Run Part VI

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."

"Okay."

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?"

"Hmm?"

"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.