May. 15th, 2011

hannah_chapter1: (Dunecat)
Title: Shadows Part X
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU. Sequel to Temptation. Dom's POV. Ten years have passed and Dom and Matt have made a life together. But when his past comes back to haunt him, how far will Dom go to keep Matt safe?
Feedback: Always welcome.
Disclaimer: Oh so very, very fake.


My father pushes open a door. "This is your room."

I go inside and open a window. The room smells bad, stale. With the window open I can hear the sounds of the city: sirens, cats screeching and people fighting. I think I prefer the bad smell.

Daddy leans against the door. "The bathroom is down the hall."

"Fine."

"We've got your friend locked up pretty tight. I put three locks on the door. Now I know you're good with locks, or you used to be, but don't even think about trying to break him out. Step out of line, he's the one that pays the price."

"You said all this already. I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid. I got it the first time."

"I'm sure you did but I thought I should say it again. Remember Dominic, I want to hurt him, I really, really do. I just need a reason."

I push past him.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Just out." I turn and look back at him. "What do you care? You know I won't run away, not with that chain you've got around my ankle."

He doesn't answer so I leave him where he is as I walk down the stairs and out the front door. Standing in the middle of the street, I flex my fingers. I need to find some bars. It's time to go back to work.

*************************************************************************

The first two hours don't go so well. I'm careful and I only pick the worst kind of drunks, the ones that are so liquored up they don't know where they are or even what day it is. But I still fuck up. My hand doesn't go all the way into the pocket or, if it does, my fingers just graze the wallet inside. But I keep going and, sure enough, it starts to come back to me. I hook one wallet, then two, then three. My confidence grows with every one I lift and, by the time I decide to call it a night, I've left the drunks far behind. I'm robbing people who are stone, cold sober, taking their stuff and disappearing long before they even begin to suspect.

I go back to the house and it's dark and quiet, with no sign of Daddy or his goons. I'd like to go down to Matt but I don't dare. Not yet. I go back up to the room and sit on the bed. I go through the wallets I took, taking the money and dumping them on the floor when they're empty. I did well tonight.

It might seem strange that I would pick up the skill again so quickly, especially when I've been away for so many years. But it's not, not really. Remember, this, what I did tonight, that's all I ever knew, from the minute I could walk and talk right up until I met Matt and quit the life. I could steal a wallet before I could write my own name. I knew it would be so easy to fall back into this and that's why I tried so hard to be good.

Because the simple truth of it is, I was made for a crooked life. I was born to it, I'm good at it and I enjoy it: when everything comes together it feels so damn good. It beats the hell out of working for a living. Honest life is hard, running a business is hard. There's a hundred things to take care of each and every day and a million things to argue about. Should we try and get our beer cheaper somewhere else or stay with our regular supplier? Can we afford to expand and is it worth it? Should we give the bar a name? What name? We never did get around to that. It doesn't really need a name anyway, not when it's the only bar in Salvation.

Thinking of our place makes me think of Matt and I pull his watch out of my pocket and run my finger over the silver case. There isn't a scratch on it - Matt takes such good care of it, he always keeps it wrapped up in a soft cloth so it won't get all scratched up in his pocket. I can still remember the look on his face and the way he kissed me when I gave it to him. And I remember the day I bought it, I was so proud of myself. I could have stolen it right out of the case but I didn't. I walked into the store and bought it, just like any other man would.

I look at the watch and I make a promise: I'll go back to the old ways and I'll do what I have to do to get Matt out of this nightmare and then I'm done with it. All of it. I don't care how easy it is or how good it makes me feel. I worked too hard to just give it all up. A shadow falls across the bed - Daddy, standing in the doorway again. He sees the money on the bed and the empty wallets on the floor and he smiles.

"That's my boy."

I wonder, would he look so proud if he knew how badly I want to spit in his eye?

*******************************************************************************************

Daddy and all but one of his precious boys are at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. I stand by the stove, pushing food around a plate. Sal took a plate down to Matt about ten minutes ago. Now he staggers into the kitchen with his hand over his nose and blood leaking through his fingers. Daddy's jaw drops.

"What happened to you?"

Sal drops into an empty chair. His voice is muffled by the hand still holding his nose. "Fucking cripple. I was just having a little fun with him."

I dump my plate on the stove and Daddy stands and points a warning finger. "Stay where you are." He turns back to Sal. "What did you do?"

"I just asked him to give me a blowjob. I thought he'd be grateful." Sal takes his hand away from his nose and looks at the blood on it. "Shit, I think my nose is broken."

Daddy grabs Sal by the back of the neck and smashes his face into the table. "There," he says as Sal falls to the floor, "now it's really broken."

He turns on the rest of his pack. "What did I tell you? How many times did I say it? Don't mess with the cripple unless I tell you to mess with the cripple. Or have you forgotten how this works. I tell you what to do and you do it!"

His voice rises to a shout. "You fucking morons, you'd be nothing without me! I do the thinking around here, I make the plans. Because we all know what we get when you dopes try and think for yourselves. A vault full of dead fucking bodies, that's what we get!"

Any one of them could break Daddy right in half but they're all biting their lips and staring at the floor while he rants and raves. I walk out of the room, leaving my cold food on the stove. I'm smiling as I walk down the hall, a proud and happy smile. Against the whole mob he wouldn't have a prayer but, one on one, my man can take care of himself.

*********************************************************************************************

I take the money I stole and put it to good use. I buy Matt some books to pass the time, some clothes and nice blankets. I even get him a pillow. Daddy takes it all down to him and, as I'm in the kitchen making a sandwich, I hear Daddy bringing Matt up to the bathroom. I'd know the sound of Matt's footsteps anywhere, the shuffling sound he makes when he comes down on the bad leg. The door isn't shut right and I see Matt's hair and his hand as they walk past the kitchen. I don't move. It's only when they've come out of the bathroom and gone back down to the basement that I realise my fingernails have made marks in the wood of the table. Daddy comes back upstairs and throws a bundle at me.

"Here. You wanted to do laundry, so do laundry."

I pull the bundle apart: Matt's clothes, the ones he was wearing when they took him. As I unfold the shirt I get an idea. I wait until Daddy's back is turned and then I shove Matt's shirt under my own and smuggle it upstairs. I spread it on my pillow and bury my face in it. The old familiar smell fills my nostrils, a mix of sweat, hair oil, beer. It smells like Matt. It smells like home. I pull the shirt off the pillow, put it on and lie down. I can feel myself falling asleep and it's almost like having Matt in bed with me.

Almost.

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