold it in any longer. She jumped to 2D and tugged at his shirt.
"Toochi! Kare ni totemo tanoshikatta to tsutaete kudasai!"
2D grinned and nodded at her.
"You like it, Russ? We like it!"
"Alright? O nīchan to watashi wa hontōni ī kyoku o tsukutta nda yo! Sick Track!"
Russ wasn't dropping it that easy. He swivelled his chair to face 2D.
"So baby girl's backing you up on that hook."
"Sure is!" He ruffled her hair, causing her to squeal in delight.
"The hook that goes, she, uh…"
"She turned my dad on."
"She turned my dad on!" Noodle yelled in repetition, looking up at 2D for affirmation. He tried to hide a snicker, but it was there, which was enough permission for her to break into a high pitched cackle.
"Yeah, that one." Russel rubbed at his head and sighed. "Run me by how that one came about."
"Oh! Well, uh, we were messing about with lyrics and Noods laid down that wicked grungey riff and I was just making stuff up. It went from 'we'll turn the light on' to 'she'll burn in battle' then I went 'she turned my dad on'-"
"She turned my dad on!"
"And it made me laugh, which made her laugh, and I kept saying it, and then she started saying it, which made me laugh again, which made her laugh again, which made—"
"I get it! I get it."
Noodle was confused. Russel didn't seem to find it as funny. Maybe he didn't feel included in the joke.
She ran to him and tried in vain to drag his chair closer to where 2D was sitting.
"Come on, baby." Russel reached down and picked her up, setting her down in his lap. "D, I really don't gotta explain this one to you, do I? Please tell me you understand why this might not fly."
"It's just tryna' be fun, Russ! She don't know what she's saying."
"Yeah, it's more the everyone else knowing I got an issue with. Not to mention, making a 9 year old say that when she doesn't know what it means is some kind of wrong too, you feel?"
2D looked down and twiddled his fingers, trapped in a corner by a barrage of fair points. His knee bobbed up and down frantically, which Noodle had learned was a reason to be worried.
"I guess it's not that funny." 2D mumbled, not looking up.
"Man, it's funny as hell, that's not the point." Russel clarified, keeping his tone neutral. "The point is we gotta be responsible for her, first and foremost. She's our guitarist second. A distant second. You didn't ask for that, none of us did. I get that. But who we have is who we have, and none of us can pretend we're anything different."
"Yeah." 2D whispered.
This was going very wrong. Noodle turned and thumped Russel feebly in the chest.
"Toranaide! Kare o kanashima senaide! Toochi! O nīchan, watashi ga mamoru yo!"
"Hey love."
She span round to see 2D smiling weakly at her, leaning forward with his hand outstretched.
"It's alright."
Noodle hopped off Russel and toddled to 2D, taking his hand with both of her own. She looked at him pleadingly, searching for the right combination of words to make everyone happy.
"You're right, Russ. She ain't just our guitarist. But she ain't our daughter neither. At some point, her real parents are gonna come back from being spies-"
"Her parents aren't spies, D."
"Well whatever they are, they're gonna come pick her up eventually. Might not be for another year, might be in 5 minutes. Before this album drops if they're smart and don't want her face all over the telly."
Russel sighed. The spy parents theory always grew stronger and louder when Murdoc wasn't there to back him up on how ridiculous it was.
"Point is, we don't know how long we're gonna have her, but it won't be forever. Until then… you're well good at all that responsible stuff, teaching her things, dunno how you do it. I just… I like making her laugh. I'm good at it. It makes me feel better. And I know if my parents were spies-"
"Jesus Christ." Russel whispered, quietly enough for Noodle to not hear.
"-and they dropped me off at some strangers place, the two things I wouldn't wanna be is scared and bored. I just wanna make sure she ain't either of them."
He looked down at Noodle, who looked on the verge of tears.
"Bored!" He made a grumpy face at her. "Scared!" He made an over-the-top scared face, bugging his eyes and chewing his fingernails. She pointed at him.
"Bad!"
"Bad, Noods. Exactly."
He looked back up to Russel, who's expression hadn't changed. 2D pulled his legs up onto the sofa, hugging them with his free hand.
"You are still right though. I don't mean to guilt you or nothing."
"I know, man. It's all good."
Noodle wasn't quite up to speed with who was winning. She idly swung 2D's arm back and forth impatiently. He joined in the motion, causing her to almost lose her balance a couple times.
Russel turned back to the mixing desk and put a hand to his forehead. He sighed deeply.
"And that's why Noodle should shout she turned my dad on." Russel clarified.
"She turned my dad on!" Noodle yelled instinctively, glad to be back on track and glad Russel was starting to understand the joke.
2D chuckled warmly at her. Under his arm, Russel successfully hid his smile.
"Well-" Russel started with an exhale, "I suppose this is a democracy, of sorts."
"Wait, really?"
"Let's face it, Muds will love it."
"So it can go in?!"
2D's excitement was radioactive. His gaze darted between Noodle and Russel, with Noodle getting more excited each time he looked at her.
It should've been hard to tell when Russel was rolling his eyes, but it never was.
"It can go in."
2D leaped to his feet and gave Noodle two thumbs up. "It's in!" He beamed at her.
Noodle screeched in joy and ran to Russel, jumping into the chair to hug him.
"Alright?! Alright alright alright?!"
"That's another thing, D." Russel said over Noodle's head as he hugged her. "Why has sister started thinking the English for yes is 'alright'?"
"Err…" 2D scratched his head. "Dunno on that one."
"Right. For another day I guess."
Noodle jumped off Russel and ran to 2D, arms outstretched.
"Up! Pick up, pick up, pick up!"
"I'm just saying you don't have to put me down all the time."
Noodle watched nervously as Murdoc and 2D butted heads, the less dented head appearing much more likely to come out on top. Russel had gone away to the States for a few days to meet with collaborators for the second album, and had given Noodle firm instructions not to get involved with any altercation that may arise between the two Brits, to instead let him know upon his return so he could work it out with them properly. The flaw in his otherwise reasonable instructions was that in order to report, Noodle had to witness these arguments. And they were remarkably difficult to not get involved in.
"And do what instead, eh? Lie to the press, say your times tables aren't that of a 7 year old, that tying your own shoes comes naturally to you, that your standards for shagging aren't lower than Joan bleeding Collins'?"
Noodle cringed. Her teenage years had given Murdoc an unspoken permission to say and act however he wanted again. She had anticipated that to an extent, in the form of more slapstick violence and the occasional swear. What she had anticipated less was the attacks with words, a learned and targeted assault on 2D's character.
"You already are lying!" 2D yelled with a painfully loud voice crack that surrendered any hope of his word being respected. "Bout how we're your little minions, acting all false pretentious."
"Acting all what, sorry?"
A worried sigh escaped Noodle. He was doing himself no favours.
"You heard me. All these interviews you give it all that that you're the leader but you do the least out of all of us."
"Is that so?" Murdoc turned to Noodle. "What do you make of all this?"
Noodle cleared her throat. "2D has a point. In a perfect world, we'd all contribute the same, and receive the same amount of credit." Ever since her English had returned, she'd been internally a little embarrassed to realise that how she'd been pronouncing 2D had gone down as a joke pet-name with the rest of the band. She was older now, and had vowed to be taken seriously from here on. "Well isn't that quite the utopia." Murdoc said dismissively, before turning calmly back to 2D. "You tell me then, Wordsworth. Who should lead this sorry lot? You?"
2D fidgeted. He clearly hadn't expected to get this far. His breathing started to shorten erratically. "Well, why not? I'm the front, the girls like me more than you, and half of the questions you get asked by them magazines are about me anyway."
Murdoc might've turned to violence then and there if he was content to let 2D feel like he'd had the last word. He'd told Noodle soon after they'd returned for the second album that 2D's ego was like a high-pitched lanky flea infestation. When it crops up, it's not enough to treat the source, too late for that. If you see it, it's been happening for weeks under your nose without you realising. Only option is full demolition and starting again at zero.
"The mags are curious as to whether you've swallowed any more bees lately, hardly call that the cry of a revolution," Murdoc derided, jabbing 2D in the chest, "And the girls? You mean the ones thick enough to be on the wrong end of a parasocial? You're welcome to them, chum."
"Is that why you always go around tryna take the ones I actually like?" 2D spat. He put a hand to his head in a way that could've been misconstrued as frustration, but the accompanying hazy look in his eyes showed his head was beginning to hurt.
"Oh sweet satan, this again," Murdoc rubbed his face with his hands. His default cool undermining was giving way to a real anger. "You had it coming with Rachel, all right? Shagging a bird with the same name as your mum is just bad practise, any knob knows that."
"Well sorry we can't all play it safe like you and not know who our mum is!"
Noodle gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.
2D seemed to be the last to hear his own words as his indignance abandoned him, along with most of his breath. He instinctively held surrendering hands out to Murdoc, despite their low track record with keeping him at bay in the past.
Murdoc growled quietly. 2D had accidentally found a way under his skin. His eyes lowered, penetrating 2D's soul. A look that 2D and Noodle knew preceded violence.
"Murdoc…" Noodle started, half trying to imitate Russel's calm firmness.
If anything, it only seemed to panic 2D and anger Murdoc further. He advanced on 2D and calmly took him by the collar. 2D's rapid breathing now had a squeak alongside it.
"You listen to me, right now…" Mudroc purred menacingly. Despite being a couple inches shorter than 2D, he towered over the younger man. "You're gonna get off easy this time, because this edge of yours, I actually like it, it's a good look, it'll sell. But if you ever, and I mean ever, even think you have what it takes to take over MY BAND—" the last two words were screamed in 2D's face, causing him to yelp in fear and his squeaks to become full on wails.
Noodle jumped to her feet, but Murdoc wasn't done. "I will tear every little… every strand of… you know, your panic attack is really starting to distract from my point!"
"I can't…can't…" 2D attempted.
Murdoc sighed angrily and released 2D, who immediately hunched over, hands on his knees for support.
"Head as well…" 2D continued, "Head's hurting too…"
"Panic attack and a migraine, eh? Seems like someone's trying to tell you something." Murdoc placed a lazy hand on 2D's slumped shoulder. "Breathe, alright? Look up at the ceiling and deep breaths, mate. Come on."
2D placed his hand on Murdoc's and pulled himself to an upright position. His eyes were deeply squinted shut. Noodle ran over to the living room blinds and quickly wound them closed.
"That's it…" Murdoc encouraged as 2D craned his face towards the ceiling, breathing still ragged and chest still heaving. "…you'll be alright now." he reassured.
Noodle finished closing the final blind and headed to the cupboard where the migraine pills were located. She looked back at the two. Murdoc's eyes were trained directly at 2D's now exposed, vulnerable throat.
It was too late for her to stop him. In a flash, Murdoc directed a fast and hard jab straight into 2D's adams apple.
"Enough!" Noodle screamed, and leaped to separate them.
A hoarse, broken scream ruptured from 2D and he backed away, clumsily, fearfully. He collapsed on the sofa behind him and held one hand out in mercy, the other on his throat, eyes completely closed, breathing simultaneously gasping in agony and anxious hyperventilations.
Noodle got between them and shoved Murdoc away, who was trying to eye 2D's throat, admiring his handiwork. Noodle gently pushed 2D, who was coughing and hacking profusely, into a sideways lying position on the sofa.
"I didn't want it to get to that!" He scolded at 2D over the sound of coughing. "A little harder and whoops, we need a new vocalist! But that's three reasons," he held up three fingers for punctuation "Three, count them if you got a spare half hour, reasons why you will never lead this band. You get too anxious when you actually have to talk! Every one of your migraines bugger us up for the rest of the day! And if your voice goes, that's it! No more band! Oh, I got four actually. It's false PRETENCES! You mongoloid!"
"You went way too far!" Noodle hissed at him.
"Oh, will you give it a rest with the mediator act, consider the alternative!" Murdoc yelled, gesturing at 2D, who was still writhing and moaning quietly. "Christ, I break my back carrying three liabilities to greatness, then I'm the prick just for saying as much? Sod you lot, I'll be at the pub."
With a series of grumblings, Murdoc stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Trembling slightly, Noodle shook two pills out of the bottle and handed them to 2D. "I'll get some water."
"Don't need it" 2D whispered, swallowing both the pills dry. "Got a cushion you can put over my face or something?"
"Not that bad is it?" Noodle said with a hopeful smile. 2D gave a low laugh that was one more of recognition than actual appreciation.
"For the light."
"Of course." She fetched a cushion form behind his back and placed it over his face. "I'm so sorry, 2D."
"Not your fault, love. Got him angry though, didn't I? That was pretty good."
"It was quite rude." Noodle didn't want to infer he deserved what he received for it, but it'd be hard to imagine anyone reacting rationally to what 2D said. She hoped a flat tone would sound neither encouraging nor scolding.
"Oh." He responded thoughtfully, with a little regret. "Guess it was."
"Not how you wanted it to end, I can imagine."
2D shrugged. The image of a man with a cushion for a head shrugging was a much needed lightness for Noodle.
"No other way it was gonna end. Least he knows now."
They fell silent for a while, Noodle feeling a little useless as she rubbed his shoulder. She kept going for a while after she believed he had passed out, his breathing having finally settled. Then a long sigh escaped him.
"I'm just not…" He began.
"Not what?"
"I'm not…strong. I'm just not that strong."
Noodle moved the cushion slightly to peer over it to look at him. He looked back with a frown, not enjoying the light.
"What does that mean?" She asked with a scoff.
He shrugged again. "Murdoc's strong. Russ is strong. You're strong. I'm not. Just how it is."
It was said with a long-established acceptance that Noodle wouldn't be able to talk him out of. Not without lying to him, or at least stretching the truth to a ludicrous degree. She knew enough to know that strength didn't have a universally consistent definition. But by the definition she was raised on, he was entirely correct. He wasn't. Noodle considered her words.
"Maybe you aren't very strong. But you work hard, and you sing nice, and you are nice, and you are…home. If you need strength, you come to me. If I need home, I'll come to you, ok? Equally useful."
He looked into the cushion, picking words of his own.
"Ok." Was all he said.
He didn't appear to find her words very useful or reassuring. Little more than an affirmation.
She put the cushion back over him as he shifted to a comfier lying position. It seemed now he really was about to sleep.
"Don't be stressed about Murdoc," Noodle made sure to say before he did. "Russel and I will save you. Always."
"Noodle! Russel! You've come to save me!"
Murdoc almost looked to be running at double speed as he sprinted down the beach, shoes squelching hard into any bits of detritus that hadn't yet dried up via the sun's gaze.
The collaborators had all fled, likely a reaction to the gunfire still raining down from overhead, though there was also a chance they feared repercussions at the cosmically enlarged hands of Russel, for contributing to an album that had lead to the near deaths of all four of them.
Murdoc held on to his captain's hat as he ran, perhaps worried his authority would be undermined without it.
"SAVE YOU?!" Russel boomed in a voice that likely was only meant as an annoyed snap, but with his newly monstrous voice box, sent shockwaves through the island, causing the planes overhead to veer off in fear. "WE'RE GONNA BEAT YOUR PSYCHO ASS INTO MUSH."
Murdoc held on even tighter as the wind of Russel's voice threatened to remove his hat. He skidded to a halt about 10 metres from Russel.
"Well your choices are, you can grab a ticket and wait in line, or help clear these tossers off and we settle it like honourable gents, eh?" He yelled up at him, surprisingly bravely considering the dozen or so ways he could be killed in the next 30 seconds.
Murdoc turned his attention to Noodle, who had yet to move since emerging onto the beach. He started in her direction.
"Noodle… our brave little toaster. I knew you were ok, the whole time I was—"
He was stopped by a Tommy gun held by Noodle, pointed in the direction of his chest.
Only the faintest of beats behind, two uzi's were pointed at Noodle's head by an oil-covered, hole-littered automaton that bore a familiar resemblance.
Noodle regarded it, though not intently enough to tilt her head away from Murdoc. It wore a look of crazed determination, an enforced loyalty in its eyes.
She considered switching her target to the cyborg. She wondered if it would lower its weapons if she did. It was that which convinced her to keep the gun trained on Murdoc.
"Easy, girl." He said calmly, hands up lazily, not reaching above his shoulder. "You can't really tell me you came all the way out here, just to do what was probably going to happen naturally anyway."
Nothing that was happening was natural. They weren't standing on natural, being attacked by natural, a gun wasn't being pointed at her by anything natural, and she was quite sure who she was pointing her own at wasn't natural either. It was all created to pollute, destroy, contaminate, ruin everything it touched.
It was everything she had been raised to be.
Noodle noticed her gun was starting lower. She lifted it to Murdoc with a jolt, trembling.
"WE'RE PUTTING AN END TO THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW." Russel took over, sensing that now was not the time for goading Noodle into doing anything rash.
"Capital idea, Russ! Glad to see the plant got bigger and not just the pot. This dump's rather outstayed its welcome, I must say. Now, I'd start by taking out the ponce with the pointy mask if I was you—"
Noodle aimed a fraction higher and fired, shooting the hat clean off of Murdoc's head. Sensing more gunfire as retaliation, Russel immediately went to shield her with his hand. He stopped as he and Noodle noticed that the cyborg instead reacted by dropping the guns to its side and rushing to him.
"It's alright, love!" Murdoc told it, holding a hand out to stop it. "She missed, it's alright. We can't all be you." He ran a hand through his hair, the greasiest that Noodle and Russel had ever seen it, which was quite the accomplishment.
He turned back to his former allies. "Fine, then. We're workshopping ideas. What do you suggest, big boy?"
"GETTING 2D AND YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE. IN THAT ORDER, IN CASE WE ONLY GOT TIME TO SAVE ONE."
"Where is he." Noodle stated, almost too quietly to distinguish over the smatters of gunfire on and around the island.
Murdoc put a hand to his heart, offended. "You really think I'd let that berk wander about while this is all going on? He's safe as houses."
Frighteningly fast, Russel shot out a hand and grabbed Murdoc, lifting and bringing him close so that Murdoc's squirming frame was just feet away from his eyes.
"WHERE?!" He bellowed, ignoring the guns now aimed at his head from the cyborg. The deep bass of his yell seemed to silence the sounds of war, for a moment.
Murdoc gasped, trying to wriggle into a position that allowed more air. Once he had succeeded, the first thing he did with the air was chuckle.
"You'll like this." He said. "You didn't happen to see a whale guarding a bit under the water? Three stories down or so?"
"GUARDING? THAT THING WAS GOING TO TOWN ON THE ISLAND. TAKING WHOLE CHUNKS OUTTA IT."
Murdoc's smile faded, replaced with an uncommon look of confusion.
"It wasn't supposed to do that. Whole chunks, you say? It had gotten in?"
"YEAH, WHY?"
The confusion transformed again, now a face of real concern. Noodle began to worry.
As she looked up at them, she noticed a plane high overhead approaching the island, too high up to accurately land any gunfire.
"Where is it Now?" Murdoc asked, his tone on the verge of a fearful demand. "Russ, where is it now?"
"TOSSED THAT SON OF A BITCH. PROBABLY A MILE ACROSS THE OCEAN BY NOW."
Murdoc's face fell entirely. His panic seemed to fade away, already sure there was no further use for it. Behind them, the plane was closing in.
"Bollocks." Was all he said.
"Murdoc?" Noodle called.
They both turned to her. Both her and her counterpart had let their guns fall, the cyborg seemingly seeing no further threat on Murdoc's life.
Russel was starting to worry, too. She could tell by his jaw clenching and unclenching, a small telltale sign made much bigger when you become literally much bigger.
As the plane behind them closed in further, something dropped out of the bottom of it.
A bomb, heading straight for Russel's back.
She and the cyborg lifted their guns to the threat, a programmed intuition.
She screamed with everything she had left, knowing full well it may be the last thing she ever said.
"GET DOWN!"
"Hey you. You're still up."
The smiles and laughs and hugs following the return of the final piece of the puzzle had died down for the night. Russel and Murdoc had gone to bed, both citing an enthralling but draining energy that always coursed when the four of them were together. It shouldn't have been surprising that this evening had been maybe the loudest, most bombastic yet, given their time apart. Noodle and 2D expressed similar sentiments of exhaustion, so when 2D remarked he would be turning in soon as well, Noodle made herself scarce, assuming he would want a little alone time to settle into the new space that would be their home until some unforeseen circumstance would take it from them.
That had been hours ago. And as Noodle entered the kitchen to grab some water, she found 2D sat, half slumped over the kitchen counter. He hadn't been to bed yet, that was clear. He sported only a towel around his waist along with amusingly fluffy hair to indicate he had showered, but the bone-dry skin indicated the shower was not recent. One empty beer bottle was next to him, and he was holding a nearly-empty second. Two labels had been peeled off and were left discarded on the counter also.
Not quite 100% present - which explained the lights literally not being on in the room - registering her greeting took a few seconds, but eventually he turned to notice her, setting his beer down to pat his towel, making sure no scandalous leg was on display.
"Oh, sorry. Yeah. What time is it?"
"You tell me." She said, nodding at the phone in his other hand. It cast a bright white light over his face, making him look even paler in comparison to the otherwise dark kitchen.
He gave a short laugh. "Love to, but I'm still figuring it out. You need all these details and sign ups and that, which I either don't have or forgotten the passwords."
There was a puzzlement for a second, before she noticed the phone's box, as well as several ripped and stretched bits of plastic that adorned the table also. It was a new phone.
"You can just transfer your stuff over from your old phone, you know." She said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. He was becoming so old.
"I haven't had a mobile since 2009, love."
"Oh." She tracked back through his retelling of what he'd been up to the last 7 years. The lack of access to any cellular device made sense, for the most part. "Not even in Guadalupe?" She asked, picking the era that felt the most harmless to bring up.
He shook his head. "Could never afford it. Just used a payphone. Which was alright really, kept me in the moment and all that." He finished the last of his beer and gestured at it to Noodle. "You want one?"
"Sure."
He smiled appreciatively and began to stand, holding firmly onto the towel.
"I'll grab it, I'm more decent." She grabbed two bottles from the fridge and popped them open, handing one to him. His smile widened.
"Your lingo's getting good."
"Everyone at the village said I sounded British."
"Ha! Brilliant."
He seemed truly proud of what had been a point of mockery during her time in Japan. But in that moment, she couldn't help but feel the same pride.
She wandered round to sit on the other side of the counter. His confused eyes on the phone took a break as he yawned dramatically, a tiny squeak punctuating the end.
"I'll help you set up all that tomorrow. You should get some sleep."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, what's on tomorrow?"
"Russel said he mentioned it on the phone to you. New shoot, first non-photoshopped one of the four of us in 10 years!"
Her excitement was not matched. He blew out a big puff of air.
"Blimey, straight away, huh?"
"Hey, I've been here over a month, man. I'm itching to get started."
"I know, sorry."
"No, it's not…"
She gave a small groan in frustration. Conflict or awkwardness was the very last thing she wanted. She studied him, his beer set down so his hand could rest comfortably under his chin, waiting with minor interest for her to finish her sentence.
It was probably nothing. There was a good chance it was just exhaustion, not to mention an overwhelmed feeling of seeing three people you were very close to but were half-convinced you were never going to see again. Russel had warned Noodle of that beforehand, telling her to keep the pouncing and general dolling to a minimum, and he was more correct than she gave him credit for. At times he had been as goofy and cheery as she remembered, misunderstanding others' stories and going on bizarre tangents during his own. But there were moments of quiet too, deliberate quiet, where he appeared relieved to not be the subject of the conversation, sitting back as if to stay only within peripheral visions, and occasionally wandering off entirely, returning 10 minutes later and sitting back down nonchalantly. The one time she had tried to see where he'd gone to, he'd almost collided with her at the doorway to the living room, blowing her cover entirely and causing her to splutter that she needed the loo.
It was probably nothing. But if Noodle didn't check, she'd drive herself crazy wondering otherwise.
"D… do you actually want to be here?" She asked, forcing herself to not be afraid of the answer.
She'd been open to the idea of him not wanting to return. Just knowing he was alive had brought enough joy, it would be selfish to demand anything more when that person was likely in a much better place. But upon hearing the news he was coming back a week or so prior, her giddiness had been indomitable, planning movie and game nights, bedroom decor, local hotspots for both lunch and nightlife. The last one in particular had been an especially exciting prospect. She was finally a grown-up, with grown-up friends, and wanted to find out to what the truth was to the rumours, ramblings and arguments she had heard on so many mornings.
That all felt a bit presumptuous now as they sat in the dark together.
His initial response was a frown. That was a positive sign.
"Yeah, I think so." He said.
Noodle wanted desperately to unpack the 'think', but sensed he had more, so instead she nodded, taking a swig of beer to distract her urge to push.
"It's just… I didn't know what to expect. Think that's my fault. It's just so…"
"Different?"
He shook his head. "The same. Like these last 10 years never happened. Now everything's all normal, straight back into photoshoots and album chat and make sure you got a decent phone now, and everyone's happy and it's great, honest it is, but it's almost like we're putting it on a bit. I dunno. It makes me feel a bit crazy. But I'm probably just behind, bet you and Russ were like this when you got back too."
He was right to an extent. Part of accepting this new normal meant finding a way of moving on from the events of the last decade, even if forgiveness or understanding didn't quite fit in the equation as of yet. The initial awkwardness wore off quickly enough for Noodle, though she was helped by having it replaced with anticipation very early on. It took Russel 3 days to speak to Murdoc, ignoring banter, small talk, insults and explanations, before Murdoc found the one thing Russel would be willing to discuss; album ideas. Things gradually got less hostile from there, though 2D's absence remained painfully noticeable. Without a need to reword or reiterate information, questions were answered and conversations were ended in quick, uninteresting fashion. Russel and Noodle re-bonded quickly over new recipes learned and new artists discovered, but he had never been one to unload personal trauma or struggles onto her, and she in turn had little interest in being the heavier, more burdensome side of a one-sided sharing group, which meant only revealing the minimum amount he insisted upon.
Through a lack of tapping, the phone screen had turned off while 2D had been talking, leaving them in complete darkness. He must've set the phone down, as now he was alternating between sipping at the beer and fiddling with the label.
"Can we have the light on?" She asked, wary for a moment that he would think she was ignoring him. His silhouette nodded and he stood to wander to the wall and flick the overhead lamp on.
A long-dormant protective instinct rushed over her as she noticed the details of his torso for the first time. He had never been free of scars and scrapes, at least as long as she'd known him. A distinct one near the kidney had always piqued her fascination, particularly considering his lack of memory as to how it happened. Those scars had sank and partially faded into his skin, like stains that could never quite wash out, no matter how many times you tried. Overlaying them was new scars, or rather, new to her. Small ones that littered his back and chest, with red marks at the top of his arms that appeared to be deep burn scars. Some had the bright irritability of being more recent, which provided a modicum of reassurance that not all of them were Murdoc's doing. Others sat with a solemn acceptance, a portfolio of reminders of the lowest points in his life.
Noodle subconsciously felt at her eye. There's still time for most of those scars to fade, she thought. Hoped. The scar of her own that served as a similar receipt for her own lowest point, was all but healed to the naked eye, something she had, at one point, accepted was never going to happen. It remained in secret, however, when she felt a certain spot under her eye with her hand, or whenever her face tensed up, or whenever she smiled a little too genuinely.
"You ok?" 2D asked. He had sat back down a while ago.
She shook herself from her thoughts and put on a smile. "Mhmm."
"It's ok if you ain't. You been through it the worst. I thought about you a lot, for a long time. Mostly about how shit it was that you were dead," he paused, allowing her to snort out a chuckle, "but when I got bored of that, I thought about the bloke that sent you to us. Jacuzzi, or whatever his name was. I thought about how we let him down, that we ended up putting you through the worst shit a kid could ever go through, probably traumatised you twenty times over, and then killed you for a music video. A video we still released. Bet he felt like a right knob when he saw that."
His hand no longer sufficient at holding his head, he tucked both arms under his chin as he rested his head on the counter, exhaling sharply through his nose.
"And you still came back."
Noodle once again used taking a drink as an excuse to gather her thoughts. He seemed less interested in diagnosing or fixing, and was more simply confused. It made sharing easier.
"I've started over more times than I would've preferred. When I washed up in Japan, I was convinced my life was going to consist of 10 year chapters where I ended up doing something different every time. It felt so obvious, like oh, ok, until 10 I was a soldier, until 20 a rock star, until 30 a pearl diver, who knows after that? It made it easy, for a while. Easy to move on. Easy to not miss."
2D nodded attentively. Noodle managed to notice a sadness flash across his face before he forcibly reset it to neutral.
"Then things started to get weird," she continued "dangerous and scary kinds of weird. But a familiar weird too. It made me remember, made me miss. But I couldn't do anything about it. I was so sure you and Russel were dead. I figured Murdoc survived, he always will. But I was still working out if he was dead to me."
2D smiled, either knowingly or simply understandably. He seemed to be enjoying not having to think about what to say. She was talking to herself in a way, a safe way, like one would to a diary or a stuffed toy.
"When things got really bad, I needed to get out, way way out. Someone very special that I had met over there used to say, furusato wa tōki ni arite omofu mono soshite kanashiku uta fumo no, which kind of means home is a more powerful force when it's far away. It was too dangerous to go back to her, so it was either start over again, again, or take a chance with the next closest thing to home, which was seeing if I could mail myself to that fool." She gestured upstairs.
"Sounds like you were moving on really well, sorry it was taken away."
Noodle shrugged. "Those were the cliff notes, a lot went down and it was kind of my fault."
She cringed a little, realising what an unintentionally obvious invitation it was for him to ask further questions. Thankfully, he took a drink instead, having figured out a similar strategy of drinking in place of speaking.
"What about you?" She proceeded, "Why did you come back? And don't say it was for me."
2D gave a sad-puppy dog look that she couldn't help but grin at.
"Kinda was, kinda wasn't. I just thought about what 2D would do."
She cocked her head. He wasn't one for speaking in third person.
"Don't you always think that?"
"When I'm with you lot, yeah. Then Gorillaz ended and it just felt a bit daft being the singing bloke for a band that weren't there. That's why I stayed in Guadalupe. Crikey, that's why I tried to get a law degree. They feel right for a bit, then it all gets a bit confusing. Got worse when Muds told me you were alright. Got all muddled up. My bracelet making skills went down the crapper."
He gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he took a big drink. Noodle joined him, eyeing him with concern.
"He used to tell me that when we were on the island, but I didn't believe him. When I heard Jamie got video footage of you, I didn't believe it. Sounds self-centred, but I thought it was all a big trick on me, to motivate me or something. There was just something about that time Murdoc told me in jail, like, he had absolutely no reason to lie, which made it click. It was so brilliant to know you were alive, especially that you were off doing your own thing. Felt like that was your best bet at being safe. Made me feel safer too, weirdly. But mostly I felt like a dick. For giving up on ya. I guess that was the reason I didn't try and get in touch. Well, that and I didn't know where you were. Well, that and that, and I was happy we were all moving on, and didn't wanna ruin it. You never needed any of us and I was glad you was finding that out. Muds telling me everyone was back and wanted to do another album kinda messed with that thinking, heh."
He flicked away a bit of label that was stuck to his finger. It took a few tries and he seemed to enjoy the distraction.
"Turns out," He said with discomfort, before burping, "what 2D would do is a lot easier to work out than what Stuart would do."
Noodle's heart sank. She thought of 2D's name, his identity, as being as authentic as her own, a realisation of the person that they had always been deep down.
"I didn't know they were that different." She whispered.
He shrugged with one shoulder and looked down into his bottle. "Sorry. This was supposed to be a big great day and I've killed the vibe a bit, now."
A slight impatience bubbled up alongside the sadness, which she pushed down instinctively. "That's the fourth time you've apologised unnecessarily."
He opened his mouth, likely to make it a fifth, but closed it again in a moment of realisation.
She reached out and took his hand.
"Would Stuart not have come back?" She asked softly, her quiet tone helping her voice remain steady.
He looked at her hand in his own, hiding his face from her inadvertently. His breathing quietened, until the kitchen was deathly silent.
"It's ok." She encouraged, stroking his hand with her thumb. "I'd understand. How couldn't I?"
He looked up. There was a smile, small and a little sad, but warm.
"2D came back to make a killer album. Stuart came back to catch up with his best friend."
Noodle's heart rose again as she gripped his hand tight. When that proved insufficient, she leaned down and pressed it to her cheek.
"Two very good reasons." She sang.
The dim, tungsten light above the counter was beginning to be overshadowed by the first peekings of the sunrise. They watched it for a while, 2D's hand still being the slight cushion between Noodle's head and the counter.
"You know what? I am excited!"
"You are?!" Noodle cried, popping her head back up, thrilled by his sudden enthusiasm.
"Yeah! Duck to water I reckon, won't be long before I got the mojo back."
"Definitely! Before too long you'll be talk of all the magazines again—"
"Pulling all-nighters at industry parties—"
"Bringing home girls younger than me—"
That one felt weird to say. It felt weird to hear, too, judging by his face, one eye narrowed at her.
"Gosh, I suppose so." He mumbled, cocking his head.
She laughed at his solemnly resigned tone, like he had no choice in the matter. He gave the slightest knowing smirk at her reaction.
"Now I expect you to be on the pull and all, Noods. Don't let the side down, not now you're old enough!"
"Pffft. Not sure it's my speed, but we'll see. I dated for a bit in Japan, in the early days when it was all settled."
2D's entire body lifted as he gave the biggest, dumbest open-mouthed smile she had seen in over a decade. It was his turn to reach across the table, grabbing her face and pinching her cheeks in a lovingly irritating way.
"You little player, good on ya! On the tear were you? Left a bunch of broken hearts over there?"
Cackling, she swatted away his hands. "You are getting zero details, and that's a promise! And not a word to Murdoc, or you'll wish you were still in the whale!"
His smile faltered and demoted itself to a more neutral, closed-mouth one, and gave the small acknowledgment chuckle she remembered from when he tried to downplay his migraines to her. She cleared her throat and made a red-underlined mental note to remember the lines that were best to avoid crossing.
"I'm gonna turn in. Really this time." 2D said, not coldly, but with none of the joy that had been overflowing just moments earlier. He felt for a good grip on the towel and stood, walking daintily across the cold kitchen floor to the door.
"I'm gonna watch to make sure you do."
"Perv." "Shut up. I don't trust you to not get distracted."
He turned to her in the doorway and opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and gave a small scoff. As if he couldn't believe what he was about to say.
"See you tomorrow."
She beamed. It was the best thing to hear.
"And the day after." She echoed.
"But not the day after that probably, I'm staying at mum and dad's. But the day after that!"
"Wait till they hear what you've been up to. What will they think?"
"They think I'm some kind of stupid lil doormat!"
2D came hot into the green room, ripping off his stylish, if slightly ill-fitting, leather jacket and hurling it to the floor in a rage. With Murdoc gone, 2D had taken up the bulk of the print and video interviews, and while generally handling it ok, questions of a certain topic were beginning to frustrate him. Partly because those questions took attention away from him, and he had learned that part of putting a best foot forward as a band leader meant swatting away uncomfortable questions with a cheeky insult towards both the question and the questioneer, finishing by circling it back to promote yourself and your vision. He had yet to quite get the hang of it. The other, bigger reason for the frustration was that the questions were about the very same man who had inadvertently taught him this leadership strategy.
"Half of all these bloody questions are about Murdoc! Do I think he's innocent, when's he coming back, have I heard he said this and that. He's not even here and he's all that anyone flipping cares about!"
Noodle had been watching his tension build for a couple of months. She had wanted, believed, begged internally, for this change in ranking to be good for him. Russel had too. Not just for his well-being, but sonically too. 2D's ideas for beats and melodies ranged from the laughably off-kilter to the hauntingly beautiful, and he never seemed to know the difference until they were presented to the rest of the band. Murdoc's feedback was always quick and curt, which on one hand 2D seemed to appreciate. If he didn't like it, 2D was a useless coattail rider. If he did like it, hey, there might be hope for you yet, kid, now let's go turn this into something listenable. There was less conversation about what specifically wasn't working and what can be done instead, and with Murdoc's sprawling tastes on what belonged on a Gorillaz album, it was almost impossible to predict what would resonate and what wouldn't.
More conversation, more negotiation, could theoretically lead to a more consistent, coherent album that they could all recognise themselves on. And while it was initially a challenge convincing 2D to stay and talk when he presented something Noodle wasn't jelling with, he got used to it and recording sessions felt more productive than maybe they ever had before.
That was months ago. It felt like longer.
Sitting next to her, Ace clicked his tongue.
"These media goons are out to tear you down, it's like they get off on it. The second they smell weakness, BAM! They're on you like pirhannas."
Ace had initially been a positive influence on 2D. In 2D's opinion, he still was.
Noodle had clocked immediately that Ace's ability to choose words that benefitted himself in a way that didn't seem self-gratifying was impressive. None of the four permanent members had ever been able to quite master it. Ace was involved with every creative conversation and hung around for every interview, despite almost never being asked to participate. He contributed opinions, often chaotic or mischievous ones, but always remained aloof enough in a way that suggested that it made no difference to him whether he was listened to or not.
"D, why don't you sit out the interviews for the rest of the day?" She offered, not a fan of Ace's encouragement of a 'world vs 2D' narrative. "I'll take the next couple, and by that point Russ will be here. If you're feeling better, maybe all of us can take the rest together? So if you get a question that's frustrating, or where it feels like they're messing with you, Russel and I can shut that shit down like that." She punctuated the last word with a click of her fingers, smiling.
2D ran a hand through his hair, her attempt at calming him having the opposite effect. "Noods, I'm trying to show I can handle this sort of stuff. Now how's that gonna happen if I'm just hiding behind you lot the whole time?"
Noodle scoffed, more than a little offended at his summation that equal-footing meant hiding.
"Well it can't be any worse than stammering through interviews and throwing tantrums." She threw back at him.
2D scowled at her, the long-ish distance between them making his face hard to distinguish. She matched his stare, challenging him to do something. She could almost hear a low growl coming from under his nose.
"Hey hey hey, easy you two!" Ace popped up from the sofa and stood between them, hands out for dramatic effect. "We're all on the same team here." He turned to 2D, blocking most of him from Noodle's field of vision. "Tell you what Blue, next time you get that feeling they're making you out to be a mug…"
She saw 2D's eyes look down as Ace took something out of his jacket. She heard a flicking sound that confirmed it was likely a switchblade.
"…let 'em know they're misinformed." Ace finished cooly.
"Stab them." 2D murmured, believing that he was following along perfectly.
"I'm sorry, fucking what?" Noodle called, standing up.
Ace turned and backed away a couple of steps so the trio formed a triangle. He waggled the switchblade playfully in Noodle's direction. "Metaphorically, doll. Flip a table, throw water in the guy's face, rip off your mic and storm out, remind them that you're 2 freakin' D, and you worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone else take your spotlight."
His words seemed to literally inflate 2D, as he stood tall and determined, nodding long after Ace had finished.
Noodle sighed. Ace had played his hand well, and now she would have to be the bad guy. She had long believed that there was a genuine space in the band for Mudoc's temper, his contempt for mainstream music and all who reported on it, even his tendency to use others for his own gain, to a certain extent. And if he only found a way to use them in a manner that built up his bandmates, rather than tear them down, all four of them would've been better off.
Now, in Ace, they essentially had that. Murdoc shot down and subdued almost every aspect of 2D, both the good, which he mostly was, but also the bad. Ace encouraged every aspect. And Noodle couldn't tell if the rapidly mutating bad side was mostly Ace's doing, or 2D's.
2D was staring incredulously at her. He had noticed the sigh.
"You can't go flipping tables and cursing interviewers out every single time you get a question you don't like." She reasoned.
2D cocked his head from side to side, debating in his head whether or not, in fact, he could.
"She got a point." He said to Ace. Noodle's teeth began to grind and it was now her turn to growl. If he was trying to cause her rational, empathetic side to fall away, pretending like she wasn't even in the room was a damn good way to get there. "Do you reckon if I did it once, that would scare them into realising I shouldn't be mucked about with?"
Ace grinned. "I like that. Give them one chance to cut it out, show them the line and what happens when they cross it. They'll learn."
"No they won't!" Noodle almost laughed, "They're desperate for reactions, for clips! After the first time, all they'll be trying to do is get you to act out again! Why do you think Murdoc got asked so many questions about you?"
2D opened his mouth to retort, then stopped, mouth hanging open. His face gave a deep, pained frown.
"I…" He started, but realised he wasn't done thinking. Noodle's adrenaline began to waver. 2D looked down, his telltale sign of tracking memories. Sadly satisfied, he returned to Noodle, "that's the only reason they asked about me?" he croaked.
Noodle sighed again and shrugged, "I think that was a part of it, yeah."
She hadn't meant to. Part of her assumed he'd known the whole time. It would be absurd to base any sort of self-belief on what magazines and websites wrote about you. But maybe, to him, in his already absurd world of being abused and demeaned by his bandmate and mentor, such snippets were his strongest hold on the idea that he was important. Which wasn't to say Noodle and Russel didn't inform him of that plenty. They certainly did. But just as often, he would half-jokingly inform them that they 'didn't count', that it was nothing more than a mum telling her son he looked handsome on prom night. Maybe it was another reason he respected Ace's word so highly.
"They never actually cared." 2D whispered, almost to himself.
"I didn't say that. But they were never on your side, nor Murdoc's. Only their own."
"That's what I've been saying!" Ace cheered, glad they were all in agreement.
His joy was replaced by a heavy silence. Eager to not be a part of it, Ace cleared his throat and put a hand on 2D's shoulder.
"Hey bro, let me get us all some water, cool off. This is some heavy shit, I can see that. But you bounce from this, right? Come on, champ."
2D looked at Ace's point of contact. Then at Ace's unfiltered grin.
"Course. Course I'll bounce."
"That's what I like to hear, all right!" Ace jogged for the door. "I'll be right back, sparkling with lime for you Nood, I remember!"
Ace shut the door quickly behind him.
2D reached for a chair behind him and sat down, looking deeply through the floor.
"You listen to Ace a lot." Noodle said, not cooled off enough to sit down quite yet.
"He's nice to me." 2D muttered curtly.
"I'm nice to you. Russel's nice to you."
"His nice is better." "Ok." She chuckled bitterly. She'd only screamed at him one time in their entire friendship, and had hated herself for it. She had promised herself then one of two things: to either never scream at him again, or not hate herself if she did. One of those promises was bending dangerously.
"You and Russ want the best version of me. Whatever that is. Like therapists, wanting me to change. Ace just likes me, all of it. There's no part of me he hates."
"I don't hate any of you."
"Do you even know when you're lying? Cuz you do it, like, loads. Just like how you dance around saying something, acting like I'm doing something wrong, until I gotta say it for you, then oh no no, you turn around acting like you weren't even thinking it. You think I'm too thick to notice."
Noodle was flabbergasted.
"Nobody ever thinks I fuckin' notice anything."
The venom in his curse would've been frightening if Noodle wasn't so furious. She stared daggers into his hair, his eyes still glued to the floor.
"My knee is going right into your face if you don't look at me right fucking now."
2D sprang into sitting bolt upright and looked at her, eyes cold. He smirked.
"Know why I did that? Because I don't like getting hit. Well remembered."
"You want truth, want me to tell you straight? You're being a dick. I don't like you like this."
"What if this was the real me? What if it had been the whole time?"
"I wouldn't prefer it." She said truthfully.
"Would you leave?" The emphasis on 'you' implied a silent 'as well' at the end of the sentence.
"I mean, why wouldn't you? We got all the tracks, you don't have to stay for this. Not like you haven't left before. Or will it not have the same effect cuz I'd actually know you're leaving this time?"
It was meant to get a rise. There was no other reason for it. A test, maybe. One that Noodle was too far gone from trying to pass.
As hard as she could muster, her palm swung low and connected with his cheek. The impact sent a sharp sting through her hand and up her wrist, as if her body itself was shocked by the motion. His face followed the direction of the slap, focusing on the waste paper basket in the corner.
He let out a small quiet gasp and hunched over slightly. Noodle half expected him to cower and recoil into himself, as she had seen many times over.
Instead, he sprang to his feet and closed the already small gap between them.
"Who do you actually think I am? Right now, when you look at me. Do you know?"
"Maybe I don't." Noodle said quietly. His eyes revealed a blind level of anger that she found herself only able to counter with a disappointed sadness.
"Good, well, I don't either. But we got the facts haven't we, so let's go over them and work it out. I've spent 30 years not being able to go a week without a migraine. I've spent 20 years being tormented by the guy I idolise most in the world. A bloody teenager had to promise me she'd protect me from him, and like a bloody coward, I trusted her to do it and felt betrayed when she tried to leave! I'm famous for these eyes and this hair and this stupid tooth that ain't there, none of which was my choice. Every time I try and show I'm not stupid, every time I try and be a good leader or, or independent, I prove doubley that I am stupid, that I'm a shit leader, that I can't be independent! When I hate myself most is when anyone actually likes me, and when I'm who I wanna be, people don't like it. I still need Russ to open chutney jars for me! I miss Murdoc! The guy that's made the worst things in my life happen to me! And my best friend was a 10 year old girl who barely understood a word I was saying, and I'm pretty sure only liked me because it was funny when I got hit. So no, I don't know who that wanker is, but I'm pretty bleeding sure he isn't anyone worthy of love or respect!"
His eyes punctuated the rant with one final look of anger, of pain, before screwing shut, his face tensing. He was expecting another smack. Noodle studied his trembling face, his breathing adopting a deliberate rhythm to avoid hyperventilation. A rhythm he was certain he would never be able to apply in the moment. A rhythm she helped teach him.
"Can I go now?" She asked flatly.
With a shuddered exhale, he opened his eyes. The door to the green room seemed so different to the one Ace had left through just a few moments earlier.
The silence felt like an eternity. 2D's eyes darted back and forth around the room, attempting to find inspiration, words that would convince her to stay that weren't just further admissions of misjudgement and stupidity. Admitting fault had served him well in the past, saving him from numerous bandmate beatdowns, offended ex-lovers and underwhelming releases. But this felt bigger than all those combined.
He gave up, and nodded.
"Ok. I'll go. I was raised to be nothing more than a mindless child-soldier. I was meant to be a weapon, and I failed. Then I was meant to be killed, and I failed at that too. The thing that people know me best for wasn't my choice, it was a decoy interest meant to blend me in to society. I played guitar before I knew what music was, and certainly before I knew what a band was. I've never had parents, or any blood-related family, or even a real name. I don't know how to have a close connection with anyone outside of music. The only thing I think I can do is try and make the world better for people, and barely a day goes by where I don't think I fail at that at least a little bit. I resent the people that have been kindest to me. I resent Murdoc for caring so little about what the world thinks of him. I resent Russel for having so much patience and positivity when things feel so hopeless. I resent you for just how goddamn effortlessly lovable you are. I try and be all of that, at once, and I just don't think I'll ever be able to do it. And my best friend was a grown-ass man with a permanent concussion, who never understood a word I was saying, and made every bad thing that happened to him look like a big joke so I wouldn't get scared."
2D chewed at his lip, unsure of what to say.
"There," Noodle finished, "Now there's two people that don't deserve love or respect."
She saw his tension, his anger, fall away, shrinking him by a couple inches. He opened and close his mouth as he tried to speak, sometimes little croaks accompanying them. Eyes were beginning to well, he had to act fast.
"Can I hug?" He managed to string together, arms held out childishly.
Noodle laughed and wiped her eye. "If I remember correctly."
They came together softly, his frame skinny enough for Noodle to wrap her arms entirely around him. He could do the same, covering both her shoulders with one arm while his other hand rested in her hair. The closeness combined with not seeing each others faces gave full permission for tears to fall, both of them sniffing and chuckling on the occasions that their sniffs synchronised.
"It's ok to miss Murdoc. I miss him too." She mumbled into him.
"Please don't leave as well. Please." He whispered.
"You sweet, silly man. Of course I won't."
He sighed and relaxed further into the hug, as she likewise adjusted for comfort. Both not planning on releasing anytime soon, they began to sway.
"I think leading this band is a curse." He mused.
"All this talk about leading, what's it for? Why do we need a leader? What if we each lead different bits, that seems better to me. You lead the music, Russel lead the marketing, I'll lead the PR. How does that sound?"
"What would Ace lead?"
She huffed. "Getting water." He laughed in a way she hadn't heard in a very long time. "You sure? He's been ages." He said, and then they laughed together.
"I think we should cancel the other interviews for today." 2D hummed when the silence had re-settled. "Russ is gonna be knackered and we're all behind on Bake Off."
Squeezing hard, she tilted back, lifting him a few inches off the ground and shaking him.
"Is that good?" He asked, slightly startled, once he'd been returned to the ground.
"I think that's so smart." She grinned into his chest.
"Yeah?"
"You have a lot of smart ideas. What a great way to show you're not in the mood for Murdoc questions! Don't think you could be on camera right now anyway," She pulled away partially to look at him, "Your cheek looks ridiculous."
"It's really warm." "I'm not surprised!"
2D pulled her in for one more hug that had a finality about it.
"Ok, I'll tell Mark we're done for the day." He sighed contentedly, "You mind finding wherever Ace has gone off to?"
"Love it." Noodle murmured.
2D freed himself and started for the door.
"Toochi?"
He stopped, hand on the handle.
"You deserve love and respect." She said to his back, "And I think you have that from a lot of people. I'm sorry if you don't see it. But if I'm wrong…well, you have mine, at least. Always."
He turned. He wore a sad smile which, either through organic transformation or a realisation of its sadness, changed into a dopey grin.
"And you got mine, love. Even when they're carting out my 90 year old head in a jar to do Clint Eastwood." "Even when they gotta play the guitar track over the speakers after my fingers get too arthritic to play."
"We got each other's."
"Forever."
At some point she'd lost him. She didn't remember letting go.
The spirits had long disappeared, heading in the opposite direction. Along with them, the screams had subsided, and all that was left was a loud, limitless hum.
She tried to search for him, but there was nowhere to look. There was no direction.
There was a voice. Indistinguishable, but there. It sounded angry.
Unintentionally, she was moving in its direction. It began to clear. Distinct tones and inflections began to make themselves known.
The voice was unappealing. It was Murdoc's.
"Christ alive, I think she's waking up!"
