A/N: So I've decided to try my hand in some more fanfiction. My current one (Fighting Land for Princess Protection Program) is currently stalled, and in the intervening period, a lot of ideas came running into my mind and decided to stay there. Most of these are original ideas that will probably end up still in my mind, but some of them were easily adaptable into fanfiction format, and so I decided to write them up first.
Now, for a little background. I'm a fan of Hannah Montana, and of Miley Cyrus. I still like her, but the stuff she pulled off recently just staggers me, for lack of a better term. You can say that I'm still living in the past, because in my mind's eye, I still see the old Miley, and the new one is like an entirely different person for me. So in this story, imagine Miley here as Miley during Hannah Montana and a little beyond.
Now, for some context about the story itself. I'm a fan of Air Crash Investigation. It's this series which focuses on air crashes and the reasons why planes go down and that kind of thing. And I also watched this movie called Flight, starring Denzel Washington. This story will draw elements from that film, but it's not just purely Flight starring Hannah Montana; instead, it's got elements from various things that I've seen and heard, and mixed them up to create an original story. Or at least it's original as a piece of fanfiction. I'm sure nobody's written about Miley/Hannah becoming an airline pilot!
Anyways, here's a new story for Hannah Montana, hopefully offering a brand new perspective to her character. Enjoy.
Miley Stewart woke up to the sound of a ringing digital alarm clock.
It took her mind some time to remember that she was not in her Malibu beach house. It took her a much longer time to remember that she was actually in some kind of three- or two-star hotel deep in Brazil.
Miley—full name Chelsea Ray Stewart—was a pilot for Cash Airlines, currently holding the rank of captain. Cash Airlines was this large airline based in Los Angeles that was a minor competitor for the real major airlines like American, United, and Delta, and while it operated a large network of domestic and international scheduled flights, it also had a small section entirely devoted to charter flights, which incidentally accounted for a full one-fourth of its yearly income.
Recently, Cash Airlines had been chartered by a large group of American soccer fans to fly them to Brazil to watch the FIFA World Cup. Miley was the pilot-in-command of one of the three Boeing 747s that had flown to Brazil, and she and the rest of the planes' aircrews had then decided to stay and join in on the World Cup experience.
They celebrated when the United States soccer team won against Ghana. They were celebrating what looked to be a victory against Portugal when that team equalized, and that led them to drowning their sorrows in drink. And then they drowned their sorrows in drink once again when the US lost to Germany.
When it was time for the round of 16, the Cash Airlines crew in Brazil were not sure that America could win against Belgium, which is admittedly one of the better sides in the tournament. And when America lost 2-1 to Belgium in extra time, they dealt with their country's loss the way they had been dealing with its losses before: drinking themselves almost to death. Well, maybe not really to death, but for someone drinking alcohol for the first time, the amounts that they consumed would have been deadly.
And of course, Miley Stewart, like many a person who had consumed more alcohol than their body could reasonably handle, had made a very stupid decision: she had slept with a fellow crew member.
Miley couldn't remember much of what happened last night, but she remembered booze—lots of it. Drugs were certainly, involved, too—she distinctly remembered snorting coke. After she snorted that coke, the night became a blur. And she remembered blurry sex in her room. Well, it was morning now, and she would now know who was the lucky—or unlucky—bastard who managed to bed her.
Miley sat up on the bed and swung her legs to the floor, giving her a good view of the bush between her legs and the two averagely endowed mounds on her chest, which were covered by her long brown hair. This glance at her "assets" reminded her that she had to clean herself up before reporting back to the Cash Airlines office for the inevitable exodus of disappointed American soccer fans. And Miley knew that her co-workers knew that she had slept with a fellow co-worker, but the higher-ups in Cash didn't have to know about it.
As Miley stood up to walk towards the bathroom, her companion from last night finally grunted himself awake. "That's certainly a good sight to wake me up in the morning," he said, staring at Miley's hindquarters.
"Like what you see?" Miley asked him, posing suggestively under the doorframe.
"Oh, yeah," the man replied. "Can't say that my girl's given me the same view after a night like last night, though."
"Speaking of your girl, she's so gonna kill you when she finds out that you cheated on her. And listen to me carefully: I said when, not if."
"Oh, you're gonna be as dead as I am when she finds out," he replied, "so you got just as much an incentive as I do to keep this under wraps."
Miley just laughed and stepped into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, after taking a quick shower, she allowed herself another look at the body of the man she had just slept with. His abs were faint but well-developed, and he had nice, big pectorals, too. But the most important thing about him was the power between his legs. He was neither too big nor too small, and he had this amazing ability to last for a long, long time, even after resting for just fifteen minutes. It had to be genetic, Miley thought. Teenagers didn't last as long as he did after a whole day of rest.
Beck Oliver was no Jake Ryan or Nick Jonas, but he was definitely a nice, strong man. And Jade West—Beck's girlfriend, and a woman with a reputation, in Cash Airlines at least, of being a very jealous woman who guarded her man with the tenacity of ten pit bulls—was very lucky to have Beck for herself, at least in Miley's opinion.
Beck was now sitting up on the bed, having turned on the television while Miley was still in the shower. He had been hoping to catch a replay of last night's soccer game—or any other soccer game, for that matter—but it seemed that this hotel was not really a place where many Americans stayed, because there was no channel on the TV that spoke English. Beck was now stuck with listening to a Portuguese recap of USA vs. Belgium. "You done already?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm done," Miley replied.
"Thank God," Beck exclaimed. "I can't watch this shit anymore. It's all in Portuguese!" As Beck went into the bathroom, Miley sat down on the bed, reached for the remote control, and turned off the television. "Hey, Beck?" she called out.
"Yeah?" Beck replied from within the shower. That thought conjured up another image of a naked Beck in Miley's mind. But now was not the time for such thoughts now.
"Just so we understand each other," Miley continued, "what happened to us was just for that one night, right?"
"What? Of course, Miles." Beck's head popped out from behind the door to the bathroom. "Look, Miles, I've got a girlfriend. You've… sort of… got a boyfriend. I think. I don't know. Probably some actor or singer or somebody."
"Ah, yeah, of course," Miley replied. "Jake Ryan and Nick Jonas. Yeah, to tell you the truth, Beck, they're not my boyfriends, anymore. Jake and I were too young when we were dating, and Nick and I… let's just say it did not end the way we both thought it should end."
"Hah! Tell me about it. I go through this on-again, off-again bullshit with Jade every month or two!" Beck sighed. "Still, it's good to know that someone of your background has gone through the same shit that I have."
Miley chuckled. Beck's relationship problems were as famous among the employees of Cash Airlines as Miley's own exploits with the rich and famous. Well, some of them had been famous when Miley had rubbed shoulders with them.
"So, Beck, aren't you going to ask me how I managed to get an actor and a singer under my spell?" Miley teased.
"Nah," Beck replied as he stepped out of the bathroom with only a white towel wrapped around his waist for clothing. He leaned on the doorframe and added, "Besides, someone who's been a teenage pop star sensation must have her own reasons." This elicited another chuckle from Miley.
"I gotta ask you this question, though," Beck said as he sat down beside Miley. "Why'd you leave showbiz? I mean, I know—hell, we all know—that you revealed yourself to be Hannah Montana just so you could join your friend Lola in Stanford-"
"Her name is actually Lilly," Miley interrupted. "Lola's her alter ego."
"As I was saying," Beck continued, "why did you leave showbiz and join us unwashed masses at Cash Airlines? It's gotta be more than just wanting to be in college with your friend."
Miley went silent for a moment before she replied. "Beck, this is gonna be the first time that I'm gonna say this to anybody who's not my immediate family."
"Okay," Beck said, sitting up a little bit straighter. "I'm listening," he added as he looked into Miley's eyes.
"I got tired, Beck," Miley said. "I got sick of always being in the limelight, night after night. It got to the point where I thought about ending it all, you know. It didn't matter how it came: from a bullet through my brain, from an OD of a cocktail of drugs, it didn't matter, as long as everything was finally over. But eventually I found that I couldn't do it. I was afraid that if I killed myself, I would just ending up hurting my family and friends even more. And I couldn't do that to them, as much as I wanted to stop singing and acting as Hannah Montana. So, instead, I just announced that I was retiring from showbiz, music, everything. And with that, I cut my ties to everything that had been from what I now call 'my past life.' And here I am, opening up to you. You, Beck Oliver, of all people."
Beck smiled, as if saying, "I get that a lot." And then he said, "But why did you choose to become a pilot, though? Why not, I don't know, continue on as Miley Stewart?"
"Oh, come on, Beck, you know that everyone knows that Miley Stewart and Hannah Montana are one and the same. Besides, like I said, I got tired of being always in the limelight. I wanted to be anonymous after having my face being almost instantly recognizable every time it comes up on the TV. And becoming a pilot looked like a logical decision to me at the time. I mean, you sit up at the very front of the plane, behind closed doors, and all you have to worry about is bringing your passengers to their destination safely. And you only have to speak to them through the PA, and we all know that everyone sounds like Darth Vader over the PA, so there's no risk of someone recognizing my voice and saying, 'Hey, our plane's being flown by Hannah Montana!' So, decision made, case closed."
"You always had a fantastic sense of humor, Miley Stewart," Beck said. His and Miley's faces were mere inches apart from each other. Despite the two of them knowing better, they moved closer to each other, and both closed their eyes in anticipation of what was to come. But just as their lips were about to touch, both of their cellphones rang at the same time. Both of them groaned as they moved away to pick up their respective phones.
"It's Jade," Beck said, almost to himself, as he looked at the screen of his phone. "I gotta take this, Miles. Excuse me."
"Yeah, go on ahead," Miley replied as she scrolled through the messages that she had received. One was from a fellow pilot, praising her for bedding Beck under Jade's nose, and warning her to watch her back in case Jade did find out, and was now planning how best to kill her. The other message was from the Cash Airlines office, telling her that she was about to go on flight duty again, for the flight back to Los Angeles. She ignored the first message and sent a brief reply of acknowledgement to the second one. With that done, Miley laid herself down on the bed and sighed. It was going to be a long, long day.
She had no idea of how right she was.