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The sun had nearly gone down by the time Noodle reached the remains of Plastic Beach. Seizing something that looked like it may have once been a card table, she pulled herself up out of the deep water (Plastic Beach had a very steep dropoff) and onto the refuse littered "shore," glad that the island itself still seemed to be fairly stable, despite the beating it had taken during the destruction of Murdoc's new recording studio.

Serves him right. She tried to suppress the thought and the anger that came with it and concentrated only on getting further up the beach, out of the damp and the waves and the tide (if there was one…she had absolutely no idea of the mechanics of an island made out of garbage). She needed to find a spot where she could get out of the elements, needed to find a place where she could rest and collect herself and figure out what to do next.

Looking further "inland," she saw that, while the studio may have been in ruins, those ruins were still in fairly large pieces, and while some of the ruins still smoldered, most of the fires had burnt themselves out by now, and some of the pieces looked untouched by fire completely. If she could find one that was stable and unburnt, it might make a workable shelter. Perhaps there were even some supplies among the debris. Murdoc had to have gotten his food and water from somewhere while he was hiding out here. Perhaps something had survived.

If not, she still had her pack, at least, and it had a few snacks in it, things she had picked up at a convenience store before boarding the ship that brought her here, just a few quick calories to tide her over if she got hungry, but they might be the only thing she had to keep her alive now. It also, thankfully, had a pair of shoes in it, so she wouldn't have to worry about stepping on broken glass or jagged metal while she went wandering around the floating landfill looking for shelter. She quickly pulled out the white shoes and slipped them on her feet, glad that the waterproof pack had kept them dry. Then she hoisted the pack back onto her shoulders, thankful that she had kept it with her when she had gone into battle (her guitar wasn't so lucky, and was probably lost for good) and headed inland.

Slowly and carefully, she picked her way among the pieces of wreckage that were furthest away from that remained of the fires, looking for one the would keep out the wind without falling over. The weather was still clear, she could tell that by the stars that were now coming out over her head, but there was no guarantee that it would stay that way. She leapt lightly down from a refuse mound , glad that the "ground" here was much firmer and drier than it had been down on the "beach," and headed toward a piece of wall that leaned at an angle against a hill of trash. If it was stable, it might make a decent shelter, as the angle was gentle enough to form a crude roof over her head.

The piece of wall was pinkish and metallic, so it must have been one of the walls from the outside of the building. It didn't budge when she pushed on it from a variety of angles, and stayed put when she scampered up its gently sloping side to the top of the garbage hill. A quick inspection of the top showed that it was wedged into the garbage quite firmly and she could not push it or move it from that angle either. Deciding that it was safe enough, she slid back down the side and crawled underneath it.

It was spacious enough inside that she could stand up fully, and the ground was smooth and hard underneath her feet, as opposed to a spongy mess of garbage. Perhaps another piece of the building was underneath her. There was even a large window down toward where the wall met the ground, and the glass, or plastic, or whatever it was made of, was unbroken. All in all, this little section of toppled wall made an almost perfect shelter.

At least something is going right. She sat down beside the window, which was partly buried in the ground along with the wall that contained it, and tapped on it. Plastic. Just like practically everything else around here… She set her pack down at her feet and reclined beside the window. From her "bed," she could see all the way down to the beach and the fetid sea beyond. How luxurious, she thought wryly. You sure do have fine taste in tropical resorts, Murdoc. The only thing that's missing from the view is one of those plastic palm trees you had all around the studio.

She glanced at her pack, thinking about the snacks inside, then gave into temptation and opened it. Inside was a granola bar, two bottles of water, an apple, and five individually wrapped pieces of sting cheese. Looking at the utterly mundane selection of food, she was struck with the memory of purchasing it at the gas station before heading down to board the ship. She had been so excited that she'd hardly noticed what she'd been buying. Just a few things that looked vaguely palatable. She was going to see her friends again, after so long. That had been all that had mattered.

Her hunger disappeared as tears blurred her vision. She slammed the pack shut, forgetting about eating for the time being and tossed it into the corner. She needed to get out of here. She was utterly exhausted, but she needed to get out. Get moving. Get some air. Calm down and clear her mind and then decide what to do.

She climbed out of the shelter and began to pick her way among the piles of refuse, searching for higher ground, for a spot where she could sit and stare out at the sea and calm her mind. She finally located a decent spot near the water, where garbage had formed a cliff of sorts, a sturdy little hill that jutted out over the water, giving her a good view of the ocean while keeping her nice and dry. Reaching the top of it, she sat down between an empty pizza box and a broken baby doll that was missing an eye. I can relate, Little Sister… she thought nonsensically, touching her swollen right eye. Easing herself into the familiar position she assumed when meditating, she took a deep breath, let it out, and gazed out at the horizon.

It was dark enough now that she couldn't see much of anything out there, even if there still was something to see. No smoke from any of the downed planes or sunk ships, no wrecks floating in the water, no submarines…no nothing. Just blackness and emptiness and the sound of a single seagull that was still out at this time of day, and a little splash sound as the water must have washed over some obstacle or into a slight eddy below her.

Why? The thought came to her unbidden, but she no longer had the strength to push it away. It was just her and the darkness now, and she could no longer run away to a change of scenery to distract herself. Why, Murdoc? Why 2D? Why had they done it? She had never thought she had given them reason to. She had thrown her heart and soul into the band, had been the best guitarist she could be for them, had stuck by them at their worst and loved them when they had shown themselves to be quite unlovable. They had never been good caretakers, but she made sure that they didn't need to be. She could take care of herself, and she had, and she had been a part of them, pulling her own weight and more in a friendship…in a family that had been the first and only one she'd ever had, and she had been happy. And even after the bad times, even after the helicopters came for her in a botched attempt of Murdoc's to eliminate an enemy, even after she had been separated from them and had gone through Hell and back with no sign they were searching for her or even wondering where she was, she had not held it against them. They were imperfect people, and the world they lived in was not always safe or kind, but she could take care of herself, and she would fight her way back to them, and she had done so, and she had found…

That thing.

That copy.

And they liked it better than her. They had taken it with them and left her behind.

They threw me away! They threw me away and replaced me with a machine! With a prop, a doll, a toy! Did I mean so little to them that they could just replace me with something painted to look like me and move on? Was I nothing to them but a thing? A thing to use, a thing to replace when it got lost, a thing to forget about? Russel and me both! We were nothing more than walking musical instruments to them! Russel's lucky they didn't leave him behind too! They never cared about either of us, and they never will. I hate-

No. She beat down the thought. Even after everything that had happened, she couldn't make herself hate them. They were all her heart had. If she hated them, she would have no one left in the entire world to love. No one but ghosts.

Splash.

The sound was a bit louder this time. Perhaps the waves were picking up, or the tide was coming in, or there was a fish or one of those ridiculous jellyfish stranded in the shallows below her, or any number of things. What did it matter?

I'm going to die out here…

She tried to push that thought away too. This was no time for despair to creep in. She would find a way out of this mess. She had too. She was a super soldier, and no matter how many bad things happened, she would keep going.

Only…

Only, what was the use of keeping going when you had no one to keep yourself going FOR?

Splash!

The sound was beginning to irk her. It was loud and irregular enough that perhaps it was indeed made by a fish or some other animal. She decided to check, likely for no other reason than so she could properly focus her annoyance. And if it's one of those stupid jellyfish, I'm going to bean it with that ugly baby doll. She crawled to the edge of the garbage cliff and peered over the side, down into the water below.

The beach below the hill sloped down at a gentle angle to meet the water, and where it did, she saw several large pieces of garbage sticking out of the surf like strange boulders. She could make out a rusted car door, an old mattress, and a broken TV, among other things. And near the car door, she saw a dark shape in the water that she at first mistook for some sort of oil slick. It was dark and spreading and seemed to change shape in the ebb and flow of the water below. Then, she saw something long and spindly come out from the black shape and reach weakly for the shore. An arm. A hand.

There was a PERSON down there.

Noodle froze instinctively, holding her breath and not even daring to blink. She stayed still as a statue and watched the weak movement below, trying to see who it was, wanting to know if she faced friend or foe.

The hand found the shore, braced itself against the detached car door and made an attempt to pull the rest of the body out of the surf. It trembled slightly, the long pointed fingers flexing against the car door, and then it slipped back down into the dark water.

Splash!

The waves pushed gently at the limp form, and it seemed to expand and contract in the water once more. Then it moved again, a bit more frantically this time. This time she saw two arms reach for the car door, and succeed in pulling the shape halfway out of the water, where it lay there, looking like it was unsure if it had the strength to continue. Noodle realized she was still holding her breath and let it out as quietly as she could, just as the shape below lost its grip on the shore again and slid back into the water.

Splash!

She allowed herself some slight movement so she could lean further over the edge and get a better look at whatever it was. It lay in the surf, little more than a silhouette to her, but she could see that it had long thin limbs and a very round, smooth head, although the head seemed to taper into an odd snout of some sort. Unless that was just a trick of the light causing the head to blend into whatever refuse it was resting on. The blackness that she had mistaken for oil was still there, streaming away from the figure's shoulders like some sort of cape.

And Noodle was suddenly very, very glad she had remained silent and unmoving. Because she now knew who she was looking at.

The black cloaked monster in the gasmask, the one from the boat, the one that the other Noodle had peppered with bullets and knocked off the deck of the ship at the climax of the battle. Right before she had turned on Noodle herself. The "Boogieman," as Murdoc had called it. It had survived being shot and had managed to get itself to Plastic Beach, just as she had, and was now trying to drag itself up out of the surf as she watched.

It reached out feebly once more, but this time it lacked the strength of even the previous efforts, and its hand slid back down the shore and into the water, not even a splash marking its fall this time.

Noodle watched, but it did not make another attempt to get up out of the surf and instead lay in the filthy water, its cape still billowing around it in the waves like spilled oil, and its head resting awkwardly on the shore, one hand still outstretched toward the car door. Noodle watched for about ten minutes more, but it did not move again.

Was it dead?

Maybe…or maybe it was just resting after a long swim. Or maybe it knew she was there, and was trying to trick her into going down there to investigate. She didn't see how it could possibly have seen or heard her, but she was fairly sure it wasn't human, so perhaps it had heightened senses or extra-sensory abilities. Maybe it was waiting for prey to come within reach so it could start replenishing its strength, at least enough to get up out of the water. Maybe it was waiting for her to come within reach of those long fingers and…

Noodle shook herself, trying to get rid of a sudden attack of the heebie jeebies. She didn't like it, but she did know that, trap or not, she had to go down there and investigate. The only other option was to return to the shelter for the night, knowing the Boogieman was somewhere on the beach, possibly alive and possibly hungry. Or angry. Or whatever motivation it had. And that was foolish. She would just have to be careful. She once again regretted the loss of her gun, but there was nothing she could do about that. Maybe she could hit it with that stupid doll if it attacked her.

She slid carefully down the refuse mound, making sure to give the limp figure a wide berth. She grimaced as her feet hit the ground. It was unbelievably wet and soggy down here, and stank terribly, the smell a charming combination of ripe garbage and all the unpleasant scents of the sea-brine, mud, seaweed, dead fish. She would have covered her nose if she hadn't wanted to have both ands free to defend herself. The light from the rising moon glinted dully off the figure lying in the water, and now that she was closer, she could see it more clearly. It was longer than she was tall, and although it had a person's shape, it was crooked and wiry and unnatural. What little she could see of its torso under that cape looked frail and boney, its exposed flesh had a strange greenish cast to it, and the head she could see behind the gasmask was veiny and swollen and quite unpleasant looking. Its outstretched hand was more than twice as long as her own, and although it wore gloves, Noodle could tell that the fingers underneath ended in wicked claws. Its nose was long and crooked, looking like a cross between Pinocchio's and a witch's from a fairy tale, and that gasmask gave it a blank, perpetually wide-eyed expression , which was now fixed on some distant point down the beach as its head rested on the garbagy substrate. Of course, there was no way to tell if the eyes behind that mask could still see or not, no way to tell without getting closer…

Noodle almost laughed to herself. And then what? What was she going to do, creep up to it and poke it with a stick? And if it was still alive, what then? She had no weapon. Was she going to throw the TV at it? Bludgeon it to death with the car door? She had absolutely no plan, and she was ten feet from the thing! Some soldier! Maybe she'd deserved to get kicked off the ship's deck by her robotic replacement.

She tried to ignore the thought. This was not the appropriate time for self-pity. She would deal with this situation…somehow...and then she could go back to the shelter and feel sorry for herself. If she absolutely had to.

That night-owl of a seagull cried again, and the masked creature raised its head.

Noodle panicked in spite of herself, and reached into the trash mound behind her for something to throw. Her hand closed over a soggy newspaper and she threw it at the thing. It flew apart into dozens of separate sheets and fell on and around the monster, and it swiveled its round head around to look at her. Damn it! She'd done nothing but get its attention. Their eyes met, one set bloodshot and frightened, the other wide and unblinking, and both of them froze, staring at the other.

She hardly dared to breathe as it looked at her with those empty eyes. She wanted to grab another piece of trash to throw, wanted to leap at it and try to get it under the water and drown it, even wanted to run back up the slope and hide herself among the old cars and broken appliances, but she could do nothing while it stared at her. Its expression was impossible for her to read and thus she had no idea what its next move would be. She could only be ready for it and react when it came.

The rising moon came out from behind a high, wispy cloud and shined down on both of them, turning the Boogieman into a black silhouette, but illuminating Noodle herself clearly.

The Boogieman bolted upright in what looked like a panic and threw itself backwards into the water.

Noodle lunged at it, afraid of losing it in the surf, afraid that it would be faster in the water and would swim away from her like some oversized eel. She landed on top of it and seized one of its wrists, narrow enough that she could get her entire thumb and forefinger around it, and the creature kicked at her, its foot hitting her in the chest, and although it didn't hurt, it startled her enough that she loosened her grip enough for it to wiggle free. But instead of swimming away like she'd feared, it blundered toward the shore on hands and knees, throwing itself up onto the beach and against the garbage hill that she'd recently been sitting on. It tried to climb up away from her, but the hill was too steep and the creature's strength was gone. Instead, it reached into the garbage pile and pulled out an empty beer bottle. It threw the bottle at her, but the throw was much too weak and it only made it half the distance between them before hitting the ground and shattering. This last attack seemed to use up all of the thing's remaining energy, and it cowered against the hill, shaking visibly.

Is it…is it scared of me? Why? It's not like I was able to hurt it at all back on the ship, and I don't even have a weapon anymore. Still, if it was as tired as it looked, as tired as she felt, then maybe it felt vulnerable. Whatever the reason, the monster's fear emboldened her a bit and she moved closer. Not too close though. She knew and a cornered and frightened creature could still be very, very dangerous. It cringed against the garbage when it saw her move closer, but did not move from its spot. It was still shaking, and its breathing was labored and hissing, reminding her a bit of Darth Vader from the old Star Wars movies. One hand held onto the hill, the other was clutched its side, and in the moonlight, Noodle could see dark blood on its fingers.

That must be one of the places where it was shot, she realized. And finally the reason for the creature's fear became clear. It probably thought she was the OTHER Noodle, the one that had shot it, come back to kill it while it was helpless. And after everything that had happened, THAT was the straw that broke the goddamn camel's back.

"I'M NOT HER!" she screamed at it, infuriated that it could have mistaken her for that glorified piece of scrap metal. She tapped her finger forcefully against her forehead. "See? No bullet hole!" She pointed to her eye. "No leak!" She pointed at her mouth. "No crazy grin! I'm not that piece of TRASH!" She'd lapsed into her native Japanese, too angry to remember and form the proper English words, but she supposed that it probably didn't matter. If it was a supernatural creature, it probably wasn't bound by language constraints. "I'm the real me! The real me, and that fake is not me, and don't you think that it is! Understand me? Do you understand me, YOU SON OF A b***h?" It didn't seem to react to her tirade, and instead remained cowering against the trash heap, like some humanoid rat or weasel, and its wide eyes still looked at her blankly. Because of the mask, of course, but in her anger, she could only interpret its expression as apathy. This thing didn't give a damn about her anger any more than Murdoc or 2D or anyone else in the world did.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed at it, and started searching the refuse-littered beach for something to throw at it. Choosing her missile more carefully this time, she seized a rusty hubcap and hurled it at the creature with all her strength, hitting it square in the face and causing it to fall from its perch. It hit the water with a splash, flailed around for a split second, and then lay still.

Quick as a cat, Noodle darted over to it. If she was going to try and kill it, she had better be fast. Get ahold of it now while it was dazed. Pin its arms to its sides. Hold its head under the water. Wait its struggles out. She was on her knees beside it in an instant. She reached out and seized it…and met no resistance.

That stopped her. And cooled much of her anger as well. She'd expected it to try and fight back, if only feebly, but it did nothing but flinch away from her slightly. And the thought of taking an unresisting victim and forcing its head under the water until it was dead made her feel slightly sick. She tried to steel herself, tried to remind herself that this thing was dangerous and was not something that she could leave running around in the darkness while she tried to sleep, but right now it didn't look like it was going to be doing much running around, what with it barely being able to raise its head out of the surf. Its labored breathing burbled whenever the waves lapped over the snout of its mask. Noodle reached out and wrapped her hand around its snout. It felt hard and metallic and about as big around as a soup can. All she would have to do was push down on it slightly to force it underneath the water. Then the rhythmic burbling sound would become constant, and then it would fade away, and she would be alone again. Alone and safe.

The Boogieman finally tried to resist her, reaching out and trying to push her hand away.

It couldn't.

She couldn't.

She hesitated a moment more, then gently angled the creature's snout so that it was out of the water and resting on the beach.

The burbling sound ceased and the hissing, labored breathing returned. The Boogieman's hand fell back onto the beach beside its face. It's wide, unblinking eyes glinted in the moonlight as they stared blankly at the pile of refuse beside it.

Curious in spite of herself, Noodle reached out and gently touched its gloved hand. Its long fingers were bony and delicate, despite being larger than her own, and they flexed against the ground when she touched them. Her own hand traveled down their length, feeling the hardness of the curved claws underneath the leather glove, then traveled back up again, past the glove and up onto its wrist, and then its arm. Its greenish flesh felt similar to a human's, except that it was slightly tougher and lacked hair. Feeling bolder, she reached up and poked the strange, exposed flesh of its head. Her fingers sank slightly into the rubbery, vein-ribbed skin and she grimaced, pulling her hand away. There was a dark liquid on her fingers when she lifted her hand from the creature's head, and she realized that it was bleeding from a head wound. Another bullet wound? Or maybe just a gash sustained when it had fallen? She couldn't see very well in the moonlight, and she didn't really want to go feeling around in the bloody, veiny mess to try and find out the nature of the wound. She wiped her hand on one of her leggings instead, then rested it on the creature's mask. The mask was made of stiff leather and felt slick and greasy, although that could have just been from lying in filthy garbage water for who knew how long. The Boogieman's breath hitched slightly, paused, then resumed its labored hissing.

"You are hurt very badly, aren't you?" she whispered to the creature. "You'd never let me do this if you weren't. " It's only reply was hissing breathing and staring eyes. Noodle looked down at the limp, blank-eyed, suffering thing and felt a soft stirring of pity in her heart. It seemed someone was having an even worse time of it than she was. And yes, that someone was a monster, maybe even a demon, and it had initiated a nasty battle and tried to kill her friends, but it was also in pain and frightened of her and lying in the cold, stinking water, and it made her heart hurt for someone other than herself for the first time since she'd climbed up on the beach. It seems the old adage is true, she thought to herself. No matter how bad you've got it, someone always has it worse. At that someone was lying in front of her, shivering in the surf.

She reached out and took hold of it beneath its arms and pulled it out of the water as gently as she could.

It struggled slightly against her, then went limp again. Its breathing became more labored. Its wide eyes stared off into the distance.

Noodle lifted its upper body and got one arm underneath its shoulders. She slid the other underneath the monster's knees, and slowly got to her feet.

She was relieved to find that it was actually quite light, despite being awkward to carry, with its long limbs and trailing cape. It felt a bit like she was trying to haul a scarecrow around. She managed to get it back up the hill and headed toward her shelter, staggering as she struggled with carrying the thing, the two of them looking like the poster for the world's strangest horror movie.

Once she got inside, she laid it down beside the window, where the light was best, then began rummaging around inside her pack for the pen light she knew was in there. She was going to have to take a look at the creature's wounds, and she needed all the light she could get. She wasn't sure what exactly she could do for it, but she thought she ought to at least try. Her soldier training had included first aid, but bullet wounds and internal trauma were beyond her skills. Still, the only other alternative was simply waiting for it to die, and that seemed as cruel to her as leaving it in the surf. It couldn't hurt to take a look. She finally located the pen light, flicked it on, and placed it between her teeth so she could have her hands free. She opened a hidden compartment inside the pack and pulled out the travel first aid kit that was inside, then went over and knelt beside the Boogieman

"I'm going to take a look at you now and see if there's anything I can do to help," she mumbled around the pen light. She still didn't know if it could understand her or if it was even still conscious, but it seemed…rude…to just start fumbling around without a word of warning. "I need you to hold still and let me see. Don't worry, I promise I'll try my best not to hurt you."

There was no response from it save that hissing breathing. Noodle hesitated, unsure of how to begin. Well, I know it has a side wound and a head wound. I suppose I should start with the side wound, since that seems to be causing it the most pain. Still, she hesitated, looking at the creature. Its face was turned away from her and staring out the window. Its hands were limp at its sides. Its breathing was unchanged. It hardly seemed aware of her.

"I'm going to take a look now," she said again. "Hold still." She took hold of the Boogieman's wet cape and pulled it open, exposing its torso. Her first impressions on the beach had been correct, as its torso was indeed skeletal. However, it was not pure bones, like a Halloween skeleton, but rather, was dried and shriveled flesh that seemed to cling to the bones underneath, like an unwrapped mummy or perhaps a well-decayed zombie. Looking at is bizarre anatomy, she couldn't help wonder at how such a thing could even be alive. Then again, it was the Boogieman. She didn't know if it WAS really alive, if it could even be healed, if it could even die. Still, it was bleeding and was in pain, which pointed toward it being a real flesh and blood creature, but…she honestly didn't know. If she was going to try to help it though, she might as well operate under the assumption that is was alive and similar to a human unless something indicated otherwise.

Something like a skeletal torso? She shook her head wryly and the light bounced all over the wall. Steadying the penlight again, she located the side wound and touched it gently. The creature's breath hissed louder. She felt the edges of the wound underneath he thick black ichor that was oozing out of it. Small and round…yup definitely a bullet wound. Not that there was really much chance of it being anything else, since she had seen the creature get shot during the battle. She reached underneath the creature and located the larger exit wound in its back. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about the bullet still being in there. She didn't know if there was internal damage though. She didn't know if the Boogieman had organs. It did have some sort of blood though, and that was still oozing freely. Maybe she should just close up the wound to stop the bleeding and hope for the best.

She opened the first aid kit and found the supplies she needed for stitches, as well as some disinfectant. Reading her needle, she wiped the blood away with some gauze and disinfectant and then slipped her needle into its odd, dry flesh to make the first stitch.

The creature's breath hissed in sharply and it smacked her hand away from the wound. Her needle and thread flew out of her hand and clattered somewhere off in the darkness.

"Stop that!" she snapped at the Boogieman. "You need to hold still! Do you want me to leave it like that and let you bleed to death? I know it hurts, but if you hold still, it will be over faster." Annoyed, she shined her penlight all around until she found the needle and thread next to the wall. She poured the disinfectant on the needle, then returned to the creature's side. "Hold still. This is going to hurt," she told it, "But I want you to relax and let me help you. Please." She slipped the needle into its flesh once again.

Its hand came up again, but she was ready for it this time, and caught its wrist. She forced it back onto the ground and put her knee on it. Not comfortable for the creature, she knew, but there was no other choice to restrain it. Its other hand came up and she smacked it away, then quickly completed the stitch. She stuck her needle in for the second stitch. The monster bucked underneath her and its breathing became loud and frantic. She pushed its hand away again, then leaned over and stuck out her elbow to try and deflect its hand from any further attempts. In this awkward pose, her knee on the creature's arm, her elbow stuck out, penlight in her mouth, she completed the last three stitches while it struggled silently underneath her. She had been wondering if it could talk at all, but after this, she decided it must be mute. Surely if it could talk or make any kind of noise, it would have been yelling at her. Or screaming. Or growling. Or whatever it was that demons did.

She leaned back and looked at her handiwork, dodging one last smack from the Boogieman as soon as she got off its arm. Closed. Of course, it didn't really much matter if the serious damage was inside, but it was the best she could do. And the Boogieman would probably filet her if she messed around in there much more. She covered the wound with a bandage and then gently turned the creature over so she could see to the exit wound. The Boogieman gave a quavering, drawn out respiration she could only interpret as a sigh of resignation, and she felt that soft pity return.

"Shhhh…" she leaned over and whispered in its ear (or, at least, where its ear would be, since she couldn't actually see one). "It's all right. I just need to close up this last wound, and then it will be over. Can you hold still while I do?" Sadly, she knew it could not, so when she moved its cape out of the way so she could see the wound more clearly, she wrapped the black cloth around its arms, pinning them to its sides. Its struggled weakly, writhing against the ground. "I'm sorry," she said softly, feeling like an ogre. Again, she poured disinfectant over the wound. It struggled more fiercely, and its booted feet kicked against the ground. Noodle quickly made the stitches, closing this wound more easily since she didn't have to fight off the creature while doing so. She placed a bandage on the wound, then let go of the creature and threw herself backwards, in case it struck out at her once released.

But it didn't. It didn't even seem to have the strength to get its arms free of the cape. Instead, it seemed to huddle in on itself, drawing its knees up against its body and huddling away from her. Noodle crawled back over to it, slowly in case it decided it did want to attack after all. She longed to soothe it again, but decided that since it was already restrained, she might as well see to its head wound. She shined the penlight on the top of the Boogieman's head, and was greeted by the charming sight of black veins straining every which way against the odd green flesh. A fresh trail of black ooze was plowed through this mess at the very top of the thing's head. Must have been grazed by a bullet...She was relieved that didn't look like it needed any stitches, since she really, REALLY didn't want to try sewing up that disgusting veiny nastiness. Instead, she wiped it as clean as she could get it, disinfected it, and covered it with a bandage.

"There. All done," she whispered to the masked creature. "All done." She pulled its cape loose, freeing its trapped limbs, then rolled it gently back over onto its back. Using the penlight, she did a quick search of the rest of its body, but did not find any other wounds. The cyborg must have had really lousy aim, she thought, packing up her first aid supplies and placing them back into her pack. Of course, what can you expect from a copy? I wouldn't have missed twenty times. Maybe if that glorified tin can had done its work properly, neither of us would be going through this right now… She looked back over at the Boogieman. "Not that the alternative would be much better for you," she said softly to it. "But at least you wouldn't be suffering." She zipped up the pack and then crawled back over to the wounded monster.

Its head was facing away from her, toward the window, but otherwise, it was as she had left it. Its breathing had gotten faster and shallower though, which gave her pause. When something was breathing like that, it was never a good sign. She was reminded of a baby bird she had found when she was a very young girl. "Found" was actually the wrong word-she had rescued it from a cat. It had been wounded though, and Dr. Kyuzo had said there was nothing they could do for it. Determined to save it however, she had smuggled it into her room and made it a little nest of handkerchiefs in a shoebox. She had been hopeful at first, but it had gotten worse as the evening wore on, and it kept her up that night with that desperate shallow breathing. She had eventually fallen asleep, and when she had woken up the next morning, the little bird had been cold and stiff and dead. Just like the Boogieman would probably be tomorrow morning.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered softly to it, although she wasn't actually sure why she should BE sorry. It had been attacking her friends after all. This whole situation was its own fault. Or was it? She realized that she actually didn't know anything of the nature of the conflict between Murdoc and the Boogieman. She'd arrived in the middle of the battle, and she had been "disposed of" before the battle's end, so she'd never really gotten an explanation of what was really going on. For all she knew, Murdoc had insulted the creature's mother or something.

Chuckling in spite of herself, she sat down next to the masked creature and touched its limp hand. "It will be okay," she lied, rubbing its fingers. "I'll look after you until you're well." Or until you're dead… Sighing, she absently stroked its hand as she listened to it breathe. It began to dawn on her that perhaps a gasmask wasn't the most comfortable thing to be wearing when you were having trouble breathing. She looked back up at its head, still turned away from her, and saw that the straps on the mask were haphazardly fastened and looked quite easy to undo. She reached out and started to work the top one free.

The creature hissed and pulled away from her, trying to huddle against the window. Its hand came back and tried to cover the mask straps.

"Okay, okay," she reassured it. "I won't take it off. I thought it might help you breathe easier, but if you want me to leave it on, I will." Besides, given what the back of its head looked like, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to see its face anyway. "Come on now," she said softly, pulling the creature away from the window as gently as she could. "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared of me. Shhhh, it's all right...it's all right." It struggled a bit against her, but she lifted it awkwardly into her arms, holding it to her and resting its bulbous, masked head against her chest. "It's all right now," she whispered to it. "You're safe."

There was no change in its demeanor, so she didn't know if it was comforted or not, but she imagined that it was, and that comforted her. She leaned back a bit, still holding the creature to her, and stared out the window at the moon, rising out over the ocean and casting a sickly light down on the unnatural beach.

I want my mom. It was a thought that came utterly out of nowhere and one that baffled her completely. Her mom? She hadn't even thought of either of her parents in years. She didn't even remember what either of them looked like. She supposed she had been very young when they had died. Or abandoned her. Or she'd been taken from them. Her memories of her soldier training had long since returned, but she still didn't have any memories of before that time.

Except maybe…she wasn't sure…but maybe…she had a few dim memories, now that she thought about it. A cramped little apartment, small but comfortable…a kind voice, a woman's voice, talking to her, teaching her, telling her how to put on a kimono…telling her how to cook a delicious smelling soup with fish and vegetables while a gentle hand guided her own in stirring it…singing her to sleep in the middle of the night after a nightmare. Singing in a sweet, clear voice about love and melodies and somesuch.

Mom? She blinked back tears, surprised. Was that…was that my mom? Why? Why am I remembering this now? Of course, it made sense that, in a situation like this, anyone would want their mom, but…she…she thought she had long left such childish feelings far behind.

The Boogieman stirred in her arms. I'll bet you want your mom too. If you have one, anyway. She looked down at it and saw with surprise that it was looking up at her with those wide, emotionless eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered to it. "I didn't mean to wake you." Of course, she didn't know if it had actually been asleep in the first place, but still… She cradled it closer and rested her chin on the top of the creature's head. And then snapped it up again when it touched rubbery veins and bloody gauze. Bad idea. Instead, she laid its head back on her chest and rubbed the back of its neck gently. There were no icky veins on its neck. "It's going to be all right," she told it again. "I'm here with you, and I'll stay by your side all through the night. So don't worry. Just go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

She began to rock it ever so slightly, and as she did, the old memories became clearer. Including the song. As the melody began to form in her mind, it also came to her lips, and she started singing it, perhaps to comfort the creature, or perhaps only as a way to capture it before it faded from her memory again. At first it was only the melody, but as she sang, the words began to return to her as well. Blinking back tears again, she rocked the masked creature in her arms and sang:

Over the ocean the ocean from long, long ago...

Came a voice on the wind of an ancient soul,

Words to carry me where nothing is really sure,

There will come a day, you will find peace...

Her voice caught in her throat. Singing that…it had brought back more memories than she cared to deal with right now. Those few dim memories of her mother. Her early childhood in the Super Soldier Program. The day she'd arrived on the Gorillaz's doorstep, the same day she'd met Murdoc and Russel and 2D for the first time. Their first recording session together. Their first concert. Their first tour. Her first solo music video. Her second music video…the day the helicopters came…

She clutched the Boogieman to her tightly and buried her face in the top of its head, not caring this time about its unpleasant texture. Its head could have been covered in boogers and cat barf for all she cared right now. She was not going to cry. She was NOT. She may have lost everything else in the world, but she was going to keep her composure. It was all she had left.

Deciding that that was QUITE enough singing for one night, she gently laid the creature back down beside the window, then lay down next to it. She knew it was probably just a flight of fancy, but she thought it seemed to be breathing a bit easier.

Yes, that's right. I've healed it with my magical singing voice. She chuckled to herself, the sound mostly devoid of humor. Tomorrow I'll sing an aria out on the beach and a magical flying horse will appear and the Boogieman and I will ride it over the waves to Shangri-la.

She turned over onto her side and sighed to herself. She was far too old to believe in fairy tales. She knew, deep down, that neither of them were going to get off this island. She was going to die here, and so was the Boogieman, and the two of them would rot here together, along with the millions of other things that had been used up and thrown away.