Title: The Hostage Situation

Author: Million Moments

Rating: PG-13

Category: AU, Drama

Summary: Not many people think they'll ever be held hostage in a library

A/N: This fic is part of The Library AU. It's not a series, just another universe. The information you need to know is that Elizabeth Weir is a head librarian. Rodney McKay is a high school physics teacher. They date, but there is no heavy Rodney/Elizabeth Romance in this fic. Other Atlantis characters are introduced in this fic.

When he was nine years old, the knife wheedling, drugged out thug who stood before her had won the annual Book Mastermind competition. She had often heard on the news and macabre documentaries people profess about how so and so had been such a good boy, so sweet tempered. The psychology magazines that she had read in her youth before she had decided on a career, told her that personality was set by the age of two. As a consequence, she never quiet believed these, normally, women who claimed gang-land leaders and serial killers had been sweet little boys. Yet 5 metres from her stood her very own example.

The year he won the competition was also her first year working in the library, thus her first Book Mastermind competition. The concept was simple: kids read a book (at least 200 pages in length) and then answered questions on it as well as a general knowledge round. He had read Swallows and Amazons, and answered the questions so accurately she had teasingly asked him if he was related to Arthur Ransome. His general knowledge round was also impressive; the names of state capitals, former presidents and famous authors fell from his lips without hesitation. With a total of 27/30, he was the outright winner.

He was not boastful in his victory. He hugged his mum, accepted the $10 book token from Mr. Hammond the then head librarian with a smile and a shy thank you, and then abruptly to run off to play baseball with his friends.

Yes, thought Elizabeth Weir as Rodney's blood dripped off the blade of the knife, Aiden Ford had been a sweet boy.

The man whom that little boy had become did not have much of an excuse for his current disreputable state. He couldn't blame the death of his parents in a car accident, for his maternal grandparents did a fine job raising him. He couldn't even really blame growing up in a slightly rough neighbourhood, because he knew who it was safe to associate with. It was true the first time he had taken coke, he wasn't really aware of what it was. You couldn't say it was an accident, but you could claim diminished responsibility. But he was given plenty of chances, plenty of opportunities to turn from his ways, and he did not take them. He thought he could handle it. He thought the drugs we're only affecting him in a good way. When he took them, he felt stronger, better. Why would he want to give that up? Coke was just the beginning. His life got harder and so did the drugs.

The life of a drug addict was not a cheap one. He hadn't scored for two days, and it was agony. He had no money, no plan, he just walked the street trying to think of something, anything, he could use to get what he needed. In his pocket was a flick knife. He also had a gun, but no bullets.

His restless movement brought him past the public library. Aiden, who had been on the streets for awhile now, sometimes came in her just to stay warm. The librarians always seemed torn about it, John remembered him from their brief time together in the Army reserves, the librarian from his childhood. When in there, he did his best to skulk out of the way in some barely used section, and thus they put up with it.

It was nearly lunchtime. From observation he knew that Ronan would soon appear and drag John off for an hour or so. That'd leave the woman with that young guy, alone. The library would be pretty empty. If it was the kind of place to rob, that's when Aiden would do it. But it wasn't the kind of place you rob, fines on books hardly kept much cash on premises. But then again, he was desperate, and maybe there'd be enough just to buy an ounce…

It was 15 minutes latter that Aiden observed from across the street John and Ronan leaving. In that time his desperate plan had become even more extravagant, as withdrawal caused him to come up with ridiculous ideas to conjure more money.

Word on the street was last night the police had bust a major dealer. They'd gotten 10 kilos of top grade stuff off him. Aiden planned to take over the library, hold everyone in it hostage, and demand the police give him the crack or he'd start killing people. Sure, the gun was unloaded, but they didn't need to know that. And he knew how to use the knife.

A man who he recognised as an ex-teacher of his - though he couldn't recall his name or even the subject he taught - wondered into the library. Aiden was pretty sure it was mostly empty except for him, a girl who'd gone in about half an hour ago, the woman librarian and young assistant. It would be best to act now.

Rodney had broken up the odd school yard fight. He'd even once disarmed a student carrying a knife using skills John had taught him, claiming he might need them in the dangerous environment of a high school. He thought John had been joking – just showing off in front of Elizabeth - but then they'd actually come in useful.

However he had to say he hadn't received any real training on how to deal with gun wheedling homeless men desperate to score some crack cocaine. He really would have to ask John next time he saw him. Typical this had to happen when he'd run off somewhere with Ronan.

The depths of his memory provided him with a name for his current nemesis, Ford. He remembered him from school. Always smoking in the toilets or sneaking out of school. Apparently he'd moved on from his days as just a plain old pain in the ass, and worked his way up to taking hostages.

He'd barged in, locked the doors and started threatening them all with a gun. The four unlucky occupants of the library were then lined up in front of the library desk, on their knees no less!

Elizabeth knelt next to him, surprisingly calm. It was probably just a façade; she was the kind of woman who didn't like to show fear. As the only adult male here (well Carson was 21 but that didn't really count, the kid was practically cowering with an abandoned medical journal hastily dropped in front of him) Rodney felt a responsibility to, well, save the day. Ford had closed the shutters; there was no way the police would be able to get a clear shot at him.

Rodney glanced back at Carson, and some part of his brain registered what the article on the floor said. Reading it at a speed that had always meant he'd been able to grade papers in record time, Rodney began to form a plan.

Ford was on the phone ranting to a police officer, who Elizabeth felt increasingly sorry for as time continued, when Rodney nudged her.

"I can take him," he mumbled, clearly trying not be heard by Ford. However, a young woman who Elizabeth seemed to remember was called Teyla had been speaking to Carson, soothing him for at least ten minutes without gaining any of Ford's interest, so she thought it was okay to at least whisper clearly.

"You what??"

"I said I can take him, disarm him before he gets a shot off," the look of complete disbelief on Elizabeth's face said it all really, and Rodney was prompted to continue. "He's in withdrawal; it's affecting his reaction times. Knowing my weight and estimating his, as well as my speed and factoring in his reduced reaction time and I have preformed the necessary calculations that let me know that as long as I go to attack him whilst his back is turned, I should easily be able to disarm him."

Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes, because she didn't really feel it appropriate to the situation, "Rodney, don't be a hero, you're a physics teacher!"

"Exactly," he said with enthusiasm. "So I know I've got all my force and S.U.V.A.T equations right!"

It looked like she was going to have to use physics (or was it maths?) to reason with him, "Rodney how can you possibly know the necessary…constants? How do you know what his reaction time now is?"

Rodney's eyes directed her to look at the copy of Neurology that Carson had been reading (this week he wanted to be a neurosurgeon), and read the title of the article it had dropped open at:

"Differential effects of cocaine and cocaine alcohol on neurocognitive performance"

Elizabeth has really thought that that kind of coincidence only happened in the movies or on TV. Yet right there in front of them was all the information Rodney needed to make his calculations. Still didn't make it a good idea though. Perhaps she'd have to be the concerned girlfriend.

"Rodney I think we should just leave this to the professionals. I don't want you getting hurt."

Unfortunately, Rodney took on an even more resolved look, "It'll be okay Elizabeth, I can do this."

Apparently he could. Before Elizabeth could finish forming an appropriate reply he was up and away. Ford had his back turned, his right hand holding the gun extended. In a move Elizabeth thought she had seen John and Ronan use in one of their play fights, Rodney grabbed the extended limb, twisted it round and Ford dropped the gun in surprise. However, he also dropped the phone. And reached into his jacket pocket.

She must have closed her eyes, knowing what was going to happen. When she opened them Rodney was on the floor, grabbing is abdomen and in obvious pain. Ford held a bloody knife. In that moment, all she could think about was how he had won the book mastermind competition when he was nine…

Carson had no plans to be a doctor in the military. He didn't want to perform medicine under fire. He didn't want to sneak around at night in war torn countries providing aid. He didn't want to do these things because he knew; quiet frankly, he was not cut out for that kind of life. He liked things simple and orderly. He dreamed of being a surgeon, for though people's lives would literally be in his hands, it would be on his own terms. Within the safety of a clean and sterile operation room.

He didn't think working in a library part time whilst he studied would present any real danger anyway. Maybe in a bank, he'd expect to be taken hostage. But a library? There wasn't even much money on the premises! To be frank, he was bloody scared. The nice lady had tried to keep him calm, and he did appreciate it, but it didn't seem to work.

It was an odd thing that eventually brought a calmness to mind was the site of Rodney collapsing to the floor, from a stab wound to the abdomen. Carson estimated the blade to be four and a half inches and he was mildly hopeful that it hadn't reached his intestines.

Without thinking twice about it, Carson jumped up and ran behind the library desk, grabbing the first aid kit kept there. He registered the fact that Elizabeth was on her feet, placating their captor, letting him know Carson only intended to treat Rodney for his injuries.

"Teyla, I'll need your help," Carson stated as he knelt next to Rodney. "Rodney can you hear me?"

"I've been stabbed in the stomach not in my ear, of course I can hear you!"

Carson considered threatening not to treat him if he didn't behave, but decided he might as well practice his bedside manner.

"Teyla, help me sit him up. We need to lean him in the direction of his uninjured side and apply pressure to the wound," this was said as Carson removed everything from the kit he'd need to do this.

Rodney was soon safely secured against Carson, and an inspection of the wound had revealed that, though bleeding profusely, it was not to serious. As long as they got him to hospital within an hour that is…

Carson informed Elizabeth of their "time limit". Elizabeth decided the best thing to do then would be to refuse to allow herself to worry about Rodney until they were much closer to the end of that hour. Because, with Carson and Teyla busy playing Doctors and Nurses, and absolutely no clue about when the police would act, she really did feel that it was now up to her to get them out of this situation.

"Aiden," She began. "Please will you pick up the phone and ask the police to have an Ambulance standing by."

He stared at her a long time, knife still extended in her direction, before he lent over and picked up the phone. Elizabeth could hear the operator on the other end asking what was going on.

"Quiet," Aiden said. "One of the people decided to play hero, and now they've been hurt. There's some kind of medical person here who says he's gotta get to a hospital in an hour or he's not going to make it. So I guess you should send an ambulance along with that crack, and you've got your time limit."

Despite the obvious protests of the operator that reached even Elizabeth's ears, Aiden hung up. She supposed she could just stand here and wait. Take her own advice and let the professionals do there job. But something in Elizabeth still saw that nine year old kid grinning at her, and felt she could reach him.

Might as well start with what she knew, "Do you still remember the year Swallows and Amazons was first published?"

He turned, and stared at her hard. Somewhere, under the drug induced glaze, a light seemed to flicker in his eyes. Elizabeth didn't think he was going to answer, but eventually the eyes rolled and he responded, "1930."

"I have no idea if that's correct; guess I'll take your word for it." He might have smiled at that. Or it might just have been a grimace. She was so making this up as she went along.

"Do you ever wish you could go back to being that boy who knew a little too much about Arthur Ransome books?" Elizabeth noticed he hadn't bothered to pick his gun back up. She had a feeling that was because it was empty.

"What good would that do exactly? Wouldn't exactly get me what I want any faster now would it?"

"Lots of people have things they wish they could go back and tell their younger selves. Chances they should have taken, choices they never should have made. I wish I hadn't listened to my career advisor when she said a woman can't make it in politics…"

From somewhere on the floor, Elizabeth thought she heard Rodney mumble, "I wish I hadn't tried to disarm the gun toting manic." She chose to ignore it.

"Isn't there something you'd want to tell yourself at that age, if you could?"

He was looking at her suspiciously. Perhaps her hostage negotiation skills weren't up to scratch, she needed to watch more bad crime TV shows.

"What are you trying to achieve with this? Think you can reason with me to put down my knife and give myself up? Take a second chance at life?"

"That pretty much summarises it, yes." There was no point in her denying it. A five year old could probably see through her plan. He did however seem to be surprised she'd been so frank her response.

"When you're in as deep as I am, there are no second chances. There are only chances for your next score. Nobody wants to help people like me. Nobody thinks I'm capable of going clean and becoming a respectable citizen. Even if I did all that, we live in this crazy city where despite its size everybody stills seems to know each other. All they'd ever see of me was who I was," his words held real emotion; this was clearly something he had thought about before.

"Aiden I'll, who you were was a smart kid, with an amazing memory, who made same bad choices. You might not have much of an excuse for what you've become, I don't know, I don't think you do, but you also don't have much of an excuse for right now trying to be something else Aiden. If you change, people will still remember who you were. But they'll also remember who you were before that, and they'll know who you are now is much closer to that."

He stared at her. And she stared right back.

There were not many people left in the world who would dare to talk to Aiden like that. Most of those who did had some kind of power over him, usually the drugs he was after. He knew this woman had no power over him, but maybe his drugged starved brain was playing tricks on him, because he sort of believed her. Maybe he just wanted to believe her.

"Look lady if it makes you feel better, if I thought that was an actual option, I would take it," he really just wanted her to be quiet. She was making him think, distracting him from the task at hand that really needed all his concentration. However apparently she didn't give up easily. Sheppard would probably have been less hassle to deal with.

"Well then, if that's how you feel Aiden you better listen to me, because it is an actual choice. You've crossed a line here Aiden. The police are probably outside now, planning how best to storm this place and minimize casualties. They'll probably shoot you dead on site, because you've demonstrated you're a danger to them. But you still have some power here Aiden. 'Because I know there is some of that little boy left in you, and I know he doesn't want to die."

The revelation was not at all sudden. He didn't hear her words and realized she was right, that unless he acted quickly he'd be a dead man. But some part of him was processing the information. That part of him apparently picked the phone back up and called the police, whilst the rest of his brain desperately tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

"I want it to stop," he managed to say.

Elizabeth was pretty sure as she sat in the back of the Ambulance with Rodney that she caught the paramedic in there with her glances at a syringe of sedative with what could only be described as longing. She couldn't blame him, Rodney could moan the hind and forelegs of a whole heard of donkeys and he was proving that currently. He wasn't even restricting himself to complaints about his injury, which would have been a lot more bearable. After all it's not everyday you get stabbed in the abdomen.

Elizabeth had plenty of thoughts of her own to engage herself with as she nodded sympathetically and held his hand. It had seemed somehow wrong when the police had forcibly led Aiden away, though they both knew that was how it would be. Aiden had been right, that despite the size of the city, it felt distinctly under populated as everyone really did seem to know each other. But in this case, it was probably an advantage. If Aiden did express a true desire to change, and she hoped to God he would, then people would remember who he was and where he came from and would be willing to help him make that change.

The ambulance pulled in at the hospital, ("Finally!" Rodney piped up, voice slurred from the sedative. "I could've made that journey at least 2 minutes faster!") and the paramedics busied about preparing to move him.

As he began to moan about how he was being man handled quite literally, Elizabeth began to seriously consider whether she could find a way round that whole "in sickness and in health" thing…