Martin left early in June, and things became awfully quiet at MJN Air. Carolyn did her best to ensure that most of the bookings allowed for solo flights, with the occasional assistance from Herc who was only too happy to help the 'woman he knew' when not otherwise busy with Swiss Airways.

By the end of July Douglas was starting to feel unbelievably bored, and more than a little uneasy about the prospect of MJN going bust in the nearest future. The last thing he was expecting upon pulling up at the airfield that morning was Herc's green Mercedes; they were on standby for the whole week, and Carolyn would have phoned him if they'd got a new job in the meantime.

Even so, he was completely unprepared for the sight of his former captain perched on a chair with his knees huddled against his chest, a tentative smile flickering across his face as soon as Douglas stepped into the office.

"Martin. What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'm back," his friend murmured in a quiet voice. "If Carolyn will have me, that is. I think she's somewhere talking to Herc right now."

A question was dancing on the tip of his tongue, but one look at Martin's sagged shoulders was enough to make him change his mind.

"What about we get some coffee in the meantime?" he offered in his smoothest tone, an odd sense of relief washing over him when the young pilot promptly agreed.

He would have a word with Herc later on, he decided. No need to upset an already distraught Martin, whose speedboat had apparently sunk sooner than anyone was expecting.

xxx

Carolyn summoned him in her office later that day, while Martin had been kidnapped by an overly enthusiastic Arthur who was only too eager to swap stories about their latest flights.

"Martin says he's prepared to be back as a first officer, provided I give him the bare minimum to live on. The question is whether a certain Douglas Richardson would be willing to accept a minor drop in salary to allow this to happen."

He furrowed his brow then, momentarily taken aback by the turn of events. As much as he despised being a first officer, the idea of being Martin's captain felt wrong somehow.

"Why?" was all he managed to get out, though gracefully enough in spite of his earlier surprise.

"Douglas. The poor lad has just resigned from Swiss Airways, and I'm done with taking advantage of his eagerness to fly."

"I didn't mean that," he protested. "What I actually meant is that he might as well retain his position as the captain."

Carolyn stared at him for a good minute, as if trying to gauge whether her pilot had been drinking something else than coffee that morning. "Fair enough. I have to admit I wasn't expecting you to be so unselfish about the matter. That's actually rather generous of you."

He only raised a disdainful eyebrow and breezed away; he had a reputation to uphold, and while he was prepared to do whatever it took to help his friend, he wasn't going to spell it out loud in front of their employer anytime soon.

xxx

That evening he reluctantly arranged to meet Herc at a nearby pub. He broached the subject as soon as the drinks were placed in front of them – a pint of beer for Herc, and a glass of apple juice for him.

"I gather you're in the knowledge of what went wrong with Martin's job. Care to enlighten me?"

Herc took a thoughtful sip of his drink before meeting Douglas' gaze. "The poor lad ended up with an utter bastard as his new captain. I tried to stand up for him on a couple of occasions, but there was nothing I could really do. A friend told me he had a major meltdown a week ago, and that was when he decided to resign."

Douglas clutched at his glass as if it was the neck of that righteous twerp. It was all well and easy to bully someone like Martin, who wouldn't be able to stand up for himself even if his life depended on it; he would very much enjoy putting the moron back into his place, if the occasion ever arose.

"I'm sorry," he muttered at last, knowing that that was good enough as a 'thanks for what you've done' when it came to Hercules Shipwright.

Herc only nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Martin is a good pilot when he doesn't work himself into a panic. A pity that his nerves fail him half the time."

A faint bell rang somewhere inside Douglas' brain, one that he couldn't quite place no matter how hard he tried.

In the end he simply paid for the drinks and walked away. He had some thinking to do, and some research to conduct as well. It was going to be a long night.

xxx

He spent the better part of the night researching anxiety disorders and anything related to it. His background as a former medical student was somewhat helpful, though of course he wasn't in any way a professional.

It was nearly morning when he accidentally clicked on an article about autism spectrum disorders, and his attention was suddenly drawn to the pattern of symptoms that distinguished Asperger syndrome. Well, if that wasn't a portrait of Martin Crieff, he didn't know what else it was supposed to be.

Martin's fixation with rules and regulations. His frankly astounding memory when it came to the flight manual. His stubbornness in his goal to become a pilot, no matter how many takes he'd had to go through before getting his CPL. His awkwardness around people, even more so when it came to potential girlfriends. His adorable helplessness whenever they were playing word games.

Douglas thought back of the time he'd actually seen Martin cry when the captain had found himself unable to deal with that awfully rude passenger on their flight to Boston. And he'd been insensitive enough to tease the poor lad about it, he realized as a pang of guilt hit him in the stomach.

When his head finally hit the pillow, he decided he would talk his friend into seeing a medical professional. A psychologist would be able to make an appropriate diagnosis, since nobody seemed to have bothered so far – though that didn't sound particularly surprising, once you'd met Martin's family.

xxx

Martin was a bundle of nerves when Douglas drove him home from his appointment.

"What if the CAA decides to take away my licence? What if Carolyn thinks it's not safe to let me fly because – because of this thing?"

Douglas shook his head with conviction. "I'm sure they won't. And this 'thing' actually has a name, Martin. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

His friend fell back into an uncomfortable silence, until they were finally sitting in the kitchen of Martin's new flat nursing a good cup of tea.

"Look at me," he uttered gently, allowing himself a small smile when the other reluctantly complied. "Of the two of us, you're not the one who struggled for years with a drinking problem. You're fit to fly, I promise."

Martin stiffened slightly when a supporting hand was placed on his shoulder, only to relax and lean further into the touch. "Thank you."

"I like to think of us as friends after all these years we've been working together. And friends look after each other, don't they?"

"I suppose they do. I never really had any." Their eyes met, and a faint blush spread over the younger man's cheeks. "I know it's rather silly of me, but do you think you could – I mean, could you please –"

"Sir has to remember that even I do not pride myself on being able to read minds."

"Could you just hug me, Douglas?" his friend blurted out at last, vulnerability apparent in his voice.

"Come here, you ridiculous man," he murmured fondly, a warm feeling stirring inside his chest when the ginger pilot let out a contented sigh and relaxed against his chest.

MJN Air was indeed a family in its odd way, and neither Douglas nor Martin would give up on it anytime soon. Those guys at Swiss Airways would never understand any of it, but then it was their loss and their loss only.