lalalive23 | Between The Flesh And The Glass: 5/??

Title: Between The Flesh And The Glass
Author

lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warning: Explicit language
Summary: AU. The year is 2166. Matt works as a cryogenicist for the International System of Health. He volunteers to be the first person cryogenically frozen for 100 years.
Feedback: Tastes like a chocolate rainbow.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. This never happened (well, not yet). I don't make money off this. My whole life is a waste lol.
Note: Oh my god, do you have any idea how much I missed this story? HOW MUCH I MISSED THIS WORLD? I can't even tell you. I've been away for a while due to a lot of reasons that pretty much all of you know about, but what matters is that I'm writing when I can. Something happened while writing this chapter that I was completely unprepared for and that would be I fell in love with this Dom?? I don't know how that happened. Cheers to

sunshine_173 for being the best beta boo and to

millionstar and

chess_boxing for reminding me how much I love this story. Enjoy!

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I was starting to confuse the sound of my heartbeat with the computerized clicks of the monitors throughout my room. When I felt myself drifting back to reality, the first thing I became aware of was how pleasantly even the rhythm was. I waited for the overwhelming flood of adrenaline to send me plummeting back into fear, but when it didn't come I knew I'd been heavily sedated. My body felt heavy and limp, and I knew I'd been given a friendly concoction of drugs to keep me still after my colourful outburst. Tentatively, I mustered the strength to flex my wrists, testing for leather straps in case the drugs wore off too soon. There were none. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a hospital, just a research facility, even though I felt less like a scientist and more like patient zero with each passing hour

Visions of the seeping wound inside my thigh returned before I remembered that this had all been a lie and that, no, there weren't actually spiders under my skin even though that would have made things a bit more interesting, if not horrific. Begrudgingly, I pulled my eyes apart only to swiftly drown in blinding white light that made my right temple throb like it had been shot. I shut them again, and slowly felt the numbness of my limbs give way to needles and tubes running along the whole of me. My body had become a sponge, pumped full with liquids to keep me hydrated, fed, sedated and, probably, sane

'You're awake. Good.'

I recognized the voice, having spent a great deal of time with it, though my brief meeting with it's owner the night before had been muddled with terror and a lack of clarity. Somehow, I found the strength to look at him through half-lidded eyes. I hoped it looked like I gave a shit about anything he wanted to tell me.

'You're under heavy sedation so you can't move. I wish we didn't have to, but it's a safety precaution that has mutual benefit.'

I figured as much.

'There are sixteen tubes connected to various muscles and pressure points of your body, each with different functions. Some are rebuilding muscle mass, others are draining toxins. When you do regain your strength, I am asking you nicely not to pull them out. It will hurt.'

That got my attention. Perhaps what struck me more was that, the night before, he had been completely pleasant and gentle in the way he had handled me. But now, well, Howard was cold and bitter. The word 'nice' was stripped of its meaning, and I didn't want to know what the alternative was. He sounded entirely put out.

I opened my eyes a bit wider, hoping to find his black silhouette in the staggering glow. He saved me the trouble by approaching my bed and gazing down at me, gray eyes storming. Briefly, I noted that even with bags under his eyes, his jaw firm and his brow furrowed, he was a pretty fucker. I wanted to smile. He and I were one and the same, young hotshots who spent the best years of their lives in lab coats and rarely seeing natural light. But my skin felt tight, so instead I just stared at him and waited for him to continue speaking.

'My favourite of these tubes is the one connected deep into your trachea.'

My eyes bugged wide. That was fucking unexpected

'Since you've been given paracetachormal, we are going to continue the treatment by directly attaching it to your vocal chords. We would prefer to have you drink it, but this method cuts around 20 hours of the healing process. I know it's not ideal, but this also has mutual benefit. Know why?'

Bastard knew I wouldn't be able to respond, so I just scowled at him

'Because there are some interesting particles floating around your bloodstream, particles that shouldn't even have combined and could only get there unless they were injected. I'm very eager to hear you explain why there are traces of meth kicking around your system. Very. Eager.'

He knew. They all knew and I was completely fucked. The sedatives stopped me from feeling the anxiety I should have felt, but didn't stop me from noticing the way Howard smirked with pleasure. I was almost positive he was the one who shoved the tube into my throat just to prove who was in control. And the sick thing was that I couldn't even hate him for it, because I'd have done the same. In reality, that's all scientists were. Grown men with control issues, tinkering with the universe just to show we could harness cosmic power and prove we meant something.

Or maybe that was just me

'We are slowly draining the meth from your system, but it will take time to filter. Unfortunately, I can't give you a timeframe for when you will be better. Most of your symptoms appear to by psychosomatic and the best way for those to heal is through time. Sometimes the best medicine is rest.'

I wanted to call him on his bullshit. He knew I'd jeopardized the project, that the small bits of left over Necozine were dangerously close to making both of our life's work utterly useless. And just like he knew those things, I knew he wasn't saintly enough to take me out of the fire so quickly. He wanted me to suffer because I deserved it.

He pressed his lips into a thin line before he pushed away from my bed, and once again I was swamped in light that made my head throb. I shut my eyes, and was grateful that, in the absence of sight, my hearing overcompensated for the sensory loss.

To the right of me, I heard a woman stop Howard before he left the room. They were speaking quietly, but I recognized her voice as Ana's and I strained to listen to their conversation

'How is he doing?' She sounded concerned and I was grateful that I at least had one ally.

'He's going to be fine, just make sure you keep pumping 10 cc's of paracetachormal every hour. At this rate he should have full vocal function in about eighteen hours.' I heard something in his hands clicking, and I desperately wanted to know if it was a watch or another machine they wanted to use on me

'And the hallucinations?'

He hesitated. 'If he has another, give him 15 cc's of amisulpride and that should last him eight hours.'

So. He really wasn't going to let me suffer. Whether he left me in the fire or not didn't matter, I just wanted to know if he would be true to his word. I trusted him even less now that I knew he wasn't

'What about you?' Ana sounded more concerned for Howard than for me, and I was at once confused and pissed, considering I was the one trapped in an acupuncturist's nightmare

'What about me?'

'You know what I mean. I told you that you were walking a thin line. When we first started, I said you were getting too attached.'

'Oh come on, Ana. We grew up learning about him! Generations of people knew his name, his life, and what he's done for science, and we get to meet him. I mean, we start out as kids knowing there's someone who came before us, with a past as important as ours, that he gave up for the benefit of the future and this is it? A drug addict in need of an attitude adjustment?'

If I could have, I would have cringed at the accusation. I could hear his coat moving and knew he was gesticulating frantically in his frustration

He sighed. ' I don't care that our first conversation was dripping with sarcasm on his end, or that, during our second, he threw up on me and was convinced his leg was in a state of decay. I care that he somehow tricked all of us into thinking he was a hero.'

'Dom,' Ana said, gently. It was the first time I had heard him called by a nickname. No Doctor, no last name. It sounded nice, like sunshine. 'He didn't trick anyone. You have spent your entire career reading his notes, reading Dr. Ronson's preparations with him. You have this fantasy and I warned you that you might be disappointed.'

It sounded so familiar. I'd heard it before, but I couldn't remember where or when, or if the voices were the same. I wanted to shout at Ana to say it again so I could remember, but she carried on.

'Look, he's alive and we can fix him. This wasn't a failure, we just have some setbacks. We knew from the start we had the harder job, that pulling him out and making him better would be more difficult than putting him under. But you need to let go of whatever it is you're holding on to and realize that if he was reckless enough to freeze himself for 100 years, then he was certainly reckless enough to be a user.'

I wasn't entirely sure what a 'user' meant, but I assumed that it was a slang term for a drug addict like me. Ana had offered Howard a clear perspective that argued in favor of my humanity, but Howard himself had brought up some things I hadn't thought about since before I went under.

Being frozen for 100 years meant the scientific world had been talking about me even when I was no longer engaged with the conversation. Being the first person to do this meant that I had stopped being a person and had become an event. The traits of my personality had been erased in favor of my name (which was just words), my history (which were words and more words of people and places that might no longer exist), and the thing that I had done. Because I was a distant object of nothingness, I had become fiction, and, because I was fiction, the world I was waking up in had invented me a past life on my behalf.

From what Ana was saying, it sounded like Howard had invested a lot of time in creating a world for me. In fact, it sounded like she was hinting that he was definitely too invested. It seemed almost too easy, all the ways I could play this to my advantage, it was like I was lucky. The reality was that I would have to be careful with the words that I chose when I could speak again, and it was for this reason it was a good thing Howard didn't know me at all.

I fell asleep listening to them discuss the medicine I would need over the next few days and the therapy I would undergo when my muscles were strong enough to support my weight. In the physical chaos of my body's struggle to live, I had forgotten I would undergo months of therapy to ensure I suffered no memory loss, and preparations for assimilation. It was a long and boring haul that meant nothing but more distress on my part, so I let the drugs nurse me into relaxation. Before I drifted to sleep I made a mental note to find a way to convince Howard to give me my stash of Necozine underneath the floor

Yes, I was alive and I was going to live. But that didn't mean I needed to wipe the Earth of all its colours.

Twenty-four hours later I found myself being propped up in bed with Ana and Howard standing to the left of me. It was the first time I got a good look at my body and I felt like a squid with too many appendages

Ana stepped towards me and placed a warm cloth underneath the tube in my throat. She offered me a sympathetic smile before clutching the tube with steady hands.

'This cloth is soaked with an anesthetic. When I pull this out, the removal won't hurt, but until I seal off the entry point it will hurt to breathe. I need you to remain calm when this happens.'

I nodded meekly, though I knew that if a scientist was telling me I would feel pain then I needed to brace myself for what was to come

She tugged the tube back and I drew my eyes to the ceiling as I waited for it to be over. The tube seemed to continue on forever, as though it had been buried within the pit of my stomach, and felt like a ventricle was being removed from my numbed heart. As soon as it was out, air hit my windpipe and I naturally started to breathe. It was the worst mistake I ever made. Air and liquid became trapped in my lungs, and I coughed violently to clear it out. With each thrust of my chest, I felt liquid spill from the hole. Initially I thought this was blood, but when I looked down I found I was not dripping with red merely soaked in a clear wetness that burned to the touch.

'It's a chemical that cauterizes wounds,' Ana said as she tipped my head back. I peered over my nose at her as she loomed over me, pointing what looked to be a laser right at my neck. 'It sterilizes the cut and lets me seal this without using stitches.'

The beam of the laser felt like I was being lit on fire, but I could feel my skin sealing itself shut. Air that had been trapped in my windpipe began to circulate my body as normal and, when Ana pulled away, I ran my hands under my chin and along my neck. I felt whole again

The laser was drawn out of Ana's hand by an unseen mechanism and she reached behind her to grab a glass off a metal table.

'Drink this,' she said

The last time she told me to drink, I felt like I was drinking cat piss. I grimaced at her

'No,' she chuckled. 'This time, I promise it's just water.'

Wearily, I took the glass and brought it to my nose. I smelled nothing. Slowly, I took sips and felt a fire in my chest I hadn't known was burning get extinguished. I drank the rest of the glass in large gulps. When she took the glass from my hand, she nodded to Howard before leaving the room.

He approached the bed and looked down at the floor before pulling his hand into the air, palm down. He then sat next to the bed, and I leaned over to see that he had somehow created a chair out of an electric grid on the floor.

'Cool, isn't it? I designed this when I was seventeen.'

I brought my attention back to him and studied him. He looked to be about the same age as me, even though I was his senior by a mile. He looked tired but the lines on his face weren't drawn on by exhaustion or stress, they seemed too optimistic. It was his eyes, however, that were sharp, restless and hungry. For what, I wasn't sure but I imagined it was information about me.

'So,' he said cooly. 'Let's try this again. I'm Dom Howard. And you are?'

I remained silent. All the times I had spoken before had ended in vomit or a pain akin to swallowing knives.

'Go on,' he encouraged.

I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I remembered I needed to be careful with my words if I wanted this to go my way.

'Bellamy,' I said, slowly. 'Matt Bellamy.'

There's a relief that no one talks about when it comes to speaking. The first, is the sound of your own voice, unblemished and without screams of terror. The second, is the sound of your own name said in your own voice. When you haven't heard these things in days, or years, you lose a piece of your sanity that can only be returned once you do. To say I felt like I could have cried with glee was an understatement

'Excellent.' Howard smiled brightly, and for a moment I thought this conversation was going to focus on my readjustment to reality. But his eyes turned dark within an instant, and his right arm swished quickly through the air

A large, three dimensional image of a chemical compound formed in thin air, hovering gently next to him. I recognized it immediately as Necozine.

'What is this?' he asked, pointedly.

I smiled. That felt nice

'You know what it is.' It was a risk to play cheeky, one that felt good to play

'You're right, I do,' he said. I almost laughed at how well matched his attitude was with mine. 'I know that this,' he pointed to the left of the diagram, 'is diethylamide, and that this here is tryptamine bound with opioid diaceteate. And I know that this,' his hand sharply pointed to the last section, 'is methylphenpropane. I know what all this is, and I'd like to hear you say it.'

'It's a drug. Surely, a better question is what is it called?'

He barely even hesitated after I finished the sentence. 'Ok, what the fuck is it called?'

Oh. I liked him.

'It's called Necozine,' I said calmly. I saw pieces of myself in him and I could almost read the ways he rose to the top of this project at such a young age. I smiled despite myself, as it was my turn to change Howard into fiction

'Who invented it?'

'No one invented it, really.'

'Don't play smart with me,' he said, dryly.

'No one invented it,' I continued, 'because it was an accident.'

'Whose accident was it?'

'Technically, that doesn't really matter because they are dead. Formally, however….it's ours.' I smirked, watching the pieces fit together behind Howard's eyes.

'What do you mean by "ours?"'

'I mean the ISH,' I said plainly.

He narrowed his eyes at me, working out the kinks of what I was telling him

'Why don't I know about it?'

'Because, in my day,' I laughed as soon as the words came out of my mouth. I was 28 years old but 100 years older than one of my peers. It was a surreal experience. 'Back when the accident happened, the company didn't want anyone to know that we had invented a second drug based on our tampering with already illegal substances. So we locked it away and destroyed the formula.'

'Then how do you still have this lingering you?'

I smirked. 'I have friends in the right places.'

He crossed his arms and leaned back. 'Ok. So how long have you been using?'

'Since before you were born.' I liked being able to say shit like that, but he remained utterly unimpressed. 'Eight months.'

'And addicted?'

'Seven.'

'Fantastic.'

This is where the conversation was going to get tough. I needed to convince him it was worth while to bring my Necozine back, I needed to find a way to make him go looking for it. I decided doing this in the name of science would be enough for him

'I can help you find some if you're interested in studying it,' I tried, keeping my voice calm and even.

He cocked one eyebrow at me. 'Oh?'

'I'm assuming because you're the lead scientist that you are living in my house, are you not?'

'Yes. Am I to assume that you have the formula just lying around a place I've spent the last four years in? Trust me, I would have noticed.'

'No, don't be ridiculous, I told you it was destroyed. And the people who had it memorized are dead.'

'How tragic.'

He had a point. It really was tragic. The last bits of Necozine I had were the only samples in existence, and I here I was throwing them on the frontline and offering them to someone who might destroy them completely. How fucking heartbreaking.

'Well, don't get too broken up about it,' I said, for my own benefit. 'I can do you one better.'

He just stared at me.

'That house you've been living in? That room you wake up in every morning? Well, you've been living over a case of ready to use Necozine for the past four years of your life.'

His face went white, eyes morphing from casual disinterest to full attention.

Oh yes. I had him right where I wanted him.

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