Thank you for reading!

"Self Control"

Through the wall, something's breaking

- Laura Branigan

Joyce had no idea how long they'd been in the air so far. The rickety little plane didn't seem like it was going to make it another mile, much less all the way across the ocean to Russia. And buried in her fear that the plane would crash was her fear of what had happened to Hopper, now that Yuri had betrayed them. Had she foolishly walked into a trap? Was there no Hopper? Had she completely screwed up the whole plan and gotten him killed?

Meanwhile, in the cockpit, Yuri sat scooping peanut butter out of a jar, seeming very pleased with himself.

"Hey, Yuri," Murray called over the noise of the engines. "Yuri, I need to take a piss here."

Joyce rolled her eyes. Well, wasn't that just great. Just what they needed. "Just give it up," she snapped. "He can't hear you."

"I really do have to go, Joyce. This isn't some ploy to escape."

She wasn't sure what he expected Yuri to be able to do about that. There were hardly bathroom facilities on this piece of junk. And maybe if Murray had drank less coffee, he could have fought the effects of the drug and they wouldn't be in this situation. But she was hardly in a position to get on her high horse about that, so she kept her mouth shut.

Over Murray's shoulder, she glared at Yuri. Then the import of what she had just said struck her, and she repeated it. "He can't hear."

"What?"

Ignoring Murray, she looked at the box of peanut butter in front of her. The open box. Of glass jars. Stretching to the limits of her bonds, she started kicking at it, hoping to dislodge one of the jars.

"Joyce, what are you doing?"

She kept kicking until the box fell over, the jars cascading onto the floor, several of them smashing.

"Joyce!" Murray shouted.

"My leg is too short," she said, straining to reach one of the pieces of broken glass. "Can you grab that shard with your foot?"

"Perhaps, you know, we should talk this through first."

"What is there to talk through?" They were tied up. If they were going to be any use to Hopper, or themselves, or her children, they needed not to be. "We cut our binds, we break free."

"Yes, okay, then what?"

"Then you take him out!"

"Take him out?"

"You know karate. You said you were a black belt."

"We're ten thousand feet in the air, Joyce," Murray pointed out. "I take him, who flies this plane?"

That was a tough call. "All right," she conceded, "so don't knock him out. Just get his gun and make him turn us around."

"Get his gun. Just like that, huh?"

"Is black not the highest color?"

"Yes. It's just …"

"Just what?"

"I've never fought in a real-world scenario, okay?" he admitted. "I've only sparred with the other students."

Joyce's heart sank. "How old?"

"It doesn't go younger than thirteen." He gave her a smile, like he hadn't been lying to her—or at least stretching the truth—all this time.

"Thirteen?"

"But Jeremiah is sixteen! Almost. His birthday is next month. And … and Jeremiah is a ferocious fighter. Lightning fast. Very skilled." As Joyce rolled her eyes and groaned, Murray stopped. He whispered, "And I beat him. That one time."

God, she should have known better than to trust him.

"And certainly Yuri is not trained or skilled like Jeremiah," Murray went on. "So, yes. Yes, you're right. I can defeat Yuri. Absolutely." Murray grinned, clearly seeing it in his head, which did not comfort Joyce in the least. "Thank you for talking it through. I feel much better now. Yeah."

Joyce supposed she was glad he felt better, because she most definitely did not.

At least he was finally on board with trying to reach the broken glass and cut themselves free with it. They hurried as best they could. The peanut butter jars weren't exactly made of heavy-duty glass, and the rope was thick, so it wasn't as easy as Joyce had hoped.

But at last Joyce was free. She was frantically sawing at Murray's binds when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She shrieked and whirled around to see Yuri standing over her, gun in hand.

"Naughty, naughty bird. Did you fall out of your nest?" Joyce was backing up and Yuri was advancing on her. "Where do you think you are going? Come on. Be a good girl now and get back to your place."

"Or what? Are you going to shoot me?" She didn't know much about planes, but she was pretty sure a bullet hole in one that was actively flying would be bad. And she suspected she wasn't worth much dead. "I … I don't think the KGB would like that."

"You're right, I cannot kill you, but KGB didn't specify condition you must arrive in. You are fragile cargo. You can still break."

Joyce tripped over something behind her and sat down hard.

Then from behind Yuri came Murray's voice. "Not if I break you first."

Yuri turned around to face him.

Murray struck a frankly pretty ridiculous pose, standing there in the middle of the plane. "My fingers are like arrows. My arms, like iron. My feet, like spears." He snapped to a different pose. "Resist, and I will end you. But turn this plane around, and I will spare your life."

Joyce wasn't sure she blamed Yuri for laughing. If she wasn't so disgusted with Murray for lying to her and herself for believing him, she might have laughed, too.

But then Murray kicked Yuri and the gun flew from his hand and skidded underneath a bench. Yuri stopped laughing. He launched himself at Murray and the two of them started punching each other. Joyce ignored them both and went looking for the gun. If she had that, then it wouldn't matter that Murray's black belt was apparently meant for children.

She found the gun, but the opening it had slid into was very narrow and she couldn't get her arm, encased in the bulky coat, into it.

Then the two men did something and the plane started straight down. Joyce was lifted into the air, banging painfully against the ceiling of the plane, and the gun slid out and across the floor, out of her reach.

The plane righted itself, both Murray and Yuri shouting at each other as they continued to fight. At last Joyce reached the gun, cocking it with trembling fingers. She aimed it at the back of Yuri's head. "Let him go! Let him go!" Without intending to, she fired. Twice.

The plane began making alarmed beeping sounds. Yuri did something and it started climbing rapidly into the sky, sending Joyce flying backwards, the gun falling out of her hands.

As she tried to get to her feet again, she could hear Murray calling out, "My fingers are like arrows! My arms, like iron! My feet, like spears!" And then Yuri landed on the ground like a sack of potatoes. Out like a light, with Murray standing over him looking triumphant.

Joyce was impressed … but she would have been more impressed if Murray had also known how to fly a plane. "What did you do?"

Murray stared at her, uncomprehending. "What?"

"I said, 'don't knock him out!'"

They looked at each other, then at the cockpit, and scrambled forward, taking the seats. Murray fumbled with the console as they buckled themselves in.

"I thought you didn't know how to fly!" Joyce shouted over the sound of the engines and the wind.

"I don't!"

With a coughing sound and a cloud of black smoke, the engine quit, and the plane dropped out of the sky, Joyce and Murray screaming all the way down.

Joyce grabbed the handles in front of her, yanking on them as hard as she could. "Pull up! Pull up!" She didn't know what that meant, but she had seen it in an episode of The A-Team, so it must mean something.

Murray was pulling, too, and the plane's descent slowed, but they were still approaching the tree-dotted land below them faster than Joyce would have liked.

And they hit the land, snow spraying through the broken windshield and over them as they screamed and covered their faces.