Resistance - Epilogue

[mjartrod]

Title: Resistance
Rating: Mostly PG-13 (will warn if a particular chapter has a higher rating).
Feedback: Is always welcome in any form.
Warnings: Slash, language and sex.
Summary: Matt Bellamy has always been a conspiracy theory enthusiast. But what happens when one day, as Muse are leaving Hong Kong after a gig for a month’s break, what is supposed to be a routine interrogation before boarding a flight turns into a manhunt operation where Matt unwillingly plays the main role?
Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictional, even those based on real people and material (having been altered, added or left out for dramatic purposes). I do not own Muse.
Author’s note: The idea came to me after picking up an amazing book in a bookstore a couple of months ago – Stieg Larsson’s first book of the Millennium trilogy. Go read, they're absolutely fantastic.

So this is it.
What a journey it’s been, thank you so much for coming along; thank you, THANK YOU to everyone for reading this and for the fantastic feedback.

Unavoidable to thank our boys, really. They are such an inspiration. Apologies for, once again, making them suffer in fiction :p I like to imagine that if they suffer in fiction, then they won’t in real life, as I wish them nothing less than good luck and happiness :)

And of course, big shout out to Anya! Can’t thank you enough for being my beta and actually co-writing at many moments!
English not being my native language, and despite having written fic before, I never did anything this long and after awhile one starts to feel the limitations. No way I’d be able to finish this without her, most likely I’d still be editing the first chapter now :p It was a comfort to know that she’d be there to help when necessary, even made me a bit lazy sometimes haha! THANK YOU! (now start writing again, dammit!)

I doubt I will ever be able to hear the song ‘Resistance’ again without thinking of this story, it was so special to hear it live in May. This, though, will always be one of my favourite performances of it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrUWAqmYRJ4

EPILOGUE


For days now, a return to England had been all they desperately craved. More than anything, being able to go home had represented an end to their troubles.

Finally, with midnight approaching, Matt and Dom sat in the first class cabin of a plane ready for take-off. And in thirteen hours, give or take, they’d find themselves in London.

Dom fell asleep before he’d even managed to recline his plush seat, his head drooping to his shoulder, the dull overhead light shining off his blond hair; Matt remained awake, switching from staring dully at his personal TV to gazing thoughtfully at Dom.

The word ‘relief’ didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling. His life had undergone such a rollercoaster ride over the last few days that, now Matt looked back and took in the magnitude of what had happened, he could scarcely fathom how he had managed to cope with it all, let alone survive it. His body was wracked with chills as memories resurfaced.

The healing process would be slow. Before he could comprehend how such a brief, seemingly insignificant fan meeting could impact on his life in such a bruising way; before he could overcome the fact that he’d been unjustly accused of crimes he had no knowledge of and how they’d both been put in lethal danger as a consequence, scandalously used without a semblance of concern from anyone involved. It would be a long time before he could accept that he was powerless to do anything about it, having been humiliatingly blackmailed into silence with no more than a stack of photos. Jeopardising the band’s image and exposing Dom to uncomfortable scrutiny, when the drummer treasured his privacy, was simply not an option, especially when there was no guarantee that speaking out would produce the result he sought.

It revolted Matt, ate away at him, made him want to sit at a piano and pound away at the keys until he emptied himself of all his frustration and anger, and made the world feel like a slightly less shitty place to be.

He thought of the brief conversation he’d had with his ex-girlfriend before boarding. After the meeting with the Secret Intelligence Service agents at the British Embassy, he and Dom had spent the remaining time until their flight on the phone to family, friends, management. And despite knowing little of the intricacy of the situation, Gaia had told him something that had resonated with him: that Matt thrived on challenge and how that manifested itself in all parts of his life. Adversity had always driven him further, like when he became a widely respected singer even though people initially ridiculed his voice, or when he started a fight with someone he loved half because he wanted the pleasure of reconciliation afterwards. For the first time in months, Matt had felt at peace with her and knew, no matter what, they would always care for each other. It was a surprisingly positive result of the pain of their break-up, knowing he had a friend for life in Gaia.

Maybe she was right. Who knew, maybe once he overcame his disgust with the world, he’d find something beneficial had come of this ordeal, too.

He let his eyes wander back to the man sleeping peacefully beside him. There were certain feelings, new and decidedly interesting feelings, that had to be faced, too. One moment it felt like they had spouted from nowhere; the next as if they had always been there and it was his perception and awareness of them that had changed. One way or another, it was scary. These were feelings that made him nervous, unsettled, caused butterflies to flutter in his stomach like before a big show... but they also left him with a pleasant little glow of fulfilment...

Matt realised he had been sleeping when a familiar hand slid underneath the blanket covering his lap and landed with casual possessiveness on his inner thigh. Eyes snapping open, he found Dom’s face close to his as he leaned over him with a comforting smile.

“Alright?” The soothing voice tickling Matt’s ear made him feel a tad giddy as a wave of warmth washed through his body; he even felt his cheeks flush. “Straighten up, we’re landing in a few minutes.” Dom squeezed his leg gently and then removed his hand. Matt wished he'd left it there.

They had no luggage to collect, the belongings they'd had with them in Hong Kong still with the police, who they wouldn't be meeting with until the following day, so after passport control, they went straight past baggage reclaim and through customs to the arrivals hall... where they were confronted by a waiting crowd of journalists and photographers. The two friends froze in shock, blinded by camera flashes as the other passengers darted out of the way as the media swarm began to close in on them, firing questions. Dom glanced anxiously at Matt, who looked waxen and ill at the intrusion. He was close to all-out panic, and Dom was determined that he shouldn’t have to deal with this after all they’d been through. Ignoring everyone surrounding them with consummate ease, he took his aviators, which had miraculously survived their tribulations unscathed, from the breast pocket of his leather jacket and slipped them on. Unleashing his most charming grin, he slung an affectionately protective arm around Matt.

“Let’s go.”

They crossed the terminal to the exit, Dom with his head held high, dazzling the photographers with his smile, Matt with his eyes trained shyly on the floor, the discomfort constricting his chest easing as Dom shielded him. Airport security was helpful for once, quickly finding them a taxi, and before he knew it they were on their way, Dom giving his address in South Kensington to the driver.

The typical grey sky of an early February morning in London stretching above them, they reached Dom's flat and collected the keys from the porter, taking the lift up. No more soulless hotels, no more people demanding attention, no more commotion. Dom watched as the elevator doors slid shut and, almost with a mind of its own, his hand reached out, searching for Matt's. It was cold when he took it and, wordlessly, he enlaced their fingers, squeezing gently to imbue Matt's flesh with his own warmth. It felt right.

Reaching Dom’s floor, they walked with joined hands, and the moment they entered the flat and the door locked behind them, Dom pulled Matt to him. He cupped his face with both hands and, dipping forward, pressed their lips together.

“I’m sorry,” Dom whispered against his mouth, his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to do this. Been wanting to do it for so long, ever since you arrived at the police station.”

Tentatively opening his eyes, his heart pounded frantically in his chest as hands moved to rest at his waist. Matt was staring at him with quiet intensity in the darkness of the foyer. Then he smiled.

“Dunno what you’re on about...”

The gap between them closed as his arms wrapped around Dom, Matt's lips brushing softly over the blond’s, one kiss becoming two becoming three. His hands slid up to hold Dom’s neck, heads tilting, mouths parting longingly. Their tongues met, touching and stroking in unhurried exploration, without fear.

When Matt broke away with a contented sigh, he rested his forehead on Dom’s shoulder, snuggling his body into the other man’s, surrendering completely.

“This is... this is bloody mental...”

“It is a bit, yeah.” The drummer smiled, stroking Matt’s back reflexively at the feeling of stubble grazing his neck, the hot breath on his sensitive skin shiver-inducing. He clutched the slight man tighter, and slender fingers reacted by grasping more firmly at his hair. Dom knew where home was now. It wasn’t England, it wasn’t Nice, it wasn't a house or an actual place; home was this.

“You can take a shower and grab something to wear out of my wardrobe,” Dom murmured. “You want something to eat? I'll get it for you.”

“Mmmm, no. Just want to sleep until the next ice age kicks in.”

Dom laughed lightly and nodded. The idea was rather appealing.

They slipped out of each other’s arms, Matt toeing his shoes off on the way to Dom’s bedroom. The blond could hear the shower in his en suite bathroom running as he checked one of the guest rooms to make sure it was ready for Matt and opened the blinds in the living room and kitchen. I definitely need to go shopping later, Dom thought. He could still hear running water, so decided to use the main bathroom to take a long, hot, relaxing shower himself. All his muscles ached as if he had taken a savage beating, and he mentally scheduled himself a full-body massage for later in the week. The month long break they had could not have come at a better time; it would give him time to visit his mother, he’d promised to pop down to Devon to let her fuss over him, and it was always fun to visit Chris, Kelly and the kids. He mustn’t forget to stop by his sister’s, too, or she’d have his head on a plate. They should really rehearse as well, with their biggest ever tour of the States imminent... and everything would be alright in time.

Leaving the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling tunelessly, he was in high spirits despite his physical exhaustion. Planning to check on Matt and then have a kip, even though he’d slept for nearly 12 hours during the flight, he came to a halt in the doorway of his bedroom. Matt was in his bed, dwarfed by the king-sized mattress as he lay curled into himself under the duvet, face serene in sleep.

He couldn’t be sure of Matt’s intentions, if he even had any, but one thing was certain: there was no way he would let Matt force him out of his own bed.


***


There was a buzzing in the back of Dom’s head and when he rolled over in bed and bumped into a slack-limbed, sleep warm Matt, he realised the sound was his doorbell.

Half-awake, he groggily pulled on a t-shirt and uncharacteristically loose pair of jeans over his boxer briefs, but almost bounced into alertness when he looked through the peephole and saw who was on the other side of his front door. Swinging it open right away, he grabbed a beaming Tom for a strong hug.

“Jesus, don’t think I've ever been so happy to see your monobrow!”

They thumped each other’s backs with wide grins on their faces, before Dom finally let the media manager come inside.

“Christ, been held by the Hong Kong Police this whole time, fuckers wouldn’t let me go. Arrived yesterday and haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

“We’re due to give our statements tomorrow. We’ll be there the whole day, I imagine.”

Tom had a few shopping bags with him, and Dom helped him carry them to the living room, where the brunet looked around with his hands on his hips. “Matt’s asleep?”

“Yeah, he’ll be out for the next decade, I expect. Can’t blame him. What have you got here?” Dom asked, peeking into one of the bags.

“Booze and some snacks. Figured you wouldn’t have anything here. Chris was late getting to London, by the way, but he should be arriving soon.”

There was a soft grumbling coming from the hallway and they both turned towards it. It was Matt, wearing an old pair of red tracksuit bottoms that Dom wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public; they clashed horribly with the pink t-shirt he'd also borrowed. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes, but broke into a delighted smile when he spotted Tom, who was already striding over to him for an enthusiastic hug.

“The fuck did you do to your hair?” Tom enquired, Matt ruffling it at the back and grinning sheepishly at Dom, who snickered. “Everyone worried to death about you, locked up in a police station going through God knows what, and you had time to dye your hair? What the fuck?”

“The hair, Tom, was one of Matt’s genius ideas for staying incognito.”

“Eh? To block mind control rays and satellite tracking? Tin foil, mate. Tin foil does the trick, not hair dye!”

“Blimey, Tom, how many times did we watch ‘The Fugitive’?” Matt’s voice was still throaty with sleep, but he was awake enough to notice Dom sniggering discreetly at Tom’s mockery, which he responded to by giving him the finger. “What’s in there?”

Tom flopped down on a couch, chuckling as Matt immediately went to investigate the bags, curious as ever, his eyes shining like a kid’s at Christmas when he discovered what was inside.

“Fancy that!” He pulled a bottle of red wine and a six-pack of beer out. “Fucking hell, Captain Kirk, I knew there was a reason we’ve been friends for so long. Dom, go and get us a bucket full of ice.”

The media manager eyes moved nostalgically between his two best friends. They had started bickering over whether they should put the beers in the fridge or get a bucket with ice and keep them in the living room. “Like an old married couple,” he said, shaking his head indulgently, the two of them ceasing their squabbling to stare at him. “Cannot believe I wondered for real if I’d ever get to see this again.”

Matt’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the bottle of red wine gripped tightly in his hand, and, for a fleeting moment, Tom thought he saw a shadow darken Matt’s face, giving him a glimpse of the gravity of what he'd been through.

The doorbell rang again and Dom hurried to answer it. “I’ll get that, it’s gotta be Chris.”

It was. The bassist was unshaven and vaguely disreputable, as they all were, but his grin was huge. There was a long group hug, and it was difficult to stop themselves from tearing up, however 'unmanly' it was. They were all just so relieved, and it was the first time they'd all been together since that doomed afternoon at the airport in Hong Kong, which was less than a week ago, but felt like several lifetimes.

“Just arrived with Kelly,” Chris explained, slumping onto the nearest couch and taking the drink Tom was holding out to him. “Is it true the airport was full of reporters? Heard something about it on the radio.”

“Yeah. It was brilliant,” Dom smirked, easily catching a can thrown his way and perching on the arm of the sofa next to Chris. “You should’ve seen Matt’s face, thought he was gonna blow chunks right there!”

Matt swigged red wine directly from the bottle, eyeing the drummer narrowly . “You loved that, didn’t you? Acting the camera whore, soaking up all the attention. You’ve been fucking impossible ever since I let you play front man in Italy. Knew it was a mistake to allow you out from behind your kit.”

“A bloke gets spoiled,” Dom drawled, hopping over Chris to spreadeagle himself on the couch. “You get used to a certain level of attention, what with particular band members spending half their time tweeting pictures of you to the fans.”

Chris doubled over with laughter, barely dodging the DVD remote Matt flung at Dom in a fit of pique.

They ordered takeaways, shared around drinks, talked about it all; laughter intertwining with deep moments of sombre silence, rage and indignation. Hectic times awaited them; meetings with the police, the lawyers, the label and management to attend; family and friends to visit; statements to release to the media. It was nice just to have the chance to hang out.

Dom wondered about all of this and more as he leaned against the rail of the small balcony off his living room, smoking as he stared into the winter night. It was cold, but he couldn't be arsed to pull on more clothes. The light chatter of his friends and Matt's high-pitched giggles behind him were slowly petering out as the effects of alcohol, jet lag and fatigue started to show.

There were some important things Dom needed to take care of. Things that needed to be said, revealed. Some of these were things he probably should have shared with the people he trusted the most a long time ago. He hadn’t felt ready before; but he was now.

There was someone approaching him from behind. He didn’t have to turn to see who it was, he'd know his presence anywhere.

He let Matt take the cigarette he’d been holding, the brushing of their fingers sending tingles coursing up his arm. The impact of every small touch between them was doing Dom’s head in. Leaning on his side against the rail to look at him, Dom watched as Matt took a drag and blew the smoke out, handing the cigarette back. His lips were curved up in an intriguing little smile and they observed each other unabashedly for a long moment. There was still so much left unsaid. And yet, it was at times like this that Dom felt that there was no need for more, that their connection, the bond they'd had since they were teenagers, was so strong that words were no longer required. He felt it now more than ever.

Life was too short. It was a cliché, and he couldn’t exactly claim he hadn’t been trying to live his life to the fullest already, but some statements were a cliché for a reason, and it had never seemed truer than it did now. It had taken being perilously close to being permanently separated for Dom to realise how badly he wanted to share everything he felt with Matt. And with him standing in front of Dom so tranquilly, so openly, the drummer knew that nothing like this could ever come between them. All barriers had been destroyed. There was nothing he hadn’t experienced with Matt, there was nothing he could or would want to keep from him. Including the fact that it had been because of Matt himself that Dom had understood a couple of years earlier that he could never be entirely happy in a relationship with a woman – or another man; with anybody other than his best friend since adolescence. That it had been Matt who had unknowingly helped Dom discover himself; that Matt truly was, and always would be, a part of him.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“You'll tell me later,” Matt breathed, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes falling shut for a brief moment, the biting night breeze caressing his hair.

Dom was caught by surprise. Matt not vibrating with eagerness, not keen to know immediately what was being kept from him? Instead, he was making it difficult for Dom to concentrate, the drummer swallowing heavily at the sight of his exposed neck, at the way he leaned with languid grace against the wall, body all angles and shadow. And then his mouth twisted slightly, mischievously. What the hell was Matt up to? Did he... know?

“But I want to tell you now.” Dom was struggling to keep his hands to himself as his body screamed at him to stride over to the other man and take what he wanted. “It’s about that question you asked me when we... at Michelle’s. You wanted to know how I knew that -”

“I said, later,” Matt repeated, all amused impiety. He grazed the back of his head over the wall, eyelids drooping invitingly as he curled his talented fingers around the handrail. “Tell me later when we go to bed...”

The world seemed to stop for Dom, nothing existing beyond the boundaries of the balcony they shared. He was reminded of the cigarette between his fingers when Matt pitched forward to take it again, the promising glint in his sapphire eyes impossible to miss.

He didn’t even notice Chris arriving until the bassist was standing right next to them, his booming voice snapping him out of his Matt-induced trance. Chris looked assessingly between the two of them for a second, but if he noticed something strange, he didn’t say so. Apparently everything appeared normal, despite how Dom could feel Matt’s gaze burning into him as he leisurely finished the cigarette. He wished he’d look away, it was making him light-headed.

“Me and Tom, we’re going, it’s getting late. “

“Why don’t you crash here?” Dom asked, shaking himself to attention. “Plenty of room for everyone, no need to go out in the cold and dark.” He prayed Chris wouldn’t accept his invitation.

“Yeah, yeah. And I can stay in Dom’s room, he doesn’t mind.” Matt’s voice raised the hair on his arms, prickling his skin with anticipation. “Do you, Dom?”

Chris looked between them again, Dom chuckling awkwardly and doing his best to ignore Matt as the heat rose in his body, hoping he didn't appear flustered. But Chris seemed to be completely unfazed, though it was obvious he was aware something was up.

“The missus is waiting, sorry.”

They arranged to have dinner the following evening, provided Matt and Dom were released by the police in time, and said goodbye, the drummer seeing the two men to the door when the taxi they had called arrived.

The flat was flooded by silence in the wake of their departure, and Dom took a deep, fortifying breath before returning to the living room. Matt had shut the doors to the balcony and turned off most of the lights in his absence. He furrowed his brow when he couldn’t spot him, but as he slowly padded inside, he realised the singer was lying on the black leather sofa. His head was resting on the arm, body fully stretched along the cushions, skinny ankles crossed. He had both hands in his pockets and a smirk plastered on his face.

“I like your couch.”

“Yeah?” Dom crossed his arms in front of his chest, biting his lip, a grin threatening to emerge. “Got it last month. Want the address of the shop?”

“Ever shagged on it?”

The piercing blue gaze was like a beacon in the darkness, glistening with promise, luring him in. Dom drew closer until he stood over Matt's prone form “You think it’s got the potential?”

Matt scooted against the back and, though there wasn’t really room for a second person, that was all the invitation Dom needed to sit on the edge, his body turned towards his friend.

“I think it’s worth a try.”

Dom could tell when the gaze dropped to his mouth, watching as the thin but pouty lips parted temptingly, and his breathing sped up as excitement rushed through him. Resting one hand by the singer's head and the other on the back of the couch for support, Dom’s upper body bent over Matt, their faces a breath apart.

His voice was no more than a husky whisper as he closed the gap between them.

“I think so, too. I really do.”



The End





Resistance


Is our secret safe tonight
And are we out of sight
Or will our world come tumbling down?
Will they find our hiding place
Is this our last embrace
Or will the walls start caving in?

(It could be wrong, could be wrong) But it should have been right
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) To let our hearts ignite
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) Are we digging a hole?
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) This is out of control

(It could be wrong, could be wrong) It can never last
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) Must erase it fast
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) But it could have been right
(It could be wrong, could be...)

Love is our resistance
They'll keep us apart and they won't to stop breaking us down
Hold me
Our lips must always be sealed

If we live a life in fear
I'll wait a thousand years
Just to see you smile again

Kill your prayers for love and peace
You'll wake the thought police
We can't hide the truth inside

(It could be wrong, could be wrong) But it should have been right
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) To let our hearts ignite
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) Are we digging a hole?

(It could be wrong, could be wrong) This is out of control
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) It can never last
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) Must erase it fast
(It could be wrong, could be wrong) But it could have been right
(It could be wrong, could be...)

Love is our resistance
They'll keep us apart and they won't stop breaking us down
Hold me
Our lips must always be sealed

The night has reached its end
We can't pretend
We must run
We must run
It's time to run
Take us away from here
Protect us from further harm
Resistance