hannah_chapter1: (Calm)
Title: Run Part Eight
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion. And Chris Evans. And Brandon Routh.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

I scramble out of bed like the sheets are on fire.

"What is this? What the hell did you do to me?"

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions, Dominic. What makes you think I did anything to you?"

"Are you serious? You come into my room in the middle of the night, you sneak into my bed - "


That one word, softly spoken, cuts through my indignant tirade.

"Dominic, this is my room. You got into bed with me."

"But that's imp..."

My protest dies in my throat as I take in my surroundings. He's right. This isn't my room. I make a low, frustrated sound and squeeze the bridge of my nose. My head begins to pulse with one of those small, nasty headaches, the ones that last for hours and laugh in the face of aspirin.

"Please," I beg him, "it can't be true. Tell me it's not true."

"But it is true. I'd been asleep for twenty, maybe thirty minutes when I heard someone fumbling with the door handle."

Matthew holds up a hand, thumb and first finger less than an inch apart.

"I came this close to blowing your head clean off. When I saw it was you, I asked you what was wrong. I thought you'd seen something that spooked you. But you wouldn't answer my questions. You took your clothes off and got into bed. You..."

"What? What did I do?"

I don't want to hear, but I have to know.

"You were touching me, kissing me, begging me to make love to you."

He must see something in my face, some disbelief, because he pulls the sheet down to his waist.

"You don't believe me? Take a look at this."

He fingers a purple bitemark just above the biggest scar on his chest.

"I didn't do this to myself, Dominic. That's not physically possible."

"Did we - "

"No, we did not. You weren't yourself, any fool could see that. Taking advantage of someone in that condition would be rape. I'm a hired thug and a killer, but I'm no rapist. It was hard, but I didn't give in to temptation"

He bites his lip at the memory.

"You have no idea how hard it was."

"But you're naked, we slept in the same bed."

"You blacked out on top of me. I would have slept on the floor, but you wouldn't let go, you just clung on like a little blond barnacle. And yes, I was naked, I always sleep naked when I'm alone. I wasn't expecting company."

"Why don't I remember any of this?"

"I have a theory about that."

He points at my arm. I follow his gaze and discover a huge bruise just above my elbow. I didn't have that yesterday. What's going on?

"Do you remember someone brushing up against you, knocking you to the ground, maybe? Can you tell me what happened after I left you in the bar?"

I try and remember, try and think through the headache.

"I finished my drink ... left the bar ... someone hit my arm ... I felt dizzy, sick ..."

"I thought so. Someone dosed you with Ephemerol."

"What's Ephemerol?"

"A neat little drug used by people in my line of work."

"What does it do?"

"Oh, lots of things. A small dose can be used as a truth serum. Larger doses can  make a person very open to suggestion, knock them out, cause memory loss. A large enough dose can kill a man in less than thirty seconds."

"Then why did I come in here? What did your wonder drug do to me?"

"Ephemerol can have side effects, especially when mixed with alcohol. It lowers inhibitions, increases desire, Some people call it the love drug."

"Love drug?"

"Yeah. I was called in to deal with an operative, he was preying on women in bars, slipping it in their drinks," Matthew's face darkens at the memory, "and people call me a deviant."

"You killed him?"

"Eventually. You know, we were lucky."

"We were?"

"Yes, we were. You came to me instead of wandering off and trying to force yourself on some poor girl."

Now there's a happy thought. I shiver.

"This memory loss, is it permanent?"

"Maybe, it depends on the person. You could have total recall an hour from now, a week, a year, never. Uhh, Dominic?"


"You're naked."

My face heats up and I cup protective hands over my genitals - a futile gesture, he's seen all there is to see. I brace myself for a lewd remark, but it doesn't come.

"You want to use my bathroom, take a shower?"

I gather up the clothes I was so eager to shed last night.

"I should go back to my room."

"That's a bad idea."

"Is it? Why?"

"They're out there, Dominic, and now they're after you. A three man team would be my guess. One to jab you with the needle, the others waiting in your room."

"You're sure?"

"Ninety-five percent. Do you really want to take that chance?"

I think about it.

"I'll use your shower."


I'm standing under the hot spray when it happens. Images, sensations pouring into my mind:

Matthew's sitting up, a gun in his hand. He rubs his eyes and puts the gun on the table.

"Dominic? What's wrong?"

Those eyes, that skin, he's beautiful. I want, I need ...

I take off my tie and jacket. My shirt buttons won't open, so I pull the whole thing up and over my head.


I step out of my pants and shorts, walk to him, climb into his bed.

His skin is so warm. How can such pale skin be so warm? I run my hand over his chest. Not enough. I want to touch everything. I want to lick him everywhere. I bite him, hard. He yelps and I feel him, stirring beneath me. I kiss the place I just bit, run my tongue over it.

"Stop it, Dominic."

His hand on the back of my neck, pulling me up. I don't understand.

"I thought you wanted this, Matthew. I thought you wanted me."

"Oh, Dominic, I do - "

I kiss him.

"Touch me. Make love to me."

He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"No, Dominic. Not like this. It's all wrong."

He sighs and runs a hand through my hair.

"You probably won't remember this, but I'll say it anyway. You've been drugged. You don't know what you're doing. I can't make love to you now, it wouldn't be right. But if this is what you really want, come to me sober, clear-headed, and ask me again."

His face fades away, everything goes dark.

Oh, God.

I groan and sink to my knees, wrapping my arms around myself. The water flows over me. Wash me away, wash me right down the drain, carry me away from here. Matthew knocks on the door.

"Dominic? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't use all the hot water."

"I won't"

I get out, dry off, dress. I wipe steam off the mirror and use Matthew's razor to scrape the stubble off my face. No toothbrush, so I smear toothpaste on my finger and use that instead.

Matthew takes the bathroom and I sit on the bed, listening to the sound of running water. My headache is gone. That's good. I can't stop thinking about last night. Why did I come to him? Why? Since I've been with him, since he blew into my life like a tornado, I haven't had time to think about him, us, this situation we're in. Am I ... attracted to him? Is it possible? Am I that kind of guy?


He pays the bill and I follow him out of the hotel. Matthew steals another car and takes us to a restaurant for breakfast. I eat slowly, keeping my eyes on my plate, not looking at Matthew until I'm done. He's stirring his coffee, lost in his own thoughts.



"About last night - "

"We don't have to talk about it, Dominic. Just forget it."

"But I have some questions, some things I want to ask you about."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why was your bedroom door unlocked?"

"It's an old trick of mine. Anyone trying to get at me will assume the door is locked, right?"

"I guess so."

"They'll try and pick the lock. That gives me time to wake up and get a gun."

"Why did they drug me? Why didn't they drug you?"

"They've got nothing on you. They must think you're some kind of secret weapon, an agent with a cover so good they can't crack it. That makes them nervous. They want you out of the picture."

"They could have shot me. That would have taken me out of the picture."

"It would, but why waste a valuable resource? They want you for themselves, want to break you down, brainwash you, bring you over to their side."

"But why did they drug me? Why not just hit me over the head and drag me away? Why does it all have to be so complicated?"

"Because complexity can become an addiction."

"I don't get it."

"I make a plan, a simple plan. Someone wants to stop me, they make another plan, a better, more complex plan. I make another, even more complicated plan to counter that one and that's how it goes. Plans within plans, wheels within wheels."

"How did they knew where we were? I thought you'd thrown them off the scent."

"Someone's tracking us."

"Someone like you?"

"Someone like me - or someone better than me."


"I'm not sure."

Matthew stands, retrieves his briefcase and drops some money on the table.

"Come with me."

We walk across the restaurant and into the men's room. Matthew checks all the stalls, making sure we're alone.

"Ever used a gun, Dominic?"


I don't even have war experience to draw on.

"Then we start simply."

Matthew unstraps his ankle holster and pulls the gun free.

"Revolvers are pretty straightforward. Pull back the hammer, point, shoot."

I take the gun. It's heavier than I thought it'd be. He takes it from me, puts it back in the holster and straps the whole thing to my ankle. I walk up and down, testing the weight.

"How does it feel?"

"Heavy. Awkward."

"You'll get used to it."

He takes a cash roll from his pocket and offers it to me.

"Take this, too."

"Why are you doing this, Matthew?"

"Insurance. If we get separated, if something happens to me, I don't want to leave you helpless."

I take the money and we leave the bathroom.

hannah_chapter1: (Fatrix)
Title: Run Part VII
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion. And Chris Evans. And Brandon Routh.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.


The man in the door grabs Matthew by the shoulders and kisses him on both cheeks. He releases Matthew and turns his attention to me. I hang back, not wanting to be kissed by a strange man; I just know Matthew will spend the rest of the day making jokes about it. It falls to Matthew to make the introductions.

Dominic, this is Danny, we work together from time to time. Danny, this is Dominic. He's ... a friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you," Danny gives my hand a token squeeze as he ushers us inside, "any friend of Matthew's is a friend of mine."

He leads us into a large kitchen and gets right down to business.

"I take it this isn't a social call."

"One thing I always liked about you, Danny, you catch on fast."

"No room in this game for slow learners, Matthew, you of all people should know that. Now, what can I do for you?"

"We need money and I need ammunition."

"Bad action?"

"It's not good."

"It never is."

"Will you help us?"

"Of course. Do you want to stay the night? You'll be safe here and I've got plenty of room."

"Sounds good to me."

"Then it's settled," Danny rubs his hands together, "you'll stay here tonight and I'll get you everything you need. Now, how about some dinner?"

That sounds good and I'm about to say so when I feel Matthew's hand on my elbow. I stay quiet.

"No, that's okay. We've got to go out for awhile, we'll get something on the way back."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. We'll see you later, Danny."

And, just like that, we're back in the car.

"Where are we going, Matthew?"



"Yes, Dominic, shopping. I don't know about you, but I need a change of clothes."

I sniff my shirt. I can smell my own sweat and the sweat of the man who attacked me.

"Alright, let's go shopping."


That felt so very, very good. I look at my smooth face in the mirror, then at the hairs in the sink. We stopped at a drugstore while we were out shopping and I picked up a razor, which I've just put to good use. I hadn't shaved since the morning I was arrested. Was that really only a couple of days ago? It feels like a lifetime. There's a knock on the door and Matthew comes into the bathroom. He's holding a box in his hand, the other thing we got at the drugstore.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure."

He pouts.

"But I love your blond hair, it's so pretty."

"Now I'm really sure. Let's do this."

He sighs.

"Alright. You need to take off your shirt."


"Or keep it on, if you don't mind getting dye all over it."

I pull my shirt over my head and try to ignore the way Matthew's staring at me. He opens the box and pulls out a small bottle.

"Bend over and put your head over the sink."

I do as I'm told. A thick, chemical stink begins to fill the air. It reminds me of the times I picked Penny up at the beauty shop. I clamp a hand over my nose and breathe through my mouth as Matthew rubs the dye into my scalp. I'm trying not to think about the smell, or just how good it feels to have his fingers in my hair.

It's soon over. I look in the mirror and see a black-haired stranger. Matthew's pouting again and I ignore him. I leave him to clean up and go to the room Danny gave me. Matthew appears in the doorway.

"You left this behind," he tosses me my shirt.

I fold it and put it on a nearby chair.

"Thanks," he stays where he is and I try and hurry him along, "you can go."

"Are you sure? I could stay and keep you company, maybe sing you a lullaby..."

My shoe bounces off the doorframe and he withdraws, leaving me to sleep alone.


The knock at the door comes far too early. Matthew sticks his head in.

"We need to get moving."


"Already. Get dressed and meet me in my room. One more thing, wipe everything you touched, leave no fingerprints behind."

Matthew's strapping a gun to his ankle when I come in.

"You sure you have enough guns?"

"You can never have enough guns."

"How do you walk with all that weight?"

"Practice. Did you wipe all your prints?"

"Yeah. Why did I have to do that?"

"I'll tell you when we're in the car. Let's go."

Matthew picks up his briefcase and we go downstairs. Danny's in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Matthew gets what he needs and waves away all offers of breakfast.

"Come on, Matthew, you have to eat something."

"No time, we'll eat on the road."

"Where are you going?"

The conversation that follows is confusing, full of words and phrases I don't understand. What are they saying? Do I even want to know? We say our goodbyes and go out to the car and I can't help but notice the way Matthew drags his jacket sleeve over the kitchen table and door handles as he passes, wiping his prints away. In the car I turn to him.

"What was that all about?"

He doesn't take his eyes off the road.

"I'm just being careful. You don't want your fingerprints all over another murder scene, do you?"

"Murder scene?" I feel my eyes widen, "but Danny's not dead."

"Not yet. Soon, real soon."

I'm cold all over.

"You're going to kill him."

"No, his friends are going to kill him."

"What friends?"

"The men he's selling us out to. My guess is they won't be happy when they find out everything I just told Danny was a lie."

"How do you know he's selling us out?"

"I didn't want to believe it, but I knew it the second he laid eyes on you. It was as plain as the nose on his face. I brought a stranger to his house, Dominic. Not to his office or some neutral place, like a public park, but to his house. But he wasn't upset and believe me when I say he should have been. He should have been screaming at me for breaking the rules. You don't go to a man's house, that's not the way we do things."

"But you still did it."

"I didn't have a choice. I didn't expect such a warm welcome. I thought he'd give me what I wanted and kick us out right after. I never thought he'd ask us to spend the night, but I couldn't think of a way to refuse without tipping him off."

"Is that why you wouldn't eat his food?"

"Yeah, I thought he might drug it, I couldn't take that chance."

"Where does he think we're going?"

"Back to Los Angeles to meet another friend of mine."

"What friend?"

"You've already met him. The distinguished gentleman with the knife growing out of the back of his neck."

"But he's dead."

"Danny doesn't know that."

"What would you have done if he did?"

"I would have put a bullet in his eye."

I squeeze my temples, this whole thing is giving me a headache.

"So what are we doing, Matthew?"

"We need to get some breakfast and I need to find a phone, make some calls."

"Tell me something, do you have a plan or are you just making this up as you go along?"

"Little of column A, little of column B."

We find a diner with a payphone outside it. We have breakfast and I sit in the booth, sipping coffee and looking out the window at Matthew using the phone. He hangs up, sees me watching him and winks at me. I feel my cheeks heating up as I look away and, even through the glass, I can hear him laughing. I finish my coffee and go outside.

"You're so cute when you blush, Dominic."

"What's the plan, genius?"

"We're going to an airfield. A guy I know has agreed to fly us to New York."

"Why are we going to New York?"

"Because we are, that's why."


Hell. This is Hell. I've never flown before and the plane, a bomber left over from the war, shakes and rattles all over the sky. My breakfast came back up about five minutes after we took off; now I'm sitting with my head between my knees, dry-heaving. Matthew's right beside me, rubbing my back. He's saying something to me, but I can't hear him over the roar of the engines.

We finally land and I stagger out of the plane on rubber legs. Matthew guides me along, one hand on my shoulder, the other clutching his precious, mysterious briefcase.

"It's okay, you'll be okay," Matthew's voice is gentle, "you just need to lie down."

I nod, too sick to speak. Matthew leads me out of the airfield and into a cab. We pull up outside a hotel and I stand in the lobby, trying to stay upright as Matthew gets a couple of rooms. Matthew helps me up to my room and I collapse onto the mattress with a grateful sigh. The nausea fades away and I fall into a deep sleep.


"Take a seat, I'll get us a drink."

I sit at one of the tables in the hotel lounge. I feel human again; a few hours' sleep and some food has worked miracles. Someone left a pen on the table. I pick it up and start doodling on a napkin.

"Is that Penny?" Matthew returns with two glasses.

"Hmm?" I look up from my picture, then down at it, at the girl I've drawn, "Oh. No, that's not her."

"I'm sorry I messed things up for you."

"That's okay, I know you didn't mean to."

Do you miss her?"

"Who, Penny?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

"No, I don't miss her. I thought I would but, to tell the truth, I haven't really thought about her for days."

"I thought you were in love."

"So did I. But now I'm starting to think I never loved her. I loved what she stood for."

"What was that?"

"Security. I liked the idea of being married, having a family and a nice house, all the things I never had growing up."

"Bad childhood?"

"Tough childhood. My father died when I was two, my mother raised me by herself. She worked every hour she could, but she never made much. We lived in all the bad places, the dirty, damp places with cheap rent.. Then, just before the war began, she got sick. Cancer. I couldn't go overseas to fight like my friends did, I had to stay and take care of her. Then, three years ago, she died."

"I'm sorry."

We drink in silence for awhile.

"Have you even been in love, Matthew?"


"What happened?"

"I got stabbed in the back," he shrugs, "I gave up on romance after that, no room for it in this job."

"Do you like your job, Matthew?"

"Parts of it."

"What about the other parts?"

"What about them?"

"You don't like those parts."

"No, Dominic, I don't."

"But you do them anyway."

"Yes, I do."


"Because I don't get to decide what's good and bad, right and wrong. I just do as I'm told," he takes a drink, "I said I was a mechanic, but that's not true. I'm just a tool. I go into neat little offices and meet neat little men and they tell me what's what. They tell me what I'm doing is right, that I'm serving my country, but it's easy for them. They never get their hands dirty, no blood ever splashes on them. They've never drowned a man in his bath and hidden behind the door, listening to his wife cry."

"If it bothers you so much, why do you keep doing it?"

"Because somebody has to."

He looks up. Our eyes meet and lock and something passes between us, but I couldn't say what it is, exactly. He looks away and finishes his drink.

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Dominic."

"Goodnight, Matthew."

I have one more drink before going upstairs. As I'm coming out of the elevator someone bumps my arm, hard enough to bruise. I turn to confront them, but they're already gone. I shrug and walk down the hall to my room. I'm almost there when all the spit in my mouth dries up and I begin to feel dizzy. The world gets fuzzy around the edges, goes dark ...

... hmm. Warm. Soft. Nice.

Someone's holding me, stroking the back of my neck. It feels so, so good ....

Wait - where am I? What am I doing?

I open my eyes and look into a pair of all-too-familiar blue ones.

"Good morning, beautiful."

My entire body locks up as I grasp the reality of my situation. Matthew's in my bed. I'm in his arms. I'm naked - and so is he.




Run Part VI

Apr. 3rd, 2011 05:05 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Calm)
Title: Run Part VI
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion. And Chris Evans. And Brandon Routh.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

"Give me the case."

I don't think, I just act. Dropping the briefcase, I launch myself off the seat and drive my head into his midsection. The air whooshes out of him and he falls, losing his gun. I land on him and punch him right on the chin. If this was a movie, that one punch would be enough to knock him out. But all it does is hurt my hand and piss him off. I land one more punch, on his nose this time, before his fist pistons up, hitting me in the chest.

I fall on my side, the wind knocked out of me. He straddles me, wraps his hands around my throat and starts to squeeze. I'm trying to pry his fingers loose when I hear a snapping sound and his head twists violently to the left. He collapses and I see Matthew standing over us. The sleeve of his jacket is torn and what promises to be a very nasty bruise is already forming on his jaw, but he's alive. I push my attacker away and Matthew helps me up.

"Are you alright?"

I try to answer but I'm still fighting for breath. Matthew's hand slides under my shirt and I feel his fingers on my chest, touching me gently. He's frowning in concentration and the whole thing reminds me of my last visit to the doctor.

"It doesn't feel like anything is broken. You were lucky."

He takes his hand away, turns to the door and pulls the shade down. I look at the dead man and bite my lip, trying not to giggle. A dead man in our compartment - I just had to go and tempt fate, didn't I?

"What do we do with our guest?"

Matthew steps over the body and opens the bunk compartment over the seat. He bends and grabs our friend by the ankles.

"Help me get him up here."

I grab under his arms and we lift the corpse into the bunk and Matthew closes the compartment. We sit again and he inspects the rip in his sleeve.

"It would be nice if I could make a jacket last more than a day."

I point at the compartment above his head.

"What about him?"

"He's fine, he's not going anywhere."

"Fine for how long? Don't bodies start to smell?"

"We'll be long gone by then, don't worry." He checks his watch. "We'll be gone in about fifteen minutes, we're getting off at the next stop."

He bends and takes the dead man's gun, putting it in his pocket. Then he grabs my hat from the floor and hands it to me.

"You'd better put this on. The glasses, too."

"Why? It's just you and me here."

"The conductor might come by and he might recognise you. You're a very famous man right now."

And whose fault is that? I think but don't say. I put my hat and glasses back on and feel like an even bigger idiot than I did before. Jesus, what's wrong with me? There's a dead body just above our heads and I'm worrying about how I look. A couple of days in Matthew's company and I'm becoming alarmingly casual about death. Madness must be contagious. Matthew gets up, takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the outside of the bunk and the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of fingerprints."

He opens the door and wipes the handle, then uses the handkerchief to shut the door and pull up the shade.

"When we leave, don't touch the handle with your hand. Use the sleeve of your jacket."


He looks out into the corridor.

"The conductor's on his way. Curl up in the corner, pull your hat down, pretend to be asleep. I've got the tickets, I'll do the talking."

I do as he says. I hear the door opening and a voice asking for our tickets. Matthew asks him to keep his voice down because his friend's feeling sick and doesn't want to be disturbed. The sound of a (quiet) apology and then the door shuts. Matthew taps my knee.

"You can come out now."

"Can I take off these stupid glasses?"

"Sure, why not?"

I take them off and find him smirking at me.

"You have such pretty eyes, too pretty to be hidden behind dark glasses."

I ignore him and stare out the window. The train soon slows and stops. Matthew grabs his briefcase.

"Time to go. Remember, no touching with bare hands."

I put the glasses back on and follow him. Matthew goes off to buy more train tickets and I hide in another corner. But we don't get on an another train, not right away. After what happened on the last one, Matthew's being careful. He waits until the very last minute, then grabs my arm, runs to the third platform and drags me onto the train that's just pulling out.

Matthew makes me wait in this new compartment while he walks up and down the train. I cling to the case, ready to swing it if I get another unexpected visitor. I put it down when Matthew steps in.

"I don't think we were followed."

"Are you sure?"

"No. But doesn't that make life more exciting?"

"If I wanted an exciting life, Matthew, I'd take up lion taming."

"Don't say things like that."

"Why, did I hurt your feelings?"

"No. The idea of you with a whip gets me hot."

"Everything gets you hot. Have you ever thought of going to one of those special doctors? You know, headshrinkers? Maybe you need help."

He stands and picks up the briefcase. "I need food, that's what I need. Come on, let's go to the dining car."

I leave the hat in our compartment, keep the glasses on. We find a table, the waiter comes by and we order. I wait until after our food has arrived to ask a question.

"What happened to you?"


"On the other train, what happened to you?"

He fingers the bruise on his jaw. "Oh, that. He got the drop on me."

"But he didn't kill you. Why not?"

"I think he wanted to take me alive. I guess he thought handcuffing me and leaving me in an empty compartment would be enough to stop me."

"But it wasn't."

"No, which just proves how stupid he was. If he knew anything about me, anything at all, he would have known handcuffs wouldn't hold me. He should have killed me when he had the chance."

"How did you get out of the handcuffs?"

"It's just one of my many talents."

"Some talent."

"It's saved my neck more than once. I've still got them in my pocket. I could teach you if you like."

"You just want an excuse to tie me up."

He makes a wounded face. "You think I have ulterior motives? I'm hurt, Dominic."

"Don't play the innocent with me. You already felt me up once today."

"I was checking for broken ribs!"

"Sure you were. But one thing's for sure: you won't be putting handcuffs on me."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I'm pretty sure I do, which is why I said no."

We finish our lunch and go back to our compartment. Nobody tries to kill us, which is a definite plus in my book. We get off at the third stop and I look around.

"Where are we?"

"San Diego."

"What are we doing here?"

"We need to go see a friend of mine."

"Is that safe?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm running out of money and bullets, so we'll just have to take a chance. Come on, let's get a car."

I follow him out of the station and keep watch as he steals another car. We get in and begin the journey to his friend's house and whatever we might find there.

Run Part V

Jan. 25th, 2011 09:14 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Leo)
Title: Run Part V
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion. And Chris Evans. And Brandon Routh.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.


"Don't be so childish."

"I don't trust you."

"I'm hurt."


"I saved your life."

"You're the reason it was in danger."

"I said I was sorry."

"That was big of you."

We're in a motel room, a cheap motel room. A cheap motel room with only one bed, and that's the problem. I don't want to sleep on the floor and I definitely do not want to share a bed with another man, especially this man. I don't even want to think about the things he might do to me if I let my guard down and climb into bed with him. Matthew takes a deep breath and blows it out.

"It's like this, Dominic. I'm a lot of things, but I'm no rapist. I'm not about to violate you in your sleep, if that's what you're worried about. Even if that was my thing, I'm too damn tired. You've had some bad days and, for what it's worth, I am sorry. But I've had some bad months, hell, I'm having a bad year. I'm exhausted, I need to sleep and I'm going to sleep, in this bed. You can sleep in this bed with me, or on the floor, or swinging from the chandelier. I don't really care."

I think about that for a couple of seconds. "This room doesn't have a chandelier."

He blinks. "I have a gun, you know."

"How could I forget?"

Matthew shakes his head and mutters to himself, something about why didn't he just shoot me and take my car. Then he starts to undress. I stare at him, unable to believe what I'm seeing. He takes a switchblade out of his jacket pocket and puts it on the bedside table, then takes the jacket off. His gun is in a shoulder holster, he didn't have that the other day - or, if he did, I didn't notice. Well, he was shoving a gun in my side and flirting with me. The holster comes off and I see something metallic tucked into the waistband of his pants. I think they might be knuckledusters, I've heard of such things but never seen them up close. They go on the table next to his knife and he pauses in the act of unknotting his tie.

"What? Never seen someone undress before?"

"I can't believe you carry all that stuff around. Do you have something shoved up your ass as well?"

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Was that an offer?"

I ignore the innuendo. "Just what is it you do for a living, Matthew?"

He unbuttons his shirt. "I guess you could say I'm a mechanic."

"A mechanic?"

"Yes. I fix things that need fixing."

Matthew pulls off his shirt and I suck in a breath. His chest is covered in scars, lots of little ones and one big one, just over his heart. He sits on the bed, facing away from me, to take off his shoes and pants and his back is almost as bad, with another big scar to match the one on his chest. He wasn't kidding when he said his life was exciting. Stripped to his underwear, he slips into bed. I stay where I am, weighing up the options. Oh, to hell with it. I undress quickly and get into bed, staying as far away from Matthew as I can. He doesn't try anything, I think he might be asleep already. All the excitement of the last few days catches up with me and I soon join him.

The sound of running water wakes me. Matthew walks out of the bathroom.

"Sleep well?"

I sit up. "Yeah, better than I thought I would."

"Get dressed and we'll get breakfast."

We find a diner just around the corner from the motel. Matthew tells me to order whatever I want, he'll pay. I haven't eaten properly in days, so I get everything they've got and go right to it. I finish my coffee and raise my head to find Matthew staring at me, his own coffee cup forgotten in his hand.


"A life of danger seems to agree with you, Dominic. It hasn't affected your appetite, at any rate."

I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "This is the first real meal I've had since my lunch that day."

He drops his eyes and I feel bad for bringing it up again. He's apologised, more than once as a matter of fact, he did try to warn me and he came back for me. He could have let me die and he didn't, so maybe I should stop whining about how he ruined my life. Matthew pays and we get in the car.

"Where are we going?"

"To see an associate of mine, he might be able to help us."

We stop outside a building in an unfamiliar street. Matthew takes the briefcase out of the car and we take the elevator up to the fourth floor. Halfway down the hall he stops. I start to ask what's wrong, but he puts a finger to his lips and points at the door across the hall. The door is open. Matthew takes out his gun and goes inside. I follow him into an office, or what was an office. It's been turned upside down, books and papers are everywhere and all the furniture has been smashed. Wait - not all of it. The desk and chair by the window are intact, which is more than can be said for the man on the desk. Face down, he's got a knife sticking out of his neck. I reach for it, Matthew's voice stops me.

"Don't touch it! Don't touch anything in this room!"

"We can't leave him like this, we have to something."

"Use your eyes, Dominic. We can't do anything for him, not unless you know how to raise the dead, and I have my doubts. What we need to do is get out of here. This could be a trap. Let's get moving."

We're almost at the elevator when the doors open. Matthew smacks me in the chest with the case, stopping me in my tracks.

"Stairs at the other end of the hall. Go!"

We run and I hear someone chasing us but don't dare turn around. Matthew was right, this is a trap. We take the stairs two and three at a time until we reach the ground floor. Out of the building but we're not safe yet. Two men are leaning against our car. Matthew curses, but they haven't seen us yet. We walk away and I follow Matthew as he makes random right and left turns. My head is spinning when we finally stop on a deserted street. Matthew stops at a parked car and hands me the case.

"Hold this and keep an eye out for trouble."

He takes the lockpicks out of his jacket again and slides one into the car's lock.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're stealing this car."

"Ten out of ten for observation, Dominic. Zero out of ten for stating the obvious."

He gets the door open and opens the passenger door for me. I get in and watch him fiddle with the ignition until the car starts.

"Where to now?"

"Train station. We're going to take a train."

"Now, when you say 'take a train' do you mean we're-"

"I mean we're buying tickets and going on a trip. Smartass."

"A trip to where?"

"It's a surprise. Don't you like surprises?"

"No, I don't. Not your surprises. The way our luck's going, there'll probably be a dead body in our compartment."

"If there is, I'll deal with it."

"Of course you will. How do you get to be so calm about these things?"

"All part of the job."

"The job. And just how did you get into this job? Who are you, Matthew? What's your story?"

"That's a long and involved tale and we really don't have time now. But I might tell you about it. In bed, after a night of love."

"Don't you ever stop?"

"I can't help myself. I told you, I've got a thing for blonds."

"Well, find another blond. You'll never get your hands on me."

"Never say never, Dominic. Something tells me that before all this is over, you'll be begging me to make love to you."

"You overestimate your attractiveness."

"You underestimate yours."

I can't think of an answer to that and he lets the matter drop. Matthew parks the car and we enter the station. A man just inside the main door has a newspaper open in front of his face and my stomach turns over when I see my face on the front page. WANTED FOR MURDER reads the headline. I turn to Matthew.

"Now what?"

"Go stand in that corner, don't look at anyone. I'll be right back."

I do as he says and look down at my shoes. Please, don't let anyone report me.

"Here, put these on."

Matthew's got a hat and a pair of sunglasses in his free hand, I'm guessing he bought them at the newspaper stand.

"This is the best you can do?"

"What else do you want?"

"Something better than this. A real disguise."

"Yeah. Someone wearing a disguise, Dominic, you know what they look like?"


"Like a person wearing a disguise. We might be able to do more later, we could dye your hair black, even if it would be a shame to ruin those lovely, blond locks. But for now, this will have to do."

I put the hat and sunglasses on. I feel like an idiot and Matthew's mouth twitches, he's obviously trying not to laugh.

"I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"Better ridiculous than under arrest, or dead. Let's go, I've got the tickets."

I follow him to the platform and onto the train. It starts to move and Matthew relaxes into his seat. But the peace doesn't last, that would be too easy. We've been on the move for about an hour when Matthew straightens up. I follow his gaze and see a shadow pass the door once, twice, three times. He stands and gives me the case again.

"Sit tight, I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

He leaves and I cling to the case, waiting for him to return. I hear the door open and relax my grip. But my relief is short-lived. It's not Matthew: another man is standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at me. Where the hell is Matthew? The man reads my mind.

"Looking for Bellamy? Don't bother. I already took care of him. He can't help you now."
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Run Part IV
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

Okay, so this is my attempt at a Hitchcock thriller, something like The 39 Steps or North By Northwest. Only, y'know, nowhere near as good. Btw, there is a really excellent stage version of The 39 Steps with a four man cast, if anyone gets a chance to check it out I really recommend it.

It's a stupid question, I know it is, but I can't help myself. I point at the man on the floor. "Is he dead?"

"I shot him in the head, that usually works."

"Who is he? What did he want?"

"I didn't get a chance to ask him." He kicks the dead man's hand and a gun falls out of it. "But I don't think he wanted to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight."

"And why are you here?"

He smirks as his eyes travel over my body. "Oh honey, I just couldn't stop thinking about you."

I feel my face heat up and I fold my arms across my chest, not that it'll do much good. It's a hot night so I didn't bother with pyjamas, just shorts. I've never felt so exposed. He moves out of the doorway, towards me, and I take a step back.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. But we don't have much time. You'd better get dressed and come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Fine, stay here. Have fun in prison. A good looking guy like you will be very popular there."


"Yes, prison. That's where murderers go. Didn't they teach you that where you went to school?"

"But I didn't kill anyone!"

"No? Think about it for a minute, about how it looks. There's a dead man in your apartment and I'm not sticking around to explain. You think anyone will believe you're innocent? Did you have so much fun today that you want to do it all again?"

That decides me. There's no way I'm getting arrested again, not if I can help it. I get dressed and follow him. Just as we reach my front door, which he left open, we hear the rattle of footsteps on concrete.

"Get down!"

He shoves me to the ground as something thuds into the doorframe, showering me with splinters. He empties his gun into the darkness before hauling me up and dragging me with him as he runs down my front path and onto the sidewalk. I'm gasping for breath and I feel a stitch settle into my side as I struggle to keep up with him.

We reach a car, it must be his because he opens the door and shoves me in before getting in himself. We take off in a screech of tires and I cling to the dashboard as he races through the streets, taking corners at suicidal speeds. This wild ride lasts maybe ten minutes at most but, to me, it feels like a lifetime. But he must think we're safe now because he slows down and lets the car straighten out. I'm startled by the sudden sound of laughter.

"That was fun. Wasn't that fun?"

Fun? That's it, I've had enough. I aim a punch at his face, a punch that doesn't connect. His eyes never leave the road, but his hand shoots out and there's a dull smacking sound as my fist strikes his palm. He bends my wrist back, not quite far enough to cause pain, but I get the message: he could really hurt me if he wanted to.

"Don't do that again." His voice is cold and he glances at me before turning his attention back to the road. "I know you're angry and I don't blame you, you have every right to be. But that doesn't mean you can throw tantrums. Now, you have two choices: you can sit up here and behave yourself, or I can tie you up, gag you and shove you in the trunk. What's it going to be?"

"I'll behave."

"Good boy."

He releases my hand and I settle down. We ride along in silence for a little while.

"What happened to your cheek?"

I touch Penny's bruise, the scab left by her nails. "My girl slapped me. Wait - she's not my girl anymore."

"She's not?"

"No, she's not, and it's all because of you."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you? Are you really? That's nice. Everything's gone to hell since I met you. I've been arrested, I've lost my job, my girl and, just to add to the fun, I'm wanted for murder. My life's floating in a toilet bowl right now, you put it there, but that's okay, just so long as you're sorry."

"Oh please, don't hold back, tell me how you really feel. You could try looking on the bright side."

"There's a bright side?"

"Sure there is. You're still alive, aren't you?"

"And that should be enough for me, that's what you're saying?"

"It's enough for me. Every day that ends with me still in one piece is a good day for me."

"You must live an exciting life."

"You have no idea."

"They said you were a traitor."

"Who did?"

"Them - your friends, the ones chasing you, the ones drooling over me today."

"Oh, them. Well Dominic, a man like you should know that things aren't always what they seem."

"A man like me?"

"You work in movies, or you did, so you should know all about the difference between what a thing looks like and what it really is, about dressing up lies and selling them to people."

"I'm not following you."

He sighs. "Okay, try it like this. These men, they said all the right things, they waved fancy badges around and it was enough for the cops, enough to get you thrown in a cell. But talk is cheap and badges mean nothing. They give badges away in boxes of cereal."

"So they weren't who they said they were?"

"Now you're getting it. They put on a good show, but that's all it was, a show. Nothing but smoke and mirrors. Lies are their business."

My head is starting to hurt. "Okay, let's say I believe you. How did they know my name, where I live, where I work?"

"The same way I did, they traced your license plate."

"That's how you found me?"


"I don't think that's fair"

"What's not fair?"

"You knowing so much about me when I know nothing about you."

"Trust me, Dominic, the less you know about me, the safer you'll be."

"You say that, but knowing nothing about you didn't stop a man sneaking into my apartment with a gun. Please, tell me something, anything, your name would do."

"Alright, if it'll get you off my back. My name's Matthew. Matthew Bellamy. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic. So tell me, Matthew Bellamy, where are we going, or is it a surprise?"

"We're going to get my briefcase."

"And where is your briefcase?"

"Where I left it: the back seat of your car."

"My car got towed."

"I know, I was watching. That's why we're going to the impound lot."

Wait, you knew your case was in my car all along? I mean, you didn't come to my house thinking it was there?"

"No, I came to your place to get you."


"Because I felt bad about getting you in a jam when all you did was try and help me."

"You didn't exactly give me a choice. As I recall, there was a gun involved."

"That's true. But you wanted to take me to a hospital when you saw I was hurt. Not many people in your position would have done the same, so let's just say I feel like I owe you."

The conversation ends there. When we reach our destination we both get out and I briefly consider running away from him. But what's the point? Where would I go? He takes a flashlight out of the trunk and, when we get to the gate, he passes it to me.

"Here, make yourself useful, shine this on the lock."

I do as I'm told, he pulls a leather case from the inside pocket of his coat and takes out something small and shiny. That must be a lockpick. I guessed right: He goes to work on the lock and it soon clicks open. How did he get so good at stuff like this?

It takes fifteen minutes of careful searching before we find my car. He hops into the back, pulls out two briefcases and puts the one in his right hand on the ground. "That one's mine." He holds up his left hand. "This is yours, right?"

"That would make sense, since it's in my car."

He ignores me as he throws my briefcase back in the car.

"Why did you do that?"

"I'm buying us some time. The men questioning you, the man in your apartment, they're all after this case right here. They think you're working with me and they think I passed it to you. If they track down your car, and I'm pretty sure they will, they'll think they've found what they're looking for. That should keep them busy for at least one day, two if we're lucky."

He strides out of the lot and I follow him back to his car. I don't know what he's planning, or where we're going - hell, I don't even know if anything he told me was true. But I have to stay with him. What choice do I have?
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Run Part III
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard. And Nathan Fillion  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

Okay, so this is my attempt at a Hitchcock thriller, something like The 39 Steps or North By Northwest. Only, y'know, nowhere near as good. Btw, there is a really excellent stage version of The 39 Steps with a four man cast, if anyone gets a chance to check it out I really recommend it.

Did I think yesterday was the worst day of my life? Did I really? Shows what I know. The men who tackled me at the studio brought me to this place, I guess it's a police station, they took my belt, tie and shoelaces and then they threw me in a cell. Why the shoelaces? I can understand the tie and belt, but - shoelaces? Who ever heard of a man hanging himself with his shoelaces?

They let me stew for awhile and then I'm taken into another room, shoved in a chair, my hands behind my back and cuffed again. Two men come in, I think they're the guys from yesterday, the ones chasing my passenger. It's a little hard to tell; the room is dark, shadowy, lit by one weak lightbulb and they keep moving around, so all I really see is their backs. Two voices, but I can't tell them apart.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Howard. Start with what happened yesterday."

I tell my story and then I tell it again. They just can't get enough of it and they make me tell it a third time.

"What do you think? Do we believe him?"

"I don't know. Smells a bit funny to me, it doesn't add up."

"Please, I've told you everything I know, what do you want from me?"

"The truth."

"I've told you the truth!"

"Have you?"

"Yes!" My shirt is soaked right through and I can smell all the alcohol I drank yesterday, oozing out of my skin. "I want to talk to a lawyer."

"A lawyer? Now that's interesting. Only guilty men, men with things to hide, want lawyers."

"Guilty? Guilty of what?"

"Fraternizing with a known traitor, an enemy of the State."

"I didn't have a choice! He had a gun!"

"That's what you say. We didn't see a gun, just the two of you in your car, looking real cozy."

"I'm telling you, I don't know him! I don't even know his name. Who is he, what has he done?"

"We'll ask the questions. Why didn't you go to the police? A man kidnapped you, he threatened you with a gun, so why didn't you report it?"

"I don't know, it rattled me, I wasn't thinking straight."

"So you had a few drinks, just to steady your nerves."


"Or is that what you want us to think? Maybe you're a courier, passing secrets from one traitor to another. Maybe you went to that bar to meet your contact."

"No! I went to a bar, I got drunk, a friend drove me home. That's all there is to it."

The handcuffs are cutting my wrists. I should stop pulling at them but I can't help myself. The next question comes right out of left field.

"What did you do in the war, Mr. Howard?"


"The war, what did you do? Did you serve overseas?"

"Oh. No, I didn't go."

"So you're a draft dodger."

"It wasn't like that. My mother was dying, I had to take care of her."


If I could move I would punch the man who said that. As it is, I have to bite my tongue to stop myself making things worse. Is that even possible?

"You work for RKO, right?"


"And we've talked to some of the other customers in the bar last night, they heard you make several negative statements about your employer. What gives you the right to judge Mr. Hughes and the fine work he does?"

"I didn't know what I was saying. I was drunk."

"That's no excuse. Know what I think? I think you're a draft-dodging Commie-lover. You might even be a full-blown Red, a dirty Red traitor."

"No, that's not true!"

They must be getting bored because the interrogation stops there and they leave the room. I sit, waiting for the nightmare to end. They come back.

"Cut him loose. We'll be watching you, Mr. Howard, so stay out of trouble. Don't pick up any more strangers."

They let me go, I don't get my belt, shoelaces and tie back. I don't push it, I'm just happy to be free. I stumble outside, find a payphone and call Chris. My wrists burn, I scratch them while I wait for him. He doesn't come alone: Penny is hot on his heels, driving her mother's car. She strides up to me and, before I can say anything, she slaps my face, her nails cutting my cheek.

"Bastard! How dare you humiliate me like this! You spend all day drinking when you're supposed to be having dinner with us, you hang up on me when I call, and now you're getting arrested. It's too much."

"Please, let me explain-"

"No! I don't want to hear it. It's over, Dominic. You're obviously not the man I thought you were. I'll send your ring back to you."

She turns on her heel and marches back to her car, almost hitting Chris, who's leaning against his own car, as she drives off. He looks at me and it's like I can read his mind: he feels sorry for me, but he's so glad none of this is happening to him.

"I'm sorry, Dominic. She was there when you called, I couldn't keep her away."

"It's not your fault, it's just been that kind of day. At least it can't get any worse, right?"

Chris clears his throat and looks down at his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"I have a message for you." He's still looking down at his feet. "Don't bother coming to work tomorrow, or ever again. If you ever set foot on the studio lot again you'll be thrown out." He finally looks up at me but doesn't say anything. What else is there to say?

I rub my eyes. "Just take me home, Chris." He does. When we get to my place he turns to me. "Do you want to come and stay with me tonight? Maybe you shouldn't be alone."

"I appreciate the offer, but I think that's just what I need. I'd like to have a quiet evening without anyone arresting me or waving guns at me."

"Alright, but call me if you need anything."

"I will."

I fix myself something to eat, listen to the radio for awhile and go to bed early. I feel like I could sleep for a week.

Something wakes me, I'm not sure what it is at first. Then, as I'm getting out of bed, I hear a gunshot and a scream, then something hitting the floor. I turn on the light and open the bedroom door. I don't believe this: it's him, the stranger with the blue eyes. He's standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand, a body at his feet. He makes a tutting sound.

"I thought I told you to run."

Run Part II

Sep. 2nd, 2010 07:04 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Run Part II
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

Okay, so this is my attempt at a Hitchcock thriller, something like The 39 Steps or North By Northwest. Only, y'know, nowhere near as good.

How many drinks have I had? I try to count the empty glasses on the table. Two, four ... seven? I can't get much beyond three without getting confused so I just give up and try to enjoy my buzz. It's hopeless; everytime I blink I see him, the stranger with the blue eyes. Damn him, why did he have to pick on me?

The whole thing shook me up so bad I couldn't go back to work. There wasn't much point since he took my jacket and I couldn't go back without one, it wouldn't look right. Going home to change would have taken too long so what the hell, I decided to take the rest of the day off and get myself a drink. Christ knows I needed one.

A shadow falls over the table and I look up to find Chris, a friend from work, staring at me and all my glasses. He doesn't look too happy. "So this is where you've been hiding all afternoon! I've been looking all over for you. Then I saw your car parked outside." Chris takes a seat opposite me, the waitress comes by and he orders a drink of his own. "Well, when I say I saw your car parked outside, what I should have said was I saw your car being towed away from outside here."


"You parked beside a fire hydrant, Dominic, and right under the NO PARKING sign, so what did you expect?"

Great, that's all I need. Guess I'll be taking a cab home.

"Oh, and your girl's been calling me, something about you standing her up." Oh God, I completely forgot. We were supposed to be having dinner with her parents this evening. She's going to kill me. If my boss doesn't beat her to the punch.

The waitress comes back with his drink and Chris pays her. "Talk to me, Dominic. Blowing everyone off, spending the day in a bar all by yourself, it's not like you. So spill it." I can trust Chris, he's always been a good friend, so I tell him all about it, or almost all about it. I keep the flirting and touching to myself. But it's still not coming out right, maybe because I've drunk too much or it sounds too ridiculous to be true. Either way Chris isn't buying it.

"I know how it sounds, Chris, but it really did happen."

"So let me get this straight: a man jumps into your car, pulls a gun on you, gets you to drive him around and then he just leaves. Without stealing your wallet or your car?"

"He took my jacket."

"Your jacket? Why?"

"He didn't have one of his own. But he asked me for it, he didn't steal it."

"A polite thief. I love it." Chris picks up one of the empty glasses and bounces it in the palm of his hand. "Are you sure you didn't dream this guy up? Maybe he came out of one of these glasses."

"You think this is a fairytale? I'm not that drunk and why would I do that? Why would I tell such a crazy story if it wasn't true?"

He sips his own drink. "I don't know. Maybe you felt like having a free afternoon. I know you don't much like your work at the studio."

"I could come up with a better excuse than this, I could have called in sick or something. And RKO isn't really a studio, not these days. It's just a toy for Howard Hughes to play with."

Chris looks around, trying to see if anyone's reacting to what I just said. I really should keep stuff like that to myself but, right now, I'm too drunk to care.

"Lower your voice, people will hear."

"Who gives a damn? You know I'm right. All Hughes cares about is using the studio to help him chase girls and show everyone how much he hates Reds. He's running it into the ground and, when it's gone, he'll just move onto something new." I've been waving my hands around as I talk and I knock two glasses to the ground where they shatter. The bartender starts to come over, probably planning to throw me out on my ass. Chris takes the hint and gets up, pulling me with him. He throws some money on the table to cover the damage and marches me out of the bar.

Chis drives me home since my car is gone and, even if it wasn't, I'm in no condition to drive. I'd like to thank him for this and apologize for getting all pissy with him in the bar. I can't blame him for not believing my story, would I believe him if I was in his shoes? I'd like to say all this, but I think I'm about to puke, so I just pull the door open and shake my head when he asks if I need help getting inside. He drives off and I throw up in the bushes outside my house. Truly, this has been the best day of my life.

I get inside and my phone starts to ring. I pick it up and hear a man's voice, one word: "Run." Then the line goes dead. I stare at the receiver before replacing it. What the hell? Was it the man from earlier? How could it be? He doesn't know my name so how could he know my phone number? It must be some kind of prank call.

The phone rings again and I snatch it up, thinking it must be the mystery caller again. But it's Penny, screaming about me letting her and her parents down. Okay, yes, I shouldn't have done that and she has every right to be angry with me. But I just can't handle this right now. What promises to be a really rotten hangover is already beginning to kick in and her voice is cutting through my brain like a dentist's drill, so I hang up and take the phone off the hook for good measure. I fall face down on the couch and pass out.

Morning brings pain like I've never known. I crawl off the couch and stumble over to the window to shut the blinds. This would be easier if I could see what I was doing, but if light hits my eyes my brain will explode and I'll die. I fumble with the blinds for a good ten minutes before I feel it's safe to open my eyes. I sit in the dark room for a little while before I remember I have work and need to get ready. I swallow some aspirin and try to make myself presentable. I only eat half my breakfast, all my stomach can handle.

No car, so I take a cab to work. I'm walking through the studio's main gate, trying to remember just how many people I need to apologize to for yesterday when I'm grabbed and shoved to the ground. My arms are pulled behind my back, I hear the click of handcuffs and a voice. "Dominic Howard? You're under arrest."

Run Part I

Aug. 12th, 2010 09:31 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Run Part I
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. LA, 1951. Dominic Howard is an average guy living an average life. Until a blue-eyed stranger jumps into his car and holds him at gunpoint...
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, I just like to have fantasy orgies with them. And David Tennant. And Matt Smith. And Russell Howard.  And almost the entire male cast of True Blood. It's getting crowded in there.

Okay, so this is my attempt at a Hitchcock thriller, something like The 39 Steps or North By Northwest. Only, y'know, nowhere near as good.

"Drive." I stare, open-mouthed, at the man in the passenger seat. I've never seen him before in my life and yet he saw fit to jump into my car and demand a ride. This is ... well, I don't know what this is, but I don't have to stand for it. I finally find my voice.

"Look here, mister. You can't just jump into people's cars and expect them to drive you around. This isn't a cab! Just who in the hell do you think you are?"

Something hard and cold is shoved into my side and a pair of ice-blue eyes bore into mine. "I'm the man with a gun in his hand. Now do what I say." I tear my gaze away from his and see two men approaching the car. He sees them too: the gun digs even further into my side and his voice takes on a desperate edge. "I said drive!"

I do as he says and the men outside beat a hasty retreat, probably back to a car of their own. But we're already gone. My mysterious passenger relaxes a little. The gun is withdrawn and he throws his briefcase in the back seat. I clear my throat. What exactly are you supposed to say to someone who's just - and there's really no other way to put this - kidnapped you at gunpoint? "Where do you want to go?"

"It doesn't matter. Just keep driving."

"What's your name?"

"You don't need to know."


"I don't want to know."

That pretty much kills the conversation right there. I'm trying to keep all my attention on the road, but I can't help myself, I keep sneaking glances at him. He's slightly smaller than me, and a lot thinner. Dark hair, a pale face and those beautiful blue eyes. Wait a minute. Did I just call a man beautiful? Get a hold of yourself, Howard! It's just temporary insanity, the pressure of the situation I've suddenly found myself in. Yeah. That's all it is.

He's staring at me, I can feel it and I find myself shifting in my seat as I drive. He obviously senses my discomfort. "Am I making you nervous?"

"Yes! You keep staring at me! I'm doing what you want, so why do you have to keep looking at me like that?"

He moves closer to me and a playful tone creeps into his voice. "Why shouldn't I look at you? You're an attractive man." I can feel myself blushing and I yelp as his finger flicks my earlobe. "A very attractive man." The finger trails down my neck. "I've always had a thing for blonds. We could have so much fun together. Get a hotel room, just the two of us, and really make a night of it. What do you say?"

"I'm engaged!"

"That wasn't a no."

I'm sweating now and he's still touching me. He pulls away suddenly. "Relax, I'm just having fun with you." I let out the breath I didn't even realise I was holding. He's not wearing a jacket and, out of the corner of my eye, I see red leaking through his shirt.

"You're hurt."

"What?" He looks down at himself. "So I am. I guess I didn't notice in all the excitement." He pulls his shirt open and inspects the damage. "It's nothing, just a little scratch. Got anything in here I could mop this up with?"

"There should be some clean rags in the glovebox."

He leans forward. "I'm trusting you. But if you try anything funny, I'll splatter your brains all over this nice car of yours and believe me, that shit never comes out. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. Understand?" I swallow thickly and nod. "Good boy." He opens the glovebox and paws through it until he finds the rags. He presses them against the wound and closes his shirt. "That's better."

"You should get a doctor to look at that. I could take you to a hospital."

"I appreciate the offer, but there's no need. I'll be fine. Pull over." I do as I'm told. "This'll do. Thanks for the ride. Sorry if I messed up your day, but I really didn't have a choice." He tugs at my jacket, which I took off and draped over my seat before I got in the car. "Can I borrow this?"

I nod and he pulls it on. "Be seeing you." He winks at me before jumping out of the car as quickly as he jumped in, leaving me speechless. What the hell just happened?"


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