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Run Part III
Oct. 7th, 2010 09:10 pmTitle: 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."
"Yes."
"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?"
"What?"
"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."
"Convenient."
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?"
"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."
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."
"Yes."
"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?"
"What?"
"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."
"Convenient."
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?"
"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."
