Hostage.pdf

Hostage!

Title: Hostage!

Rating:

Rating: NC-17

Pairings:

Pairings: Merlin/Arthur

Warnings:

Warnings: Violence

Disclaimer:

Disclaimer: The characters donÔt belong to me; they are the property of the BBC and

Shine. No profit made.

Word count:

Word count: 13,421

Spoilers:

Spoilers: Series 1 & 2.

Summary:

Summary: Modern AU. A plane is hijacked. Merlin and Arthur meet under the

circumstances.

Notes:

kinkme_merlin prompt: Arthur and Merlin

meet under a hostage situation and keep each other from losing it as the police try to get everyone

out safely. ThereÔs been a little been of editing to correct the mistakes I found.

kinkme_merlin

Part 1

t 1

As he looks for seat 23 A, to which a tired, Swedish-blond flight attendant has vaguely

pointed him, Arthur starts cursing New Year's Eve with all his heart. That would not be a

general holiday hatred, and not even a specific holiday dislike, but a feeling engendered in

him by father, who wants him to attend the New Year's company party and has requested

Arthur board the first available flight to get to Camelot's main office building with no

prior warning. The imperative will mean in due course an economy seat, no leg space, no

menu choice, and has already meant an elbow in the ribs from the obese man queuing in

front of him, and an unexplainable stopover in the most silent airport in the whole of

Europe: Munich's. To add insult to injury, he obviously got the window seat, since he

made the check-in queue only three minutes before it closed, which in turn means that the

lavatory will be mostly off-limits unless he climbs over the people seated next to him.

He peeks at his boarding pass to mentally confirm that he got it right, that it's 23 A he

needs, and has to stop slowly advancing as a kid shoots from his assigned place to go and

chat with another scrawny, be-Niked mate of his two rows down. Arthur shakes his head.

Economy clearly equals hell, but beggars can't be choosers and he bought the ticket on-line

only an hour and twenty three minutes before take-off. (Mobile internet access might be a

God-send when one is Uther Pendragon's dutiful son.) But he still rates as a beggar.

At least in two hours he'll be in London, waiting to be picked up by the Company's car at

Heathrow.

Patience, he commands himself, as he stumbles to a halt before seat 23 C. A lanky, jeans-

clad young man is trying to hoist and fit a humongous hold-all into the overhead

compartment and failing miserably. He's also, to all intents and purposes, blocking the

whole aisle.

Title:

Rating:

Pairings:

Warnings:

Disclaimer:

Word count:

Spoilers:

Summary:

Notes:

Notes: Written in response to the following kinkme_merlin

Par

Arthur, who's fed up, coughs not so politely.

The young man pushes, trying to stow his bulging and bursting at the seams baggage item

inside, and then turns around to smile at Arthur and say, ÑSorry, It's just... souvenirs.Ò

Arthur today is feeling sour and tired and not in the mood for pleasantries. ÑI don't even

know how they waved that through as hand baggage, but more to the point, you're

obstructing.Ò

ÑOh,Ò the young man answers, toothy smile fading. ÑI know... justÐÒ

ÑI don't have till tomorrow,Ò Arthur insists. He has to cram his own briefcase inside that

compartment and behind him people are starting to murmur in an annoyed fashion.

The guilty man looks sheepish for a second, annoyed the next and, as a result, he turns

more fully towards Arthur. In doing so, he forgets to prop up his blasted cheap hold-all

and it crashes half on the idiot's head and half over 23 B and C. Thankfully there are no

casualties. At that, though, the individual's blue eyes sparkle with fury and he spits,

ÑYou're one enormous...Ò He must be at a loss for words since he pauses before exploding

with, ÑPrat.Ò

ÑOh, hell,Ò Arthur says, lifting the luggage item up and storing it safely in the overhead

for the incapacitated pillock. ÑSee,Ò he points out. ÑIt wasn't difficult.Ò

ÑAnd you're so kind...Ò the young man says mockingly.

Arthur manages to jam his flashy silver briefcase in the small space left, exhaling and

cursing against his father and the idiot in front of him Ð the whole under his breath. He

slams the locker shut and curses a little more loudly because it's freeing and he's entitled

to some retaliation.

That done, Arthur glares, shoos the young man away, flashing his boarding pass to show

that he needs Seat A, and wrestles his way into the tiny space, only to find out that the

other man, the uncoordinated scourge from God who is a curse sent to him by the airline

powers that be, has been assigned to 23 B. Damned computerised systems. Arthur raises an

eyebrow and his neighbour shows him his own boarding pass. Merlin Emrys, it declares,

23 B.

Arthur scowls, while the Emrys person looks riled and irritated but they do manage to

settle down more quietly once they stop glaring at each other and pin themselves down

with their seatbelts. Both do so before either the warning light goes on to signal that they

should, and before another flight attendant starts marching determinedly down the aisle

to check that everybody has followed the rules. Arthur scans the seat-pouch in front of

him, looking for the in-flight magazine because he's bored, while the Emrys guy fidgets,

unfastens the seatbelt not even a minute after buckling it on, and rummages inside the

overhead locker once again Ð Arthur swearing to himself he won't help him anymore.

The Merlin boy retrieves a battered, spine cracked paperback copy of some thriller or

other that is thankfully not by Dan Brown and sinks back onto 23 B.

People around Arthur, meanwhile, take their places and quiet down too: some start

reading books, a few check their cameras for what must be their holiday shots, one or two

immediately try to doze off as if unaware of the lights and bustle, and the flight

attendants walk up and down the narrow carpeted aisle, helping people store their bags,

trolleys, and various odds and ends collected during their holidays. Everything is pretty

ordinary as far as Arthur can tell; there's the routine buzz of people chatting, the wail of a

toddler dissatisfied with the plane concept, the drone of the air conditioning system, and

the high 'ping' sounds that are emitted each time someone presses the button used to

summon the cabin crew with.

Emrys is already deep into his novel, brow creased and head bent as he pores over it, and

Arthur wishes he had brought one along too or that he had had the time to buy a magazine

Ð or that he could have been able to read the German ones he'd located at the airport's

newsagent's before boarding.

As things stand, Emrys appears immersed in his reading, as do a few people in the seats

around. There's no one immediately next to the Merlin guy, but the girl in the row

opposite is perusing The Devil Wears Prada as if it were the next Bible.

Just a few minutes before all the pre-flight formalities are executed, there is a last minute

arrival, well past boarding time. Arthur takes the time to pride himself on the fact that he

himself made the plane a quarter of an hour before the official take-off time. The late

arrival, whom Arthur absently notices, is a man: tall, bearded, with light brown hair and a

no nonsense air. He practically bounds inside without even saying sorry to the hostess

he's just run into. The young woman in question raises an eyebrow and politely though

coldly shows the man to his seat.

A few more minutes pass uneventfully as Arthur hums to himself and runs a mental list

of the things he should do once in London: contact Morgana, change, send three faxes and

a dozen mails, and avoid confrontation with father at all costs.

Since Arthur is now minding his own business, he stops spying on his neighbours, and

specifically his obnoxious one, and decides to concentrate on something else, when he

notices things going on that seem a little off. Just as the head flight attendant secures the

emergency exit door further up the aisle, four people rise from their seats in unison, a

clearly co-ordinated move. The late arrival emerges from the toilet, where he apparently

repaired when Arthur was intent on studying Merlin Emrys, accosts the blond flight

attendant who had ignored Arthur earlier and tackles her. He backs her up against the

door handle before Arthur can even blink and he has something that vaguely resembles a

toy gun in his hand, which he immediately aims at the now terrified woman. The weapon

looks like something quickly constructed and shaped to look like a revolver, and Arthur

suspects the thing was put together in the blasted loo from bits and pieces that evaded the

airport X-ray machine scan. Arthur has no doubt that the weapon is both real and

functioning; he's also sure that the other men who have risen from their seats are the

accomplices of the bearded man.

The flight attendant's eyes widen in panic just as one of the bearded man's companions

wrests a middle-aged lady from her seat and, placing his arm around her neck, keeps a

hold of her, pointing another makeshift gun to her temple.

The bearded man waits a few seconds, looks down the aisle, where his accomplices secure

one hostage each, and then declares, ÑStay calm. We want you to open the cockpit or the

hostages will die. We are not terrorists; we are fighters for freedom. If our requests are

granted, everybody will walk out of this just as unscathed as when they came in. If you

don't, we'll start with these ones,Ò he says, almost chocking the flight attendant he has

manhandled against the door, Ñand proceed to kill off the hostages one by one. If you

think you can overpower us and take back control, then think again because there are

explosives on this plane, safely hidden. One wrong move and we all go boom.Ò The man,

Arthur decides, sounds way too serious.

A roaring, deafening murmur rises from the crowd of passengers. Arthur has no idea if he

should read that as a form of collective indignation, alarm or panic, and he doesn't care

much to pin down what it is. He himself stays silent. Before the collective panic has had

time to subside a little however, one idiot springs from his seat and darts towards the rear

emergency door, which was the first to be sealed shut, probably hoping to make it to

freedom. He's summarily shot in the back, and lands with a thud to sprawl in the aisle. In

response to the unexpected and sudden horror, one child cries out, a woman faints, and the

Nike loving kid takes to shaking. Most passengers understand that it would be best if they

chose to keep silent.

Arthur weighs the situation and decides the best tactic for now is to stay put, or he'd end

up like dead hostage number 1 without having gained anything. Situations like this one, he

thinks, need to be assessed just as marketing strategies do. Perhaps more so as bankruptcy

is preferable to a shot to the head. Even father would agree.

The hijacker is almost choking the flight attendant and will surely finish the job if she

refuses to use the plane intercom to contact the captain and persuade him and his co-pilot

out of the cockpit. When she nods, Arthur realises these men know what to do. The

captive hostess swallows visibly and relays the hijackers' message to the captain.

Moments of the most profound silence follow, everybody dreading the outcome of the

flight attendant's action. If the pilot stays safe inside, he might be able to contact the

Control Tower; the staff there would know to call the police and the German anti-

terrorist unit. If they come out, they wouldn't be able to alert anyone, but passengers

would surely die as per the threatening.

Arthur, who is shocked and reasonably afraid of the outcome himself, is shaken out of his

tense reverie, when he realises Emrys is about to spring from his seat; the dim-witted

creature has just placed his hands on his armrest in order to lever himself out of it. Arthur

places his own right hand on top of his and, dipping his head, murmurs, ÑYou idiot, what

are you trying to do?Ò

Merlin hisses a little, and says, ÑI could do something,Ò but in the end he sinks back down

without anyone being any the wiser. Thank God for small mercies. As if one lanky, barely

of age young man could do something in a hostage situation like this. TV is definitely a

bad influence, Arthur reckons.

ÑThose guys,Ò Arthur snaps, suddenly unreasonably furious, Ñknow what they're doing. I

think you would share the fate of that very dead man over there if you so much as moved

or batted an eyelash.Ò And Arthur shouldn't really care if Emrys kicks the so called bucket,

but he doesn't want to see someone he has actually exchanged words with die violently.

He doesn't want to see those annoyingly innocent blue eyes dim and lose focus.

Before Merlin can reply, however, the cockpit door opens and out of it file the uniformed

captain and his co-pilot. They both look strained and pale and are holding their hands up

as if they're expecting to be gunned down the next moment, but they appear coherent

enough to deal with the situation that has presented itself. Maybe they were even trained

to face such occurrences.

Emrys grabs his armrest tightly once more and shuts his eyes, probably suspecting the

pilots would be the next ones to bite the dust. Maybe the boy is impressionable or

something.

At the same time, the flight attendant is released, just as the leader hijacker turns around

to declare to the captain and everybody who might be interested to hear that he is, ÑAlvarr

and I want you,Ò he says, training his gun on the young co-pilot, Ñto contact air traffic

control and repeat the conditions I dictate. Once we have what we want, you'll all be

released,Ò he promises.

Arthur doesn't believe one word the man is saying and realises he might have to concoct

some kind of decent plan if he doesn't want to die before 2009 is out.

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: