Martin was having a terrible week. The stress of everything was just too much; First that Nancy Dean Liebhart woman stormed into the flight deck, causing him to stammer and basically make a fool of himself; secondly, Douglas forced him to assume a French accent and tell an obviously improvised anecdote about how he 'once encountered a polar bear in the wild and outwitted it armed only with an egg whisk and a pogo stick'. Luckily, it was a trick and the cabin address wasn't actually on but he still embarrassed himself in front of Douglas; Thirdly, he almost had a panic attack in front of Douglas and Arthur (In fact, he wasn't sure if it was actually a panic attack); then, to top it all, he had had a slight (maybe not as 'slight' as he would have liked) break down in front of that Nancy Dean Liebhart woman who had decided to tell him in return that there was a lemon taped to his hat! All credit to Douglas for that inspired hiding spot for 'The Travelling Lemon'!

Martin knew that one more embarrassing situation would push him over the edge. He didn't want to go over the edge! If it wasn't for the fact that he enjoyed flying, he probably would have told Carolyn were she could shove her flight schedule and stay in his attic all day, under the blanket on his bed, and refuse to come out for the next fifty years! He was an embarrassment! He couldn't do anything right, he was the victim of constant humiliation and he wasn't even getting by all that well anymore.

His heart hammered in his chest. It never calmed when he was in public; he always had a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that he was going to embarrass himself and that people thought he was a bumbling idiot; even more so than Arthur – it was a cruel thought and he didn't want to be cruel to Arthur as he was sweet and caring and just generally brilliant, but the voice in his head was cruel. It was a… fear?… Probably the best way to describe it… of embarrassment and of being judged and scrutinised. Martin hated these feelings as they almost felt painful. They were oppressing to say the least. He always felt like running and hiding, and even crying, when he was humiliated by the crew MJN. But they were almost like family to him and, to be fair, they didn't realise how the taunts affected him. It was not their fault; they only saw the blush and lack of eye contact. It was his for being so pathetic!

How had Carolyn put it? Crippling shyness… Well, that didn't even begin to describe it. He hated social situations with a passion sometimes; especially small groups, dating, talking to strangers, and interviews. He was fine around the crew at MJN because he had gotten used to them and they were like family to him. He was also pleased that GERTI only sat sixteen; anymore and he would probably end up panicking.

He realised that he had reached the airfield now and the taxi came to a halt. He was glad it was a cargo flight today; no more people to worry about.

"Oh, hello Martin," Carolyn acknowledged as the Captain passed her to take his position and run through checks and flight plans and the like. That was when he saw it. People approaching GERTI! He frantically scanned the airfield in search of another plane that they could be approaching instead of GERTI, but had no such luck. "Oh, that's right. Change of plan. We are now escorting a hen party as they were willing to pay more and it has the opportunity for repeat bookings; so, at the last minute, I dropped the cargo flight and agreed to take these girls to Las Vegas. Are you quite alright Martin?"

No he wasn't 'alright'! He was paper white and had started sweating, feeling ill and fighting the instinct to curl into a little ball and cry! Luckily he suppressed the shaking he could feel wanting to come out; crossing his arms tightly in front of his chest. "Fine… Fine. I'm fine." Well that was believable. Carolyn gave him a scrutinising glance. Oh God, would she stop judging him?!

Carolyn sighed. She didn't believe him but they needed to take off soon and didn't have time for this. "Very well. Go do the job I pay you to do instead of idly chatting."

"You don't pay me…" Martin mumbled under his breath. Oh God, had he said that out loud?! A crimson blush crept its way to his cheeks but he soon strode away to GERTI to avoid Carolyn seeing.

"There you are, Martin. Glad you decided to show," Douglas smiled smugly.

"Y-Yes, w-well; I got… got caught up t-talking to… to Carolyn…" Martin stuttered. There were roars and hoots from the passengers already, oh no. His heart began to beat even faster.

"Are you alright?" Another scrutinising glance. What was wrong with people today?!

"F-Fine. Fine. Absolutely fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He was such an idiot.

"Are you sure, Captain?" Douglas didn't believe a word of it. Martin was obviously dishevelled, very pale, a sheen of sweat was across his brow and he was stuttering even more than usual.

"Y-Yes. Fine. I'm fine."

Thank God for Arthur! He came bounding in, cheerful as always. "Coffee, chaps!" He smiled. Oh, how Martin wished he could be like Arthur sometimes; always happy, always chipper. How Martin envied him.

"I-I'm f-fine, thank y-you, Arthur," Martin declined the coffee; Caffeine tended to make him feel worse and quickening his speeding heart even more.

"You ok, Skip?" Arthur tilted his head to the side, much like a small child would.

"Apparently, he's fine. Or, to quote our dear captain, he's 'F-Fine. Fine. Absolutely fine'," Douglas answered for him.

"It doesn't sound like he's fine, Douglas…" Arthur frowned.

Douglas took a deep breath. Patient. Patient when dealing with Arthur. "No, I didn't think so."

"J-Just shut up! I-I am fine!" Martin was making a fool of himself.

"What's all this racket about?!" Carolyn entered the flight deck.

"Apparently, Martin is 'F-Fine. Fine. Absolutely fine'…" Douglas and Carolyn gave him scrutinising looks again and Arthur stared.

"You really don't look fine, Martin…" Carolyn began. Martin stopped listening. He couldn't concentrate as his heart was fluttering in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe!

A few moments passed of Martin attempting to look normal; folding his arms tightly in front of his chest to try and hide the shaking. But then he felt a God-awful pain in his chest. It felt like someone had stabbed his heart with a knife and continued to twist. He clutched at his chest. He couldn't breathe! He was going to die! He shook and kept shaking, he couldn't stop! He needed help!

"Martin? Martin? Look at me!" Douglas was sounding uncharacteristically concerned. He fought to open his eyes against the pain.

"H-hurts… C-can't… B-breathe…" Martin struggled.

"Call an ambulance," Douglas ordered Carolyn. On any other day, at any other time, Martin would have found it funny. She left quickly, seeing the urgency of the situation; young men should not have chest pain.

"What's happening to Skip?!" Arthur was obviously distressed.

"He's having a severe panic attack. Go wait in the galley; the less people, the better. Inform the passengers there's been a change of plan. We aren't going to Las Vegas; Martin needs to go to hospital."

"But –"

"Arthur, I may be wrong but my track record shows I'm probably right. If it's what I think it is; Martin needs as few people as possible. So – Code red!" This was probably the only time in his life that Douglas didn't want to be right.

Arthur ran out of the room; only to stumble into a young woman wearing a short dress and a sash which read 'Maid of Honour'. She pushed past Arthur into the flight deck. "No! Wait! You can't –!" but it was too late. The lady was gone.

"Excuse me, but we've been waiting for a long time! What do you call this?! A –" She stopped in her tracks when she saw Martin. He was shaking, sweating and… crying.

"An emergency madam, yes." Douglas supplied in a snide comment. Martin looked up. Oh God, he hadn't seen her there! He was embarrassing himself again! He was an embarrassment, a clot, a –

Before he could finish his thought of self-loathing; his flight instinct took over. He tumbled off of his chair and scrambled to the furthest corner he could find with his brain fogged with desperation and fear. He curled in on himself. The woman was staring. She was judging. Why? Why? Why do people do that?!

"I hate to be rude madam but get out! Get out!" Douglas shouted, his usual calm slipped for a moment, but it was soon recovered. He ran to Martin side. "It's ok; it's going to be alright… Breathe, Martin."

"C-c-can't," Martin sobbed.

"Follow me; we need to stop you hyperventilating. In for five…" Douglas took a deep breath, Martin tried to follow but it ended in choking and sobbing from frustration.

"Nearly, come on captain, you can do this. In for five." Martin followed Douglas, managing this time. They held their breath for two seconds before Douglas instructed "Out for five." Martin followed Douglas again. "Ok, we're going to do that again. In for five," Martin followed again. "And out for five. Very good, Martin," It wasn't even a sarcastic 'very good'.

"I-I-I…" The captain stuttered.

"Don't talk. We're going to try breathing normally now. Focus on breathing, Martin." Martin tried to do as he was told; but then the pain sharpened. He grabbed hold of his chest.

Carolyn's head appeared through the door. "They said the ambulance will be here soon. How's Martin?"

"He was getting better. It's ok, Martin. Breathe. I know it hurts. Is the pain getting worse?" Martin nodded. His chest was so tight and painful. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Douglas refrained from touching him; if it was what he thought it was, it would only make matters worse. "Close the door. Let no one in apart from the paramedics. We've already had one unwelcome visitor, which is why we're now in the corner. Tell the paramedics that it is a suspected S.A.D attack. They'll know what procedure to follow."

"S.A.D?" Carolyn questioned.

"No time. Just do as I ask."

"Understood."

"I-It… H-hurts…" Martin struggled between sobs and laboured breaths.

"I know; it's going to be fine. Just focus on breathing and my voice. The paramedics will be here soon," Martin took a hitched breath and couldn't help but let out a frustrated sob. Why couldn't he just breathe?! Why was he being so pathetic?! "Martin, I'm going to take your pulse. Is that alright?"

Martin didn't want to be touched, but he also understood that it needed to be done; so he reluctantly nodded.

Douglas only ghosted his fingertips over Martin's pulse and could feel it was way too jumpy. "Martin, I need you to try your best to take some deep breaths. Your pulse is too fast and you need to slow it before you go into cardiac arrest. Can you answer these questions for me; just nod your head, ok?" Martin nodded. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

Martin nodded slightly. Douglas grabbed the bin nearby in case the nausea got worse.

"Are you dizzy? Light-headed?"

Another nod. "H-help. N-need… C-control… G-going… C-crazy…!"

"It's alright, Captain. Just breathe. Are you feeling cold? Are you feeling hot?"

Martin shook his head.

"Do you feel a tingling sensation?"

Martin nodded. "F-fingertips…"

"It's ok; that's normal. Do you want me to put my arm around you?"

Martin shook his head.

"That's fine. Don't worry."

The sound of sirens approached the plane. They were finally here. "Martin, the paramedics will be here in a little while. I need you to try and remain calm. Carolyn will tell them what they need to know."

Martin nodded.

Before Martin knew it, he was in the ambulance with an oxygen mask covering his face and wires were attached to him with sticky pads. Douglas was there, but kept his distance. He just kept assuring Martin that everything was ok when the machine he was hooked up to began to beep quicker; following Martin's heart rate.

"We need to sedate him," one of the paramedics informed Douglas, "Do we have consent?"

"Of course," Douglas answered.

Martin was stabbed in his arm with a needle; the rest of the ambulance ride was black.

Hey!

So, I've only recently gotten into Cabin Pressure and I've only listened to clips on YouTube, so sorry if I've got anything wrong. This idea has just been bugging me so much and it's got to a point where it's write the fiction or go insane; so I chose to write the fiction.

If I were you, I wouldn't Google S.A.D. Firstly, it spoils the plot a bit; and, secondly, there are two conditions known as S.A.D and I'm not going to reveal which one it is until the next chapter where Douglas' cryptic explanation IS explained. I will update soon (hopefully).

If I have offended anyone with this fiction; I am dreadfully sorry as it is not meant to offend. Also, I have had a panic attack before and this is my experience so if anything is wrong, I do apologise.

Lastly, please review! I love reviews as it lets me know people like my stories or tell me what I need to improve. Thanks! :)