Chapter Summary: Arthur and Douglas prove their mettle on one of MJN's trips to Norfolk Treatment Centre.

Trigger warning for panic attack this chapter. Scroll to the end of the chapter for spoilers and info.

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May 2013, Newcastle

Arthur knew it was an important part of MJN's work, but he didn't really like these flights, the ones where they were transporting untreated PDSers. They weren't really rabid, not with the sedation, but it made him sad to see their blank faces and slow movements. He told himself he was being silly, that he was helping them get better by taking them to a safe place. In the Centre, they would get help and recover, just like he had. He loved his job, really. But some days weren't as brilliant as others. Like today.

He watched, Martin hovering nervously just behind his shoulder as the handler dragged a stumbling woman into G-ERTI with a catch pole. With a brutal shove he pushed her into the cage. She tripped over the elderly man crouching on the floor and fell against the side of the cage, just catching herself on the bars. Grinning, the man loosened the noose from her neck and slammed the cage door shut and locked it.

"You don't have to be so mean," Arthur said. "She's someone's family, you know!"

"She's a Rotter," the man replied. "Don't be so soft. Just look at the state of her. She'd have a go at me if she could. Been hiding in old mines for ages. You don't think people just disappeared 'cuz they fell into shafts, do you? Stone cold killer, that one."

Arthur looked at the woman dubiously. She was strikingly tall and broad for a lady, just about his own height, maybe bigger. Matted blond hair fell into her face as she looked at the three observers.

"He - he's right, you know. You shouldn't be so rough. In, in fact you can't. They have to be delivered undamaged… I mean, uninjured." Martin squared his shoulders. "S-so, if any harm's been done, MJN will hold you liable. I still have to sign off on the paperwork, you know."

Arthur felt a bit like cheering, but held his tongue as the man glared at Skip. "Nothing wrong with them other than what you see. And what they are," he muttered and thrust a small clipboard at Martin. Martin scrutinised the paperwork, darting quick glances between it and their new passengers to see that the physical descriptions matched before signing it. The handler snatched it back. "There. Happy now? Anything happens to the cargo now, it's all on your heads. Bleeding heart."

Without a further word he turned and left. Martin pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, looking away from the cage. "Arthur, can you get everything settled? I want to get away from here as soon as possible."

"Sure thing, Skip!" Martin headed forward as Arthur pulled the heavy exit door shut and sealed it. He picked up the intercom. "All ready, guys!" The noise of G-ERTI's engines increased and there was a small jolt as the plane began to move. Arthur moved closer to the enclosure. The old man was still squatting on the floor, dull-eyed from whatever sedation he'd received. The woman was patting at the bars, sniffing them. She gave one a tug and made a low noise in her throat.

"It's okay," Arthur told her. "We're bringing you to a place where they can help you." She fixed her white eyes on him. "Look, it's all right. I'm like you." He tugged at his cravat and lifted his chin, showing her the demarcation between makeup and his own natural white flesh. She only turned away and shuffled to the other side of the cage, touching the bars again.

"Um. Okay," Arthur said. He straightened his shoulders and addressed them both. "When… when the 'Fasten Seatbelt' light comes on, please sit on the floor. During the flight, if the light comes on due to turbulence, please, er, sit on the floor. And hold the bars. In fact, feel free to sit at anytime, we prefer it when passengers sit because Mum says roaming passengers are a nuis - anyway." He put on his brightest professional smile. "Thank you for choosing MJN Air!"

It was a little silly, Arthur didn't think they understood. But they were like him, so he said it anyway. He hoped he'd see them again one day when they got better.

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Norfolk Treatment Centre

Douglas clicked on the radio. "Golf Tango India to Little Snoring ATC, requesting permission to land, over."

"Little Snoring ATC, continue on your current vector, Golf Tango India. You're free to come in," came the reply. "Welcome back, Dead Air. Over."

"Sorry, was that a request to repeat?" Douglas asked. "I don't think you heard me. Did my radio expire? Hello? Over."

"What? No, Golf Tango, you're not allowed to turn the joke back onto ATC. Good one, though. Howzit, Douglas? Cold hands on the yoke today? Over."

"Sorry, Bill, that privilege belongs to our very own hot-blooded Captain Crieff today."

"Douglas!" Martin yelped. "That's not appropriate!"

"As you can hear," Douglas continued smoothly. "Over."

"Pity. Had a joke all set up about ghost planes. Over."

"An obvious one, Bill, as was the one last time I flew here about zombies getting it up faster. Over."

"For god's sake, Douglas!"

"Ha. Right. Well, I'll sign off since since someone's killing all the fun. Over."

"Good one!" Douglas approved. "You'll hear my suave voice from beyond the veil later, Bill. Try not to miss me too much. Over."

"Perish the thought. Over and out." The ATC disconnected with a satisfied ha! at having got the last joke in.

Martin's annoyance was almost visibly rising from him, Douglas mused. He waited with pleasurable anticipation for the upbraiding to follow.

"Has dying killed your sense of professionalism utterly? You can't talk to the ATC like that, there's a protocol to be followed!" Martin said.

Ah, there it was. Martin was so predictable that Douglas' own response took hardly any thought. "Well, as a wise captain I knew once said," he drawled. "Bugger the regs."

Martin's sudden snort of laughter had Douglas grinning. "You - you can't hold that against me," Martin said.

"Oh, but I can," Douglas said. "In answer to your question, no, I was pretty much always like this. Why stop now?"

"Because I'm afraid it's catching and one day I'll look about and find I've descended to your level," Martin replied.

"I think you mean ascended," Douglas quipped. "But if you practice long and hard enough, young Grasshopper, one day I'll allow you to sit at my feet and learn the secret to becoming a sky-god."

"Oh, wonderful," Martin said. "I await that day with huge anticipation, I don't think."

Douglas chuckled and flicked on the intercom to tell Arthur they were about to land.

The two handlers from Norfolk Treatment Centre wore serviceable blue coveralls with name patches. Martin squinted at them as the heavier one checked the paperwork and nodded. David, that was him. He remembered him from previous visits, a quiet man who did his job without much fuss. The taller one holding the catch poles and looking around G-ERTI was James.

"You're new, aren't you?" Martin asked. "I haven't seen you before."

James shook his head. "Nah, was in janitorial before this. So this is the famous MJN, is it?" He ran mocking eyes over Arthur and Douglas. "Can't say it's what I expected."

"What, is it better than what you thought?" Arthur asked.

James snorted. "Better that Rotters get to have cushy jobs flying airplanes and all, while I'm stuck-"

"James," David said without looking up from his clipboard. "We've talked about this before."

"Not to worry - I'm sure with your winning personality you'll be living a life of ease and luxury in no time," Douglas said. "Just like me."

Martin groaned inwardly. James' jaw jutted forward belligerently. "What did you say?"

Douglas looked bored. "Oh, nothing. Only I'm sure that your doubtless stunning skill sets are obviously being wasted in your position."

James turned red but to Martin's surprise, he didn't explode. Instead, a look of low cunning came into his eyes. "Right. Sure." He turned to his co-worker. "Dave, I have a workplace health and safety issue I want to bring up."

David was clearly annoyed. "What?"

"There are four Deadies… oh, excuse me, two PDS sufferers and two untreated... and only three humans, one of whom isn't trained in handling them - or part of the union."

"For fuck's sake, Jim! Don't be an ass," David groaned. "The rabids are locked up."

"But two are unrestrained," James pointed out. "And this is a situation where I am uncomfortable and feel threatened for my safety." The stilted phrase sounded as if he were parroting a handbook.

"I took my dose like I'm supposed to," Arthur said, worried. "You really feel uncomfortable?"

Douglas huffed a disgusted breath at how Arthur was playing into the man's hands. Martin protested. "Excuse me, but there's nothing wrong here! You don't need to take that tone. Douglas and Arthur are just as human as we are."

"But Skip," Arthur said. "What about them? Aren't they human too?" He gestured at the caged rabids.

"I, er, I didn't mean -" Martin began.

Douglas' gaze was cool. "Yes, Martin, please try to remember that we're all still part of the human race, if somewhat disadvantaged." Martin flushed and dropped his gaze.

"I don't give a toss about that," James said. "Dave, this could be a union issue."

David was disgusted but gave way. "Fine. How can we resolve your little problem?"

"That one clears off," James said immediately, jerking a thumb at Douglas. His eye fell on the galley door with its keypad. "Get him locked up."

"But you can't do that!" Arthur said.

"I agree," Martin said, trying to make up for his slip. "Anyway, we all know the codes."

"Bet there's one that's supposed to keep him penned up for when he goes off his head," James said. "Bet there's one that works only from this side." He grinned when he saw Martin's expression. "Thought so." He nodded to Douglas. "Off you pop."

David blew a disgusted breath but only shook his head slightly at Arthur's exclamation of dismay. "Union. Sorry, chaps. Nothing I can do - he'll just kick up a fuss and make things worse."

Douglas straightened from his slouch against the back of a seat, cast the gloating James a fulminating look and stalked forward. Martin exchanged an unhappy glance with Arthur and trailed after. "Douglas, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, Martin," Douglas said. "I find I'm rather in need of the air in the galley anyway - it's fresher than the hot air being blown about aft. Coffee for you while I wait?"

"Um, maybe later." He checked behind to see if anyone was watching and leaned closer. "Don't worry - if I don't let you out, Arthur knows the code as well."

"Well, there's another clear health and safety issue," Douglas said. "Alert the union, I feel uncomfortable and threatened for our safety. Arthur? Really?"

"Yes, really. He is the steward," Martin retorted but felt marginally better as he shut the door and tapped the keypad.

Arthur was watching anxiously as David guided the man from the cage with the catch pole. "Be careful with him. He looks so old!"

"No worries, you know I always am," David said. "Jim, you want to help me here or are you just going to stand around all day insulting these gents?"

James squinted at the woman, who was sitting hunched on the floor, unmoving. "Nah, I've got this one. Neither one looks very lively, heh."

"Right," David said. "So, union rules only work when you want them, or did you forget that two of us are supposed to escort one sufferer at a time?"

"Oh, no," James said. "Union rules still apply, and they say I got a break coming up in twenty. So you wanna hurry it up?"

"Arsehole," David said but led the old man carefully down the steps.

Arthur rapped on the cage gently. "Hello? You should get up. It's time to go see a doctor. They'll fix you up here. Hello?"

The woman turned her head slightly at the noise but made no move to get up. James rolled his eyes. "Open it up. I've got better things to do." Martin hissed an annoyed breath but opened the cage and stepped well away. James loosened the noose on his catch stick and looped it over the woman's neck, snugging it tight with what Martin thought was unnecessary force. The woman's head came up and she pawed at the noose.

"Hey!" Arthur said. "You don't have to choke her." He was clearly getting more upset by the man's behaviour.

"It won't hurt her, dummy," James said, "Now shut up and let me do my job." He tugged at the restraint, rocking the woman.

Martin clenched his hands. He was going to file a complaint - maybe handlers didn't have to be very careful with people who didn't feel pain, but James seemed to take enjoyment in seeing how far he could go without actually causing injury. Arthur was looking between him and James, pleading with his eyes for Martin to do something. James began to use the stick as a lever, forcing her chin in the air, but still she didn't budge. James cursed. Yes, Martin thought, he'd definitely say something later to Halperin and Weston.

"Fuck's sake, would you get up!" James snapped at the woman. He pulled harder, straining against her weight. She rose ponderously to her feet then in one swift motion threw herself backwards, tearing the catch stick from James' hands. Arthur gasped. James yelped and tried to slam the cage door but it hit the stick and bounced. "Jesus!" His eyes flew around the cabin wildly, settling on the aft taser. Arthur jumped forward to block him, arms spread wide.

"No! No, you can't! Leave her alone!"

Martin was frozen, breath stuck in his throat. The rabid snarled and James jerked back. "Fuck it! You deal with it!" In a second he was out the door. Arthur began to turn but the woman thrust an arm through the gap in the door, grasped his shoulder and yanked him against the cage, the jolt rattling the bars. Her forearm went against his throat and Arthur wheezed, eyes wide. He struggled against the crushing strength to no avail.

Oh, god, Arthur. Martin' paralysis dropped away and he leapt forward to grab Arthur's waistcoat. He yanked with all his strength at the same time Arthur pulled on her arm and together they broke her grip. Off-balance, Martin staggered back and fell with Arthur's full weight atop him. Arthur's shoulder drove into his sternum and Martin gasped. Reflexively his body tried its best to curl around the pain in his solar plexus. His mouth opened and closed. Arthur lifted his head, aghast. "Skip, are you -" But his eyes widened and with a startled yell Arthur was lifted off him. Martin managed to roll to his side, breath seeping in with a thin whistle. His watering eyes flew to the two struggling figures swaying over him.

The rabid had Arthur's arm at an awkward angle, one hand in his hair. "Stop it! Let go!" Arthur shouted, blindly reaching behind to flail at her with his free arm. Growling, she lowered her head to his and sniffed. Her nose wrinkled and she hissed in disappointment. Arthur twisted and nearly broke free. With a hard shove she pushed him away and he fell. His head hit a seat armrest with a dull thump. He collapsed, groaning.

Martin struggled to draw a full breath, to call for help, to scream, but the only sound that emerged was a whimper. His hands scrabbled against the floor. Dimly he could hear pounding, shouting. The woman's face lifted. Her pale eyes fixed on him. No, no.

Martin pedalled his legs, the heels of his shoes skidding on the carpet, scooting him back and away. Time stretched out into infinity as the woman stalked him, catch pole knocking against seats. No, no, not again. His lips were moving but all sound had been swallowed up by the rising cacophony of his racing heart. Martin's back hit something solid - the door of the galley - and there was nowhere left to go. His contact taser was somehow in his numb hands. Cowering, he looked up as the figure loomed closer. The rabid's nostrils flared. She lurched at him, hands curved into claws. "No!" He instinctively flung up his arm to cover his face, taser forgotten. Her hand was on his leg, yanking him forward and he couldn't. He couldn't be here anymore. So he wasn't - something clicked and he went somewhere else.

It was worse.

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"Martin! Arthur! Let me out, unlock the fucking door! Martin!" Douglas roared. He'd decided he'd actually do the nice thing for once and make Martin that cup of coffee. He'd been stirring milk into it when he'd heard the commotion, shouting and thumps. Dropping the spoon, he began pounding on the locked galley door, cursing. More crashing noises, and then Douglas' heart dropped into his stomach at the sound of Martin's cut-off scream. "Damn it!" He threw his shoulder against it, knowing it was no good. The door, unlike so many parts on G-ERTI, was new and solidly built. Balling his fists, he beat them against the unyielding metal. "Martin! Are you okay, let me out!"

It was too quiet on the other side. He was just about to hurry into the flight deck and radio for help when he heard Arthur.

"Skip! Skip? Are you okay?" There was a shuffling sound and a thin, high noise. "Oh… Okay. Yes, you just stay there, Skip." Arthur's voice was slow and careful, as though he were speaking to a child or an animal. "I'll… I'll get Douglas." The door keypad beeped, the lock clicked and Douglas wrenched it open so hard that Arthur nearly fell in upon him. He caught him by the shoulders.

"What happened? Where's Martin?"

"The woman, she - she went wild. She attacked me, I stopped her but -" Arthur shook his head, distress etching his face. "Skip. I think Skip needs help, but he won't let me near." Arthur looked to his left. Douglas followed his gaze and saw Martin sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, his taser held in two shaking hands. He had squeezed himself into the corner between the galley wall and the first row of seats. Aside from rumpled and torn clothing, he was unharmed, no blood or injuries evident. But he looked utterly unhinged, breath coming too fast. His irises were completely ringed in white and fixed on Arthur.

"Christ," Douglas muttered. He took a careful step into the cabin. "Martin. Are you all right?" Stupid question, it was obvious he wasn't. Martin didn't look at him, didn't even seem to register that he was being addressed.

"Skip, it's okay, I got her!" Arthur said. "Grabbed the catch stick and pulled her away. I tased her." He shuffled. "Maybe more than once. She's really scary - and strong! So you don't have to worry." Before Douglas could stop him, Arthur edged around him and extended his hand to help Martin to his feet.

The change was dramatic. Martin kicked out, shoes scuffling against carpet as he wedged himself further in the corner. "No, no, stay away, you stay away!"

The taser was jabbed in their direction, sparking and clicking. Arthur flinched at the sound. "Dad, no," Martin pleaded and his tone was so despairing that it was a punch in Douglas' chest. With one hand he grabbed Arthur by the back of his waistcoat, heaved him away and moved to block Martin's view. Douglas heard Arthur's startled exclamation as he caught himself on a seat back but he couldn't worry about him now.

"Arthur," Douglas said, and it was an effort to keep his voice even. He needed to be - no, impossible, he wasn't calm at all, but he had to sound it for Martin's sake. "Get that thing back in the cage."

"But Skip… I just wanted to help -"

"Arthur." Douglas shifted just enough that Arthur was still hidden from Martin and looked at him. "Not now. You look... You don't look yourself. You're frightening Martin. He's not in his right mind just now. Leave it to me, all right?"

Arthur did look a mess. A sleeve was mostly torn away, exposing pale skin and dark veins. His make-up was smeared and one of his brown contacts was missing. Arthur looked at where mousse had rubbed away on his hands and back to Douglas. His voice was very small. "Oh."

"You did well, Arthur. Brilliantly," Douglas told him. "You saved Martin, but let me handle it now. Just get that… take our guest back to the cage and put her away safely. That's the best thing to do. Martin can't look at you right now, so just… stay out of sight."

Arthur's expression was heartbroken but he obeyed, ducking low to move down the aisle to where the rabid lay moaning.

Douglas lowered himself to the carpet, leaving a margin of space between himself and Martin. Now Arthur was gone, Martin's gaze was unfocused and staring at the taser he held. "Martin?" Douglas asked. "Martin. Would you look at me?" When the grey eyes shifted to his face he smiled. "That's better. It's not so bad here on the floor, is it? Just you and me. Martin and Douglas. You don't mind, do you? G-ERTI here could have newer carpeting, but we'll take what we can get, right?"

Martin's chin dipped. Douglas returned the nod. "Good. I just wanted to ask a few things, if you're up to answering. You're here, in MJN's jet. What's your job?"

"Cap - captain," Martin said. "Pilot." Douglas winced in sympathy at the roughness of Martin's voice, but at least he was speaking. As a series of thumps indicated Arthur was following his instructions, Douglas raised his voice to cover the noise. He had Martin tell him simple things - how old he was, where they were, what clothes he was wearing. Slowly Martin came back from wherever he'd gone, voice growing stronger. He began to shake, full body tremors that caused the taser in his clenched hands to quake.

"Your finger's not on the trigger of that thing, is it?" Douglas asked. Martin shook his head. "Grand. That's good, because you're safe. We can put it away now, because nothing's going to hurt you. I'm here. You're completely safe. It's fine. I'm going to take it and put it back in your holster now. It'll be within your reach the way it always is."

Douglas curled his fingers around the device, praying that Martin was stable enough not to see him as a threat. With a visible effort Martin unclenched his fingers and Douglas eased the taser free, exhaling in relief. He leaned over and tucked it in Martin's holster. "There. Do you mind if I take your pulse? Sorry about my hands, they're always a bit cold. Bit like a doctor's stethoscope if they don't breathe on it first." Best he remind Martin of the fact so he was prepared.

"O-okay."

Martin's heart rate was a touch fast, as was his breathing. "Deep breaths, Martin. Nice and easy." Douglas' eyes flicked over him in the old patterns remembered from his medical training. His glance fell upon the tear in Martin's trouser leg and he paused. There were scars dimpling the muscle of Martin's calf, pink and smooth. Douglas swallowed, throat tight. Suddenly so many things about Martin made sense now.

"It was my dad." Douglas' gaze returned to Martin's white face. "My dad, he… he-"

"I know," Douglas said, a terrible pity filling him. "I know. You don't have to say it."

But Martin went on, his hoarse voice snagging and catching as he tried to get it out. "My, my van. Ran out of gas. I was walking and, and he was there. He was th-there, and it was dark and he - he - it was my dad. He did that. He - he tried. Tried to..."

From a seat row behind, Arthur made a pained noise. Martin's eyes opened wide, darting about wildly before he hunched up, hiding his face in his arms. From the corner of his eye Douglas caught movement and turned his head in time to see Arthur ducking out of sight. Douglas reined in his temper with a huge effort. "Arthur, go and sort out your make-up, tidy up your clothes. Make yourself useful and get Martin a drink. Something hot. Understand?"

Arthur's voice was croaky. "I - I understand. But my contact lens fell out and I don't think I have spares with me."

"Then find some sunglasses!"

"Okay. Right. Good idea. Sorry. Sorry, Douglas. Sorry, Skip." Arthur went aft to the toilet and shut the door. Douglas blew out a breath, pushed himself to his feet and got a blanket. He tucked it around Martin. Martin's shoulders were heaving. Helpless, Douglas sat in the seat next to him and rubbed the narrow back.

"Martin, you just sit there until you feel better. Arthur will make you some coffee and I'll bring it to you when he's done. I have a feeling that shortly those incompetents from Halperin and Weston will be back with reinforcements. They'll take our unwanted guest away and you won't ever have to see her again. So… So just stay put. Will you be okay?"

Martin didn't answer. Douglas heard the clatter of footsteps on G-ERTI's stairs and stood to meet their visitors, grim. David burst into the cabin, panting, followed by two heavy-set security types with cattle prods and shackles. After a quick glance around, his eyes settled on the locked cage where the woman lay groaning and he sagged in relief. "Oh, thank god."

"Where the hell have you lot been?" Here was an easy target for Douglas' roiling emotions, though he kept his voice low. "One of your new charges goes wild and starts attacking people and it took you this long to respond?"

David's mouth turned down. "Ran into James after I'd settled the old man. Asked him where the woman was, and he told me some cock and bull story about how he'd left her because she was being unruly and he didn't think he could handle her alone after all, and could I give him a hand? But he was kind of pale and twitchy and trying to hide it, and that's when I realised something must have gone wrong. I got here as fast as I could." He shook his head with disgust. "I get the feeling that if I hadn't asked him about the sufferer, he wouldn't have said anything. That sod. I'm going to hang him out to dry for this, union or not."

"I'll do it myself if you don't," Douglas said. His hand curled into a fist. "I was locked up front, thanks to your compatriot, so I didn't witness what happened. But Arthur can tell you. She went after both him and Martin." He directed his glare at the two security men. "Get her off our plane. Now. I don't want her here a minute longer."

David nodded at the men and they moved to obey. "They managed to subdue her? Arthur and Martin?"

"Yes. Arthur's fine. He's just in the toilet now, fixing his makeup. Martin…" Douglas paused.

"Should I get a medic?" David asked. "Is he all right?"

Douglas blew out a breath. "Send one here, if you have one that won't make assumptions. Martin's in no state to go into your facility right now." Might as well send a lamb into a lion's den as Martin into a building filled with untreated PDSers right now. He watched as the security men carried the securely-bound rabid down G-ERTI's steps. Noticing David's apprehensive expression, he added, "No, he has no physical injuries."

Not injured, no. Douglas thought of Martin huddled on the floor shivering, of his maimed leg. Not injured. But Martin was definitely not all right.

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Story Notes: TW - Martin is attacked by a rabid and it triggers his PTSD left from the night his dad attacked him. Douglas talks him down.