22 April 2014 @ 11:06 pm
Title: Upside Down
Author: [livejournal.com profile] kaossbells & [livejournal.com profile] mcsparklez
Beta: the beautiful [livejournal.com profile] gypsyjaeger
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Belldom
Summary: Based on the mkmeme prompt: A rich music collector has almost everything he ever craved for, almost. One special object is still missing in his collection: Matthew Bellamy!
Warnings: language, violence
Feedback: Is like Matt Bellamy bathing in red glitter; fabulous.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and has never happened. We do not own any of the people mentioned and do not mean to offend.
Author’s note: Second part. Thank you for reading and a million thanks to everyone who's commented so far! Enjoy.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3a] [Chapter 3b] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5a] [Chapter 5b] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7a] [AO3]



17.08.2013 - London

“Stop being such a fucking pussy!”

“But it hurts!”

Dom watched the exchange in front of him, still shaking slightly. After the kidnapper had left and Dom had begged Chris to wake up, Kelly had flown down the stairs, ignoring Dom’s command to stay upstairs from earlier. She’d turned on the lights and once she had set eyes on the lifeless form of her husband, she’d run over and fallen to her knees in front of him to cry into his shoulder so hard that it made Dom’s heart break. To much of his relief, though, the bassist had moved right in that moment, murmuring Kelly’s name. It was weak, but it was there, and Dom had never felt as happy to hear the deep voice as he’d been then. After that they’d helped Chris up and placed him on one of the chairs of the dining table, and Kelly had rushed off to get the first aid kit while Dom had made sure to have an eye on his friend and call the police. He didn’t get much out of Chris, but what the bassist had told him was that he had found the kidnapper looking through the cupboard, apparently trying to find something. What exactly, they didn’t know. That particular drawer only held photos of them and drawings that the kids had done over the years. Chris had surprised him from behind, but the kidnapper wouldn’t go down without a fight, so they wrestled around the room with both landing some punches here and there until the bulky man had gotten the upper hand and knocked Chris over the head.

Now they were waiting for the police to show up while Kelly was taking care of the deep gash on Chris’ head, dabbing at it with a piece of cotton soaked in antiseptic.

“Can you be a bit more careful?”

“Can you stop being such a girl?” She actually rolled her eyes at him.

The bassist whined in reply, and Dom couldn’t help but chuckle. He was still shaken by the night’s events, but seeing his friend being so childish was amusing and, yes, girly was new and very entertaining. He’d have to file that away and tease him about it at some point, preferably when there was something between them so Chris couldn’t break his neck.

“There, done,” Kelly finally said and looked at her work. The plaster on Chris’ forehead looked a bit ridiculous and Dom would have laughed in his face if it had been under any different circumstances. Kelly kissed Chris’ forehead before she packed up the kit and went to the bathroom to stash it away again. On her way she passed Dom and laid her hand against his cheek. She thumbed it tenderly for a moment, giving him a bit of comfort, before she left the room.

Dom sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. So now they knew, Matt had been kidnapped by this man. It would’ve been too much of a coincidence if the same man whom Matt had told them about had now broken into their house while having nothing to do with his friend’s abduction. It wasn’t like they really needed a confirmation, of course, it had been obvious from the start, especially since Matt had left them a note. But now they knew without a trace of doubt. He didn’t know if that was good or bad, or if it would change anything at all, but it somehow felt like some form of progress.

He opened his eyes again and looked over to Chris who was still sitting at the table, gripping the phone they’d used to call the police tightly in one hand, the other hanging down limply. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed, and Dom noted the new thin sheen of sweat on the unusually pale face of his friend.

“You okay, mate?” Dom asked quietly and walked over to the table.

“Dizzy. Sick,” was the short reply he got. He doubted that was a good sign.

“You should get that checked. The gash might need stitches, too.”

“Later. Police first.”

He heard Kelly walking upstairs. She probably went to check on the kids who were all gathered in one of the rooms. They’d come downstairs at some point, woken up by the commotion, and had immediately started panicking at the sight of their father. Ava had sprung into action and had ushered them all upstairs with the promise of video games. It seemed to have worked as the kids immediately went with her. Only Alfie had stayed behind, asking how he could help. There wasn’t much to do yet, not until the police was there, so they had agreed that he’d help Ava with their siblings. He’d hugged his mum tightly before going to the kitchen to grab a tube of ice cream and heading upstairs.

“Are you sure about that? You took a nasty blow.”

Chris nodded, but he didn’t seem too convinced himself. He really didn’t look well, and even if he had, Dom doubted that a hit to the head was something that should be treated lightly. Especially not when the hit had been caused by something as heavy as an Xbox. Really, it was quite ironic in a way that the one item that had endured so much beating had now gotten its revenge. And so very bizarre. Anyway, he was sure Chris needed medical attention. The sooner, the better.

“Are you okay, though?” Chris asked after a while, and Dom looked down at the carpet.

“Yeah, I just-” he sighed. “Im sorry.”

At that, Chris cocked his head and immediately regretted the movement as his eyes fell shut again.

“I let him get away.”

“We both did.”

Dom moved a chair around so he could sit down in front of Chris. “But you were unconscious. I wasn’t. I should have stopped him. What if that was our only chance? Or what if he panics now and hurts Matt?”

“Dom,” Chris said and he sounded a bit stronger than before, most likely not because he was feeling better but because he wanted to get his point across. “I’m just glad at the moment that you and Kelly and my kids are okay. He knocked me out, so what chances would you have had against him? Don’t take it the wrong way, mate, but you’re about as strong as a cooked spaghetti.”

Dom huffed, but he knew that Chris was right, even if he was exaggerating.

“We’ll catch him. The police might be able to find something in this,” he pointed blindly around the living room, “chaos. And as for Matt, I think he’ll be safe for a little while longer. That’s probably the only good thing about this. That guy wants to show off, not kill him.”

Chris was right, Matt wasn’t being held for ransom or vengeance, but for collecting purpose. Considering how he’d talked about the singer on the boards, this man probably wouldn’t want to lose one of his most precious items. At least Dom hoped that that was the case.

In that moment, the doorbell rang and Kelly opened the door for the policemen. They immediately went to work to secure evidence, while another officer told Dom and Chris that CI Whitman would be with them in a moment.

Kelly joined them again and held Chris’ hand. “You need to see a paramedic.”

“I’m fine,” he protested, but Kelly wouldn’t let it go and Dom felt compelled to side with her.

“You look like shit,” he argued and winced immediately. Not the best thing to say, maybe. “Come on, you can talk to the police later. It’s important that you get that checked.”

Kelly looked at Dom before she fixed her husband again. “Please, darling.”

“Mate, come on.”

At long last, Chris sighed and nodded his agreement. “Alright, fine. But get me a bucket first, I think I’m about to be sick.”

Luckily, an ambulance had arrived together with the police, as Dom had mentioned on the phone that one of them was hurt, so it didn’t take long for Chris to get checked. The wound indeed needed stitching and the nausea and dizziness came from the concussion he’d sustained. He’d definitely have to get to a hospital for further examination. Chris refused at first, but Kelly’s Glare of Anger quietened his protests in an instant.

“I’ll drive with him, is that okay?” she asked Dom and shrugged on her jacket. “Ava and Alfie are taking the kids to Amber. I’ve just called her and she’s okay with it. So you’ll be alone with the police and-”

“Kelly, relax,” he interrupted her and touched her arm. “I’ve got this. You take care of your husband. I’ll do the rest here.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I know anything new.”

With that she left the house and climbed into the ambulance to accompany Chris to the hospital.

Dom turned around to watch the police officers do their work and spotted CI Whitman talking to one of them in the hallway, so he walked over to give his statement as quickly as possible.

“Mr Howard,” the CI greeted when he spotted him. “I guess you’ll have some explaining to do.”
___

???

Wow, this really was a big ass house. Matt had been running and opening doors for at least ten minutes now and it seemed like there was no end to it. What he had found out, though, was that he had been held hostage in the basement. Now he had finally reached ground floor level, but still there was no sign of an exit. No big wooden door, no real windows.

“What kind of a fucked up hiding place is this?” he mumbled under his breath, but kept running, not like but because his life depended on it.
When he opened another door, there were more stairs and for a moment he wondered whether there were two below-ground storeys. He ran up the flight of steps and was suddenly blinded by bright light. There was a whole wall of windows and the garden beyond the glass was stunning. Matt couldn’t help but stop in his tracks for a moment.

What caught his attention wasn’t the beautiful view. Far from that, really. It was the fact that it was broad daylight. Shit, his inner rhythm was completely fucked up. Before he resumed his flight, his eyes found a digital watch on the far wall of the room. It was quarter past eleven on the 17th of August. For a second he tried to remember the date of his abduction but couldn’t for the life of him.

What did it even matter, though?

In a swift motion he turned around and quickly made his way down yet another hallway. This time there were pictures on the walls and decorations everywhere. If he hadn’t known better he would have said that this was a woman’s house or at least that of a family.

When, finally, the front door came into view, all his thoughts focussed on that. He didn’t care if Psycho had a family and had secretly kept him in the basement for his perverse enjoyment. All he wanted was to get out.

His breathing came in heavy and strangled puffs when his hand cramped around the door handle and pushed it down. Then he pulled. Nothing happened. His heart seemed to stop beating for an incredibly long and painful moment. He tried again, but the door remained unyielding.

“No, no, no!” Matt cried out and banged his fists against the dark, heavy wood.

Okay, okay, okay. There had to be another way out, he just had to calm down a little. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned around again, scanning his surroundings. There were doors on each side of the corridor. His best chance was to go back to the room with the window wall. Maybe he could get into the garden and continue his escape from there.

The singer leaped forward and in his hurry to make it back to the room, he didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the house anymore. Out, out, out, was all he could think of. His bare feet made smacking sounds on the tile floor as he hurried back into what was probably the main living room of this residence.

Matt almost crashed into the glass front in his haste. There was no window that stood out from the others, none that looked like it could be used as a door. But he was prepared to try each and every single window. No way would he give up now. If all else failed, he would just have to smash it in.

He had a strong sense of déjà vu as he stood in front of the first window, clad only in a shirt and his boxer shorts, and fumbled with the handle. It didn’t work, though, so he went over to the next window. The hope that had swollen in his chest numbed all other feelings and a little setback wouldn’t change that.

So, naturally, he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. He didn’t see the gun that was raised. He didn’t see the hand that let the pistol grip swing at his head. He only heard the dull whack of the eventual impact and felt the explosion of pain that spread from the back of his head, down in his spine, and through his whole body. He felt his knees buckle and his body sagging. Then everything went black.
___

He felt weird. His vision was nothing but red. Why, though? He didn’t understand. His thoughts went from blank to chaos in less than a second. Had it always been red? Was it blood? But why should it be blood? Hadn’t there been hope? But what exactly had he been hoping for? He couldn’t remember, his head was a mess. A dull pain in his neck made itself known. It travelled up into the back of his head and suddenly exploded, spreading everywhere.

The next thing Matt realised was that his body was swaying back and forth. But why? His stomach protested at the movement and he felt like he was about to be sick. His consciousness was slowly coming back, but still he couldn’t open his eyes. Oh. It was only then that he noticed they were closed in the first place. It explained the redness of his surroundings. His neck was resting against something warm and soft while his head dangled in the air. He had no control over it and his headache intensified with each back and forth.

Then there were voices. Two of them if he wasn’t completely mistaken. At first he found them indiscernible and muffled as if there was a pillow pressed over his ears. Only when his hearing returned did he recognise his kidnapper’s low drawl. The second voice was higher and sounded somehow familiar. For some reason it made him feel safe. Safe from what, though? Kidnapper? Oh. Oh shit.

Suddenly there was a flood memories and images rushing back into his head and he remembered everything. Who had unlocked the psycho from his prison? Hadn’t he already reached the front door? Yes, he definitely had. But then there had been pain followed by blackness. He had been knocked out again. How long ago had that been? All the thinking exhausted him to no end and made his head hurt even more.

“You complete imbecile!” the safe voice said. “Trust you to fail at even the simplest of tasks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” The man sounded scared. Of what?

“Of course you didn’t mean to. You never do! And still you are nothing but a failure.”

“He caught me off guard, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“He is half your size, stop making excuses. And it is not only that. You came back from the Wolstenholme house with a black eye and, more importantly, empty-handed. You really are the definition of ‘waste of space’. I relied on you and you let me down time and time again. It is not only that you got caught by his friends, no. Of course you weren’t even able to deal with them.”

“I tried! But that Wolstenholme guy is strong. I did manage to knock him out, though.”

Chris? Matt tried to open his eyes. He finally felt there again. He was being carried in strong arms. Arms which had hurt him more than once, he knew that. But he couldn’t focus on it right now. The second voice, he knew it and he wanted to see the face that went with it desperately. What had happened to Chris? Was he okay? Oh God, what if he wasn’t?

“I said stop making excuses! You almost broke Matthew’s bones when you brought him here. Tell me, how is it possible that one person can do so much damage? I should have done it, all of it, alone. From the very start. You are a useless idiot.”

“Please, I’ll do better next time. I promise, I’ll not disappoint you again.”

“No, indeed you won’t.”

The second voice had a dangerous tinge to it and Matt found himself starting to shake. He’d never heard it this furious and cold before. Far from it, really. He remembered it being warm and shy and…

“Suzanne?”

Slowly he started to open his eyes although the glaring light stung them and they instantly started to cloud over. But there she was. Suzanne. His favourite waitress, walking closely behind him and the kidnapper. Their eyes met and she froze to the spot, as did his carrier.

“Matthew,” she breathed, wide-eyed. Then she stepped closer and ran her fingers through his hair. To inspect his head, as he soon noticed. “How are you feeling?” she asked almost softly and then proceeded to scold him. “You should not have tried to run, that was foolish. If you hadn’t, there would have been no need to stop you. But you didn’t leave me much choice. I had to hurt you. And now look at you, all messed up and bloody.”

The young woman pursed her lips and wiped away a stray drop of blood that was running down from his temple. He could do nothing but stare at her. Slowly his brain started to catch up and made the final connection.

“You?”

He looked up at the mortified expression of the kidnapper whose eyes were trained on Suzanne. He followed his gaze again. She was still looking at him, mouth tightly shut.

“It was you? But I thought-”

“Shhh, Matthew. Stop. You are bleeding. We need to take care of that, clean you up.”

Oh God. What? His head was still hurting like a bitch, but he started to struggle, lashing out at the man who was carrying him. But of course it was in vain. The grip on his limbs was tight and he could already feel bruises starting to form on his skin again. In addition he felt completely worn out and weak. He should have eaten more. He should have tried to rest properly. He could have made it! He could be free now had he only prepared himself better. His body went limp again, but his brain was still running at top speed.

“What the hell is going on here? What are you doing?”

“Shush, Matthew, you have already done enough damage for today. You should rest now. There is still a lot of work ahead and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. In addition, I have a few things to discuss with Jon.”

She side-eyed the bulky man as they entered his cell again. No, no, no, he’d come so far… Now he was where he had started and would probably never get a chance to escape again. He would die in here, Matt was sure of that. He would die and never see his friends again. He would never get a chance to tell Dom. That thought tore at his heart more than he felt was appropriate. But he missed him. So very badly.

The kidnapper, Jon his name was, laid him down on the mattress non too carefully, and his head bumped into the wall at the head of the bed. For a moment he saw sparkly stars which distracted him from the people who were standing next to him. He felt like passing out again, and oh wouldn’t that have been salvation? Maybe… maybe there was only one permanent way out of here. He didn’t want to die, but… What if it saved his friends? In a way it would save him.

His head kept throbbing furiously and there was not an ounce of strength left in his body. With it, his will to fight had gone, too. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Although he wasn’t exactly the person to give up easily, he was beyond exhausted. And not only in a physical sense. His mind was in pieces, his emotions clouding his thoughts so he couldn’t even think straight anymore.

Was this it? Had he finally reached his breaking point? It sure felt like it to him.

Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere Suzanne had produced a cold, wet cloth with which she started to dab the blood from his forehead and face. Had she left to get it? He didn’t know, his vision got blurrier by the minute and, quite frankly, he didn’t care too much about anything anymore.

Except for his friends. Always his friends. He was actually amazed by the determination that thought brought back into his mind. But, unfortunately, it didn’t change the fact that his body was completely drained. He felt like he couldn’t move if his life depended on it. Which it very much did right now.

“What do you want? Suzanne, please…” His eyes fluttered close as he forced the words out quietly.

“Matthew, I have told you more than once. And I do not understand your resistance, to be honest. You were doing great and then you had to go and ruin all our progress.” She shook her head at the beat brunette. “You really disappointed me, you know?”

“I honestly don’t-” he started to reply but was cut short when a hand was clamped over his mouth.

“No, shush. I told you not to exert yourself,” she berated him harshly, and only when he made no further move to fight her and instead went utterly limp, she took her hand away again.

Then, she turned back to Jon and positively glared at him. He’d been standing behind her the whole time and, hadn’t he been rather muscular and well controlled, he would’ve been shaking under her dangerous gaze now.

“What are you waiting for? Go and tend to his wounds. You know where the bandages are, right? We do not want him to suffer any more damage than you have already caused.”

When another, rougher pair of hands started to work on his head, Matt’s eyes flew open again. He was staring directly into Jon’s eyes, and the other man looked scared. Not nervous like before, but actually scared. It was just Suzanne, how could he be frightened of this tiny woman? But when he caught a glimpse of the grim determination on her face, he immediately reconsidered his first impression of her.

She was downright scary right now. Her jaw was set, making her features appear harder and straighter than usual. Her eyes were cold and adamant, while her lips were pressed into a thin line. The rest of her body wasn’t as rigid, though. Quite the contrary even, she was walking back and forth in front of the still halfway opened door, seemingly not able to contain her anger.

Jon was kneeling beside him then, fumbling around with a metal box that had been in one of the locked drawers of the bedside table. Matt already knew that it was where they kept the bandages and antiseptics and what not. He bit down on his tongue and let out a pained hiss when a drop of the burning liquid came in contact with the gash on his cheek. Matt could feel Jon’s fingers shaking when he tried to put a plaster over the deepest part of the wound. It was a little weird how he was suddenly overcome by a sense of sympathy for the man. He seemed to be completely under Suzanne’s control. Said sympathy didn’t last long, though, as he remembered everything that man had done to him and his friends.

“It has been you all along, hasn’t it?” he finally whispered, all the pieces finally falling into place. This explained everything. Jon did not have any sort of personality disorder. There had actually been two people the whole time. Suzanne stopped in her tracks.

“Of course, did you really think that idiot of man would have been able to pull this off on his own? He does not even have the slightest appreciation for music. He is nothing but a means to an end.” Suzanne’s words made Jon’s head snap up.

“But I thought-” he started.

“No, Jon. No, you didn’t think. That is why you have been such a good hand. A hand, nothing else.” She gave him a look that spoke of pure contempt.

“Suzanne, I love you, you know that!” Jon’s voice rose with desperation.

The young woman actually smirked at that. “Yes, I do know that. Thank you, it has been very… convenient.”

Matt’s eyes widened in horror as he followed the conversation. This nightmare was getting worse by the minute. Now he understood how she had been able to get so close to his friends. They trusted her. And who could’ve even imagined her to be a criminal psychopath? It was beyond him.

“You’re a bloody freak!” he squeaked, voice higher than he had anticipated. “Has this been your plan all along? Getting close to us and then kidnap me? Staying close to my friends so you could scare me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And here I was thinking that you were not as dull as the rest of them. A brilliant musician, but dull all the same.” Her hand was steady and controlled as she moved it behind her back.

“Suzanne,” Jon gasped, clearly aware of what she was doing.

“I have really had it with you,” she hissed.

Matt tried to understand what was going on, his eyes fixed on her still hidden hand. Then, he swallowed hard and managed to pull himself into a sitting position although his head was spinning violently. It reappeared with a gun. A bloody gun! She had pulled it from her waistband. It had been there the whole time.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt shrieked and surprised himself with his ability to talk through his shock and horror.

“It is about time you realise what I am capable of. I do not appreciate the way I am treated around here.” Her voice was low and her face spoke not only of determination but also madness. It was clearly visible in her every feature as she raised the gun, not wavering for a second.

Matt saw the muzzle, pitch black and promising an ending he had never even dreamt of. He squeezed his eyes shut and the numb feeling that spread through his limbs made him believe that he was already dying. No, no, no, he took it all back, I don’t want to die, not here, not like this!

His mind went blank when the click of the slide rang in his ears and the bullet slid into the barrel. Every sound was too loud. His body was shaking, but he couldn’t feel it. In a way Matt was even anticipating it with a feeling of guilty relief. When the lethal bang finally came, it was excruciatingly loud, but at the same time soothing.

Then there was nothing.

 
 
Current Music: Frank Turner - Broken Piano
Current Mood: weird
 
 
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