Enemies Part Eight

Title: Enemies Part Eight
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Summary: A cop. A bank robber. Some sex. What else do you need?
Feedback: Please do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, this is fiction.


It's over.

It's all over and it's all Dom's fault.

He should have thought faster, moved faster. He should have taken Matt up on his offer while there was still time.

Now it's too late.

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

"We got him!"

Matt's on his knees, hands on his head, surrounded by a ring of loaded guns. His unlucky day came, just like he said it would. Although, if you want to get technical, it was loyalty, not bad luck, that proved his undoing: they were coming out of the bank, all but one of his crew in the van, ready to go. But the last man was brought down by an over-zealous bystander. Matt, loyal to a fault, went back for him and that was that. The rest of the crew got away, but who cares about a bunch of little fish when you've got the prize-winning salmon in the net, just waiting to be gutted and cleaned?

His squad are laughing and high-fiving each other, but Dom just stands there, looking at his lover, throat swollen with the tears he doesn't dare shed.

Not right, damn it all, this is not right. This is not how it happens!

"Lieutenant Howard?"

The over-ambitious pipsqueak whose name Dom can never remember is suddenly in his face, holding out some bracelets.

"Sir, we thought you'd like to do it."

The pipsqueak smiles and Dom is seized by an almost overwhelming compulsion to kick the cuffs right down the smug little fuck's throat. But he forces a smile and takes the handcuffs. The gun circle opens for him and then he's standing in front of the man he loves. Dom grabs Matt's arm and pulls him to his feet. They face each other and the love and acceptance shining in Matt's eyes is too much for Dom. The cop looks down, spins Matt around. Matt puts his hands behind his back like the pro he is, doesn't wait to be told. Dom cuffs his lover and, as the second bracelet snaps shut, Matt's finger brushes Dom's. The contact is brief, but it speaks volumes.

They hustle over to a squad car and Dom stashes Matt in the back. He rides shotgun and the pipsqueak drives. Dom ignores the flood of chatter from the driving seat and spends the journey staring at Matt's reflection in the rear view and thinking, thinking, thinking.

It can't end like this.

He has to do something.

He takes one last look at Matt, makes his decision.

"Stop the car."

This shuts the little shit up. But he keeps driving.

"Are you deaf? Stop the car!"

"What? Why would I stop?"

"Because I told you to and, last time I looked, I was your superior."

"Oh, I get it," the pipsqueak looks at the backseat and smirks, "an old-fashioned interrogation."

He pulls over, jumps out and opens the back door before Dom's even had time to unfasten his seat belt.

"Let's go, Bellamy. Time to play."

Matt's dragged out of the car, thrown to the ground. He doesn't resist. The younger cop steps back and waits for the fun to start. Matt blinks up at his lover.

"Don't do this," he says, voice pitched low so the other cop can't hear.

Dom shakes his head.

"Please," Matt, begging now.

Dom sighs.

"But I have to."

The pipsqueak's expression, when Dom spins on his heel, and sticks a gun in his face, is priceless.

"Lieutenant? I don't understand."

"You don't need to. All you need to do is put your gun on the ground."

He's frozen to the spot, eyes flicking between Matt and Dom, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Now!"

The gun comes out of the holster, hits the ground.

"Get over here, cut him loose."

Matt's pulled to his feet again and set free. Dom cuffs his colleague and throws him down, treating him the way he treated Matt. The younger cop glares up at him.

"Sir, why are you doing this?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Dom joins him and gives him the other cop's gun. Matt takes it and tuts.

"You just threw your whole life away, you know that, don't you?"

"I know. But you're worth it."

They kiss, a deep, passionate and very public kiss. Then Dom breaks away and gestures at the squad car.

"I think we should get out of here," he says.

"I think you're right."

They get in the car, Dom turns the key, the engine roars to life.

And then a bullet shatters his window.

"Out of the car!"

Ears ringing, half-blinded by broken glass, Dom wipes his face, twists in his seat and looks into the face of the now-furious pipsqueak.

"How-" is all Dom can manage.

The pipsqueak hold up the empty cuffs.

"Big Harry Houdini fan."

He shoves his gun in Dom's face.

"And I always carry a back-up piece. Now, out of the car!"

Dom gets out, moving slowly, brain ticking furiously, searching for a way out. Two of them, one of him, they could ... but now other squad cars are arriving and uniforms are on the scene. No way out. Unless...

Dom looks back at Matt, still in the passenger seat. One choice, one chance.

"What the hell is that?"

The pipsqueak is only distracted for a couple of seconds, but that's all Dom needs. He lowers his head and charges, knocking the other man to the ground. They fight for control as the uniforms look on, trying to make sense of what they're seeing. And then the pipsqueak, who's both younger and heavier than Dom, gains the upper hand. He shoves his lieutenant onto his back and cracks him a good one, right in the face. Dom grunts as he hears and feels his nose break. He flops back, dazed, all the fight smacked right out of him. Now it's his turn to be cuffed and shoved around. But it doesn't matter, none of it really matters. Because the pipsqueak is dragging Dom past their squad car and it's empty. It played out the way Dom hoped it would. He hoped the uniforms would be too distracted by the fight to take any notice of Matt and they were. He hoped Matt would be smart enough to take a chance when it was offered and he was.

In the back of a different car, Dom leans forward, closes his eyes and waits for the machinery to take over.

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

Their arrival at the station causes quite a stir. Heads turn, coffee is spilled and voices are raised in protest. The pipsqueak marches Dom through it all, bellowing like an Olde-Worlde town crier, announcing Dom's sins to anyone who cares to listen. He takes Dom to an interrogation room, shoves him into a seat. He sits across from Dom and folds his arms.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, lieutenant."

"I do, I most certainly do. But not to a jumped-up little shit like you."

The young cop tries and tries to get Dom to talk. But Dom clams up and waits for someone higher up the food chain to put in an appearance. His patience is rewarded when Tom Kirk walks into the room. He's brought coffee, aspirin and an ice-pack for Dom's nose. He nods at the pipsqueak.

"I'll take it from here, son."

"But I caught him!" the pipsqueak protests, "it's my collar, it's my case!"

"Yes, you caught him, but I outrank you and this interrogation is mine. Now, run along, the grown-ups need to talk."

He goes, bitching all the way. Tom pays him no mind. He unlocks Dom's cuffs and gives him the ice-pack. It feels like heaven against Dom's poor, abused nose. The pain fades to a dull throb and Dom takes the aspirin, washing it down with coffee. Good coffee, brought in from outside, with just the right amount of cream and sugar. He leans back in his chair and regards Tom thoughtfully.

"They thought I'd open up to a friendly face?"

"They thought it was worth a shot."

Tom reaches for his own coffee.

"You let Bellamy go."

"I did."

"You're screwing him, aren't you?"

"I'm in love with him."

Dom laughs at his friend's thunderstruck expression.

"I know, it's crazy. But it happened, Tom. Now, start the tape, get comfortable and I'll tell you all about it."

Tom hits the button and Dom starts talking. He lays it all out, omits nothing. Every last, sordid detail, recorded for posterity. He finishes and Tom turns off the tape.

"I don't know what to say, Dom."

"Nothing to say. I fucked up, fucked up big time, and now I'll pay for it. You've got my statement. Type it up, bring it back and I'll sign it."

"I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I know."

Tom leaves and returns almost an hour later with a fistful of typed sheets. Dom reads his statement, signs it, then stands and puts his hands behind his back.

"Now, take me to a cell."

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

The story breaks and it breaks big. Locked away in his cell, Dom has no access to internet, television, or even radio, but they do give him newspapers. The tabloids go crazy: a high-ranking cop, a master criminal, a sex scandal, what's not to love? They print pictures of Dom's house ("the den of sin!"), they even break in and take pictures of his bedroom. Everyone Dom has ever known is pestered by reporters and, while some people are loyal to Dom, most are more than happy to spill the beans. Dom's ex, Peter, is in this latter camp. His interview takes up five pages. Reporters interview Dom's parents, or try to. Dom's father tells them he has no son, then slams the door in their faces.

When they run out of people to annoy they run polls, inviting people to write in and guess Matt's rescue plan. He must be planning a rescue; he invaded a station full of cops to rescue one lowly member of one of his crews, what will he do for the man he loves? Dom's captors worry about that, too. They bury him deep, surround him with itchy trigger fingers and wait for Matt to make his move.

But he doesn't make a move. He roams free, taking down scores, while Dom cools his heels and reads newspapers and his mail. He gets a lot of mail. Homophobic hate mail, that was expected. Love letters, marriage proposals and pornographic propositions, not so much. Dom's no innocent, but the things some men want him to do to them make his eyes pop. He pities the poor saps forced to go through his mail before he receives it, looking for secret messages from Matt. But there are no messages from Matt. Well, maybe one: Dom opens a newspaper one morning and finds an article on his ex. Poor Peter, mugged on the way to work one day and beaten to a bloody pulp. He'll live, but he'll spend the rest of his life pissing through a catheter.

Dom's day in court arrives. The security detail take no chances. Dom's chained and chained and chained some more and at least half a dozen guns are trained on him at all times. Any false moves, any attempts to bust him out and bang, no more Dom. He'll disappear from the waist up. Dom sees some of his colleagues - ex-colleagues now, he needs to remember that - in the crowd. He wishes they would curse him, spit on him, something. But all they do is stare and the pain and confusion in their eyes cuts Dom to the quick. These were his people, good people and he let them down.

They read out the charges and it's a long list. Dom pleads guilty. To everything. Guilty, guilty, guilty. No pleas for leniency, no attempts to explain it all away. The judge reads out the sentence. So many years for this, so many years for that. Dom's going to jail for a long, long time.

On the steps of the courthouse, reporters surround Dom and his guards. The guards look nervous and they drag Dom through the sea of cameras and microphones.

"Why did you do it, Dom? Why did you throw your life away?" a reporter yells.

Dom digs his heels in, locks himself in place for a few, precious seconds. He smiles into the camera and his voice rings out, clear and true:

"Love. I did it for love."

Then he's bundled into the armored car. The car takes off and doesn't stop until it reaches the state prison. The guards grab Dom's chains and drag him out of the car.

"Welcome to the rest of your life, lover boy."

The gates open and Dom's taken inside.