It wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, but it was, however, the first time someone else had been there with him.

And really, of all people, why Martin?

Better yet, why was he crying?

Douglas shakes his head as he climbs out of bed. It's all ridiculous; he's never put much stock into the significance of dreams - why should he start now?

Even if the dream is incredibly vivid.

He comes out of the bathroom to find his phone ringing, though he's not sure why; he was supposed to be at the airfield only fifteen minutes ago.

He lets it ring for a couple more seconds before picking it up,

"Missing me already, Carolyn?"

"I'll put it to you lightly, Douglas. I never miss you. Yes, I know, it's heartbreaking. There is one person I'm missing though, and that would be Martin."

"Ah. Well, I regret to inform you that my handy Martin tracking device is in for repairs."

"Shame that. Well, since I know you haven't left your house yet, you can go and retrieve our captain."

"Really Carolyn? He's a whole fifteen minutes late, I don't think that requires me dragging him in by the collar. Besides, I bet he's on his way already."

"I'm sorry, I'm unclear as to what point you are attempting to make."

"The point is, why should I waste time and petrol to go pick up our illustrious captain when he's probably pulling into the airfield as we speak?"

"Well considering the fact that it's nearly twenty past seven, 'your time' is, in fact, currently mine. And, coincidentally enough, your petrol also belongs to me. Unless you want to lose both your source of fuel and your job I suggest you do as I say."

"Oh no need for dramatics, Carolyn. I'll go get him but I expect for this to be time that I'm paid for."

"In your dreams," she replies and immediately hangs up.

*

Pulling up to the student house and seeing Martin's van still parked out front was somewhat surprising to Douglas; he'd been fully expecting a call from Carolyn telling him to abort his mission and head for the airfield, Martin has arrived. Now he sees it's a call that wasn't going to be made.

It is a bit worrying seeing that Martin is still at home - it isn't like him to skip out on work and then not tell anyone. But he doesn't dwell on it for too long: with his luck, Martin's phone had probably flung itself out of the window just so that he wouldn't have an alarm in the morning. God moves in mysterious ways in order to do lovely things for Douglas Richardson; however, for Martin Crieff, he makes sure to make things especially difficult.

Making his way up to Martin's poor excuse for a flat was an adventure in itself: college students - some hungover, some just woken up, some already silently studying - prowled the halls, sweatshirts and shoes of dubious cleanliness laid strewn about, and cups sat on various shelves. It was no wonder Martin had likely slept in, it looked like there had been a party of massive proportions last night.

He opens the door to find that his captain is, in fact, asleep. He's lying face down on the bed and he's, somehow, ignoring the phone not two feet from his head that's currently emitting what must be the most annoying ringtone in existence.

He rolls his eyes and makes his way across the sparse room to the bed. He contemplates taking a picture of Martin for later blackmail but opts for simply waking him up.

He nudges him none too gently and says, "Just because you've gone deaf, Sir, doesn't mean you get to skip coming into work today."

Martin doesn't respond.

Douglas tries again, shaking his shoulder even harder. "Martin," he says. "As much as I hate to break it to you, you're going to have to wake up and face Carolyn's wrath sooner or later. I'm sure both you and my eardrums would much prefer 'sooner'."

When that doesn't work Douglas steps back and takes a moment to make sure that Martin is, in fact, breathing - he's becoming more worried than he'd like to admit. "Martin," he whispers, shaking his head a bit. But before he can step forward to try once more to rouse him, Martin's whole body jerks.

"What," he asks, his voice muffled by the pillow. He turns his face and Douglas notes the prominent tear tracks on his face.

Douglas tamps down his previous worry as well as the surprise at seeing that Martin was crying and, instead of answering, stares pointedly at the still-ringing phone. Martin blinks a few times and finally seems to realize that his phone's alarm is still going off.

He groans when he sees the time: almost a quarter until eight. "Well that explains why you're here," he says, looking back at Douglas with bleary eyes. "I imagine Carolyn's not impressed."

It wasn't a question but Douglas answers anyway, "That's putting it kindly. I take it you had a bit of a late night?"

Martin laughs, "It was certainly loud but nothing I'm not used to by now. I thought I had gotten to bed at a reasonable hour, though. I'm not sure how I'll explain this to Carolyn, I can't even say my alarm stopped wo-. Oh." Douglas watches as Martin brings his hands down from his face, examining his now-damp fingers.

"Bad dream then, Sir?"

Martin stays quiet for a bit and Douglas sees a strange look pass over his face before he chuckles and replies, "I don't even remember. I suppose we should be off then."

Douglas backs away as Martin makes to stand up. "Right," he says. "There's no point in both of us driving so I'll provide us both with transportation. How long will it take you to get ready?"

"Not too long - a few minutes tops."

"Alright," Douglas replies, turning around to leave, "I'll just wait in my car." But before he can make it to the door, Martin cries out.

Douglas quickly spins around and watches as Martin clutches his chest and falls to his knees.

"Martin," he yells, and rushes over to where he is. "Martin what's wrong, what hurts?"

Martin's face is contorted in pain and Douglas sits by helplessly as he gasps and grips his chest a little bit tighter again and again.

"Martin, I'm calling 999, I need you to tell me what's going on."

"Don't," he grinds out, staring intently at Douglas.

"Don't what? Don't call? Martin it's obvious you're in need of medical assistance."

But Martin just shakes his head. "Don't...," he says again, "I...don't...need...it."

"Excuse me if I don't trust your medical wisdom. You're going to the hospital."

"Douglas...," he starts but is cut off by another gasp of pain. Though this time, his hand unclenches and his eyes roll back in his head. Douglas just barely manages to catch him when he pitches forward, unconscious.

He sits taking Martin's vitals over and over again for the four minutes it takes for the ambulance to arrive.