Same As It Ever Was Part Four

Title: Same As It Ever Was Part IV
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 15/R
Feedback: Yes please.
Summary: AU. Something is wrong in Matt Bellamy's life. In all his lives. He appears to move between worlds, but how? Which world is the real one? Is he just insane? And where does Dom Howard fit into all of this? Title taken from "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse and this never happened.


The naked man curls up on the floor. Against the brilliant white tiles he looks like a bloody human comma. Matthew kneels beside him.

"I admire you, Howard, I do. I've broken so many people in this room. But not you."

The prisoner remains silent and Matthew sighs.

"Why are you doing this? I'm not going to get bored and give up. If I can't break you here I'll break you in one of the others. The blue room or maybe the red, I've got some nice toys in that one. I will break you, of that you can be sure."

Howard raises his right hand and gives Matthew the finger.

"That won't help you."

The light bounces off the heavy, gold ring on Howard's middle finger. Matthew grabs his wrist and pulls the ring off.

"This isn't yours. You gave up the right to wear it when you turned traitor."

Matthew stands, putting the ring in his pocket as he does so. He beckons his men over.

"Clean him up, treat his wounds and give him something to wear. We'll give him a week to rest, then it's the blue room for him."

Matthew leaves the white room and goes back up to his office. He.

...sits

...on

...his

neighbour's couch and sips the water the other man gave him. Dom sits on the arm of the couch, a worried look on his face.

"I still think I should call a doctor."

"No, no doctors."

"Your girlfriend, then."

"No."

Dom falls silent, thinking.

"What about a cup of tea, then?"

"That sounds good."

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Milk, two sugars."

"I'll be right back.

Matt puts his water on the floor beside the couch and looks around as Dom busies himself in the kitchen. His neighbour's tidy, he'll give him that. Books and remote controls are lined up neatly on the coffee table. There's a desk in the corner with a laptop, printer and a stack of pages on it. Dom comes back in with two mugs of tea. He sits beside Matt and hands him one. Matt raises the mug to his lips. The tea is hot and strong, just the way he likes it. They drink in silence and Matt tries to think of something to say.

"What do you do, Dom? Besides wash your car, I mean."

"I write."

"Where does the car-washing fit in?"

"Helps me think, it's a zen thing."

"What kind of writing?"

"Short stories, articles. I'm working on a book, but I haven't gotten very far."

"What's your book about?"

"A man who can body surf."

"Body surf?"

"Yeah. His mind can jump into other worlds and other versions of him. Sometimes, and this is the clever bit, he jumps into the same body at different points of the same timeline."

"Sounds interesting."

"It will be if I ever get the fucking thing finished."

Matt finishes his tea.

"Why are you doing this, Dom?"

"Doing what?"

"Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you didn't like me."

"Not liking you is one thing. Not giving a shit when I see you collapse in my driveway is quite another. What makes you think I don't like you?"

"You're rude to me every single time I see you. And you laughed at me when I fell over my bin that time."

Dom looks uncomfortable. He puts his mug on the coffee table and dry-scrubs his face with the side of his hand.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. But I don't hate you, I hate your girlfriend. You just got caught in the crossfire. She's always sending you over here to bitch at me."

"You go out of your way to wind her up."

"True. But she started it, didn't she?"

Matt thinks back to the day Dom moved in. The other man parked a van across their drive while he moved stuff. It didn't bother Matt, but Mandy couldn't park when she got home from work. Matt came out and found her screaming abuse at their new neighbour, who was giving as good as he got. Even then he thought she was going too far. Matt puts his mug on the coffee table beside Dom's.

"I suppose she did."

Dom looks at him thoughtfully.

"But that's not all of it."

"No?"

"No. I can hear the two of you through my bedroom wall sometimes. It drives me mad."

"Why?"

"I'm jealous."

"But you hate Mandy."

"Who said anything about Mandy?"

Before Matt can even begin to think of a reply Dom's lips are on his. Shock freezes him to the spot as the other man's tongue slips into his mouth. Dom's hand brushes against Matt's groin and Matt shoves him away and

...tries

...to

...stand

up but one of the other officers grabs his shoulder and pushes him back into his chair. Inspector Wolstenholme clears his throat impatiently.

"Do you want a lawyer?"

<Dom looked out the window. "It's such a lovely day," he said.">

"Do you want to make a statement?"

Matt shakes his head.

"Alright. Take him away, a few hours in a cell might change his mind."

They take him out and throw him in a cell. He crawls onto the bed and curls into a ball.

<Dom looked out the window. "It's such a lovely day," he said.>

Oh, why can't he get that out of his head?

Murderer.

Matt's head snaps up. Dom's voice - but where is he?

Psycho.

Matt squeezes his temples. The voice is in his head.

You killed me.

"No!"

Yes. You killed me, Matt.

"I didn't, I wouldn't..."

You would. You did. You bashed my skull in and watched me die on the kitchen floor. What did I do to deserve that? I loved you, I supported you, I put up with your moodswings and this is how you repay me?

Matt sticks his fingers in his ears but the voice is inside his head and he can't block it out. It's almost a relief when he's taken out of the cell, cuffed and brought back to the interview room. Inspector Wolstenholme is already there. Matt sits at the table and the inspector looks up from his notes.

"You are Matthew Bellamy."

<Dom looked out the window. "It's such a lovely day," he said.">

Oh, brilliant. Dom's voice has faded out of his head but now he's back to that. Maybe he really has gone crazy.

"You're unemployed."

Matt shrugs.

"You lived with Dominic Howard. He was your lover."

Matt shrugs again.

"Why did you kill him?"

Matt's mouth moves but no sound comes out. He knows there's an explanation, there has to be, but the period between Dom standing at the window and Dom dying on the floor is blank.

<Dom looked out the window. "It's such a lovely day," he said.>

Inspector Wolstenholme plucks a file from the floor, opens it and takes out some photos. He spreads them out on the table like a winning poker hand. Pictures of Dom, pictures of the hammer, of the scratches on Matt's face.

"We caught you with the murder weapon in your hand. His blood and skin was under your fingernails and yours was under his."

The inspector taps a photo, a close-up of a hand.

"See this? The way the fingers are bent and broken? We call them defensive wounds. He must have put up quite a fight. But you didn't let that stop you, did you?"

Oh, why can't Matt remember anything? The inspector picks up the file again and opens it.

"I would like to get a statement from you, but I don't really need one. I have all the evidence I need to put you away for life right here. I have statements from your neghbours and I've got plenty of forensic."

Wolstenholme places more photos on the table, more corpses. But Matt's never seen these people before.

Has he?

He looks into the policeman's eyes, which are bright with hate.

"What I want to know, Mr. Bellamy," he hisses, venom dripping from every word, "is how your fingerprints and DNA showed up at all these other crime scenes. A fight with your boyfriend getting out of hand is one thing. But this is serial killer territory. Is that what you are? A fucking psycho killer?"

Matt shoves away from the table and

...rattles

...the

...cuffs

on his wrist and looks at the doctor expectantly. The other man is sitting at his bedside again, drinking a glass of water. He puts the glass on the floor and Matt rattles his cuffs again.

"Let me out."

"You know I can't do that."

"You said you'd help me."

"I did. I will."

"But you can't help me unless I talk to you."

"True."

"How can I trust you, doctor, when you obviously don't trust me? Please, let me out and let's talk face to face. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Dom thinks about it. Release a patient he knows is violent? Foolish, not to mention dangerous. But he wants to help Matt, he really does and this might be the only way. If he refuses the patient might stop talking again and then they'll be back to square one. Dom stands and unfastens the leg restraints. He half expects Matt to lash out once his legs are free but the patient just lies there. Dom frees his hands and steps back, ready to run if he has to. But Matt doesn't attack. He sits up and rests his back against the wall, rubbing his wrists.

"Better?"

"Much better. Thank you."

Dom goes to sit again but then they hear voices outside and they both recognise the loud, self-important tones of Christopher Wolstenholme. Matt's been restrained for months but he moves with a strength and speed the doctor would have thought impossible if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes. The patient scoots off the bed and picks up the glass. He smashes it against the bedframe, grabs Dom by the hair and puts the jagged edge against Dom's throat.

The door swings open to reveal Wolstenholme, flanked by two orderlies. His lip still shows the marks of Matt's attack and Matt takes a certain bitter satisfaction in that. He glares at the prosecutor.

"Back! Get the fuck back!"

Wolstenholme holds up his hands in a placatory gesture.

"Calm down, Bellamy. Let him go."

"Get back, or I swear to God I'll cut his throat."

"I don't believe you, you won't hurt him."

"No? Read my file, better yet, take a look in the mirror and remember what happened the last time you were here. Psychos like me love hurting things. I'll kill this bastard right in front of you without thinking twice about it."

Matt smiles and increases the pressure until a tiny bead of blood trickles down the doctor's throat.

"His blood will spray all over your face and it'll be so beautiful..."

Wolstenholme backs out and Matt marches Dom out of the room. Dom doesn't dare open his mouth to try and reason with the patient. Matt backs down the hall, keeping a careful eye on the prosecutor all the way. They reach the open area by the nurses' station. Another patient is being escorted back to his room. He sees Matt and starts to scream.

"Scary man! Scary man! Scary man!"

Matt bares his teeth at him and the other patient wets himself. He pulls away from his orderly and runs down one of the other hallways, crying and screaming about the scary man. Matt whispers in Dom's ear.

"Guide me out."

Dom does and they move out of the secure unit and down through the other floors of the hospital. They cause a stir everywhere they go. Patients scream and run when they see Matt and that's good. He can't lose Wolstenholme and the orderlies with him but all the others have their hands full, no chance of anyone sneaking up on him. They reach the door and Matt shoves it open with his back. He lets go of the doctor's hair, reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He sticks it in the waistband of his own trousers. Then he grabs the doctor's hair again and whispers in his ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The glass slices though the doctor's neck. Blood sprays the floor and Dom collapses as Matt lets go of his hair. Matt turns and runs

...to

...the

...bathroom

and falls on his knees in front of the toilet. His stomach lurches again but nothing comes out. He dry heaves a couple of times and collapses on the floor beside the toilet. The cold floor feels good against his face. He pulls himself into a sitting postion as his stomach settles. At least his headache - the agony that sent him to bed before the sun had gone down - has blown away. Dom came up to check on him at closing time. He wanted to cancel the after hours poker game and stay with Matt. But Matt wanted to be alone.

The space beside him was still empty when he ran to the bathroom, Dom still downstairs, maybe playing poker, maybe just cleaning up after the game. Matt stands, runs water into the sink and splashes his face. He grabs a towel and dries off. He turns to leave ... then turns and looks at the mirror over the sink. Something's not right but he can't quite put his finger on it. Then he sees it: his movements don't quite match up with his reflection. He waves a hand in front of his face and, a fraction of a second later, his reflection does the same.

Matt blinks.

His reflection doesn't.

What the fuck is going on?

The mirrorman is smiling now. Matt isn't smiling. The mirrorman's hands shoot out of the mirror and grab Matt by the throat...

The bathroom door opens and Dom stumbles in.

"There you are!" He frowns. "What's wrong, still sick?"

"No, my reflection...."

Matt doesn't know how to finish that sentence. He looks at the mirror again and Dom slips an arm around his waist.

"Oh yeah, you're fucking hideous. I'm surprised your mother didn't sell you to the circus."

Matt waves a hand in front of his face again. Nothing wrong with his reflection now. Maybe there never was. Dom rubs his neck.

"Did something happen?"

"Yes ... no ... I don't know. Forget it."

He goes back to the bedroom and Dom follows him in.

"Tell me what happened, Matt."

Matt tell him and it sounds even more insane out loud. Dom sits on the bed, thinking.

"I think we should take you to the hospital and let them run some tests."

"I don't need a hospital. There's nothing wrong with me."

"No? You fainted your first night here, now you're having headaches and hallucinations."

"No hospitals!"

Dom gets up and starts pacing around the room.

"Chris thinks I should get rid of you."

"Why?"

"He says there's something not quite right about you. He thinks you might be dangerous."

"What do you think?"

"I don't think you're dangerous. But I'm worried about you and I know you're hiding things from me."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"You are. You know it, I know it. I'm not angry, I just wish you'd trust me."

Matt takes a deep breath.

"I do trust you, Dom. I don't mean to keep you in the dark."

"Then why do you?"

"I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know who I am."

"What?"

"I can't remember my past. I know my name, I know I can play piano and I know all the little personal details, my likes and dislikes, all that stuff. But I don't remember my parents, or growing up, or even how I got here. I knew it all that first night, I did, but it's all gone now. It just faded away."

"What's the last thing you do remember?"

"Standing at the crossroads and flipping a coin."

"Do you have anything in your wallet that might help, something with an address?"

"I don't have a wallet. I had some money in the front pocket of my jeans but no wallet, no keys, nothing like that."

"You don't have anything else that might help?"

Matt thinks about it.

"There is one thing."

He goes downstairs, finds the jacket he was wearing that night and brings it to the bedroom. He reaches into the inside pocket and pulls something out, offering it to Dom.

"I have this."

A ring rests on Matt's palm. Dom takes it and examines it. It's a gold ring with a black stone. Dom touches the small, golden eye in the middle of the stone.

"Is it yours, do you think?"

Matt takes the ring back and puts it on the middle finger of his right hand. It's a perfect fit.

"What does it mean?"

Matt rubs

...his

...left

...thumb

over the eye in his ring. The minister stamps around Matthew's office.

"Why haven't you broken him yet?"

"I will. These things take time."

"No, you're being too soft."

Matthew laughs, a rare thing indeed.

"I have been called many things, Christopher, but 'soft' is not one of them."

"You need to push harder."

"If I do that I'll kill him. But if that's what you want, just say the word."

"What?"

"Do you want a quiet, backdoor execution? If that's all you want, I can do that right now. You can come down to his cell with me and I'll open his throat while you watch. It will take me all of five seconds."

The minster's hands clench into fists.

"I want a confession."

"You'll get one."

"When?"

"When he breaks."

The minster swears and storms out of Matthew's office. Matthew looks down at his hands. They're shaking again. He stares at them and they still. This is something new. Headaches, night sweats and now shaking hands. It really is very strange. Matthew looks at his ring, then takes it off and lays it on the desk. He pulls Howard's ring from his pocket and places it beside his own. Another gold ring, but this one has a red stone and a tiny gold hand where Matthew's has an eye.

The Eye and the Hand, secret police and ruling council. The Eye sees everything. The Hand never lets go.

Matthew plays with Howard's ring and thinks about the Deputy - the former Deputy. The minister's threats don't bother him at all. But why is he interfering like this? Confessions take time, some prisoners can hold out for months and the minister's never complained before. And, come to think of it, why would a man like Howard, a man so devoted to his job he probably quoted the Law in his sleep, turn traitor?

Did he turn traitor? He doesn't act like a guilty man. Could he be innocent? Could the Eye be wrong?

Matthew tries to push all these questions out of his head. When he looks down at his hands they're shaking again.