A/N: Another Cabin Pressure fic? Oh my XD But I'm excited about the new series coming next week and it's got me inspired! This is based from some RPs with the wonderful Blackthorn14, and although it starts as a sick fic, I promise it'll move away from that later. In fact, I'll post the first two chapters together and get it all out of the way. :P This fic will be several short chapters, which should mean I can update more regulary. So, pausing only to say that I obviously don't own Cabin Pressure, let's get underway!

Chapter One

Twenty minutes until they landed in Fitton, Martin realised his first officer was asleep. He decided to let him off; the landing was perfectly routine and it was only the return from a cargo flight. Anyway, it might be nice to have some quiet for a change. That said, this had been the quietest trip they'd ever had; Douglas hadn't made a single quip and the word game they had embarked upon had been incredibly short lived. He was looking rather grey and pale, most definitely coming down with something, even though, by his own announcement, he 'never got sick'. Martin couldn't help but smirk. He was fine, fit as a fiddle, and he was going to do the landing completely solo.

It wasn't that he resented Douglas as such, it was just that his first officer definitely got unfair chances to show off. Every time the slightest bit of tricky flying loomed on the horizon, either Douglas or Carolyn would make him relinquish control to his junior officer. It was humiliating. Being the captain at MJN seemed like the aerial equivalent of being a lunchbox monitor in Primary School, just something to keep him quiet and out of the way. He had complained about it to Carolyn, asking how he was ever supposed to prove himself if he was never given the chance, to which she had replied that she was running an airline, not Britain's Got Talent, and she wasn't the slightest bit interested in him proving himself. And that, as usual, had been that.

The landing today was straight forward enough, nothing he hadn't done a hundred times before, but this time he would do it without the sarcastic remarks and commentary from his co-pilot. He'd execute a perfect landing, and prove to everyone that he was perfectly competent.

"Anything else you want me to do before landing, Skip?" Arthur asked, appearing on the flight deck. He always came along on cargo flights even if his only jobs would be making coffee and the loading and unloading, and usually spent the majority of the flight hanging around behind the two pilots. Today, however, Douglas had relegated him to the galley, snapping that his chirruping was giving him a headache. Indeed, Arthur had entered rather cautiously and was hovering in the doorway, ready for a quick exit.

"It's alright, Arthur, you can come in." Martin said. "The dragon is sleeping."

"What?" Arthur pottered in for a closer look. "Oh… is he okay? He doesn't normally fall asleep on trips, or be so… shouty."

"He's fine." Martin said, unable to deny that he was enjoying himself just a little. "He's probably just getting a little, well, old. I suppose he just can't cope with these long trips like he used to."

"Aww." Arthur said. "Well, as long as he's okay. Shall I go and prepare for landing?"

Martin nodded, wondering what on earth Arthur had to do to prepare for landing on a cargo flight other than strapping himself in somewhere, but decided not to ask. They made the approach to Fitton and he landed, perfectly. Douglas woke up as the landing gear made first contact with the runway and blinked, looking a little dazed, and not very Douglas-like.

"Good morning." Martin said. "I just landed us in Fitton. Did you enjoy your snooze?"

"Not particularly." Douglas said, which seemed to be the pithiest remark he could come up with. He was obviously a little embarrassed.

"Oh, don't worry, it was a routine landing, and I used to fall asleep on trips home all the time." Martin said. "When I was four, in the back of my parents' Volvo."

"Oh, shut up." Douglas snapped, and Martin noticed his eyes were rimmed with red. He really didn't look at all well. Martin finally relented.

"Come on." He said. "Let's lock up and go and find a coffee in the portacabin."

When they arrived in the office, Carolyn was about as sympathetic as Martin had been initially. "Why, Douglas," She said, sweetly. "You're finally starting to look your age. Have you really been gone for ten years or is that just the result of ten minutes in conversation with Arthur?"

"Hey!" Arthur protested.

"Be quiet, Carolyn, it's just a cold, that I have probably caught from your flying petri dish of bacteria." Douglas sat down wearily. "Arthur, just get me a coffee."

"Righto, Douglas. Anyone else want one?"

They did, and after a few moments of Arthur noisily bustling around on the worktop, they each held a passable cup of coffee. Martin set his aside without looking up, having turned his attention to the log book. His attention was soon arrested, however, by the sight of Douglas hurrying past him into the small bathroom, soon followed by the unmistakable sound of someone puking their guts out. He had only had one sip of coffee. Martin flinched sympathetically. He couldn't stand sick, whether it was seeing it, smelling it, hearing it or producing it. The three remaining crew members looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Was it something in the coffee?" Arthur said finally, worried.

"I just don't think he's very well." Martin said, trying not to flinch again at the sound of retching.

"Yes, that might be an understatement, Martin." Carolyn said, banging on the bathroom door. "Douglas? Are you alright?"

"Not really, Carolyn, no." Douglas replied, with something almost like a groan. They heard him coughing, then being sick again.

"Should I get the ambulance crew?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, don't be silly. He must be almost finished now." Carolyn said, as they heard Douglas coughing in the next room. "Just get him some water. Martin, you'll have to give him a ride home, if he drives he'll crash."

"Of course." Martin said, nodding. "I'll take him home in his car and then if you follow, Carolyn, you can bring me back here for my van."

"Oh, no, we needn't bother with all that. Just take him in your van."

"Why?"

"Because, Martin, if he projectile vomits en route it will matter the least in that pile of scrap metal you drive round in."

Martin was very offended at this. His van was old, yes, and always one gear change away from permanent death, but he cleaned it every week without fail. He was about to protest this when an extremely grumpy Douglas emerged and accepted the water without a word. Martin shut his mouth again. He couldn't refuse to help when he could see it was needed. There was no better evidence of this than the fact that Douglas accepted a lift without argument. They sat in the van in silence. Martin half suspected Douglas would have fallen asleep again, if it hadn't been for the terrible suspension and ancient rattling engine. They were almost back when he noticed Douglas running a hand over his mouth.

"Do you need me to stop?" He asked, rather alarmed. He definitely did not want vomit over his van.

"No." Douglas shook his head. "I was just thinking that this is the first time I've thrown up since New Year's Eve 1999."

"Ah, gave up drinking for the Millennium, did you?" Martin asked.

"No. If you must know, I gave up drinking when my daughter was born. I had a few last hoorahs in the new century, I just held it better." Martin laughed and they went on in silence until he pulled up outside the house.

"Thank you, Martin."

"Are you going to be alright on your own?" Martin asked suddenly, thinking about how Douglas' house would be completely empty and how badly he had been sick.

"Martin, if you're offering to come in and nurse me then-"

"No! No. Sorry, but no. I just mean… are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Douglas said irritably. "Probably just a bit of food poisoning from the ghastly microwave meals Carolyn lovingly provides us with. At least, you better hope it is, Captain."

"Why?"

"Because if it's a virus," Douglas croaked. "You've just spent several hours locked in a small metal room with it." He slammed the van door shut and turned to throw up again into one of his rose bushes. Martin, studiously looking the other way, got out of the van and grabbed his keys from his hand, going to get the front door open. Douglas followed him in a moment later, looking a hundred years older.

"Thank you, Martin. Now go away." He said, and abruptly disappeared into the downstairs bathroom. Not sure what to do, Martin hovered awkwardly for a moment, then fetched a glass of water and left it on the side with Douglas' keys, before leaving the first officer to it.

He stopped to buy some oranges on the way home. His diet wasn't great at the best of times, and right now his immune system probably needed the vitamins.

Ooooooooooooooo

Martin was in his room on Saturday morning, reading the Bromsgrove Standard that had been pushed through the door, when his phone started ringing. Carolyn's name appeared on the ancient screen and he groaned. They weren't supposed to have another job until Monday, why couldn't she leave him alone? It was tempting not to pick up, but he did. After all, with GERTI, you never knew when another bit would fall off and she would need to know whether he could fix it or if she needed a proper engineer. On this occasion, however, it wasn't their plane causing the problem.

"Hello, Carolyn." He said cautiously.

"Good morning, Martin. How are you? Feeling well I hope?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Why?" Martin asked.

"Good. Is there any chance you could come down to the airfield today and give me a hand with the books? I have to cancel the flight on Monday and I need to work out how on earth we're going to afford to refund them."

"Wait, cancel the flight?" Martin said, alarmed. "Why? Douglas will probably be fine by then."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." Carolyn said sweetly. "I see you haven't heard. It seems after several hours of exploding violently from every orifice our first officer had the good sense to call himself an ambulance."

"Oh, goodness, that's awful. Is he alright?"

"Well, he sounded like death on the phone and didn't seem entirely sure of who he was talking to, but I'm sure he'll survive." Carolyn said briskly. "Some aggressive form of the neurovirus, apparently. He said he should be out on Monday, but after that it's two weeks of complete rest or he'd be infecting us and all the passengers. Hence my question- Are you alright?"

"Fine, I'm fine." Martin said, although typically as soon as he'd thought about it his stomach had started to clench with anxiety. "What about Arthur? He was on board too."

"Oh, Arthur is fine, bouncing around with all guns blazing insisting we go to visit Douglas later. Anyway, come and help with the accounts, will you? At the moment I can't see any way we can give them a full refund."

"So don't cancel the flight." Martin said.

"Martin, have you listened to a word I've said? Have you forgotten that Douglas won't be there?"

"No, have you forgotten I'm also a fully qualified pilot?" Martin snapped irritably. "Look, we'll have to cancel the Florida run next week, there isn't much I can do about that, but Monday's flight is only over to France. I'll be well within my legal flying hours and it's a routine trip, I've done it a hundred times; and if we do that it might give us just enough in hand to refund the Americans."

Carolyn considered this in silence. "We can't, Martin, I'm sorry." She said, finally. "It's just too risky. We never know what might happen."

"Please, Carolyn, just trust me!" Martin tried, his heart pounding. He knew she was right, that he shouldn't insist, but he couldn't help it. He knew that if Douglas had said it, she would have agreed, and he needed to show her, to prove that he could do it just as well as anyone else. Perhaps if he just did this, they would finally start taking him seriously. "I mean, come on, we can't really afford not to and you know I'll be safer than Douglas ever is."

"Oh, alright!" Carolyn gave in. "But I'm coming with you. I don't trust you and Arthur alone with a plane full of little old ladies."

"Oh, right, of course, because the Fitton WI are known to be such trouble makers."

"No arguments, Martin. We're a crew member down already, I'm coming to keep an eye on things. I'm not convinced this is a good idea and the only way it's prevented from being a terrible idea is that I will be there."

"Fine…"

"Good. Then I will see you on Monday, so help us." With that, she hung up. Martin set his phone aside, feeling his determination strengthen. Carolyn would be there, it was a good thing. She would see him cope, see him fly so well on his own that next time, she would believe in him a little more. Martin knew he wasn't a bad pilot, he just needed the others to see that.