Douglas' eyelids were heavy. He blinked slowly into wakefulness. He felt a comfortable weight on his chest, and it took him a moment to realize it was Martin. Douglas thought he ought to wake Martin and make him drink something, but he was so cold and moving just seemed like an awful lot of work. He glanced down at Martin who was disconcertingly still.
Douglas shifted slightly, "Martin."
Martin didn't move. Douglas nudged him.
"Martin," he tried again.
Martin didn't respond. Douglas felt his concern ratchet up a notch. He shifted so he could lay Martin flat on the seat. He put two fingers to Martin's neck. It was ice cold, but Douglas suspected his own neck would have felt the same. He couldn't find a pulse the first time, so he tried again. He tried to quell the rapidly rising panic. Nothing. He tried again, still no pulse.
"Martin!" Douglas put his hand on Martin's chest but there was no movement, "Martin, hey!"
He knew he was bordering on hysteria. Maybe it was the cold or the stress but he could only muster a fraction of the rigorous control he usually had over his emotions. Pushing down the panic, Douglas grasped Martin by the shoulders and hauled the prone man outside the car and deposited him gently on the ground. The snow was swirling around them in angry eddies, but Douglas needed a solid surface for CPR. He put both hands over Martin's dormant heart and began chest compressions, counting each one under his breath and all too aware of how much pressure he had to exert for the resuscitation attempt to be effective. After 30, he paused to breath into Martin's mouth twice, then resumed the compressions. With each second that passed with no response, Douglas' despair grew.
"Martin!" He called, "Damn it, Martin, wake up!"
He maintained the pattern for one cycle, two cycles, three cycles… He felt at least one rib crack.
"Martin. Oh hell, Martin, please," he pleaded.
His eyes blurred slightly but he blinked until they cleared and continued on. Four cycles, five cycles… Douglas knew the chances of Martin recovering dropped with each passing second, but he wouldn't- couldn't allow himself to give up on Martin, his captain, his best friend. Six cycles… Douglas was flagging. He couldn't keep it up much longer. Seven cycles…
Martin erupted into strangled, gasping breaths. Douglas nearly choked in relief, and quickly helped Martin onto his side. They stayed like that for a long time; Martin sucking in breaths, and Douglas crouched next to him providing comfort through his presence. When Martin's breathing had somewhat normalized, Douglas drew Martin into a clumsy one-armed hug.
"You bloody idiot, you nearly died for good this time," Douglas admonished, his voice rough.
Martin gave a little squeak of pain and Douglas let him go immediately.
"Ribs- hurt," Martin grated out.
"Ah, yes… Sorry about that," Douglas winced sympathetically, "Come on, let's get back inside."
He gingerly helped Martin up, careful not to jostle his ribs. When they were both back inside the car, Martin was wheezing and looked like he was about to pass out again.
"Now don't fall asleep. We have to bind those ribs," Douglas said. He used the scissors from the first aid kit to cut a few strips off of his sweater, "Ok, Martin I know it's cold but I'm going to need you to remove your coats and shirt."
Martin grimaced, but started to shrug out of his jacket. He had one arm out when he stopped abruptly and the colour drained from his face.
"Douglas," he gasped, "a little help?"
It was slow-going but eventually they managed to get Martin out of his many layers of coats. Douglas frowned at the state of Martin's chest, which was starting to blossom with fresh bruises.
He wound the strips of fabric around where the bruises were the most concentrated and tied them securely. Martin hissed in pain a couple times, but otherwise remained silent. Martin was shivering violently by the time Douglas finished. Douglas helped Martin back into his sweaters. Martin sank into his seat and closed his eyes.
"Martin?"
"Hm?"
"Keep talking to me."
"Why?"
"I… I just think it's best." Douglas knew his fear was unfounded, but the thought of Martin falling asleep again, and perhaps not waking up this time, terrified him.
"Ok. W-what do you want to talk about?"
Douglas thought for a few moments, then said, "How's your mother doing?"
"Fine." Martin shrugged and crossed his arms, shivering.
"Just 'fine'?"
"I… we haven't t-talked in awhile…" Martin trailed off.
"Why not?"
"Er… s-she always asks h-how things are going… with the van and such… and, w-well you know I'm a r-rubbish liar."
"So?"
"'So' what?"
"How are things going with the van?"
"Oh, well… n-not very good," Martin said, "People- people don't want to hire a man with a van-that's-barely-still-a-van."
"Martin," Douglas sighed, "You should have said something. I could have loaned you some money to fix your van at least."
Douglas didn't mention that he would have gladly just given Martin the money, because he knew Martin's pride would never allow him to accept a handout like that.
"I'm n-not sure even y-you have that kind of m-money, Douglas," Martin chattered.
"You underestimate me." Douglas smirked.
Martin only shivered.
"You know I mean it, right?" Douglas instantly grew serious.
"Yeah… thanks." Martin smiled hesitantly. He blew a breath out and scooted closer to Douglas. Douglas leaned slightly into Martin. They stayed huddled that way for a while, until eventually Martin's breathing evened out and Douglas could tell he'd fallen asleep. Douglas stayed awake by keeping Martin's earlier cardiac incident at the forefront of his mind as a stark reminder of what could happen should he fall asleep again.
Martin awoke to raised voices and faces hovering over him. He picked out Douglas, looking more pale and anxious than Martin had ever seen him, Arthur, grinning broadly, Carolyn looking worried but in control, but there were also two or maybe three faces he didn't recognize. They seemed to be talking to him, all at once, but it might as well have been in another language for how much he understood of it. He struggled to make sense of what was happening for a few moments, then gave up and allowed his eyelids to slide shut again.
Douglas had been alerted to the arrival of Carolyn and Arthur by the raucous rattling of a truck pulling up next to the broken down car. He cracked the door open to see two burly, bearded men jump out of the massive truck and jog over to the car. They were quickly followed by Carolyn and Arthur who, Douglas noted, were both now wearing jackets that were considerably too large for them.
One of the men, the taller, spoke to Douglas, "Y'alright in there?" He had a thick Scottish accent.
"I'm fine but Martin needs immediate medical attention," Douglas said, swinging the door open. He clambered out of the cramped car but had to lean on Arthur until the paresthesia in his legs abated. The shorter of the two men gingerly lifted Martin from the car and carried him over to the truck. Douglas kept a close eye on Martin, who seemed to regain consciousness momentarily but not fully. The rest of MJN Air followed him and soon they were all loaded in the truck with Martin crammed in the back seat between Douglas and Arthur. The shorter bearded man started the car and cranked up the heater. He turned to look into the back seat.
"Plenty o' blankets back there for your mate," he said, although Douglas had already wrapped the thick quilts around his prone captain.
"What about Graham?" Arthur asked, pointing out the window where the other man was hunched over the open hood of the broken-down car.
"Now don't worry 'bout my brother. Reckons he can fix your car and I told him he might as well take a crack. 'Sides, he's got his satphone if he decides it's beyond his skills and wants a ride home. Ay, I'm Baldwin by the way, that's me brother Graham," the man said to Douglas.
"It's truly lovely to meet you, Baldwin, however I would greatly appreciate it if we could get Martin to a hospital," Douglas said levelly.
"Of course," Baldwin said hastily. He started turning the car around. The four-wheel drive cut through the snow with no problem.
The drive was far from smooth. Douglas kept one arm wrapped firmly around Martin to keep him from being jostled too much.
"How is he?" Carolyn asked.
"Not good," Douglas said simply. It was an understatement but he didn't want to go into detail with Arthur in earshot.
Carolyn nodded grimly in understanding.
"Douglas…" Martin rasped faintly.
"Skip! How do you feel?" Arthur chirped.
Martin gave a pained grunt in response. His hair was damp with sweat, his face pale and drawn.
"Right. Stupid question."
"Martin," Douglas said, "We're on our way to the hospital. You're going to be fine"
Martin coughed painfully and attempted a smile, "If… if you say so," he grated out.
"I do." Douglas said flatly, fixing Martin with an earnest stare.
Martin reddened slightly and broke eye-contact. He started to try to escape from the quilt he was enveloped in.
"Oh no you don't," Douglas said, placing a hand on Martin's chest to stop him.
"But 'm hot," Martin protested weakly.
"That's because you have a fever. Your body temperature is probably still too low though."
Martin looked like he was about to protest, then he stopped moving suddenly and stiffened. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled forward.
"Martin!"
"Skip!"
"MARTIN!"
The other three members of MJN Air shouted at once. Douglas caught Martin before he could hit anything, and cushioned the pilot's head as he convulsed.
"He's having a seizure." Douglas said, trying to maintain his composure for the others' sakes.
"What do we do?" Carolyn demanded.
"There's nothing we can do but make sure he doesn't hurt himself further."
Martin stopped shaking after less than a minute, although it felt like hours to Douglas. Arthur grabbed Martin's hand and held it tight. Carolyn looked like the was trying to will them to arrive at the hospital sooner. Douglas absently smoothed a hand over Martin's hair. Baldwin pressed harder on the gas pedal.
They were met by a flurry of medical staff at the door of the Emergency Room. They swiftly strapped Martin into a gurney. Douglas briefly explained to one of the nurses what he knew of Martin's condition before the ginger pilot was whisked away by the doctors. Douglas had to suppress the brief flash of panic that arose in him when Martin disappeared around the corner.
Baldwin led the way to the waiting area and Douglas collapsed into a chair. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The adrenaline that had fueled him for the past few hours was beginning to wear off. Douglas couldn't wipe away the image of Martin's pale face, the feeling of his icy skin beneath Douglas' hands. Douglas had always considered himself the epitome of 'cool, calm, and collected', but the events of the day had left far more shaken than he remembered feeling in a long time.
"Douglas." Carolyn was standing over him. "The doctors want to check you out."
"What? I'm fine."
"They just want to make sure there were no adverse effects from the cold," Carolyn said.
Douglas sighed and made to stand, but his knees protested sharply and he fell back into the chair.
"Douglas!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Whoa, whoa," Carolyn said, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" Douglas snapped. It came out harsher than he had intended. He took a deep breath then said, softer, "I'm fine. It's Martin you should be worrying about, not me."
"Martin is in very capable hands. There's nothing else we can do now but be here for him," Carolyn said brusquely.
Douglas sighed again, "I know."
"Now do you think you can make it to an exam room or do I need to get Baldwin to carry you?"
Baldwin grinned and winked at Douglas.
Douglas treated Carolyn to a brief glare. "I think I'll manage."
When the doctors were satisfied that Douglas was healthy and only suffering from a case of minor frostnip, he was allowed to return to the waiting area where Carolyn and Arthur were seated. He noted that Baldwin was gone.
"Well?" Carolyn said when he approached them.
"The doctor prescribed two bottles of Talisker scotch in the morning and two before bed," Douglas said.
"But Douglas you don't-" Arthur began.
"Yes, yes, Arthur, we know," Carolyn cut him off, "Douglas, Martin's doctor came while you were gone."
"And?" Douglas tried not to let his voice betray his apprehension.
"She said they're trying to determine what particular bacteria is causing the pneumonia so they can begin specific antibiotics. For now they have him on a respirator and fluids; he's very dehydrated."
Douglas nodded, "Did she say when we can see him?"
"After he stabilizes a bit and is moved out of the ICU. It could be a few hours though. She suggested we find a hotel in the mean time."
"I'll stay here."
If Carolyn was surprised she didn't show it. "Ok. Come along, Arthur."
The two went to the front desk where Carolyn borrowed the phone. Douglas leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, really wishing he had his flight bag so he could change out of his sweat-soaked, snow-damp clothes and maybe clean himself off a little in the bathroom. He settled for buying a coffee from the cafeteria and sipping it slowly as he paced the length of the waiting room. He made it through three coffees before Carolyn and Arthur returned.
"Alright, you," Carolyn said, tossing Douglas' bag at him "We have two rooms at the hotel down the street, go shower and change and then you can come back here and resume wearing a hole in the floor. I promise it will still be here when you get back."
"How did you get it?" Douglas said, holding up his bag. He'd left it behind in the broken down car.
"Graham fixed the car. Turns out it was a minor mechanical problem."
"Of course it was," Douglas muttered.
Carolyn handed him a ring of keys, "Here are the keys, the car is out front. Go to the hotel and shower and change, then you can come back here. I promise we'll call you at the hotel if there's any news."
"Ok… But call me if there's any news at all. Anything," Douglas said, reluctantly taking the keys.
"Of course. Oh, and Douglas?" Carolyn called, halting Douglas before the door.
"Hm?"
"Room 112."
"Ah," Douglas let out an involuntary gasp as the scalding water streamed over him, relieving him of some of the chill that seemed to have seeped into his bones over the course of this trip. He made the shower as short as he could stand, eager to return to the hospital as quickly as possible. After he'd completely washed the cheap hotel shampoo from his hair, Douglas wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the shower into the muggy bathroom. He rubbed his hand on the fogged up mirror until he could see himself in the spot he'd wiped. He allowed his gaze to linger on the frown lines creasing his face, the russet-brown hair tinged with grey at the temples, the dark circles under his eyes that were a temporary souvenir from the past few days. He could recall the days when nothing could rattle him. In college and med school he'd been delightfully unattached. Untouchable. That air of invincibility had first been shaken when he'd fallen for his first wife. It was as if a piece of his heart had been removed and put out into the world, and whenever something hurt her he felt that pain as if it were his own. It was a terrifying feeling, one that he sought to protect himself from from then on. After his divorce with his first wife, he didn't feel that specific kind of connection again for a long while, at least not until Martin came to work for MJN.
Douglas left the bathroom. He pulled a t shirt on.
Martin. Uptight, by the book, pain-in-the-neck, 'Supreme Commander' Martin. There was something different about him from the moment Douglas first met him. Something that made Douglas decide to give him a chance before he ran him off like he had done with all of the other captains. And then suddenly it had been weeks and Martin was a part of MJN and Douglas' life and there was nothing Douglas could do about it, even if he'd wanted to.
Douglas fastened his belt and ran a comb through his hair.
He had first experienced that terrifying feeling of vulnerability a few months after Martin started. They were in Kecskemét for a few nights, flying a round-trip for a client. Douglas had returned to their shared hotel room after a night exploring the city and he'd found Martin in the bathroom sporting a black eye, a bloody lip, and trying to hide his tearstained cheeks. Douglas had struggled to control his anger. He'd threatened to find whoever was responsible and pay them back twofold. Martin had explained it had been a mugging, and some of Douglas' rage was replaced with fear. A random act of violence like this could befall anyone and there was nothing Douglas could do to protect Martin from everything dangerous in the world.
Douglas descended the hotel stairs and exited the front door. He was unsettled by the flood of memories. He tried to push them down as he climbed into the borrowed car and started it up.