Convincing Arguments

Summary: Side B. So he shouldn't have gone into that apartment complex without any backup. But hostages made such convincing negotiation arguments. OneShot- Ken, a child and a very bad situation.

Warning: It has been some time.

Set: Story-unrelated, post-Side B.

Disclaimer: Standards apply.

A/N: For the usual suspects. 210. Yay!

It was always easier to curse in Japanese.

Despite having lived in Great Britain for quite an amount of years, Ken still found it easier to return to his mother tongue whenever the situation called for a string of profanities. As it did now, definitely. Because nothing good could be said about a broken leg, a few shattered ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a massive head injury, especially not when one was stuck in the topmost floor of a collapsing building.

A whimper drifted through the red haze of pain that was forming in Ken's head. Right. He wasn't alone, there was…

"Kid?"

His voice was rough. He coughed and tasted the stale, coppery taste of blood in his mouth. That bad, huh. Dry sobs proved the kid was still alive. Just barely, just like Ken.

"Hey, Kid. Are you okay?"

Great, Ken. Of course the child wasn't okay. He'd been beaten before Ken had arrived, and he hadn't looked good then. Now, after Ken had fought (and lost, damnit), and after Ken's prey had made him the prey, he wasn't any better. Damnit, he couldn't even move.

"Stay with me, Kid. Don't close your eyes."

Which was what Ken wanted to do, right now and very badly. Close his eyes and sleep, just leave behind the pain that cursed through his body and his twisted bones. The red haze of pain was more than he wanted to bear. But he would, because it wasn't over yet. Perhaps… Perhaps some kind of wonder would happen. Aya had made it happen so many times before, proof of it being the simple fact that Ken had lived to see this day. But then, it always came to an end. Everything ended. Now that it seemed Ken had reached his limit he didn't think it too bad. He'd had good times, and bad times, yes, but overall he wouldn't change anything. He just hoped Aya would tell the parents of his childrens' soccer team that he wouldn't be able to train the kids any longer.

The kid whimpered, then a shuffling sound was heard and a cry of agony.

"Don't move," Ken told it. "Just talk to me. Can you talk?"

An image flashed by his eyes, a bloody face and bloody lips. The brutes had hit the child in the face. Anger cursed through Ken, quick and hot like a blazing fire but nothing he could tell himself could convince his legs and arms to move. The neuronal message was lost somewhere underneath the fury he felt when he thought of the kidnappers. Aya, now would be a very good time to magically appear from the shadows… The charges went off, almost simultaneously. Five dull thuds, and a sudden silence, as if the world was holding its breath. The groan that ran through the structure of the building mixed with screams and the rustle of falling dust and cement. The thing was, in the din of overall evacuation nobody would run up but rather down, not caring to check the roof.

"I tell you," Ken told the kid and tried to sound conversional. The occasional groan that escaped his lips he tried to swallow, not wanting to scare it further. "I always knew I would go down one day, but I rather expected it to be in a fight, not in a hostage scenario. Of course…" He broke off, realizing too late that it wasn't a good idea to talk about death when wanting to keep someone alive. "But then I always made it out alive. We work in a team, you know – I guess you could call us the Cavalry. Hey – do you hear that? The Police are arriving. We'll be out here pretty soon, just wait and see."

"Who… are you?"

The kid's voice was strained and its breath came wheezing. But it was talking. Ken took it as a good sign. He chuckled – and one last charge went off, right there on the roof. Apparently, the terrorists hadn't taken any chances. The blast hit him first, then followed a wall of heat as the explosives caught fire and blasted apart the tall steel structure that held up the decorative glass roof. Dust, rubble and glass was everywhere, raining down on Ken like a lethal hail storm. Shielding his head with his only free hand, the pain of movement momentarily forgotten as adrenaline cursed through his entire system, Ken threw himself onto the ground face-down. Steels and cement battered his back as he lay on the ground. Minutes seemed to pass as he counted his heart beats, waiting for the final showdown. But just a few minutes later, the deathly storm receded. Dust still saturated the air completely, though. Ken coughed and rolled over clumsily, just in time to see a still impressively large steel carrier lean towards him dangerously. His reflexes were still superb, but there was nothing he could do against the restrictions his body put on him. He tried to roll out of range and was stopped short by the plastic cuff that bound him to the railing. Swearing again he ripped and tore, the metal screeching but already weakened by the explosion. One last, inhuman act of strength and his arm was free, and Ken stumbled to move away from the falling pillar. He almost made it. An earth-shattering impact, a new cloud of dust and rubble and a hit like an anti-tank missile, and when his field of vision had cleared again he found he hadn't been fast enough. His lower body was still underneath the pillar. Adrenaline was still keeping the pain at bay, but it wouldn't be long until scorching pain would replace the last bits he could feel of body. He groaned, then clenched his teeth together so hard he heard them crunch.

"Kid? You still there?"

He held his breath until a shuffle and a moan told him the boy had miraculously survived, as well.

"I'm Ken," he grunted, trying to blend out the slowly building but already blinding pain. "You?" No need to scare the kid further: Don't tell him who you are. He couldn't exactly see the kid, just hoped it had been far away enough to only have suffered the edges of the explosion. It was too dark to see anything now, anyway. Of course the kidnappers (criminals terrorists night things whatever) had waited till nightfall to collapse an entire apartment complex. It lacked drama, the crumbling walls and shattering windows during broad daylight, especially since everyone had seen it before. And now the rap-rap-rap of helicopters joined the wailing sirens. Flashes of blue lights and spotlights were so much less intimidating by day, Ken thought sarcastically.

"Chris."

The kid's answer came after an eternity. Ken was so glad he took a deep breath and the answering pain almost had him black out again.

"Don't close your eyes, Chris. Do you know the people who took you hostage?"

"… bread rolls…" The boy whispered. Ken strained his ears, fought to make the connection. "You just went out to buy some bread?" "Hm-hm."

Just like any other innocent person in this building today. Living their lives, minding their own business, peaceful and perhaps a bit bored. And entirely oblivious to a war going on directly in front of their eyes. Ken knew these people – watched them, often, even envious sometimes. Just normal people. And then someone walked past – terrorists, in this case. Ken was pretty sure that this was what they were. Al Quaida, perhaps, or some other branch. And Ken happened to be there, on a random errand, and they had happened to take a kid hostage that had run in on them installing the detonation devices. Chris probably hadn't even known what he had witnessed. And Ken had called in on them when he could have run. Not his best idea.

But then, Aya was thought and Ken was reaction and…

He must have been missing for quite some time, now. Surely someone had noticed his absence. And the explosion had to be all over the news, they just had to make the connection… Or perhaps they wouldn't, or would too late, and how the hell were they supposed to find him here, of all places, anyway? Closing his eyes, Ken took a shallow breath and tried to concentrate, but it got harder with every passing second. Agony was replacing adrenaline, and pain was pushing aside rational thought. How long had they been up here? His inner clock, usually so accurate Chloe would tease him about his animal instincts, was completely off. A side-effect of his unconsciousness, probably. He had delivered the order to the customer at around three, had run down the staircase instead of waiting for the elevator and had accidentally taken the stairs down one level too low, ending up in the parking garage. In the dim corridor, rarely used because of the luxury that were elevators, he had encountered the terrorists and the kid. Ken's guess was that Chris had wanted to get his bike – a bright red helmet had been on the ground next to the terrorists when he found them – and had therefore gone down to the basement. The timing was well-planned: not noon anymore, not yet evening. Most people wouldn't be back until six, the parking garage was deserted. Bad luck, then. Ken had politely asked the people to let go of the kid, and then he had seen the installment at the junction box. And he wasn't stupid. So… He'd been unconscious for a time span he couldn't define, and then he'd found himself and the kid on the roof of the house. Ken was chained to the railing and no amount of force (not that he could muster much with a broken leg, dislocated shoulder, etcetera…) could free him. The boy was unconscious even longer. It might have been better had he missed the series of explosions, too. Those sons of a bitch must have deposited multiple charges on different floors – a masterfully planned chain reaction, really, Yuki would probably admire their handiwork. And because even the roof of the building had sported tall steel pillars, Ken was completely unable to move. He couldn't walk, could barely breathe. The weight of the steel was crushing, red agony. He breathed low and clenched his teeth. Not even five minutes since the charges had gone off. The whole building was groaning; occasional tremors still shook the walls. The screaming and shouting of terrified people oscillated in volume but the level of fear rose exponentially with each second. The structures were failing. Everyone who had seen the reports on 9/11 – or watched the movie or read the book – knew what would happen next.

"Chris?" Distracting the child was distraction in itself. A low whimper answered and he realized the kid was past talking. Ken pressed on. "Stay with me, okay? I didn't come to England to die here. I'm from Japan, you know, lived there for years. A friend moved to the UK and found me a job here, too. Or, rather, I found him a job. We always were a good team, even if he's far too stuck-up for his own good… Took him years to realize we were better as a team than on our own, you know. No idea how many times I actually saved his ass…"

An image of Aya, glaring at him darkly, popped up in front of Ken's eyes. He almost chuckled again, then remembered how much it would hurt and winced as the pain still hit home. For a few seconds he just breathed, trying to ignore the darkness that was building up in front of his eyes. No. Don't go there. Weird how his reason sounded like Aya in situations like these. So perhaps he shouldn't have gone after the apparent terrorists all by himself. But children made such convincing negotiation arguments, didn't they? Hey, we have this child and now leave us alone so we can blow up the building, God Save the Queen my butt. Oh, he'd better not let Michel hear this; despite – or perhaps exactly because – him being from Ireland he harbored a deep-seated loyalty towards Monarchy. Ken had the growing feeling he had been a tidbit too self-confident, thinking he could take on five terrorists all by himself. But, face it: it would have worked if he had had his Bugnuks, his partner, and his usual element of surprise. And he hadn't thought at all that second, had merely reacted. It would be nice if Aya came storming in right now, he thought and half expected the tall man to appear in the dust raised by suffering architecture. But while Aya was freakin' good, he was no mind-reader. How the hell should he know where Ken was? And, anyway, walking into a crumbling building was something Aya had the brain not to do, well, at least normally not, because he possessed enough common sense to see when a death trap was a death trap. And the worst was that despite the fact that the kid was there, Ken was slowly drifting off. There was a place where the pain was still there but didn't matter anymore, the red veil blanketing the world rather than causing him agony, and he found the feeling was much, much better than…

Don't you dare!

Aya's voice again, and Ken's eyes flew open. Of course his partner was nowhere to be seen. Ken sighed. He wouldn't give up – but he would die anyway. Especially if he didn't find a way to tell anyone… Sluggishly, he tried to think again. He had no gear – no wireless – and they had taken his mobile, of course, so there was no way he could get a message to Side B. He couldn't move. He… No options left besides hoping for a wonder, was there? Damn. Ken didn't like to be unable to do anything, he hated it. He started pushing at the steel pillar across his abdomen, just to do something…

The building shook again, then a good portion of the roof tilted and sunk. The kid was silent.

"Chris? Don't die on me, come on." Ken's voice was slurred. "There's still a lot you have to do. There's still a life you need to live…"

The rap-rap-rap of a helicopter was coming closer. Shielding his eyes with his free hand, he blinked into the lit sky but saw nothing.

"HEY!" He screamed. His lungs protested violently against the abuse. "HELP!"

The sound became fainter again as the helicopter turned and buzzed off, lighting the side of the house. Ken could imagine the people at the windows – screaming, crying, terrified. Another cloud of dust, an ear-shattering crack. The building wouldn't make it long… How decidedly un-heroic, to die like that. A fight would have been his preferred way to go down. A lethal wound, a quick end. So now he would die on top of a normal apartment building, a death that was far from normal but far from everything he had imagined, too.

Oh, well.

Resigned, Ken dropped his head on his chest. Then the building dropped sideways and the steel beam crushed his ribs, and Ken screamed in agony.

The world turned red, and then black.

…

"He's coming around."

"How do you know?"

"Aya always does, don't ask him why."

"But the paramedics said…"

"Don't listen to them. This is Ken."

Someone read off a list.

"Broken bones, punctured kidney, dislocated shoulder, major concussion… Not to mention his crushed ribs. It's a miracle he's alive."

"How did you find him, Aya?"

"Aya has a sixth sense."

"Bullshit. Yuki hacked into the security system."

"But the Police said the cameras were down…"

"Not the Police cameras. Helicopter."

"What if he hadn't been on the roof but in the building?"

Silence.

"Well, that's something none of us wants to think of, I wager."

Ken groaned. "Keep it down, will you?"

Only it sounded more like Keepidoawilya. Opening his eyes hurt – moving his hand hurt – even thinking hurt. Shuffling noises around the room told him the entire team must be present.

"Better don't move, Ken," Michel advised him wisely and patted his hand. "You're in a pretty bad shape."

He intended to do just that: not move.

"But you're alive," Chloe added helpfully and accidentally bumped against the bed lightly. Ken sucked in his breath sharply.

"Chris?"

"The boy that was with you? We found him. He's still in surgery, but they say he'll make it."

"Did they give you enough pain killers?" Kurumi asked, concern and tears lacing her voice. "Do you…"

"Nah," Ken grunted. He liked his head clear better than drugged up and foggy. He had survived, so he'd manage the pain. Although it was excruciating.

Feet steps told him someone else was approaching. A female voice asked "What…" and then came into view, and frowned when she saw he was awake.

"Gentlemen," she told the team. "You'd better leave now. The Doctor will have a look at the patient in a minute, and you shouldn't over-exert him."

One by one, they took their leave, with Kurumi, Michel and Yuki wishing him a good recovery and promising to return tomorrow, Chloe mumbling Ken would rather over-exert him than himself, and Free nodding curtly. When everyone was gone Aya was still there, his arms crossed and with a face that told the nurse he didn't intend to leave soon. The nurse sniffed.

"Mr. Fujimiya, I assume? You're listed as Mr. Hidaka's next of kin. You may stay."

Aya lifted one brow and Ken grinned at him – as much as he was able to. Half of his face seemed to be covered in bandages – not that he could lift his hand to check.

"Please be patient," the nurse told him. "Doctor Hunter will be here soon. With the many victims and injured of the attack, we're running low on people."

And she was gone again. Silence descended onto the room. Ken closed his eyes. Knowing Aya was there was strangely comforting.

"You're an idiot," Aya said. Ken chuckled. "I know."

"I mean it." Now, Ken looked at his partner, and Aya's brows were creased in a dark frown of worry. And anger. "You're a person of interest to MI6, now. You've seen the terrorists, right? They'll want to know everything. How the hell do you intend to keep a low profile with Secret Service all over your CV?"

"I'll work something out." Right now, Ken had no intention of discussing such matters. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep promised - albeit only temporal - relief of the pain.

"Tell you what," Aya said and stepped closer, bent down so nobody else could overhear their conversation. "And I mean it, Ken. If you ever, ever, try to do something like that again-" his eyes shrank to slits – "I'll haul your sorry ass back to Japan, have Omi put a leash around your neck and make damn sure that you never get close to a flower-shop ever again. I swear."

Grinning so widely it hurt, Ken closed his eyes.

"That's what I call a convincing argument."