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Most of the time, Murdoc was glad 2D was no longer comatose. Most of the time. There were things he missed about it. Always knowing where 2D was, that was good. 2D not being able to leave.
He leaned back against the doorframe, eyeing 2D from across the room.
2D, with just a few lucky milligrams standing between him and an overdose that would put him in hospital. He was still conscious, but he very well could not have been, and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference for all he was doing.
There was, without question, something a little off somewhere along the line, because Murdoc liked watching him when he was like this. It made him feel responsible, a caretaker. Only now 2D was awake, it wasn’t too much pressure, and if 2D ever did anything stupid, that would be on him, not on Murdoc. It was a nice in-between. He knew 2D couldn’t really survive without him but he didn’t have to take responsibility for any of 2D’s mistakes.
Or he’d thought 2D couldn’t survive without him. Coming back together after years apart didn’t do a lot to prove that theory, nor did the way 2D went off on his own now, sometimes for days at a time.
He watched 2D, and imagined that for anyone else it’d be like watching paint dry. He wasn’t moving, he was barely breathing. Just utterly and completely wrapped up in a thick, heavy blanket of codeine.
Murdoc crossed the room, stepping over piles of dirty laundry and DVDs. He looked down at 2D for a moment, and then patted the side of his face. “Hey, sunshine. Can you count to five?”
Seconds later, delayed, 2D’s brow furrowed, and his jaw started working silently. His voice squeaked in his throat after a moment, and, at long last, he tried, “One. Um, two.” Each word took longer than it should, drawn out, and the pause between them could have been a century. The rest of his body lay perfectly still in bed, like he was sleeping.
Murdoc nodded as 2D sounded out ‘three,’ letting the lad know he was listening, if 2D was even paying attention. Probably not. He located the pair of handcuffs hanging off 2D’s bedpost and picked them up, spinning them around a finger. “Used these recently?”
“What?” 2D moved so slowly, struggling to sit up. He ended up still mostly horizontal, propped a bit against the headboard.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it.” Murdoc had lived with him long enough to know he liked to cuff the girls he brought round for otherwise undoubtedly lacklustre sex. “By the way, if you can’t count to five I’m getting Russ and we’re checking you into hospital.”
“What am I on?”
Murdoc snorted. “You tell me, mate.”
Stu frowned.
He wouldn’t pick up on it, so Murdoc answered, “Three.”
“Three,” Stu repeated. “Four, then.”
Murdoc nodded. “Go on.” He reached out and closed a hand around 2D’s forearm, lifting it up. He snapped a handcuff shut around 2D’s wrist, and winced at just how easy it was to make out the shape of the bones inside.
2D watched him do it, watched the cuff lock tight, with a vague, spacey look of almost-alarm. When he spoke, what he said was, “Five,” and the other cuff was already locked around the leg of the bed, his hand pulled awkwardly down off the edge.
“Right.” Murdoc nodded. “That’s better, isn’t it? Listen, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”
2D looked up at him, clearly confused, and clearly too high to ask what was happening.
Seeing him cuffed in place gave Murdoc a warm sense of peace, and he took a deep breath there in the dark. The room smelled of unwashed clothes and semen and that odd cloying scent that often clung to 2D. When they’d first met he thought the lad smelled of sweets, but now he was pretty sure it was some sort of codeine-heavy cough medicine.
He turned and left, stopping by the kitchen cabinet where, after an incident, they began keeping naloxone and a few needles. Then he went upstairs and searched the room where all the old props and costumes from photoshoots accumulated. They never threw any of that out for a few reasons, the first of which being that, often, Hewlett needed to keep them around for reference, the second being nostalgia, and the third being that they’d be worth a fortune online in another three years or so.
The room was full of dust, and had a distinct smell of sulfur and mould to it. So not very out of the ordinary for Kong. Murdoc flicked on a torch after trying and failing with the lightswitch for a minute. The wiring had to be redone, and he made a note to tell Noodle, because she was the one who kept on top of things now.
He shifted through old clothing and safety-proofed weapons until he came up with the collar and lead 2D had worn for a photo a year or so ago. He blew dust off it, and admired it. He hadn’t appreciated it properly the last time he saw it. It looked quite handsome now, by the light of the little torch.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he said as he closed 2D’s door behind him, setting the drug and needle down on the nightstand. Priorities. “Few things that’ll help. That’s what I’ve brought you. You’re still awake, aren’t you?”
2D nodded. His free hand was working slowly and futilely at the cuff around his wrist, pushing and pulling at it. “What’s…?”
“I’ll tell you in a mo.” Murdoc took him by the shoulders and guided him - well, dragged him, maybe, was more accurate - out of bed and onto the floor beside it. “Feels better on your wrist this way, eh? It must, I reckon.”
2D’s reactions were sort of playing catch-up, everything a few seconds too late. He probably did need that naloxone sooner rather than later.
First things first, though. Murdoc knelt next to him and secured the collar around his neck, the leather stiff from years without use. He fed it through the buckle all the same, and it held. He clipped the lead to it, and gave a tug, just to make sure the thing was in working order.
The force of it pulled 2D forward onto his free hand and knees, and he barely moved in time to accommodate it, letting out an ungainly yelp.
Everything sorted, then. Murdoc didn’t let go of the lead, but he did stand up for a moment to collect the naloxone. “Hey, take your trousers off. Giving you a wake-up.”
“I can’t,” 2D said after a minute. “I’ve only got… got one hand.”
“That’s alright, I suppose.” Murdoc knelt back down, drawing the drug up. “We’ve had to do it through your trousers before. Not that you’d remember that.” He pushed the needle into 2D’s thigh through his jeans and emptied it.
In the time it took for the naloxone to kick in, he set the needle back down on the nightstand, and then trapped the lead safely beneath his boot, keeping 2D’s spine bent, keeping his body low to the floor.
In a minute, 2D was taking deep breaths, getting oxygen back in his system. He was also grabbing at the lead, which was pulled taut. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just saved your life, that’s all. Again.” Murdoc looked down at him. That wasn’t true, really. Sure, the amount of opioids in 2D was killing off the few brain cells he had left. But Murdoc was positive it wouldn’t have been fatal if he’d been left to his own devices either. “I did want to have a chat, if you’d grace me with such.”
“What the fuck’s this?” 2D asked. “Let me up, you bastard.” He was tugging at the lead, trying to free it.
Murdoc used all his weight to keep it trapped beneath his boot. “I don’t think we’re seeing eye to eye much lately. Ever since Noodle called us back, actually. What do you say to talking it out?”
“I say piss off, you fucking- you fucking manky fucking cunt-” 2D made an undignified sound somewhere close to a growl, an expression of pure anger.
It delighted Murdoc. He pulled 2D’s desk chair over and sat in it, reaching down and pulling the lead so that it went through the small gap between his heel and where the sole of his boot next touched the ground. He tugged up, which yanked 2D’s head down, closer to his shoe. Lovely bit of leverage or torque or something; he didn’t know. He’d never been big on mechanics. “Listen, Stuart, listen.”
“I’m gonna bloody kill you, I’m fucking-” 2D blew out a breath hard. “I’m gonna kill you. Let me up, Murdoc. Let me up right now.”
“You listen to me or you’re not getting another dose of nalo.” Murdoc reckoned that’d do something; 2D was probably already feeling the opioids start to close back in on him. Thing was, he wasn’t sure how, exactly, he wanted to navigate this. He figured he’d make it up as he went along. The sight of it was motivation enough to keep going.
2D pressed his head against Murdoc’s shin. “I’m sick of doing this.”
“Last time you did this it was for a cheeky photoshoot last year, lovey. I dunno what you’re talking about.” Murdoc watched him. Watched his back and the top of his head, more like. Watched the hand pulled awkwardly up and behind his back by the handcuffs flex and relax over and over and over.
“But it’s always like this with you, like, even if it’s not this part- particular thing, it’s something like this.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t want to talk,” 2D yelled, sudden. “I’m tired and my head hurts and I don’t want to be in a fucking dog collar, I mean- fucking hell, Murdoc!”
“Fucking hell what?”
“It’s not normal.”
“Since when do you know?”
“Since I talked to someone who wasn’t you and who wasn’t in this sodding band.” 2D grabbed the lead and pulled, trying to get a little more leeway.
Murdoc pulled it back, so much so that 2D’s head was pressed to his shoe. Good. “Who’s that, then? Crawl back to an old girlfriend, did you? Or have you just been getting in your heart to hearts with Mum?”
After a moment of silence, 2D said, “Shane, my mate Shane.” He sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth.
“Shane? Shane who; who’s Shane?”
“Shane Lynch, my best mate.”
“Shane Lynch, my best mate,” Murdoc echoed, nasty, mocking. “Do you fucking hear yourself?”
“God forbid I’ve got friends, Muds, is that it?” 2D took a deep breath. “I need another shot.”
“Did Shane bloody Lynch tell you the band’s off our rockers? Eh?” Murdoc located the naloxone and grabbed it with his free hand. “Shane Lynch, the same Shane Lynch who blew a gasket at the MTV awards and bloody lost it at his fucking charity concert?”
“Yes, alright? He’s doing better now.”
Murdoc navigated drawing a dose of naloxone up and into a needle. The idea of 2D spending that much time with someone he didn’t know made him want to break things. He considered not giving 2D his shot and letting him slip back into that near-overdose. God, it was an attractive option. He leaned down and emptied the needle into 2D’s thigh anyway, and heard 2D’s breathing pick back up. “What did Shane Lynch say, then?”
“Um… just that it wasn’t really all that right, how you treat us. Like, no one does this sort of stuff to his mates.”
“We’re not mates,” Murdoc stated.
“Yeah, obviously.” 2D was reaching behind him with his free arm, feeling out the floor.
“Is that where you’ve been?”
“What?”
Murdoc reckoned 2D’s brain must be in overdrive, being jettisoned back and forth between the influence of the two drugs. “When you leave Kong and disappear off the face of the earth for a week, do you go hang about with Shane Lynch?”
“Yeah, sometimes. It’s none of your bloody business, really.”
“It is, actually. See, when I ring Rachel for a bit of long distance bants, she sometimes asks about you, and I ought to be able to tell her, or else the rest of the evening doesn’t-”
“You shut up about my mum,” 2D spat, moving as much as he could, restrained as he was. “You fucking- you keep her name out of your foul fucking mouth, you fucking wankstain-”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Where are you when you go?”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Murdoc, I swear I will,” 2D repeated, voice taut and messy with anger. “Let me up.”
“Where do you go?”
“Can’t I have one fucking thing to myself?”
Murdoc wondered if he’d be able to make 2D cry. It had happened rarely before that he needled 2D enough, and about the right things, to make the lad start crying out of frustration and anger. He liked doing that; made him feel in control. “If you say where you go, I’ll let you up. It’s a safety thing, 2D, you understand. Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll try and explain it. You’re a… an impaired person-”
“Fucking hell, Murdoc.”
“No, you are, you are. I just mean it like you get those migraines, and if you’re out in the middle of nowhere and no one knows where you are, we worry. That you’ll not be able to get home, that sort of thing.” It was sort of true. Russel definitely worried about that when 2D was gone. Murdoc himself worried more about other things that wouldn’t be helpful to mention. “It scares Russ shitless, the idea of you being hurt and us not knowing where to find you.”
“I’m not just wandering the bloody countryside, alright? And if it was Russ who had a problem with it, why didn’t he talk to me himself?” 2D asked.
Murdoc shrugged, and pretended not to notice 2D finally come up with a switchblade from the pile of clothes he’d been searching with his one hand.
“I’m with people I trust.”
“Who?”
“Girls, sometimes, alright? I had girlfriends and that back at the funfair and sometimes I go visit them. And I do see Shane. We race and stuff.” 2D popped the blade open.
Murdoc reached down and pulled it out of his hand before he could use it. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave you with this.”
2D made a sound in the back of his throat, furious, helpless.
“So while Shane Lynch is bumming you in the back of his motorsports monstrosity-”
2D sunk his teeth into the leather of Murdoc’s boot.
“Hey-” Murdoc yanked his foot away.
2D rocketed back, suddenly able to work with all the strength he’d been using to try and get the lead out of Murdoc’s hand. He was getting to his feet when the handcuff jerked him back down.
Murdoc had pulled his boot into his lap, inspecting it. “These cost money, you fucking moron,” he hissed, running a finger over the tooth marks dug into the leather.
“Buy another pair,” 2D spat, crouched awkwardly to accommodate the cuff. “And maybe next time you want to do something like this don’t think I’ll just go along.”
“I just wanted to get back on the same page,” said Murdoc. “You make things so fucking difficult.”
“I make things difficult?” 2D echoed. “You’re the one who came in and cuffed me to my bloody bed. That’s not fucking normal!”
“Shut up about that,” Murdoc barked. “You hear a line you like one time and now it’s all you can fucking say. It’s not normal,” he mocked. “Do some thinking for yourself, don’t quote Shane Lynch at me.”
“But you’re just hung up on stuff like that, you’re not even hearing what I’m trying to say.”
“What are you trying to say?” Murdoc snapped.
“I fucking hate you,” 2D yelled back, matching his volume. “And I don’t like spending time here ‘cos no one anywhere else puts a fucking dog lead on me when I’m trying to rest, alright? No bloody wonder I’m not here all the time.”
“You weren’t trying to rest, you’d done yourself an overdose,” Murdoc told him, keeping his voice soft. “I saved your life just then. If I weren’t here you’d be dead.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is.”
2D was silent, and, slowly, he sat down on the floor, struggling to undo the collar with just one hand.
A minute passed, and another.
Murdoc gave up on trying to rub the indents out of his boot.
“Will you get this off me?” 2D asked, quietly.
Murdoc watched him. He could tell he’d be needing another shot of naloxone soon, and decided then that it would be better just to let him enjoy his opioids. “Alright.”
2D tipped his head back.
It was probably so Murdoc could undo the buckle easier, but Murdoc knew that it was also at least a bit about 2D not wanting him to touch his face at all. He tapped a few fingers unnecessarily against 2D’s jaw because of it.
2D smacked his hand away.
“Do you want help or don’t you?” he asked, pointed.
2D glared at him down his nose, lips pulled back into a sneer that made him look like a cornered animal.
Murdoc had half a mind to reach back over and touch 2D’s tongue through the gap in his teeth just to remind 2D that he could. That he could do pretty much anything, if he wanted. He wasn’t smashed enough to consider it seriously, though, and the idea of it almost got under his skin a bit.
He did unbuckle the collar, albeit as slowly as he possibly could. He liked doing things like this, inconveniently, when 2D wasn’t able to do them better himself. He liked being 2D’s only option. And more than that, he could tell the naloxone was wearing off.
2D’s eyelids were starting to settle at half-closed, and then slip further. His breathing was audibly slowing down. “Murdoc,” he mumbled, bringing his free hand up to grasp messily at one of Murdoc’s wrists. “I need another shot.”
“I think you’re alright,” Murdoc assured him. He pulled the collar off. “There’s that done.” He also located the little bottle of naloxone and tossed it across the room.
“Murdoc,” 2D repeated, head turning to follow the arc of the bottle a few seconds belated.
“If you think you need another shot feel free to get it yourself. Seeing as you don’t need my help anymore.” Oh, it was cruel, but it was a necessary lesson. Murdoc sat back in his chair. “Maybe you could ring Shane Lynch to give you a hand, eh?”
2D sat back against the side of his bedframe, rubbing at his face with his free hand. After a minute, though, he stopped doing that, too. He did say, his voice slow and tripped-out, “Murdoc, please.”
Murdoc reached over to pat his head, and realized just then he wasn’t sure where the key to the handcuffs was. That was alright. It wasn’t his problem, was it. He scratched 2D’s scalp. “I think we cleared up where we stand with each other nicely. Don’t you?”
He waited, even though he knew 2D was too high to really formulate a proper response. Then he added, “Just to be sure, could you count to five, lovey?”
After a minute, 2D said, “One.”
“Good.”
“Two.”
“Alright, well done.”
“Three.”
Murdoc stood up, and returned the chair to its spot at the desk.
“Murdoc?”
“Yeah?” Murdoc looked down at 2D. “You’re doing fine, you don’t need a doctor. Go on.”
2D was looking him in the eyes, vaguely, his own eyes unfocused. “Four.”
“There you go, mate.” Murdoc backed up, and crossed the room.
“Five.”
Murdoc slipped out, and closed the door on the whole pathetic little scene.