Hello - First, a disclaimer. Everything you see is the brainchild of Mr Finnemore.

On with the show. This will be multi-chapter, but short chapters. The idea comes from a prompt by Ashtrees. I've decided to keep this within my Deborah Richardson AU. So, I hope you enjoy.

A Slight Abnormality

One

It had been a hard month. The hardest that Martin Crieff had endured in all of his six years of life.

His foul mood has started, in fact, on his sixth birthday. Any other time of the year, nobody would have noticed him sniffling or grumbling (Martin was always pouty and independent when he didn't get his way, something that his parents had learnt early on) but this was the one time of year that he was supposed to be cheerful.

That was why Mummy had been so insistent that Martin get out of the house and go to the park with Simon and Caitlin. Martin hadn't wanted to go. He would have rather stayed indoors and re-read the picture books that he had been bought, about an elephant that flew all around the world in his inaccurate but funny plane.

The park was fun when Mummy and Daddy went with him; they always played and paid him lots of attention. When they weren't there, however, none of the other children filled their place. None of the other children played with him.

Martin didn't know the other children, but they didn't seem to know each other either. They just seemed to meet and play within moments. But Martin didn't know how to go and talk to them or convince them to play with him. It would have been nice though…so Martin didn't want to go.

They made him go anyway, kicking and pouting behind Simon while Caitlin huffed at his side.

In rebellion, Martin sat on the edge of the grass, his trainers on the concrete, one hand on his knees while the other pushed under his nose, and he watched everyone else play and run and scream. Simon was climbing the monkey bars with a boy that he had met for the first time that morning. Caitlin was spinning around and around on the roundabout.

Martin didn't want to watch her. The spinning was making him feel sick more than the remnants of the temper tantrum that he had thrown when Mummy had made him leave the house.

Martin wouldn't say no to her though. That would mean telling her what was wrong. He didn't want to tell her in case she thought he was silly.

It had started on his birthday. They had thrown him a party – no children. Just his cousins, and even they ignored him when the balloons came out. Martin had enjoyed himself though. Mummy and Daddy had bought him a model aeroplane and told him to be really careful with it.

He had known how to be careful.

Then it had all gone wrong.

One of his aunts had sat down at Martin's side, a plate of cocktail sausages in her hands, and asked him lots of questions. She cooed at how old he was getting. She asked Martin what he wanted to do now that he was getting older.

"I-I-I want, I want to be an aeroplane!" Martin had exclaimed, holding up his model for her to look at, "Not like this one, b-but a, a different plane."

His aunt had let out a raucous guffaw, and Martin's heart had dropped.

"You can't be a plane!" she had squawked, slapping her hand on her knee.

"W-w-why not?" Martin had mumbled, lips wobbling as he clutched his toy to his chest.

"Because planes are machines." His aunt had laughed, shaking her head and smiling even as Martin's joy faded, "You're not a machine. You're a little boy."

Even though it was rude, Martin had run away, tears in his eyes, and hidden under the kitchen table. He wasn't allowed to hide in the treehouse anymore. Not since he had tried to fly in the plane that he had built.

Martin was still sad; too sad, even a month on, to enjoy the park anymore.

Hands on Martin's arms made him jump, and Martin's legs were kicking in the air before he realised that it was Simon, lifting him up from the ground. Simon, as always, ignored his furious shouts.

"Come on, Marty, cheer up!" Simon yelled, hoisting Martin into his arms and swinging him around, up into the air and back down again, then back up above his shoulders, "You're flying!"

"Put me down!" Martin shrieked, kicking out at nothing, hurling his arms around, unable to free himself, "Please! Put me down!"

"But you're flying – just like a plane!" Simon insisted, and he didn't stop swinging him around, "You like planes."

"I don't wanna be a plane!" Martin cried, eyes hot as he began to tear up; he slammed his pudgy fists over his eyes as they started to burn, and the fight went out of him, "Put me down, p-p-please."

Simon dropped him straight away and Martin was so surprised that he fell onto his backside. Martin pulled himself up, pushing at the dirt on his trousers, sniffling as he looked up at the strange expression on Simon's face.

"What do you mean you don't want to be a plane?" Simon asked, bending at the knees so that they were on an equal level, "You always wanted to be a plane. That's all you ever talk about."

"I-I-I'm not made of metal." Martin snuffled, dropping his head to stare at his feet, hands clenching at his sides; he felt like he was being inspected, like the soldiers in the films that Daddy liked to watch, "Planes, th-they had metal a-and wings, a-and engines. I-I don't have wings, s-so I can't be a plane, o-or go flying."

"You can still go flying." Simon replied, blinking as if dazed, and he reached down to pat Martin's shoulder.

"H-how?" Martin stammered, gripped by desperation. He didn't want the other children to see how sad he was, but he couldn't help it.

"Who do you think flies the planes?" Simon snorted, "Pilots fly planes like Dad drives the van."

"Could I be a pilot?" Martin gaped at his brother, mouth falling open. He had never known this before. No one had ever told him.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Simon answered, shrugging his shoulders, oblivious to the wonderment that had seized his younger brother, "How about this? Would you like to go on the roundabout?"

Martin was so flushed with amazement that he just nodded and allowed Simon to pick him up and carry him to the roundabout. He didn't complain as Simon made sure he was secured and began running around, spinning him slowly at first.

A pilot.

Of course. He could fly the planes. Why hadn't he thought about it before? It was the only thing that made any sense!

Martin gripped the metal bars when he felt himself slipping, and blinked in wonder as Simon laughed and spun him a little faster.

A pilot…

It was like the clouds had parted and he sun was shining on his face. This was something that Martin had to do. He could dedicate his whole life to it. When teachers asked what job he wanted, he could say – I want to be a pilot! It was already everything that he wanted to do with his life.

Martin beamed as he span around and around, getting dizzier and dizzier. He had learnt something new about himself – he was destined to be a pilot.

Unfortunately, Martin also learnt another thing about himself that day. The faster the roundabout span, the more the world around him started to blur and his ears began to ring. Martin's head went fuzzy as he grew dizzier and dizzier and spots filled his vision.

It was a bit like flying –

- the next thing Martin was aware of was Simon and Caitlin leaning over him as he laid back on the ground.

Martin was terrified, of course…until he saw a plane pootling through the sky. While Simon hastily told Caitlin to stay where she was while he got Mummy, Martin giggled to himself. No amount of terror about his health could quash the brilliance of his epiphany.

A pilot!

I hope you enjoyed that. More to come. Thank you for reading.