Fic: Resistance (chapter nine)

[mjartrod]

Title: Resistance
Rating: Mostly PG-13
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.

Massive cheers to Anya again, lurves you :DD (counting the days to Wembley now!)

CHAPTER 9

 

Dom paced the public bathroom, back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. Brought to a standstill when he reached one of the walls for the thousandth time, he glanced sideways at Matt, who was washing his face and cleaning the wound on his cheek.

 

The smaller man stared at his reflection in the mirror above the basin. The thin red line on his face caused by the attack at the park was no longer bleeding; his light grey trousers had another rip in the knee. None of it mattered. They had lost their one potential lead when the laptop was taken, its relevance skyrocketing now he understood how much the aggressors had desired it. They obviously cared little about Matt; it was the laptop the man in the tracksuit and his companion the previous day at the shopping centre had coveted.

 

Why hadn’t Matt been more persistent in his efforts to unearth whatever information was stored there? In trying to find a way to fix the Macbook once they discovered it was broken? They should have done everything, absolutely everything in their power. So many opportunities had been lost, so much time. And now it was too late.

 

“Let me see that.”

 

Dom’s hands were on Matt’s hunched shoulders, manoeuvring him around slowly so he could examine the gash, before looking him in the eyes. Matt didn’t return the gaze; he wanted to be angry, he should be pissed off at Dom and smack him for not letting him go back to recover the computer. But he couldn’t. Instead, there was something gripping tightly inside his chest, a choking sensation obstructing his throat.

 

The idea shaping in his mind wasn’t very sharp yet, the edges foggy; but it was there.

 

“What did you expect me to do, let you get caught?”

 

Matt simply turned away at the question, Dom’s hands dropping from the singer’s shoulders to his own hips. The grey eyes didn’t leave him, though.

 

“We need to go to Michelle’s and see if we can use her phone.” Unemotional and detached, that was the way his own voice sounded to his ears. As he headed for the exit, Matt felt strangely light without the weight of the bag he had become accustomed to carrying.

 

Pursing his lips, Dom only pulled his black hood over his head before following. He was going to get the silent treatment, he knew it. Matt was resentful at not being allowed to go back to try and retrieve the damn bag. But he was unable to feel any guilt over it and he was positive he wouldn’t change a thing if they were to go back in time and do it all over again. Those people were dangerous. They had guns, they would use any means necessary to achieve their goals. They probably would not hesitate to dispose of Matt if given the chance and the fact that they were satisfied with the laptop was good enough for Dom. So no, he didn’t regret his actions at all, whether Matt understood them or not. If they were going to be captured, then let it be by the police.

 

It was painfully true that they were back to zero now, though; the loss had been a devastating blow. Miserably empty-handed as they made their way to Michelle’s flat, even the prospect of speaking to Chris, which they had both been madly craving, had lost its thrill, the mood irrevocably dampened. By the time they reached the block where the cheerful transsexual lived and climbed the stairs, the two friends had yet to exchange a word.

 

“Oh, I knew you’d be back!” Michelle clapped her hands excitedly when she found them at her door again. Sporting another blond wig that reached her shoulders, this one had no curls, but was straight with a blunt fringe. Fake eyelashes were nowhere to be seen (yet), but her long nails were painted blue this time around.

 

She stepped aside to let them in, Matt’s face breaking into a cheeky grin. Dom was taken aback, but forced a smile as well nonetheless.

 

“Okay, what’s going on, what’s with all this tension? Oh, my god, what’s that on your face, Matthew?!”

 

Cotton wool, antiseptic, sticking plasters... Michelle babbled, her face awfully close to Matt's as she carefully examined the scratch that marred his skin, but the dark haired man laughed it off. Disentangling himself from her attentions, he advanced towards the room he and Dom had occupied the night before after asking for Michelle's consent.

 

“Hmmm, your boyfriend seems very ticked about something.” Michelle narrowed one eye suspiciously at Dom. “Is he mad at you?”

 

“He’s not my sodding boyfriend!” Matt cut in, voice carrying from the bedroom. “And I wouldn’t date him if he was the last living being on Earth!”

 

“Fucking twat,” Dom muttered lowly, clenching his fists. Breathe in, breathe out. If this was Matt’s way of dealing with his disappointment, taking it out on him, then he supposed he could handle it. Not like he’d never done it before.

 

“Oh, I love it, what a diva!” Michelle was giggling but then she suddenly stopped, wide eyes glistening. “You think he’d ever consider acting? I see unlimited potential for that man on a stage!” A hand flew to her mouth. “Vegas! Dominic, we could go together to Vegas! Tell me, have you ever been to Vegas?!”

 

Dom had to smile. However, they had an important task on their hands. “Actually, we were wondering if we could ask you a favour...”

 

***

 

Chatting continuously as she got ready for work, Michelle regaled them with stories from the club scene and her plans for Las Vegas, all, of course, while ceaselessly flirting. Matt was still pointedly ignoring Dom, despite being very engaged in conversation with their hostess, even going as far as discussing his favourite lubricant flavours after she announced she’d left a tube of blue raspberry lube in the bedroom the two Englishmen were sharing. Growing quieter and quieter, Dom only munched on the snacks she’d put out for them as he watched the two giggling together. Michelle was completely charmed by the singer, at one point asking for his opinion on her choice of outfit for the evening, the selection consisting almost exclusively of spandex and glitter. Dom had scoffed. As if Matt, strong candidate to win NME’s Worst Dressed award, knew anything about fashion.

 

“Isn’t that quite, err, uncomfortable?” Matt was leaning against the bathroom door frame as Michelle finished applying yet another layer of make-up. “You know, tits and a dick.”

 

“It can be such a turn on... You should try it at least once in your life!” She winked in her usual over-the-top manner. “I could show you-”

 

“No, no, I meant for you. I mean, isn't it confusing being a bloke and then...” He gesticulated as words failed him, the sleeves of his black v-neck sweater rolled up to his elbows.

 

Turning to him, she saw sincere curiosity behind the question. “I know who I really am. And I feel more comfortable now than ever before, I can tell you that much... You’ve gotta be who you’ve gotta be. If that means you have to deal with some shit along the way, then so be it!” A genuinely nice smile graced her features as she placed the brush she was using back in its case. “I have to go. Now boys, feel free to use the phone as much as you need to, order pizza, Chinese, whatever you want for dinner... and enough of this no talking to each other nonsense, I want it over by the time I get back!”

 

Kissing Dom on the cheek, she stroked his arm with another wink, glittery blue eye shadow nearly blinding him, and then went over to Matt, who had his back against the wall near the door, arms crossed over his chest. She held his face between her hands and, dipping down, pressed her bright red lips to the corner of his mouth, thumb brushing the lipstick away afterwards. He didn’t protest, hadn’t even attempted to pull back, and Dom looked away, trying to ignore the pull in his stomach. Tosser.

 

Matt wasn’t sure what made him ask. Maybe desperation; complete recklessness, perhaps. But the words were out of his mouth before he could think twice.

 

“Michelle, have you ever heard of a guy called Zhang Hongbo?”

 

The dark skinned hand froze on the door handle. Meeting Matt’s eyes slowly as she turned, the expression on Michelle’s face was a mix of panic and terror. “What?” She squeaked. “No. No, no, I don’t know who that man is.”

 

Dom stood from the armchair he'd been occupying for the past hour, hardly believing the scene. Her reaction obviously hadn’t escaped Matt’s notice, either, as he had moved to block her way out of the flat.

 

“You know who he is, don’t you? Is he alive? Who is he?” Matt whispered, his heart racing. “I have to know.”

 

Switching her stare between both her guests, something seemed to connect in Michelle's head. “You’re the musicians, aren’t you? You’re the guys in the band the police are after!”

 

Matt shook his head immediately, but there was no denying it. His indisputable alarm at the question gave him away.

 

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone about you, you're nice people.” Her head lowered as she tried to side step Matt and reach for the door handle again. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Matt insisted, holding her wrist and searching for her eyes. “Tell me what you know. I don’t know where else to turn, I’ve been set up.” He saw her grimacing, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please, Michelle, my life is being destroyed and I don’t even know why.”

 

She seemed to be going through a violent internal struggle, only a few cryptic words escaping in a whisper. “You have no idea what you’re asking. You shouldn’t be posing questions like that around here, Matt. It’s so dangerous...”

 

“I promise it won’t leave this room. I need to know where he is, do you know where he is?” He drew closer to her, staring intently into her scared face. “Please, help me.”

 

“I can’t!” Her eyes widened, head shooting up. “I’ll be dead before I can say his name!” Fixing an invisible blotch at the corner of her eye nervously, she muttered, “No one in Hong Kong will be able to help you, no one knows and those who do will not talk... If you got in his way, then... then you have to run.” She swallowed, but when she faced him again, her gaze was unwavering. “You have my word I won’t turn you in. But you have to promise me that you won’t ask me about this matter again.”

 

This deflated Matt. He could tell her words were in earnest, that she wouldn’t do anything to hurt them, but also that she would reveal no more about Zhang, regardless of his desperation. He'd heard enough, though, and as he didn’t wish to cause her any trouble, nodded in acquiescence and stepped aside so she could get past him and leave. She was gone after throwing them both a final weak smile, and silence followed her departure.

 

“Matt, she knows-“

 

“Shut up, I need to think.”

 

Dom strode towards his band mate in disbelief, but with a head shake, Matt was off to their room.

 

Dom kicked the wall when he heard the lock click, fists clenched so tight his nails dug painfully into his palms. What the fuck was wrong with Matt? They had just found out something crucial and now he didn’t want to discuss it? What was he playing at? Judging by Michelle’s terrified reaction solely at the mention of his name, Zhang was most certainly not a victim – what were the odds he was the one actually responsible for all this? It would probably be difficult to find anyone willing to cooperate in bringing him down, but at least now they knew he was not who he appeared to be. Someone should be able to investigate this lead properly, someone should find this information relevant to the case. Pacing the kitchen, eyeing the mobile phone on the table, Dom checked his watch again. Chris would be calling any minute now; he could relay this important news to the authorities, he could be the one to help them.

 

Dom wished so badly that he could discuss all this with Matt; he was acting like such a prick. They definitely needed to have a little chat after they talked to Chris.

 

It was 8:04pm when ‘Just Dance’ by Lady Gaga blared abruptly from the kitchen table and Dom snatched the phone up just as Matt came running in. The singer didn’t make any attempt to take it from him, just folding his arms as Dom answered the call.

 

“Hello?”

 

“D-Dom? Dom is that you?”

 

“Chris!” Closing his eyes with a smile, Dom was surprised at how emotional the sound of his friend at the other end of the line made him. “Chris, am I glad to hear your voice, man!”

 

“Jesus, so am I! Where’s Matt, he’s there with you, right? I’ve been sick with worry, tell me you’re okay!”

 

“We’re fine, Chris. Relying on the good heart of a tranny at the moment,” he chuckled, noticing the small smile on Matt's lips. “We’re hanging in there and we might have just found out something vital, too. Are you all home? How’s everyone?”

 

“Christ, it’s been a mess,” the bassist sighed. “I was the only one allowed to go home. We were all arrested at the airport and questioned. They made me talk to Matt when they reached him by phone that day and were pissed off when I didn’t tell him flat out to turn himself in. How could I when I just wanted to punch those fuckers?!” Chris' rage came across loud and clear, and Dom felt inexplicably proud of their friend. “Anderson was released from hospital this morning,” he continued darkly. “We thought he’d fractured some ribs, but turns out he’s just bruised and sore from the beating he took. Fuckers claimed he'd assaulted one of their officers, but it’s a fucking lie. All Tom’s equipment was seized, and Morgan is still stuck there, too, along with most of the crew...

 

“They aren’t allowed to leave the country, it’s ridiculous, a farce, and the government is a disgrace for not doing anything to help. Management are doing sweet fuck all as well, they seem to have ditched us to fend for ourselves. Tom told me they’d be off to the embassy again today. Wish I could tell ‘em I got in contact with you, but I’m not taking any chances. Of course, everyone’s crossing their fingers for you.”

 

Dom listened to the report avidly. “How did you manage to get home when they wouldn't let anyone else leave?”

 

“The police think I made a deal with them. They wanted me to work with them if you tried to contact me... told them I wouldn’t cooperate with shit until I saw my kids first, so here I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t negotiate everyone else’s return...” Dom noted the guilt in his voice, but Chris had done the right thing, in his opinion. He wouldn’t have been of help to anyone had he chosen to stay in Hong Kong. “I’m under surveillance pretty much 24 hours a day, though they think I don’t know. But really, how difficult is it to spot a stranger in Teignmouth?! My phones are tapped, too, and I never meet with the lawyers here at home, just in case... I’m calling from the kids’ school, it’s the only place no one can watch me. Thank fuck you managed to drop me a message, I thought the chances were low you'd see it when I sent that tweet, but I had to try to reach you somehow.”

 

“It worked, we were just afraid at first it was the police baiting us.”

 

“Enough of me, what have you two tossers been up to?”

 

“This is such a fucking scam, Chris, we can’t believe it.” Summarising what they knew, what they thought they knew, what they'd been doing and their most recent speculations, he tried not to let Matt’s unnatural silence and lack of interruptions affect him. He reckoned Chris' words were carrying over to him well enough, but he had expected Matt would want to contribute to the conversation. Usually, he never liked the way Dom relayed things and had to correct him. “So at this point we know that Zhang is probably alive and well and most definitely not who he seems.”

 

“That is so fucked up. As far as I know, nobody suspects he might be one of the orchestrators. They think he's another victim. I’m gonna have to drop this to the lawyers.”

 

“Yes, you have to. Also, I’ve been thinking about something else...” Dom glanced over at Matt. “I can testify that Matt wasn’t online or anywhere near a computer at the time one of those compromising e-mails was sent.”

 

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

 

The singer’s gaze was glued to the floor now, avoiding his eye as the drummer spoke. “Get the best lawyers you can find-“

 

“-already working on it-”

 

“-then tell them to start from Melbourne, that night of the tennis. Matt was... Matt was in my room for most of that night and I swear he didn't have his laptop with him and mine was packed away. He never touched it. Doubtful my word would be enough, but maybe with security footage from the hotel corridors and that, his alibi could be proved. Also, what about our police? Are they working with Hong Kong’s?”

 

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I get contradictory information all the time and I constantly have the feeling they're hiding stuff from me. But they won’t stop pressuring me to make it public that I want you guys to show yourselves at the embassy, that they can’t help you otherwise. Think they just want to end this fast, have someone, anyone to charge...” There was a slight hesitation. “Dom, you do know that they’re investigating you now, that they’re trying to tie you in to all this, too?”

 

“Fuck it, it’s not important now,” he quickly dismissed. Any charges he might face would be withdrawn once they’d proven Matt’s innocence. And they would prove it. “And Warners?”

 

Another sigh. “Not meddling, the lawyers are working on it, but things aren’t looking good. They’re auditing all the different companies, trying to find out what happened to all the money, so we’ll see what happens.”

 

“Well, that one’s easy.” Dom furrowed his brow. “They should know that already, it’s in Matt’s bank account, all seven million quid of it.”

 

Chris whistled at the other end of the line. “Seven? Then some fucker’s got the rest, ‘cos the figure I heard was much higher, Dom. At least 20 million missing so far, and it could be more.” Dom stared at his band mate, the blue eyes finally meeting his at this revelation. Matt was definitely having no problem hearing Chris. “Shit,” Chris coughed. “I’ve gotta go. What’re you doing now?”

 

Dom sighed. “I wish we could find the connection between Zhang and Matt, he swears he’s never even heard of the bastard before.” He paused as he noticed Matt stretching out his palm, silently asking him for the phone. He gave it to him gently, not sure what to think of Matt’s calm exterior when he had to be bubbling with nerves inside.

 

“Chris, it’s me. I’m so sorry for all this. I’m sorry that I got everyone involved-“

 

“Jesus, what are you on about?! The only thing that matters is that we get you out of this, Matt. The truth will come out, just hang in there, okay mate?”

 

Matt visibly choked up at this and Dom mercifully spared him of the effort of trying to find a response by grabbing the mobile again. “Alright, Chris. Same time tomorrow?”

 

“Same time tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do about the hotel in Melbourne and the Chinese guy. And Dom,” there was a pause and then he lowered his voice, “don’t let Matt do anything stupid. Take care, guys.”

 

Dom squeezed the device in his hand for a few moments before removing the SIM card and placing it in his pocket. It had been good to hear Chris’s voice. So good. He felt rejuvenated, knowing there was someone back home who had their backs, that they weren’t completely on their own in this. If they managed to stay in touch and share information, then maybe they'd get somewhere. The loss of the laptop to what he assumed now were Zhang’s people had to have consequences; he wondered what the following day would bring. Although he imagined hiding from the police would still be at the top of their list of priorities.

 

Alone in the kitchen now, Matt having disappeared as soon as the call was over, Dom wondered what the guitarist was cooking up. Most certainly something he was not going to like... In any case, he couldn't stand this protracted silence and now was definitely not the time to be at odds. They had to stick together no matter what. It was a policy that had served them well for more than half their lives, after all.

 

***

 

A depressing view of backstreet dodgy dealing and desperation met Matt's gaze as he stood looking out their bedroom window, a stark reminder of the incredible good fortune his life had once been home to. Was this what happened when things had been going too well for too long?

 

His mind had been wheeling furiously over the past hours, more so since Michelle’s off-guard revelation. But it had been great to hear from Chris, to know they were still tight, no matter how many miles separated the trio. He wished he could do something for Tom, Anderson and the rest of the guys; he wished Chris and his family had not been dragged into all this.

 

Staying in Hong Kong was no longer viable. He couldn't walk outside without looking over his shoulder every five seconds for fear of being followed, he had no resources; he'd lost the laptop to his enemies, who could now poison it with whatever fake evidence they wished before handing it over to the clueless police. But he had a priceless piece of information now – he knew who had orchestrated this diabolical scheme. It wasn’t a faceless crime syndicate, some mythical triad. That had only been a cover up. One man and one man alone had planned his downfall. The motherfucker was alive and probably swimming in the pool of money he’d stolen from Warners before faking his own death, using Matt as a scapegoat. 

 

He also knew what the next step was: get himself a fake passport so he could leave Hong Kong and travel to Macau. Michelle could help him, he was sure she could. It was obvious from her stories that it wouldn’t be the first time she‘d helped smuggle people in and out of the country, including herself. Macau was a short ferry ride away and in the casino industry - where Zhang had made part of his fortune - he would be able to survive. There, he could also discover who Zhang was, where he was and, most importantly of all, why he had decided to ruin Matt’s life. Admittedly, Matt could perhaps still contact the lawyers while remaining in hiding, he didn’t have to discard that possibility out of hand.

 

He would hunt that fucking bastard down and harass him until he had no choice but to show his face in public and confess his crimes, all the shit he’d done.   

 

Before all that, though, there was something he needed to take care of. It would not be easy, far from it, but he had to do the right thing, no matter how painful.

 

He had to make Dom leave him.



Comments

[altogingenting.livejournal.com]

This fic is absolutly amazing!

Don't let Matt leave Dom, I have a feeling Matt will get into trouble/do something stupid without him!

[mjartrod]

haha, they havent even split and he's already having crazy ideas lol!

thank you, im so glad you are enjoying the story :D