Hello everyone. Thank you for reading and reviewing - I haven't put times on this chapter, because I'm not that familiar with flight training -however, there are vague allusions.
Chapter Four
It wasn't a big wedding, they couldn't afford that, even with Dad offering to cover a fraction of the expenses; Zach still had medical school, and Debbie was starting flight-school, so there was barely time enough on a free weekend to dress up and gather a few people at the registrar's office, let alone afford a honeymoon.
The most apt word that Debbie could decide upon was nerve-wracking; with the peripherally sour mood from her family (though Zach's parents were thrilled at how 'lovely' his girlfriend was), and the magnitude of the event, she made it to her wedding day, lungs filled with air that moved like cotton wool, and hands unable to stop from winding restlessly around each other.
Nevertheless, she and Zach had moved into a new flat, which was further from the medical school, but near enough that Debbie could get on the train at a reasonable time and arrive before her lessons started, and now they were in separate rooms, preparing to tie the knot, and make their relationship official. Debbie didn't have bridesmaids, although Nora had arrived as a guest, so all she had to keep her company in her rented dressing room was Archie, who was even less enjoyable to be around than he normally was.
The moment that he had laid eyes on his sister, Archie had announced that she looked beautiful, but that he could make it better; so Debbie stood in the middle of the room, listening to Archie grumble as he pricked and pulled at her small white dress, pinning this fold here, and that skirt there, doing quite a good job to her chagrin.
"I don't agree with this, Debbie." Archie informed her, as he did something clever to the threads of her skirt so that it rested more elegantly around the base of her knees instead of her ankles; the pouting frown that adorned his lips remained resolute, "I really don't."
"You don't have to agree with it, you just have to keep your mouth shut during the ceremony." Debbie replied curtly, far beyond the point of caring what he had to say; she was an adult, and she wanted to go ahead with the wedding, and it didn't matter what he said, she wasn't going to swayed from that point. It would be good for her to have someone that she knew would be at home when she needed to talk, or just wanted some company; the rest they could work out later.
"Don't worry, I won't say anything." Archie assured her, grimacing as he rose from his knees to fiddle with the shoulder straps; there wasn't a lot that he could do, but Debbie was sure that he was only prevaricating so that he could keep her there longer, "Although, I haven't had a chance to properly talk to the lad."
"Oh, what's wrong now?" Debbie sighed, fighting the temptation to run her hand through her hair; it would take too long to put back to rights for a fit of pique to be worth it, "What has Zach done in the short time you've known him to deserve a talking to?"
"Nothing." Archie retorted, meeting her gaze and pursing his lips as if he were holding back a derisory scoff, "I'm just highly aware that he is an eighteen year old medical student that wants to get married."
"Whatever; you be that way." Debbie remarked dryly, averting her eyes so that she could stare pointedly at the corner of the ceiling while he fiddled and adjusted her dress; he couldn't object that much, as he or he wouldn't have been so insistent that he be consulted about her choice of attire, "Dad's okay with this."
"Dad's not happy, but you're an adult, so he can't do anything to stop it." Archie countered, his throat visibly bobbing as he forced himself to hold his tongue, "Besides, he'd rather you had someone to look after you now that you've tossed medical school…as you're set against letting us help you."
"You'd look after me would you?" Debbie snorted, and glared accusingly at him; tease her, perhaps, but Archie wasn't the sort of man to cling to family ties and affectionate responsibility, and he never had been, "After all the times you've demonstrated your desire to 'look after me'?"
"I shouldn't have to look after my little sister, it's not my job." Archie replied matter-of-factly, just as she had known that he would; then, to her bewilderment, he sighed, and dropped his gaze to work more furiously at ruffling the high sleeve of her dress, "But, sadly, I would, if you asked, because for some reason I actually care about what happens to you."
"Since when?" Debbie demanded, her brow furrowing with disbelief as she watched his hands plucking at the material; actually seeing him admit to anything would be more embarrassing for both of them than simply hearing it.
"Do you remember when you were ten, and Mum and Dad forgot to pick me up from the bus station because you fell and fractured your elbow?" Archie inquired in lieu of an explanation; he waited for Debbie to nod slowly and narrow her eyes at him before he continued, "Well, all they told me was that you were in hospital, so while I was thinking 'what's the idiot done now', my stomach suddenly felt all sick."
"And you reckon that that's what caring feels like?" Debbie replied, grimacing at the very idea of it, as well as the implication that Archie had actually worried about her for a fraction of a second; she was almost glad that she didn't have any younger siblings to feel sick over, "That's horrible."
"You mean you don't feel that kind of worry when Zach gets a paper cut or isn't home on time?" Archie inquired, pausing in his work, hands still on her dress, so that he could lift his head and meet her gaze; the lack of any mirth in his eyes made something uncomfortable clench in Debbie's chest.
"I guess…of course I worry." Debbie assured him, lifting her arms to curl them around her chest, only to Archie bat them away; instead, her palms found purchase clinging to the skirt of her dress, "I love him."
"Sure…" Archie grumbled, but he said no more on the matter; that wasn't right, not at all, not from someone who always had something to say nowadays.
"What about the rest of it?" Debbie demanded curtly, fighting not to tap her feet impatiently; she was beginning to feel restless, as if everything would be fine once she got to leave this room and sign the relevant documents, before anyone else could stick their nose in.
"What rest of it?" Archie responded apathetically, even sounding bored of their discussion, as he clucked his tongue at the stitching; there couldn't have been anything left to adjust, but he continued inspecting every inch of material just in case, "I'm letting the matter lie, because I can't think of how to stop you from doing this frankly idiotic thing."
"Yes, I know that; thank you for not ruining my wedding." Debbie drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes and pouting, but making no effort to brush him away; it wouldn't hurt to stay and talk a little longer, even if she was practically jittering, "I meant the rest of it…there's always more."
"You mean the flight school?" Archie asked, his eyebrows rising, and his voice actually brightening slightly as he stood back and surveyed his work, "This may shock you Debbie, but I actually wish you well with that."
"Really?" Debbie replied, momentarily stunned into stillness; this promised to be a monumental moment that had never occurred before, and probably never would again, "You think that I can do it?"
"Of course you can do it; you could do anything if you really wanted to." Archie noted, his expression pinching as he placed his hands on his hips and the reached forwards to tug at a fold of her dress, then stepped back again; perhaps not meeting her eye made it easier for him to say such nice things, "I think it'll be a good fit for you, being a pilot; something about it just seems right."
"Yes, it does doesn't it?" Debbie remarked, unable to keep the warm smirk from leeching onto her lips, as her chest filled with a pleasant sort of fluttering as she thought about it; she wound her fingers together at her front, and allowed herself to vocalise what she hadn't yet, eve to Zach, "I'm actually quite excited. You know, I think that lack of excitement should have been fair warning that medicine isn't my area."
"Perhaps." Archie agreed, nodding as if he were reluctant to do so, an almost truncated dip of his chin, "Do you know exactly what needs to be done?"
"I need to do the PPL first, which involves a medical certification, and then nine theoretical exams," Debbie replied quickly, allowing herself to smile properly as she narrowed her eyes in thought; she had been through all of the requirements of her course, and something about it made her confidence peak into almost elated heights, despite how vigorous the workload would be, "and then I have to complete forty five hours of flight training with an instructor before I can take the test."
"That doesn't sound too bad." Archie remarked fairly, striding around her to pluck his abandoned suit jacket from the chair that he had thrown it over upon entering the room; Debbie span on her heel to follow his path, "You pick up new skills like the wind; I have no doubt that you'll ace the written and the practical exams."
"Exactly." Debbie assured him, smirking with self-confidence; it wasn't even a question whether she could do it, "And if I'm a quick learner, then I could even get that over and done with in a matter of months, six at the most."
"And when you've done that?" Archie prompted, as he leant back against the chair that he had retrieved his jacket from and slipped his hands into his pockets; he was a nosy bugger, but Debbie was too proud of herself to care much in that moment.
"It's the CPL, which is two hundred hours flight training, and ten hours training with the instruments." Debbie explained excitedly, wild hand movements and all, "I've been talking to the staff at the school, and I reckon that if I can hire one of the tutors for extra studying, I can fit at least five hours a day of flying in once I've learned the basics, which would mean I'll have met the requirements within two months."
"But let's call it six…better not to get ahead of ourselves." Archie interjected, scrunching his nose in the superior manner than he had perfected, "So after that you can start looking at jobs at proper airlines?"
"Precisely." Debbie remarked, imagining that she could almost taste her success already, just a few exams down the road; she had time, but she was going to do it quickly, all the better for proving to Dad that she was able to look after herself, and all the better for proving to everyone that she deserved the respect that she would be demanding.
"So you're looking forward to this?" Archie inquired, his face open and honest, his eyes wide as if he really cared about what she did with her life; this unusual bout of concern, that had lasted for about a year now, was beginning to wear on her, "You really want to be a pilot?"
"I don't really want to do much of anything…" Debbie admitted reluctantly, with a faint shrug of her shoulders; she listened to the rustle of her dress instead of focusing on the dreary gap in amongst the heated thrill in her chest, "I want to have fun, and just the idea of getting to fly planes to faraway places is the most fun I've had in ages. Think of all the things I could do!"
"Alright, I get it." Archie conceded, raising his palms into the air in a facsimile of surrender; then his expression shifted, and Debbie knew that she wouldn't like what he had to say next, "You do understand thought that it might not be as fun as you think it is…it's a very male dominated industry."
"Which I am going to take by storm." Debbie replied shortly, swallowing hard against the lump of trepidation that appeared unbidden in her throat; this wasn't something she wanted to think about.
"I believe you." Archie assented, but he still looking uncomfortable, his eyes dragging along the floor instead of meeting hers, "The fact is though Debbie, that no matter how incredibly skilled, and how talented, and how confident a woman is…there's always that one man that will try to talk you into bed and ignore the fact that you actually have a little thing called integrity."
"I know…" Debbie assured him, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her middle; it wasn't exactly something that she had missed, when for every young man that was drawn in by her allure and tried to buy her drinks, there was another one that ignored her declarations of engagement and tried to smarm up to her or touch her anyway, "That won't stop me though."
"Of course." Archie replied, nodding stiltedly, but ploughing onwards nonetheless, "I just need to know that you'll be able to deal with that."
"You want me to promise that I won't be harassed or jump into bed with another pilot?" Debbie inquired, pursing her lips and tilting her chin just a tad more into the air; now she was the one with the moral high-ground, looking across at him judgementally.
"No, you can sleep with whoever you like…although after today, I'd think twice." Archie remarked, quirking his eyebrows when she rolled her eyes at him; he was insufferable, "What I want you to promise, is that you are sure you want to deal with that emotional strain."
"Archie, I promise, if a man tries to patronise me, or touch me, or demean my position because I'm a girl, I will personally put them back in their place…and remove their hands if necessary." Debbie answered his implied request with a schooled expression and a measured tone, meaning every word of it; she had thought about all of that, and it was part of the reason that she was so determined to rush through the course, just to prove that she could.
"Okay…" Archie didn't sound convinced, but he nodded and pushed away from the chair regardless, giving her the once over and twisting his lips before announcing that, "I think you're done."
"Fantastic. Let's…" Debbie replied, clapping her hands together; she was about to declare that they go through and get her married, but something about the way that Archie was looking at her made her pause, as a cold weight dropped into her stomach, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason…" Archie assured her, shaking his head and plastering on a smile that was obviously forced; that only made the sinking in Debbie's stomach grow all the more pronounced, "It's just that you don't look nearly as excited about your wedding as you did the idea of becoming a pilot."
oOoOoOo
For all that Dad and Archie had been lecturing her, Debbie didn't think that married life was all that difficult; it wasn't much like she had expected it to be either, not after watching the structured rigidity of her parents' marriage, and the apathetic but business-like nature of fictional married couples. In fact, being married to Zach was easy, and it meant that after a long day working herself to the bone to try and be the best in her class, there was someone to sit and have dinner with, and to curl up with at night.
After months of marriage, they had slipped into a comfortable pattern; they didn't see each other during the day due to differing timetables, and when they came home, it was easy to go about their own projects, and then come back together at the end of the day, and at weekends, when there were no distractions.
When the time came for Debbie to be taking her PPL exams however, their time together would slim, and they had to arrange extra special activities for the two of them to spend time together. Not that she minded; it was difficult stuff, but she was excelling in the technical learning, which just gave her an even greater itch to finish and don a smart uniform, and fly here there and everywhere.
"You know, I don't understand a word of that." Zach remarked one evening, a confused pinch to his features as he examined the tea table, across which Debbie had spread her notes in order that she could lean over them and commit every word to memory, "There's a lot of technical jargon…I bet you know what it all means though."
"Yes, yes I do." Debbie replied distractedly, nevertheless preening in the hopeful edge to his tone, as if he were congratulating her for something that he didn't quite understand; for once, she could relish the fact that she really deserved that praise, as she really did understand and love what she was learning.
"Is it important?" Zach inquired, and she recognised that deflective yet enticing tone of voice; he was fishing, as he rocked on his heels, for her attention, even though it was masked in a show of interest.
"I need to be able to memorise it for the exam next week." Debbie answered, glancing up from the table that she had been drawing with weights and calculations painstakingly etched in; any show of interest was flattering, as Zach was as willing to sit and listen to her talk about this as she was willing to listen to him talk about his medical course, "It's nothing that I don't already know, but Dad reckons that if I look the information over in a different arrangement than I learnt it, then I less chance of going blank when I'm taking the test."
"Oh…" Zach exclaimed faintly, his brow furrowing as he ran his eyes over her writing; Debbie hoped that the look on his face as he pulled out a chair beside her and lowered himself into it was confusion, and not disappointment, "so it's not homework, it's just extra studying."
"Exactly. I don't need it, but I'd rather be safe than uncertain at this stage." Debbie explained, gesturing to the rest of her papers; she supposed that it was the evening, and that was their time, but needs must, and they were both engaged in difficult courses, "Don't you have things you should be doing?"
"I made sure to finish the immediate stuff yesterday so that I'd have time to romance you tonight." Zach remarked, not quite as brightly as he would have normally; he must have been tired from rushing all of his work, "I thought that we could go out, do drinks, then come back and-"
"Zach, I'm sorry, but I can't; not this week." Debbie apologised, genuinely regretting that she was letting him down; she placed a comforting hand on his wrist, but he didn't turn his hand to embrace hers, "When I'm doing this kind of revision, I need to be clear headed, and I need to cover an area a night or I'll miss a part of my schedule."
That was entirely true; she couldn't risk it. Ever since she had started flight school, Debbie had been drinking less, very deliberately; she had never been the sort of person that binged, or spent the next day hung over, but she just couldn't risk having her judgement impaired. The time that she spent flying was some of the most thrilling she had spent in her life, and Debbie couldn't allow herself to be even slightly drunk when she did so; she'd still knock a few back at weekends, and in the evenings, but she always, always stopped when she was still lucid enough to know that she had had enough.
"You've made a schedule?" Zach repeated, completely missing the point of what she had said, distracted by insignificant factors, as he was wont to do, "That's new…you've never done that before."
"Well, as you know, I normally just go with the flow." Debbie remarked, proudly nodding towards her work, which she had spent hours getting perfect, so that she wouldn't have to think too hard during the actual exam, "But, during exam times, I scribble up a quick schedule, so that I can't lag. It's taped to the inside of the wardrobe door."
"Oh, okay…that's alright I suppose." Zach replied slowly, nodding as the cogs turned behind his eyes; Debbie watched tentatively as his smile reasserted itself, and he turned his hand over in hers, giving it a little squeeze before rising to his feet, "I can't wait to see you as a proper pilot, ready for adventure."
"Hmmm..." Debbie hummed in agreement, a pleasant warmth settling once more in her chest at his steady anticipation; he may not understand, but he was there for her, and that was all that mattered, "I'm nearly finished you know. There's no reason why we couldn't stay in, and I could make it up to you."
"Now that sounds like a plan." Zach declared, and with that he stepped forwards and placed a kiss atop Debbie's head, before wandering from the room and plucking a medical journal from the floor where he had left it.
oOoOoOo
"Zach!" Debbie declared, as she swanned into their sitting area, arm outstretched, and a wide smile on her face; all things considered, it didn't matter what anyone said behind her back, she was having a good day, "Guess who is the most talented flyer that her instructor has seen in over two decades…be warned, he has helped a lot of people practice for their CPLs."
"I really hope it's you." Zach teased, as he looked up from the book that his nose had previously been buried in, sitting cross-legged on the sofa; he looked frazzled, but he was smiling, as if he were truly proud of her without ever needing to hear exactly what she had done right.
"Then you're in luck." Debbie beamed, dropping her bag onto the floor and striding across the room to drop onto the sofa beside him; he pushed his books out of the way, and turned so that she could tuck her feet in against his knees.
"Wow…well done." Zach praised her; his smile lingered on his lips, but he raised his eyebrows as if amused by her reaction, "You seem a bit excited about that; I thought that you thought you were going to breeze through it."
"Oh, I am more than breezing, I am positively gusting." Debbie drawled, relishing the surge of heat that tingled from her lungs through her pores; then she realised that Zach was still watching her with that bemused expression, and felt a lump of defensiveness catch in her throat, despite her good mood, "There's no harm in taking a little pride in oneself every now and again."
"No, of course not." Zach assured her, any trace of doubt gone so quickly that Debbie thought she must have been imagining it, a projection of her own ever fading nerves; he leaned forwards to peck at her lips, and then sat back again, gazing indulgently at her, "You're amazing, I never doubted you for a minute."
"Thank you." Debbie replied coyly; remembering that the world ticked on regardless of her success, she sighed, and nodded towards the books that were threatening to topple over the precarious edge of the sofa, "Do you have a lot to be getting on with?"
"Yeah, a bit." Zach grimaced, and shrugged his shoulders; it wasn't hard to tell that he was going to try and put it off, now that he had a reason, "That's alright though, we can-"
"No, we can't." Debbie interrupted, slipping her legs from the sofa lest he get any different ideas; she was doing well, but Zach needed to get his head down if he was serious about passing his upcoming tests, "If you need to study, then you need to study; I'm not dragging you out to the pub if it'll mean you don't hear half of your lectures tomorrow."
"Thank you." Zach replied, though Debbie thought that the light in his eyes dimmed just a tad, as if he would rather be out at the pub with her than knuckling down and actually learning for a career that he had dreamed of since he was a boy; he smiled though, and patted her knee, as he told her that, "You are amazing."
oOoOoOo
First day on the job…this was it…she had actually done it! It wasn't a big airline, but it was popular, and had listened to her old instructor's recommendations, if the speed with which they snapped Debbie up was any indication.
Debbie turned in front of the mirror, tugging and flattening her new uniform, a charming shade of dark blue that complimented her new hair-cut and darker colour perfectly; for the first time in her life, despite what she had been telling people, Debbie looked at herself, and saw an adult, a proper woman in professional garb…and she couldn't decide whether to beam or to cry at how perfect that was.
That would show Dad and Archie, and if Mum were still around she would have to admit that her daughter had done rather well, even against dropping medical school; no one could deny the fact that upon finishing flight school, the staff were picking her ahead of the boys, even when just a year beforehand they had been singling out the lesser talented students than her based on her gender alone.
Nobody did that anymore. She wasn't a fool; Debbie knew that she would have to remain cool and professional in order to get respect, but it wouldn't take long for her exemplary skills to outshine everyone else's, to the point that only a fool would consider her lesser.
"Is this it?" Zach asked as he appeared in the doorway, a small figure in the mirror; he was grinning, and grew larger as he approached, his hands extended as if he were afraid to touch her out of reverence, but desperately wanted to.
"What do you mean is this it?" Debbie snorted, adjusting her hat atop her head, and smirking into the mirror; it was good to see him as excited about something as she was for once, "I got the job! So long as I do well here for a few months, I could get them to give me a reference for Air England – that's as high as it's possible for any pilot as young as me to go!"
"Wow, that's great." Zach acknowledged, coming close enough that she could turn in his arms, and step back for him to take a better look at her in all her glory, "I meant the uniform, as in wow, is this it, because I've been waiting for this moment. You look gorgeous!"
"And the epitome of impressive professionalism?" Debbie asked, hoping that she didn't sound as curt as she felt, as her fingers traced along the opposite epaulet, and found purchase; he meant well, but she didn't really care about how she looked. Gorgeous was good, but Debbie was willing to go to work in a plastic bag if it got her respect regardless of her appearance.
"Very impressive." Zach assured her, his eyes still wandering up and down her figure, as the smile warmed his face until he might have been glowing; he met her eyes and winked, "I can picture it now – you, ruling the skies."
"I plan to." Debbie promised, smirking as she turned back to the mirror, and took a deep breath; she was a good pilot, that much she was sure of. Day one couldn't be that difficult, especially as her Captain probably wouldn't let her do much flying…but after that, she was going to soar.
oOoOoOo
Why anyone had thought that Narsarsuaq Airport in Greenland, with its short runway, at the end of which sat a large lake, was a good location to allocate to a pilot that had only been flying a week was beyond Debbie's sense of logic; the fact that her Captain, the fifth this week due to the way that the airline rotated its hundreds of staff, had asked her to take the landing in the rain, with a massive crosswind, was almost inconceivable.
They hadn't crashed…not quite. The plane was mostly on the runway, and it was only the nose that was partially submerged within the lake; she had seen worse landings…on air crash investigation. Nevertheless, Debbie couldn't help but stare, breath held in her lungs, through the window that was still being lashed with rain, her hands clenched painfully around the controls.
"It's alright, love." The voice of her Captain, a man in his early fifties, managed to pierce the fugue state that she had tumbled into; if Debbie hadn't been trying to get her brain to speed out of sluggishness, she might have smarted at the endearment as she turned to look at the greying, wrinkled face, "I reckon you can let go of the controls now."
"Yes…well…" Debbie remarked, clearing her throat as she released the controls, stiffly so as not to seem more affected than she was, her racing heart nicely hidden within her chest, where no one could see it pounding, "I dare anyone to say that that wasn't a landing."
"Oh, yeah." The Captain exclaimed brightly, almost chuckling as he watched her take subtle breaths to calm herself, "All things considered, that was very good actually."
"All things considered?" Debbie repeated curtly, turning to stare the man in the eye; the indignation that sparked in her chest wasn't easy to temper, but she did it.
Over the past week, she had found that aggressive sexism was a rare occurrence; rare, but it did happen. What wasn't rare however was this, the flippant putting down of her efforts and her skills because 'wow, she's a woman, look at that'; cool and unconcerned though, that was what she had to be. They weren't being cruel, they just needed educating; so cool and unconcerned, take their praise, and then prove just how good she really was, that was how she had to swallow this new world.
"Yeah. That's a tricky landing for anyone, with this bloody runway." The Captain replied, blowing air through his lips as his eyebrows rose in amazement; Debbie pressed her lips into a thin line, reminding herself that he wasn't being rude, he just didn't realise that there was no impediment, "I'm actually really impressed that you managed it; I'll make sure to note it down for you, so that the bosses know that you're up for the bigger and better flights."
"Thank you…" Debbie forced herself not to grit her teeth, and smiled wanly; it was only the start, of course people couldn't tell that she was good because of who she was, and not in spite of, "I really appreciate that."
Once the post-landing checks were completed, Debbie wandered out into the Cabin to watch the last of the passengers filter through and out, gathering their luggage from the overheads; she must not have noticed that there was still someone in the toilet behind the aisle, as when she was leaning against one of the seats, she was jolted from her silent musings by a sharp clap on her behind.
"Oi!" Debbie snapped after the man that hurried past her, and out through the door; a part of her wanted to chase him down and demand an apology, but the rest of her was content to retract into herself, her arms wrapping around her chest as she scowled at the space left behind. How dare he! She was his pilot, for Christ's sake!
"I'd just ignore them if I were you." Debbie turned at the sound of a woman's voice, only to find herself face with a woman in her mid-twenties, dressed in her stewardess' uniform, and smirking in what could only be called an unfriendly way as she rested her curled hand on her hip, "I think they'd rather you were back here, with us."
"An interesting thought, I'm sure." Debbie drawled, plastering on a sarcastic, and perhaps hopeful, smile; despite her efforts, the way that the stewardess was looking at her made her stomach churn and her chest clench more than the men's wolf-whistles when she had done the cabin announcement, "Might make flying the plane a bit difficult though."
"Sure…" the stewardess, replied, sneering at her as she passed by just a little too close for comfort, "Don't go thinking you're some sort of grand though, just 'cos you're in the front seat."
Unsure of how to react, as she watched the woman's back disappear into the Galley, Debbie simply took a deep breath, steeled herself, and took a seat where she could wait for the Captain to appear ready to leave. She couldn't please everyone…Debbie knew that…right now though it was quite hard to try and maintain a cool and unconcerned façade.
oOoOoOo
"No, Zach, I'm tired." Debbie grumbled, batting away the arms that came around her, as Zach crawled into bed beside her; she wasn't in the mood for a hug, or anything that he was probably thinking of, "I just want to go to sleep."
It had been a month, and she was still uncertain of where she stood with most of her colleagues; due to the nature of the company, Debbie rarely saw the same cabin crew or pilot twice, which only made it harder for her to make a lasting impression. It was exhausting, but she was determined; she knew that she was a good pilot, and if only half of the people that she met appreciated that, then Debbie just had to work harder.
In addition, some of her friends from school had got back in contact with her, having heard from someone that Debbie didn't care to find out who, that she was a pilot now, and likely to turn up in their countries sooner or later; talking to them, and meeting them for drinks when she happened to be in a bar near them, was as taxing as the job itself. It would have been nicer, if she hadn't felt as if they wanted something from her that they weren't yet ready to reveal.
"But you're away for the next two days." Zach retorted irritably, nevertheless withdrawing his arms and falling back on the opposite side of the bed; Debbie didn't like to disappoint him, but it was too late at night to be dealing with him.
"And I was away today." Debbie replied, keeping her eyes firmly closed, "I'm tired."
oOoOoOo
The airport was busy, but Debbie was able to navigate it quite well by now; once in the pilot's lounge, it was simply a case of finding your colleague for the day. Today was going to be a short flight, back and forth before nightfall, but she was still tired; Debbie had agreed to go out with Zach the night before, and the man at security had been a little too forward when she had arrived at work…to say that her nerves were frayed was an understatement.
Which was probably why, upon locating her Captain, Debbie didn't react quite as patiently as she might have done.
"Whoa there!" the Captain, a balding man in his late thirties exclaimed when he caught sight of her, and his eyes wandered up and down, giving her the once over as a wicked, disgusting smirk curled at his lips, "Are you sure you're not wearing the wrong uniform sweetheart?"
Normally when Debbie was accosted with such unabashed sexism, she could remained cool and unconcerned, and pretend that nothing had been said, brushing the matter off with a cold smile, only to outdo the culprit in the flight-deck and put them in their place. However, today a flash of anger roared in her chest, and though cool and controlled as ever, she couldn't help but bite back, putting him in his place.
"Quite sure," Debbie replied coldly, standing as tall as she could with her heels together, chin up, and glaring at the man with her lips pressed tightly together; it would be little work to cut him down to size with a few carefully chosen words, "but if your eyesight's that faulty, I'm sure I could find a replacement Captain while the chief pilot books you in for a renewed sight test."
"Whatever, no worries." The Captain scoffed, shaking his head and waving a finger at her, as one might a child; he might not have heard her at all for the sake of the patronising edge to his tone, "I'll have none of that lip on the flight-deck, you hear? A bit of respect would be nice, especially in front of the passengers."
"Of course." Debbie drawled darkly, smirking up at him as she folded her arms securely over her chest; today wasn't the day to be crossing her, not when she was seriously considering just punching the man and flying to Sicily by herself, "I'm sure the passengers would love to see their pilots treating each other with the proper amount of respect. I'll be sure to follow your lead on that-"
"Listen, missy, you're lucky to even be on this flight." The Captain spoke loud and clear, his eyebrows raised as if she were the one overstepping her bounds; as if she hadn't already impressed most of his senior officers, and been allocated more flights than any of the other new recruits, "If it were up to me, you wouldn't be, because you're too inexperienced, and too temperamental-"
"And skilled enough that I was put on this flight by your superiors," Debbie interrupted, not quite raising her voice, but enunciating her words clearly as she glared at him, aware that people were beginning to glance their way; she didn't care what this ridiculous man thought, Debbie knew that she deserved respect, and today was not the day to be denying it, "and chosen over the heads of men that have been here a lot longer than I have, so I think-"
"I think you should keep your trap shut, do as you're told on the flight-deck, and just let me handle things." The Captain sneered, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and swaying on his heels in such a way that it pushed out his chest; that he was a good foot taller than her did cross Debbie's mind, but anger pushed it away swiftly, "Don't think for a minute that I'm going to pander to you, just because you think you're better than the other tarts in the Cabin."
"Like it or not, I am your colleague, and you will treat me as such." Debbie retorted sharply, inhaling deeply in order to centre herself; it wasn't as if she hadn't had more vicious arguments with Archie before, "Believe me, I have no qualms about-"
"How dare you-" the Captain began to growl, and Debbie thought for a moment that he was about to yell, or lash out given the way that his hands were clenching; he never got the chance, as a shout shattered the tension that had sprouted between them, and Debbie jumped slightly as a pilot clad in the same uniform as them almost skidded to her side.
"Steve!" the intruder gasped, hastily catching his breath as he held one hand out towards the Captain; while Debbie took in the fact that he had mousy hair and appeared to be in his mid-thirties, she also noted that his other arm, although positioned around her back, was very deliberately not touching her, as the man glanced between the two of them, "Steve, take a step back and remember where you are."
"This slut-" the Captain hissed, addressing the new man alone, but pointed demonstratively at Debbie.
"This young woman must have been very upset by what you said to her." The new pilot cut him off, speaking smoothly and calmly; Debbie was too busy swallowing the mess of nerves that had sprung in her chest the moment that she wasn't fighting any longer, to do much more than glare at the Captain, "I wasn't listening too closely, but don't you think it would be best to apologise before you have to fly a plane with her?"
"I'm not apologising." The Captain snapped, scrunching his face up; the new man opened his mouth, but Debbie seized her chance, and tried to regain whatever semblance of control that she had possessed a moment before, no matter how grateful she was that things hadn't gone any further.
"I can handle this." Debbie informed the man, holding her head high and pursing her lips; she couldn't let someone else fight her battles for her, not while so many people were watching…in fact, she could never let that occur, not while she wanted to maintain her integrity.
"Of course you can." The man nodded, and with that he lowered his arm from where it had been hovering, but did not move away; Debbie watched him for a moment more, as he respectfully lowered his gaze from hers, before speaking again.
"I don't want an apology – I don't need one, you're not sorry." Debbie informed the Captain, smirking at the stubborn antipathy that crossed his face, and he pouted; she didn't have to be big and strong to stand up for herself, she just needed men like him to know that she wouldn't stand for their nonsense, "But do bear in mind that I have no qualms about crying harassment...for my sake, and for any unfortunate members of the cabin crew that you happen to annoy."
"That's a damn cowardly move." The Captain growled; to Debbie's disdain, his eyes kept flickering to that of the other man, as if he was expecting him to step in and tell her that such action wasn't necessary.
"That's what the harassment policy is there for." Debbie remarked wryly, relishing the rush of triumph that heated her pores at the way that the Captain's expression fell; he was finally beginning to understand that she wouldn't suffer fools, "Don't get me wrong, I can shout at you until the cows come home…but I'm small, and young, and you're obviously not so easily cowed as most people."
"Well now, isn't that nicely sorted out?" the new pilot interjected before the Captain could say another word, quirking his eyebrows as if to say that if he didn't agree to her terms, then there would be repercussions.
"Fine, but I'll be putting this in a report." The Captain replied gruffly, digging his hands into his pockets and glaring at the floor; his shame only served to make Debbie all the more confident.
"Be my guest." Debbie drawled, narrowing her eyes at him, nevertheless pulling her arms tightly around her chest as surreptitiously as possible; it was no matter to her, not when the people reading the reports had already been dazzled by her abilities, "It'll be interesting to see what this looked like from your eyes; I have always been fascinated by the psychology of idiots."
"This flight, and the one back, and then I'm not flying with her again." The Captain declared, as if that were some sort of ultimatum; if it wasn't for the fact that again he spoke to the man beside her, Debbie would have laughed in his face.
As it was, the Captain strode away in a huff, and she watched his back retreating as the iron band around her lungs eased, making it easier to breathe the cool air of the lounge without worrying that she might say something that she would regret. Sighing, and letting her eyes fall closed for only a moment, Debbie turned to address the man at her side, who was watching the Captain leave with a face that spoke of nothing but despair at human kind.
"Thank you." Debbie announced as politely as she could, pushing her hair behind her ears as she spoke; the man glance back at her, eyes wide and brow leaping as he awaited the conclusion that was so obviously coming, "I didn't need help, but thank you all the same."
"I'm sure you would have fought valiantly had that been allowed to dissolve into a full on screaming match." The man noted smarmily, rolling his eyes at her; it was hard to take offence, as he wasn't looking her up and down as many people would, and was holding her gaze perfectly as he asked, the epitome of concern, "Are you sure you're going to be alright flying with him?"
"Yes, of course." Debbie replied, smirking sardonically; no rude bastard was going to stop her doing her job, "If he bothers me, I'll just threaten to crash the plane; I've found that works rather well."
"Yes, I imagine it would." The man muttered good naturedly, nevertheless quirking an eyebrow at her as if waiting for her to tell him that she was only joking; when she simply blinked expectantly at him, he cleared his throat and hooked his hands behind his back, "Well, I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again-"
"Moving on to better things?" Debbie inquired, as was the polite thing to do when someone had bothered to stand up for you; she didn't really care, but there was never any harm in being nice.
"Air England in fact." The man informed her, bristling with pride, his chest puffing out ever so slightly; Debbie nodded, and he continued, receiving her message loud and clear, "Anyway, I'll let you get on with your day." He extended his hand for her to shake, "Herc Shipwright."
"Debbie Richardson." Debbie replied, taking his hand and shaking it with a strong grip, sharp and short, accompanied by a small smile; this was good actually, one could always use allies in high places, even if they only had a name.
With that Herc Shipwright tipped his hat, and with a last cursory smile, was gone. Now all Debbie had to do was try and work out how to survive the flight without murdering her Captain; it would be her murdering him, and not the other way around.
oOoOoOo
Eighteen months; that was longer than anyone had given them, and further than Debbie had been able to peer into the future. And yet, when the hammer fell, she wasn't expecting it. It had been a long day, a lot of which she had spent wondering whether Zach had done well in the test that he had been working towards, yet when she walked through the door of their flat, she expected everything to be okay.
The lights were on, and Zach was sitting at the table, and there were books stacked neatly instead of strewn everywhere; he had been listening to her, she thought as she took it all in and slipped off her uniform jacket, hooking it on the back of the door. Debbie smiled as Zach rose to his feet, but couldn't make herself come any closer when she saw that expression on his face, the guilty one that he often got, but with a sadder edge to it, far too little light in his eyes.
"Debbie, we need to split up." Zach announced softly, yet certainly, as he stood as still as she had ever seen him, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans; she heard what he said, but it was like his words didn't breach the membrane of her mind far enough to do much more than stun her to a halt.
"What?" Debbie asked, blinked blearily as if trying to see and hear through cotton wool; on some level, she must have understood what he said, because her heart rate increased to the point that her lungs struggled to keep up with the extra work, "Zach, what are you going on about?"
"I don't think that this is working." Zach elaborated reluctantly, going so far as to shrug weakly with his hands still in his pockets; he didn't meet her eyes, but instead gazed unfocused at the floor, "Us being married I mean…it doesn't even feel like we're married."
"Hold on…I've just come home from a long day at work, and all you've got to say to me is that you don't want to be with me anymore?" Debbie inquired dully, raising her hands into the air, and then lowering them, then wrapping her arms around her chest; something in her mind was screaming, though she couldn't' quite hear it over the wash of shivering pain that flooded her lungs, "I don't understand what you're saying to me."
"Debbie, I'm sorry, I really am-" Zach tried to explain, though he didn't sound sorry; he sounded like he had been caught out when he had never intended to be, as if he were trying to make excuses, "I've been sitting here trying to work out what I should do, and this seemed like-"
"Like you should break up with me?" Debbie asked, shaking her head and pressing her lips into a thin line, staring wide eyed at him; she didn't know what to do, she didn't even know what she was thinking, other than that this wasn't right, not at all, not even a little bit, "Why?"
"Because I don't love you anymore!" Zach snapped, then grimaced at himself, extracting a hand from his pocket to push across his face; he made to take a step towards her, but Debbie shook her head and strode the other way, so that the sofa was between them, "No…that was mean, I'm sorry…I care about you, but…"
"But what?" Debbie demanded shortly, inhaling sharply and setting her shoulders back, fuelled by another rush of defensive anger; having something solid between them helped somewhat, as if by clearing her mind, "I haven't changed – in fact, I am nothing but honest with you."
"Yeah…that's what's…I….that's why I'm…" Zach stammered and mumbled, turning his head this way and that, not meeting her eyes even once, and not making a lot of sense; it was as if he couldn't even stir up the guts to talk to her properly, "It's probably me, almost entirely me actually…but you're not…this isn't what I expected when I asked you to marry me."
That was what did it; that was all it took for fury to clear Debbie's mind of the blurring agonising panic that had been begging to know what was going on. At least when the men at work insulted her, they did it while looking her in the eye; Zach had never been the most impressive of men, but she had always thought that he wasn't such a coward that he couldn't let her down to her face.
"What isn't?" Debbie snapped, glaring at him from across the room; inwardly, she was fighting between her love for him, however much of it still existed after months of existing around each other, and the impulsive need to fight back, "Be precise, Zach, before I have time to think of all the ways that you're not what I expected."
"I don't want you anymore." Zach replied as if this were a reasonable thing to say, as he threw his hands out either side of him; he lifted his gaze long enough to look Debbie in the eye, gulping as he did so, "That's it, I just don't want you anymore."
"Why?" Debbie demanded, schooling her expression and measuring her tone; she had to stay calm, because she still couldn't quite process the idea of just going along with what he was saying to her, "You said that you'd support me-"
"I did support you, all through flight-school." Zach insisted, running a hand through his blond hair; that wasn't enough, not nearly enough, but he seemed to think that that meant something. It had meant something, or Debbie had thought that it had, at the time.
"And I've been supporting you through medical school." Debbie countered, holding herself together as she rested her hands on the back of the sofa; that had been the point, after all, to be there for each other and have someone there to support the other through such a difficult time. She couldn't begin to imagine when Zach had stopped adoring her every move.
"It's not the same." Zach exclaimed; Debbie watched his hands as they moved rapidly and aimlessly, and tried not to scoff as he spoke, ignoring the pang of betrayal that rolled like a stone down her throat, "When I married you, I…I had this image of you in my head of what we'd be like and…and it didn't include a wife who wasn't even in the same country as me half the time."
"That's my job." Debbie replied curtly, tilting her chin up just a fraction; he could insult her all he liked, but she was not going to feel guilty about the one thing that she had worked hard at, and actually loved enough to carry on, "That doesn't make you love me less, that just means that I love my job, and I'm actually enjoying what I'm doing with my life."
"This isn't what I was expecting-" Zach started again, and it was as if he didn't hear what was being said to him, simply making his excuses and trying to back out; everything was her fault, and not his, and that more than anything made her swallow the pain and grasp at the rage he induced, because he was most definitely not to most impressive husband that had ever been.
"You keep saying that, and I don't know what that means, Zach!" Debbie didn't raise her voice, but it was a close call, as she gripped the back of the sofa with all of her might; she was starting to get her head around what he was asking, that he didn't want them to be a part of each other's lives any more, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"It means you're not as perfect as I thought you were, okay." Zach groaned, letting his hands drop to his sides and turning as if to pace away, before turning back on his heel; he could behave as frustrated as he liked, he was still in the wrong.
"Okay?" Debbie repeated, raising her eyebrows derisively at him; this was so him, so like Zach to try and brush things away, and to make light of it, as if it were no matter at all.
"When we were dating, and when we first got married, I thought you were the most amazing girl in the world!" Zach exclaimed, gesturing towards her before thinking better of it, "I thought that you were this cool, sophisticated woman, who knew everything and could do anything, and you could breeze through school without lifting a finger, and you were perfect." He shook his head and for a moment his expression turned sour, "But now, it's like, you were working so hard studying, and then all you wanted to talk about was flying, and you didn't want to come to parties and have fun with me anymore…you're not perfect, you're just scrabbling to get everything together."
"You know why, Zach?" Debbie inquired sharply, her nerves reaching their breaking point; she had enough trouble with men at work wanting her to be better than the best, but no believing that she could because of who she was, "Because perfection is hard work!"
That time she did shout, but only for a moment; just like that, it was like a switch flicked in her head, and a dam broke in her chest, and everything that she had been holding back for the sake of seeming professional and untouchable shattered. The time for cool and unconcerned was gone – damn it, she could be angry, and passionate, and excited, and she could still be the best person any of them were ever going to meet.
It occurred to her, like a whisper in the back of her mind, that perhaps that had been what Mum and Dad had always been nagging her about; it wasn't about shutting herself off and becoming the best. She had done it in school, and she had done it as a child; Debbie could run rings around all of them while indulging in the arts and in pranks and in all sorts of things, and she was sick of pretending to be emotionally flawless as well as perfect in capability.
"I just feel like you're not the woman I fell in love with." Zach mumbled, pouting at her as if that was her fault, and not his for being a doting, deluded idiot. Then again, she had married him knowing that he was like that; he couldn't be allowed to take all of the responsibility, she thought bitterly.
"That's because you didn't fall in love with a woman!" Debbie hissed through gritted teeth, letting herself fill up with anger, which was so much better than the misery of moments before, "What you just described isn't me, that's some shitty trophy wife who's good at everything and detached from the world and doesn't have any passion for her career."
"Well that's what you were offering!" Zach accused her, finally meeting her gaze and holding it, growing a spine; so now she would finally get to know what had been going through his head when he had asked her to marry him.
"I wasn't offering anything." Debbie scoffed, all the better for rolling her eyes and holding her tongue against the worse things she could have said; she had never lied to him, and she wasn't going to now, "I liked you, and then you seemed to like me, and then I cared for you because you said you cared for me-"
"Do you really?" Zach inquired, his features flying wide and displaying the hopeless disdain that he must have been holding in for months, and months, all the while pretending that everything was okay, "Because you've barely seen me over the past few months."
"You're right." Debbie agreed vigorously, and then stopped, stilling and swallowing hard to calm the heaving of her chest, as she stepped back from the sofa; her voice fell, and all that was left was a venom that she hadn't known she possessed, not where Zach was concerned, "I don't anymore…we haven't been married, we've just been sharing a flat and having sex."
"It's not my fault you act like something you're not." Zach muttered, and with that he yanked a chair from beneath the table and dropped into it; he sounded as if he thought that the matter was over and done with, but that wasn't right at all.
Just like that, Debbie couldn't pretend any longer – wouldn't pretend any longer, or hold parts of herself in. The past few months may have spelled the end of their relationship, but they had given her something else. Debbie knew that she was good, and she knew what he place in the world was, with or without him, even if every step of the way ached.
"You want to know what I am?" Debbie asked, suddenly still, and calm, and miraculously able to hold her head high, keep the sneer from her lips, and glare at her husband from across the room, "I am a pilot! I am a professional pilot, and I did that all on my own. I am not cool and detached and unnaturally perfect because I'm trying to impress you, or any of the other men that I have to endure at work."
"I am damn near perfect, because I am a multi-talented woman who excels at whatever I try, I am cool and intelligent and articulate, and have been since long before I ever met you, and I am confident because I damn well deserve every inch of respect that I demand." Her chest was heaving now, but Debbie could almost feel her lips curling into a smirk, unable to think of how else to articulate the surge of righteousness that filled her chest and let her stand tall, "Just because you, and a lot of people can't get that through their heads, doesn't mean I'm not going to force it in whether you like it or not."
"That's more of what I remembered." Zach's voice was barely more than a murmur, but his eyes were fixed on her, narrowed, eyebrows meeting in the middle as if he were confused, or seeing through a looking glass into the past.
"Yes, it is; you know why?" Debbie inquired, her voice rising as she spoke; she hadn't even known that she needed to say all of this, or even known that she felt it, "Because I am sick of cutting out the things that I enjoy and make me happy for the sake of appearing superior. I am superior, and I'm not going to pretend as if I'm not me so that I can impress people like you!" she let out a scoff, and shook her head, paying him little attention, "I am going to force word games on every pilot that I fly with, because you know what, I like my goofy games, I'm going to quit being stoic and ladylike and actually get into things elbow-deep, because that's what I've been wanting to do, and I am going to be passionate about music and art and literature, because I like those things, and people are going to have to accept that I am the best thing to ever hit the skies even though I'm still very much me – no, because of that. I am superior, and amazing, and a little bit sarcastic, but I'm tired of being cool and complacent, because it's no fun."
"Well good for you." Zach replied bitterly, barely giving the air time to settle; he stayed sitting as he was, but his expression was stormy, and colder than she had ever seen it, "But I still don't want to be with you anymore."
"Fine." Debbie retorted faintly, taking another deep breath to keep herself calm; for the first time in a very long time, she felt completely in control, "I don't need you…I'm going to perfectly fine on my own."
oOoOoOo
Seeing the back of Zach was nothing like Debbie had expected; the divorce was quick, and she got the flat, but that was all just formalities.
Yes, it hurt, and she cried every night for about a week, but only when there was no one else around to hear; Debbie found that that sad swilling in the pit of her chest was easily remedied by knocking back a few drinks each night. Not enough that she was impaired for her flight the next day, but enough that she could enjoy being on her own, and then go to sleep without a fuss.
If anything, the fight had been the best thing to happen to her career; it gave Debbie the chance to figure out what had been going wrong. She had been going wrong, that was the answer; that perfect, untouchable, unconcerned woman that Zach had wanted…she had been pretending to be that, to be as good as the men in skills and sharpness of tongue, whilst losing anything that made her truly fearsome.
So Debbie let it out, everything that made her, her…her wit, her sense of humour, her passion for language, the arts, and for fun…she had been keeping them tucked away because she had thought that any deviation from the tough and purposeful image that she had created in her head would let her down, but the reality was so much different.
Debbie Richardson, or Deborah now, because she had found that people assumed she was older when they heard that, and didn't question her presence quite so much…she might not have been fully respected, or accepted, but it was happening, slowly but surely.
What had been steadfast 'allure', was now smooth charm, and smooth the way it did. It turned out her sharp tongue was far more appealing when it was turned to humour, and sarcastic witticisms outside the sphere of battle; it wasn't about respecting her intelligence or intellect, it simply allowed for the other pilots and cabin crew to warm up to her, to laugh, and to accept her whether they liked it or not.
Professionalism went out of the window, and somehow, when Deborah exhibited her genuine joy at succeeding in the flight-deck, her knowledge of her superiority with a smile, and her competitiveness in words games (which were her new method of testing whether her Captain was nice or rude)…she had thought that that would let her down, but somehow people saw her passion, and suddenly she was taken out for drinks as 'one of the lads', only to find that she was rather apt at bar games and quizzes.
It seemed that the moment she stopped trying to be perfect, Deborah became incredible, which was almost as good. Better in fact, because she wasn't just succeeding, she was taking the world by storm.
That wasn't nearly as painful to write as the last bit. I'm not sure what to say here, other than I hope the character is shaping a bit more into the one you'll recognise.
I hope you enjoyed it.