Master of puppets

"Where?" Matthew and Mike enquired together. They looked at her as if she was about to give them a shock any second.

"Where do you want to go?" Mike asked her again, this time in a friendlier tone.

She saw that characteristic twinkle in their eyes.

'What is wrong with you guys?' She thought. 'I am only a woman, weak and vulnerable at the moment. Not that I can't break your necks. You have taken care of it and I was a very diligent student in this matter, but not in that state. It's hard to concentrate, let alone any physical exertion…'

Matthew pressed her shoulders against the sofa and he wasn't gentle compared to when Mike was holding her hand with the drip. Both of them knew that she could be unpredictable. If they pissed her off, they could easily have black eyes. They couldn't afford it. Both of them had to go to work.

"Baby, think of your magnificent body. I'm sure you don't want to have more bruises." Matthew didn't know how to convince her. He couldn't come up with any meaningful argument. He knew that she absolutely didn't care about her appearance. It has always been more important who she was and what she represented herself as. Another moment and he will end up with a lime. He was sure about it.

"Jo... " Mike came up with an intention to help. "You are seriously sick. Your body is rebelling." He spoke slowly, knowing that Matthew had an important trial in court the next day. He was going only to the private clinic so he could make an effort to go with a few bruises. That wouldn't hurt his reputation much.

"You are severely dehydrated. Plus you have a very high fever. It's dangerous, especially for your brain!" That argument was like hitting a bull's eye. She became paralysed for a moment as her brain tried to process everything.

"... But I have to catch my flight!" She almost cried.

"Yes, I know..." Matthew was trying to calm her down by gently stroking her head.

She was terrified of spending time with the two. A moment longer and her head would explode. She was able to deal with them, but only separately. These two together were an explosive mixture. Bloodshed was inevitable.

"You're not going!" Mike took the lead, finally losing his patience. "You have a sick leave until the end of this week! The note has been sent to your employer. Tomorrow morning, I am taking you to the hospital for more tests."

"I am not sick!" She muttered. "Guys, I am just drunk! I have to go to work. I have responsibilities, obligations, deadlines…"

"I already changed your reservation. The end of discussion!" Mike added. "Understand?"

"I returned your rented car to Hertz and brought your suitcases from Monica." Matthew reported. "I told her that you will spend a few days with me. Most of your clothes were dirty so I washed them too."

She was done for, she realized. They already thought of everything: the flight, the rented car, her work, luggage, even Monica.

'Only, who is going to finish my work? Who will conduct the training? Damn... work can wait. Someone will take over my responsibilities… but… how am I going to survive a few days with these two?' Jo was really exhausted and thus, she closed her eyes to give her racing mind a rest.

The familiar music and well-known lyrics woke her up. "End of passion play, crumbling away; I'm your source of self-destruction; Veins that pump with fear, sucking darkest clear; Leading on your death's construction…"

"Turn that off! Pleaaasseee…" She screamed.

"You don't like the track of our favourite band. That can't be the case." She could hear the sarcasm in Mike's words who was sitting on the armchair next to the sofa, still holding the drip.

He turned the volume up. The characteristic guitar riffs and Hetfield's vocals reminded her of many painful memories.

"Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings; Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams; Blinded by me, you can't see a thing; Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream…"

"Does torturing me give you satisfaction? Mike, I always knew you were a fucking sadist! Nothing new!"

"Ooo… Does it still hurt? You are sensible, Jo! I didn't know that side of you, but it's probably just because of a high fever."

"Stop!!! I announce an armistice!" Matthew came back to the living room. "Shut up guys!"

He turned off the music and took the remote control from Mike's hand. He knew that if he won't change the subject immediately, there would be a real war with loss and bloodshed. If they start, he won't be able to stop them. He did not want to listen to their ills and turbulence of their stormy relationship once again.

Matthew truly loved them both. They shared the most wonderful moments of youth, spent together, so he didn't want to expose the wounds of the past once again. It was enough that Thomas tortured them the day before yesterday; he still hadn't picked himself up after it. He was still thinking about the conversation they had that night.

"The dinner is ready! Let's go eat." He said.

"What's wrong with you bro?" A confused Mike asked. "Where is the perfectly set table? Where are the candles?"

"Today's dinner will be served in the kitchen! Jo, will you join us? There are no smells, the ventilation is perfect, so if you cannot eat, just sit down with us."

"Is that dead body able to even get up?" Mike was sarcastic as he roughly pulled out the cannula from the back of her hand.

"Am I only a body to you?" Jo said. "Thanks friend..."

"Today you are my patient. I am a professional in every way. No offense." He stated with a poker face.

"Jo, could you?" Mike repeated his question. "I can see an improvement, you look better. How do you feel?"

"I slept again. I think my fever is gone..."

She got up slowly and picked up the white bathrobe from the sofa to put it on and the next second, she almost fell over. Fortunately, Mike caught her in time.

"I should check your blood pressure. Are you dizzy?" He asked in a gentle tone. He was so angry with her but at the end he knew that she was not well. He spent four hours with her watching the two bottles of glucose being administered in her body.

Without anymore words being exchanged, he slowly led her to the kitchen and sat her down on a stool. "Are you sure you can make it?"

"Yes. I want to stay with you, guys."

Jo truly liked the time she spent with Matthew at the table. Maybe another story could be learned from him. Each and every meal, be it a fancy dish or a simple quick whip-up, prepared by him was the most delicious and exquisite to her. For years, all of her friends, though joked amongst each other but still agreed that even a mere French toast made by him had a unique character and could be served to the crowned head.