Hello and thank you to all my readers. Here's the next chapter, please do enjoy it
St Petersburg
Deborah gripped the edges of the arms of her seat until she could feel the tendons in her fingers trembling with the effort, and worked on steadying her juddering chest as she stared without quite seeing through GERTI's front window, her mind blank and whirring ineptly as it produced a sort of electrical fuzzing in her ears.
Detachedly she thought 'shock', but to be honest, she was still far too frozen stiffly in shock to make a reasoned diagnosis; that, and too many things were filtering into her mental list of 'things to do' for her body to have any time to collapse into shock.
GERTI was still humming, but other than that she was eerily silent; Deborah mused ridiculously that it was typical of the plane to forgo the alarms when they actually probably needed them.
A slight thudding made her turn her head sharply towards the sound, startling, and Deborah let out a small sharp sigh at the sight of Martin's hand grasping clumsily across the space between them; he was still looking straight ahead, other hand clinging to the controls, and his face was more blanched than she had ever seen it.
Without thinking, Deborah slipped her hand clumsily into his, and was brought somewhat back into awareness by the stinging pain in her ligaments as Martin squeezed her hand in a vice-like grip; no matter, it helped to feel him right there, a tangible thing to cling to as she looked back through the window.
They had overshot the runway just a little, and from the look of things (and the way the plane had thudded and lurched upon landing) the front wheels had skidded off the tarmac and onto the grass.
It could have been far worse; they may not have been in the air long, but that simply meant that they had climbed just high enough for a crash landing to be dangerous, but not high enough to have oodles of time to pull off emergency manoeuvres with any degree of confidence in their success.
So all in all, it could have been far worse.
"Oh God!" Martin groaned, and Deborah turned back to him, letting herself fall back against her seat, forcing the tension to leave her shoulders as she held firmly onto his hand; she wasn't entirely sure what to say as Martin closed his eyes and lifted his shaking free hand to press over the top of his face, knocking his hat backwards as he did, "We're okay – are we okay? We didn't just die and think we're okay?"
Deborah shook her head, but at first no words came out as Martin lowered his hand and opened his eyes, pressing his hat back onto his head and turning to lay his eyes over her, tracing up and down with a restrained intensity as he shivered back into his seat; despite his trembling, a strange sort of calm had come over him, and his voice was low as if he were sluggish. That worried her more than anything.
"No, no, we're alright." Deborah answered, smiling weakly, unable to maintain the motion; instead she simply squeezed his hand some more, focusing on the feel of his palm against hers, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Martin replied hastily, nodding with his lips pressed tightly together; for once no sarcastic remarks took root in Deborah's mind as she waited for him to mentally collect himself, "Yes, I'm fine…are you alright?"
At this Martin squeezed her hand with a renewed intensity, turning his upper half fully in his seat; Deborah nodded silently, and Martin's eyebrows narrowed, and he lifted their joined hands to brush the back of his knuckles against her cheek.
"Good – I'm good, we're both good." Deborah choked out, nodding hastily and exhaling raggedly; her head still wasn't settling on one decent train of thought, but Martin's relieved but still concerned expression brought to mind one thing of importance, "That was good…you did well, that was a good landing."
"No - " Martin scoffed, his face contorting into a sort of twisted laughing grimace before drooping as he pushed at his hat again, turning to stare out of the window, "It wasn't, it was a mess - "
"The alternative would have been a flaming wreck." Deborah interrupted dryly; she rubbed her thumb over the protrusion on his finger as she tugged on his hand and brought his attention back onto her, "You did well…well done."
Martin nodded, and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth, but he seemed to understand; Deborah at least hoped that that was what the lightening around his eyes meant. She barely had enough energy left to spare for his mithering, even though she couldn't take her eyes from him.
"Thanks…" Martin trailed off, and his cheeks tinged pink as he cleared his throat and closed his eyes again, slumping tentatively back into his seat, having regained the tension in his limbs once more.
Deborah sighed, and then inhaled raggedly, and sighed again, focusing on taking the shivering in her other limbs and pushing that energy into the hand that she refused to unwind from Martin's. As she laid the side of her head against the back of her seat and gazed across the flight-deck at him, confident that he wouldn't notice, Deborah was only able to pull out certain things from the rush of thoughts and emotions that were emerging like rabid wasps from the numbness.
God, she didn't want to stop looking at him, all tucked up primly in his Captain's uniform, pressed yet ruffled slightly from the rush when the alarms began blaring, his jaw set from stress just as it had been set before in determination; Deborah would have even traded this nervous calm for the spluttering and blushing of everyday. She just soaked it in, revelling in the sight that was just so beautiful after the fright that she was still almost trembling from.
She didn't even want to think about what she would have done if they had botched the landing…if anything had happened to him…Deborah couldn't cling to his hand hard enough, wanted to lurch across the flight-deck and just wrap her arms around him, or bury herself in his chest and let him hold her, or…
The flight-deck door slammed open, and the both of them couldn't turn quickly enough in their seats to see Carolyn freeze in the doorway before they heard her irritable huffed groan, gripping either side of the frame as she shook her head and scowled, cheeks sucked in as if she were holding back from tearing into them.
"Oh, I see that the correct procedure upon emergency landing is to sit in silence and let the cabin crew play pot luck on whether you're dead or not." Carolyn snapped, pointedly ignoring the fact that their hands were still joined between them, as Arthur appeared at her shoulder, "I didn't notice that in the safety manual last time you forced us to review it Martin."
"Sorry Carolyn, we're fine." Martin replied hastily, peering across the flight deck, shooting Deborah a brief glance as if to confirm just one more time that he was correct, "What about you two? Are you alright?"
Carolyn stepped further into the flight-deck until she could rest with one arm propping her up on the back of Martin's seat, and Arthur bundled in behind her, looking about the space like a drugged terrier, checking that everything was in the right place.
"Yeah, we're okay Skip." Arthur assured him, though his voice was trembling imperceptibly; Deborah attempted a small smile when his eyes fell on her, but she suspected that it didn't have the desired effect, "Are you okay Deborah? You look a bit peaky."
"I think that's acceptable given the circumstances." Deborah retorted weakly, as Carolyn rolled her eyes, but still terrifyingly peered down at her with something akin to concern; that alone was enough to spur her into action, or as near to it as she could manage, "Shouldn't someone be getting ready to talk to the fire crew and engineers?"
"I should do that," Martin interjected as Carolyn opened her mouth to speak; he took the hat from his head to grip it against his chest like a comfort blanket, but didn't let go of Deborah's hand, "as the Captain."
"Martin, you look as if you're about to keel over." Carolyn said sternly, shaking her head, "The only place you're going is into the airport with Arthur. I will stay here with Deborah and talk to the engineers."
Martin opened his mouth as if to argue, but looked to Deborah for confirmation; giving his hand one last squeeze, Deborah nodded tiredly, and uncurled her fingers from around his. Martin huffed, but nodded resignedly, slouching back in his seat.
It was going to be a long day, and Deborah couldn't help but fear the worst; on the bright side, everyone was fine…she just wished that they could enjoy that truth for a little while longer before the bureaucracy needed tending to.
oOoOoOo
On the walk back to the others, Deborah was fully prepared to remain silent and be allowed to stew in her own misery while Carolyn stewed in hers; except she knew too well that though vengeful to a tee, Carolyn was not the sort to stew. The only things that she allowed to linger were positive and driving emotions, like revenge, or hatred, or ambition; depression, loss, and dejection were things that hardly touched the surface.
That was what set the women apart really; while Deborah was busy picking at the threads of her epaulets as she walked with her arms folded over her chest, mourning the inevitable disintegration of what was currently her life, Carolyn took the news on the chin, trundled on with a resigned shrug, and began thinking of how to dismantle it herself before the world did it for her.
GERTI was fixable, in theory; the only problem was that they didn't have the money to fix her. Deborah knew what this meant, and so did Carolyn, but neither of them mentioned it; when the engineers had walked away, Deborah had smiled wanly at Carolyn, to show that she had her back should she desire any moral support (though she wouldn't say that out loud either), and Carolyn had merely nodded gratefully, called her useless, and told her to get a move on.
"Good job on the landing by the way." Carolyn remarked as they passed a group of security guards; Deborah startled from her thoughts, and glanced sideways in confusion, to see that Carolyn was looking ahead, a counter against her compliment, "All things considered, nearly getting my head bashed in on the seat in front was quite a feat."
"What?" Deborah retorted wearily, and then realised what had been said; she shook her head and pursed her lips distractedly, "No, that wasn't me."
"Not you?" Carolyn repeated, then her eyes widened and she gaped dramatically, raising a hand into the air as if she could catch the truth; Deborah still didn't have the energy to mock her for it, "You let Martin take that landing?"
"I didn't let Martin do anything." Deborah replied, swallowing down a flare of indignation on Martin's behalf; it would be silly to get worked up when he could manage that just fine on his own, "He's the Captain, and he made a command decision."
"But why didn't you override it?" Carolyn demanded, her voice laced with disbelief as she made special efforts to catch Deborah's eye, as if to identify any faults, "I'm all for letting the boy learn, but -"
"Carolyn, if I didn't trust him to take control, I wouldn't have let him." Deborah cut her off, rolling her eyes and sighing exhaustedly, looking away from the other woman as they made their way through the more populated part of the airport, "But Martin is capable, and he is Captain, so I followed the orders that I was given on the understanding that I trusted him to land us safely."
Deborah managed to take another three or four steps before she noticed that Carolyn had ground to a halt; she turned on her heel, and waited for Carolyn to wander back to her side, eyebrows quirked in perplexed suspicion. On second thought, she supposed that perhaps she was being far too submissive at the moment, still thrown by the landing and the plane; but Deborah wasn't lying, she really did trust Martin's judgement.
"Deborah, what has been going on between you and Martin lately?" Carolyn inquired, carefully, as if she would rather not know at all, as they returned to their measured pace; she brought her hands together at her front and glared expectantly.
"I can honestly say Carolyn I have no idea what you mean." Deborah replied dryly, tugging her arms a little tighter around her chest and trying not to frown.
She knew exactly what Carolyn meant. On top of everything else, GERTI, their jobs, the lingering shock, Deborah also had to deal with the sudden cementation of how she felt about Martin; the wishy washy uncertainty of where the attraction and friendship and other feelings all fit together was irrelevant, because she now knew exactly how she felt. But the last person Deborah wanted to discuss that with was Carolyn.
Thankfully though, Deborah caught sight of Martin sitting dejectedly on a steel bench, cup of coffee in his hand as he talked quietly to Arthur, who was standing over him looking equally pale, but far more optimistic.
"Martin." Deborah declared her presence, feeling a rush of affection flutter in her chest for the first time when he turned around in his seat, and smiled at the sight of their approach; he was still pale, but the shaking had stopped, and he seemed to be weighted down by the same dreary tiredness that she was.
As she rounded the bench, Martin extended his hand and motioned for her to come and sit beside him, waggling his fingers slowly, placing the coffee cup on his other side; Deborah smiled warmly and reached her hand out to meet him, intertwining her fingers with his, feeling better at the touch.
"Hello." Martin greeted them; as Carolyn came to stand before them, he pulled Deborah gently down to sit beside him, not putting his arm around her, but letting her rest against his side so close that their arms overlapped and he could keep his hand curled around hers, "What's the news?"
"Bird strike, as we thought." Carolyn confirmed, acknowledging Martin's disappointed grimace with a sympathetic nod of her head.
"A big one." Deborah added wearily, turning her attention to her nails, picking at the side of her thumb and glancing up at Martin to judge his reaction, "Probably a goose."
"Oh no! Is it all right?" Arthur exclaimed, his face taking on a stricken pallor as he gazed imploringly down at her.
"What, the goose?" Deborah asked, quirking an eyebrow; she still couldn't find it in herself to be either entertained or exasperated, and thought that her voice actually came out sounding rather strained, "Yes, Arthur, it's fine. It'll have a bit of a headache, but a hell of a story for the goslings."
"Phew!" Arthur replied, shoulders sagging in relief; Deborah rolled her eyes, but smiled fondly and fleetingly up at him, for the sake of peace if nothing else.
While the three of them discussed the state of GERTI and the most beneficial options in terms of the company, in particular the inability to maintain the company with little money and no legitimate options, Deborah sighed and let herself slump sadly, resting her head on Martin's shoulder while the rest of them talked amongst themselves.
She had worked it all out herself, and mused that it would have been preferable to just go to sleep and forget their predicament for a few hours; Martin was comfortable, and more important, comforting, which was exactly what Deborah wanted in that moment.
It was just a shame that Carolyn and Arthur probably wouldn't react too well to her turning and just snuggling into him; then again, she wasn't sure if Martin would either.
Carolyn wouldn't listen to Deborah's suggestions that she call her ex-husband, and though Deborah couldn't criticise the sentiment on principle (the idea of calling Harry for help made me cringe) her steadfast refusal only added to the overall atmosphere of uselessness. The only saving grace was that Martin played gently with her fingers the entire time, apparently unconsciously.
And then Arthur's flat out refusal to accept that Deborah wouldn't fix everything just made her want to slam her head down and pretend he wasn't there as she argued her case, feeling the mental exhaustion creeping behind her eyelids. As flattering as his faith in her was, she didn't appreciate it; Deborah had had enough of people's high expectations of her. They had ruined what she had had with Harry, and created hours of boredom with the grounds people in Fitton; the one thing that ensured she and Martin worked so well was the fact that for all that he complained about her winning all the time, he was under no illusions that Deborah wasn't fallible.
It was a relief to be dismissed, even if they were being banished to the shoddy canteen. Deborah insisted that they pass through the pilot's lounge, where Martin had stashed their bags while the engineers poked around the plane, so that she could check her phone, and Martin had come along without question.
The pilot's lounge was empty when they arrived, as it was only six in the morning in St Petersburg, something for which Deborah was relieved. When they entered, Martin wandered into the room and stood by her side, though she didn't make any move to dig through her bag.
Deborah turned towards Martin and let her arms fall to her sides, her fingers curling restlessly as she sighed and met his eyes; his expression narrowed and he frowned in a sort of concerned manner, making as if to step forwards.
"What's-"
At that Deborah stepped forwards and flung her arms around him, pulling Martin into a hug and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, one hand pressing against his back, the other to the back of his neck as she buried her face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder, just holding him close.
"Hey – hey…" Martin exclaimed, bringing his arms up to wrap around her waist and pull her in more closely, squeezing before holding her a few inches away to try and run his eyes over her face even as his own flushed red; when that didn't quite work, he simply held her tightly, one hand stroking through her hair as he pressed his cheek to the top of her hair, "Come on now, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Deborah murmured, inwardly cursing as she sniffled a little, but relishing how perfect this felt, just about able to feel his chest rising and falling against hers, "I just didn't get to do this before Carolyn rushed me away, that's all."
Martin hummed under his breath, but didn't say anything in return; he merely swayed slightly and held onto her, every now and then turning his head as if to rest his lips against the top of hers.
Deborah ignored everything except the warmth of him pressed against her, and on relishing every second, brushing her thumbs back and forth where they lay on his back; for the last hour or so she had been aching to get back to him, and to get Martin on his own and forget everything for just a few moments. She didn't want to let him go, just to hold him and not let go of the flurrying in her chest and the one pinpointed thought in her head that had thundered into certainty once the plane was safely on the ground, and was only cemented and certified as she inhaled deeply and clung to him.
Deborah loved this man.
All of the other things, the kissing and the attraction, their friendship, the state of their relationship, the messy tangle of feelings that hung between them she didn't want to sort out…none of that was relevant because even if nothing ever happened between them, she loved Martin, so, so much…and she hadn't realised it until fraught with fear.
But she couldn't tell him, because that would be ridiculous. Taking one more moment for herself, Deborah pulled back, letting her hands slip to Martin's upper arms so that she could put a foot of space between them and look up at his face. She let out a shaky laugh when she realised that her eyes were prickling, and shook her head to distract Martin from that fact, pursing her lips though she knew it was pointless.
"Oh, Deborah…" Martin sighed warmly, making as if to pull her back, but settling for rubbing at where his hands lay just above her elbows when she didn't let him; his face was still flushed, but his blue eyes were dewy, "This can't just be about the landing."
"No, of course it's not…" Deborah retorted weakly, ducking her head as she swallowed hard; she didn't have it in her to lie or play nonchalant, "I just…are we going to be okay?"
Martin nodded slowly in understanding, and gaze her arms a little squeeze, rubbing his hands over her upper arms as if to warm her on a cold day, smiling tersely.
"Well, if MJN folds, then we're not strapped for cash, and I'm sure you'll all find new jobs, so-" he explained, but Deborah shook her head and raised her hands into the air, cutting him short; Martin's eyebrows furrowed, but he waited for her to wet her lips and gather her breath.
"That's not what I meant." Deborah remarked, having to pause as she found that her throat was sticking with emotion even as she cursed her own simplicity; slowly, she lifted her hands to place her fingers gently against Martin's cheeks, then her palms, holding his gaze as he blinked questioningly at the affectionate gesture, "I mean, if MJN falls apart, what's going to happen to us? I know that the only thing that's kept us together is the company, and that was fine when we were just colleagues…but we're...more now…Are we going to be okay?"
Martin opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again; Deborah feared for a moment that she had overstepped, and her thumbs froze where they had been turning small circles against his skin, but before she could step away, he had taken a hand from her arm and placed it over hers, then pulled her back into an embrace, tucking her into his arms.
The rush of relief and contentment as her heart lurched as Deborah curled his hands into the material of Martin's jacket was pushed aside as he began to murmur beside her ear, close enough that his breath was warm through her hair.
"Of course we're going to be okay, we're fine – why wouldn't we be okay?" Martin's odd calm evaporated, and Deborah could have laughed at how wonderful it was to have him spluttering again, gripping her tightly, "We'll be okay, y-you could even help me with Icarus to fill your time…" his chest heaved, and then he shifted to allow Deborah to lean back and meet his gaze, as he smiled shakily, "If you wanted, I mean."
"That would be nice." Deborah chuckled softly; then she remembered where they were, and that there was nothing to stop other pilots wandering in and finding the two of them wound around each other, red faced and on the verge of tears, and she let her hands slip from Martin's back and took another step back, folding her arms over her chest to replace the sensation of loss that remained when his arms fell from hers, "I'd like that."
"Good…" Martin replied, nodding hastily and far more than necessary; then he glanced abruptly around the room, and rubbed at the back of his neck, "We should – uh, we should probably get moving…"
Deborah hummed in agreement, quirking her eyebrows for emphasis, pleased when Martin chuckled awkwardly and shuffled his feet a bit as she quickly set about doing what she had said she was going to do and checked her phone.
If he slipped his hand into hers as they left the lounge and headed to the canteen, neither of them mentioned it.
oOoOoOo
Deborah had yet to find anything that was actually wrong about Gordon Shappey, but she could definitely see why he and Carolyn no longer clicked. He was grating…and not in the way that Martin was grating.
Martin was grating in the sense that if you weren't patient you might roll your eyes and walk away, and if you were patient, could find him wonderfully endearing.
Gordon was grating in the sense that he was polite to an extent, but you also wanted to walk away lest you slap him for saying something untoward or assuming; that, and Arthur's trepidation made Deborah's skin crawl as she tried to connect Gordon's gratingness with the implications that Arthur's nerves brought forth in her mind.
It was quite odd trying to associate the name of Shappey with someone so…un-Arthur-ish. Within moments of leading him to GERTI's hangar, Deborah found that she was immensely glad that Arthur was entirely and irrevocably Carolyn's son, and had turned out beautifully without a shred of his father.
Listening to the man talk, Deborah had never appreciated Herc more, nor how perfect he was for Carolyn. Although Herc was a perfectly adept challenger in their little debates, he would listen to Carolyn, concede when he was beaten, and try to lure her into his own passions.
Gordon however spoke straight over her, and very much looked down his nose at her. So all in all, though Gordon Shappey had done nothing to insult her personally, she was unwilling to be too friendly due to the surge of indignant offence on behalf of her employer and her son.
"Oh, look at the state of her," Gordon exclaimed, throwing a hand into the air the moment that he laid eyes on GERTI, who Deborah thought in all fairness looked rather good despite the charred and scrambled engine on one wing; the engineers that were already in the hangar glanced up at the exclamation, but didn't waver from their sorry inspections, "the bloody woman wants a hundred thousand for a plane she can't even look after properly?"
"Carolyn, does a perfectly good job at maintaining her company." Deborah replied curtly, flexing her fingers into the hat that she held professionally against her chest; upon hearing that Carolyn's ex was coming, Deborah had made her best efforts to appear professional so as not to let her down in front of the man, "Incidents aside, she's a competent and adept CEO."
Gordon shot her a doubtful look, and his eyebrow crept to his fading hairline as his lips scrunched in the corner.
"I'm sure she is, sweetheart," Gordon remarked wryly, wrinkling his nose in evident distaste, as he continued to walk around GERTI's base to inspect the damage; Deborah bristled at the statement, and inhaled slowly to bite back the snide retort on the tip of her tongue.
"That's Deborah or First Officer Richardson." Deborah replied sternly, quirking her eyebrow demonstratively, "I'm not a sweetheart, I am a highly skilled pilot for a professional airline, and regardless of your feelings towards my employer, I'd prefer it if I weren't dismissed or demeaned because of my gender."
Gordon paused in his trek around the plane, and regarded her with wide eyes, apparently surprised at her forwardness; Deborah made her best efforts to be polite yet stern, and couldn't help but feel a flare of pride at the response that it invoked.
"Oh, I didn't mean any offence." Gordon insisted, scoffing slightly through his nose as if it were no problem at all; it rather ruined any semblance of sincerity that he might have been attempting, "Not at all. I'm all for opportunities for women."
Deborah fought the temptation to roll her eyes at the patronising edge to 'opportunities', the hackles of the feminist within her rising just in case, and instead smiled stiffly.
"Thank you." She drawled sourly, detesting the taste of the words on her tongue; she rocked back on her heels and nodded towards GERTI, "Now, I think I'll leave you to it. Don't hold back if you need to come and ask for help."
oOoOoOo
Listening to Carolyn and Gordon arguing over prices, Deborah stayed by Arthur's side, one arm around his back, the other stroking soothingly up and down his arm as he watched his parents with a stricken and nervous paleness on his face that didn't belong there at all.
Martin stood at his other side, leaning back against the bare desk that came with the office, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he watched the proceedings with a steely expression on his face.
If the flare of protectiveness for Arthur hadn't been enough to set her against Gordon for good, the way that he was treating Carolyn made her furious enough to want to claw the stubbly skin from his cheeks; as it was, Carolyn could look after herself, and comforting Arthur was her greatest priority. She couldn't stand to see him upset.
"Oh yeah, I want it." Gordon growled sadistically, leering far too close to Carolyn, though the woman didn't waver at all, "And you know why I want it?"
"Yes!" Carolyn retorted, her nose wrinkling indignantly as she threw her hands into the air either side of her, "You want it out of spite because you hate the fact I got it in the divorce."
"No, no, no." Gordon batted his hands at her rolling his head so that he could glance about the room; then his expression flipped, and he scowled sarcastically, beginning to pace, "Oh, wait – yes. That's exactly why. And not so much that you took it off me, even though you couldn't fly the bloody thing; not even that you then used it to play airlines with one pilot who failed his CPL four times …"
Martin squeaked indignantly, and Deborah glared at Gordon with a renewed hatred, squaring her shoulders and stilling in her comforting of Arthur, who remained silently; nobody insulted Martin, and definitely not over that.
"… and one who got thrown out of Air England for having sticky fingers." Gordon continued; when Deborah gaped furiously, eyebrows rising threateningly, he smirked pointedly at her and pointed his finger at her from across the room as if settling a score, "Yeah, I've looked you up."
Deborah almost snapped back, but decided against it when she felt Arthur hunch into himself a fraction more beneath her hands; when she glanced up to check his miserably blank expression, she caught sight of Martin scowling angrily and rising up, his back straightening as his chest puffed out, his eyes burning into Gordon, though he didn't make a move.
"No, it's just because you called your airline My Jet Now. As soon as I heard that, I said to Hayley – she sends her love, by the way, though obviously she doesn't mean it – "Right," I said, "I'm having that back off her."" Gordon began to rant, pacing but making sure to keep Carolyn in his sights; Deborah had to admit even as she grew more and more irritable on her behalf, Carolyn was doing admirably, keeping her face set and never wavering under the onslaught.
"And you know what I'm gonna do with it? I'm gonna break it up for parts and sell the rest as scrap – except for the tail fin." Gordon enunciated more clearly, squaring himself like a faulty imitation of a mafia boss, but shrunken and embittered with age, "That I'm gonna ship back to England and hang above my mantelpiece … after, of course, I've re-sprayed it NYBJAMS – Not Your Bloody Jet Any More, Sweetheart."
"So, me and the guys are going to a hotel now." Gordon stilled, and drifted his hands in a facsimile of reason, as if presenting himself as a model businessman, "I'll be back in this office nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Either you're there and you take five hundred quid for it, like you know you have to, or you're not and I fly home happy in the knowledge that you're shafted."
When nobody said a word, Carolyn glaring him down with a stiff expression on her face that Deborah knew was just a very efficient way to stop herself from saying something that would only give Gordon the feeling of superiority that he wanted, he turned as if to leave.
"Dad?" Arthur asked dejectedly, making Gordon pause and turn back to the crew; Deborah's heart plummeted the instant that she saw the disinterest in his face and the slump of his posture, but she couldn't close her hands around Arthur's arm quickly enough to stop him from stepping forward, his hands clasped at his front.
"What?" Gordon demanded, as Arthur stumbled to a halt.
"You've forgotten your gin." Arthur told him, his eyes widening hopefully as he addressed his father; Deborah glanced across at Martin as she kept a hold on Arthur's sleeve with the tip of her fingers, but he could only offer a helpless shake of his head.
"I don't drink cheap gin." Gordon growled, throwing his hand carelessly through the air, "You keep that."
With that Gordon stormed from the room, letting the door slam behind him. Nobody spoke for a moment, and Arthur seemed to retract into himself, treading back to lean against the desk beside Martin, allowing Deborah to pull him back into the half-embrace of before while Carolyn watched the recently vacated space.
"And yet you say the marriage wasn't a success?" Deborah remarked wryly; Carolyn needed something to spur her back into action.
It worked, as a moment later, Carolyn was bustling around the office while Martin murmured something comforting to Arthur, patting him on the back as Arthur nodded and smiled strained smiles.
It wasn't enough that Gordon was trying to tear apart the company; now he had gone too far, and Deborah didn't know how she was going to do it yet, but she was going to make him suffer. She just needed time to think.
oOoOoOo
It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed back in Fitton, exhausted but triumphant in the knowledge that MJN would live to fly another day; Deborah had beamed most of the way home, pleased with her own genius, and insurmountably proud of Martin's word game efforts, whilst relishing the fact that they were all staying together thanks to Gordon's badly executed scheme.
Carolyn and Arthur disappeared soon after the post-landing checks were completed, and neither she nor Martin could blame them after the day that they had had. In light of that, Deborah had remained behind while Martin filled out the paperwork.
As they slipped on their coats and hoisted their flight bags over their shoulders, Martin and Deborah strolled to their vehicles, which were parked side by side.
"I don't know about you, but I'm glad that's all over." Martin sighed, leaning back against the side of his van and pushing a hand through his hair, a morose smile curling the corner of his lips.
Deborah smirked, but paused where she had her hand on the lock of her car, and turned to rest against the bonnet, slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat.
"Hmmm, that was enough excitement to last me a week." Deborah remarked, meeting Martin's gaze; after the day that they had had, she had thought that looking into his blue eyes might have been more difficult, but somehow, knowing now how she felt about him, how much she felt about him, it only made it easier; the only problem was that she didn't want to let him go yet, "It's still early…do you want to pop round mine, see what's in the fridge?"
Martin's smile settled more comfortably on his lips, and he let his eyes drop to his feet before he pushed away from the van.
"Hmmm, sounds good." He replied, trailing off with a little hum as he wandered to her side; then he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders just a fraction, "I mean, if you're sure."
"Of course I'm sure." Deborah sighed, rolling her eyes and lifting her hand to nudge gently at his chest, chuckling under her breath; she nodded towards the car, and watched as Martin took the suggestion and strode around to the passenger side; before he could open the door, Deborah rested her arm over the top of the car, and leaned in, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he paused and waited attentively, "You know Martin, you're round mine often enough…I should really just give you a key."
And that's series 3 done - I cannot tell you how relieved I am. I hope that lived up to everyone's expectations
In other news, I've finished writing my novel, so all I need to do is proof-read and find someone to give it a test run before I start sending it off to agents (fingers crossed)