Many thanks to Catswhiskers for the advice and encouragement. And thanks to all who have left reviews - I really appreciate the kind words. This really is turning into a bit of a marathon story - sorry about that!
Martin braced himself to open his eyes, bringing his arm over his head to shield them from the sunlight streaming through the window. He was aware that Kate had already got up and he could hear movement in the kitchen. A freight train appeared to have taken up residence in his head overnight and every tiny movement made him feel like his head might actually explode. Slowly...very slowly...Martin propped himself up on his elbows and fought back a wave of nausea that overtook the movement.
"Oh, God." He groaned and let himself fall back onto the bed, wincing.
Martin couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hangover this bad. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever had a hangover this bad.
That's a lie, Martin, and you know it.
There were several reasons he wasn't really a big drinker. Partly because alcohol was an expense he couldn't afford, mostly because it wasn't something a professional pilot should do – and certainly not something he would ever do before a flight, and...well...because.
He lay perfectly still and swallowed thickly, willing the queasiness to pass and tried to recall the events of the previous evening. He could recall most of the early evening, but there were some worrying gaps in his later memories.
Oh God. What did I do?
"How's the head?"
He turned his head quickly towards the sound of Kate's voice, instantly regretting the moment, and squinted at her. He fully expected to see her scowling at him disapprovingly, but quite the contrary she looked amused.
"Like someone has taken a hammer to it." He winced at her.
Kate laughed and wandered round to sit next to him on the bed, placing a glass of water and some tablets on the bedside table.
"You might need these." She smiled at him. "And you might also want to steer clear of Tequila in future."
"Tequila?" Martin exclaimed, trying to ignore the vibration in his head at the words.
"Uh huh. You're quite the party animal Captain Crieff." Her eyes crinkled with amusement, though she was trying to keep a straight face.
"Ugh." Martin brought his hands over his face, before attempting to sit up again, this time slightly more successfully.
"Look, Kate..." he started, feeling a sudden urge to apologise, just in case. "...If I..."
"No." Kate interrupted him.
Martin squinted at her, trying to make his brain work. "No?"
"No, you didn't."
"I didn't...?" He was thoroughly confused.
"You didn't make a fool of yourself, or me come to that. So you don't owe me an apology." She looked at him knowingly.
"How did you know that's what I was going to say?"
"Because, we've actually already had this conversation." She told him matter of factly.
"We have?" Martin tried his hardest to recall.
Kate nodded. "Yes. Last night before we went to bed."
"Oh." Was all Martin could manage. Worryingly, he had no recollection of any conversation whatsoever.
"It was just after you sang to me."
"I sang?" He began to feel a flush on his face. "Oh, God."
Kate smiled. "Actually you were pretty good."
"Oh...well." He felt a puff of pride at the compliment. "So what did I...?"
"Brown Eyed Girl." Kate replied to his unfinished question.
Martin cringed inwardly. Of course it would have been that song; the song that Douglas had caught him humming to himself on the flight back the other day, the song that had been stuck in his head since the day he'd met her. He smiled ruefully at her by way of apology.
Kate seemed to consider him while he reached for the water and tablets.
"Martin?"
"Mmmm?" He acknowledged her while he swallowed back the tablets, praying for instant relief.
"Can I... ask you something?"
Martin nodded gently, worrying slightly about where this was going.
"Last night..."Kate seemed to hesitate with her words. "...when you asked me if you'd embarrassed me...which you didn't." She clarified again firmly. "It seemed like...well...it seemed like you were going to say something else, but you lost your train of thought."
Martin snorted. "I can't even recall the conversation. It could have been anything!"
"Well, yes...but...why were you so worried about embarrassing me?"
Martin felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze. "Because...well, because it was the first time meeting your friends...and...you know I was nervous. And you know my fantastic ability to say the wrong thing, and usually at the wrong moment. It's a gift." He laughed a little.
"It wasn't just that though, was it?" She clearly wasn't going to be shaken from this line of enquiry.
Now you've done it. You were clearly about to tell her all about it, weren't you? And now she knows something. She's not going to let it go.
Martin tried to think of a way of deflecting it. He wasn't very good at lying, not as bad as Arthur obviously, but not too far behind either.
"It's just...I...I've been known to make somewhat of a fool of myself before. That's all."
"What happened?"
"Oh...you know...the usual. Had a bit too much to drink, danced like an idiot...that kind of thing." He tried to say it dismissively, in the vain hope it would be enough.
Kate narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was trying to physically pull whatever it was she was getting at, directly from his brain. "Everyone does that. Was it somewhere in particular?"
Dammit! You couldn't have met someone less astute?
"W-w-well..." Martin stammer came back. "...it was..."
What's the point, Martin. You might as well just tell her now.
"It was my brother's wedding, actually."
Kate actually chuckled a little. "Oh no. What did you do?"
Martin felt fire burning in his cheeks at the memory he'd tried to push away. "I...I-I-I'd rather not talk about it."
No. Too soon.
Kate looked in turn confused and a little worried. "Sure...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push. It just felt like you wanted to say something last night..." She drifted off, putting a hand on his.
Martin looked down towards the glass of water in his other hand, feeling the sting of tears threatening at the edges of his eyes. He blinked them back, successfully, before looking up to Kate.
"It's just..."
He was suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of his mobile phone, which was on the bedside table. The sound threatened to make his already aching head actually fatal and he picked it up and answered it quickly, more to shut it up than anything.
"Martin? It's Carolyn."
Oh God.
He smiled apologetically at Kate, who smiled back and got up to head back out the bedroom, leaving him to take his phonecall.
"Carolyn. Hi." He tried his best to hide his sound upbeat.
"Dear God. What's happened to you?"
"W-w-what...What do you mean?" He stumbled. How could she know over the phone. Martin was beginning to suspect that Carolyn was, in fact, supernatural.
"You sound like you've been gargling gravel."
Martin hadn't even considered his voice until that moment. Of course, his throat was dry and rough from drinking and sleeping. "Oh...right...just a sore throat, that's all." He lied. It wouldn't do to tell your boss you'd been up half the night drinking tequila.
"You're not getting ill are you, Martin?" There was just a hint of worry in her voice, though you had to know Carolyn pretty well to be able to detect it.
"No, no, I'm fine."
"Good." She paused for a moment. "It's not because I care, you understand. It's just terribly difficult to find cheap temporary pilots, and also rather inconvenient."
"No, really I'm fine." He assured her, rolling his eyes.
"Excellent. Then you'll be pleased to know that we've got a last minute job for this afternoon, flying a businessman to Rome."
"W-w-what? No Carolyn, I can't..." Martin spluttered.
No, no, no, no, no, no!
"You can, and you will. You just told me you weren't ill?"
"N-n-no...no, I'm not ill." Martin tried to bring the tone of his voice down slightly. "But, I'm...I'm busy...I have plans."
"Martin, what's more important to you, MJN's continued survival or missing a day on the sofa with your girlfriend?" Carolyn stated
"That's not it." He protested. "I have a... a job...with my van." A wave of nausea washed over him again.
"You told me that you didn't have any van bookings this week. I distinctly recall a conversation with you complaining about it."
Damn!
"It was a last minute booking." He stalled, trying to sound confident.
"Can't you reschedule?"
"I don't think..." He started.
"Good. Excellent. So I'll see you here about 3pm?"
"Carolyn...I..." Martin tried to object, but it was useless.
"Got to go. Many things needing my attention." And with that she put the phone down.
His head was pounding with every heartbeat, which after the conversation with Carolyn was virtually tachycardic ,and the waves of nausea were becoming a permanent feature. He couldn't fly, and more importantly shouldn't fly.
Now what are you going to do?
He could have just told Carolyn the truth. He was an adult after all and was perfectly entitled to go out to a party on his night off. But somehow the thought of explaining to Carolyn that her Captain wasn't available to fly because he had a hangover didn't strike him as very professional. Why did he have to say he wasn't sick? He was sick!
"Everything ok?" Kate stuck her head back around the bedroom door.
"No." Martin grimaced. "Carolyn has made a booking for Rome this afternoon."
"And you told her no, I assume?"
"Well...I..."
"Martin!" Kate chided him.
"I couldn't tell her I had a hangover, could I?"
"Why ever not?" Kate looked confused.
"Because...well...it's not." He paused, getting frustrated with himself. "Because it's not very professional!"
Kate regarded him for a second. "And flying a plane with a hangover...and the possibility of Tequila still coursing through your veins is, of course, the height of professionalism." She didn't disguise the sarcasm in her voice.
"I know it's not." Martin snapped and then felt immediately bad. He was mad at himself for not standing up to Carolyn and for having a ridiculous amount of pride. He was not mad at Kate; she was, after all, only pointing out the truth.
Kate recoiled a little, but spoke again with a softer tone. "Why didn't you just tell her you were ill? You look ill, you sound ill. In fact, you are ill."
"I know." He spoke dejectedly. "I don't know why...I... I'm sorry for snapping."
"You know what you are, Martin Crieff?"
Martin cringed inwardly, waiting for the onslaught.
Kate smiled at him. "An idiot."
