Hello hello, and thank you for reading. Here's a nice little interlude to make up for the angst

Interlude 17

"But Deborah, you don't understand, what if something goes wrong?" Martin exclaimed shrilly, his fingers gripping the sides of the flight manual as if it held the secrets of the universe, wide eyed, gnawing on his bottom lip, attempting to extend his arms and thrust the book into Deborah's hands.

Deborah rolled her eyes and exhaled slowly, but kept her palms pressed flatly against the outer side of the manual, holding it in place between them; the two of them were sitting cross legged on the porta-cabin's sofa, facing each other on either end. Swiss Air demanded that before interviews were offered, potential employees needed to hand in first a CV, then go to London and sit a theoretical and practical examination.

Helping Martin prepare for said examination was proving more difficult than Deborah had planned, but she was determined to help him in any way she could; the fact that it meant she was able to spend more time than she had in ages in Martin's neurotic company was simply a side effect, Deborah was only trying to ensure that he had the best rest of his life as was possible.

"Martin, what could possibly go wrong?" Deborah retorted wryly, making sure to hold his gaze so that she could transmit as many positive, and instructive thoughts as she could; nothing that might make his nerves crumble again, not after the last bout of pacing that had taken two coffees to put an end to, "You know the manuals cover to cover."

"B-but what if my mind goes blank, o-or I forget everything I've ever learnt?" Martin fretted, still trying to push the manual into Deborah's hands; sighing in resignation, she accepted his offering, and let the book fall into her lap as Martin continued, "They might have been fooled by the clever things you did to my CV, but they'll never even look at me if I fail the entrance exam."

"I promise, hand on my heart, that you will not fail the written half of this test, Martin." Deborah assured him, resisting the urge to take his hands in hers and squeeze tightly, more as a disciplinary measure than an affectionate one, "Remember all those tries you had to take to get your license in the first place? It was the practical part that you messed up."

"Yes, but-" Martin began to argue, as stubborn as ever, but Deborah raised a hand, and he clamped his mouth shut; she took a moment to smiled appreciatively, pleased that in the last few weeks, Martin had been going out of his way not to simply barrel over her. She took a moment to run her eyes over his face, pretending to make sure that he was listening, but really just admiring the nice line of his cheeks, the freckles, the charming flush, as much as she could before eventually, she would have to accept that they were gone.

That was allowed; Deborah was helping him get his dream job after all.

"I know that, but what if this time it's the exam paper that lets me down?" Martin groaned weakly, running his hand over the back of his neck, agitatedly reaching out to take back the manual, but giving up when Deborah immediately batted his hands away; it was so bloody typical of him to be having doubts now, when he had booked his exam for four days from now.

"It won't let you down Martin. I know you; you're worried now, but when you get there, you'll breeze through the paper, because you honestly believe that you're the ultimate authority on aeroplane procedure." Deborah drawled, taking a certain degree of pleasure from the way that Martin rolled his eyes and nodded bashfully, the corners of his lips curling into a smile as he blushed; that was all he needed, a little confidence boost that she could never have given him if she hadn't been practicing being more honest, "Here, try this: what does it say on page two hundred and twelve of the manual?"

Martin needed no more prompting before he dove into a long winded and embellished explanation of everything that Deborah was sure was on the page that she had asked for, but wasn't willing to check; instead, she watched him puff out his chest a little as he spoke with wide and arcing hand movements, running through detail after detail. He would fine, she was sure.

"See, there's nothing wrong with your memory." Deborah remarked when Martin finally ran out of breath, earning herself a brief nudge, but an otherwise pleasantly accepting grimace, "A far better use of our time would be to go up to the flight-deck, and for me to throw commands at you so that we can see how you would react in the test conditions."

"Badly, that's how I'm going to react." Martin muttered, shaking his head and inhaling a shuddering breath; it really was ridiculous considering how ready he always was to take control whether his performance that day had been good or bad.

"No, Martin, not badly, because you are perfectly competent in the flight-deck. Not perfect, but good enough that I trust you not to kill us." Deborah explained in slow, elongated syllables; she ignored the stunned joy that sprang onto his face, and leaned forwards slightly to impress upon him her point, "What we need to knock out of you are the little habits that are fine when actually flying, but will do you no favours in an exam."

"What habits?" Martin demanded warily, the bridge of his nose crinkling as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, "What have you been letting me do wrong all these years?"

"Nothing wrong." Deborah retorted, raising her hands in surrender; Martin was definitely on a fine trigger at the moment, and would be until he stepped out of the exam room, "Just things like…the way that you alter our speed - Don't interrupt!" Martin pursed his lips and grimaced as Deborah glared at him, "It's not wrong, and it gets the job done, but there are perhaps more efficient, and regimented ways of doing it. You know, things that tick all of the CAA's boxes."

"But I was ticking all the regimented boxes when I got to MJN." Martin insisted, sounding bewildered by the idea that he wasn't behaving according to the strict guidelines set by the powers that be.

"Yes, but as you've improved as a pilot, you've let go of some of the stiff actions that were holding you back." Deborah agreed, nodding and pushing the manual from her lap and onto the sofa between them, "We just need to make sure that you pick them up in time for your test this weekend."

"Right, right, I can do that," Martin spoke almost to himself, eyes focused on something that couldn't be seen as he pushed himself to his feet, and began to pace, before stopping himself, and turning back to Deborah, "Right –well, come on, I thought we were going to the flight-deck."

oOoOoOo

Unsurprisingly, once Martin was in London with Deborah and Arthur there to see him into the exam room, he was brimming with a jittery balance of confidence and anxiety, bright eyed and grinning like a man possessed, jabbering on and on about how he was absolutely fine, but he was going to mess it up again, but he was completely and utterly prepared.

Deborah decided after the fourth time to accept his first answer, and assume that he was going to be perfectly fine when he was sat down; the magnitude of that realisation had struck like a glittering fist to the gut, as it occurred to her just how far they had come in five years together.

Five whole years, and the prissy, petulant reed of a man that she could barely look at for fear of being repulsed by his sneering and fussing, who snapped at her every move and avoided her kind words like an offering of the plague, was now standing before her, a solid figure, bold and blushing enough that she could barely take her eyes off him for fear of missing that warm fondness that the sight of him sent fluttering through her chest, and was gazing down at her with a trusting smile and indulgent eyes filled with gratitude for her support.

And Deborah had absolute faith in him; Martin was still likely to embarrass himself before he had even made it through the front door, but in the exam, the only thing that really mattered, he was going to succeed and grasp his future by the horns.

So long as he didn't get too smug and start arguing with the invigilator; that was still a possibility.

"I'm going to be fine." Martin said for the umpteenth time, once again adjusting the front of his jacket to the point that he might as well have just pulled it from his laundry basket; he looked between Deborah and Arthur, "Am I going to be fine?"

"Of course you are Skip." Arthur chimed helpfully; he was standing off to the side, apparently feeling that while Deborah was barely a foot away from Martin, there was no need for him to encroach upon their space, so instead stood swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets, "You're one of the best pilots I know."

"That's not as comforting as you might think." Martin replied under his breath, then a little louder, forcing a smile as he looked directly at Arthur, "Thank you…oh god, what if the lifts on the way up make me dizzy and I black out."

"Martin, if blacking out in lifts were something that actually happened to you, I would make a point of booking rooms right at the top of hotels." Deborah remarked wryly, waiting for him to nod and roll his eyes, playing along, before she continued; to resist the temptation to touch him, she wrapped her arms surreptitiously around her chest, "You'll be alright, I promise."

"Okay…" Martin finally, finally seemed to calm, and the jitters faded slowly from the set of his shoulders; he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, and lifted both of his arms just a fraction, asking sheepishly, "Hug?"

"Only because you asked so nicely." Deborah replied warmly, and she opened her arms to accept him; there was nothing to feel guilty about, Martin just needed to support, that was all, or at least that was what she told herself.

It wasn't even one of those intimate hugs, where they wrapped themselves around each other and held on for dear life, though it was just as nice after such a long time physically apart from each other; Deborah's arms rested around Martin's shoulders, hands curled closed as they bumped together, and Martin's arms curled around her waist, bringing them together, but not stroking or fondling in any way, his hands small fists that came together around her back.

A chaste hug then, where they could rest their heads on each other's shoulders and take whatever small comfort that they needed from their friend; if it lasted a few minutes longer than was polite, then Arthur said nothing, and if Deborah closed her eyes and pressed her cheeks against Martin's, feeling him sigh and do the same, then that was just the excess of emotions needing an outlet. Martin was, of course, about to potentially take the first step to a life far away…a little indulgence couldn't hurt.

Except it did, and Deborah simply had to smile through the pang in her chest as Martin hurried into the test centre, waving dejectedly until Arthur remarked that maybe they should go and get coffee while they waited for Martin to come out.

Deborah allowed Arthur to decide which coffee shop they were going to enter, regretting her preoccupation with the gnawing trepidation that thinking of Martin incited in her throat when the steward led her, predictably, into the strangest café she had ever seen; it was like the owners had plucked it from an old sitcom, and dropped it in a fairy story.

oOoOoOo

After about an hour in the coffee shop, and an hour of listening to Arthur talk about whatever it was that had drifted through his mind at any given moment, Deborah was almost relieved when the conversation ground to a halt, and she was able to sit back in her chair opposite his, and watch the dregs of her drink swirl around the bottom of her cup.

Almost relieved; the patchy quiet allowed for a trickle of something to worry her chest and make her stomach turn, as Deborah was able to think about what would happen if Martin actually did do well today. Even though she supported his every step, a small, rather prominent part of her hoped that he would fail.

"Are you really going to let Skip leave?" Arthur asked abruptly; Deborah looked up slowly from her cup, while he carried on, his arms resting on the table as he tentatively met her eyes, "I mean, I know you've been helping him get ready, which is really nice, but…you also look a bit teary, a lot of the time."

"I'm not…" Deborah was about to insist that she was in no way teary, her back stiffening defensively; but then she realised the pointlessness of trying to lie to Arthur of all people, and sighed, slumping once again, "Of course I'm going to let him leave; in fact, I'm actively encouraging it."

"I thought you loved him though." Arthur remarked, his eyebrows furrowing in muted confusion; he had a strange way of being able to hold someone's attention without feeling the need to look away or be even slightly affected by the discomfort of his conversational partner.

"I do, and that's why I'm going to ensure he ganders on to greener pastures." Deborah explained drearily, attempting to add a little bounce to her tone, but failing miserably; she shrugged flippantly as she explained, gripping her cup in her palms, "Martin's always wanted to be a paid and respected pilot, flying big planes for a professional company; I'm not going to hold him back now that he has the chance."

"I suppose…" Arthur replied, the corner of his lips twisting as if in thought; knowing that this was probably the start of a long and uncomfortable conversation that she didn't have the energy to extract herself from, Deborah tried to settle more comfortably in her chair, and blinked patiently at the man from across the table, "I guess I just never imagined you two being apart."

"We were apart for a very long time before we were ever together Arthur." Deborah remarked dryly, decisively placing her cup down on the table between them and leaning back enough that she could wrap her arms around her chest; it didn't feel like what she was saying was true, but she didn't want to discuss this with anyone.

"Well, yeah, but not really; you were always the best of friends, even when you were arguing a lot and Mum threatened to lock you in the flight-deck." Arthur protested brightly, along with all of his usual bobbing motions and whirling hands; it wasn't clear whether this was comforting or not, "It's weird to think that you and Skip'll be on other sides of Europe."

"Believe me Arthur, the thought had occurred." Deborah muttered, pointedly glaring at the table top; not that that stopped him in any way. No, Arthur was like a train when he got started; damn near impossible to stop from the outside.

"Not in a bad way, I just mean that most people don't even call you Martin and Deborah any more, it's just 'those two' – like Mum and Herc and all the grounds people always ask me about 'those two', or 'what are those two up to'." Arthur explained, oblivious to Deborah's quirked eyebrows and helpless expression as he bowled ahead, "If Martin's in Switzerland, then they won't be able to do that anymore."

It had already taken a lot of thinking and steeling herself for Deborah to be able to accept that she no longer had any claim to Martin, and that she had to accept that he might soon be an absence rather than a presence (and to quash the flickers of hope that noted that Martin might fail and stay with her forever); the last thing that she needed was for Arthur to kind heartedly plant any more seeds of doubt in her mind.

"Yes, well, Arthur, a wise man once told me in not so many words that if you love someone, you should put their happiness first and let them go." Deborah remarked wanly, offering him a fleeting facsimile of a smirk that faded before it had even fully formed.

"Wow, that sounds like something I once said," Arthur exclaimed, his eyes going wide with pride; he rolled his shoulders back as he spoke, basking in the few moments of glory, "but with posher wording."

"Funnily enough." Deborah retorted, sighing through her nose; perhaps it would have been more sensible to let Arthur go his own way and then meet him outside of the test centre, then at least she could have window shopped through her misery instead of enduring this.

"It's just that you're really good together, like, Martin's calmer when he's around you, and you, you're more…relaxed, and not as snippy." Arthur informed her pleasantly, taking a sip from his hot chocolate, and giving Deborah the opportunity she needed to cut him off and put an end to it. Much longer and her patience would have snapped regardless.

"That's enough Arthur." Deborah instructed softly, gritting her teeth as she tried not to scowl at the other customers as they walked back and forth past their table; the image of storm clouds emerging over someone's head had never felt like such a realistic happening.

"Oh, sorry." Arthur must have caught on, or else Deborah's mood really was contagious, as he leaned in slightly, blinking apologetically at her, as if finally he was beginning to understand that his musings weren't welcome; not that that had ever prevented his helpfulness before, "You know, if you are upset, I'm always here…"

"Thank you Arthur." Deborah replied stiltedly; that seemed to be enough for him, as he nodded and focused his attention back on his drink, which he had managed to make last throughout their entire stay.

Immediately Deborah found herself regretting being so short with him; it had been a while since she had had a decent conversation with Arthur, so wrapped up as she had been in her own problems, and in moping over Martin. She had almost forgotten that there were other people in her life; or that they might have lives of their own that didn't revolve around her.

"So, have you thought about what you'd like to do if MJN ends?" Deborah inquired, adopting a jaunty tone and leaning forwards, propping her elbows on the table, her chin on her hands; not a subject that she wanted to explore, but one that couldn't be ignored.

"Well, a bit." Arthur shrugged thoughtfully, and pursed his lips as his eyes wandered upwards; Deborah's eyebrows rose in surprise, not expecting a positive response, "But Mum says that even if Skip goes, we'll be able to keep GERTI running for a few months at least."

Small mercies only went so far, Deborah mused dejectedly; if Martin left, MN would become a sinking ship, with each of them stagnating until it was completely submerged.

"And after that?" Deborah pushed, genuinely curious to know; she had never even tried to imagine Arthur in a life that didn't involve GERTI, but now that she did, it was apparent that she had been appallingly blind, "You must have some idea; I mean, you didn't grow up wanting to spend the rest of your life working on your mother's plane."

"No, because it wasn't Mum's plane until about fifteen years ago." Arthur replied matter-of-factly; he shrugged and stretched his arms out, laying his wrists over the table, letting them click as he turned them, "I guess I never really thought about it much; though, I'd quite like to be one of those guys in hotels that push the luggage cages."

"You don't sound too sure about that." Deborah remarked, smirking at the sudden shift in Arthur's expression, as if he were afraid that he had slipped up and ruined his otherwise optimistic demeanour; she could just about picture him rolling about on the ground floor of a hotel somewhere, though where he would find one near Fitton was beyond her.

"No, no, it sounds fun." Arthur insisted seriously, nodding vehemently as if the motion might add to his point; he still didn't sound too sure though, "I'd rather be at MJN, but I wouldn't mind working in a hotel."

"You didn't honestly think it was going to last forever?" Deborah asked wryly, watching carefully for his reaction; this wasn't so bad actually. If Arthur was allowed to interrogate her over Martin, she was allowed to press him over the potential disastrous end of the company; a little heart to heart.

"Didn't you?" Arthur retorted, bewildered; he always had lived in his own little world, one that Deborah never attempted to venture into, save for in small, almost non-existent doses, "Because, you've worked with us for years, nearly from the beginning, and I've never heard of you trying to get out – not like Martin used to anyway."

"Hmmm." Deborah hummed in acknowledgement, and let her shoulders sag as she pulled away and brought her arms back over her chest; what a wonderful little reminder, she thought, disdaining the prickle in her chest at the mention.

"It'll be alright though," Arthur assured her, batting a hand through the air to punctuate his words; there would be no convincing him that perhaps things would not work themselves out, "because even if it does end, you, me, and Mum will still all have each other, and Martin won't stop calling us or coming to visit."

"You and Carolyn will be fine, of course." Deborah interjected before he could carry on with any more spiel; realising that she may have been a little too honest, but not quite willing to stop, Deborah glanced down at her sleeve, and began to pick at a loose thread, slouching a fraction more in a show of forced nonchalance, "I'm not sure about what will happen to me."

"Why would anything happen?" Arthur asked innocently; Deborah had to swallow back a wash of despair when she glanced up only to find him watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer that she didn't really want to give. Then again, it was nice to be able to shovel her worries onto someone that wasn't likely to carry them around with him for weeks after the event.

"Because we'd all be splitting up and I've become rather used to having you all around." Deborah admitted reluctantly; the only saving grace against the petulant lump in her throat was the fact that Arthur wasn't the sort of person to tease her for such a sentimental remark.

"Well, yeah, so why should anything happen?" Arthur replied plainly, in a way that only he could; Deborah could only grit her teeth and purse her lips, too emotionally exhausted to bother fighting with him, "Mum and I aren't going anywhere."

"That's because you're a family that lives together." Deborah reminded him stiffly; at the odd scrunch of Arthur's face, she tore her eyes away to watch the young woman who was manning the till waft her towel around, brushing crumbs from the counter, "I don't have that luxury; I'm going to have to start looking for other jobs-"

"But if you're counting Mum and I as one group, then you and Martin are included in that group as well-" Arthur insisted, leaning to the side to try and catch Deborah's eyes; damn, he was like a dog with a bone, unable to tell that Deborah didn't want to discuss it, leaving the ball in his court.

"As employees and friends, perhaps-" Deborah sighed, fluttering her hand through her hair and taking the opportunity to close her eyes in despair; how she had expected Arthur to understand was beyond her.

"No, as family." Arthur interrupted her, speaking brightly, absolutely certain that he was correct as Deborah let her eyes wander back across to meet his, ignoring the gnawing in her guts, "We've had employees, like all those Captains at the start, and they never lasted long, and we barely knew them. But you've been a part of MJN from the start, and you hang around with me in and out of work, and we've been to each other's houses, and we know each other's proper families a bit."

"It's not the same." Deborah muttered, biting her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else; anything else could have been everything from a sarcastic retort to a soppy exclamation rooting in the horrible buzzing in her chest at Arthur's ridiculous ideas. It was silly, but on top of the niggling sparked each time she checked her watch, it was a struggle not to let her lips tremble slightly.

"Yes it is." Arthur insisted, finally placing his drink down so that he could engage her more sincerely; god dammit that was the last thing she needed, "Because even though I can sort of imagine MJN ending, I can't imagine not having you around because you're a huge part of my life now."

"Okay…" Deborah sighed, placing her palm over her eyes as she nodded hastily, urging Arthur to stop talking before her already precarious balance was thrown and she plunged into a well of misery; as always, his attempts at cheering her up, although sincere and rather lovely, just made her want to crawl back inside her own chest, it was either awful, or too good to be true.

There was a moment of silence, in which Deborah inhaled deeply, calming herself; then Arthur's eyes blew wide, and his smile fell, and he almost tipped forwards with the extent of his hurried speech, as he scanned her posture.

"Oh no, I've made you all teary again." Arthur exclaimed, sounding heartbroken, even as Deborah let out a choked laugh and dropped her hand, shaking her head; well, she might as well get it all out now before Martin came out of his exam and found them, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry, I'm fine." Deborah instructed, clearing her throat and shifting so that she was no longer slumped, regaining some sense of propriety; she could almost see the staff watching her from the corners of their eyes, worried perhaps that there might be some sort of scene between the two of them, "It's just been a very emotional, highly stressful couple of weeks."

"Oh, it'll get better." Arthur informed her, his worry dropping away like borrowed robes; Deborah quirked an eyebrow at him, bemused by the ease with which he was reassured. Then the hard edge in her throat softened, and his bumbling easiness lured her inevitably into his clutches.

"And if it doesn't and I end up jobless, loveless, and unable to pay my rent?" she inquired cautiously, making sure to sit up straight and peer at the edge of the table, avoiding the temptation to sag and appear emotional or afraid; if Arthur thought that she was really afraid, then he would tell Carolyn, and she would never live it down.

"We've got loads of spare rooms you could have." Arthur answered, successfully convinced that if worst came to worst, then the problem could be easily solved; Deborah didn't quite like his suggestion, but she supposed that it was a touching thought, "Mum might put up a fight, but that's only so that you don't think she likes you as much as she does. She does really like you, or she wouldn't have kept you."

"That's…" Deborah grasped at words for a moment, taking Arthur's judgement with a pinch of salt; she and Carolyn had an understanding, but he would always find light in the darkest of places, "comforting I suppose."

When Arthur only nodded knowledgably, Deborah sighed again, and looked away from him, watching the people pass by the window; not long now, and they'd have to join the masses and meet Martin, who right in that moment might have been sealing his future away from them. No amount of comfort could quell the prickling mess that that made of her emotional psyche, nor calm the itching beneath her skin.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping down into a concerned tenor; Deborah's head snapped back up, and this was apparently encouragement enough, "Because, sometimes it helps if the things in your head get to come out for a bit."

"I…of course I'm not alright." Deborah tried to excuse herself for only a second before her resolve broke, and the words rushed from her mouth without her permission; it was all she could do not to let herself choke on them, "Martin's going to go far away and I've pushed him into the arms of another nicer, better woman who he's going to fall in love with when he's supposed to be here with me."

"I'm sure if you asked him-" Arthur started, but Deborah cut him off with a briefly raised hand and a shake of her head.

"No." she ordered snippily, pursing her lips; the last thing that she wanted was false comfort, and nothing would make it better. All she needed was to learn to cope with her understanding of how life was going to be from now on.

"Oh, alright." Arthur replied, ducking his head to inspect his fingers; at the dejection in his voice, Deborah was struck by a pang of guilt, and quickly changed the subject. He did so love to talk about himself.

"Have you heard anything back from Lily recently?" Deborah inquired pleasantly, slapping on a tense smile and unwinding her arms from her chest, leaning forwards to rest her arms on the table and play at being companionable despite her mood.

Arthur's face lit up, and all was apparently forgiven; that, at least, would never change.

"Oh, yeah, she's having tons of fun, and she's thinking of staying in Italy for good." Arthur explained cheerfully; when he saw the sympathetic frown that crept on Deborah's lips, he shook his head and waved his hand carelessly through the air, "No, that's not a bad thing; she's having a nice time, and anyway, I met this nice girl in the chip shop in Fitton who's really pretty and likes to make art out of her hair colour and tattoos."

"Wow…" Deborah let out a hearty exhale, and sat back in her seat; at least somebody was living a life free of angst, "Let nobody say that you don't have a thrilling love life."

oOoOoOo

When Martin appeared from inside the test centre, his cheeks were red and he was gnawing on his bottom lip to the point that Deborah imagined it ached, clenching his hands together, but he didn't seem to be panicking anymore; she had known that he would be fine when he got down to it. Or, at least, she had been mostly certain.

"How'd it go Skip?" Arthur hurried to ask him the moment that they were within three feet of each other, grinning as if Martin had already passed with flying colours; Martin spluttered a bit, and blushed even further, so Deborah took pity on his post-test daze and stepped between them.

"You did well I presume?" Deborah inquired quietly, reaching out to brush the back of his hand with hers before taking her hands away and wrapping her arms around her chest; Martin met her soft smile with a wavering one of his own, awkwardly putting an arm out to guide the two of them out of the path of the people of London, "You didn't upset the invigilators?"

"N-no, I don't think so, I think I did alright actually – yes, I-I was fine." Martin replied, seeming to have trouble forming coherent sentences; he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then through his hair, and carried on a little sheepishly, "I may have, um, accidently insulted them a bit at the beginning, but when the test started I did exactly what you told me to, and only spoke when spoken to."

"Brilliant Skip." Arthur congratulated him, moving through the pedestrians to clap Martin on the back, making him stumble a little closer to Deborah, who caught him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, so long as you did well in the tests, then there's nothing they can do." Deborah reassured him, giving his upper arm a little squeeze that seemed to calm him just a fraction, "I'm sure that you've done perfectly Captain."

"Yes, yes – I'm sure." Martin agreed, swallowing hard as he nodded; he didn't look convince, but his jaw set nonetheless as he looked between the two of them, "Home?"

Deborah rolled her eyes, and gave him one last pat before shifting to his side, and hooking an arm through his, starting their slow and intermittent pace away from the test centre; she was caught between being happy for him, and choking the trembling in her stomach.

"Yes Martin, home." She promised, glancing around him to meet Arthur's gaze, "A bite to eat, our treat, and then home, where you will proceed to sleep for the rest of the day, and night, and come back to work with hands steady enough to fly a real plane."

I hope that that was pleasant, and that you're all thoroughly prepared for the trip to Yverdon les Bains