Note: Stadt is the German word for city centre.

Cause after all the smoke clears

I will be right here...

"This is CNN, bringing you today's headlines. The fateful hijack and crash of Phoenix Air's Flight PX505 is still under investigation but new developments have been made in the case.

The collaborative police force of British and Qatari officers has now conducted full, multi-tiered interrogations of the two hijackers and new information has been released.

The two men, Kenny Carter, a native of Liverpool, England and Sergei Ikonovich of Riga, Latvia, have been held at an undisclosed location, and have yet to be reported at any British or Qatari prisons.

Kenny Carter, forty-two, has been verified as a flight engineer for Phoenix Air, news which has sent ripples of shock across the aviation industry. Carter is an ex-army veteran and was discharged when a bullet to his knee rendered him unfit for active duty. He is said to have been in heavy debt due to a gambling problem, and despite of an exorbitant amount of loans issued from Phoenix, as per the Employee Hardship Assistance Fund, he had been unable to repay even a quarter of the dues.

Carter is reported to be single and living alone in a Council flat in Liverpool, and has an ex-wife and two sons, all from whom he is said to be estranged.

How and why Carter, a long-time employee of Phoenix Air, decided to hijack a plane belonging to his own airline is yet to be known.

His hospital records have shown that he has been severely injured. It is said he needs mechanical help with breathing, is yet to gain full function of his broken arm and hand, and has trouble with speech and sight, issues which seem to be hindering the investigation. It has also come to light that he suffers from PTSD.

According to sources, Sergei Ikonovich, thirty-two is a member of AXU, the Latvian criminal organisation which has recently taken responsibility for the hijack and crash. It is said that Ikonovich flew to London from Riga just a day before the hijack. CCTV footage of him entering Carter's Liverpool flat have surfaced, along with another man who is yet to be identified.

It is yet to be determined exactly how deeply Carter is involved with AXU, but preliminary checks have made it quite clear that his enormous debt may have something to do with it.

Captain Khan and Officer Mohammad are still suspended, with Captain Khan and Omar Maktabi free from suspicion but still under investigation.

Phoenix Air has taken quite a financial hit in recent times. However, experts say that given the collective wealth of the two magnates, and the net worth and revenue of Phoenix Air, these losses are unlikely to cause any major setbacks.

The only major concern for Phoenix, Maktabi and Khan will be the damage to their reputations. How will Phoenix Air continue its previously uncontested reign in the skies if the smear of the hijack and crash isn't wiped completely clean from the record?

More on this as new developments occur."

The two men in question sat in Murtasim's office at his headquarters in Doha, high up in Aspire Tower. Omar had arrived unexpectedly and unexpectedly cheery. Unfortunately, good moods were usually hampered when one's pictures started flashing on a gigantic TV, accompanied with flashing headings filled with questionable insinuations.

Murtasim leaned back onto the chocolate-brown leather sofa, his eyes dark with deep thought as he watched the headlines flash by. Omar swore softly, his jaw tense as he shook his head and let put a frustrated breath.

The news was way behind, and just as well. The two hijackers were currently being kept in an undocumented facility off the shores of Qatar; a tiny island which was now classified as a controlled and restricted zone under the Qatari military, and only accessible by planes or boats with the authorised clearing.

The sinister isolation combined with the full force of the Qatari commandos had been no match for Carter or Ikonovich. Information had been extracted fairly easily. Carter had been the weakest link, breaking without much resistance. Ikonovich had proved to be tougher; hardened by his years in the AXU, but one could only withstand so much torture. Every man had a breaking point, and the men dealing with the hijackers had been issued a clear order; do whatever it took to get every single crumb of truth. There were no limits.

It was borderline unethical, but this was Qatar. It had all the frills of ruling Sheikh, a parliament and a military, but it was also a small, tightly-knit, exclusive part of the world. A country so rich in material and mineral wealth that its place in the world was equivalent to a nugget of solid gold in a sack full of much less valuable semi-precious stones. And at present, it was under the unofficial reign of its two most influential and wealthiest citizens; the same two men who had had their reputations thrown up and down during the last few weeks.

The thirst for retribution burned and the sting of its scathing path had now become a reminder for both Murtasim and Omar. A scar or sorts; it hissed and ached and it would continue to do so until they'd levelled the scoreboard. Gotten even. And get even they would.

Carter's mental instability and astronomical debts had been a double-edged sword for the Latvians. He had been carefully vetted and picked because he had been weak and therefore malleable; the perfect Phoenix candidate to coerce into performing a hijack. He had been promised payment of debts and a lump sum of money to grant him a lifetime of freedom. But it hadn't been enough for Kenny. He'd wanted another kind of freedom altogether. What was supposed to have been a strictly non-fatal hijack had turned into a one-man mission of suicide.

Kenny Carter had cried out the truth whilst being subjected to pretty weak interrogation techniques. He had been instructed to injure the pilots just enough to let Sergei take control of the cockpit. The two were then supposed to let Control know that the plane had been hijacked and stay in the air until they were given the AXU order to have the pilots land the plane. The purpose was to cause panic on the ground, get the authorities and news channels involved, and then use the hijack as leverage to make Omar and his father hand over the Latvian immigrants in exchange for a safe landing. The fall of Phoenix Air from its glory had been purpose number two.

Kenny had planned otherwise. Handed out failure after failure in life, and having lost the trust of his family, he was now truly alone; no ties and nothing keeping him sane. It had made him fearless for the first time in his life and he had chosen the ultimate freedom. Death for him and after it, lifelong financial aid and perks for his family courtesy of Phoenix Air's Pension and Life Insurance Scheme. They'd want for nothing and he wouldn't have to be subjected to torture by the muscle sent by the loan sharks on the 28th of every month. It had been the perfect plan; disengage the pilots, deplete the flight and reserve fuel, and then just let the plane fall from sky when fuel finally ran out. Simple and terrifyingly effective.

The investigators were pushing for Carter to be admitted into a mental facility after his trial; that was if he was deemed mentally fit to even stand trial. All they were waiting for was the green signal to relocate the men from the island to their prisons and start trial, and that green signal could only come from Omar and his legal team, being the main contact between the authorities and Phoenix. Or so they thought. In this case, only one man was the decider of the fates of Carter and Ikonovich. It was the captain of the flight they'd hijacked and perhaps more significantly, it was the husband of the woman they had hurt and threatened with assault. And Murtasim Khan's mood was far, far from forgiving right now.

The door to his office slid open, bringing the two men out of their heavy thoughts as the caterer wheeled in a black trolley. Murtasim sometimes wondered why he kept Omar around. The Arab had seemed like a good choice of friend in university; they were from similarly affluent backgrounds, they clicked just right and they'd had a hell of a good time in London together. Those reasons now seemed too flimsy as he watched his friend motion the office caterer to place the appetisers and drinks on the table between them.

The reason of Omar's arrival had actually had nothing to do with investigation. Apparently, the reading of his psych evaluation report was to be turned into a milestone event which had to be commemorated. Food was ordered, drinks selected and the report displayed on the gigantic TV on the back wall of his office, waiting to be 'enjoyed'. Murtasim was mildly unamused but also well versed by his friend's antics by now, and since he also didn't feel like going back to the merger he had been appraising, he was suffering in silence as he watched his friend grin rakishly at him.

The caterer left and in a most strident voice that had Murtasim wanting to call security and have him banned from the premises for today, Omar started reading the evaluation results out loud.

"Right MK, let's see how much help Dr Matthews thinks you need..."

He had barely taken the woman's name when the never-ending, ever-shrill echoes of her "and another thing Captain Khan" rang out in his ears, making him want to change his name, rank and his ears for good. He pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience.

"Your Dr. Matthews says that you-"

"This is the same woman who reviews you too." came the belligerent, almost grumpy response.

"Oh, believe me brother, I never got a report like this."

Popping a dynamite prawn into his mouth, Omar continued, skipping the initial sections containing the identifying information and client history. He paused when he reached the 'Interviewer Impressions' section, frowning as he looked for something before let out an uncharacteristic snicker.

"There it is, my favourite part. A little preview to stoke the excitement, just for you. All I'll say is, I hope you keep your 'panther-like' reflexes to yourself during the reading."

Murtasim's brow jumped.

"Although she should've said lion, in my opinion" Omar murmured under his breath as an afterthought.

Murtasim's sat nonplussed, leaning forward to take a sip of his drink.

"Okay, here we go, and for the record, I also don't agree with the following part." said his very amused friend, his eyes glittering with mirth as if he couldn't believe somebody, that too a healthcare professional could describe the man he had come to know this way.

Captain Khan's disposition was polite and well-mannered and after some probing on my part, was eager to open up and share his life concerns with me, indicating a bond of trust and an easy-going camaraderie that we seemed to have established -

"Who did you scare and send to her?" Omar stopped mid-sentence to look up at him quizzically.

Moreover, Captain Khan seemed to be able to accurately recall and track when all his presenting problems started manifesting (since the crash of the Boeing 747 flight) and showed an acute understanding of what might have brought about the onset of the sleep difficulties that he reported after my in-depth inquiry. Overall, he did demonstrate quite a great deal of psychoeducation about how trauma can affect the brain and one's well-being, including its potential link to PTSD.

"Great deal of psychoeducation...interesting." Omar mused.

In terms of diagnosis, based on my current evaluation, as far as Captain Khan suffering from PTSD is concerned, I would like to report in the negative. That being said, he did indicate that he has specific flashbacks to only one certain instance from the crash; the moment he opened the doors to the hijackers as they held a female under hostage, and that he doesn't fully remember the entire few minutes in which he attacked and severely injured a hijacker. Other than that, there was no indication of him having any symptomology typical of PTSD. That being said, he has mentioned having frequent sleep disruptions and a slightly disturbed routine since.

The initial clinical impression of Captain Khan that I formulated did consist of some conjecture on my part about him having attachment and anger management issues, and narcissistic tendencies. However, these impressions do not merit immediate concern or attention, and neither do they seem to be major impediments to granting him clearance (see details below) to resume his pilot duties. As a bonus, I would like to add (based on my very keen observations) that Captain Khan has impressive, panther-like agility which is quite atypical for a man with a herculean build like his.

Omar choked over dry air, his breath coming out in wheezing gasps. Murtasim curtly reached out and smacked his back a few times, a little more than necessary, until Omar, with suppressed laughter in his eyes, cleared his throat and went back to the damned report.

Overall, I, Dr. Minu Mathews, swear under penalty of perjury that Captain Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan has successfully cleared his psychological evaluation, and is of sound mind and judgement, and mentally, emotionally, and physically fit to resume his aviation duties. As a professional with over a decade of experience, I would strongly recommend a decreased caffeine intake, a healthier working schedule and at least 15 hours of Stress Inoculation Therapy, as well as that Captain Khan inculcate some essential breathing and meditational exercises into his daily routine to be better equipped to deal with his slightly cantankerous propensities that seem to defy the otherwise enigmatic aura that Captain Khan commands.

The 'fit for flight' box underneath the report was ticked, with the doctor's signature signing off on the report, just below it.

There was silence as Omar scrolled back up to the part concerning his 'panther-like' actions, and when it had appeared on the massive tv, put his phone to the side and sat back with a disgustingly content smile on his face.

"What exactly did you do to the good doctor, MK? Yours makes my report look like I'm the one with issues."

Murtasim didn't speak, his mouth chewing but the smugness on his face was betrayed by the contours of his face and the look in his eyes. Leaning over to poke his fork into a stuffed olive, he brought it over to his mouth, leaning back simultaneously. Omar's eyebrows rose as he also popped one in his mouth and spoke.

"There it is, that panther-like agility."

*************

The lift chimed 'L' as Murtasim stepped out onto the lobby of Aspire Tower. Dusk had fallen, the merger had been appraised and Omar had left hours ago. The building was almost empty, with all its crowd eager to get started with their Friday night plans. The doorman saluted as he walked up to the entrance and Murtasim stopped, turning to the man to ask him about his health. The lift chimed behind him again and the sound of heels clicking on the floor echoed, getting closer and then halting a few steps away from.

It was Dr Matthews, and as Murtasim looked at her from across the lobby, she click-clacked closer to the entrance. Murtasim nodded at her in a very unexpected gesture of thanks, one she acknowledged by nodded back. Then giving her one last look, he turned and walked out to valet waiting next to his car.

He didn't have a clue as to how he'd passed that evaluation with flying colours and she was still unaware of why she had found it so easy to overlook his flaws, but it was one consultation she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

The Psychological Evaluation of Employee 0890: Murtasim Shahnawaz Khan

Rank: Senior Captain

Duration of Serving: 7 Years, 2 months

Notable particulars: Black Phoenix

Dr. Minu Matthews prided herself for being one of the very best in her field. After years of experience in the field, as well as in the research arena, she believed there was little she hadn't conquered in the field of psychotherapy. As the common saying went, "those shrinks, man. They really get inside your brain, fiddle with your screws and poke their noses into what aint their business."

Well she believed she was a positive embodiment of that saying. She was eager and happy to take a deep dive into the minds of her clients and really unfurl what was going on. What made people tick, what put them at ease, what prompted some to lose all semblance of rationality; these were questions she was still seeking answers to after more than a decade in the field. The human mind, like they always said, was a fascinating, fascinating phenomenon and Dr. Minu took immense pride in regarding herself as a connoisseur of sorts when it came to people and their psyches.

However, today's client was unlike any other. Captain Murtasim Khan of Phoenix Air was an enigma, a subject of mass speculation and someone she had not been completely privy to. Thanks to her long-standing connections within Doha's elite circles, the occasional whiff of tittle-tattle that usually followed the man was well within her gossip radar, as she had grown accustomed to hearing those occasional whispers of his mysterious association with an unidentified woman the crème de la crème of Qatari society. However, it was after the recent crash of Phoenix's Boeing 747 which had made him the subject of what she liked to call "front-page worthy tabloid gossip."

The man had become a staple subject of hushed, awed whispers at all formal and informal events. From kitty parties with the women of Qatar and England to black-tie dinners, it was impossible to be seated at a table and not have at least one person mention the Phoenix crash. Usually, the topic of the crash would be introduced by a man, and another person, usually a woman would quizzically raise her eyebrows at the mention and with an almost anticipatory, husky whisper, say "oh the plane crash involving Captain Khan?" as if the very enunciation of his name seemed to bring her a jolt of unwarranted pleasure.

Today, as the deliciously legendary captain walked into her office and after a brief customary greeting, took a seat on the plush leather couch in front of her, she raised her eyes, and committed herself to doing a scrupulous head-to-toe scan of the man. His attire screamed privilege and old, old money. It wasn't just in the cut of his three-piece day suit or his slick appearance or the way his face had that truly wealthy grooming and glow. It was the way he carried himself, the way he merged what seemed like rich strokes of culture with the sharp, fresh visage of a modern businessman in today's high-stakes corporate world. An example was the vintage ring on his finger; a rust-orange rectangular stone. It was a whole other vibe from the striking wool Kiton suit moulding his muscular body to perfection. They melded with ease and it made the man sitting in front of her deeply intriguing.

Dr. Minu had always believed that a commanding presence creating an impactful first impression, was fact grounded in reality. However, it was only today that she was a true first-hand witness to that. The very air around this man seemed to crackle with a synergy of suave, classy, polished magnetism, laced with indisputable undercurrents of masculine strength and virility that just drew you in. And she may be a thoroughly professional health practitioner, but she was a woman first.

It was only after Captain Khan had taken his seat across her, crossed one of his widely legs over the other and intertwined his fingers together after resting an elbow on the wide arm rest that she realised that she had subconsciously uncrossed her legs and tucked in a stray strand of hair behind her ear, all in the span of the last ten seconds.

However, chiding herself for momentarily relinquishing her countenance of professionalism, she abruptly picked her iPad up and gave him another once-over; clinical this time. Channelling utmost business-like conduct, she looked at him.

"Before we begin, Captain Khan, I would like to obtain your consent for this session, and notify you that this session is being recorded. Any information revealed throughout the duration of this session is strictly confidential and will not be shared by a third party unless there is any risk of harm to yourself or any third party, including any potential case of child or geriatric abuse. And in the unforeseen circumstances that this information is shared externally, you will be informed as the foremost priority and guided on all ensuing legal proceedings. This information was of course also mentioned in the consent forms you signed beforehand, but it is my duty to reiterate it. You are free to ask any questions you want at any point or stop me if any question is particularly triggering or detrimental to your well-being. Before we proceed, do you have any questions?"

Once she said the words, she stopped with a triumphant, almost child-like eagerness, fully certain that she would see blatant impressive acknowledgement on his face, as he basked in the fact that she was certainly a highly qualified professional, well-versed in her job. However, to her dismay, the only response she was able to extricate from him was a curt nod, and a small forward motion with his right hand, as if urging her to go ahead. As he motioned with his hand, her eye landed on the contours of his fingers, long and slender, joined together with those protruding tendons, all rugged in their tanned masculine glory.

It wasn't until she heard the Captain clear his throat, that she was jolted back to reality. Frantically rubbing her thumb against the back of the Apple pencil to soothe her ragged nerves and chase away her unholy train of thoughts, because God, this man's presence was making her unnerved in a way most unlike her. She smoothed down her knee-length pencil skirt and raising her chin, asked him,

"How are you doing, Captain Khan?"

It was that little curt nod again. "Good, thank you."

She suddenly noticed his voice. She hadn't realised he had those tonally husky vocals, with just a hint of rasping that seemed to be in direct sync with the bobbing of his Adam's apple. It sent waves of nervous energy down her entire frame and she crossed her legs again.

"And how have you been coping since the unfortunate hijacking and crash, Captain Khan?"

"Quite well." came the nonchalant reply.

She sighed. This would be a long day.

"I shall get straight to the point, Captain Khan. How have you been dealing with the aftermath of such a traumatising incident?

"As well as one can," came another short reply, his body language relaxed and his face serious.

Murtasim Khan was a man of few words and of even less patience. And right now the woman in front of him was testing every ounce of it. The crash was the crash; he'd made his peace with what had happened during and after it. It had been a cataclysmic life event, and not just because of the physical strain it had inflicted. It had quite literally shaken the boundaries of his life and his marriage, and after giving him one sweet taste of heaven in its aftermath, had left him painfully, desperately famished. And right now, it was something he did not wish to recollect; certainly not at the behest of a paid "professional".

After all, what could this woman and her words do for him that would be oh-so healing from all the baggage that he carried from the crash? Or perhaps if she truly possessed those mind-sorcerer type abilities that she seemed to carry an entitled air of, would she magically peek into his mind, appraise the turmoil that brewed within when it came to one specific, strawberry loving, brown-haired enchantress, and concoct some magical solution to get him what he wanted? Unless she could do any of that, and he doubted that she could, for Murtasim, this represented nothing more than a time wasting and unfortunately mandatory detour.

All his life, his affluence and general affiliation in the highest echelons of society meant that he never had to keep up with pretences. He had, simply speaking, never been subject to a situation where faking pleasantries were required from him. If he didn't like something, he didn't give it any time; it was very simple.

It was therefore, by this point in his life, quite an arduous task; even more so when the person supposed to deem him fit for flight seemed like she wanted to see through his dress shirt rather than through his mind. It hadn't been lost on him how her eyes had widened the tiniest bit when he had entered, or the constant dilation of her pupils when he spoke, or the way her head would tilt by exactly half an inch every time he swallowed or gulped. Murtasim knew that look, that gaze. You did not reach your early thirties in his position without being able to suss out that specific look without even looking at the woman giving it. It was all too predictable.

By now, the good doctor was in quite a harrowed state of mind. Judging from Captain Khan's expressions and enthusiasm, it had become obvious that this was the last place on planet Earth he wanted to be in right now. The light bites on her Apple pencil had now turned into full-blown chewing, yet it was doing little to deter the anxiety the man sitting across her was eliciting within her, and not just because of his unhelpful responses.

It was time for a change of tactic. Deciding that this brusque, interrogative line of questioning was probably counterproductive, she decided to adopt a more "malleable" approach, wherein she would present her disposition as more of an "easy going, comforting mental health counsellor" and, as an afterthought decided that rather than actively resisting the allure of this man, she would wholeheartedly embrace it. Ethical guidelines be damned. He certainly seemed like he could handle female attention without batting an eyelid.

Painting a small pensive smile across her features, she casually leaned forward towards him; as closely as she could without falling off her chair, that was.

"Captain Khan, how have you been progressing in your everyday life since the hijack and crash?" she began, stopping abruptly, realising the way she had phrased the question was way too formal.

"As in, how's your appetite? Are you eating like you normally do? And your sleep and sex drive; any disturbances with that?" she asked more mildly, adding on the last point much earlier than she usually did, in a bid to amalgamate sex with sleep as if they were both the same biological phenomenon, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But this man would even notice things happening behind him. She could've sworn that if the word 'exasperated' could ever be visually represented by one's visage, it would undoubtedly be of the man sitting across from her. Nervous energy had her thighs tightening, however, the ever-elusive Captain seemed to be unaffected by what she was sure was a visible realisation of her own incompetence displaying itself across her features.

"My appetite is as per usual..." Murtasim began and then he trailed off for a few seconds. There was no way in hell a clinician was going to be told about the woman who captivated every dreamlike haze that engulfed his mind. From stolen moments of wakefulness during the day wherein he would catch himself daydreaming about her all too often, to the delirium that plagued him when he was stuck in limbo between chaotic moments of sleep and empty moments of conscious awareness that basically comprised of his every night since that one night. How could words ever do justice to this tempest that raged within? That and the fact that he was sure admitting the truth would have him chained to the desk by the over-enthusiastic psychologist in a bid to conduct an x-ray of his brain.

"Sleep disturbances, Captain Khan?" she prompted.

"Hmm." he responded in one single, firm, grunt. She didn't miss the slight, tense pause before his answer. Neither did his blatant disregard of her question about his sex drive escape her notice.

Dr. Minu's mouth tasted weird with all the pencil biting by now. Evidently, this new approach of malleability was not working. That and the fact that she was sure she would soon bite the shiny coating off the pencil soon. She also felt the last vestiges of her self-control and composed demeanour ebbing away. This infuriatingly handsome man had given her absolutely zero information, and she knew that if she were to report anything back to the Qatari aviation authorities, she needed some meaty bits of information to ascertain his mental health status, or her irrefutable reputation would be marred.

And so she decided to show her Ace and take a gamble.

"Captain Khan, we've been here for almost thirty minutes and I am yet to get a response from you that is more than one monosyllabic grunt. I have a job to perform, and you have the obligation to display the integrity worthy of your rank. However, to me, your reluctance to respond to any questions pertaining to that incident and its aftermath seems to imply that perhaps there is something more than just yourself and your licence renewal at stake here."

She knew she was crossing dangerous terrain now, and any wise person would have stopped and not ventured further. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared just a touch and his jaw sharpened; all almost imperceptible and yet his entire face and the air around him had changed suddenly. However, this man was far too gorgeous and far too infuriating for his own good, and if the latest grapevine surrounding him held any authenticity, well, then, she was done being patient with him. She had heard whispers, and now she was going to deliver them full, clearly spoken sentences.

A tiny, measly voice, the same one as before, popped up again, whispering in that same high-pitched tone.

Is this in the line of duty or do you actually just want to find out if the rumours of him romancing a mystery woman around Doha are true?

He pinned his eyes to hers and brought her out of her reverie.

"I would be careful if I were you Doctor, because that sounded a little too much like a threat. And I don't respond well to those."

Ah, there it was. That smooth as silk, low, husky voice, tainted with the subtlest hints of the roughness that lurked right underneath the surface, just waiting to materialise to the top, unveiling Murtasim Khan at his most primal level. Narrowing her eyes at his own ironically threatening retort, and disguising her nervous gulp by chugging down the remnants of her water, she decided to switch gears. Again.

It was at that moment that a common saying reverberated in her head. What had they always said? That some of the greatest, most irrational, extreme actions taken by men eventually came down to the following three reasons: land, wealth and women. And if she went by the whispers and what she had heard in the black box's cockpit voice recording, then a certain young woman being held hostage and threatened with assault, someone whom the hijackers had addressed as 'his woman' and him as her boyfriend, had proven to be Captain Khan's ultimate and calamitous undoing; that one final catalyst that had culminated in him breaking the most sacred protocol, and opening the cockpit door to potentially allow hostile parties access to the plane's controls.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was a possible romantic entanglement between them, and based on her grapevine network comprising of Doha elites, as well as skimming through the list of names of the flight attendants on duty on that fateful flight, it had not taken her long to put two and two together and realise that Captain Murtasim Khan, for all his ironclad infallibilities, was in fact, like any other mortal man.

A tale as old as time, a mere woman had been the cause of his disarmament; his ultimate surrender. The way it had been since the dawn of time, bringing powerful men to their knees; princes and paupers alike. And that undoing happened to be a certain air hostess named Meerab Ahmed.

It seemed too predictable to be real. Air hostesses and pilots; a trope as old as the first plane to take flight. Add a Captain's rank into the mix, and one who practically owned the world and had a Black Phoenix next to his name, it was the modern-day aviation equivalent of Cinderella.

Interesting.

Despite the already challenging consultation, the tricky part was now. Getting him to open up about her; if there was even a her in his life.

"Not a threat at all, Captain. Just a segue. I'd like to address your reaction to one of the hijackers. As heard on the cockpit voice recordings and stated in the debriefing documents of your colleagues, you 'repeatedly punched the flight engineer in the face until there was cracking sounds and blood everywhere.'"

She paused after reading the account, flitting her eyes to him. He sat stoic and his eyes, unnervingly and unflinchingly, were pinned on her. He was either made of steel, totally indifferent or just wasn't scared about the consequences of violence in the slightest. Maybe all of the above; it was what she needed to find out. Knowing full well she would not be getting an answer, she continued.

"The medical report for the engineer states that he suffered from severe maxillofacial trauma. A broken nose, with the bone shattered almost beyond repair, a broken jaw, heavy fractures around the eye sockets that resulted in sunken eyeballs and countless lacerations."

She took a breath to pause.

"He also had a cerebrospinal fluid leak, needed facial reconstruction surgery which could only restore a small percentage of his original features and function, and will have trouble breathing for the rest of his life." she finished.

Silence.

He sat relaxed in his chair, his still elbow perched on the side and his hand now held up and his index finger skimming up and down his top lip, so so congruous with that buttery, silken persona; as if he was not single-handedly responsible for the horrifying details she'd just shared.

"That's quite the reaction, Captain. Can you talk to me about it? Tell me why you reacted in such a way?" she prompted.

His reply was instant and as smooth as butter.

"It was a physical altercation. That usually implies one or both parties will be injured. He was injured."

"It was unprovoked, he was defenceless and he didn't retaliate. And I didnt take you for a man who attacked defenceless men."

It was the wrong thing to say. She knew that as soon as the second 'defenceless' left her mouth.

He leaned forward so slowly, his lithe frame smoothly straightening and suddenly, the wide, expansive table seemed too flimsy a barrier in the face of the palpable intimidation and restrained anger emanating from him.

This was it; it was him. This was the man who had sent another man to the brink of death and could have just as easily sent him over the edge; a glimpse of him anyway.

"Have you ever flown a plane, Doctor?" he asked, calm. Eerily calm.

"No, I can't say that I have, Captain." she responded.

"Have you ever been responsible for another person? Responsible for their ultimate safety, to get them home alive and ideally in one piece?"

His voice was low and smooth. Its usual rough rumble was absent and it sounded nonchalant almost. It made him even scarier.

"Yes, I have. In the normal sense, that is. My family members." she answered, her tone open, inviting what she hoped was finally more than a monosyllabic grunt, even though her entire body whispered to tread with caution.

"Now multiply that with one hundred and thirty-seven and place the ultimate responsibility of whatever happens on this little adventure of yours on your shoulders."

His finger continued to skim up and down his Cupid's bow.

"Then add in the fact that you've been smashed in the head with a solid metal rod and attacked behind your back. Your entire adventure is now threatened because you can't lift your head without blacking out, putting everyone at fatal risk; all hundred and thirty-seven lives, plus your own."

She opened her mouth to calmly intervene, sensing that things were going to heat up. Her words never had a chance.

"That fatal risk came from two men, and both of those men had put their name down for every single hit I gave them the second they stepped onto my plane with the intent to hijack."

She watched him, blinking and taking a gulp as his eyes drummed that reality into her. She cleared her throat and dragged her mind back to the line of questioning.

"So you do not think you overreacted and displayed a worrying amount of rage?"

"I think I should have let their unconscious bodies sink to the bottom of the sea to die a slow, painful death."

Only the sound of her breathing could be heard, indented periodically by the dull chime of the lift opening and closing outside. The scenario he had described was terrifying and she knew she couldn't even begin to understand the catastrophic events which had occurred in the cockpit of Flight PX505. The reports, crew debriefs and cockpit voice recordings all portrayed an impossibly chaotic and dangerous situation, and she still was in awe that there had been no casualties.

And yet her mind couldn't stopping drifting to his reaction and the whispers she had heard. It had sounded like pure, unadulterated rage on the tapes; like he would very readily tear down the entire plane, piece by piece, just to get to her. It was the same when he'd roared at the other hijacker who supposedly had been keeping the air hostess hostage, and his last sentence just now. None of it sounded like him; like an aloof, seemingly emotionally distant captain concerned about a passenger or crew member under his care. It was too raw, too visceral; too passionate to be anything but passion. Her eyes darted to his and she measured the words in her mind before vocalising them.

"I understand how you may have felt, Captain. The safety of your passengers was at the forefront of your mind; as it should be. Do you believe this intense concern for passenger safety was the driving force behind your actions...and reactions?"

Murtasim knew exactly where the conversation was heading the second she had finished the sentence. He had gotten every single passenger and crew member under his care to complete safety. He had taken on injuries enough to kill a weaker man and he had let the scum who had hijacked his plane live, at least for now. He was being hailed a hero left, right and centre and yet everyone who had heard the cockpit recording tapes had one question. Every single person, including the psychologist looking at him in question right now. She just wasn't asking him directly. Too bad. As much as he was disliking sitting through this tedious consultation, he disliked beating around the bush more.

"What do you think, Doctor?" he asked smoothly.

Her brows rose.

"I-that's what I'm trying to get an idea of Captain Khan."

"Well then, how about you ask me what you've wanted to ask me ever since I walked into your office."

She blinked.

"After what seems like a hostage situation, you made a questionable decision which you very well knew broke protocol. I'd like to know why, please." she asked finally.

He leaned back in his chair, his frame somewhat unfurling after its tightly coiled tension at the subject of the hijackers. You never knew with this man though; unpredictable didn't even begin to describe him.

"The 'questionable' decision to open the cockpit door." he confirmed.

"I'm afraid so."

"Everything I did, I did in the line of duty. That is all I have to say on this 'questionable' decision."

She swallowed and exhaled through her nose. His poker face was exceptional, but her gut was telling her to pursue this further; that this wasn't a dead end.

"I am not here to judge or interrogate, Captain Khan. This is the most important piece of information you need to remember. That, and the fact that anything we discuss today and in every consultation is confidential. I am bound by law and my own oath to not disclose it to anyone, unless it involves intent to harm or anything criminal; a problem which I dont think I'm going to have here."

He watched her, silent and speculative.

"I actually think it's human. In fact, it'll be the most human thing I will have known you to do in all the-" she glanced at the clock behind him. "Forty-one minutes I've known you."

She might as well be straight with him now. Their hour was nearly up and she needed an answer to that one question. It would put all his actions, all his rage and that one decision in a new perspective; one she could work with. The slight narrowing of her eyes told her he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"The Phoenix Air Pilot's Handbook and all training manuals state explicitly that keeping the cockpit door closed is rule number one during any hijacking. Of course, there are exceptions and therefore Phoenix also gives the ultimate authority for all decisions during an in-flight emergency to the Captain. Captain's discretion is the law and not to be questioned in almost any circumstance."

"I am well aware of what the Pilot's Handbook states. I am also aware that you seem to think you are aware of why I opened that cockpit door."

"Why did you do it, Captain? What kind of 'line of duty' could possibly drive you to such destruction and risk your pilot's licence and reputation?" she asked, unable to hide the smatters of exasperation behind her question.

He took a breath, causal as hell, as he rested both elbows on the sides of the chair and linked his fingers just underneath his chin.

"The kind which couldn't allow me to let a woman I care about be hurt and put in danger. How the hell this affects my 'fit for flight' status is what I'd like to know."

Hallelujah! Sweet, sweet success. At long last. Her gut had been right. This man, who wasn't scared of the consequences of a potentially career-destroying decision, or anything for that matter, had not been able to bear the thought of something happening to a woman. A woman he cared about, but just a woman nonetheless. They said right; the greatest of men, the wildest of decisions and the surrender to a woman; it was the proven trifecta.

"It affects my perception of your decisions, my judgement of your ability to care, feel and empathise, and it finally, finally gives me a solid reason for you opening that cockpit door against the verbal and physical protestations of your first officer and the pilot's Code of Conduct, knowing full well you may be giving up the one thing which stood between a safe landing and certain death; control of your plane. It gives me a reason for you nearly killing a man with your bare hands and while your reactions still display a need for some management in my opinion, I now know, they in no way hinder your ability to fly planes safely."

She paused, letting out a deep, relieved beath. It felt strangely like a triumph.

"You're not unstable or a threat to others around you. You are in fact, a man who is willing to burn the world for a woman he cares about. As a healthcare practitioner, it makes your actions understandable, and as a woman, it makes them totally insane yet somehow totally justified. Enviable even."

She let the last sentence slip in, the high from finally having gotten inside this man's head allowing her to be franker than she ever would be with a client. And was it possible to be jealous of someone you didn't even know and had never seen? And jealous for someone you had met an hour ago and someone who wasn't a part of your life in any way? She was going to need to study herself after this consultation because this man had somehow managed to send ripples through her entire composure.

"Do you regret breaking protocol, Captain? Knowing that you could have endangered the lives of all on-board?"

"No and no." was the succinct answer.

"No, you don't regret endangering their lives?"

That didn't sound like the man she had just evaluated.

"No, I don't believe I endangered the lives of all on-board any more than they already had been. I was always going to get control of the cockpit back after opening the door because I knew the actual purpose of the hijack wasn't a fatal crash. The engineer had about three hours alone to kill us all and he did nothing. His accomplice looked terrified enough at the mention of no fuel that he probably would have handed me the controls himself had I not knocked him unconscious."

She moved her eyes down and typed swiftly on the iPad as each succinctly stated word was fresh in her mind.

"You know what I'm going to ask next, Captain."

She raised her brows.

"No, I don't regret it. Yes, I would do it again." There wasn't a sliver of uncertainty in his voice.

Whoever this Ms. Meerab Waqas Ahmed was, she was God's favourite child. She had to be to get this in life.

The next ten minutes had her tying up loose ends and it consisted of her speaking and him watching her silently, as he had done for ninety-five percent of their hour together. She didn't know if it was the knowledge of the lengths that he was willing to go for a woman, but if he was undeniably gorgeous before, he was now irresistible. It made keeping her train of thought a task, and she would begin wrapping up the session only to realise that she had more points to add.

By the time he had left, after dropping his parting shot about that very inability to commit to her claim of 'one last thing', all she wanted a relaxing hot bath, a glass of wine for her nerves and a massage.

Saturday

A December Eve

The Mandarin Oriental Savoy, Zurich, Switzerland

The bright chandeliers shone, the warm air surrounded everything in a scent which was so 'Christmas' it made you giddy and the crisp cold outside made you to stand and just breathe it in. Meerab had landed late last night and Zurich had sucked her in with its exciting blend of urban and vintage. The flight route this time allowed her to have three days here and she was blissfully flight free for two of them. Barring a training session on the last morning, she had all the time in the world to see Zurich in the winter. It was all her early 1990 Bollywood dreams come true.

She rubbed her hands together and unzipped her black fur coat as she walked into the hotel lobby. The walk around the stadt had been magical, and made more magical with the place being lit up for Christmas and New Year.

"Miss Ahmed!"

Meerab stopped mid-stride, smiling to the concierge who she had been speaking to before leaving for her walk.

"Yes?"

He looked around on the shelf beneath the counter as she walked over to him, pulling her hair out its top knot and ruffling it out.

"Eh, something has arrived for you Miss. It was delivered by a courier shortly after you left for your stroll."

Meerab blinked, extending her hand towards the little black box. It was thick, heavy card, embossed with a subtle, decorative pattern and held together by a black silk ribbon. It was tiny; a square only slightly bigger than her hand. The ribbon unravelled and she plucked the lid off, frowning as only a single, black card lay inside.

Meerab picked it up and underneath it lay a black suede base. Her confusion thickened even as her mind flitted to the one man who could send her such a thing. He had done it once before. But he wasn't supposed to be in Zurich right now; theirs was the only Phoenix flight here for three days, and he hadn't been the captain of hers. Plus, Leena had said he and Omar were away on business. Juggling the box and lid in one hand, she flicked open the card.

The lobby entrance. Quarter to seven.

There was also only one man she knew who would actually spell out 'quarter to seven' instead of just writing 6.45pm, but that thought was pushed way back as the flutters in her tummy had it tightening. She knew even before she had turned the card over what she'd find on the back.

From The Office of Murtasim Khan

She hadn't seen him for three days; ever since he'd driven her from The GrapeVine back to the hotel.

'If you need it, then you have it.'

Caging her between his body and the snooker table, his arms on either side of her, he'd spoken the exact same words he'd said to her at his Karachi apartment the night before their nikkah. The only difference was that he'd been livid, his anger on a leash so tightly gripped when he'd first said them in Karachi. He hadn't been angry in Doha; he'd been speculative, measured and totally calm; his words caressing her face with his warm breath.

The only conversation they'd had after that had been in his car. Meerab wasn't used to feeling awkward around Murtasim: energetic, angry, annoyed, incredulous, curious, yes, but never awkward. Not even after their night. But that thirty-minute car ride had her feeling weird; like you'd wanted something, had been undecided and then had demanded something else with it, almost expecting the answer to the strange request to be no. But it hadn't been.

'If you need it, then you have it.'

So, her brain had had her do what she normally did in awkward situations; she had started to babble.

"Tumharay paas kitni aisi Mercerdes hain?"

The answer had been quick look in her direction and then a low 'a few'. A nice answer with the blessed potential to nicely end the random conversation. But of course, Meerab had talked some more until he had had to think long and hard, counting all the countries he currently kept a Mercedes in. The answer had been twelve, and her dedicated interrogation had also revealed that four of those were in Pakistan. She'd then delved deeper as to why he preferred the same car everywhere he was; a line of questioning which had been answered by herself with a 'maybe you have a type'. He'd looked at her again, longer this time with that one expression on his face which was so unreadable but so Murtasim. She didn't know exactly what it meant, but she knew enough to know he was enjoying her yapping.

The conversation had tapered off until Meerab had seen a car glide up next to them on the highway. They'd been going too fast for her to see its particulars, but she'd seen in enough in the past days to know she really, really liked it. And so, she'd told him. Her finger pointing to it through her passenger window, she'd waxed lyrical about how majestic it looked on the road, and how after his black Mercedes, it was one of the very few cars which had grabbed her attention; a feat considering her only interest in cars was that they prevented her from having to walk to places. Her curiosity had had her looking up the car later on. It had apparently been a black Bentley Continental GT; gorgeous and with an unmistakable road presence.

Then they'd arrived at the hotel, he'd taken her to her room, unlocked her door and seen her inside, all in silence; silence so thick even Meerab and her usually helpful gift of gab hadn't been to break. He hadn't touched her at all, and weirdly enough, that had made her feel weird.

That weird feeling was back as she read his note again. Her eyes flitted to the many clocks on display behind the concierge's desk and as they landed on the biggest one, she startled.

6.42pm

Her head swivelled around to the entrance and then back to the clock, before looking down herself. She looked down at her black top, black jeans, black fur coat, tall black Uggs and the girly-girl in her screamed to run up to her floor, throw on a dress, heels, some mascara, lip tint and run a brush through her hair; anything to make it look less like her first date was going to be at a bowling alley with a slice of pizza and a can of Vimto as dinner afterwards. Each to their own, but her husband didn't seem the pizza and can of Vimto type.

Her husband. She was going on a date with her husband. Murtasim...her husband. And her first date-date ever.

Unfortunately, nothing had ever won in the face of Meerab's curiosity, and so the girly-girl was mercilessly shushed as she stuffed the box into her pocket and headed towards the entrance, the flutters intensifying with every step.

Until they stopped. On the top step of the spacious entrance doors, she looked out at the driveway at the foot of the steps and then past it onto the lush front lawn. Her brow furrowed and she pulled her phone out.

6.43pm

His car wasn't anywhere in sight, and the man really needed to be educated about courtship ethics if he was going to make her walk all the way to the car park. She looked down at her phone.

6.44pm

She craned her neck to look past the tall trees planted on all sides of the driveway, her eyes clashing with the confused doorman, who she sent a quick smile to. Frowning, she unlocked her phone, went into her contacts and scrolled until she came across one she hadn't used in ages. Taking a deep breath, her thumb clicked the fire emoji and then it was ringing.

Suddenly, the muffled ringing sound of a car's phone system rang out and frowning, Meerab looked at the single black car parked in the driveway, right in front of the steps. It wasn't his. Shaking her head, she looked away, waiting for her date to pick up.

The ringing stopped: both in her ear and from the car. There was a pause in her ear.

"Good evening, wife." sounded in her ear.

It crashed into her; his deep voice, so intrinsically rough but delivered so smoothly. Meerab could only let it wash over her for a second. The car door opened, distracting her. And then as she watched absentmindedly, a body unfolded out of the car and Meerab could recognise that distinctive side profile from a thousand others.

Her heart in her throat, she watched as her husband crossed the still-open car door, rounded the car and came to stand against the passenger side door, leaning back with one hand holding a phone to his ear.

"Shall we begin this courtship of ours?" his husky voice came, both in her ear and from across the steps.

She blinked, her forehead creasing gently as she looked behind him, her eyes widening as realisation finally hit. Her husband stood in all black casual at the bottom of the steps, ready to pick her up for their first date, looking like the most devilish fantasy one could ever have, leaning against a black car.

A gleaming black Bentley Continental GT.

Hello my dear readers. Happy MeerAsim reading <3

Firstly, thank you so much for your patience. I have had a change of location in the last week and as a result, I've felt like a lazy blob all week. It was much needed but it meant that HkP was put on the back burner.

This chapter is more informative than anything, with the truth of the hijack and crash revealed and diving a little into MK's mind with the psych evaluation. That leads me to the most important thing about today's update. A massive, special thank you to Fajr aka dory234 (Wattpad)! I reached out to Fajr for help with the psychologist aspect of this chapter, as she is well versed in this area, and was only expecting a few bullet points. Instead, Fajr provided for me almost the entire evaluation report and Dr Matthews' recollection of the consultation! I'm truly so thankful and I hope you all enjoy our collaborated efforts <3

Lastly, the courtship begins now :D Any guesses for what Meerab and the Captain's first date will be?

Till next time, D xo