Hello, and thank you for reading. Here it is, the chapter I'm sure you've been dreading. I honestly didn't realise how much I had written until 4,000 became 10,000, so there's a whole trove of things for you to enjoy here
Yverdon-les-bains
Swiss Air had invited Martin in for an interview; supposing that he didn't mess it up (which in fairness, was a possibility), Deborah knew that all of her efforts to prepare him for the event were tantamount to giving him a life jacket and choosing to drown herself; but she was pleased for him, her smiles and congratulations when he had received the letter in the porta-cabin had been genuine. Despite everything, she really did want Martin to do well; it would have been wrong to hold him back.
Besides, it was only a fifty-fifty chance now, and Deborah was ready and willing to either console Martin's failure and carry on their lives as they were before their relationship had ever taken place, or to bid him farewell, safe in the knowledge that he was happy, and that while he was flourishing, there would always be a quick and easy way to keep in touch via the internet.
Today Martin was flying out to Switzerland in order to take the interview; the physical separation, and the act of seeing him off as he boarded a plane to the country that might steal him from them seemed almost symbolic, and Deborah imagined that when the time came, she could draw upon this to keep her steady.
There was really no need for the entire crew of MJN to have accompanied Martin to the airport, but Carolyn and Arthur seemed to understand that monumental gravitas of the moment as much as she did; the only difference was how eager they were to get him out of the door. Carolyn, though she would deny it, was mothering him like mad, wafting him into the arms of a better deal and alleviating her guilt by accepting graciously the inevitable fall of her accursed company, and Arthur was simply as cheerful as ever.
It was all far too normal for Deborah to be anything other than pleasantly supportive, even if the airport did see, a little chillier than the dress of the other customers suggested. The four of them sat in a small collective on one of the standard metal benches that airports such as this provided, Martin seated in the middle, breathing deeply, with Deborah at his side.
"Alright?" Deborah inquired brightly, smiling encouragingly as she made sure to keep her hands curled soothingly around Martin's arm, sitting turned towards him closely enough that the back of his shoulder almost pressed against her own arm, rubbing small circles with her thumbs and demonstrating the correct pace for the heaving in his chest to follow, "We're breathing nice and evenly now?"
"Yeah, yes." Martin nodded, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth as he inhaled and exhaled calmly; he was subtly leaning into Deborah's side, but she didn't have the heart to deny him such a luxury, "Nice and steady, in and out." Then Martin's eyes blew wide, and flickered hastily between Deborah and Carolyn, "Oh god, what if I hyperventilate, or-or my brain runs off with itself?"
"Martin, you're terrible, but you're not that terrible." Deborah reassured him drolly, quirking an eyebrow at him in the hopes that he would fall into his usual patterns of superiority and pomposity in response; she gave his arm another squeeze, "Remember how confident you were two minutes ago?"
Martin had been ridiculously confident, and then not, and then confident again, throughout the entire drive to the airport, puffing out his chest and flushing and running his hands through his now ruffled beyond belief ginger hair; Deborah was well aware that under pressure, he could thrive, but such a thing existed as the wrong kind of pressure. The sort that Martin believed he could deal with tended to be the sort that caught him out.
"Yes, yes I do. I've done interviews before…" Martin replied, his voice shifting into a more certain scratchy tenor as he nodded decidedly and squared his shoulders, stretching the fingers on both hands over his knees in a show of confidence, "I'll just be even better than I was then. Just as if I were talking to one of you lot."
"Exactly." Deborah agreed dutifully; all that was needed now was a little pandering to his ego, and a wee dram of teasing to make him feel more at home, then Martin would be ready to tackle anything that was thrown at him, "They're just people, and you're a Captain."
"Yes I am." Martin spoke almost to himself, his jaw setting as his cheeks flushed red enough to hide the freckles that spackles his face; it was wonderful to see him so proud and ready for action, which only served to make a slither of guilt trickle into Deborah's guts as she fleetingly prayed that he would mess up, and badly, so that he could come home and she could comfort him. It would be wrong of her to think such things, she mused, and she fixed her smile.
"Passengers for Flight SA23 to Yverdon, we should be ready to board you within ten minutes." A female voice rang out over the tannoy, and each member of MJN looked up towards the ceiling, allowing an odd quiet to fall over them.
"Right, right, right-right-right-right-right." Martin spluttered, inhaling sharply and dragging in a nervous breath; Deborah leant into his warmth as a sign of support, and he responded likewise, not even acknowledging the shift, as he looked between Carolyn and Arthur, "Anyone got any more practice questions?"
"What's been your best crash?" Arthur chimed in brightly; he leaned where he was perched on the back of the opposite seat, his feet on the base, so that he could clasp his hands together and rest his arms on his knees while he narrowed his eyes expectantly at Martin.
"Anyone apart from Arthur." Martin amended, rolling his eyes; for a moment the exhaustion of a night spend tossing and turning fell like a shadow behind his expression, but it was gone the moment that it appeared.
"Oh, here's an old one," Deborah remarked, patting Martin's arm one last time before slipping her hands away, and pulling her arms over her chest; he was fine now, her job was done, and now it was time to prod him a little, get him properly relaxed, "you're on a stopover in Bangkok, and your captain meets you in the hotel bar wearing a red cocktail dress. What do you say?"
"Oh, right." Martin replied, the picture of thoughtful stoicism; Deborah let a smirk crawl onto her lips, and waited for his inevitable stumble, best to get it all out now, "Er, well, um … it's not on company time or property … um, so in the spirit of respecting his life choices, I'd …"
"No, no." Deborah interrupted wryly, raising a hand into the air and relishing the rapt attention that Martin gave her before his eyebrows dropped in fond resignation, "You tell her how well it goes with her earrings."
"Oh, but that's not fair!" Martin insisted, sighing and slumping imperceptibly as he scrunched his face up; a fighty Martin was a fine Martin, so there was nothing to worry about, "The question pre-supposes the …"
"Don't scare the boy, Deborah." Carolyn scolded her lightly; Deborah bit back a scoff, and raised her eyebrows pointedly at her; honestly, to think that Carolyn of all people was lecturing her on treating Martin right, "They don't really go in for trick ones these days, Martin. It'll just be things like: what would you say is your worst quality?"
"Oh-oh-oh-oh, yes; I've got a great one for this." Martin chirped, regaining some of his jauntier excitement; Deborah recognised that tone of voice, and the small mercy was that it was this kind of attitude might lead Martin to a nice long stay with MJN, "I saw it on a website. My worst quality, I'm afraid, is that I am sometimes a bit too much of a perfectionist."
Deborah groaned dramatically just as Carolyn let out a similar, more genuinely despairing sound, placing her hand over her eyes as if to fleetingly protect herself from the dreary mess of the world.
"Whatever you do, don't say that." Carolyn instructed him sternly, holding Martin's gaze even as he shook his head, and blinked imploringly back at her.
"W-w-why not?" Martin asked, pouting as if his sensibilities had been wounded; he turned between Carolyn and Deborah, aiming his proposition like the schemer that he occasionally tried to be, "Don't you see? It's really clever because it sounds like I'm criticising myself, but-but actually, being a perfectionist is a good thing for a pilot to be, so …"
"Yes, I understand the fiendish cunning of it, Martin. I just fear it may have lost the first fine flush of youth." Carolyn argued wryly, ignoring Martin as he sighed in exasperation; Deborah gave him a little nudge as he slouched into her, keeping the smirk on her face, finding that it wasn't as hard as it felt when he was floundering as such, "You should say something that shows you're genuinely aware of your weak points as a pilot."
"Oooh!" Deborah drawled salaciously into Martin's ear, grinning as she pretended to lift her eyes upwards in deep thought, and prodded his ankle with the tip of her toes; she was sure that he knew she was joking, so his confidence couldn't be knocked too far, "I'm sure I've got a few."
"Yes, thank you, Deborah." Carolyn raised her voice above the rabble, glaring pointedly at her with a degree of malice that promised much suffering if she knocked Martin from his game; it was as if she wanted him to leave, "I am not looking for contributions from the floor."
"Ooh-ooh, I know." Arthur interjected eagerly, not waiting for Martin's attention before he continued, "Make it something, um, you can't help but will make them feel sorry for you. Like, um, your worst quality is, er, you're blind."
Before any of them could come back with anything remotely witty, the tannoy rang our once again, signalling the beginning of the end; Deborah tried to not grimace that the disembodied voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Flight SA23 is now ready for boarding."
"Ooh. Okay!" Martin gasped, his voice anxious and high pitched as he stumbled to his feet, and ran his hands over his uniform; Deborah followed the over, as did Carolyn and Arthur in the next second, and stood at his elbow while he dragged in a breath and hoisted his small carry-on bag over his elbow, "Okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay."
"Good luck, Martin, and remember: be calm …" Carolyn ran over the same thing that she had run over at least four times before, hands extended as if to embrace the air that surrounded him, but not him, as Martin hummed in acknowledgement, biting his lip anxiously, "… take your time …"
"Yes." Martin replied, his nodding beginning to resemble that of a small artificial dog.
"Be assertive …" Deborah added, stepping away from Martin's side so that she could occupy his attention, now standing partially before him, her hand moving of its own accord to rest on his free elbow; if nothing else, she supposed, it seemed to help with the jittering, her eyes giving him something to focus his own on.
"… but relaxed …" Carolyn concluded, coming to stand on his other side, although, perhaps not as near; Deborah caught her eye in the split second that she tore her eyes from Martin's, and was disheartened to find that even though their goal was the same, there was a grave juxtaposition between what Deborah was feeling in her gut, and whatever it was that motivated the older woman.
"Yes, yes!" Martin exclaimed, raising his hands into the air as if to shield himself; Deborah stepped back sheepishly, only an inch, realising that perhaps they had been crowding him somewhat like children did to fluffy creatures brought into primary schools.
"Good luck, Skip!" Arthur instructed, coming to stand between Deborah and Carolyn, unabashed and smiling as brightly as ever; at least somebody was able to see the bright side of things without being tainted by selfishness or jealousy, "Just be yourself!"
"No!" Deborah and Carolyn groaned simultaneously; Martin's face fell, but into a sort of twisted, resigned frown that was more run of the mill than upset or insulted, as one of his hands clutched at the bag over his arm.
"Don't do that!" Deborah warned seriously, albeit, pointing a playful finger at him, hoping that Martin could see that it was all just a mask for her unwavering support and faith in him; it was that, or let him see that she was sad, which wouldn't make for a pleasant interview.
"Be a version of yourself." Carolyn added helpfully, wincing as if at the very thought of Martin floundering under inspection.
"Quite a different version from usual." Deborah interjected; now that he was on his feet and ready to leave, it seemed all the more difficult to actually let him walk away, like a rope tied around her ribs forcing her to keep reassuring him for something that she wasn't entirely ready to let him tackle.
"Oh, all right." Martin grouched tetchily; that was a good sign, he was always more confident when he was annoyed, "Thank you."
After a few awkward nods, and a brief little goodbye wave, Martin began to turn, and to walk away, but Deborah stumbled after him, clearing her throat as he ground to a halt mere seconds after taking off.
"Martin, hold on." Deborah requested, letting go of her pride for a moment and openly and honestly curling a hand around his wrist; from there she reached up on her toes and brought her arms up to slip fleetingly around his shoulders, a brief, light hug, before she stood back and straightened his tie, lingering a little as she flattened his lapels, "There we go." She remarked gently, smiling up at Martin as he blinked down at her, his eyes dewy and his face soft as he turned into her embrace; she patted him lightly and instructed cheerfully, lowering her voice so that she could pretend it was just them, "Now, good luck, you'll be fine."
"Thank you." Martin replied quietly, his voice lowering to a sort of choked up grumble, "I-I-I- thank you." His throat bobbed as he leaned back, and forced his lips into a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, "I'll see you soon."
With that he pulled Deborah into another fleeting one armed hug, and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, barely a brush of his lips; then he was striding away, and Deborah was falling back into step beside Arthur, decidedly ignoring the bereft sensation in her chest.
"Good luck, Skip! I hope you get the job!" Arthur called across the airport; Martin sort of twirled in the distance, a nod to the steward before he carried on as he was, "But I also hope you stay with us! So overall, I hope, er … I don't know what I hope!"
"Tell you what, Arthur, give it another crack and try stopping after 'good luck'." Deborah remarked dryly, no longer in the mood for playing; they had a long day ahead of them, which would be made only longer by the empty space beside her own pilot's seat.
"Good luck!" Arthur corrected himself; now that Martin was only a back in the distance, he turned back to Deborah and noted that, "Oh, yeah, that is better."
oOoOoOo
If there had been one thing guaranteed to make Deborah's day a thousand times worse, it was the force presence of Herc Shipwright in Martin's seat; Herc, being all smug, and smarmy, and getting better treatment than she ever had. It was sickening, and she was angrier than she should have been, but Deborah couldn't help it.
When alone, irritation or misery were easy to handle; Deborah was well versed in swallowing her annoyance, and was a seasoned veteran of ignoring the angsting, pining ache in her chest. But when the two intersected, it felt like balancing on the thrumming string of a violin, pulled taut and ready to burst into tears or fury at any moment.
The only positive side to their flight so far was the fact that years ago, Herc had told Deborah that she would never truly fit back into the strict and structured atmosphere of the big airline; well, now Herc was reacting to the haphazard nature of MJN like a floundering fish thrown headfirst into a tiger's den.
The flight-deck door swung open with a swish, but Deborah only glanced over her shoulder, aware that there was no one qualified to silently hover as she momentarily took her hands from the controls; she just had to pay extra attention today.
"Hello, chaps." Arthur announced, his voice still muffled and podgy from his run in with the dragon fruit; he walked up behind the seats, and Deborah saw that in his hands he held two mugs of steaming hot liquid. Which was a relief; if he was going about his job then there was nothing to worry about, medically speaking.
"Hello, Arthur." Herc replied kindly, accepting his drink from Arthur giving him a visible once over, while the steward leaned around the back of Deborah's seat and placed her tea in its usual place.
"Cheas and coffees." Arthur explained as he always did, standing back and leaning on the back of Deborah's seat when he had completed his task, "Chea for you, Dephrah, an' coffee for you, Skik."
"Thank you." Herc told him gratefully, but Deborah was too busy reeling at the words that had left Arthur's mouth to pay him much attention; that wasn't correct, not at all, and it made her feel as if something cold and hard had taken root in the base of her throat.
"Wait a minute: coffee for who?" Deborah demanded, making sure to keep her hands on the controls as she turned to glare at Arthur over her shoulder; that there was a smug bastard watching her feigning passivity to her side didn't help her mood, neither did Arthur's simple, cluelessly inquisitive hum, "What did you call him?"
"Who, Skik?" Arthur asked, completely unaffected in a way that made Deborah suck in a ragged breath, and purse her lips petulantly; Martin was barely even out of the door, and they were already playing house without him, "Skip."
"He's not 'Skip'." Deborah stated sharply, setting her expression and internally warring against the ache in her chest; it only peripherally occurred to her that she was on the verge of getting worked up, but she was too busy venting to care, "Martin is Skip."
"Well, yeah, but it'sh jusht short for 'Skipper', isn't it?" Arthur asked, adding insult to injury by glancing fleetingly at Herc; that just wasn't fair, if Martin wasn't there, then it was still her flight-deck, and her that had been there from the start.
"Yes! And he's not the skipper." Deborah snapped, hearing her own voice come out perhaps a little shrilly, not that there was a chance to change that when her chest was juddering with the effort of maintaining her composure as she gestured sharply at herself, "I'm the skipper, so don't call him Skip."
"But I thought Shkipper jusht meant 'Captain'." Arthur insisted, raising his hands in surrender and stepping back a little so that he was no longer encroaching on her space.
"No. 'Skipper' means person in charge of the vessel," Deborah corrected him, her voice rising angrily into a higher pitch, as she gripped the controls in one hand and glared at him furiously over her shoulder, "and as I am the only one on board who is trained or qualified to fly her, I think you'll find that I am the supreme commander of th…"
Like being struck by lightning, Deborah trailed off, her eyes widening as she was hit by a flash from the past, the echo of years ago ringing in her ears; just like that, the sound of Martin's voice in her head drove home his absence, and as Deborah slumped back around in her seat, she had to inhale slowly to battle down the heat that was welling behind her eyes. She couldn't let Herc have that to use against her.
"Y'all right, Commander?" Herc inquired, his tone teasing and jesting; from the corner of her eyes she could see him smirking at her, like a cat that was watching the cream flounder around, with no intention of getting it, simply enjoying the show.
"What have I become?" Deborah sighed, horrified; she placed the heel of her palm over her eyes, and pressed her lips together tightly, trying desperately to push away everything that was whirring down through her head to her chest to her guts. Now was not the time, and absolutely not the place.
"Wow, you shounded jush like Martin then." Arthur remarked from somewhere over Deborah's shoulders, clearly misunderstanding the tone and declaring his joy as he was wont to do without thought.
"Yes, thank you Arthur," Deborah muttered from underneath her hand, slowly lowering it so that she could continue to fulfil her responsibility and actually fly the plane, as nobody else could; she made sure not to look either man in the eyes, "now go and look after the passengers please."
"Righhto." Arthur slurred slightly, but thankfully did as he was asked; a moment later the flight-deck door clanged shut, and Deborah was left with one less person to pointedly ignore.
Not that Herc seemed to understand that Deborah didn't want to do anything but ignore him, as she could feel his eyes on her, and the shift from humorous to slightly concerned was almost tangible in the air; that was the last thing she needed, his sympathy.
"I know that I was joking when I asked if you were alright, but I feel that it might be pertinent to note that mid-air might not be the best place to have an existential crisis." Herc remarked dryly; when Deborah glanced towards him, and saw his hand hovering between them, it took a moment for her to realise that it wasn't a gesture of kindness, but rather a precaution in case he needed to take the controls, "Would you like to talk about it?"
"Not really." Deborah replied shortly, swallowing hard to bring herself back to an approximate measure of calm; she'd done a good job of keeping herself to herself recently, and now was not the time.
"Well…you know what it's like when you spend a lot of time in close proximity to another person, especially one that you're very close to." Herc began to explain, as if he understaff what she was feeling and was honestly trying to comfort her; Deborah had enough piece of mind to appreciate the effort, but that just wasn't what was wrong, not even a little bit, though it did add to the dull throbbing in her chest, and the welling behind her eyes, "You start picking up on some of their more prominent…quirks…or speech patterns, turns of phrase, bad habits, just little character traits…"
"Is that so?" Deborah responded tautly; maybe if he kept talking he would wear himself out and let her have the rest of the flight in peace.
"Yes, I think so." Herc rattled off, nodding sagely to himself; it wasn't as easy as she had thought to ignore him as he pressed his hands together, finally leaning back as if the threat was gone, "I noticed a few months back that Martin was doing the same with you; little things, like the odd things you do with your face when you think you're being clever, or his newfound nonchalance when it comes to scheming. Oh, and his general demeanour, so it goes both ways-"
"Yes, that is lovely," Deborah remarked through gritted teeth, her voice weak and strained as she gripped one of the controls almost painfully; she couldn't ignore it, not now it felt like some sort of dam was breaking and pouring into the base of her throat, a sticky, unpleasant despair, "but it's not really shared behaviours that are worrying me."
"Oh?" Herc made an inquisitive noise, his expression softening into light confusion as he turned slightly; Deborah tried not to pay heed to the way that her lips were trembling, or her eyes were prickling, making it just a little harder to see.
"It's – it's just…something that Martin said to me…years and years ago," Deborah explained, bereft of her usual sarcasm or poise; she swallowed hard, and tried not to focus on how much the memories made her want to curl into a ball and revisit them, cling to the empty space, "hell, we can't have been working together more than nine months. But it was so him – even now, when I think of what makes Martin, Martin, I hear him whining about being Supreme Commander…"
"That's understandable." Herc said slowly, as if bridging a particularly precarious gap, "You've been together a long time; I'd be surprised if you weren't fond of habits he's retained from the past."
"Actually, back then, I sort of wanted to punch him." Deborah remarked, releasing a sort of truncated, half-hearted laugh that wrenched from her chest and broke through the dam that she had been building up; that moment of wonderful affection, recalling how good it felt to have felt that way, in retrospect, only made it harder to fight tears in the present, and she hastily rubbed her thumb over her eyes before any could fall onto her cheeks.
"Oh…" Herc replied, sounding resignedly surprised; Deborah thought that that was the end of it, until he continued, carefully, "well, if it helps, I always sort of want to punch you."
"Shockingly enough, it doesn't." Deborah retorted, but it nonetheless brought a dejected smile to her lips, and made her laugh just a little; she took her hands from the controls and rubbed them over her face, inhaling sharply in an attempt to regain her composure.
"Deborah, really though; you're holding the lives of many people in your hands, so I'm going to go out on a limb and ask again, if you're okay?" Herc asked tentatively, his arm once again extending as if he might rescue a plane that he had no idea how to fly.
"Yes, I'm fine…" Deborah assured him, nodding and taking the controls back in hand despite the fact that GERTI was perfectly capable of maintaining herself mid-air, mid-flight; now would have been a good time to stop, but…there was a part of her that just needed to get out, for her own sake, and it wasn't as if Herc was cruel, "I just…you wouldn't understand."
"Try me." Herc offered; apparently understanding the situation, he shifted so that he was facing forwards, reducing the chance that he might see something in her that she wanted to keep to herself.
"You'd mock me." Deborah remarked wryly, quirking her eyebrows sardonically as she ran her eyes over the control panels, barely taking in the readings as she eventually chose to watch the sky instead.
"I promise, I won't." Herc stated surely; Deborah didn't look at him, but she inhaled slowly. She didn't feel quite so close to tears anymore, so this couldn't be so bad; cathartic, maybe, a little emotional therapy to make life easier.
"I…back then, when Martin was…when he was like this, when he was shrill and defensive, and insisted we all called him sir…it wasn't a quirk, it…it was because he felt threatened, and nervous, and…and like if he didn't keep control, his life might be pulled out from under him." Deborah explained, squaring her jaw against the rush of dejection; oh god, she had been wrong, the tears weren't gone, the misery was creeping back to choke her, and her voice was wavering, "Which makes sense, because it was his first piece of authority, unpaid, and it very well might have been…"
"So…" Herc prompted, his hand curling through the air, encouraging her to carry on; not that there was much point, as Deborah was tumbling into a teary mess without his help.
"So, he's not like that anymore, because he's got his whole life in order." Deborah exclaimed, throwing a hand helplessly into the air and shaking her head, despairing at herself, "But I…I'm not just picking up on his quirks, i-it's happening to me…my whole world is just crumbling around me, and he's going, and MJN's ending, and -"
"And I suppose I'm sort of usurping your authority?" Herc remarked apologetically; Deborah nodded, pressing her lips together and doing her best to straighten her back, regaining what little composure she still possessed.
"Yes, yes you are." Deborah replied firmly, taking in another deep breath and rubbing the side of her hand over her eyes; nearly better, as best as she could manage now that the tense ball of nerves was floating somewhere in the air, leaving an empty space in her chest, "I just, it's my flight-deck, it has been for years, mine and Martin's, so I…I just snapped… and … it was as if I was seeing the whole world through Martin's eyes."
"That sounds unnerving." Herc said patiently; Deborah glanced sideways at him, and was grateful to find that he was picking at the loose switch that she and Martin had taped there after they had discovered it and couldn't work out where it had come from, rather than watching her.
"It was absolutely terrifying! I don't know how he does it!" Deborah stressed, rolling her eyes at herself; then another slim finger of rejection plucked at her heartstrings, "Or how he ever put up with me, let alone wanted to be with me."
"A steady hand, perhaps?" Herc suggested; Deborah merely shrugged, so he left it at that, and pushed on with other avenues of interrogation, or encouragement, whatever it was that he thought he was doing, "D'you think he'll get the job?"
"I hope so." Deborah answered honestly, albeit quietly and reluctantly; for all of her angst and misery, she cared far too much about Martin to actually consider letting him wallow in the dregs of their ramshackle company.
"You hope so?" Herc repeated, with an edge of surprise; there was that, Deborah supposed, she could still catch people off guard. Even this many years into her life, nobody seemed to realise that deep down, she really was a genuinely decent person, not quite as selfish as she might appear.
"I want him to be happy," Deborah explained plainly, sighing as she blinked at the sky and let her emotions mull over and around her head, collating in her chest like a dreary little rain pool, "and he can't have that here."
"He always seems quite happy when I see him about." Herc retorted honestly; Deborah didn't know what he was trying to achieve, especially as this was the man that had already taken a job for Swiss Air, and had made no secret of the fact that Martin would end up working below him.
"He doesn't know what he's missing elsewhere." Deborah remarked flippantly; that wasn't entirely true, but Deborah couldn't help but feel like it was, "We've brainwashed him into thinking that what we've got is fun and better…but Martin likes order, and procedure, and he needs a proper wage, because it's not fair to keep him unpaid." At the Deborah inhaled sharply and picked at the controls, curling her fingers around the yoke to try and evade the tendrils of bitterness that threatened to leak into her tone, "Besides, he's got himself a nice woman over there…that's got to be a healthier relationship than one built on snide remarks and teasing."
"I find that it works well enough, so long as you're both content; healthy is transitory." Herc debated; Deborah waited for him to smack his lips awkwardly and take the conversational wheel again, in no rush to explore the churning that his words incited in her guts, "From a professional standpoint, bereft of romance?"
"Well, I suppose I feel the way any rat on a sinking ship would feel if she saw one of the other rats leaping into a passing speed boat," Deborah replied plainly, allowing herself to be carried if only momentarily by the less than pleasant emotions that she had been trying hard not to acknowledge, "pleased for my fellow rat …"
"… but a little jealous of his speed boat." Herc concluded, peering sideways at her for confirmation; unwilling to delve much further, Deborah simply nodded and hummed her assent, looking away and settling down to frown and grumble for the rest of the flight, eager to push away every little musing that possessed her mind in that moment.
Except in that moment the flight-deck door clanged open, and Carolyn must have been listening from outside for the speed with which she picked up the conversational thread; Deborah wasn't even sure what to make of that, but the time for stoic denial was far gone.
"Whose speed boat?" Carolyn demanded, coming to stand between the two pilots' seats, a hand on the back of each as she peered suspiciously between the both of them; thank god for the sturdy sound block nature of the steel door.
"Martin's." Deborah answered swiftly, eyeing Herc cautiously from the corner of her eyes; it was easy to flick that switch and become composed again, now that the tears had receded, "I-I was saying …"
"Oh, well, actually, I don't care." Carolyn interrupted her, waving a hand; well, problem solved, Deborah assumed, taking stock of the useful opportunity to cease the heart to heart, "But talking of Martin, where is it he's having this interview?"
"Yverdon-les-Bains, near Geneva." Deborah supplied dutifully, glancing up at her employer, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Yyyes." Carolyn replied, her eyes narrowing as if in deep thought, "Now that's sort of on the way back for us, isn't it?"
"Yyyes – it sort of is." Deborah answered, her eyebrows furrowing; she wasn't sure what Carolyn was getting at, but was prepared to listen, "I mean, it's a very much going the pretty way …"
"Yes, well, it's only money." Carolyn remarked; at this Deborah exchanged a brief, stunned glance with Herc; that wasn't what Carolyn had said the last time she and Martin had done circuits around the Isle of Wight, "Shall we pop in and pick him up?"
oOoOoOo
While Arthur had run ahead, Deborah hung back behind Herc and Carolyn as they made their way through the airport; even though she was aching to see Martin like someone was tugging her with a rope tied around her ribs, she was also terrified that the sight of him and the news that he possessed would shatter any resolve of calm that she had built.
"Ah. They're in here." Carolyn declared as they turned a corner into a slightly wider more open room; then there he was, Martin, standing with a befuddled looking Arthur.
Deborah barely took in anything that was going on around her, her attention completely invested in Martin's face as his eyes fell on hers, and his expression softened and fell, as if his world was also narrowing down; then again, that was probably wishful thinking, as Martin turned towards them and his eyes flickered to the others, before coming back to rest on hers.
"Er, hi, Carolyn," Martin stuttered; as Deborah's pace slowed, Martin made up for it by stepping closer to her, almost turning away from the others and he tried to close the space between them, stopped only as Deborah deliberately left a foot or so of air, a certain gulf between them, "…Deborah."
"Well?" Deborah demanded softly; she almost reached out to take his hands, and Martin reacted reflexively, but instead, regretting the action immediately, she merely moved a little closer, blinking up at him, stiff with repressed fear.
"Hi, Herc!" Martin muttered as the man appeared in his line of sight; even so, Martin was staring down at her, his cheeks red as he drew his bottom lip through his teeth. Deborah couldn't be sure, but his forehead was crinkling in such a way that made her think that Martin was thinking hard, looking a little lost; it made her want to take hold of him and make things better, but that wasn't her place.
"Never mind that." Deborah said dismissively, eager to get answers out of him; she had to know whether she was losing him or not, and didn't care that the others were there to see, "How did it go?"
"I-I, I-I-I was just telling Arthur about it." Martin remarked, gesturing towards the steward, though his blue eyes never left Deborah's; it was beginning to make something unsettle in her chest, and she found that she was just as confused as Arthur looked.
"Yeah, well, I didn't completely undershtand." Arthur interjected, though he was completely ignored by everyone else.
"Well, then, tell us!" Carolyn ordered hastily; Deborah couldn't bear to look at her when she was so hopeful for good news, when all that she wanted herself was for Martin to have failed terribly, despite how much she wanted him to succeed, "Did you get in?"
For a moment Martin gulped, his throat bobbing, and his seemed a little dewy eyed as he stared, like a lost sheep, around at his crew; Deborah lifted her hand ever so slightly to brush the back of her fingers against his, and his head snapped around to follow the movement.
"… They're going to let me know." Martin finally answered; he blinked hard when the words left his mouth, and an odd calm seemed to settle over him.
That answer seemed enough for Carolyn, Herc, and Arthur, who congratulated Martin for not failing completely off the mark; there was still a fifty-fifty chance that he would get the job, and they were proud of them.
Martin received their praise with a stoic, abashed flush, and rubbed at the back of his neck, mumbling his thanks while Deborah stood to the side, watching and tempering the welling ache in her chest, the one that was genuinely so proud of him, yet so desperate not to let him go. She smiled warmly each time that Martin's eyes wandered back to hers, which was remarkable often, and waited for the others to start making their way back to GERTI before treading lightly to Martin's side where he remained rooted to the spot.
All it took was a slight nudge against his elbow, and Martin jolted back into life, and the two of them began walking slowly in the wake of the others, making their way through the airport side by side. Deborah wasn't sure what to say to him, but whenever she glanced at him, Martin was watching her with a strange expression on his face; the half smile, accompanied by the warm glow in his eyes as they lingered over her features, made the familiar fluttering alight in her chest.
"What?" Deborah demanded lightly, turning until she could run her eyes over his face; an eye for an eye, and all that. It wasn't like Martin was being coy about staring at her.
"What?" Martin retorted, shrugging cluelessly as he extended his hands to his sides, turning and slowing his pace so that they could converse more easily, "What have I done?"
"You're looking at me." Deborah explained dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him and folding her arms over her chest; this was better, and so good, so nice to play and prod with Martin again, especially after a whole day in the company of nosy pests, "Why are you looking at me?"
"I'm not. I'm just thinking." Martin exclaimed, a smirk nonetheless creeping onto his lips as he shook his head; Deborah allowed the pleasant glow to overtake the ache in her chest, deciding in that second that she'd just enjoy Martin now, and worry about a future alone when she wasn't wasting precious moments, "I-it just so happens that you're nicer to look at than the floor."
"Oh, don't you start that!" Deborah instructed coyly, unable to hold back her own smile, waggling a playful finger at him; Martin blushed bashfully, and drew his bottom lip through his teeth, allowing Deborah a moment to mull, and gain the confidence to ask the question that niggled at the back of her mind, "So…it went well…but…how did it go? Did you do everything I told you to?"
"Um…I, uh, more or less…mostly less." Martin answered, bringing his hands together to wind his fingers together; a nervous tick that Deborah recognised, and immediately regretted causing, but then Martin turned back to look her in the eyes, and a self-deprecating smile appeared on his lips, "I um…I told them that I was like a capsized duck."
"Oh?" Deborah couldn't help exclaiming in surprise, raising her eyebrows and pressing her lips together; the way that he was looking at her, patient and expectant, Deborah was sure that Martin wanted her to tease, perhaps a piece of familiarity to help him calm, but it occurred to her that perhaps it might be even better to say what she actually thought, to make him feel good rather than self-conscious, "I…well…" she drawled warmly, letting an affectionate softness fill her body, as she played up looking him over, and smiling, "I can sort of see it."
Instead of retorting, or laughing, or anything that Deborah might have expected, Martin's smile grew warmer, and his eyes almost burnt across her skin as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and a small, almost imperceptible chuckle rumbled in his chest; Deborah had to clear her throat and look away, towards the grimy floor, as for a moment, she felt like nothing had ever changed between them, and she might fall into the fondness that was radiating from Martin's every pore.
"Well…I, uh…thanks, I think…" Martin finally replied, chuckling nervously; he nodded for Deborah to come along as he started to walk once again down the corridor. Deborah hadn't even noticed that they had stopped moving.
Taking pity on him, and wanting the pleasant ease back to the way it had been a moment before, Deborah took a deep breath, and put on her most nonchalant façade, the one that Martin was likely to see through; though, that was rather the point. It was always so much nicer when they were on level footing.
"I've got something that might make you feel less embarrassed." Deborah remarked coyly, waiting for the inquisitive cock of Martin's head before she continued, "Guess who told Herc that…well…that she was the …'Supreme Commander' of GERTI."
Martin let out a pleased, practically erotic gasp, and turned to grasp Deborah's shoulder with one hand, peering down into her eyes in disbelief; his face was a picture of devious, wicked joy.
"Oh, you didn't!" Martin chuckled, his face splitting into the widest grin that Deborah had ever seen, as she felt her cheeks prickle, and dutifully rolled her eyes; with another hearty laugh, Martin swung his arm over her shoulders and began to walk again, "Oh, I want to hear all about that!"
Sometimes, Deborah thought, inwardly berating the negative sparks in her chest; sometimes, it was absolutely worth coming down to his level.
oOoOoOo
It was well past midnight, and Deborah had drawn the curtains hours beforehand, in an attempt to lure her mind into thinking that it was time to sleep; unfortunately, she was anything but tired, kept awake by a whirring in her head that refused to die down. So instead, Deborah had changed into something comfortable and slouched onto her sofa with a book, barely focusing on the words.
Which was why it came as a surprise when an insistent by brief knocking reached her ears; Deborah startled, but as she peered over the top of the sofa, she realised that the noise was coming from the front door.
Groaning slightly, Deborah hoisted herself to her feet and wandered to answer the door, wondering who in their right mind was paying her a visit; shouldn't they have known instinctively that she wasn't in the mood for spontaneous guests.
Deborah was ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, when she yanked the door open, but was stunned into silence at the sight of Martin, wrapped in his over-sized coat, leaning against the side of the frame. His eyes lit up when he saw her, but Martin's mouth fell open and no words came out; it anything, it was the puppy like edge to his expression that prompted her into action.
"Martin?" Deborah exclaimed weakly, raising her eyebrows, despite not knowing quite what to say; all that she had been able to think about since she had said goodbye to him at the end of the day was him, but now that Martin was actually before her, her whole being seemed to stutter, "What are you doing here…so late at night?"
"I wanted to see you." Martin replied hastily, grasping the opportunity and dragging his bottom lip through his teeth as if catching himself; Deborah held as still as she could, one hand still clutching the door handle, and tried not to be blinded by the fluttering in her chest, "I um…I just called things off with Theresa."
"I'm sorry?" Deborah asked, blinking at Martin in disbelief, not quite seeing him; she knew that she should have been feeling something, but the words that had just left his mouth were still reeling through her mind.
"I just called things off; completely." Martin repeated, and this time the message made it through, loud and clear; Deborah couldn't do anything more than gape, frozen by the flickers of hot, scorching something that were tearing through her, at the sight of Martin's flushed cheeks as he surely and certainly said what he wanted to say, "Anything that might have been there is completely over, and done with."
"But, you still might go to Switzerland…" Deborah stated dumbly, staring at Martin as if it might make his confident and jittering posture more real; it felt like someone was reaching into her chest and pulling, yet cold, warning that nothing was as good as it seemed, "Why would you do that?"
"Because I don't want Theresa." Martin explained seriously, no suggestion of second thoughts or doubt anywhere near him as he shifted away from the doorframe to stand a little straighter, taking his hands from his pockets to clench at his sides; Deborah could feel the hard weight at the base of her throat stuttered hopefully, even as her mind rebelled, "I want you."
"What?" Deborah repeated, knowing that this was too good to be true, too difficult even if it was; then like a shot from out of the blue she remembered where they were, and hastily shook her head, releasing the door from her tight grasp so that she could step back and wave Martin in, "Hold on, get in here." Martin smiled gratefully, but Deborah only let him walk as far as it took her to slam the door, before she whirled on him, raised her hands, and said as calmly as she could, "Martin, you explain to me, right now, what is going on."
"I want you back." Martin stated decisively, gazing into Deborah's eyes with such an intensity that she pursed her lips to stop herself from arguing there and then, and tore her eyes from his, nonetheless hanging on his every word, "What I mean to say is, that I-I-I, I'd like you to take me back, because i-it's you I want to be with."
"I don't understand." Deborah replied shortly, shaking her head intermittently as she forced herself to batten down the roaring in her ears and raise her head to hold his gaze; they'd been through this, she had been suffering for his sake, and now he…he was…"Martin-"
"There's nothing to understand." Martin retorted, unable to quite raise a smile as he seemed to realise that whatever he was trying to do wasn't going according to plan, but still gazing imploringly at her, hands rising and falling at his sides, "I love you, and I want to be with you – no one else, just you."
It was too much, too much all at once; especially now that Deborah had come to accept in some small way that way that things were going to be from now on.
"Hold on though." Deborah stopped him, raising her palms to him before wrapping her arms across her chest, not daring to step closer to him without doing something drastic; there he was, the bloody man that she could either pounce on or strangle at a moment's notice, exactly the way that she loved him, declaring his love all over again, "When did you decide this?"
"Today." Martin answered swiftly, his chin pointed upwards imperceptibly, as if he were willing to defend his proud decision at a moment's notice; it was the most put together that Deborah had seen him in months.
"Today?" Deborah repeated, quirking an eyebrow at him as her posture shifted from defensive to deprecating in moments; for god's sake, the man was ridiculous, in every way.
Only Martin could make a romantic gesture into such an annoying spectacle, standing there so proudly in her sitting room; that alone was enough to help Deborah's mind take control and rebel against the flurry taking place beneath her skin wherever his eyes touched, and remember why she absolutely couldn't let it get to her.
"Yes, today." Martin explained, taking a deep breath as if he were steeling herself; like a damned seesaw, Deborah was caught again by sympathy for him in the place of defiance, "I came out of that interview, and then…it just hit me, that with everything else that might be changing, with maybe moving, and MJN, a-and-"
"Slowly Martin." Deborah cut in gently, allowing the tension to leave her shoulders as she moved around him to lean against the back of the sofa; it wasn't his fault that he was tangling her internal organs, reshuffling the decisions that she had made in the past few weeks, not when what he was saying came with such a heartfelt expression, and words that made the air in her lungs feel ten times lighter, "Just run me through exactly what's been going through your head."
"Look, Deborah-" Martin sighed, showing for a split second how tired he really was as he turned to keep his eyes on her; she nodded slightly, allowing him the time to speak, ready to listen instead of argue, "with everything else, the one thing that's important to me, is you. I don't want to settle for Theresa, or anyone – I-I want you. You're the one"
"We broke up Martin." Deborah remarked simply, not trying to be cruel, simply stating the facts and wincing at the quiver in his lips, and the slight sniffle as Martin inhaled and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck; it would be lovely to just fall back together, but Deborah knew, with a swell of pain through her chest, that it wasn't worth the agony that they would inevitably put each other through, "We agreed that we didn't work. Now you think that I'm the one?"
"I am fully convinced that you're the love of my life." Martin replied, in the same tone of voice that he used when citing proper procedure, or giving out orders, even though his cheeks turned an even darker shade of scarlet; it was enough to make Deborah want to throw her arms around him for being so beautifully himself, but instead she simply rested more weight on the back of the sofa, deriving strength from the hard edge, "You're the one person that I love, more than anyone else, and even if I go off somewhere, I'm still going to love you so much, and we shouldn't have-"
"Martin, I've been married twice and have a child with a third man." Deborah interrupted him, raising her hand; she was almost blown down by another wave of affection when his mouth clamped shut without a second thought, "Are you really going to talk to me about 'the one'?"
"M-maybe that's why it didn't work with them." Martin suggested hopefully; with a small stumble that suggested he was doubting his movements, Martin came to perch on the other end of the back of the sofa, facing Deborah eagerly and gesticulating as if for a great idea, "Because I'm the one that you're supposed to be with, l-like we were meant to be together…Deborah, why else would it be so hard for us to stay apart?"
"Because we're always together!" Deborah exclaimed, rolling her eyes when Martin merely shook his head dismissively; for all the tumult inside of her, it didn't feel like an argument, it felt like they were bickering over a word game, and that alone was enough to force a flicker of a smile onto the corner of her lips in response to Martin's own hopeful one, "Martin, what about if you end up going to work for Swiss Air?"
"I might not." Martin replied primly; he was too much of a stubborn…uh…he didn't understand at all why Deborah was reluctant to just 'take him back'. Loving her and wanting to be together wasn't enough; dammit, all Deborah wanted was to be happy, for once, but that couldn't work when they had so many problems- this right here being one of them.
"But what if you do?" Deborah demanded, fighting not to grit her teeth at him; she rose from where she leaned and paced a few steps, before turning back to him, throwing her hands into the air either side of her, "What? Do you want to get back together now and then leave me when the time comes? O-or are you going to ask me to go with you? Because I won't."
"I'm not expecting you to!" Martin insisted, his forehead wrinkling and his nose scrunching up in indignation; then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, continuing calmly, appealing to her from a different angle, "Deborah – c-can you just listen? Just hear what I have to say."
"We agreed that we didn't work, Martin." Deborah replied, ignoring his request as her arms pulled securely around her chest, keeping her together and ensuring that she didn't either cry and send him away, or give in to the pounding in her ears emanating from her chest against her judgement, "We talked about this. At no point did we agree that you'd be turning up here to-"
"I shouldn't have agreed at all." Martin interjected warily, swallowing hard; his eyes were burning into Deborah's and she was too thrown by his declaration to say a word, "Please…just listen."
"I'm listening." Deborah said after a moment of silence that could have shorn whatever it was that was binding the two of them together, refusing to allow the aching in her chest to cease, or the lurching tug to stop trying to yank her into Martin's arms; it wouldn't hurt to hear what he had to say, the treacherous voice in her ear whispered.
It most definitely would hurt to send him away.
"Thank you." Martin sighed, like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders; then his nerves seemed to tremble, and his hands wound together over his lap, while he tried to assemble his thoughts, "Okay…I-I've been thinking, a-a lot actually. I shouldn't have ever just agreed to give up on us –that was pathetic of me, and I'm sorry, I am, but I was hurting-"
"We have problems Martin." Deborah cut him off sternly, fixing him with a pointed glare; she may have been aching, and pining for him, desperate for him to leave so that she could go back to preparing herself for his absence, but she wouldn't let him talk about himself like that.
Martin's expression grew more open, and he blinked in surprise; Deborah tore her eyes from his, and stared sheepishly at the carpet, running her fingers through the loose strands of hair that hung over her face. If only she could stop loving him just enough, it might be easier to let someone other than herself insult him.
"Everyone has problems!" Martin seemed to snap back into action, rising to his feet, but in no way encroaching on her space as he gestured between the two of them, "But we – we love each other. That's one thing that hasn't changed – I know that you are the love of my life, I-I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, or ever will again…but I let you go, and that's the biggest problem between us."
"You can say that-" Deborah sighed, shaking her head, but Martin cut her off before she could linger too long on the same issue they had been over time and time again.
"Yeah, I can say it; but you don't believe it." Martin insisted, grimacing as he lifted a hand to rub over his eyes; Deborah didn't appreciate the self-deprecating tilt of his lips, but said nothing, "And why should you? I understand now, I really do, which is why I'm here, begging you to give us another chance." For a moment Martin looked truly miserable as he met her gaze, and Deborah wished that she could have made that better, she really did; but that wasn't an option, no matter how much sense Martin's words seemed to be making in the messy tangle of her mind, "I've spend the latter part of today thinking about all the things that I could lose if I end up leaving, and I can't lose you."
"But the point still stands that you might leave." Deborah remarked weakly; that was the only clear thought that made it through the hastily ravelling and unravelling in her head, and the clamour in her chest. The clammy paws were actually beginning to fade into tentative flutters, and to her despair, the air around her felt as if it were settling, making everything that little bit more light, and a little bit clearer.
"I might not." Martin said again, determinedly; nope, not light at all, cold and harsh. This was a bad idea; everything that he was making Deborah begin to consider was a bad idea, and she couldn't let herself be lured into it.
"Stop, stop it." Deborah instructed, pulling her arms more tightly around her chest; it was beginning to feel horrible standing in the middle of room, like balancing at the top of a precariously rocking pole, "Let's take Switzerland out of the equation."
Martin needed to get it through his head that it wasn't just him moving away that Deborah was protesting; true, it was a large part of the problem, but that wasn't the only thing. There was no way that she could see that she herself would end up happy, not like she wanted…but she loved Martin, loved him so much…if he could be happy elsewhere, then surely that was the next best thing?
"Fine." Martin agreed, nodding humbly; his hands clenched, and he shoved them into his pockets as he spoke, making more and more sense the longer that Deborah listened, "You were right about me always being the one to make the first move, which means that it was my responsibility to fight for our relationship. And I didn't, and I'm sorry. But I'm here now, and I'm willing to sit down and work through everything that we did wrong, because we're already both changing-"
"It's not enough to want change." Deborah argued, with not nearly enough heat behind her protestation; Martin was beginning to convince her, which was bad, that was so bad, and her body was betraying her, but if she stormed away she was certain that Martin would follow her and try to comfort her and then there would be no stopping the avalanche.
"Well, I think it is." Martin retorted, so damn sure of himself; he removed his hands from his pockets and opened his palms to the world, shrugging weakly and honestly, smiling a thin, hopeful smile at Deborah, the sort that he knew made her fall for him every time, "So, I don't want to fight…I-I just want to give us another go."
Deborah could have said yes; it was on the tip of her tongue, and even the tension between them seemed to fade, as she smiled sadly at Martin, just a quirk of her lips, and blinked hard to bat away the beginnings of tears. He seemed to understand before she even spoke, as his shoulders sagged, and his lip was dragged between his teeth.
"No." Deborah answered, no embellishment, or debate; it didn't matter how they felt, she wasn't going to let them make a mess of 'another go'.
"Right…okay." Martin remarked, politely, disappointed, but with no trace of bitterness; he sniffled a little, but nodded, played the brave man, and then pressed his lips together and stepped a little closer, his eyes boring into Deborah's, "But, j-just so you know, I'm not going to give up." Deborah quirked an eyebrow, unsure of how else to respond when the moths in her chest were rebelling furiously at her decision, "I-I'm not going to hassle you, or shower you in unwanted gestures…but I'm going to keep trying, just sort of asking every now and again."
"You think if you ask nicely every now and again I'll give in and date you?" Deborah inquired, the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, as Martin gave her a shy smile; she could have laughed if she hadn't been so miserable, at how so wonderfully Martin he was being.
"I think you'll remember how nice it was being in love and together, and maybe…want to be with me?" Martin suggested coyly; oh, and now he was teasing her, feeling awfully confident in himself and his hands went back to his pockets and he swung shyly on his heels.
"You could have been in love and together with someone far nicer than me." Deborah reminded him, grasping at anything she could to stop him being so charming all of a sudden, and to stop herself from just crumbling and giving in; she stepped around him until Martin was between her and the door.
"You're perfect." Martin retorted, shaking his head; well, now he was just being deliberately obtuse, Deborah thought, taking a hold of that irritation, choosing it over all of the other feelings as she wafted him towards the door, grateful that he moved without having to be asked.
"There's no such thing as a perfect woman, or a perfect man." Deborah remarked dryly, forcing herself not to smile reflexively at the happy little curl of Martin's lips; she'd said no and he was still acting like his plans would bear fruit, "Perfect people don't exist – well, except perhaps perfect idiots."
"I feel like that might have been aimed at me." Martin replied, as he turned on his heel, and stumbled backwards into the door; his nose scrunched up as he tried to decipher her meaning, and ran his eyes over Deborah's face.
"It was a bit." Deborah admitted, shrugging nonchalantly; this was better, she could deal with this. Let them poke and prod for the rest of their lives if they had to, just god forbid she give in to the tempestuous slurry that burned just beneath her skin; that was more trouble than it was worth, especially as it was currently calculating how easy it would be to press Martin and his smug little face against the door.
"I'm your idiot though." Martin countered smoothly, as if that might help his case as he smirked down at her; Deborah rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply to replace the air that she had just lost.
"Martin…go home." She instructed, reaching past him to open the door; it didn't become any easier to breathe when Martin stepped forwards to allow the door to swing open, and a light breeze to waft in through the space he left being.
"Alright." Martin sighed; giving her one last nod, he left her flat and disappeared into the dark, presumably towards where he had parked his van. Deborah watched until she couldn't see him anymore, and resisted the urge to call after him, closing the door and shutting out the night.
She didn't even make it back to the sofa before she heard a faint tap at the window; cursing the rush of affection at the sound, Deborah rolled her eyes and strode over to the window, pulling back the curtains to find Martin standing sheepishly on the other side.
"Martin, I said go home." Deborah stated irritably as she pushed the glass open; Martin helped to pull it away from the frame, allowing her to prop herself up on the sill and scold him properly, "Don't tell me your van's broken down."
"No, no…" Martin replied hastily, almost nervously, as he gnawed on his bottom lip and feigned nonchalance, huddling into his coat against the chill, "I just um….I forgot to tell you I loved you when I said goodbye. It was quite an important part of my seduction technique, and it completely slipped my mind."
"Luckily for you, I had already received the message loud and clear." Deborah sighed, nonetheless giving in to the flood of warmth that rushed from her chest to the tips of her fingers as she ran her eyes over his wind bitten cheeks; it seemed so much easier to accept that the feelings were there regardless of what she wanted to do, when there was the greater part of a wall between them.
"Oh?" Martin chirped, his eyebrows rising hopefully; he really wasn't going to give up, and a realisation that made something in Deborah's stomach turn not entirely unpleasantly, despite her efforts to purse her lips and hold her resolve, "And it's still a firm no?"
"As firm as a rock." Deborah replied, nodding firmly, her lips reluctantly curling upwards.
"Oh…you're sure?" Martin asked again, one eyebrow ducking suspiciously as he made a show of peering at her expression; chances were, the little shit really did think that he could win her over in time.
"Yes, Martin." Deborah sighed, decidedly not giving in to the thrumming in her chest.
"Okay…I'll, um…I'll give it a week or two before I ask again." Martin informed her, as if he were commenting on the need to book a flight plan; with just as much enthusiasm too, which was somewhat comforting, "You know, j-just sort of, leap out, l-like a pleasant surprise."
"I'm almost looking forward to it." Deborah drawled fondly, letting her eyes flutter down his face, taking in the expression for later; she could play this game if he wanted.
"That's the point." Martin remarked; then he sighed, and it was tangible, the moment that he stopped playing, and became more serious, speaking honestly to her, "I'm…not doing this to be difficult. I just, no games, I just love you, and now that I'm seeing properly, for the first time in well…ages. I'm not going to give up."
With that Martin turned his back to her, and made as if to walk away; before she could stop herself, Deborah was caught by a wave of emotion that might have swept her away had her fingers not been clinging to the window sill.
"Martin!" Deborah called, before he could take more than a step; her eyes were wide and desperate, and she couldn't stand to see him go yet. Oh, dear lord, something he had said had actually gotten through; damn, she could have strangled the sentimental, soppy old romantic nesting in the curve of her ribs.
"Hmmm?" Martin hummed in acknowledgement, looking her up and down as he returned to the window, allowing Deborah to grasp at his sleeve with the tips of her fingers, leaning in away from the cold.
"This isn't me giving in." Deborah told him pointing dangerously with the other hand as she rested the one on his arm; she meant it, this didn't mean a thing, not really, "This isn't consent for a relationship, and it doesn't mean I want to get back together. It is what it is, and nothing more."
"Wha-" Martin couldn't even get the question from his lips before Deborah leaned through the window and slammed hers against them; what did emerge was more of a stunned squeak that tumbled into a triumphant groan as his hands flew up, one to take a hold of her shoulder, the other to tangle through her hair.
Deborah pushed into the kiss, moving her lips against Martins and fighting not to collapse from the surge of heat that tingled through her chest and up through her hands, as she flattened her palms against his cheeks, allowing him to pull her deeper and more intimately against him as best as he could with the wall between them, shifting to wrap one around the back of his neck while all that she could think about was how much she had missed this, and his mouth against hers, relentless and being held tightly in one place and the kiss inevitably became messy and desperate and they just pushed and pulled against each other.
Then Deborah pulled away, forced herself to break and to breathe, letting her hands linger just as Martin's did, her fingers tips trailing through his hair and over his cheeks that matched it for colour, while the back of his knuckles brushed against the side of her face and he blinked slowly, bedazzled, back at her; she tried not to imagine that she looked the same, but it was difficult when the few centimetres between them were charged, and she could barely tear her eyes from his.
"I love you too." Deborah told him, quietly, cherishing how his eyes slipped down to follow the movement of her lips, before trailing up to gaze into hers again; she was sure that she had just done the same thing, "But I don't want to take you back."
Martin leaned back, allowing them to disentangle from each other, hands returning to pockets and window sills as they should have been; but his face was split into a wide grin, and Deborah was well aware that she had just ruined any future attempts that she was going to make, to try and convince him that they weren't ever getting back together.
"We'll see." Martin remarked brightly; then, still beaming, he turned and wandered back into the night, until Deborah was sure she could just hear him jumping and hissing in victory.
Well, damn… nearly twelve years sober but she couldn't stir up enough will power to keep her hands off Martin.
Wow - some days you just get so caught up in something, that it's 7 hours later and this is born. I hope this satiated everyone's palets?
Anyone queries or complaints, do feel free to drop me your thoughts