Risico
Chapter 21: Voices
Hello readers! Been awhile, huh? I do apologize for that! Exams and all sure have been a pain in the ass this year! But it's over and done with, and now I can hopefully get back to my usually (and much faster) updating! I just hope you guys haven't forgotten about this story! XD
Reviews:
Hi: Poor Al, indeed! :P
Ilovesmilingfools: He does, oh yes, he very much enjoys his job. Heh. ;P
Funky Bracelet Chick: xD It actually is pretty funny to imagine. LOL
Trumpet-Geek: Alfred is always sexy, dear. No exceptions. ;)
Bella: Ah, what a Romeo! ;P
Kay: Yes, lil Tino is something of that sort. General bad assery all around. I'm so proud of you! I'm really shocked you haven't started asking for Roddy yet, actually. Teehee.
Blackcat: Lol, the Nordics need more time in the awesome spotlight. ;P Grazie!
No Pain No Gain: Oh my! Thank you! ^^ Well at least you don't have to wait long, huh, dear? Hehe, don't die! I'd rather be pressured than you die! LOL.
*~.:Risico:.~*
"Is h' even al've? I c'n h'rdly se' him br'athin'."
"Oh, he's alive! I didn't even hit him!" Mathias' eerily familiar voice reverberated around Alfred's hazy mind as he slowly came to consciousness.
The first voice grunted a dismissal of the subject.
Alfred drearily opened his eyes to see the blurred figures of four people standing in front of him. He felt the sharp sting of tight binds on his wrists again when he tried to move, and groaned.
"Zǎǎao ān, Jones." Another voice greeted, leaning closer to Alfred. Looking up, the agent could make out most of the man's features if he squinted. He had a slender, feminine face, large golden-brown eyes and dark chestnut hair tied in a ponytail. While his figure wasn't imposing, there was nothing comforting about the predatory smirk on his lips and the glint in his eyes.
"Huh?" Alfred groaned. His mind was too muddled to decipher the change in language. The golden-eyed man chuckled.
"I said, 'good morning, Jones.'" He retorted, tilting Alfred's chin up. He dug his nails into the soft flesh of the agent's face, clicking his tongue in satisfaction when Alfred winced.
The blue-eyed agent snarled. The pain wasn't unbearable, but the way the smaller man looked down at him made Alfred's blood boil; it was like a malicious cat looking down on a bird with broken wings.
He averted his eyes, refusing to feel so helpless. His eyes alighted on the three other figures in the room. There was Mathias, grinning dangerously; behind him stood Berwald, aloof and sight fixed in a leer; and Tino, who watched Alfred from beside his tall Swedish companion with some sort of sympathy.
"You're terribly rude." Yao commented, still smirking, and bringing Alfred's attention back to him. "I was trying to be polite."
Alfred resisted the urge to snap back and kept his vulgar retort to himself as the man released his jaw. He could feel where Yao's nails had left deep red crescent marks in his skin.
"Don't worry, because you're going to make it up to me. I have a proposal that you simply cannot refuse."
"And just why would I agree to do anything for you?" Alfred asked, carefully lowering his tone.
"Well, most importantly, you don't have a choice. If you don't agree and obey like a good little boy, then I'll kill you." He said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Then you might as well get it over with. I won't be used by scum like you."
"Oh, is that so? Why do you say that? You don't know me, and you have no idea what I have planned."
"Wrong. I know who you are. You're Wang Yao, and I know I'm not going to like any plans you have for me." Alfred returned, still keeping his voice even. "I'm not afraid of your empty threat, or dying for that matter."
Yao laughed bitterly.
"I know you're lying. Everyone fears death in some manner, it's just a matter of how to invoke that fear. Besides, you don't have to like it, agent Jones, you just have to obey."
"I told you. I refuse."
"Hmm, very well. Then you're lover and brother are going to have to pay for your insolence." Yao said airily, gesturing towards Mathias. The Dane pulled the revolver from its holster with a wicked grin.
Alfred rolled his eyes.
"Right. Like I haven't heard that hollow threat before. You don't scare me."
Yao twirled his finger through a lock of his dark hair absently.
"Your brother, Matthew Williams-Jones', plane is set to arrive back in London at 12:15pm on December 30th, terminal four on a Delta flight from Newark. A black Honda rental car will be waiting for him when he arrives. Wouldn't it be unfortunate if that rental car happened to wired with explosives?"
Alfred instantly felt the hot blood chill in his veins. His heart rate soared, thundering painfully in his chest. There was no way Yao could have known any of that information. The CIA guarded all of their travel information extensively during missions. Then again, Yao had known Alfred would be trying to infiltrate their ranks as well. Maybe he'd gotten Matthew's flight details from the same source as before.
"Or maybe a certain SIS agent, Arthur Kirkland, could meet a tragic end with a bullet through his skull while walking to the Archway Post Office to collect his mail?"
Yao groomed his fingers through his ponytail. He only glanced up to ensure that he had Alfred's attention, and was delighted by thin shimmer of fear that darkened the agent's blue eyes. "But, who knows!" He shrugged. "I'm full of surprises."
The CIA agent grit his teeth. His heart shuddered at the thought of either Arthur or Matthew meeting their deaths because of him. Yao carried on, propelling the fearful momentum even further.
"It's a shame isn't it? The two people you care about most at stake, and I can take them both way with one simple command." He glanced at Mathias, who was absently spinning the revolver's drum. The Dane met Yao's eyes for a moment, before turning on his heel to leave.
Berwald cocked a brow, waiting to see Alfred's response. Tino didn't look very pleased with the situation. He stood close to the big Swede, watching Alfred and Yao through narrowed violet eyes.
Just before the grinning Dane opened the door to the room, Alfred found his voice, and called:
"Wait!"
While he detested the loathsome, victorious grin on Yao's lips, Alfred couldn't just let the violent Dane run off to hurt Arthur and Matthew.
"Are you ready to reconsider, Mr. Jones?"
Alfred swallowed hard. He felt torn, confused and angry. He could possibly be betraying the CIA if he agreed to whatever Yao had planned, but if he didn't, Arthur and Matthew could get hurt or even killed. He felt an ugly, revolting guilt curl up in the pit of his stomach. He'd have to take the lesser of the two moral evils.
This is my own fault. I shouldn't have gotten caught. But it's too late now. I just have to make the best of this, and keep Yao from hurting Artie or my brother. He decided firmly, forcing the resolve on his racing heart. He had to calm down and think through this carefully.
"What exactly do you want, Yao?"
"Why don't I untie you, and we can talk about this liked civilized people, hmm?" The smaller redirected.
"Fine." Alfred said, waiting impatiently as Mathias pulled out a switchblade from his pocket, and sawed through the binds.
The Dane leaned over his shoulder, smirking as he murmured:
"Don't try anything stupid, Jones, or I'll stick this knife in your spine." He said, tapping the nape of Alfred's neck with the switchblade for the assured validity of his threat.
The American scoffed, shifting as the ropes fell away from his middle. He rubbed his sore wrists where the binds had been too tight and had left angry scarlet marks on his skin.
Yao pulled up a chair in front of Alfred. When he sat down he crossed one leg over the other, leaned back and clasped his hands in his lap. The blue-eyed agent felt uncomfortable under Yao's smug stare, and his posture was like rubbing salt in the wound. He was powerless, completely at Yao's mercy, and the golden-eyed man knew it.
"Don't interrupt me. Save whatever questions or moral standing issues you have for when I'm finished. Understand?"
Alfred nodded slowly, and settled in to listening as Yao began to unveil his plans for the unfortunate CIA agent.
*~.:Risico:.~*
5 Weeks later…
*~.:Risico:.~*
"I simply cannot take this, Matthew! Five weeks and two days, and still not a single phone call to anyone! Something is very wrong, and I know you know it!" Arthur shouted frantically as he paced the main room of his flat. Matthew, who was currently sitting on the couch, watching him, threw up his hands in exasperation. The Brit had been in an aggressive panic for nearly an hour now, and showed no signs of calming down anytime soon.
"Arthur, calm down! I'm just as upset as you are!" The elder American tried to assure.
"No! Clearly you are not or you'd be doing something about this!" The Brit rounded on Matthew, his voice high in fury.
Matthew's eyes narrowed.
"Don't go there, Kirkland. You know very well I'm doing everything I can."
Arthur lowered his gaze to glare at the indigo-eyed man, looking as if he were about to lash out again. However, when he met those strangely colored eyes, he knew he had overstepped his boundaries. He felt guilt tighten his chest with shame at the realization.
Arthur loosed a weary sigh as he quelled his budding anger.
"I apologize, Matthew. That was out of line."
"It was, but it's understandable. I probably would have snapped too." Matthew assured, rubbing at his tired eyes.
"I miss him…" The Brit admitted, finally halting his stressful pacing as his leg muscles began to twitch in protest at their frantic workout. He ungracefully flopped down on the couch beside Matthew.
The elder CIA agent patted the shorter's shoulder with sympathy.
"I do too, Arthur."
"What could have possibly happened? You don't think he's dead, do you?" Arthur asked, his voice rising an octave.
Matthew shook his head.
"No. I'd know if Al was dead."
"How?"
"I don't really know, but I would. Al and I have always been really close. I used to get this weird feeling when something bad would happen to him. I've always known when Al's been in trouble."
"Some sort of brotherly connection? Has it always been right?"
"I guess, yeah. Just don't worry about it. My brother's alive. He has to be." Matthew declared, watching Arthur from his peripheral vision. The Brit was nervously clenching his jaw, and his hands trembled slightly. Matthew knew it must have been hard on Arthur. The Brit didn't have the instinctual reassurance that Matthew did when it came to matters regarding his wild brother.
"What could have happened?" Arthur muttered rhetorically again, slowly shaking his head.
"Maybe he's being monitored? In previous missions, he's missed check-ins to keep his cover secure." Matthew suggested, hoping to calm the emerald-eyed man's fears.
"Or maybe he's being tortured." Arthur retorted, eyes downcast. He just couldn't shake the feeling that Alfred was in danger. His stomach felt weak, and his thoughts were moving dizzily with rabid, horrible scenarios. He didn't particularly care that his comment hadn't exactly pleased Matthew; the elder American needed to understand that trying to coddle the Brit wasn't helping. He needed solid information, not sympathetic guesses.
Keeping his temper under control, the indigo-eyed agent rose from the couch, stiffly informing Arthur that he was going to make coffee to help clear their tired minds, since they clearly needed it. Neither had slept more than a few hours each night under the constant stress of Alfred's unapparent situation. Both the SIS and the CIA were pressing them for constant updates in the matter of contacting the missing blue-eyed agent as well. Arthur welcomed the idea of caffeine, despite not having a taste for coffee, and the guilty relief of being alone for a few minutes.
The Brit put his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms over his bleary eyes.
Please, Alfred, wherever the Hell you are, find away to let me know you're all right. I'm going insane worrying about you, you fucking git!
He stayed like that until Matthew reentered the main room with two full mugs in tow. Arthur looked up and accepted the hot cup from him along with a few packets of sugar and cream. He tore open the packets and dumped them all in, swirling the coffee until it was pale beige.
Matthew took a sip of his black coffee before setting it down and sighing.
"Al drinks his coffee like that. Full of sugar and cream until it doesn't even taste like coffee anymore."
Arthur blinked, staring down into the opaque drink somberly. Of course he'd known that, since every morning Alfred had been bed ridden from his injuries, Arthur had made his coffee. He'd even taken a few sips of it when his usual morning tea needed a little extra to fully jumpstart him in the morning. It was the only way he drank coffee now: the same way his American paramour did.
The SIS agent set the steaming mug down on the table in front of the couch without a word.
"Sorry." Matthew apologized, taking another sip from his mug.
"Don't be. I-" He was cut off as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Arthur grumbled, fishing for it. It was buried in the inner folds and he had to stand up to finally grab it. He didn't bother to look at the caller id, barely having enough time to answer the call before it went to voicemail.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Artie? Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again."
The Brit felt his knees give out, and he sank to the floor, cradling the phone against his ear.
"Oh God, Alfred. You're alive. You're alive." Arthur murmured the mantra again and again, trying to work it all through his mind.
Matthew knelt beside him, worried for Arthur, but excited to hear his brother's name on the emerald-eyed man's lips.
"Yeah, I'm alive, Artie. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but we have a lot to talk about. Is my bro with you?"
"Yes. He's here." Arthur answered in a trembling daze.
"Great… Hey, Artie?"
"What, you insufferable twit?" The shorter murmured with an affection only Alfred could understand in his tone. He felt his eyes sting and moisten just listening to the blue-eyed agent's strong tenor voice again.
"I missed you."
"I missed you as well."
"I love you."
Arthur sighed, and suddenly pushed the phone into Matthew's hands with a sharp, shaky scoff.
"Here. Talk to your git of a brother before I have to murder him for making me cry." Arthur explained, wiping away the hot, wet tears that had begun to trickle down his pale cheeks. Alfred was alive. And that was all Arthur's worried heart needed to know for now to finally settle down.
*~.:Risico:.~*
Gah! The emotions! D,:
No fun stuff to explain. Hope you liked! ^^