The Hurricane
Chapter Two – Time's Ticking

Summary: "He's got the way of the hurricane." / In which Austin is the delinquent bad boy, and Ally is the only girl determined enough to figure him out. And he lets her – only at the promise that she lets him protect her.

Prompt: Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler and Spiral.

Disclaimer: Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the girl that owns this show? Of course, it's not me.

School trips are fun, they say. But I would much rather prefer staying under the confines of our classroom, writing away on this new case – as I like to call it, the Austin Moon case – I have yet to crack. But, according to the recent research I've done on Austin Moon, this might actually be a good chance to start chipping away with the mystery behind him.

You see, I have this book. It's my journal, my diary, my song book, and information book all rolled into one. As a journalist, my nose has been sticking around, sniffing for gossip and dirt that I could use for my articles. Teachers don't really approve, but they don't complain either. The only people ever having a problem with the things I write, are the victims of my honesty. But, not further straying away from the topic, this book of mine holds everything I know about everyone.

Our school is small, and so is our town. This means it's never too hard for me to know everything and anything about the lives of the people living here. And if any new information comes up, down on the book it goes.

Suffice to say, Austin Moon actually was my least favorite subject to research on. I always thought the rumors about the things he's done and said were all true – after all, he never did deny them – and that they were enough. That's why, it surprises me, the amount of information I found lacking last night when I tried to dig up more dirt on him.

Both his parents are dead. He lives in a small apartment complex by himself. And his brother, the ex top investigator in our local police station, has been missing for the past two years now. His grades are also very high, although everyone in school thought he was failing all his classes. And he's an expert in cooking and household chores – something very surprising from someone like him.

But there's one thing about him that really intrigued me. He loves music – just like me. He apparently can play any instruments, and his voice is described as "unreal like the calling voice of an angel at heaven's gates" – research's words, not mine. He wishes to go to Julliard in NYC, but he won't. Why though; that's the one thing I can't seem to figure out.

So I'm taking this school trip as a chance to check on him a little bit more. Because we're going to a live audition for the Miami Arts: School of Theatre and Performance. And I want to see how he reacts to the place around him, what he'll do, or if he even bothers to show up. Honestly, I'm kind of stoked to try and figure him out.

xoxo

"Seat taken?" A very familiar voice asks from behind me. And before I could even respond, he settles himself down anyway on the seat beside me.

"You know, the polite way of doing that is to wait for my response." I say, rolling my eyes. He just smugly grins at me.

"Silly girl." He lets out a soft chuckle, and I watch him carefully from the corner of my eye, as I write away on my book.

"I have a name." I mutter under my breath, causing another small laugh from him. What is with this guy? One day he's dead set pissed, and now he's acting like such a child.

"Yeah? Sorry I didn't quite catch it." He smirks at me, eyes glistening in mischief, and I had to hold back a growl.

"Weren't you the one who claimed you knew my name and my work?" My eyebrows raised and I finally took my focus off of writing on my book. It seems better, more entertaining, to talk away to him and his banter.

"Yeah, I lied. I just needed you to shut up." He shrugs, and I don't know whether to believe him or not. The way he said it, so casual and natural, it made it seem like he's telling the sincere and honest truth. But, then again, he may just be a brilliant actor.

I don't respond. Instead, I let the silence take over us. But this silence is different. It's not the kind of silence where you're uncomfortable, and you feel words left unsaid still lingering at the tip of your tongue. But it's also not the kind that would make you thankful for it either. It's that type of silence that lay between being unsure, and totally sure. Where you kind of want to say something, but it's better if you don't.

"Ethan Rutherford is said to make an appearance." Austin whispers into my ear, breaking the ice, and snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What about it?" My voice came out rasped and croaky, but I don't think he seemed to mind.

"He's someone you should keep an eye on." His voice is hushed, and my eyes widened at the statement. "I know what you're trying to do. You don't want to prove my innocence – you want a story. You want something to write about, and tell people about."

Almost a bull's-eye. Almost.

"But that's where you're wrong. I'm not as innocent as you think I am. I may not be a murderer, but I sure have a big damn part to play in this. And let me tell you, Diane's death? That's only a first. If you don't keep your eyes fucking open, you'll be next on their list." It's all too much to take in, the things he's saying. And I try to comment on it, but my voice has betrayed me. "When I asked you to let me protect you, I granted you access to knowing, and finding out everything. But that doesn't mean everyone else is willing for you to find out."

"What are you talking about?" I finally have the guts to say, my voice small – like a child against their biggest fear. I turn to look him in the eye, and I see the whiskey color in them start to swirl.

"I'm just another victim in the charades these guys play, just like you. The only difference between us is, this has everything to do with me." He looks me dead in the eye, and I barely notice the grip he has on my wrist. Since when did he take a hold of it anyway?

"Austin I—"

"The only reason I'm letting you in is because, I need you." He finally lets go of my wrist and jerks it away from him before standing up. I stay there seated, mouth agape, eyes wide, and head spinning with so much unanswered questions. Exactly what just happened here?

I didn't even notice our bus has completely stopped, until everyone has all gone into the coliseum. Hastily, I stood up, hearing our teacher call for me to go outside. I was still feeling dazed, and still slightly confused. And there was only one thing replaying on my mind.

"I need you."

xoxo

I tried to look for Austin inside the massive theatre, but he was nowhere to be found. So by the time the show was about to start, I gave up and sat myself down on the nearest seat I could find.

The seat happened to be right at the very front row. And I can clearly see from here, those massive and thick red curtains, the bright orange lights shining down on the stage, and the glossy floor that the performers will stand on. For some reason, the sight captivated me.

And for the rest of those two hours, I watched as auditionees come and go, failing and succeeding. They came to sing, play the piano, or play the guitar, trying their best, only to be rejected. It was a pain to watch, and I wonder, if this is why Austin doesn't try for Julliard – is he afraid of failing?

It's almost like me and my stagefright. I can't cope with the thought of failing, and everyone being disappointed in me. It scares me. And that's why, I don't do anything to try and pursue my dream. That's why I hide behind the mask of my words and the comfort of the lyrics I write. But, it's not good enough – it's never good enough.

I want to perform, and sing in front of people, and have them cheer for me. Songwriters don't get their names on big screens and posters – only the singers do.

My thoughts are interrupted when I see a familiar figure grace the stage. It's one where I've seen up in my tv screen five million times already. That same elegant brown hair, styled in a very neat fashion, and those slim hands and long fingers, famous for playing the world's best kind of music. Everyone knows this guy's name – and according to Austin, I should know more than that.

Ethan Rutherford(1) takes his place on the piano bench, gently running his slick and pale fingers over the keys. A very formal smile stays curved on his lips, and his eyes are closed as he begins to play an all too familiar tune.

I've heard this piece before. He plays it an awful lot at all his concerts. Everyone knows the story behind it.

The piece is called Bénédiction de Dieu dans la Solitude(2), a piece so oddly sad and downing, but very much hypnotizing and inspiring. The meaning behind it is hard to convey – and I would know because, being a huge fan of classical music myself, I've tried to understand what the melody is trying to say. But I think to Rutherford, it represents a loss of friendship, or an unrequited romance. Because something about the way he plays it, makes me feel so—

"Attention to everyone in the theatre." A voice from the intercom interrupts my thoughts, and my eyes dart up to look at the annoyed face of Rutherford. "We will need you to vacate the area immediately."

"What?!"

"No way!"

"Why?!"

People begin to complain and panic. And I can feel my own heart beating fast in anxiety. My hands are clammy with sweat, trembling in fear.

"There has been a bomb found underneath one of the back seats of the theatre. It is due to set off in twenty-five(3) minutes." That sentence, booming loud and clear across the whole theatre, set panic into everyone.

People started to scream and run, heading towards the exit. And I stood there frozen, still shocked from all that has happened. It's just, I found that there's something amiss about that announcement. It was too informative, and very much less urgent. And also, I can hear the clear static clashing with the announcer's voice. Almost like, it was played through a recorder, not through a live mic.

But common sense suddenly knocked into me, and I begin to wonder, why I'm just standing here, taking this all in, rather than being a normal sensible person who's running for her life out of the building. I don't even know what's wrong with me.

But suddenly, a calloused hand held my wrist in a tight grip, startling me. And relief rushed into my whole entire body as I came face to face with my holder.

Austin Moon stood there, blonde hair a crazy mess, and his eyes are flashing in concern. He's saying something, I know he is – because his lips are moving – but I hear nothing. I'm deaf to what he's trying to tell me, and all I'm doing is standing there, staring at him with wide eyes.

"ALLY, are you fucking listening to me?" I hear him say – finally. But I still couldn't move anything, not even my mouth to speak, or my neck to nod my head. "Jesus fucking Christ you stupid girl."

He yanks me towards the exit, and for the first time since I heard about the bomb scare, I notice we're the only ones left. So I picked up my pace, trying to catch up to him and his athletic speed. The doors out of this hellhole come closer to us, and I almost shout for joy. But, as luck would have it, it's been slammed shut right before we could even get through it.

Austin stops, pulling me back before I ran straight into the door, and then he curses. His features are twisted into a mix of worry and panic, and a little bit of annoyance. He grips my wrist tight, and somehow, I'm starting to get used to the warmth his hold has on me. He's sweating and panting, and I am too. And I know exactly what he's thinking.

"They want us." He says, breathing heavily. I nod my head, still unable to speak. I clutch my shirt, trying to keep my eyes from watering. "Dammit."

Music plays through the intercom, and we both look up, as if asking for answers from the wooden ceiling above us. I walk closer to Austin, and he holds my wrist tighter than ever – if that's even possible. And once the music stops, the voice from the intercom comes back with an eerie tone to match.

"Hello, Austin Monica Moon." The voice says, and I try not to get my curiosity get the better of me as I hold back on asking Austin about the 'Monica' part in his name.

"Shut up!" Austin yells back to no one in particular. And I swallowed hard, trying not to let fear take over me.

"It's been awhile." The intercom speaks again. "Your brother has told me so many things about you."

"What the hell do you know about that fucking bastard?!" Austin pulls me behind him, as I instinctively clutched the back of his shirt, closing my eyes, and just listening to the conversation going on around me.

"A lot." And with that, the intercom turns off.

But the ringing of Austin's phone could be heard right after those final words. And hesitantly, he picks it up, growling a "hello" into it. I can't hear what they're saying, but I feel Austin's muscles tense as I hold onto him, and I can't help but feel worried.

They stay on the phone for a couple of minutes, and I check the watch on my wrist to see only seventeen minutes left before the bomb ticks off. Panic dawns on me once again, and I start to shake Austin in fear.

"Austin, we have to get out of here! There's no more time!" I tell him in desperation, but he just shrugs my hands off his back. I try once again but his actions after only surprised me.

He throws his phone onto the ground, smashing it to pieces. He then stalks off to the very back of the theatre, where endless rows of chairs lined up. I follow after him, questions still storming all over my head. And I can't help but let a small whimper out as I realize, this could be the end for both of us.

"Ally." He suddenly turns to me, an unreadable expression written across his face. I try to speak but he beats me to it. "Give me your phone."

"Wha—what?" I gasped, taking a step back.

"I told you I'll protect you, and this is me protecting you." He's breathing deeply, and his face contorts nonchalance. "If you want to get out of here, give it to me."

Still unsure, I obediently handed him my beloved flip phone. He takes it with a thankful look on his face, before mouthing a small sorry. I was about to ask what the hell does he mean by that, but he throws my phone to the ground, smashing it to bits like what he did to his own. My mouth opens wide in aghast.

I wanted to say something, and I wanted to tell him off. But sudden realization came to me as I understood what he was trying to do. The bomb is sensitive to radiation, meaning, any trace of radiation within a short radius of it could trigger it to go off. My phone, his phone, they're both easy sources of radiation. Therefore, he destroyed them to stop the possibility of it triggering the bomb before explosion time.

I almost cheer at him before he speaks again. "I need you to go backstage and find another way out of this damned theatre."

"What?" I feel so small, so clueless, as he tells me what I needed to do.

"This theatre has six exits. There are two in this hall which have been locked down, and three at the sides which leads to a longer route out of here. Backstage, there should be the rest of the exits which will lead you directly to the parking lot." He informs me, explaining to me with the calmest expression one could ever expect from someone in such a situation.

"How do you know this?" I asked, curiously, pushing back the thought of our time running out.

"Because, before the show started, I took a walk outside and noticed that some of the performers were smoking at the parking lot. I also noticed that despite it seeming like a long way away from the stage, they managed to reach here in time for their performance. That means, they have a shortcut from here to there." He checks his watch for the time, and grunts. He then starts to push me towards backstage. "I need you to find us an exit out of here while I try to deactivate this bomb."

"WHAT?!" I stomped my feed hard onto the ground and planted them there, refusing to move. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

He sighs and stops pushing me, running those bulky hands of his through his mess of a hair. He gives a look of irritation while closing his eyes, and I stood before him, arms folded and an angry glare aimed at him.

"If I try to escape with you, they'll shut down the doors, then that way both of us can't go." He opens his eyes again, and all I see in them is nothing but the fire of golden brown determination. "It's me they want, not you. Frankly, they don't care whatever happens to you."

"NO." I forcefully shout out and he just growls at me. "Are you crazy thinking I'm leaving you here to die?! What kind of person do you take me for?!"

"You—"

"You're being totally selfish and inconsiderate of my feelings right now! How can you let me go off and live in guilt knowing I let you die?" I start off another rant, the panic inside of me turning into hot, boiling anger. Who does this guy think he is?! "I will ne—"

I don't even get to finish before he grabs me by my waist and starts carrying me out backstage. And I'm kicking and screaming at him, telling him to let me the fuck go. But he's not listening. Instead, he throws me out of the backstage's door and locks me out.

"WHAT THE FUCK AUSTIN?!" I shout, banging against the door, slamming at it with my little fists. "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR AUSTIN I'M NOT LEAVING YOU TO DIE."

"Shut up Ally." I hear him call out. I immediately stopped banging and prepared myself to go on another rant. But he talks again and doesn't give me a chance. "I can't think with you yapping around." I don't know if it's just me, but I can almost hear the smirk as he talks. "Trust me on this. I will not die on you. I can promise you that. But, you need to find your way out of here."

"But—" "Put your trust on me, and let me protect you." He says, and I feel myself almost calm down.

I don't know what he's doing behind these close doors, but I did promise him to let him protect me. And I don't break promises – no matter how weird or upside down this one might be. I nod to myself before turning around, breathing in deep and closing my eyes. I stay there for a few seconds, trying to get some peace of mind, before I opened my eyes to go.

I start running towards wherever, trying to find my way out of here. I open every door, every window in sight, trying to find an easy escape. And finally, right at the very end of the narrow hallway, I see it, a small door slightly agape. This means, someone must have used that as an exit shortly before I came here. I nod again to myself before running towards it, and slamming it open.

Bright sunlight filled the dark hallway I was in, and I can see, from here, our bus, and the vast parking lot. Austin was right, I think to myself, as I look down on the ground to see old and used cigars, crushed down onto the tarmac ground. I breathe a sigh of relief before leaning against the door I recently closed.

I check the time on my watch, almost fainting right at the spot as I realize how much time we had left.

"Three minutes." Someone suddenly speaks up, and I look up in shock to see who it was; my coffee brown eyes clashing with glass grey ones.

"Ru—Rutherford." I let out in a squeak, feeling uncomfortable with the presence he brings.

"Yes dear." He smiles wickedly, and takes a step forward. I try to back away, only to realize I'm up against the door.

"Wha—what do you wa—want from me?" I'm stuttering and I curse myself for it.

"Your boy Austin, he's a smart lad. He'll disable that bomb." He doesn't take another step further towards me, and I inwardly sigh in relief. "Four six two five. That's the deactivation code."

"Why are you telling me this?" I question, my eyebrows are up in an arch, and my hands behind me are sneakily trying to twist the door knob. It's not opening.

"Maybe he could use a little help." He smiles again, and his eyes bore into mine, and I feel myself shrink under his intense gaze. "But I think he'd appreciate it better, if he figured it out on his own."

"Don't—"

I try to protest against him, but his lips are suddenly on mine, catching my breath. And I feel myself go weak as I taste his coffee flavored tongue, with his skinny body pressed tightly onto mine. He didn't kiss me long enough, nor did he start to play with my tongue. He, however, right after the kiss, pulled me closer to him by the waist and whispered into my ear.

"Don't tell Austin about this, darling. Or I'll make sure you both don't get off as easily as this."

xoxo

I can't remember what happened next. I don't even know exactly how I passed out. It's all just been a blur. The next thing I know is, I'm waking up on a moving bus, my head resting on Austin's shoulder, while his gaze stare out the window.

"Austin." I tug at his shirt, and he looks down quite startled at me.

"Oh, you're awake." He says, a little sigh of relief escaping his lips.

"What happened?" I ask him, sitting up straight.

"I deactivated the bomb." He shrugs, and then he smirks.

"How?" I feel shocked he actually figured it out. No, I'm amazed. And I'm right now staring up at him in awe with a wide open mouth, and wide eyes.

"The bomb was set at six o'clock yesterday night. It was announced that it would blow twenty-five minutes before it would. Knowing Ruterford, he'd find some way to incarnate that information into the code." He shrugs and I almost feel stupid because of the fact that he was able to figure all that out.

"But, wait…" I say, realization striking me. "What about the four at the start?"

"Hm? Oh, that's Rutherford's favorite number." He shrugs again, and I start to wonder, exactly what his relationship with that word class pianist is. It takes him a second before he looks down at me strangely, and ask, "How'd you know about the four at the start?"

"Erm, I, lucky guess?" I laughed, trying to sound casual, although it's not doing me any good. I can see him eye me suspiciously, but I'm thankful he lets it go.

"So, did you put your trust in me?" He asks eagerly, almost sounding like a child wanting to know his test results.

"No. Not entirely." I sigh truthfully and he groans.

"But, didn't I tell you to promise me to let me pro—"

"Yes, I know." I laugh lightly, placing my small hand on top of his. "And I promise, from now on, I won't ever doubt you. I'll put all my trust in you, and just shut up, and let you protect me."

And I smile up at him, my eyes twinkling at the sight of his surprised expression. But I lace my fingers through his, and squeeze it tight. And he gives the favor back, before turning away. And I turn away too, feeling a small blush creep up my cheeks.

"You know, this is only just the beginning." He whispers, and I could almost swear I didn't hear it. But I did.

"I know."

A/N: Not too sure with how that ended. But I honestly think this chapter is alright. I hope the twists and turns of the plot from here on doesn't put you off the fanfiction. Please keep reading! And I appreciate all the reviews :) Some helpful criticism would be good too :D And I know this plot feels so lacking right now because it's all in Ally's POV and will probably stay like that for the whole of it but, things will get better from here :)

1 – You know, Ethan from Costumes and Courage.

2 – English translation is God's Blessing in Solitude which is a real piano piece which I actually find really nice and depressing. It also is the same actual song Eyes Rutherford, the guy from Spiral – the book I loosely based this fic on – plays on the actual book when this event happened. Not to worry, I did not take everything out of the book. I changed so much facts to be honest. Like, for example, Eyes – or Ethan, in this case – did not kiss Ally nor was he supposed to kiss Ally. So, yeah. Much more drama in here, and less context.

3 – Of course, let's use my favorite number.