Martin was late. Martin was never late.

And yet he was.

It was a conundrum, one that Douglas couldn't help but be inclined to solve. And considering how dreadful Martin had looked the night before, he couldn't help but have the slightest amount of fear buried somewhere deep inside that curiosity.

"Douglas! Where's Martin?" Carolyn trilled.

"I'm assuming in his room, unless he's taken up sleepwalking."

"Let me rephrase that, where is he that he isn't here?"

Carolyn gestured to the lobby of the 'hotel', which was where they'd planned on meeting before driving to pick up their client and back to the airport.

"You know how I didn't know ten seconds ago? Well I still don't know."

"Well, go and find him then!"

"Can I go mum?" Arthur chirped.

"Yes, alright, fine. You all form a Martin search party and bring him back."

"Brilliant!" Arthur grinned.

Douglas sighed and held out his hand. "Key?"

Carolyn frowned, but dropped it into his hand after digging it out of her purse. "I'm not going to ask," she muttered.

"As you should. Come on Arthur."

Arthur trailed on his heels like a puppy, rambling on about something that Douglas couldn't be bothered to listen to. When he stopped abruptly in front of Martin's room, Arthur nearly ran into him.

"Sorry," he offered.

Douglas only sighed and knocked on Martin's door, giving him the opportunity to answer it before he barged in. He did have standards.

"Come on Captain," he called. "You're going to be late for a flight."

Douglas knew that would rouse Martin out of even the deepest of sleeps. Somewhere in his brain an alarm went off if the words 'late' and 'flight' were used in the same sentence.

It spoke volumes that this didn't have an effect today.

"Maybe he's in the shower?" Arthur offered.

Douglas sighed and tried to retain his composure. "If he was, we would hear the water running."

"Oh. Right. Maybe he just got out of the shower?"

Douglas shook his head. "Our esteemed captain would not take a shower if he knew he was running short on time."

"I could break down the door! I've been watching a lot of those old movies where the cops break down the door with a kick!"

Douglas dangled the key in front of Arthur. "Or..."

Arthur's face fell. "Oh yeah."

"Besides," Douglas added, fiddling with the key in the door as he spoke, "Your mother would not be pleased with having to pay the hotel for breaking the door."

Arthur sighed, and Douglas knew he was thinking it over. "Probably..." he mumbled. "Still, it would've been cool..." he trailed off as Douglas opened the door to Martin's room and stepped inside.

It was still as cold as it was the night before, and Douglas honestly didn't know how Martin managed to sleep in it. He should have insisted that he bunk with Arthur, who was only too pleased to have him.

Martin wasn't in the bathroom, as Douglas suspected, and that only left the lump on the bed.

"Martin," he called softly, approaching the bed. He did not stir.

He knelt down next to his captain and switched the small bedside lamp on.

Martin was wrapped, tangled really, in the blankets, including the extra one Douglas had finagled for him. He looked awful. Worse than last night, all pale and yet still flushed.

Douglas placed a hand on his forehead. Hot. Despite spending a night in a room that was about the ambient temperature of a refrigerator, Martin was still burning up with a fever.

"Arthur," he ordered. "Go get your mother. We won't be flying out this morning."

Arthur looked like he wanted to protest, but only nodded and ran off.

Douglas shook Martin by the shoulder.

"Martin," he said firmly. "Martin, wake up."

He was finally rewarded with one eye opening a slit.

"Douglas?" he croaked.

"Yes Martin. You're late for the flight," he said kindly.

Martin struggled to sit up. "What? But I-"

He couldn't finish the sentence for coughing, a terrible hacking that Douglas associated only with eighty year old smokers and people with tuberculosis. (Not that he'd really had any experience with either, but still.)

Douglas eased Martin back down onto the pillow in a sort of slumped over sitting position.

"You are in no state to fly," he informed him. "Surely you know that."

Martin was still gasping for breath after the coughing fit, only managing to nod weakly at Douglas.

"If anything," he continued, "You should be going to hospital."

Martin began to speak. "No, that's really not nec-" but was overcome by another coughing fit.

It wracked his impossibly thin body, which looked ridiculously young in Arthur's pyjamas, giving him the essence of a small child despite his years. Douglas feared he was going to pass out for all the gasping he did in between the choking coughs, but he finally collapsed backwards on the pillow, gasping for breath, but still conscious.

"Let me see your fingers," Douglas ordered.

Martin glared at him, but something under the blankets stirred. Douglas realized that perhaps it was too difficult for Martin to untangle them himself, so he traced Martin's arm down from his shoulder, to his elbow, and finally found his fingers at the end of the maze.

He pulled them out and looked at them under the light.

It was then that Carolyn returned with a sheepish Arthur in tow.

"What is going on?" she screeched. "Arthur comes to tell me that weren't not flying out today, and that we'll have to cancel our client-"

She was cut off when Martin began coughing again, the third fit in as many minutes.

As soon as Martin finished, Douglas set his hand down and went over to stand by Carolyn. Arthur took his position kneeling next to his Skip.

"Carolyn," he said quietly, ensuring that neither could hear him. "Martin needs to go to hospital now. We need to call an ambulance."

"What?"

"He's very sick. Probably pneumonia, although I wouldn't put it past him to have pneumonia and something else going on at the same time."

"Are you sure about the hospital? I mean, people get sick all the time with pneumonia and don't need to go."

"Carolyn, his fingernails and lips are tinted blue. He's not getting enough oxygen. He needs to go to the hospital for antibiotics, fluids, and breathing treatments. This is not optional," he said firmly.

Carolyn sighed. "Oh, alright. I'll go talk to someone who runs this place. Who knows where the nearest hospital is!" she declared, throwing her hands up in the air.

A murmur came from the bed.

"Martin, was that you?" Douglas asked. Arthur nodded. He stepped closer. "What is it?"

"Bodo," he murmured. "The nearest hospital." His eyes were closed again.

"Right. Carolyn, go get the car," he ordered. "Arthur, you load all the stuff in it. Pack up Martin's stuff for him."

Carolyn frowned, hovering in the doorway. "Why?"

Douglas glared at her. "Because we're going to drive him there. I was going to say we call an ambulance, but that will be at least 15 minutes for it to get here, probably more. Then there's the trip back. It will be faster if we take him ourselves."

She nodded and headed off.

Arthur began opening all the drawers in the room, looking for Martin's things.

"Didn't unpack," he muttered.

"Arthur, Martin says he didn't unpack."

"Just... th'desk."

"Just the stuff on the desk."

Arthur nodded and began stuffing the items from the desk into Martin's flight bag. Douglas felt Martin wince underneath the blankets. He had a very particular order and system for how he packed the bag, and Arthur was not at all sticking to it.

Douglas took that opportunity to distract him.

"When did this start?"

Martin worked hard to focus blurry eyes on him. He was obviously having difficulty thinking, which was no doubt due to the lack of oxygen and fever.

"B'fore Florida?"

Douglas ran through the trips in his head. Unlike Martin, he didn't have them all committed to memory. Florida was at least a week and a half ago, and he remembered Martin being sick before then.

Dammit Martin. I told you to go see a doctor and you didn't listen. Now whatever you had has developed into pneumonia.

"Next time, I am taking you to the doctor's myself," he said kindly.

Martin tried to smile, but began coughing and couldn't seem to stop. Douglas was growing more and more concerned each time he began coughing, as the fits seemed to get longer and worse every time. He wondered how long it would be until he didn't have breaks in between them, and just couldn't catch his breath all the time.

After we get to the hospital, he promised himself. He can do that after we get to the hospital.