Fic: Resistance (chapter seven)

[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, sex and violence.
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.
Would also like to thank Anya for being my beta again and for putting up with my rants and insecurities about this :p

Muchas gracias again to fabulous, no wait... FABULOUS beta for striking again :D Do have your phone nearby on Thursday ;) (Friday for you?)

Hope you all enjoy the next chapter, I kinda liked this one myself lol

CHAPTER 7

 

Once they were more comfortable money-wise, Matt and Dom’s priority was finding a shop where they could have the laptop repaired. They soon realised it was a task that would have to be delayed until the following morning, though; all the shops they saw were closed, except for one, and the only employee there didn’t speak English. So instead, they focused on looking for somewhere cheap to stay. The night was cold and tiredness had begun to kick in, the lack of proper sleep, the tension and the stress, plus the whole day spent traipsing around Hong Kong, all adding to their exhausted state. But they had no choice but to keep going.

 

They stopped by a web café, in the hope they could find accommodation in the area without having to roam about aimlessly, and took the opportunity to check the online news again. Matt printed a few articles to read later on, but there were no updates on their situation. They also logged in to their e-mail accounts and again, the countless unread messages, mostly from friends and family who they both desperately wanted to avoid, provided nothing useful. However, they had a huge surprise when Matt randomly checked Muse’s Twitter: Chris had left a message.

 

Hey everyone, am back home. Cheers for the support, we’re trying to get out of this mess. C x

 

The sheer joy that assailed them soon gave way to confusion.

 

“Chris tweeting...? At this time...?” They looked at each other, each reading the other’s mind. Their bassist rarely did it on tour, the fact that he had bothered to do it now, when it was likely there were much more important things going on, was just odd.

 

Matt stared intently at the words on the screen and then it became clear to him. 

 

“Dom! This is a message for us, Dom!” He exclaimed excitedly, nearly bouncing in his chair as he turned to his band mate. “He wants us to know he’s reachable so we can contact him! We can’t be sloppy now because I reckon he’s under surveillance and...” Matt paused, his smile fading. What if it wasn’t Chris tweeting? What if it was only the police trying to lure them into revealing their location?

 

“Why don't we email him?” Dom said simply.

 

Matt was exasperated. “How dense can you be? D’you know how easy it would be to hack his account? Didn't you see what they did with mine, haven't you learnt anything? And it's not just the police who're after us! He didn't email us, what does that tell you?”

 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” The blond raised his hands in defence, Matt almost spitting the words. “Maybe we can reply to his tweet then? He’ll be checking for it.”

 

“What if Chris didn’t really tweet and this is only a way to get us to show our faces?”

 

Dom couldn't allow Matt’s disillusionment to become contagious. “And what if it’s really him? Are we really gonna let a chance like this slip away?” His voice softened. “Matt, if it is him, he’ll want to know we’re okay.”

 

“I just think that... this might be a trap.”

 

Dom gazed at him sadly and Matt's eyes darted away as he was stung by a sharp pang of guilt. Regardless of Dom’s words on the subject earlier in the day, it was obvious to Matt that he was worried about the rest of the boys, dreading the prospect that they had been harmed; Matt didn’t have to hear him say it to know. He was concerned, too, of course; the fear always there, lurking in the back of his mind. His stomach knotted as he recalled how Dom had so selflessly turned himself into an accomplice just to help him, likely risking his own skin as well, the triad’s direct involvement in the manhunt posing a real physical threat. He didn’t want to think about any of that.

 

“We could get a Twitter account, reply with something there...” Dom continued, leaning his elbows on the desk as he focused on the computer screen before turning to Matt. “We’ve got nothing to lose. We’re not going to tell Chris or anyone else exactly where we are.”

 

“It's too dangerous, anyone can see it.” Matt was reluctant but his fingers were drumming rapidly on the surface of the desk. Maybe there was a way to test whether it was really Chris tweeting. And it was true that their band mate would be concerned if he had sent the message and they didn’t get back to him in some form; they’d have to find a secure way to contact him. And then it came to him. He turned to Dom, eyes wide. “Wait, what’s his kid’s account? Alfie! He's got a Twitter account! Chris doesn’t shut the fuck up about it!” It was impossible not to remember Chris’ rants about it over the past month, making the family man the target of much mockery and ridicule, even from his wife Kelly, who had travelled with them for the Big Day Out tour. It wasn’t bulletproof, but it was probably their best shot.

 

Dom beamed. “Nice! He won’t miss it, you know he and Kel will be monitoring the kids like crazy. You remember Alfie's username?”

 

Soon, new Twitter user Chessboard_pawn was tweeting ‘is Big Brother on?’ to Chris’ son.

 

And now they would wait.

 

They didn’t stay much longer, only noting down of a couple of addresses where they could pay for a place to stay for the night. Dom adjusted his hood, zipping his leather jacket up to his chin when they hit the streets. His feet were killing him, he couldn‘t wait to get his shoes off and throw himself onto a bed. But they kept walking, consulting their map, and after a while they found themselves in a more rundown, shady area of town. There were bars all over, dodgy characters loitering in doorways, groups of loud, drunk Englishmen and other foreigners stumbling by. There were also plenty of Asian women in skimpy outfits, who weren’t really approaching anyone, but whose reason for being there was clear. The two musicians could feel eyes on them as they passed and Dom suddenly stopped, a smile forming on his face as an idea came to him.

 

“You know,” he started, glancing over his shoulder at a petite girl who was leaning against the wall outside a bar, busy with her mobile. “I know exactly how we could find a place to stay that probably wouldn’t be too expensive...”

 

“You fucking stupid?” Matt knew instantly what Dom had in mind by the sly look on his face, and he could barely believe it. “D’you know how much a hooker would ask you for?!”

 

“Who said she’d charge me? I don’t need to fuck her – just want a room for us.” Dom grinned and looked behind himself again, bolder now. The girl was still fiddling with her phone but her eyes were on Dom, lips curved in an inviting smile. “Stay here and let me do the work. Don’t want you and your moodiness ruining it all.”

 

Matt gave him the biggest eye roll he could muster, the drummer ignoring it with a cheeky grin, swaggering over to the girl. The nerve, Matt raged. Had Dom actually told him to stay away?! He shoved his hands in his pockets, discreetly watching the scene. How could Dom manage to pretend to want to get laid at a time like this? But sure enough, the pair were already chatting amicably, the girl giggling and smiling coyly at the blond, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder.

 

Even after all these years, Matt still couldn’t figure out how Dom did it. It’s not like he could complain about his own success rate, that would be ridiculous, but Dom was something else... Fan or not, he could have his way with pretty much any woman, they all fell for his charms. It was often a source of amusement, observing Dom seducing a woman; the crew sometimes putting bets on how many minutes it would take him to bag a bird. But it had become a source of irritation to Matt lately, after Dom had revealed his preference for men. And the singer couldn’t really understand what people found so alluring about Dom, either. First he was too chubby and baby-faced, now he was too skinny; his hideous gay clothes were a fucking joke (frankly, he should have seen it coming) and well, sure he had a lovely smile and nice teeth... But he couldn’t be more obvious about his true intentions, and Matt was sick of hearing how women appreciated being made to feel special and not just like an anonymous shag. Maybe they just weren’t as demanding with blonds? Not that he’d noticed much of a difference when he had bleached his own hair...

 

Matt guardedly wondered whether it was the same with men. He’d never seen Dom openly flirting with another male. Not that he wanted to, of course; spying on his best mate in hopes of catching him snogging another bloke would be too fucked up for words. It was just simple, human curiosity. But when Dom interacted with other guys, Matt would sometimes try and guess if it was just friendly banter, or something more. He’d note how the drummer smiled, his stance, if he’d lean in to speak in the person’s ear or not, if his eyes would roam heatedly over the other man's body, if he’d look them in the eye with keen interest in whatever they were saying... But he simply couldn’t tell. And it wound him up. Plus, reluctant though Matt was to admit it, he was dead curious as to what sort of guy Dom fancied. He knew what Dom liked in a woman, but in a bloke? They’d never had that kind of discussion; Dom had never even hinted at wanting to initiate such a conversation and neither had Matt, not even jokingly. He couldn’t help being curious... But he was resigned to Dom’s gay shenanigans remaining out of his sight.

 

Well… The singer squirmed, his mind travelling back in time, to that week in Australia. He actually did have a pretty good idea of how Dom behaved sexually with men... and it wasn’t just as a spectator... But that was just different, wasn’t it? They were mates. It wasn’t like there had been any seduction involved. Matt had been the one to start it, anyway, and they had been pretty upfront about it. Not that it had been a chore, far from it, but... He looked back to his band mate and his female companion, wishing they’d hurry the fuck up; his train of thought was starting to make him a tad hot and uncomfortable.

 

Having left Matt fidgeting on the spot with a scowl on his face, Dom finally returned with the girl, an arm looped around her waist and an insufferably smug grin stamped on his face.

 

“Hey Matt, this is Amihan, she’s from the Philippines. He’s a grumpy bastard, don’t mind him,” he joked to the girl, who giggled. She seemed very young to Matt, up close. Disturbingly young, in fact. “She says she knows somewhere we can stay.”

 

They followed the girl through the seedy streets of Wan Chai, abandoning the rowdy bar and club area to enter an old, decaying residential neighbourhood. Some of the buildings seemed to be close to collapse: paint long gone, they were riddled with severe cracks and some had big chunks of wall missing. Matt wondered whether they were being led straight to some rat’s nest to be robbed and murdered. Or straight into the claws of the Sun Yee On. After Dom politely refused the girl’s offer of her own room (and a little more than that), she led them inside a crumbling apartment building, explaining she had a friend with a spare room.

 

She took them up some stairs and then knocked on a door, Matt examining the dank, dusty surroundings shiftily when the door suddenly opened and a head peeked out. All they could see at first was a messy wig of blond curls framing the distrustful face of a dark skinned woman, caked in glittery make-up. But as soon as she saw them, the door swung wide to reveal a tall, muscular woman in a short, gold-sequined dress, inflated boobs nearly popping out of the plunging neckline... and a bulge in the crotch area clearly visible. Matt’s eyes flared impossibly wide, and then ‘she’ spoke, a beam on ‘her’ face.

 

“My, oh my!”

 

She – or he, Matt couldn’t decide - was eating them up with big, slightly manic eyes, rubbing her manicured hands together in palpable excitement, long red nails sparkling. Dom’s smile dropped a little at the enthusiastic reception.

 

“Blond?” She pointed her index finger at Dom. “Or brunet?” She winked at Matt, whose eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. “I’ll have both, thank you very much! Amihan, you are the most darling creature to ever grace this grey piece of earth! You know how to please a woman!” But then a frustrated look appeared on her face and she looked at the giggling Filipino girl, slapping her own thigh. “Damn, I’m doing two shifts at the club tonight! I’m on my way out!”

 

“They don’t want business, only a place to stay tonight. Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

 

The eccentric man/woman sauntered over to them, high heels clicking on the floor, and placed herself between the two Englishmen, who exchanged a look of mild apprehension. She was significantly taller than either of them and when she leaned in close to look directly into Matt’s eyes, blatantly batting her fake eyelashes, the singer couldn’t help but lean slightly away, swallowing. “Is that blue contacts you’re wearing, love?”

 

“Me? Erm,” Matt grimaced awkwardly, a nervous laugh escaping despite himself. “No.”

 

She grinned before turning to Dom. “Marvellous smile,” she swooned, and Dom chuckled uneasily. “Are you on holidays? Small budget? You were robbed?” At every alternative, they shook their heads, trying unsuccessfully to get a word in edgewise, until she gasped and covered her bright red lips with her hand. “Oh my God, don't tell me you've just run away from your pimp!”

 

“Corr blimey, no!” Matt exclaimed, stepping away as his skin started to prickle uncomfortably, the inane babbling tiring him further. Who was this crazy person? He couldn't even decide where to look, his eyes switching from the wig to the obviously fake tits to the dangerously short spandex dress. “We just need a room for the night, that’s all! If you don’t have one, we’ll piss off and look somewhere else.”

 

If she was taken aback by Matt’s outburst, she didn’t show it, only throwing him what she considered to be her sultriest smile. “Of course I have a room for you, love, was just poking a bit of fun, don’t be so uptight. Although...” She gave him another head to toe glance, biting her lip, and just as Matt was about to turn and leave, she laced her arms through his and Dom’s and started pulling them inside with a suggestive grin. “Nevermind that, for now. Anyway, my flatmate works on the streets and she got herself a fabulous deal with a French boy, so she’ll only be back next week. Or maybe never, have you seen ‘Pretty Woman’? Oh, what nonsense – who hasn’t!” Matt and Dom exchanged yet another careful look, both dragging their feet when ‘she’ looked over her shoulder to wave goodbye to the Filipino girl. “My name is Michelle and I’ll be your hostess tonight!”

 

***

 

Michelle showed them the spare room in the modest flat, explained the double bed was made but told them where to get extra blankets if needed and gave them full permission to use the shower, and the kitchen as well if they wanted to cook. She made a point of telling them how everything was clean and tidy and that clients were not bought there, since the house had two rooms, enough for it to be considered a brothel. Brothels were illegal and, as they had no wish to get in trouble with the police, they worked at the so-called ‘one-woman brothels’, located in another building nearby.

 

The place wasn’t spacious and there was absolutely nothing worth stealing, unless the burglars were heavily into make-up, creams and other beauty products, which in part helped to explain why they were welcomed with literally open arms. Rambling non-stop about her life, Michelle spoke of her plans for the future, shared numerous frivolous tidbits about fashion and ranted about prejudice and injustice in the world. She refused to discuss a price for their stay, but after the two musicians insisted, still uncertain, she ended up whispering in Dom's ear that they seemed so nice and were both so pretty that if they behaved and didn’t damage anything she might let them stay for free.

 

Ready to leave for work when they had arrived, Michelle merely grabbed a sparkly purse after the tour was over and blew them a kiss, winked at Matt who been mostly mute, and banged the door shut. They stood awkwardly in the hall, speechless after the past fifteen minutes, before eventually heading to their assigned room, Dom closing the door and locking it for good measure when he noticed the key.

 

“Fucking skank. So not taking my clothes off! Bet he’s got a camera hooked up somewhere to try and to catch us naked,” Matt ranted as he took his coat off, throwing in onto the bed.

 

“It’s a she, didn’t you hear the part where she said she’s saving money for the rest of the surgery? May have been after she told us that she’ll be singing in Vegas next year and making a fortune,” he smiled. “Mental, but hilarious. How lucky were we? Don’t be such an ungrateful, paranoid little shit.”

 

“It's not like I've no reason to be paranoid these days, is it?”

 

Matt had sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Dom as he faced the window, his coat and the laptop bag at his side. He seemed so small and fragile, the bluish moonlight casting a ghostly shadow over him. Swallowing, the drummer removed his own jacket quietly and sat beside him. He rested a hand on Matt's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

 

“Alright?”

 

Matt only sighed in reply, his eyes closed, his shoulders limp. It wasn't the brightest of questions, Dom acknowledged. Matt looked ragged with exhaustion, a shadow of himself. As if the burden of the past day and a half, too weighty for his slim frame, had finally overwhelmed him.

 

“You need to sleep,” the drummer spoke gently. “You’ve barely closed your eyes in the last 48 hours. It's making you all depressed and pessimistic. Come on.” He placed an arm around Matt's shoulders and pulled him close, jostling him softly against his own body, trying to inject some optimism into the dejected frame. Matt didn’t respond, but he didn’t push him away or insult him either, just sinking into Dom’s embrace, letting his head drop to rest on his shoulder.

 

Dom was stunned. He couldn't think of anything to say to him, so they just stayed like that, Matt’s face resting against his neck, his own arm around Matt, rubbing the singer’s shoulder soothingly, until he thought it best to follow his own advice. He made Matt lie on the bed on his side and then climbed up to position himself behind the guitarist, sliding an arm around his waist unabashedly. At the moment, he just didn’t care. His nose was so close to the back of Matt’s head, breathing in next to his hair, that he imagined he could get high just from the scent of the dye. He couldn't help himself. Snuggling closer, he let his lips make contact with the smooth white skin of Matt’s neck. He felt the small figure tense immediately, but there was no attempt at pulling out of his embrace.

 

“Dom...”

 

The warning tone drew a sad smile in the dark from the blond. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m not trying anything.” He paused. “But it wasn’t that bad, was it? You and I? You liked it. In Melbourne, too.”

 

“Did you like it?”

 

For someone so perceptive, Matt could be incredibly thick sometimes. “What do you think?”

 

“I’ve no idea, you never told me.”

 

“You said you didn’t want to do it again.” Or talk about it. That week in Australia had been... intense. Unexpected and intense. From the bizarreness of Matt asking him straight out if they could have sex so he could see what it was like to be with another man; to the surprising bitterness of Matt ending that last, mind-blowing night in Melbourne by saying he didn’t want to do it again. “But yeah, of course I did. Thought it was pretty obvious. I liked it a lot. You were... it was good with you. You were great. You’re flexible.”

 

Matt actually giggled, his body shaking against Dom’s chest. He'd missed that sound, it had been too long since he’d heard Matt laugh like that.

 

“Admit it, I was the best you’ve ever had, wasn’t I?”

 

Matt’s tone was serene but light-hearted, slightly provocative even, and Dom slapped him playfully on the forehead with an annoyed groan.

 

But the question struck a chord with him. It wasn’t the first time he'd thought about it. And he'd definitely known the answer for some time.