19 June 2014 @ 12:31 pm
Title: Upside Down
Author: [livejournal.com profile] kaossbells & [livejournal.com profile] mcsparklez
Beta: the wonderful [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.


[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3a] [Chapter 3b] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5a] [Chapter 5b] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7a] [Chapter 7b] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10a]



London – 24.08.2013

Dom was lounging on the sofa, his ankles crossed and an arm thrown behind his head, and watched a re-run of Sherlock. These days he did nothing much other than that; wake up, eat, watch telly all day, eat, go to sleep and repeat. Chris mostly left him to his own devices, happy to have his own kind of solitude. Kelly, however, had tried a couple of times to get him out of his stupor, clearly worried that he might fall into another hole, but he assured her that it wouldn’t happen and, if it still did, he’d come straight to her. She didn’t entirely believe him, but it had pacified her, at least for the time being, and she left him alone most of the time.

It was true, though. He was fine. Well, as fine as you could be, obviously. It seemed like the nightmare would never end and the pile of terrible things just got bigger and bigger. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Matt had been abducted, it had to be a collector psycho who thought the singer would be a perfect piece in his collection. Then the guy, their only suspect, ended up dead, in Matt’s house, of all places. And now? Where did they stand now?

Dom thought back to 6 months ago. They hadn’t worried about abduction and death back then. They had worried about the stadium tour and the following festivals and one-off gigs, about a new album, about the future.

The future.

Was there even a future for them now? He really wanted to believe that, yes, soon it would be alright again, but he was more careful now. He kept this hope, of course he did, but at the same time he tried to prepare himself mentally. For a bad outcome. For a future without Matt.

He frowned at that. Nothing he really wanted to think about, but nevertheless he couldn’t ignore it. He was wondering where Matt was now. His kidnapper was in the morgue, that much was clear, but there was still no trace of him. Dom scratched his newly grown beard (or rather, the poor attempt at growing a beard, as Tom would tease) and thought of his best friend.

There were so many possibilities to answer this question. First of all, Matt could either be alive or dead. He didn’t know which would be better for him. Dom was sure that the singer had endured some form of torture, not necessarily of physical nature. He knew that it needed more than just a threat to break Matthew Bellamy to be as submissive as he appeared in the most recent pictures, compared to the ones they had started off with. Matt didn’t break, not ever. They’d gone through so many hardships in their lives, mostly together, rarely apart, and even though it was hard Matt had never given up. Not on their dream when people had told them their music was shit and they’d never make it or that Matt wasn’t cut out to be a frontman. Not when Dom had wanted to give up after he’d lost his dad and thrown nasty words and his mother’s china against Matt’s head. Not even when they had worried for Chris’ health and didn’t know what to do.

And definitely not when Matt’s worries seemed to crush his little frame. The brunette wasn’t one to ask for help, which made it a lot more difficult to know when he needed it. But he and Dom were attuned to each other. Matt had always known when Dom needed him, much like a sixth sense. The blonde would have found it downright spooky if it weren’t the same for him. Maybe it was because they used to hang around each other 24/7 during tours and when they had still shared a flat, but he could just feel when Matt needed him, as if he was a part of him. They’d always come to each other, no matter the time of the day or the distance they had to bridge. Dom couldn’t come to him now and magically make things better, though.

For one sick moment Dom considered that it might be a relief for Matt to end up dead in a gutter. The thought scared him, even though he could see where it was coming from, so he had to close his eyes for a moment and take deep breaths to stop himself from going down that road even further.

The other option was that Matt had indeed killed this man or managed to get away. But why wouldn’t he show up then? They didn’t know the whole story and scale of this, hell, they only knew a little part of it. But maybe Matt knew more. For all Dom knew, Matt might’ve known everything and had deemed it unsafe to show his face. Who knew who else was behind this (and there had to be someone else if Matt hadn’t killed the guy in the morgue)? It could be someone just as wealthy and influential from The Guild. He thought of Ian and his interest in the case, but discarded that idea quickly. He wasn’t a master people reader, but he was sure that Ian didn’t have the balls to pull off something like this, especially not to kill someone. His features darkened when Dom let his thoughts wander into conspiracy theories. What if they knew the second person? It would explain how they had managed to track down the band each and every time on their tour (by now Dom fully believed that Matt had seen the bulky man at every concert and in front of the hotel). It could be anyone. A techie or management were the first thoughts that came to his mind. These people knew their schedule by heart, but it could also be someone from the restaurants they frequented, their hairdressers etc. etc. Someone who might have overheard them talking about their plans. There were nearly endless possibilities.

He wished they knew more. The uncertainty was killing him, he already felt helpless enough, but being in the dark made it so much worse.

Dom grabbed the remote and switched the channel when Sherlock had ended and the news were about to be presented. He didn’t think they’d still talk about Matt, it had been too long to be news-worthy for the media (and in that moment Dom realised just how long it had been), but he didn’t want to take any risks. So instead he settled on a nature program about elephants and fingered the sleeve of his shirt.

He could hear keys jingling in the distance which meant that Chris had returned from his visit to the police station. The doctor had given him the green light, so Kelly had allowed Chris to leave the house and resume his work. Dom hadn’t really felt up to the task of going back to the station yet, because he still couldn’t get the smell out of his nose, but Chris had assured him that he’d do just fine on his own. It wasn’t much they needed to do anyway, Whitman just wanted to give them an update. As he hadn’t called them, though, Dom figured there was nothing to give an update about except the personal data of the kidnapper. It was weird to finally have a name for him instead of calling him The Kidnapper in his head all the time.

Dom watched the baby elephant stumble over to his mother and cuddle up at her feet before he turned off the TV and got up from the sofa. He shuffled over to the kitchen where he could hear Chris and Kelly talking quietly. When the two came into view, his feet halted and he moved a bit to the side to stay mostly hidden.

They were wrapped up in a tight embrace in the middle of the kitchen with Chris’ back to the door. Kelly murmured something into her husband’s ear and then stroked his cheek. She looked worried and tired when her eyes met Chris’ and Dom wondered what they had been talking about just then. A soft kiss to Chris’ lips followed the previous action before they hugged closer.

Dom felt as if he was seeing something he wasn’t meant to see and he didn’t want to breach their privacy like this, so he tiptoed a few steps back just to walk in louder and alert them to his presence. He cleared his throat and coughed into his hand, just for good measure.

When he entered the kitchen, Chris was sitting at the table while Kelly busied herself with stirring the soup that was boiling on the stove. She looked up at him and smiled weakly. He returned the smile, but couldn’t help and wonder if she knew he’d seen them.

He sat down opposite of Chris, his usual position when they sat at the table, and eyed his friend for a moment. Chris didn’t look at him and his unusually evasive eyes told Dom that something was up. Had something happened? Chris would have told him immediately, though, no?

“Alright?” he asked quietly and held his breath.

To his relief Chris nodded and finally looked at him. The moment seemed to have been broken.

“Guess that also means no news?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “He only gave me details on Napolitano. Not much else.”

Dom figured that Napolitano was the kidnapper’s name. It sounded weird to him. The man didn’t look like a Napolitano (not that he knew what a Napolitano looked like). He signalled Chris to continue.

“Apparently the name’s Jon Napolitano. Early 30s. British but born in Italy somewhere. Didn’t particularly care about the details. Think Whitman said he didn’t have a wife or kids. No other kind of family left. Worked here and there, construction work, bistro, cleaner, nothing to pin him down.”

“Okay,” Dom nodded along and tried to catalogue the information in his head. It wasn’t information that would help with finding Matt, but it helped to organise them and get a clearer picture of the man behind all of this. Then his mind stopped at a particular detail.

“You said he worked here and there. But these jobs don’t seem like a huge money income to me? How could he afford such a vast collection with so little money? Unless…”

Chris nodded. “That’s what Whitman’s thinking as well. There has to be someone else behind this and Napolitano was just a puppet that they’ve gotten rid of now.”

Something else to add to the pile that was made of nightmares. Yeah, they’d already thought of that, Dom even had done so just half an hour ago, but if Whitman thought the same, and there were clear signs, then it could be true. A second psychopath was dangerous, and if they had no qualms with getting rid of their own partner, he didn’t want to imagine what they’d do to Matt.

Dom sighed. “Does this mean we’re back to zero, though?”

“No, not entirely. The profile they’ve done of the abductor still applies and they could add something to it.” Chris chuckled. “A profile. I feel like someone in those American FBI shows.”

They kept quiet for a bit, Chris looking at the table top, Dom watching Kelly. She had moved around a lot to prepare their dinner and pretended she wasn’t listening in on their conversation. Dom knew her better than that, though. It wasn’t like she went around eavesdropping on people, and, really, she deserved to know as much as everyone else involved. One evening just a couple of days ago, when Dom and Kelly had been alone because Chris had called it an early night, his head aching too much to keep his eyes open, she had told him that she didn’t want to know all the gruesome details because it made her worry so much more. She was a mother and constantly worried about her kids, but knowing that sick people like this walked around freely made her skin crawl and blood run cold, she had said. Dom had been about to apologise for bothering her so much with this, but as if she could read his mind she had spoken up and told him that it was okay because she needed to know if she wanted to take care of her boys. It had taken Dom a bit to realise that he was included in the group of her boys, and it had made his insides feel so warm that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from hugging her tightly.

When the first kids ran into the kitchen he was pulled out of his thoughts. Chris’ features immediately changed to a more relaxed state, and he picked up Buster to say hello properly. Dom plastered on an extra big smile himself and helped Kelly with the soup.
___

After dinner Chris and Dom had ushered Kelly out of the kitchen. She had prepared dinner, so it was only fair that they’d tidy up and wash the dishes.

The mood wasn’t exactly tense, but it was kind of awkward to stand next to each other without talking. Dom carefully dried each bowl and stacked them up on the counter so Chris could put them in the cupboard afterwards. Once they were done the taller man moved to the fridge and produced a bottle of beer for Dom. The drummer thanked him and took a huge gulp, feeling the liquid flooding down his throat.

Chris opted for a bottle of lemonade and sat down at the table. He eyed Dom, who got the hint and sat down, too. Soft music was floating around the kitchen, the radio still on from when they had started tidying up. Dom fingered the rim of his bottle and softly hummed to himself.

“I wonder how long this will continue.”

Dom turned to face Chris. The bassist was hunched over, holding the bottle with both hands. Once again Chris didn’t look at Dom and preferred to stare at the label of the lemonade, at which he picked with his right thumb.

“Hopefully not much longer,” Dom replied. There was no point in staring at Chris like that, so he moved his gaze to his own bottle. The situation was weird. “Can’t imagine the police taking much longer to find wherever he is.”

“I don’t know, mate. It’s been a month.”

“But Whitman is a good cop,” Dom nodded to himself, “he promised to solve this, so he will.”

A hum was the only reply he got and they resumed their previous silence. Dom wasn’t used to this. People always assumed he was the happy bloke without a single care in the world who always found the right words. However, the truth was that he had no idea what to say to one of his best friends. Chris had supported him constantly and Dom had managed to sponge up some of that power and hope to get through. But now that Chris apparently needed some encouraging words he felt like a failure.

“Wanna jam for a bit?” Chris spoke up.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna jam? I feel like picking up the bass and just play something.”

Dom hesitated. “I don’t know, mate. Haven’t felt like playing since we finished the tour.” In truth, he just didn’t feel like it when the one other thing that made him feel as happy as music was missing.

“Come on, it can’t hurt. Just for an hour or so.”

Without waiting for a reply, Chris got up from his chair and threw the bottle in the bin. Dom followed him, stumbling a bit, and did the same while Chris let Kelly know they wanted to be undisturbed for a bit. Then they both walked down the stairs to the little studio Chris had set up in the house.

“Is my kit still there?” Dom asked, more for conversation sake than actually caring.

“Yeah. Haven’t been down there since we hung out together.” Which had been shortly before the stadium tour, Dom remembered.

Chris unlocked the door and they slipped inside quietly. The place was rather small, not comparable to a proper studio, of course, but it served its purpose. Dom looked around and spotted his old drumkit in the back of the room, just as expected. It had served its purpose during the Resistance tour, and Dom hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, so nowadays it served as his hobby drumkit whenever he felt like jamming.

He walked over and touched the crash cymbal timidly, as if the thought of playing the drums was a completely new idea to him. In a way, it was.

He sat down on the stool and overlooked the studio. He imagined sitting behind the drums during one of their gigs, where he could see the whole crowd from his position. He could see the people at the barrier in front of his inner eyes. He could see their ecstatic smiles and hear their happy screams. He could feel the vibrations running through his body, and, suddenly, the idea of playing wasn’t this new to him anymore. Instead, he felt a yearning to go back on tour and play gig after gig until he was so exhausted he could fall asleep on his feet.

He grabbed the drumsticks and balanced one of them on his fingers, twirling it around. Then he hit the toms softly, the resonating sound feeling like an extra heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Chris walked over to his spot and picked up one of the basses. He plugged it in and tried it out for a couple of minutes, just like Dom did with the drums.

The drummer watched his bassist’s movements, content to just enjoy the return of this feeling of being home. He hadn’t expected this or he wouldn’t have waited so long. His fear and pain weren’t erased, but just sitting here was like a comfort blanket. He was wrapped up in something he knew and which connected him to Chris and Matt in more than one way. Matt. He looked over to the spot that the singer usually occupied. The Black Glitter Manson still leaned against the chair, just waiting for her master to return.

“So, what do you want to play?” he asked Chris when he managed tear his eyes away from the guitar.

Chris struck a string idly, thinking about what to play. “Just go through some jams? Can progress from there, I guess.”

They started off with some random jams they’d done over the years, starting from what the fans labelled as the Helsinki Jam and went through some random songs from Nirvana to Rage Against the Machine. There wasn’t any system behind it, just one of them starting and the other joining in.

After about half an hour they decided to take a small break. Chris went to retrieve some water from the mini fridge in the corner, while Dom wiped his face with his arm. He felt a strange mix of comfort and uneasiness. Music was his life, so it was only natural that he felt at ease when playing. But there was the fact that a part of his life that was probably just as big and important was missing. He wasn’t exactly crushed or depressed at the moment, but there was a certain sadness lurking in the back of his mind. Matt was simply missing in every part of his being.

Chris nudged him with a water bottle and Dom took it gratefully. He gulped down the whole bottle in record time, he was that dehydrated from playing just a short amount of time. The bottle was still cold, so he pressed it against his cheek to cool down his face. He then threw it into a nearby bin and gave a pleased sigh.

Chris leaned against the wall behind Dom and drank his water a lot slower than the blonde. There was a soft smile on his face, indicating that the jamming session had done him well. Making music had always been a form of stress relief for them, so it was no wonder that it helped with the built up frustration now. Dom himself felt like at least a bit of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. Still, he couldn’t shake the slight feeling of discomfort and the tiny voice in his head that said it was all wrong.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Chris commented quietly and took another gulp of his water.

Dom watched his crash cymbal move slightly. “Yeah. Was good. Though…”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know. It’s not the same without Matt. It sounds… wrong.”

Dom could immediately feel the room go cold and tense. The air suddenly felt too charged, too dangerous. He turned around slowly and faced the bassist, not expecting the stony expression he was met with. Chris frowned at him, his eyes narrowed to slits. Had he said something wrong?

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dom!” Chris exploded. He threw the bottle against the wall. “It’s always the fucking same, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“It’s always about Matt with you. Matt here, Matt there. Does it even matter that I’m here?”

What the fuck?

“Of course it matters. What kind of question is this?” Dom was confused. Where was all that coming from?
Chris snorted. “A good question. I haven’t heard anything from you but whining about Matt for weeks now. I’m sick of it.”

Dom rose up from his stool, his anger rising with him. What the hell did Chris think he was doing? Of course Matt was his number one topic. “You do realise that Matt’s been abducted? So excuse me for being worried sick and missing him.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t fucking care?”

Chris sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. For a moment he looked tired. The look was quickly replaced by the angry face Dom had seen when he had first turned around, though.

“It means that I don’t fucking care about your worries or about Matt. I’m done with all of this.”

Dom gasped. “The fuck did you just say?”

“I’m done,” he said and moved away from the wall. Dom jumped into his path to block him from leaving. “Move.”
“No,” the drummer shook his head. “I’ll move once you stop saying this bullshit. You don’t give two fucks about Matt anymore, is that what you’re saying?”

“You got that right.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” The bassist had to be joking, right?

“No. No, I think for the first time in a while I’m seeing clear. It’s always been about him, hasn’t it? His constant need to be the centre of attention. Well, he definitely got that now.”

The blonde’s hands automatically turned to fists at his sides. His anger was boiling hot, his vision turning a bright red mixed with blinding white. His body was shaking madly now and if he wasn’t careful he knew he’d lunge at Chris and beat the living daylights out of him. Air rushed through his nostrils.

“Go fuck yourself, Chris. Seriously.”

The bassist laughed at that. His laugh sounded somewhat bitter and too dark for his voice. It sounded like someone else was standing in front of Dom. “Did I hurt your feelings? Do you have to jump to Matt’s defence, just like you’ve always done?”

“I don’t have to jump to anyone’s defence,” the drummer snapped. “I just can’t stand your bullshit talk. Pretending that Matt doesn’t matter to you. We both know that’s not true.”

“Things change,” Chris shrugged and moved passed the frozen blonde, “and at this point he doesn’t. I’m glad he’s gone, he-“

Suddenly the bassist found himself being shoved into the wall by a very furious Dom. The blonde held him with his underarm on Chris’ chest. He wouldn’t be able to hold Chris if he decided to use his strength, obviously, the taller man could push him off any time, but it did the trick for now. They were standing nose to nose, with Dom standing on his toes to match Chris’ size. He was so tempted to let his fist connect with his friend’s face, to make him hurt and beat him until he took back every word he’d uttered in these past minutes, but his fist halted.

He’d done the same just a couple of weeks back. He’d said and done things he didn’t mean, just to relieve his pain. He had wanted to make others hurt just as much as he had been hurting and had said things to Chris that still made him want to puke whenever he thought of them. He’d picked up that Chris was taking this a lot harder than he let on, he just hadn’t expected it to be this bad for him, too.

“You’re just saying all of this because you’re angry and desperate, I get it,” Dom said calmly. His anger had ebbed away just as quickly as it had come. The bassist didn’t reply.

Dom let go of him, but his eyes were still trained on Chris’ face. He continued just as calmly, “You hate the helplessness and the not-knowing. And because Matt’s the reason why it’s happening, you want to hate him for it.” He grabbed the taller man’s wrist and squeezed gently. “I understand. It’s okay.”

And just like that, Chris’ defences crumbled.

“Shit.”

His shoulders sagged and his whole body shook. Chris looked up at the ceiling and Dom could see moisture threatening to leak from his eyes.

“Shit,” Chris swore again and furiously wiped at his eyes.

Dom just stood there and watched him because he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to ask “why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?”, but he really had no right to demand an answer to that. There had been signs that, maybe, Chris wasn’t as level headed and cool as he appeared to be. Their talk after Dom had apologised, Chris’ reaction after the morgue, and the sadness in his eyes just this evening had been the biggest warning signs and they were now ringing in Dom’s head. Too late, of course. He didn’t want to find excuses, but he wouldn’t feel guilty about it, either. There were too many bad feelings around them now, he didn’t need that, too.

“Do you want to punch me?” Dom asked.

“What?”

“Dunno. Figured it might help.”

At that, Chris actually laughed and Dom relaxed. His laugh sounded much more like Chris again, warm and friendly.

“Thanks, mate. But I’ve done that already and let me tell you, it wasn’t beneficial to your face.”
They chuckled together until Dom realised that he was still holding his friend’s wrist. He let go of it and awkwardly stood there.

“Are you feeling better now, though?”

“I want him back so badly,” Chris whispered so quietly Dom had to strain his ears to hear it.
He nodded. “I know, me too.”

Dom moved to stand on Chris’ right side, with his back against the wall, and then slid it down to sit on the floor. Chris raised an eyebrow at him and Dom couldn’t help but grin sheepishly. He signalled him to sit down as well, and Chris followed him. They were mostly blocked from view by the drumkit. So if anyone came inside now, they could collect themselves before they had to face whoever it might be. That also meant that they could talk openly now.

“I’m so fucking scared. That guy is dead, so where is Matt now? What if he’s dead, too? Or injured and left to die in his dirty fucking prison?” He punched his own thigh in frustration.

“You said yourself that whoever is behind this is a collector and wants him in their collection. So I don’t think he’s dead.”

“You don’t know that, though. It could have been him in the morgue, it-“ Chris stopped himself.

Dom swallowed. This was all so new, with their roles switched like that.

“When we were in the morgue and had to identify the body,” he started, “I had a moment where I saw Matt lying there. Dead, with a bullet through his skull.”

He heard a gasp from his side and couldn’t help but cast his eyes downwards. He picked at one of his shoe laces and recalled the whole situation in his head. The only thing that ranked even higher in his list of terrible dreams he’d had since Matt was gone was the nightmare where Matt had told him that he hated him and had then died in his arms.

He shuddered, then collected his thoughts again before he continued, “But it wasn’t him. And that’s good enough for me. At least for now.”

Chris hummed and they fell back into silence. It felt all too bizarre to Dom, how he suddenly was the strong one and Chris needed support. After his breakdown he’d worked hard to get to the point Chris and the others had already been at because he didn’t want to put any more pressure on them. But now he had to realise that it was all a façade, and that underneath Chris was just as broken as he was. Instinctively he wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder. In turn, Chris pressed his side to Dom’s and moved a hand to Dom’s left knee to squeeze it. It was a similar picture to nearly 2 months ago; same situation, same position, same people. The only difference was their role reversal.

“When he’s back I’ll cook him pasta. His favourite.”

It was a silly thought, but Dom liked the turn of events in their conversation. Talking about Matt coming home was nice.

“Oh please, Chris,” he laughed openly in the bassist’s face. “You can’t even heat up canned soup!”

He was rewarded with a punch to the arm, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to hurt for a moment. He let out a loud “ouch”.

Chris grumbled, but he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Fine. Kelly can cook then. She loves to cook anyway, especially for him.” Then he looked to the wall that had been hit with the bottle. “I guess I should clean that up.”

They both got up from the floor, first Chris, who held out his hand to help Dom up and then started to tidy the room. While Chris retrieved another towel to dry the wall, Dom walked over to the black guitar. The instrument wasn’t plugged in, but Dom moved his fingers to play a few chords, anyway. The room stayed eerily quiet and Dom couldn’t help but think that this was a perfect metaphor for their current situation.

He was alerted by a knock on the door. When he looked over he saw Kelly peaking inside the room. She looked uncertain somehow.

“Um… CI Whitman is here. He… wants to talk to Dom?”

The blonde searched for Chris and found him looking just as confused. Just him? Weird.

Anyway, they quickly packed away the remaining stuff and then moved to the living room together where Whitman was already waiting. However, he wasn’t alone. There were 2 officers flanking his sides, which only added to their confusion.

“Mr Howard, Mr Wolstenholme,” the CI greeted them grimly. He didn’t extend his hand in greeting.

They both nodded their hello and Chris asked, “What’s going on? Are there any news?”

“Kind of,” he turned to Dom. “Mr Howard, I must ask you to come with us to the station. Only you.”

“What?” the drummer asked, clearly confused. “Why?”

Whitman nodded at one of the police officers, who then pulled out a pair of handcuffs and walked over to Dom. Chris moved to stand between them. “What’s going on? Whitman!”

“I’m sorry, Mr Wolstenholme, but I must ask you to let Mr Howard go with us. Don’t make this any more difficult and let us do our job.”

“I’m not making this difficult, you-“

“Chris.”

The bassist turned around to Dom, who softly smiled at him and walked past him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dom shrugged. He tried to appear as calm as possible, but in truth he just wanted to drop to the floor and curl up in fear. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He moved to the coat pegs and retrieved his leather jacket.

The bassist huffed and crossed his arms, but let Dom proceed. He couldn’t stand still, however, as one of the officers produced a pair of handcuffs to tie Dom up. Whitman was faster than him, though, and stopped his subordinate’s hand before Chris could even say a word.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Mr Howard won’t pose a threat or try to run.” He nodded at the drummer who nodded back at him.

Dom risked another glance at Chris who looked just as confused and lost as Dom himself felt, and then walked out of the door towards the police car, followed by Whitman and the two officers.

 
 
Current Music: Kristene Mueller - Homeward Bound
Current Mood: grumpy
 
 
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