A/N: Warning for transphobia, including misgendering and deadnaming. Also graphic transphobic violence described at the end.

This was written before the episodes involving Martin's family were aired, so it's ignoring Martin's canon family.

Like my other works, this is unbeta'd and it was hard to proofread for personal reasons, so if anything's unclear, please let me know.

Carolyn pushed open the door and came onto the flight deck with the flattering greeting of "Hello idiots."

"Hello Carolyn," Douglas drawled and Martin nodded a "Yes, hello!" from the captain's seat.

"The passenger's all settled. Go ahead and bing-bong."

"Alright then."

*bing*bong*

"Hello and welcome aboard MJN air. This is your captain speaking, Captain Martin Crieff, along with First Officer Doulgas Richardson. We will be fl-"

"Janice?" A muffled shout could be heard from the cabin. Douglas furrowed his brow, but Martin stiffened noticably and inhaled sharply. It had been years since he had been called that. His finger pressed on the cabin address button pressed harder until the tip of his finger was white. He leaned forward and whispered.

"Martin."

Martin knew what the passenger's response would be and went ahead and answered it."No, it's definitely Martin." He jerked his finger off the address button. He knew he had to face her. He had wished he never would, but of course that was't going to happen. He scrubbed a hand across his forehead and through his hair and breathed deeply and stood up.

"Martin."

Martin looked sideways, distracted. Douglas was watching him with one eyebrow raised. Martin just shook his head and left the flight deck. Carolyn was right outside with Arthur and Martin gripped his hands into fists by his sides.

"Could you please go to the galley, Carolyn? Arthur?"

"What? Of course not!" Carolyn said indignantly.

"Please." Martin's voice cracked and Carolyn looked at him shrewdly.

"Fine. Come along, Arthur."

"Okay mum."

Martin walked out into the cabin and stopped in front of the only occupied seat. The woman sitting there had greying brown hair and a severe look on her face.

"Janice." She said curtly.

"Martin. I've told you, it's Martin."

"You really should stop this nonsense it's been 20 years, Janice."

"It's not nonsense. Dad didn't think it was nonsense. But I guess that doesn't matter now, does it? Who is he?"

"David Miller."

"Rich, is he?"

She ignored him. "I see you've changed."

"Only for the better. It's been 20 years."

"Your voice."

"Is mine. Do you have something to fucking say about it?" Martin gritted out.

His mother looked slightly shocked by his use of a swear word. "So I see you finally managed to become a pilot."

"Yes. No thanks to you."

"How many times did you have to take that silly test?"

"Seven."

"I guess you didn't know planes as well as you thought you did, Janice."

"It wasn't that. And it's Martin."

A flash of comprehension through her eyes. "Oh, so it was that then? I told you it was stupid."

"Even if I hadn't, there are women pilots."

"Not women pilots who's heads were stuffed with the silly idea that they're men."

"Well apparently there are, because I'm the pilot, the CAPTAIN, on this airline."

"How did they even let you take the test anyway, Janice?"

"Martin. I broke the tester's nose, and after I took it, I got my license."

"Figures you'd use violence. How did you get a job here?"

"Skill."

"She doesn't pay you, does she, Janice? That ghastly old woman who said she was the CEO. I'll bet she doesn't even know."

"Fuck off. My name's fucking Martin. There's a reason it's been 20 years."

"There's a reason old man Crieff never gave you any money. He always was dissappointed in you, even if he didn't say it."

"That's a lie, and you know it."

"Who knows the ways of a dead man, Janice. How do you survive? Prostitution? No, they'd never take you."

"I live in an attic. I move stuff with dad's van. And don't even fucking bring up prostitution, you know what happened."

"What did happen?" She got a nasty glint in her eye.

Martin breathed out slowly, trying to lower his anger before he answered. "I ended up in the hospital for two weeks after being found almost dead in an alley."

"Didn't take well to you, did they Janice? It's your own fault."

"It's. Martin." He growled, his voice as low as it could go. He rubbed his face and turned away.

"Have fun flying your aeroplane, Janice."

"After this, never come near me again."

He marched back through the galley, face flushed with anger, ignoring that Douglas, Carolyn, and Arthur had been watching and listening the whole time, and sat down hard in the captain's chair. His chair.

He spread his hands over the dashboard and whispered to himself.

"Captain's chair. My chair. I'm the captain. I'm a pilot. Captain Martin Crieff. Martin. Crieff." His hands clenched and his face fell and he put his head in his hands and could feel the tears on his cheeks. He heard the squeak of Douglas sitting down in his chair.

"Take off checks complete." Martin said, pulling his hands away from his face and straightening in his seat. He flipped a switch and gripped the wheel, looking ahead. "Let's fly some plane."

Martin's mother departed without a word.

A week or two later.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's all right."

Martin looked up wearily. Douglas was watching him with an impassive look on his face.

"No. No." He shook his head as if to clear it. "You deserve to know."

Douglas raised an eyebrow, which amounted to "I'm very intrigued. Please continue."

"I. Used to be Janice." He looked down at the controls. "I always felt different anyway. My name was too pretty. It didn't fit. My body, it didn't fit. When I was 17 I finally caught on as to why. I," He took a deep breath, and looked out into the sky. "I asked my parents to call me Martin instead. My Dad said it fit. Said it was a good choice. That I had found my name." Martin smiled slightly at the memory. "My mother, needless to say, didn't feel the same way." Martin looked at the wheel, at his sleeves. He was a captain.

"When I went to take my CPL, I had already had the operation. After I had submitted my name and answers, they found out my old name. They failed me. Every. Time. When I went to take it the seventh, I had gotten so tired of it already. The man waving us through took one look at my ID and was about to say something smart, and I punched him in the nose. Broke it, actually. The first time I've ever hit someone. When I submitted my answers that time I had mysteriously passed with full marks. Attached was a note telling me to never come back. Ever." Martin tapped his fingers on his chin as he thought about it.

He sighed as he went on to the next part. "Before I got my job here, I was on the brink of death. I didn't have a job, I didn't have any money, I didn't even have shelter. Literally all I had to my name was one pair of clothes. My shoes were worn out so bad they were basically sandals. I was... desperate. I went out on the corner and tried soliciting. I got a couple of bucks before they realized it was false advertising."

He bared his teeth grimly, in what couldn't be mistaken for a smile. "He and his friends beat me up and left me for dead. My arm and leg were broken, my nose as well, my body was so covered with bruises and cuts that I was purple black and red all over. I think he snapped four of my ribs. No wait, it was five. Some person going home found me unconcious and brought me to the hospital. I didn't even wake up until six days later. And after that they had me on so many meds I could barely bat an eyelash without tiring myself out. They found my card and called Caitlin and Simon and Dad and.. her. Dad paid the hospital bills and didn't even leave the hospital until I got better. Simon and Caitlin came, gave me all the money they could spare. They couldn't stay long, they were living in another city and weren't even able to get there until the second week. Dad wouldn't talk about the time I was asleep, he only shushed me and smiled and comforted me. While he was getting lunch on my last day in the hospital, Caitlin told me the doctors said my heart has stopped three times, and once it was so bad they were going to declare me dead if the next try at the paddles didn't work. It did though."