5
They say that the world flashed before your eyes before you died.
Martin had never honestly believed it.
But it was true.
So true.
Or, actually, the better parts of his life flashed before his eyes. The better part of his life after achieving his goal. After becoming the pilot of MJN.
Meeting with Carolyn. Knowing that he wasn't going to get the job. Anxiously trying to make up for it: he'd fly for free! Getting the job.
His first encounter with Arthur. He'd been looking for a lemon. Martin hadn't understood. He'd pointed out the lemon: under the nearby seat.
Douglas griping at him not ten seconds later: why did you do that! The travelling lemon. It was a game.
It seemed like an interesting crew. But, what was better: they seemed like a family.
Flying to Abu Dhabi. Could have gone better. Carolyn was angry. The cat was saved.
Flying to Boston. Definitely could have gone better. He'd gotten arrested. But, somehow, it wasn't a bad memory.
So many more flights. The travelling lemon. Trying to chat up girls. Passenger derbies. Simon Says and Brians of Britain and all the rhyming games...
The piano. Douglas and Arthur helping deliver it.
Arthur pretending to be Captain.
The Scottish first officer.
My Jet Now...
Aeroplanes.
Martin reopened his eyes. Stinging again. Jeez. How could he still be able to cry?!
He curled his fingers into fists briefly before stretching his arms out. If he just imagined it... he could touch the world. He could take the entire world in his arms and just give it one great, big hug. A final embrace...
Arms suddenly locked around his, tugging him backwards. He was off balance for a terrifying second before he tipped- backwards- landing back against someone's chest. The arms snaked around him, around his own chest, preventing him from moving. He struggled for a half second, panicking- hell, someone was trying to mug him, kidnap him! His mind immediately went to all the wrong ideas- torture, rape- because it was his luck, wasn't it-
"What the hell are you doing?" rumbled a voice next to his ear.
Martin froze for a half second before his body and mind relaxed, his entire body going limp. He recognized that voice.
"Douglas..." he muttered weakly, closing his eyes.
"No, seriously. What the hell are you doing?" Douglas's voice was different. Angry. Completely angry. Martin hadn't ever heard him so angry.
He'd made someone else angry. Go figure.
"Thinking..." he muttered.
"Martin, I found you on a rooftop about-" Douglas's voice broke off suddenly. Martin had a notion to look up at him, but he couldn't bring himself to.
"Martin, why?"
Why? That was a rather dumb question, if Martin could have any opinion about it. Why did anyone ever get depressed? He wasn't about to explain.
"Martin, you..." Douglas trailed off. Martin felt him sigh heavily. "You..." They abruptly slid to the ground. Douglas's arms around him didn't loosen, perhaps only tightened, pulling him closer to his chest.
Inexplicably, his eyes started to sting again.
Oh.
Oh no.
He couldn't.
He couldn't cry in front of Douglas Richardson.
He couldn't-
Tears started rolling down his cheeks.
He made a very odd, highly embarrassing squeaking noise, out of surprise, perhaps, as those tears started feeling. He brought his fingers up to his cheeks to brush them away.
"Martin..." Douglas muttered. He didn't sound angry any more. He sounded... sounded...
Martin twisted around and buried his face against Douglas's chest, his withheld tears escaping with uncontrollable sobs.