Home for Christmas

Chapter 1

"You need to leave me, or I can't go."

"Jus' go bitch."

"I can't." Arya folded her arms across her chest and looked him in the eye, defying him to take her back to the control room.

He had a battered old Kalashnikov cradled in his arms and sandals on his feet that were too big and didn't even match. Funny how you still noticed mundane stuff like that when you could be dead at any moment. He was just a dirt poor village boy. High on God knows what, but a boy all the same. She supposed there would be no end of boys eager to risk their lives for a share in the million pound ransoms these pirates demanded, and sometimes got, from western governments and oil companies. She almost felt sympathy for the Rat Boy (she'd taken to calling him that in her head). This might be his way of getting a better life for himself, but when it came down to it, she knew but he'd kill her, kill them all with no hesitation and he'd do it whether a ransom was paid or not.

"If you don't leave, I'm just gonna piss myself and it's gonna stink in this heat. Up to you." She shrugged, a bead of sweat trickling down her back.

As she hoped, he relented and, cursing in Pidgin English, closed the door to the ladies toilet behind him with a slam.

Once she was in the cubicle, she thumbed the lock and lent her forehead against the cool metal. This was the first time she had been alone in the last hellish twelve hours; the first time she had any respite from the ceaseless, drugged-up threats of the pirates and the constant snivelling from some of her co-works. Who would have thought Greyjoy would have proved to be such a coward? He had hardly stopped intoning "We're all gonna die," under his breath since the fucking Pirates had taken over the rig. Maybe they were, but she didn't need reminding of it every five seconds.

She didn't know how long she had, so she'd better actually pee before Rat Boy came back. If it all went down, she didn't want to be pissing herself and the next couple of hours were critical. If someone was going to attempt a rescue, she knew it would be soon. Twelve hours in, the Pirates were beginning to relax, getting tired, hadn't yet organised themselves into sleeping shifts. If it wasn't soon, it would be weeks or months of waiting while the oil company or their Governments negotiated. Or not. She didn't fancy her chances if this went on for even another day.

It had taken the Pirates all of ten minutes to discover they had one woman amongst the eleven Europeans they'd captured. They'd taken Needle off her then. The feel of three pairs of eager hands on her as they searched her still made her shudder. She'd get the first lot that tried to rape her of course, but they'd be wary after that and she had counted at least sixteen of them - most of them high on drugs from what she had seen. Only their lack of firm leadership had stopped them attempting it already. Sure, there was a leader somewhere, but he was safe, at the other end of their walkie-talkies and none of the rest of them had been able to decide if they would get away with raping a woman they hadn't expected to find. Their indecision wouldn't last forever. No way would she survive weeks of captivity with that lot.

She had half a dozen fully formed plans in her head already; every one of which ended in her death, but if she was going down, she would be taking as many of the fuckers with her as she could.

She said a silent prayer for a rescue and blew out a resigned breath, pushing herself off the cubicle door.

Someone up there obviously liked her, as she immediately heard a loud "Psst" from above her head. She looked up and straight into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. The rest of his face was covered, leaving just a pair of eyes suspended above her in the air conditioning duct.

"Christ, am I glad to see you," she whispered.

"You were expecting me?" He grinned, straight white teeth appearing in the blackness. She was reminded of The Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland; only eyes and a smile hanging in the air.

"Praying for anyone," she snorted. "Who are you?"

She hoped she already knew. That wasn't an American accent and if he was from mainland European, his English was damned good.

"SAS, but we'll need to finish the introductions later Arya."

It was her turn to grin. A wave of relief washed over her. He knew her name. Jon was doing his damndest to make sure she got out of this alive.

"You're our 'in' Arya. I've been hanging here waiting on you. We hoped they'd let you go pee sometime. Now listen…"

She nodded, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She'd never listened to anyone as intently in her life.

"You've got twenty minutes from the time you step back out there. Twenty minutes before we come in through the roof. I'm told you know the drill; concussion grenades, smoke, confusion, always take the kill shot…"

She nodded again. Jon had explained how they did it plenty of times. She'd grown up hearing about it from Jon, from her Father, from Robb. This was her chance to make it all count. Make them proud.

"You warn whoever you can trust to keep quiet. Don't risk alerting the targets. You get the hostages down if you can when the time comes, but I've been told to say this to you – no heroics. You keep yourself safe first and foremost and that's an order." His voice was deep, calm but demanding.

She smiled. Jon again. She could just imagine him saying the same thing. God willing, he'd get the chance to lecture her again soon.

"And I've to give you this…"

A large, bare hand appeared from the blackness, presenting a handgun to her, grip first. She recognised it immediately as a SIG P232, their go-to weapon for a concealed carry. As she reached up to take it from his outstretched hand, their fingers touched for the briefest moment, yet it was long enough to send a jolt of electricity shooting through her. She actually wondered if he'd given her an electric shock as her eyes shot up to his. His were unwavering, betraying nothing. She must have imagined it. As her every nerve was now stretched tight with anticipation, every sense heightened for the imminent attack, perhaps it wasn't surprising.

"You got somewhere you can hide that?"

"Sure." She unzipped her orange boiler suit down to the waist, checked the safety was on and then pushed the pistol into her bra. It was held tightly between her breasts by thick, black lace. It was invariable too hot to wear anything else under their boiler suits and fancy underwear was Arya's one concession to femininity. She didn't bother to zip it up before she looked up into those blue eyes again,

"I've still got to pee."

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Don't look."

"Sure." The blue eyes and the white teeth abruptly disappeared. If hadn't heard him breathing, she would have sworn the vent was empty.

She shrugged her shoulders out of the suit, pushed it and her panties down to her knees and sat on the toilet. Now was not the time to be a prude. Nevertheless, the noise of her pee tinkling into the toilet, shattering the silence, made her cringe with embarrassment. Thank God it wasn't more than a pee she needed. She still had to bite her bottom lip to stop from giggling as the tinkling went on and on and on – it had been eighteen hours since she had last peed after all. This would have been funny if it wasn't so awful. She might be dead in twenty minutes and she was worrying about some random guy hearing her pee. She groaned and rolled her eyes skyward, mortified, only to find his blue eyes open again and watching her.

"Fuck off!" she hissed as angrily and as loudly as she dared.

The blue was instantly gone again, but she would have sworn she saw the pink edges of his mouth tugging up in a grin.

"Perv," she muttered as she stood up. She might have heard him chuckle as she did her best to reach blindly for some toilet paper and wipe herself without taking her eyes off the air vent above her head. The square stayed reassuringly black.

"Right I'm finished." She whispered as she zipped the boiler suit, not intending to look up again.

"Hey, Arya."

She looked up into serious blue eyes.

"No heroics."

"Sure."

"See you on the other side."

"See you on the other side." She echoed. God, she hoped so. She wouldn't let herself think on the alternative.

Her eyes flicked away from his as the toilet door was opened with a crash. Rat Boy was back.

"You done yet bitch?!"

Time to go. She allowed herself one final look up as she unlocked the cubicle door, but there was only black.