Missing Movie Scene:
Flight Out of Bagghar
By Jelsemium
A/N: There is a LiveJournal community called Small Fandoms Fest (www dot smallfandomfest dot livejournal dot com) that is taking story prompts until May 21st. They'll permit stories to be posted starting on the 23rd. I thought you Tintin fans might be interested as there are many Tintin prompts there and you can add your own if you have a LiveJournal account.
Capt. Archibald Haddock was furious. If Sakharine thought that he was going to get his hands on the treasure of the Unicorn without a fight, he had another think coming! Nobody stole Haddock's ship! Not while he was breathing (and listening to Tintin's excellent, if sometimes insane, plans).
Thanks to one of Tintin's saner brainstorms, they actually knew where the Karaboudjan was heading. They had plenty of time to get there first because Interpol Detectives, Thomson and Thompson, had arranged for a special flight that should beat the Karaboudjan to port by more than two days.
As the chartered plane droned through the (thankfully) clear skies, Haddock began to get restless. The reason he had taken the aisle seat was so he could get up and pace if he wanted. Tintin seemed happy with the window seat. Haddock suspected that Tintin would have been happy anyplace in the airplane as long as it gave him a chance to sit down.
Not that he could blame the boy. It seemed that they had spent the entire week walking, except when they had been running, or rowing, or swimming, or ducking bullets.
The plane was beginning to give him a headache, reminding him of why he hated flying. It wasn't the noise that was getting to him as much as being cooped up, purposeless, helpless and bored on top of everything else. Normally, this is where he'd pull out a flask and… but no, he promised the lad that he wouldn't get drunk until they laid hands on those scrolls.
The detectives had brought a stack of magazines, but Haddock couldn't focus on them. The detectives had also produced a deck of cards and even some graph paper for playing "Battleships." Clearly, the two were familiar with the tedium of travel!
Haddock turned to ask Tintin if he was interested in a game, only to find him asleep. Snowy looked up from his place on Tintin's lap and Haddock patted him on the head. The terrier sighed deeply when it became apparent that Haddock had no food or whiskey. Snowy rested his chin on the armrest and stared wistfully towards the galley before drifting off to sleep.
Well, that was a good way of passing the time. Unfortunately, Haddock was too wound up to take a nap. He looked over Tintin's relaxed form to study the skies.
After a few minutes, he noticed that the side of the boy's face was looking rather bluish. At first he thought that the color was coming from the window. However, nothing else seemed to be colored blue. The poor tyke must be cold... maybe he should so something about that? "There's an idea, Haddock," he muttered sarcastically. "Why don't you set the airplane on fire?"
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" asked Thompson, or was that Thomson? Which one had the straight moustache?
"No," Haddock said. He turned to the speaker and saw the detective whose moustache curled out, Thomson, or maybe it was Thompson, carrying an armload of pillows and blankets.
"I was, however, thinking that Tintin looked cold." Haddock said as he took a blanket and tossed in over Tintin. As he was adjusting a pillow under the boy's cheek, he noticed that the blueness on Tintin's face wasn't from cold… It was from a large bruise on the side of his face!
"Columbus!" gasped Haddock. Had he done that? He had a vague memory of the oar striking something…
"That does look nasty," said the detective with the curled moustache. (Thompson? No, it was Thomson.)
"To be precise, it's a nasty look," said the other. (Who had to be Thompson... unless he was Thomson.).
The detectives nodded once, in perfect unison.
"How...?" Haddock stopped. Maybe the detectives didn't know. Maybe he didn't want to know.
"I believe Tintin has our friend Sakharine to thank for that bruise," said that one that Haddock was almost certain didn't have a P in his name.
"To be precise, thanks to that bruiser Sakharine's friends," the other added. (Wait, this was the one without a 'P', to be precise.)
"Sakharine? You mean, one of my former crew members...?" Haddock cracked his knuckles and growled. When he got his hands on those bilge rats, they'd be the ones wearing the bruises!
The detectives shook their heads, again in unison.
"No, I believe he got this while poking around Sakharine's estate..." Thompson said. (Haddock was sure he had them straight now.)
"To be precise," Thompson amended. "He got in this state when he was hit with a poker."
"Who hit him?" demanded Haddock.
"I believe he was struck by Sakharine's domestic help," Thompson said with a slight smile.
Haddock was surprised, why did the detectives find this amusing?
"To be precise," Thomson started.
The two detectives exchanged sideway glances and finished in unison. "The butler did it!"