This had been my first fic for the meme as well as my first completed fic. Keeping with the theme, I'm posting it here from my AO3. Enjoy!

Edmund O'Brien. Not Eddy, Ed, or whatever possible concoction of a name people are able to come up with nowadays: just Edmund. He had taken an interest in Edmund immediately. It wasn't often one was able to find another so vastly similar to oneself; especially when that "oneself" is Douglas Richardson.

Edmund wasn't one to stand out in a crowd; his immaculately combed brown hair, his calm green eyes, and his semi-casual yet similarly formal attire didn't attract much attention. However, if one were to look closer, they'd find a man of great intelligence and unmistakable wit. Douglas has cultivated a real respect for the man despite the short amount of time they've taken to become reacquainted. Due to the countless number of resemblances between the two, Douglas had found himself growing close to the man; becoming almost like brothers.

Douglas had known him in primary school though their friendship hadn't been what it is today; in fact, Douglas had barely spoken to him then. When they parted ways after those few years, he'd never heard of Edmund again, not until getting into Heathrow with his miniature crew known to some as MJN Air.

Carolyn had been none too pleased about the fact that they were landing in London. Upon hearing the client's need to be dropped in London rather than Fitton after his week-long visit to Germany, she'd thrown up her arms in exasperation. "Why can't the sod just come back to Fitton and drive to London. Wasting precious fuel to get you all back here for our next client is just another tick to add to the list of things keeping us in the red." She'd gone about complaining for the remainder of the afternoon after the call. Douglas, for one, didn't care one way or the other whereas Martin, it would seem, was ecstatic - rambling about some plane that was parked at Heathrow for maintenance or something. Douglas, like usual, tuned them both out.

Now, while striding out of the terminal and towards the exit, Martin didn't seem nearly as excited. In fact, he'd gone quite stiff next to Douglas. He looked about to see what could possibly be causing such a reaction in the captain. It would seem, though, that it wasn't a 'what' but rather, a 'who'; he looked up to find a strange man in slacks and a grey button down shirt giving them an odd look.

Douglas made his way over to see what was the matter. Throwing on his most sarcastically-polite smile, Douglas extended his hand. "I've heard how hard it is to contain oneself while in my presence though I can't say I've ever seen that look on someone's face before. Douglas Richardson. And you are…?"

The man chuckled and took the proffered hand, turning on an equally wary smile, "Richardson. I've heard the name before. I'm Edmund. Edmund O'Brien. You'll have to excuse my staring, I must have recognized you from somewhere."

Douglas was thrown by the classy persona the man donned. His distinct Irish accent threw the persona off a bit, but it was an accent that he'd recognize anywhere, "Eddy! My goodness it's been awhile, I'd be surprised if you recognized me at all, seeing as how we haven't talked since primary school."

The man visibly bristled at the name but pulled on a strained grin to attempt to cover the anger, "Ah yes, Douggie. Now I remember. And what brings you to the London area?"

Douglas smirked at the similar way in which he brought up his childhood nickname; Eddy was never a name that Edmund liked and the same could be said about Douglas's own 'Douggie'. He smiled, a bit more relaxed now and responded, "Here for business, actually. We've just dropped a client here and are going to stay the night before flying back to Fitton."

"We?"

"Why yes, myself, my copilot: Marin, and our lovely steward, Arthur. Do come here you two, this is Edmund O'Brien, an old mate of mine from primary."

Arthur bounded forward immediately to introduce himself. Martin, on the other hand, sulked (for that was the only word for it) carefully forward and shook Edmund's hand before quickly turning to Douglas.

"Yes, um, Douglas. This has been…nice and all but I'm going to go to the hotel. Quite tired and all that and it would seem there's not much else for me to do here." He looked around in an almost frantic manner, "you ah-, well, you en-enjoy your time with your frie-friend. Bye now."

Martin quickly waved and bolted from the scene, pulling Arthur with him. Douglas was thrown; his captain was an awkward man but he'd never seen a display like that. He looked at Edmund who stared coolly back with one eyebrow raised and a smirk playing across his lips. Douglas shrugged, who was he to know what was going through the ginger pilot's head.

"Well," Douglas said, "you seem like you've got nothing going, Edmund, and I'd hate to think of the dreadful hotel my CEO has booked me in. Care for a drink?"

Edmund chuckled in response and nodded, "I know just the place."

An hour and a half later found Douglas sipping at his third beer; root beer that is. Edmund's company had turned out to be just as enjoyable as he'd predicted. The man was snarky and had nearly the same personality as Douglas himself, which made for quite pleasant conversation. They'd both stuck with colas and sides which was just fine to Douglas; no one liked being the only sober man in the group.

"So Edmund," Douglas began as the waiter delivered yet another serving of chips to the table, "I never did ask, what exactly were you doing in London's finest airport?"

Edmund finished chewing before responding, "Actually, I work there. Well, here and there in many different airports."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'm an inspector of sorts."

"What, pray tell, does that mean?"

"That I get to fly all over the world and do nothing but yell at people and tell them what they need to get better at if they hope to still be in business by the next week."

They both chuckled at that. From there they launched into stories of the workplace. Douglas found himself speaking fondly of MJN and the majority of his stories consisted of their crazed adventures though he'd only been with them a couple of years.

"You can't have actually lifted a firetruck, Douglas, that's insane!" Edmund was laughing wholeheartedly now, keeping his eyes wide in mock disbelief.

"Oh yes. Martin and I were none too pleased with the ground crew, I tell you. We thought we'd move their misplaced vehicle to a…safer location than in front of our aircraft."

"And that's another thing," Edmund exclaimed, still chuckling from his last bout of laughter, "your copilot. My god."

Douglas found himself quickly losing his carefree nature. "Well? What about him?"

"I just never thought I'd see the day that the man would actually fly a plane." Edmund continued giggling. Had Douglas not been with him this whole time, he'd suspect the man of being at least a bit tipsy.

"I didn't know you'd met Martin before."

"Met. Ha! That's a word for it. Actually, before I was an inspector I was a proctor for those god-awful CPL exams."

Douglas sighed. It was no wonder Martin had run off so quickly, he was embarrassed by his past with Edmund; though not an extensive one it left a lasting impression.

"Ah so he's told you, then," he asked, reading the look on Douglas's face. "Though I imagine failing seven times is a hard secret to keep."

"Oh so you were his proctor each time?"

"But of course. I made sure of it." At this Edmund's eyes tightened and his tone grew sharper.

"I wasn't aware that you could choose whose tests you sit in on."

Edmund snorted, "Not usually, no. But I have…connections. That kid, Martin is the son of the most hateful bitch I've ever met."

At this, Douglas stilled. This conversation was taking a turn into a territory he didn't want to delve into yet Edmund plowed on.

"Eliza Cassidy, now, though, she's Eliza Crieff." He stopped and took a swig of his cola, "I dated her in secondary you know. We were in love! Then she up and leaves me, the night I was going to propose. I realize we were young but she didn't have to run off with some other man. Pathetic."

Douglas stared at Edmund. His persona had completely changed from the collected man he'd been chums with for the last two and a half hours to a hateful being that he didn't at all recognize.

"I showed her though. I made her son as miserable as she made me. It was worth it. Martin Crieff failed my test seven times and had I been in the country for his last test, it would have been eight."

The sound of Martin's name jolted Douglas back into reality. He stared at Edmund, taking a few seconds to let what he said sink in. Edmund stared back at him with triumph in his eyes and that look that only those who think they're better than God can have.

Douglas stood abruptly and turned to leave. He wasn't going to blow up at the sad little man. It was clear now that he was more pathetic than anyone else he'd met. Pity, Douglas had so hoped he'd continue to be good company in the future.

"You can't honestly say you're upset over that berk, Douglas. You've seen him! He's pitiable, useless in the worst way! I couldn't possibly allow him to become a pilot."

So much for that lack of confrontation bit.

He now realized who Edmund was looking at in the airport, it was Martin. And he'd been looking at him with disgust and obvious disdain. Douglas spun around, a look of murder in his eyes.

"I only have one question for you Edmund." Douglas stared unblinkingly at the man now cowering somewhat in his seat. Continuing in a completely toneless and calm voice he said, "Would Martin have passed?"

"I…what?"

"Would. Martin. Have. Passed. On his first try, had you not sabotaged his test, would Martin have obtained his license?"

Edmund gulped, obviously unsure of how to answer. "Well, yes. His test was perfect."

Douglas straightened up, staring down at the man, eyes in slits, with complete contempt.

"I'll tell you something, Eddy, you are damn lucky that Martin ended up with MJN or you'd never make it out of this city; because of your foolish and pathetic actions, I've met one of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Martin, a proper pilot and my Captain is twice the- no, scratch that, ten thousand times the man you have ever and will ever hope to be. Don't you ever come near MJN, Fitton, or Martin, for that matter, again or you will be sorry. Though I can already tell you that with what you've told me tonight, I'll be able to make your life a living hell. So stay away from my crew unless you want to make my retribution even worse than what I've already planned."

With that, Douglas turned away, striding purposefully out the door and towards the seedy hotel Carolyn had booked for them.

Douglas entered their, regrettably, shared room later than he'd intended. He'd walked to cool off (though it hadn't helped much), not anticipating just how far away the restaurant was. It was now four hours since they'd all left the airport yet Martin was still in the hotel.

He'd expected Martin to be out with an excited Arthur, roaming the town for Toblerones but instead he was here, sitting on his bed staring blankly at the television.

Upon hearing his arrival, Martin looked up and smiled at him, obviously trying hard to act indifferent about the fact that Douglas had been out for the greater part of the late afternoon with his past tormentor. Douglas raised an eyebrow, attempting to act as if nothing had changed between them because, honestly, it hadn't. He liked the boy enough without his piloting skills coming into account. He was livid that Martin's life had been made as pitiful as it was due to some wretched attempt at revenge, yes. But his opinion of Martin hadn't been altered; he knew he was a good pilot. For god's sake the man landed an aeroplane on one engine, but he was still the clumsy boy that Douglas had been flying with for the past few years.

"Why, Sir," he drawled, making sure to not let his still present anger come into contact with his voice, "shouldn't you be out enjoying what great treats London has to offer? I was sure that by now, you and Arthur would be having a grand old time as tourists."

Martin snorted, "You know perfectly well that I could never afford to be a 'tourist'," the word tourist accompanied by air quotes provided by Martin's hands, "No, Arthur wanted to stay and swim and since I didn't feel like joining him, I made my way up here to watch some telly."

Douglas sighed, Martin's embarrassment was making him angry at Douglas's nonchalance; seems he'd have to work a different angle then. Before he could start however, Martin turned off the television and stood up.

"Well," he started, "I just wanted to make sure you'd get in okay. I'm taking a shower."

Douglas grabbed Martin's arm before he could step into the bathroom and spun him around. He waited until the boy looked into his eyes before beginning, "Look, Martin, I know now that you and Edmund didn't have the best of pasts." Martin scoffed at that, attempting to pull his arm free. "But! I've set him straight." At this Martin stilled and looked at Douglas with wide eyes. "But…why? What could he have possibly done…"

"He told me that he was your proctor for each of your tests and from what I can tell, he wasn't very good, yes?"

"I, um, well, yes. Yes, that's true." His answer was whispered.

"I don't know if you know this, Martin, but he sabotaged your tests."

"He did what?" Martin's reply, while still whispered, was so angry that Douglas was surprised at the sudden change from scared and curious to complete venom.

"He and your mother had a difficult relationship or something, I was a bit fuzzy on the details, and he purposely failed you as some twisted version of revenge. Failed you every. Time."

Martin was still staring at Douglas, now completely stiff, though the anger had passed as quickly as it had come. Now his eyes told a story of sadness and pain.

"I had thought…I didn't…I had no idea…"

Douglas raised a hand to silence the blabbering. He let go of Martin but before he could turn around, Douglas started speaking again, "There's something else."

Martin, who had begun staring at the floor, sighed, "What is it?"

"He told me that had he not so foolishly ruined your chance to pass, you would have. You would have passed with a perfect score."

Martin's head snapped up so fast, Douglas feared of whiplash. His eyes were a curious mix of anger, hope, and sadness, filling to the brim with tears. Before he could begin rambling off anymore unplanned drabble, Douglas continued. "Look, Martin, what he did, it effectively ruined your future as a pilot but had he not done that I'd have never met you. I'm sorry to say, Martin, that I'm an extremely selfish man and despite my fury at his actions I realize that without them you'd never be flying MJN so it's affecting my judgment regarding his, shall we say, punishment. While I'd normally make sure he was thrown in the Thames and never found –," At this Martin gasped but a faint smile was playing at his lips, "I'm happy that you're here so here's what I'm going to do. I know a few people from my, hm, particularly lucrative business who owe me a few favors. With their help, we can make sure that Mr. O'Brien doesn't get the chance to wear anymore obviously expensive casual wear. What do you think?"

Martin was nearly grinning now, "Douglas I don't want to- want to ruin anyone's life or anything…"

"Not to worry, Sir, we're not ruining anything, just making sure he's not nearly as comfortable or disgustingly posh as he is now."

Martin laughed at that, "Well, I trust you Douglas, whatever you decide; I'm looking forward to it."

Douglas smiled at Martin's newfound cheery attitude, "Oh I assure you, Martin, I'm looking forward to it as well."

Martin took another moment to stare at Douglas with a smile before picking up his shower items and making his way to the bathroom. He stopped at the door and turned around to look at Douglas, "Oh Douglas, one more thing."

Douglas looked over at where Martin was now smirking.

"You know you're posh too."

"Yes but I'm a distinguished version of posh; my personality is one of charm and wit, not nearly as sordid as our friend, Edmund."

Martin grinned again before continuing his trek into the bathroom.

The crew of MJN made their way into a dingy airport restaurant, taking a moment to eat during their layover between Fitton and Japan. They sat at a decidedly less filthy table than the rest and prepared to order their pitiable excuses for meals.

Martin, having decided on his food looked around the tiny airport. While he was an airport (well all things relating to flying, really) enthusiast of sorts, he recognized how pathetic this one was. It was so tiny, located right on the outskirts of a farm town; honestly, he was surprised there was a restaurant in the place at all. He continued looking at the sparse architecture until his eyes landed on a single man. His clothes were the tattered kind only a janitor in an airport like this could wear. The man was working hard at cleaning up a puddle of…something until he turned around and noticed Martin.

Douglas looked up when he heard Martin's gasp and looked in the same direction that Martin was. He smiled coolly at Edmund O'Brien who was performing an excellent impression of a fish out of water while looking back and forth between Douglas and Martin. He raised his hand in a wave, a gesture not acknowledged by the man himself but that brought a small chuckle from Martin. Edmund threw his mop back into its bucket and rolled it away, leaving the puddle of unidentified goop behind.

While watching his departure, Martin let out a low chuckle, locking eyes with Douglas and smiling.

"He certainly doesn't look comfortable," Martin said, looking back in the direction of Edmund's retreating form.

"No, no he does not. I think his new outfit suits him much better, though."

Martin laughed again, "Thank you, Douglas."

Douglas nodded his acknowledgement and turned back to his menu, deciding that he could survive for the next few hours with only a drink. He eyed Carolyn and Arthur who'd been oblivious to the entire affair while bickering over food pronunciations. He then looked back at Martin who was back to observing the airport around them.

He leans back in his seat and waves over the waiter. Yes, Douglas thinks, I quite like this. I like this a lot.

Thanks for reading!