Denial was something Carolyn had always been good at. Denial was what had allowed her to push on through both of her marriages, and each of the messy divorces that had followed; it was no wonder that she was more than happy to never ever mention, allude, or hint at what she now referred to only as 'the Kuala Lumpur incident' – just like she tried not to think of all the money she was wasting on MJN Air, all for the sake of being anything but a little old woman.

When Nigel finally retired, she genuinely thought that would be the end of it. She couldn't believe her luck when Martin Crieff walked through the door; the poor man was so desperate to be a Captain that he was willing to fly for no salary at all – which was something she had mixed feelings about, but she was in no position to do the right thing and pay him like she was supposed to.

And so they carried on. It was soon apparent that Martin was no Nigel, and would never manage to handle Douglas the way the previous Captain had; their petty rivalry made for an entertaining distraction at first, and then it slowly turned into a tentative friendship built on camaraderie more than anything else. As for herself – well, she would rather die than admit it out loud, but she didn't find their company entirely unpleasant most of the time.

Arthur, on the other hand, loved every second of it. He once told her that he couldn't think of anything better to do than flying with the lot of them; Carolyn might be many things, but she was above all a mother, and obviously the happiness of her only son was of paramount importance to her. The boy happened to like both of her pilots more than he did with other people – which was saying something, given Arthur's friendly disposition – and this fact alone was worth every penny of the three mortgages she had on her house, even without the added bonus of being the owner and manager of her own company.

They were like a family, in their own weird kind of way; and for all that she liked to pretend she just didn't care, she always kept a discreet eye on each of her pilots, watching out for signs they might need some help they were unwilling to ask for. She for one got the wind up of Douglas's impending divorce far before the man himself reluctantly shared this piece of information with the rest of the crew, but it wasn't until she caught him staring with intent at her glass of gin and tonic that she grew seriously concerned about his mental state and everything that could entail.

"I'm fine, Carolyn," the First Officer snapped before she could do so much as open her mouth. "I promise I'm not about to fall back on old habits, if that's what you're worried about."

She merely raised a disbelieving eyebrow, crossing her arms for good measure. "You do realise you sound about as reassuring as Martin, do you?"

"Please," he laughed, humourlessly. "Give me a little credit, oh Sir of Sirs."

"Douglas, I'm not talking to you as your employer. I am talking to you as a friend."

"Friend?" he scoffed. "When have we ever been friends?"

Carolyn made a conscious effort not to repress her impulse to step closer and place a firm hand on his shoulder. "Listen to this, Douglas, because I will never ever say it again. I may on occasion disapprove of your actions, your manners, or both of those things at once; but I still consider myself as your friend, at least for my part."

He flinched momentarily at the contact, then looked as if he was fighting the instinct to lean further into her touch. "I am not exactly what people refer to as 'good friend material'. Or anything else, really."

The sudden vulnerability in his voice made her melt a little. "Don't be ridiculous. Your wife leaving you for another man doesn't make you any less of a good person, as you know perfectly well."

His eyes narrowed at her blunt statement. "She didn't leave me. I left her."

"Of course you did," she agreed with a noncommittal shrug. "Well done, you."

He searched her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked at length, and if she had been any other woman she would have pretended not to understand what he was talking about.

She wasn't any other woman though, and she cut to the chase as was her wont. "For goodness's sake, Douglas. It was a one-time thing, as I believe you were very clear about. Were you seriously expecting me to call?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "That was your first divorce, not mine."

And there it was, the unfamiliar tenderness that threatened to get the better of her. "At least I never got around to needing a third one. I may, however, return the favour, if you happen to be so inclined."

The look he shot her could be described as wary at best, if not mistrustful. "Hang on, are you – suggesting?"

"If you're amenable," she shrugged, her tone as calm as if she was merely offering to give him a lift home.

"This is a very bad idea," he said slowly, his palm hovering about her cheek in an almost caress.

"Agreed," she nodded. "Your place, or mine?"

"Yours," he muttered in a hoarse whisper, and she thanked her lucky star that Arthur wouldn't be home tonight.