Disclaimer : I own nothing, but the typos. Oh and the OCs.
Warnings : Rated T for language.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who read, favorited and followed so far. And thank you so much to everyone who's left a review. I'll be (hopefully) be sending those thank you PMs out sooner rather than later. As long ff and the baby play nice.
Enjoy.
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Tim ends up locked in the employee break room with Rosalind and Maurice. Unfortunately, the ambiance and magic of the store doesn't carry over into this depressing space. With its peeling linoleum and broken chairs and army green lockers, it looks more like a prison more than a place where the "people who make dreams come true" get to relax.
With his hands bound in front of him, Tim struggles to release the tiny knife in his belt buckle. It was a parting gift from Tony, who said it was a requirement for all very special agents to have one. Tim has never been more thankful in his life for Tony's quirky—and practical—present.
Tim's sweaty fingers slip over the smooth metal and leather. Tony always made it look so easy during their training exercises. Even though terror rises in his gut, Tim fights to keep it at bay.
Rosalind and Maurice are counting on me to get us out of here. No pressure.
"We're going to die," Maurice moans.
Tim bites the inside of his cheek. "I already told you that we're not going to die."
"Yes, we are."
Placing her hands on Maurice's shoulder, Rosalind watches Tim with earnest eyes. It's as though he is as transparent as cellophane and she knows he has no idea what the fuck he is doing.
He turns away from her.
Perspiration begins to soak through his shirt, but he won't let them see that he teeters on the edge of panic with them. Because if he loses his cool, all hope—and probably their lives—are as good as gone.
"They're going to take all of the jewelry," Maurice groans. "Then they're going to come back here and shoot us. We're going to die." He throws his head back against the wall, moaning and looking heavenward.
Tim shoots Rosalind a look that says please, shut him up.
All it takes is one panicking hostage to bring the dirtbags back here before Tim is ready to fight. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is nothing but cotton balls. Knowing that he is on his own right now is terrifying. He is used to having his team is one step behind him. Even though Tony is just outside, he probably has no idea what the hell is going on. And it's not like that matters because Tony isn't even an agent anymore. What could he do against the dirtbags without his weapon?
"Hey Maurice," Rosalind coos as though she talks to a child, "Tim came back to buy that ring."
"So what?" he shoots back.
"I guess that means I owe you twenty bucks, huh?"
Maurice makes a face. "Yeah? And?"
"Well, you said that Tim didn't look the kind of guy who would spend that kind of money." Tim gives Maurice a dirty look as Rosalind continues: "And you said that you're never wrong." She tilts her head, half-smiles at Tim. "But hey, look. He came back."
He obviously isn't following, but Tim isn't either.
"Yeah, and?" Maurice snaps.
"You were wrong about Tim. Maybe you're wrong about us dying?" She squeezes his shoulder hard enough to make him look up at her. "So I guess I owe you the money."
Maurice stifles a sob. "What does it matter if they kill us?"
When Rosalind looks at him hopelessly, Tim wishes Tony were here. If nothing else because Tony would know exactly what to say to diffuse the situation and shut Maurice the hell up.
"I won't let that happen," Tim tries.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Maurice snaps. "You're too busy trying to take your pants off to do anything!"
"I'm a federal agent and – " Tim narrows his eyes at Maurice " – like I already told you, there's a knife in my belt buckle that I'm going to use to get us out of here."
At that moment, Tim wrests the tiny blade free. His moment of triumph is short lived. It slips out of his fingers to skitter under the lockers. He follows it to the floor, lying on his stomach to peer through the dust and fossilized bits of food and empty candy wrappers. The knife is gone for good.
"Fuck," Tim growls.
Maurice shies away from Rosalind. "See? I told you. We're going to die."
When he moves towards the door, she is glued to his side. Raw terror edges onto his features and Tim instantly recognizes that flash in Maurice's eyes. He is a man with nothing left to lose, concerned with only his survival. A loose cannon, at best. Someone that will get them all killed, at worst.
Rosalind pulls herself to her full height, which isn't much. She gets close enough to Maurice for her pregnant belly to graze his stomach.
Oh shit, they're going to fight.
Tim scrambles to his knees. "Let's just – "
"We're going to die!" Maurice wails. "And that federal agent can't save us! We – "
"Keep it down," Tim interrupts. "Those guys are going to hear you."
"We're going to die. I'm too young to – "
"Just shut the fuck up, Maurice!" Rosalind screams, her face going red. "Tim is trying to be nice, but you need to just shut up! If we die, it's going to be your fucking fault! All you've done is whine about dying when you should be helping."
Tim jumps to his feet. "Rosalind, be quiet. Please."
But she is on too much of a roll to stop. "You know what, Maurice, all you ever do is bitch about everything! I don't put the rings away right! I forget to clean the glass in the cases! Well, you know what! I've never got us into a situation like this! This whole thing is your fault! You let those men into the store while I was on break! That's against protocol!"
Tim slips in between them, grabbing Rosalind to pull her away. But for such a slight person, she is more powerful than he expects. She jerks herself out of his grasp to get back in Maurice's face.
She points a finger accusingly at his nose. "If we die, it's your fault!"
Maurice narrows his eyes. "Fuck you, Rosalind! You're fired!"
"Oh, so now we're going to live so you can fire me?" She laughs humorlessly. "You can take this job and shove it up your ass, Maurice! I quit!"
"Both of you! Just shut up!" Tim yells. When the pair glare at him, he drops his voice: "Remember those guys that broke into the store? The ones with the guns? If they hear us, they might just – "
The clicking of the lock on the break room door echoes through the lounge, making them all go silent. When Fisher and Harlan step into the room, Tim barely manages to bite back a curse. Both dirt bags keep their weapons trained on their hostages. They're herded into a corner, then Harlan carefully appraises them.
"Which one of you wants to take a ride?" he asks, flatly.
Maurice slumps his shoulders as he studies the tops of his shoes. Rosalind stares at the pair defiantly while Tim puts himself in front of the store employees.
He straightens his back. "Take me."
"You've got a bit of a hero complex there, Lover Boy." Harlan smiles bemusedly at Fisher. "What do you think, Fisher? Should we take Lover Boy up on his offer?"
Shaking his head, Fisher grabs Rosalind's arm. "I think we should take her. She's nice to look at." He runs a long finger underneath her chin and she looks away. "Very, very pretty."
"Please. My baby," she begs.
Harlan presses his lips together, pretends to consider before he says: "I just did, Prego. Now, let's go."
When they start to hustle her towards the door, Tim launches a desperate, last-ditch attack on the pair. He shoves Harlan forward, sending the man sprawling into the door jamb. When Harlan turns around, blood flows freely from his now crooked nose.
He glares at Tim. "Alright, Fisher, let's give Lover Boy what he wants."
"Right," Fisher replies.
After he shoves Rosalind roughly to the floor, Fisher grabs Tim by the arm. Maurice darts across the room to kneel beside Rosalind. She buries her face in his shoulder as her quiet sobs fill the room. Maurice stares at Tim with a sorrowful, grateful stare.
Tim holds his breath as Harlan and Fisher hustle him into the hallway.
Harlan turns to him, eyes murderous. "We would have let her go, Lover Boy. As for you..."
Setting his jaw, Tim defiantly holds Harlan's stare.
Harlan's face curls into a sadistic smile. "As for you, you'll be lucky if the cops ever find your body."