And here we have Martin whump (what can I say, I love hurt/comfort). This story involves some intense torture; someone on the meme said it was more descriptive than they'd been expecting, so please consider yourself warned.

I intended this as gen but it's an extremely tight friendship so you can really interpret this however you like!

How could this have happened…

How did such a promising prospect turn into something so utterly horrible?

"Oh boys!"

Douglas looked up from his book, eyeing his CEO suspiciously. There were few things in the world that could make Carolyn practically prance out of the closet she called an office, none of which were good for him.

Both Martin and Arthur looked at her expectantly – Martin wearing the same suspicious look on his face that Douglas was sure he had on his own.

After a few moments of silence (probably made so as to deliberately annoy her audience, namely, Douglas), she began.

"Standby is so dreadfully dull, isn't it?"

Martin straightened up, "We've only been on standby for two d-"

Carolyn held up her hand, glaring Martin into silence.

"Now, as I was saying. Standby is extremely boring and not particularly lucrative which is why I have some fantastic news!"

Douglas rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming and didn't like it one bit. He was tired and was looking forward to going home at a reasonable hour, as he usually did during standby days. Even Martin seemed to be exhausted from their incessant flight schedule of the last few weeks.

"You'll all be happy to know that Mr. Atkins is, once again, in need of our services."

"Ah, the nefarious Nathaniel Atkins; once again ruining my plans of a few quiet evenings at home. Pray tell, Carolyn, what exactly does this man do, again, that requires so much international travel?"

Carolyn shot another glare in Douglas's direction, though the effect was less than what she'd probably hoped for. After a few minutes of pointed staring, she sighed and answered. "Douglas, you know as well as I do that Mr. Atkins speaks little of his career. All I know which is, coincidentally, the same amount of information as you, is that he works in the government. We will not bother the man with such petty talk so long as he continues to use our company." She stopped a moment to rub her hands together. Douglas was, for a moment, reminded of a child in a candy store carrying unlimited funds. "Mr. Atkins could be the sole saviour of MJN. With all the flights he's been booking and will likely continue to book, our lovely little airdot will finally be, dare I say it, in the green."

Martin perked up a bit. Douglas could tell he was excited at the prospect of the company having money with which to pay him.

Carolyn glanced at Martin and rolled her eyes, "Now don't get too excited. This is only assuming the man continues to fly with us. Which means, Martin, no random delays, no diversions, nothing! We cannot afford to annoy or inconvenience Mr. Atkins, understood?"

Martin nodded, looking particularly cowed.

"And as for you Mr. Richardson!" Douglas merely raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. "No idiot games like, for example, passenger derby. No annoying the customer with your 'jokes' that you, and only you, believe are funny. In fact, stay off the intercom altogether. The last thing I need is Mr. Atkins complaining about snarky comments made by the ever-egotistical 'sky god'. Understood?"

"Ever-egotistical? Carolyn you wound me."

"Mum, Mum! What about me! What do you want me to not-do on the flight," Arthur asked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Actually Arthur, you're staying with me. Mr. Atkins told me that he didn't believe a steward was necessary on this flight since he'd likely be sleeping or working the whole way. He's flown with us enough to know where the drinks are, anyway, should he need one."

At this, Arthur deflated a bit, but immediately perked back up, "Oh boy! It'll be like a mother-son adventure. This will be so much fun Mum! What do you want to do? Oh I know! I'll make a list and we can choose what to do. Brilliant!" Arthur ran off into Carolyn's office, apparently with the pretense of "making the list" on her whiteboard.

"My, Carolyn, allowing the passenger to get his own drinks? Is that not against regulation?"

"Bah regulation, our company barely complies with any rules as it is."

In the background, Martin spluttered, "C-C-Carolyn! You can't. It's not safe for the passenger to be walking about the plane all on his own, let alone use the cupboards in the galley!"

"Frankly, Martin, I don't care. Mr. Atkins is paying us a large sum of money to fly him to Turkey in peace and quiet. If he happens to grab a bottled water out of the front, it's of no difference to me. Now. I have the files and your itineraries all printed up. Martin, you fill out the paperwork and then you're all free to go. You're heading to Dalaman, Turkey and will need to be here for the flight at 6 o'clock sharp. And by god, Douglas, if you're late, so help me."

"Honestly, Carolyn, he's flown with us many times before, what's so different now?"

"He may or may not have alluded to needing many more flights over the course of the next, oh, five months. Flights we won't get if he doesn't like the way we operate. He's dealt with our antics up to this point, yes, but I'd rather not push our luck. Now, get prepared for tomorrow, and I will see you both in the morning."

Douglas pulled into the parking lot nearest the portacabin at precisely 6:15 am; he'd never been on-time to a single MJN flight but the incentive of confirmed future employment was enough to make him arrive slightly earlier than usual.

Carolyn was, as he had been expecting, standing with her arms crossed at the entrance to the building; apparently attempting to burn a hole through Douglas's tinted windows with her eyes. As far as Douglas could tell, however, the client had not yet arrived so he had nothing to worry about.

"He's due to arrive in fifteen minutes. Now go help Martin with the preparations for the flight."

"What? No scolding? Aren't you going to send me to time-out, Mother?"

"Seeing as how I was expecting you to arrive here fifteen minutes later than you did, I'm not nearly as angry as I could be."

Douglas smirked, "Did you hear that? I think that might have been the collective sigh of relief from every human being within a three mile radius." He took a few steps in the direction of the plane, "I'll be back for the rest of the paperwork in a bit, then."

"No need, Martin has got it all taken care of. I've already bid him farewell, and now to you too. You can both set out for takeoff as soon as you see that Mr. Atkins is properly seated."

"My, my, how brisk. And here I was hoping for a packed lunch and a goodbye kiss."

Carolyn rolled her eyes and sighed. "Douglas, just get on the plane. Martin's probably on his third walkaround by now."

"Ah, Douglas, finally. Here, take this."

Douglas reached forward and plucked his itinerary from Martin's hand. Martin was doing preliminary checks (probably for the hundredth time) and barely spared Douglas a glance.

"Someone seems a bit edgy this morning. Too much of Arthur's 'made-with-love' specialty coffee?"

Martin looked up for a moment before turning back to the control panel, "Arthur's not here Douglas."

"Hm then it's something else. Let's make a list, shall we? Now, what could possibly make Martin so tightly-wound on the morning of a flight? Well…more tightly-wound than usual."

"Just trying to make sure everything's going to be ok. Mr. Atkins actually seems to like us - he even chats with me sometimes. I'd rather like to keep on his good side."

"Well I think we'll be fine. He would not be flying with us so much had he had any qualms. Now, it looks like the man has arrived. I'm going to go back and make sure he gets sat down properly, seeing as how we don't have a steward to do that for us, and we can take off."

The trip to Turkey was actually quite pleasant, though the landing left something to be desired. Douglas could tell that Martin was still kicking himself for touching down to Earth as if the plane were one gigantic bouncy-ball. He'd even apologised several (thousand) times to the client, though Mr. Atkins had simply chuckled and assured him it was all right.

Now they found themselves at the hotel, opening the door to their shared room.

"Well," said Douglas as he walked inside. "This place is a bit nicer than usual, I'll give her that. But a shared room when we're the only ones here? Honestly, MJN will be in the green and this will still be our predicament."

Martin chuckled, "Oh stop complaining, Douglas. Besides, we'll probably hardly be in here anyway. We've got four days to ourselves while Mr. Atkins does his business."

"Mmm yes, four days which I intend to use to both work on my extraordinary tan and see some of the sights this town of Dalaman has to offer. It's not often we get to fly to Turkey."

Martin nodded, already looking out the window. Douglas knew they boy was short on funds and would probably just wander the small town instead of actually doing anything. In fact, he'd probably end up coming back to the hotel for a cheap meal whenever he was hungry. Now, that was no way to vacation; perhaps he could bring Martin along, at least for the first day or so.

"You know, Martin, there's a lovely tour that takes us over to some historic sights on the Kapıdağ Peninsula. Historic ruins are something I appreciate, though they're not very fun when one is alone. Perhaps you'd like to join me? That is if you're not too tired from the flight, of course."

"Douglas…I can't really, um, I'll just. I'll just wander around; maybe head to the beach or something."

"If you're worried about the cost, think nothing of it. The tour is extremely cheap and, since I've invited you, I'll cover it. Now get changed, we're heading out in twenty minutes."

The ruins of Kyra were actually quite gorgeous and following the tour, Martin and Douglas headed out to eat at a small restaurant near the docks.

Douglas recognised some of the other tourists from the boat ride sitting not too far away. He recalled that they hadn't been the most amiable; all three of the men had sat still and quiet throughout most of the excursion. In fact, should he be willing to admit it to himself, they made him a bit uneasy. He'd prefer to leave their company as soon as possible following the meal.

When Martin had finished his meal (and had thanked him for the fifth time since entering the restaurant), Douglas stood and led Martin back out to the docks. They were practically empty, not helping his uneasy feeling much at all.

It was a short walk back to the road, one that seemed never-ending the farther they got.

You're being ridiculous, Richardson. This is a tiny town on a Thursday evening - of course it's going to be a bit empty. His thoughts, however, didn't help his mood at all and he found himself rushing along, Martin scrambling to keep up.

"Douglas! Slow down, what's gotten into you?"

Douglas didn't even look back, instead focusing on the road that he could now see. "I'm just a bit tired, Martin. And seeing as how taxis are a rare beast in this city, I'd like to get back to the road and have the chance of getting one sooner, rather than later."

Martin slowed for a second, reaching for his phone, "If you're so worried we can just call one. Here, I've got my phone, I can find the number and –"

Douglas spun around upon hearing Martin cut off and the soft oomph sound that followed. He watched in slow motion as a man drew a now empty syringe from Martin's neck. The look of blind panic on his face was immediately relaxed into one of complete unconsciousness.

"MARTIN!"

Douglas stepped forward: he'd grab Martin's now-slack body from the man and make a run for it.

Instead, his plans were cut short when two pairs of strong hands grabbed each of his arms, propelling him backwards.

"Stop! Let me go, for god's sake…Martin!"

Douglas was dragged to the ground and watched helplessly as Martin was bundled into the boot of an idle car. He struggled a bit more until he felt a needle pierce his skin, at which point he went still – afraid that the needle would break otherwise.

The last thing he saw before falling into unconsciousness was the smiling face of one of the three tourists from the restaurant.