AN: A Christmas fic posted in April. A Bit odd, but the nature of WIPs are resistant to writing things on time. At least for me they do. The fic is finished and I'm slowly editing and posting the chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to pb-jwaffles for beta-ing this fic waaay back in March of last year. She caught a lot of my terrible newbie writer mistakes and gave me wonderful suggestions. And thanks to Teyke for a last minute look at the first chapter of this fic

The holidays were always very stressful for Martin. His family wasn't very materialistic, but it was important to Martin to keep up the facade that he was making a decent wage as a charter captain. A decent wage that would pay for the usual gift cards, useless pretty things and food stuffs that would quietly signal, "Not poor! Doing well!" to his family. He squirreled away as much as he could during the year, but he always made just enough to pay his bills and it didn't leave room for frivolous things like Christmas presents. He was working extra hours with his van to pay for the dismal presents he planned to buy for his family. It didn't help that MJN Air was so busy during the holiday season. It was amazing the amount of last minute cargo flights and desperately stranded passengers Christmas inspired. He barely, if ever, got his twelve hour rest between flights; he was usually attempting to fit in van jobs in between them. It was playing havoc with his sleep patterns, especially when crossing time zones during cargo flights and the subsequent jetlag that came with it.

This was how he ended up performing the most harrowing landing of his career. He missed a key instruction from air traffic control and almost veered off the runway. They landed on the grass field of Fitton airfield, the landing wheels were smoking and damaged. Carolyn was furious. She had to pay for the repairs for the wheels and it was another expense MJN Air could barely afford right now. She almost threatened to dock Martin's pay before she remembered that she didn't pay him at all. Douglas gave a meaningful look to Carolyn, which shut Carolyn up immediately.

Martin sat in the porta-cabin, at the rickety cheap table that he spent many hours filling out flight plans and paperwork that Douglas always leaves for Martin to do. Carolyn and Arthur had left and Martin was expecting some privacy to collect himself under the pretense of getting a head start on the paper work for the damages on Gerti. No such luck. A cup of tea appeared in front of him. He looked up to find Douglas with an odd expression on his face. Martin realised this was the first time Douglas had expressed open concern for him and it made Martin feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry, this was all we had in the galley. Carolyn doesn't stock much food during such short cargo trips," Douglas explained, sitting down and pushing the plate of biscuits towards Martin. "This comes to our sticky situation. Maybe you can help me out?"

Martin would much rather he had spoken to him sharply. Martin didn't like this quiet sympathy that was so out of character for Douglas. Martin would have preferred if Douglas made snide and teasing remarks for Martin to battle against. It was difficult to hold himself together when there was nothing to fight against. If he had the energy, he would have picked a fight with Douglas who was sitting across him with hobnobs and hot tea. He couldn't even begin to come up with a snappy response.

He sighed into his cup. "What is it, Douglas? Whatever you have to ask, just ask it."

"Well, Captain, you look very knackered for a two-hour cargo flight to Switzerland," began Douglas, sounding like a pompous investigator that Martin hated on TV, "considering we had twenty-four hours of rest between this flight and the last one to Germany. You're not the careless sort. You always got enough sleep in between each flight. You're absolutely adamant about it. I don't understand how you failed to miss those instructions by ATC. Have you taken up any late night hobbies I should be concerned about?"

"Very good, Inspector Morse. Please tell me your conclusions. What do you think?"

"I frankly don't have much of a clue."

Martin laughed but nothing was funny about this. "No, I suppose you don't."

Douglas's voice softened. "Martin, is everything alright? I know MJN doesn't pay well—"

"It pays nothing," said Martin, trying very hard to keep his emotions in check. He didn't like the way his voice wobbled at the word "nothing."

"Yes, that. Are you having financial trouble?"

"I always have financial trouble, Douglas. You wouldn't understand," said Martin. He looked down at his cup of tea. He remembered there was nothing to eat at his flat. He couldn't even afford tea this month. This sad plate of tea and biscuits would be his dinner tonight. He felt his control slipping when he unintentionally admitted, "I don't know how long I can continue like this. Carolyn will likely fire me after this incident and I-I don't know...maybe I unconsciously wanted-"

"To crash the plane?"

Martin shot Douglas a horrified look. "No!" exclaimed Martin. After a pause he continued in a small voice. "No. Never that. I wonder if I should be fired. I'm not very competent at my life...I mean, my job. I can't imagine what I would do without flying, I wouldn't want..." Martin rambled, giving voice to feelings of failure that he never put much attention to when he was always so busy surviving. For a moment, the emotions were so overwhelming, he forgot Douglas was there and he was just talking to himself. "I mean, it would be horrific to not fly. It's miserable with and without flying. But my life without flying...I just don't think I would want to..."

Martin trembled when he mumbled the last few words, letting them trail into ambiguity when he realised where his thoughts were heading. He hoped Douglas hadn't caught his words, but Douglas looked appalled and determined. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"It's nothing," he said. His voice broke oddly over the lie and he found, to his horror, that his face was wet. Something had broken inside of him and the fog of shock and fatigue could no longer shield him from the terrible thoughts that threatened to smother him. He was an unsafe pilot who endangered the safety of his passengers and crew. He risked his life and the lives of others to buy Christmas gifts for his family so they wouldn't shame him out of his career choice this Christmas. Who was he fooling? His career as a pilot was definitely over and Martin wanted nothing more than to go home and never leave his flat. He felt absolutely sick about his unthinking stupidity and the inevitability that Carolyn will fire him.

Martin heard Douglas say his name. He looked up at Douglas, his grey eyes wide and panicky. Douglas tried to calm Martin by grasping his arm. Martin flung Douglas's hand away. His career was over and it was the only thing he could think of as he put quickly put on his coat. He fled out of the porta-cabin and numbly drove home, his face still wet with shed tears.

Martin opened the door to his claustrophobic flat. The flat only had enough room for his bed, a small table and drawers for his clothes. When he had first moved in, he had painted it a tasteful shade of light blue that reminded him of the sunny skies when he flew. This was his first flat and he remembered thinking that this flat would only be temporary. He would pass his CPL exams and get a lucrative job flying with one of the major airlines. He would only live here for three years at most. He'd been here for nine. He looked around and sighed. Life didn't turn out the way he wanted but it was enough that he could come home and go to sleep with the satisfaction that he was doing exactly what he wanted with his life: flying. Now that would be taken away from him because of the stupid mistake he made this afternoon. Carolyn will fire him. She was always going on about how he was always costing her money in incurring landing fees and unnecessary repairs. She couldn't afford to pay him and it was becoming clear to him that he couldn't continue living in this state of poverty. He was thirty-two and he couldn't face his family with his failures. He was unmarried and was barely making ends meet. What was he going to say to Caitlin and Simon's silent and smug disapproval? How could he convince his mother that he could take care of himself as a pilot? He couldn't.

The weight of his failure depressed him. He took out the batteries out of the mobile phone that he could barely afford and ignored the world. He changed out of his uniform and into his night shirt and pyjama trousers and went to bed. He fell into a dreamless sleep. When he woke up, he didn't see the point in doing anything. He knew he was being irresponsible but he was too tired to care. If he wasn't sleeping, he was brooding.

The next day, he got out of bed at 5pm through sheer force of will. He showered, dressed and ate his first proper meal of the day. It was beans on stale toast that the students had left behind before they left for the holidays. He gathered his courage to call Carolyn but only got her answerphone. He left a message, turned off his phone and went back to bed. He calculated how much money he had in his wallet and bank account. He was certain that he was going to be fired and it didn't seem feasible to spend the fifty quid he had saved for Christmas on gifts. And the idea of going shopping, managing the crowds and the pure indecision and anxiety about buying gifts for his whole family for less than fifty quid was overwhelming to him. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled into a ball. He didn't want to deal with his problems anymore. It was all too much for him. He didn't know long he lay there. His miserable thoughts wouldn't leave him alone and by the late evening, he was sure he had nothing to live for after Christmas.

He wasn't thinking straight when he found a bottle of expired paracetamol pills on his night stand. He sat up and carefully took a handful of them. He couldn't help but think he was doing this wrong. He never heard of anyone dying from swallowing a bottle of Paracetamol pills. He needed sleeping pills, but he didn't have any and he didn't know how to get them without a prescription. It didn't matter. He got out of bed and poured himself a glass of water. He put down the glass of water on the night stand, picked up the bottle of paracetamol and carefully poured the pills onto the palm of his hand. He wanted to do it before he lost his nerve. He was glad that he wasn't too much of a burden to anyone. He had no children, no wife and no real job. He tried not to think about his family. He didn't even feel that he knew them anymore after many years of keeping them at a distance.

He was about to swallow the pills when his guardian angel appeared. She held out her hand and introduced herself, "Hello. You must be Martin Crieff. I've been assigned to be your guardian angel."