"Now, I'm not usually one to turn up a free trip," Douglas started, his scowl perfectly arranged.

"Or free alcohol," Martin muttered.

"-But do we really need to go to an aquarium? All of us?"

Arthur (who had thus far been bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement) pouted. It was almost his thirtieth birthday and his mother had promised that they would celebrate it whilst in America. It had seemed the perfect location, and Arthur was ecstatic at the thought of being a tourist in Florida. It was just the right place for the excitable steward, giving him numerous options for things to do.

"Yes, we do." Carolyn stated curtly. "It's almost Arthur's thirtieth birthday and God knows we need to celebrate him getting to this age without accidentally killing himself. And he decided that he wants to go see Shamu. So to the show we go."

"I noticed Miss Topaz doesn't have to go." Douglas didn't know what excuse Imogen had used, but he was annoyed that he hadn't used the same one and begged leave from what would no doubt become a disaster of Arthurian proportions.

"Imogen's not well, Douglas. She really wanted to come but she looks really ill." Arthur had just come from their twin room and she had been pale and shaky. She had had a rough night; Arthur had woken to hear her whimpering and fidgeting in her sleep. He had woken her every time, watched her terror before she realised what was going on. Arthur didn't take it personally; he could remember when he used to have nightmares, just after his father had left. Carolyn had held him while he had come round, wiped away his tears and assured him that Gordon Shappey leaving was not the youngster's fault.

"Lucky for some," came the mutinous response. "Alright, fine. But I want to keep a bottle of Alyakhin's wine."

"Done." Carolyn was in no mood to argue with him, and the yachters had brought a multitude. She was prepared to cope with the loss of a single bottle for the sake of her son, though she would never admit that to him.

################################################## ###

"Arthur, put your phone away, it'll get wet," Martin murmured. Carolyn had somehow arranged for them to be in the front row, and although the phone had survived enough Arthur mishaps, being drenched would most likely finally kill it off.

Arthur didn't reply, but sighed, shoving it into his pocket. He had been trying to reach Imogen, but to no avail. He wasn't sure how to explain his worries to Martin, but the Captain was least likely to brush off his concern, even if he thought it was unfounded. The Skipper would probably just say she was sleeping off a headache (for that was the excuse she had given) and that there was no reason for him to panic. But Arthur knew that there was something deeper, far more worrying than that.

"Do you think she's okay?" He asked quietly, the dolphins and whales (usually brilliant, but dulled somewhat with concern) not captivating him as they should. Martin could easily tell that something was bothering Arthur, and bit his lip.

"I'm not sure, Arthur. Like you said, she didn't look very well. Maybe some sleep will help." However, that wasn't what Arthur meant, and they both knew it. Martin had been observing Imogen for a while, and had noticed those tell tale signs of low mood. God knew he knew what she was feeling. How many times had he lain in his attic, curled up in his sleeping bag on the floor, wishing that life would just pass him by?

"Yeah. Maybe." Arthur wasn't convinced, however, and that gnawing, anxious feeling in the pit of stomach didn't ease throughout the show, but remained, getting progressively worse. He barely even registered the end of it, only applauding when Martin nudged him in the shoulder. It was half-hearted, and the frown on the steward's face had grown. It was a sure sign that something was wrong when the usually chipper Arthur was not happy. Say what they like about him, Arthur was an excellent barometer for everyone's mood. If someone wasn't feeling themselves, you could always count on him to notice, even if they hid it well.

"I thought you'd be about ready to jump into the tank with them, Arthur. Don't tell me I dragged myself here for nothing," Douglas drawled, fluffy dolphin under arm as a present for his daughter. He had actually rather enjoyed the show, but wished his family could have been there. His biological one, at least. He knew that his daughter would have loved the show, dolphins being up there with ponies as her favourite animals.

Arthur didn't reply, but pulled out his phone, brows furrowed in concern as Imogen didn't pick up. Another chirpy voice-mail message.

"It's Imogen here. I'm probably out of the country with my job, so leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Not bothering to leave a message, Arthur sighed. Something really was desperately wrong and the rest of the crew hadn't really seemed to notice. Martin had figured out something, as had Douglas, but none of them seemed too concerned. As for Carolyn, she was rarely around Imogen, and didn't really know her, not like her son did.

"Something's wrong with Imogen, Mum," he implored his mother, green eyes wide with fear. He liked the stewardess. She treated him as her equal, which was more than could be said for the rest of MJN.

"She has a headache, like you said, Arthur. Honestly, what's the matter with you? You barely paid any attention to the show, and I paid through the nose for front row seats."

"No, mum, something worse. You have to believe me. I just know these things."

That was true, certainly. He had never been wrong when it came to figuring out emotions, even if he was usually completely erroneous when it came to everything else. That was one of the reasons that Carolyn tried to protect him as much as she did. As a child, Arthur could always tell when she and Gordon had argued, and it had devastated him. Even now, he still blamed himself, and threw himself into trying to cheer everyone around him up.

"She has been acting strangely, Carolyn. We've noticed it for quite some time." This from Douglas, ever the voice of reason. If he thought there was a reason to be worried, then there more than definitely was.

"All right, all right, fine," Carolyn held her hands up in defeat. "We'll go back, check on her, and then when we find out everything is perfectly fine, we go to lunch. I very firmly intend on making the most of these few days in glorious sunshine."