So here is the actual story.
This story is the first complete fanfiction I ever finished, and the longest finished story I have written so far. It originally was intended as a Christmas special and a present. Since then I have worked it over to fit in the timeline that has evolved around it in the meantime and defuse the worst schachtelsatz combinations. The writing style is still a lot three-years-ago-me, but I hope you still enjoy it.
The Twelve Dunns of Christmas
"Home, sweet home." A big smile on his face, Ethan took the bag from his shoulder and walked towards Luther, who had been waiting on a bench in the airport's arrival hall. He greeted his friend with a hug. "So actually managed to beat us here."
"Well, it was hard enough. And if I hadn't, I'd still be stuck on that block of ice. For at least three weeks. That's until next year!" Luther replied sourly after he had returned the hug anyway.
Ethan smiled apologetically. "I know, and I'm sorry, but if you hadn't gotten into Solitaire's server mainframe, I'd be spending Christmas in a German jail cell. And their headquarters happened to be located in Reykjavik."
"Besides you would have had an awesome white Christmas," Benji put in, while he loosened himself out of the embrace with which he had greeted his girlfriend, while gently leaving one arm on her shoulder and chivalrously taking her bag out of her hand.
Picking up his own bag, Luther snorted seemingly in dismay, but with the twinkle of a smile in his eyes: "White or not, I like my Christmas warm and dry, preferably on a tropical island."
"Anyway, how's the hand?" Ethan changed the topic, looking at Benji.
"Getting better. Quite fine by now, actually," the technician said, flexing the fingers of his left hand as if to prove it. "I'm just glad I can type with all my ten fingers again, writing with only one hand was driving me crazy. It's a shame I couldn't come to Europe with you."
"You've helped us a lot from here," Ethan reminded him, but the blond man was not quite satisfied.
"Well, yes. But it's not the same," he replied with a bit of a sad smile, but then his face brightened up again. "Anyhow, Brandt sends his regards, and as long as none of the usual disasters come in between, we're all going to have three weeks of leave as soon as we're through the whole post-mission procedure."
"Well, I know where I'll be going. Some place warm, dry, with white, sandy beaches and palm trees," Luther said with a dreamy look on his face.
Benji raised one questioning eyebrow, but after all, it was his vacation to spend. "Suit yourself. I think I'll be going to London, going home for Christmas, you know. And I had hoped that you would accompany me?" he asked, regarding the woman that was still leaning in his left arm with a loving smile.
Smiling back, Skye thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, although she had to get onto tiptoes for that. "I'd be delighted."
"Could we get on, please?" Luther asked a little more impatiently than he actually was, rolling his eyes.
Comradely Ethan slapped the taller man on the shoulder. "Cut them some slack, will you? They are in love, and they haven't seen each other in some time."
"Yeah, like five days," Luther grumbled.
Benji ignored them completely took a last look into those lovely, deep brown eyes before he drew away his arm to reach for the key in the pocket of his jacket. A moment later a silver IMF issue BMW was happily blinking at them from a little further down the street. "By the way, Ethan," Benji said, as he swung into the driver's seat. "I believe your wife is planing to take you skiing in the Alps. But you don't know that from me."
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
"And, here we are," Benji said, opening the door to what would be their apartment for the next three weeks. It had taken him time and nerves to get the flat for their vacation, but as currently there was no active operation in London, he had gotten permission for them to use it. Apart from Benji's persistence in asking, this was in no small part due to their performance in the last missions, and the extra time he had spend arguing about this with the paper-pushers was well worth it, considering its location in the middle of the city between Charing Cross, Covent Garden and Leicester Square, yet in a rather quiet side road, and the fact that it was spacious, nicely furnished and included internet access. That they didn't have to pay for it was an extra bonus, although unnecessary, since the IMF paid them more than well.
"Very nice," Skye smiled, taking in the room. The apartment was neither in a safe-house, nor a safe-room itself and therefore it wasn't protected by an identity lock, but could be opened with a key. It was a simple flat, used for observation, as a base of operations or as a place to live for agents awaiting extraction or new orders. However, like all IMF properties, it could also serve as an emergency hideout and was furnished accordingly: The closets in the two bedrooms, one with a double bed, one with two single beds, held an assortment of clothes for both male and female agents, with fitting outfits for different occasions, and in all possible sizes. The kitchen cupboards were well stocked with canned food and ready-made meals, as well as soft drinks, alcoholic beverages and, a specialty of English locations, a wide variety of tea. The furniture in the main room consisted mainly of broad, draw-out sofas with the obvious function to double as beds if necessary, yet nicely accompanied by low tea-tables. In an emergency situation, more than ten agents could comfortably hide here for several months.
Of course there were also secret lockers storing IMF-issue tech, weapons and ammunition, hidden behind wall panels, cupboards and the occasional painting on the wall, but those, as well as the up-link to the IMF network, were secured with palm-print, voice and retina-scan and code locks, and an agent had first to identify himself by at least two of those methods, depending on which of them where implemented, before access was granted.
Skye knew where all those secret lockers were, or at least she could have taken a very good guess. The architecture of IMF hideouts did not differ that much from one to the other and there were rather few spots where something could be hidden. However she sincerely hoped she would not need that knowledge, although they were staying in an IMF apartment, they were on vacation after all.
While she was inspecting the apartment, Benji had been rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards and obviously was not satisfied with their contents. "What do you say?" he asked, coming back into the living room. "While you get comfortable, I'll go out and get us some supplies. Do you need anything special?" he went on when she nodded and got his jacket from behind one of the sofas, where they had dropped their luggage.
With a smile, Skye let herself sink into the soft cushions. "Chocolate maybe?" she said. "I've been craving Maltesers ever since we landed." She had thought about going with him, but although not in this particular apartment, she had been to London a few times before and knew the central parts well enough already. The city could wait until later or even tomorrow.
"Alright," Benji replied and slipped into his jacket. He stopped by the sofa where she was sitting and carefully bent down to gently kiss her goodbye on the forehead. The height difference between them was already great enough when she was standing up, but now that she was sitting on the low sofa, he just didn't want to get all the way down to her cheek.
However, Skye didn't want to let him go like that. Looking up until his dark blue gaze locked with hers, she softly wrapped her arms around his neck, until her lips met the soft familiar warmth of his. It was not a very intense kiss, nor a long one, but one that held the promise of more.
"I won't be long," he promised, stealing himself out of her embrace.
Skye smiled back. "I know."
With a comfortable sigh, she stretched out on the sofa as the door closed behind him. She didn't mind staying behind, even after they hadn't seen for a while. They would have the next three weeks together, twenty-one days with no missions. Lots of time with nothing to do. Lots of time with nothing to worry about, only peace and quiet. And lots of time for all those little things one never got to in everyday life, especially not as an IMF agent. Things like reading a book.
Still, even now she could not quite let herself be carried away by the story. She had only just started with page three when something drew her attention away from the book. It was a noise she hadn't been able to identify, but by the time she realized that everything was already quiet again.
Silently she scolded herself for being so jumpy. She was an experienced field agent, there was little ordinary life could throw at her that she wouldn't be able to handle. Besides she was on vacation, there was no reason she should have to expect any trouble.
Skye forced herself to concentrate back on her reading, however, she couldn't really relax and as soon as her ears picked up the slightest sound, the words started to swim before her eyes.
It was the snap of a door-lock, she realized and tried to calm down. It could have come from any of the surrounding flats. And even if it had come from her door, the only one who could come in was Benji. Yet she sat up, tense and waiting, staring blankly at the pages in front of her, at words that did no longer have any meaning as her mind was now completely focused on the door. Skye let out a sigh of relief when the door opened and a familiar blond head peeked in.
"That was quick," she greeted her boyfriend with a hint of mock-challenge in her voice and put her book aside on the table. She wouldn't be able to get much further now anyway. Despite the sofa being quite low, she managed to stand up elegantly, and crossed the room in few long strides, until she stood right in front of him. "Did you forget something?"
"Oh. Uh, yes," the blond man replied, looking at her as if he had only noticed her just then. But although he was now looking at Skye, his look still had a somewhat absent-minded quality, and it felt as if he was actually looking through her, sweeping the room with his eyes, scanning, searching, for what?
Holt decided that she had to draw his focus back to what was important. Rising onto tiptoes, she softly placed her hands on his shoulders, her forearms carefully steadying her against his chest. Gently she reached up with her head to place a swift kiss onto his cheek, but even before her skin met his, she knew that there was something wrong.
"I wish you hadn't done that," said Benji's voice as that of another man. His handsome face was distorted by a sad, sarcastic smile that looked displaced on his usually bright features. Instinctively Skye shrank back, but by the time her mind had managed to catch up with the situation, her wrists were already caught in the talon-like clasp of his hands. She was still up on tiptoes, so her struggle threw her off balance and she stumbled against the low table.
The man hadn't anticipated the force of her resistance, and so they both toppled down, throwing the table onto its side and sending everything on it flying to the floor. After the short fight, Skye found herself in an even worse position than before. The goon had ended up on top of her, and she felt as if she was suffocating from the stench of his aftershave. Her legs were trapped underneath his knees, her wrists still caught in his unyielding grip and he had made sure to keep his hands out of the range of her teeth and fingernails. Yet it was more of a stalemate, for to stand up he would either have to let go of one of her hands to secure her ankles or give her legs free. Somewhat reluctantly, Holt stopped struggling.
"Good," said the man with a cold, satisfied grin that, in combination with her partner's face made the agent sick.
She responded with a look of pure hatred but forced herself to ease the tension in her muscles, to give in. Or at least to let it seem that way. It only made his grin broader, and Skye wanted to throw up.
"Alright, sweetheart. I'm going to stand up now," he said, and she could almost feel the layer of grime he added to Benji's voice. "Don't try anything stupid, or you're going to regret it."
Holt didn't feel the need to show in any way that she had understood or even heard what he had said, but obviously the goon didn't expect her to, for a moment later she felt the weight lift off her legs and the warm, tingling sensation of blood returning into her toes. Perched on his haunches, half over her, half next to her, he tightened his grip around her wrists. His fingernails painfully dug into her skin, as the man forcefully pulled her up.
Skye didn't wait until she had a secure stand. As soon as she could move her legs freely, she pushed up her right knee, ramming it into his stomach. The painful cough that followed told her that she had hit home, and the fingers around her wrists loosened slightly. Pushing herself off the floor with her left leg, Skye managed to place both of her feet against his chest and kicked hard. The force of her kick, combined with gravity, enabled her to at least free her right wrist, before her opponent's grip tightened again and a 180° mid-air barrel-roll saved her spine from crashing into the edge of the table.
The goon was only stunned for a moment, and by the time Holt hit the ground, his grip around her left arm was so tight again, she almost feared something might break. If it hadn't been clear before, it definitely was now that she had practically no chance of escape. However, she had managed to buy herself a second of time. Enough time to reach for the phone, which had gone unnoticed on the floor underneath the sofa, and shielded from the intruder's view by the furniture.
Skye just managed to activate the screen and push the 'emergency call'-button next to the input field for the unlock code, before the man seized her right arm, too, forcing her into a police-style arm-lock. He pulled her onto her knees, securing her legs with one foot that painfully bent her ankles, then rearranged her arms, so he could comfortably hold them with one hand.
Furiously Holt tried to find a way out, when she heard him rummaging in his pocket and then the short, sickening plop of a syringe being uncapped. With a last desperate effort, she tried to rip herself free, but before she could succeed, she already felt the sharp pierce of an injection in her neck.
She tried to fight but knew her chances were dwindling as she felt her strength being drained from her muscles. The world around her started turning sickeningly and Agent Holt knew that now she could only hope that the connection was still active and that someone would notice her call when everything faded to black.