Disclaimer: I do not own Cabin Pressure and am not making any profit by writing about it.

Warning: Spoilers for the whole series.

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Cabin Pressure:

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God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen, Part 1

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Martin closed the door to his room behind him and slowly walked over to his bed. He was so tired that he couldn´t think straight anymore; Carolyn had had her crew on a tight schedule for most of December, and he had only just returned from Taiwan. He wasn´t even sure which day it was, but the Christmas break must have started already, for the house had been dark and empty when he had returned. Abandoned. The students had gone home for the holidays. It was cold, too; the janitor probably had turned down the heating, assuming that no one was going to be there anyway.

Martin sank onto his bed, removing his tie and shoes with hands that were trembling with fatigue, but keeping on his coat, not caring whether it was going to crease. He closed his burning eyes and lay back, but despite his exhaustion, his mind wouldn´t let him rest.

He had had one day off, one blessed day in all of December, on which he had had a moving job. Instead of using the time to rest and regain some of his energy, or doing his laundry or write some Christmas cards- well, write one Christmas card, for there were no other people to send cards to except his mother, he had to be grateful to get a job on precisely that day.

And what a job it had been. The woman whose stuff he had moved seemed to own nothing but exceptionally heavy things. It had been sleeting that day, which hadn´t made the whole task easier. And then his van had broken down, causing him to arrive at his customer´s new address not only frozen and soaked but also much later than expected; he could still hear her shrill voice ringing through his head, calling him unprofessional (thank God Douglas hadn´t heard that) and refusing to pay the full price.

And now it was close to Christmas and he barely had any money left for this month. He didn´t have to work for MJN again until the 28th, which was a blessing but also worrisome; at least flying meant some decent food (as long as Arthur didn´t cook it), warmth, and company.

He ran his hand over his face, trying to will away any thoughts about how Christmas used to be and how, ever since he had gone against his father´s will and become a pilot, it had changed. It was as though it had ceased to exist. He didn´t talk to his siblings any longer, or rather they wouldn´t talk to him, and his mum had become someone who he merely exchanged the occasional card with.

She had been the only one who´d tried to understand Martin, but now Simon and Caitlin, who had never taken their youngest brother too seriously, had children of their own. Martin´s mother was afraid that she´d be cut off from her grandchildren if she spoke up, therefore she didn´t, it was a simple as that. Martin never expected that she´d do this to him, but on the other hand, she´d never been strong or able to fight for herself.

Maybe he should be glad, he told himself, because he didn´t have any money for Christmas presents anyway.

But somehow, gladness was not what came to his mind. He felt lonely and miserable and for once couldn´t euphemise it.

He was still worrying about money when he finally fell asleep.

Arthur Shappey looked into the mirror and wondered whether one day he would pull off a convincing Santa. Maybe when he was much older and had more wrinkles, and maybe even white hair. He grimaced; he really hoped he´d have white hair, not the dull greyish tone his father was sporting.

He was pulled out of these thoughts when Carolyn knocked on the bathroom door: "Arthur."

"Yes, mum?"

"Herc´s going to pick me up in five minutes. I put the shopping list on the table."

"Brilliant! Thanks, mum."

"Don´t forget to walk Snoopadoog."

"No, mum, I won´t."

"And you will be all right?"

"Yes, mum, don´t worry."

"Good boy. Well, see you on Christmas Eve."

"Have fun!"

After she had gone, Arthur turned back to the mirror one last time: "All right, Arthur Shappey- off to Christmas shopping!"

He was very excited about being in charge of the Christmas supplies; Carolyn and Herc were going on a pre-Christmas getaway for two days, to a secret location at that. It had been an early Christmas present from Herc and meant that Arthur had to do the shopping and preparations, which he didn´t mind. On the contrary, he was feeling very grown-up and only a little nervous about doing something wrong. But he did have a list, so he was going to be fine; as long as he didn´t lose the slip of paper, everything was going to go according to plan.

Martin awoke bleary-eyed and momentarily confused as to where he was, and why he still was in his clothes.

He slowly sat up when it all came back to him; he was freezing, and he was starving. And he needed a shower, to thaw his cold limbs. Stupid of him to fall asleep on the bed without a blanket. "Just goes to show, Crieff," he murmured.

Sneezing, he went into the bathroom; the water didn´t get more than lukewarm however, since the heating had been turned down, therefore the shower didn´t do much to warm him up.

Martin hurriedly dried himself off and got dressed. At least he´d have a hot tea. He clutched the mug with both hands, grateful for the warmth, while he pondered what to do. He could of course phone the janitor, but he was behind with the rent again and didn´t wish to draw attention to himself. So that was no option. He couldn´t buy a fan heater because he couldn´t afford it. He couldn´t camp out at the airfield because Carolyn had the keys both to the office and Gerti.

He was stuck here. Pride prevented him from borrowing money from anyone, and besides, he didn´t know when he´d be able to pay it back.

He went back to his room and took a warm sweater out of his wardrobe, which he put on over his thinner one. A brief assessment of his financial situation confirmed that he had indeed only about 40 pounds left. One look at the calendar confirmed that it was December 22nd. He´d need some money for gas, which left him with 10 pounds if he calculated in some emergency cash.

He took a long time at ASDA, in the end buying one loaf of toast, some oat flakes and milk. He considered some tangerines but decided against them; he wouldn´t die if he didn´t get any vitamins in the next few days.

He lingered in front of the medical section for a while; his throat was a little sore and he felt as though he had a cold coming on, wondering whether he could prevent it from getting worse. He finally took one packet of Ibuprofen and went to the cash desk.

At home, he took care of his laundry; after he had put the load into the machine, he went back to his room, where he looked around. A bed, a wardrobe, a shelf filled with books, a small table, a chair. Not much to show for 34, he thought to himself. He didn´t have any Christmas decorations either, not even one candle. He should have bought one, a tiny voice in his mind said. For a little festivity, at least. But another, more insistent voice objected: one candle isn´t going to change anything, and besides- Christmas is something I can´t afford anyway.

Martin nodded, staring at the empty table for a while. He took a thin folder from his shelf to update his removal business accountancy, and began to work on the annual financial statement; by the time he was done, the laundry was done as well. He put it on a clothes rack and made himself another tea and some toast.

Then, for want of anything better to do and because he really didn´t feel too well, he crawled back into bed, pulling the duvet over his head.

He spent the rest of the day in bed, as well as the next two. He had woken up in the night with an aching back, aching limbs and a head which felt as though it was going to explode soon, and had only fallen back asleep in the early morning. The cold which had sneaked up on him had grown into a fully blown one, and he only wanted to sleep. He was vaguely aware that his phone was ringing at one point, but he was also feeling very hot and tired and didn´t have the energy to get up anyway.

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To Be Continued

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Author´s notes: Hey all, thank you for reading and hopefully you´ve had a merry Christmas!

I´m aware that Martin´s probably not that bad off, and from what people have said about the coming 4th season, his mum and siblings very likely aren´t anywhere near the way I imagined them so far (how brilliant is it that Prunella Scales plays his mum?), but for now I´ll stick to my head canon, which for some reason always includes a little whump when concerning our favourite captain.

Furthermore, this fic is going to be several chapters long, most of which have already been written. The title of course refers to Arthur´s singing in 'Molokai'.

Please leave some feedback.