Run Part IV

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."

"Prison?"

"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?"

"Yes."

"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."

"Why?"

"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?