Hello all, and I hope your week has started well. Here's the next chapter.
Chapter 47
One week, that was how long it had been since Martin had left; Deborah could just about say that she was coping, or at least, not crying and moping about her flat as if the world had ended. No, she carried on with a renewed vigour, putting all of her energy into MJN as if the world were just beginning anew, and needed a kick-start to keep it running.
Of course, they could only do flights that allowed for one pilot, but that only restricted them to the more westerly side of Europe, not a problem, easily done; Deborah could do those flights in her sleep. The problem was finding clients that only wanted to go so far, and no further, and finding them in such a density that MJN kept making money, in the limited sense that it made money at all.
Carolyn had spent the weekend of Martin's departure calling all of her contacts and informing them that shorter flights were now 20% cheaper, and ready to go at short notice, which to her credit, did gain a couple of assurances that companies and businessmen would consider booking them for important meetings and such over the next month. She had also called the few allies that advertised the company, mostly other airports and travel agents, to convince teenagers and honeymooners that MJN was the place for them.
That was fine, and it kept Carolyn busy, as well as keeping Deborah and Arthur occupied as they rifled through Martin's filing system and made the adjustments and additions as was necessary; but it wasn't enough to keep them afloat. MJN just wasn't popular enough, nor loud enough, to draw in those that might want hassle free flights within Europe; most of their long term clients were wealthy and upper class, and wanted to fly far away and for long periods of time.
That may have been alright when such a feat was possible and they had time to fit in brief hops here there and everywhere, but Deborah wasn't superwoman, no matter how much she might like to convince others, and Carolyn was too aware of her limits to try and force overtime or extremely unsafe jobs.
So Deborah had done what she always did, what she was relied upon to do, and did the sneaky bit; Carolyn would be furious if she knew that the recent influx of short distance business was due to Deborah's interference, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Deborah wanted her job, and she wanted it to stay as it was, so if that meant using every trick in the book, then she would, even if she came across as desperate.
The day after Martin had left, Deborah had sat cross-legged on her bed, and called her brother; they didn't talk often, only once a month if neither of them forgot or had something better to do, and it was almost always him that called. This wasn't down to antipathy like the Crieffs, or any ridiculous feud like Carolyn's family; no, Deborah and Archie had just never been that close.
So Deborah would listen to a brief rundown of what was going on in his life, and he would inquire after her, and after Verity (having no children of his own, he was always keen to know what was going on with his niece), but beyond that, the conversation always boiled down to 'hello' ''how are you' 'I'm fine' 'Good'.
But not this time; this time Deborah had needed Archie's help, and it only took the minimal amount of begging for him to take pity and help his little sister out of trouble again; in his own words, hiring her airline seemed like a walk in the park compared to some of the things he'd done for her. Deborah wasn't stubborn enough to argue, knowing that deep down, he was right.
Archie had started out as a clothes designer, or a 'fashion designer' as he had demanded she call it; Deborah could just about recall being very, very young, and wishing that she could wear the beautiful clothes that he drew in his notepads for the grown-up school that he had been at then. From there he had worked his way up to designing for models, then running photo shoots and events, and now at the age where he could very well be retiring if he wanted to, Archie was in some senior position in a modelling agency or fashion magazine; Deborah could never remember which.
The important thing was that Archie was in charge of arranging where his models and his writers and bureaucrats went, and when, and how they got there; the perfect opportunity to ask that he perhaps consider saving money by using a smaller, more private airline to ferry his employees across the sunnier and more fashionable expanses of western Europe.
It was asking a lot, but to Deborah's relief, Archie had agreed; he even booked the flights in his company's name so that Carolyn wouldn't suspect that Deborah had been poking her nose in and pulling strings.
Today was the first day that this secret deal was coming into action; MJN was supposed to be flying a group of models and their camera people, and directors, over to Paris, and back again. Carolyn had narrowed her eyes at the phone as flights were booked throughout the next month, and whoever was on the other end (Deborah assumed that Archie was calling himself, but it might have been his PA), promised to book more if the month went well, but she hadn't said a suspicious word, so Deborah assumed that she was in the clear.
Arthur, who had been dejected and unusually sombre since Martin's departure, seemed oddly thrilled at the idea of spending time locked in a steel tube with some models; that, in itself, was enough to convince Deborah that she had done that right thing, so long as Arthur was still happy enough to be…well, happy.
All in all, Deborah was coping…it was hardly the first time she had pushed everything back and carried on with her life; besides, she still got to talk to Martin, over the phone, on her laptop. That didn't do anything to soften the blow to her guts that she felt every time she realised how quiet the flat, or the porta-cabin, or the plane was, nor did it make it any easier to quell the churning misery in her chest as she walked past her spare room full of Martin's things, or his van in the driveway; she had been thrilled to get a driveway and a spare room when she had taken the flat, a far better deal than the couple in the upstairs flat of the two storey building, but now, she was beginning to regret ever moving in at all.
Not that that would have kept Martin by her side…
Deborah tried not to linger on such thoughts as she prepared to leave the flat, slipping her coat on over her uniform and hoisting her flight-bag over her shoulder; that hadn't stopped her thinking about in throughout the entire drive to the airfield every day of the last week, but perhaps if she tried particularly hard, today she would reach work without the aching dreariness tugging at her throat.
oOoOoOo
Half way across the Channel, and Deborah was growing bored of being alone on the flight-deck; the heart-wrenching pang that she felt every time she glanced at the empty Captain's seat was reduced slightly when there were others in the room with her, but today both Arthur and Carolyn were occupied seeing to their passengers, so Deborah had to entertain herself by making up redundant word games.
Arthur was, as expected, fascinated and enraptured by the models; they weren't the stick thin plastic women that Deborah had been expecting (much to her chagrin and shame) but rather perfectly normal women that were nonetheless stunning in their smiles and laughter and the confidence of their poise. Such was the reason that Carolyn kept trying to send Arthur back to make coffee, but instead, he was hovering around like a gnat.
Deborah inhaled slowly, stretching and clicking her hands around the controls where they sat cool beneath her palms, rolling her shoulders back and trying not to be too uncomfortable in her stuffily padded seat; just a few more hours and she could go home and see if Martin was available for a chat, even for a few minutes so that they could lay their eyes on each other.
She was shaken from her miserable musings by the sound of the flight-deck door swinging open, and the faint chatter from the cabin floating in; now that she was on her own, Deborah could only spare a fleeting glance over her shoulder to see that Arthur was pulling the door closed behind him before having to turn back to monitor the control panel.
"Oh, hello." Deborah greeted him dourly, noting that Arthur remained at the back of the flight-deck, hovering around the jump-seat with one hand on the back of her seat; swallowing her dejection, she forced a lightness, and smiled wanly in the hopes that he would see it and run with the mood, "Did you grow bored of the beautiful and charming women and their polite colleagues?"
"No, but Mum made– Mum suggested that I come in here for a bit." Arthur replied, in a tone of voice that made it very clear that it wasn't a decision that he agreed with, even though he was hardly one to complain about complying; Deborah couldn't help but smile, a genuine smile this time. It had come to light recently that he was single again, and she couldn't blame him for trying.
"Were you talking our passengers into an early grave again?" Deborah inquired fondly, glancing upwards, but only able to catch a glimpse of Arthur's arm; normally when it was just the two of them, he would slump into the Captain's seat…the fact that he wasn't today made something uncomfortable clench in her abdomen.
"No, no, I wasn't bothering them much, I was just asking questions." Arthur explained quickly, making it clear that he had most definitely been bothering them, though Deborah doubted that he could have been doing much more than asking about their jobs, "But Mum said something about dogs in heat, which I didn't understand because we've got the air-con on, but I understood that she wanted me gone, so here I am."
"Well, don't hang around in the back, sit down." Deborah instructed decidedly, waving an arm towards Martin's seat…the Captain's seat; they needed to stop pretending that life had come to a halt, and besides, it was getting dreadfully boring without someone to talk to.
"Oh, okay." Arthur agreed, somewhat reluctantly; nevertheless, he sidled between the seats and dropped into the empty one, settling back into the padding and extending his arms and rapping his fingers uncomfortably, shifting and shooting Deborah a flickering smile as he tried to buoy the mood, "It's quite nice up here; I think I might stay here for the rest of the flight, keep you company."
"There's no need to keep me company if you'd rather chat up the passengers." Deborah remarked, immediately clasped by a surge of regret, despite her pleasant albeit sarcastic demeanour; maybe she was being to forceful, getting him to stay, it wasn't her place to make people entertain her.
No, Deborah grimaced internally, that was just needless worrying brought on by withdrawal from Martin; saying goodbye had knocked her internal balance off kilter, making it difficult to know whether she was trying too hard to fill the space, or not hard enough.
"I want to keep you company." Arthur repeated certainly, nodding as if that might compound his intention; there was no doubt that now he was thinking about it, he probably did want to stay with her, now that he was fidgeting a little less, and slumping comfortably beside her, "It's a bit quiet without Martin here, not that I'm not glad that he's somewhere better, but-"
"Yes, I understand, Arthur." Deborah cut him off wearily, pursing her lips and taking a moment to close her eyes and press her hand over her lids; this was the over-arching emotion of the last week – exhaustion. She wanted everything to fill her time alone, but could barely stand anything for more than a minute or two.
"Right…um, Deborah?" Arthur couldn't stay quiet for more than a few moments, in which Deborah was incredibly grateful for the fleeting quiet, filled only by the solid presence of another person; when Deborah deigned to turn her head and raise an expectant eyebrow, he wasn't frowning so much as watching her cautiously, like one would a dormant volcano, as he played with the dud switches on the side of the seat, "I know you're going to say that you're fine, but are you actually fine? Because, if you weren't, and you wanted to talk, then I wouldn't mind talking, or-"
"I'm fine." Deborah replied curtly, turning away from Arthur to gaze out into the sky, barely registering the fluffy wisps outside; normally she got on so well with him, beautifully in fact, like the best of friend, or as he was convinced, family, but now…she just wasn't in the mood.
When she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time she and Arthur had actually spent time together that wasn't a heart to heart tainted by tears; they used to spend time together, play games, laugh at how the both of them were on completely different pages, just lie in the sun and ignore each other. As Deborah tried to think back over the past few years, to try and pick out the fun that she and Arthur must have been having, all she seemed able to find were images of her and Martin in the flight-deck, or at her flat…no, that couldn't be right.
"Really?" Arthur asked, surveying her with a doubtful expression on his face, his brown eyes flickering over her as if checking just in case there might be physical evidence of her deceit; he may have been a clot, but he knew Deborah, and she couldn't find it in herself to lie, especially with all of the new worries swimming around her head.
"I miss Martin, of course I do, and it's strange not having him around." Deborah informed him swiftly, taking a deep breath to fill her lungs and reduce the clenching around her heart; she wouldn't allow herself to give in to the misery of before; dull and emptiness maybe, but none of that teary, pitiable mess that she had been drowning in before, "But I'm fine."
"Okay…" Arthur nodded slowly, but he didn't sound convinced at all; Deborah didn't respond, but pouted slightly as she glared out of the window, rolling the yoke in her palm until Arthur cleared his throat and remarked brightly, playing the optimist as ever, "I'm still going to stay here though. It's nice to get a bit of peace and quiet, isn't it?"
"Hmmm…" Deborah hummed in muted agreement, allowing Arthur the benefit of the doubt; she wasn't going to ask him to stay, or send him away, or force him to endure her dreary mood if he didn't have to. Hopefully he'd be quiet enough that she could mull over her thoughts and try to reassert the 'coping' that she had been exercising from the moment that had left her flat.
"Have you got any word games?" Arthur inquired suddenly, almost startling Deborah, who turned and sighed, propping her elbow up on the arm of her seat so that she could rest her cheek on her fist; he smiled and shrugged, and continued as if she had replied in the affirmative, "I know I'm not normally very good, but I can try extra hard so that I'm nearly as good as Skip was."
Oh…oh, that wasn't good, that wasn't what Deborah wanted at all; Arthur had been avoiding her because of Martin's absence, and now that she thought about it, Deborah realised that he had been doing it because of Martin's presence as well. That wasn't to say that Arthur didn't adore the both of them, you'd have to be a fool not to see that the three of them were close, but oh… that was why Deborah couldn't recall the last time they had spent time together properly.
She'd been so caught up being in love with Martin, fighting with Martin, spending every damn minute with Martin, that while she could rely on the fact that Arthur was always there, Deborah had been neglecting him something awful. He was only trying to cheer her up.
The realisation made that familiar rush of guilty pin pricks creep up and through her chest, and Deborah plastered on a smile, forcing herself to be cheerful for Arthur; she could be sad at home if she must, but at work, at work she was going to get on with her life, for the sake of maintaining what she and Arthur had.
If she accidently pushed Arthur away, there wouldn't be anyone left.
"Oh, Arthur, no, you don't have to try and match up to Martin." Deborah told him firmly, finally turning to face him straight on, reaching across to give his wrist a little squeeze while keep a hold on the controls, "You're fine the way that you are."
"Aw, thanks Deborah!" Arthur exclaimed, his grin settling more comfortably onto his face as he settled back in the seat; Deborah hadn't even realised that he had been tense until that point, and found herself determined to put the situation to rights, spurred on by the infinitesimal flicker of warmth in her chest.
"You're welcome." Deborah replied, adopting a tone that wasn't quite happy, but an accurate facsimile of her usual, jaunty and drawling tone; she shot Arthur one last smirk before she rolled her shoulders back and faced forwards, plucking at one of the games that she had been inventing when she had been alone, "I've got one actually, and it's not too difficult."
"Ooh, go on." Arthur prompted her, running with the bait and slipping back into his optimistic and content ways as he swivelled in his seat and waited attentively for her to provide; this was good, even if the rest of her life was a mess, Deborah had to admit, this bit still felt nice.
"You have to make a story, but each word has to start with a consecutive letter of the alphabet; when one person finishes a sentence, it goes to the next person." Deborah explained, making sure to speak slowly as she gestured steadily with her free hand; in actuality, it wasn't a game that she had invented, merely one that she had remembered from her childhood, not that Arthur needed to know that, "The winner is the one to produce the longest sentence."
"How d'you mean?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowing in confusion; not quite the glittering admiration that Deborah had wanted, but she supposed that she hadn't really expected any less, and was willing to be patient for the sake of finally having some decent company, some that she wasn't going to taint with her miserable demeanour.
"Um, for example…" Deborah made a point of pressing her lips together in thought and narrowing her eyes as she rifled through her brain for something that made sense, lifting her hand to trace her chin with the tips of her fingers, "A Blue Cat Drank Everything. A, B, C, D, E…"
"Oh, I get it – that's a brilliant game!" Arthur sighed proudly, as he sat back in his seat and brought his hands together as if to generate more thought, his tongue darting through his lips as his eyes darted this way and that; perhaps it was a bit too much to ask that he be able to join her games at the level she was used to playing, "Um…"
"I'll start you off." Deborah suggested, not waiting for Arthur's cursory nod before she spoke; she smirked smugly, straightening her back and relishing the oh so hard to find feeling of superiority that she hadn't grasped in a long time, "Arthur Better Cook Deborah Edible Food. Now you."
"Okay, um…uh…" Arthur prevaricated, slumping just a fraction more into the seat; Deborah allowed herself to listen to the humming of the engines, and Arthur's murmurs for only a moment before she interjected.
"Whenever you're ready." Deborah remarked, taking care not to seem impatient, merely…prodding encouragingly as she leaned forwards to tweak the controls and silence the alarm before it sounded, catching the flashing light just in time; GERTI may have been giving up the ghost, but Deborah could keep playing her part like this forever if she had to, of that she was absolutely determined.
"Um…I've got it!" Arthur declared triumphantly, raising his hands into the air as if calling for attention; Deborah wasn't expecting much, but she raised her eyebrows expectantly nonetheless as he reeled off, stiltedly and with great laggings pauses, his turn, "Greatly He…Identified…Jelly King…Lying…H, I, J, K, L, M…oh, Miserably Nowhere! Full stop, your go."
Not quite, but at least he had grasped the general idea; Deborah couldn't help the small snort that left her lips as she smiled faintly, rolling her eyes and turning back to the skies, content that Arthur was content.
"You've taken my soap opera and turned it into a fantasy I see; you've missed your calling." Deborah remarked sarcastically, sparing Arthur a fleeting glance as he nodded and smiled gratefully, not really understanding the joke, but apparently appreciating the tone, "Alright…you stopped at N? Oh, Perfect Queen…Rally Some Troops Under Verona's…Windows…"
"X-ray Your Zoo!" Arthur exclaimed dramatically, lurching forwards excitedly and making Deborah jump before she had even finished her sentence; he didn't waste a moment as he glared at her to continue, or declare him the winner, or whatever it was that went on in his head, she couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Yes, just about." Deborah feigned a grimace and shook her head imperceptibly to shake away the residual bewilderment that such highly charged interactions with the man tended to leave; she barely noticed that the nauseous sensation in her guts had begun to lift, and what had felt like a headache of sharp edges was beginning to soften into a pleasant periphery hum all around her, "You have a go at starting one."
"Oh, alright, I'm starting to get the hang of this." Arthur chirped, sounding rather pleased with himself as he continued to fidget and shift in his seat, apparently unable to stay still when charged with enjoyment.
"More or less." Deborah remarked wryly; he wasn't awful, and it wasn't as if she had alternative choices of entertainment, so she was willing to adjust their height and trajectory, and wait patiently for him to come up with something that he deemed worthy.
"Right…" Arthur announced, raising his hands and sucking in a breath; the imaginary drumroll was almost tangible, and Deborah was caught between biting back a smile and telling him to hurry up and get on with it, "Arthur Bakes Cookies During Every Friday!"
"Are we chronicling your culinary adventures or am I allowed to deviate from the kitchen?" Deborah inquired dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him across the space between them; this was more like it, a nice, familiar rhythm of communication.
"You don't have to stay in the kitchen if you don't want to." Arthur replied matter-of-factly, pivoted as he was towards her, waiting for her to parry back a response so that he could continue playing; if nothing else, his enthusiasm made up for the …eclectic nature of his turns.
"Why, thank you." Deborah remarked brightly, humouring him; if she concentrated on this and allowed herself to forget her troubles for an hour or two, then there was no reason that she couldn't enjoy the companionship, instead of the dull ache that she had been carrying around with her, "Get Him In, Just…"
They carried on for about half an hour, and with each new round of her game, Deborah found herself more content than the last, far too distracted by Arthur's determination to win and his unbreakable fit of competitive joy to dwell on the fact that Martin wasn't there, and that she was very much still mourning his loss; every now and then she would pause, and there would be a lull in the conversation as Deborah waited for the resigned but fond exasperation that she had become so used to, but Arthur either didn't notice, or didn't want to linger, as he just barrelled on with the game.
"All Bold Cats Die…Even Furry, Greasy, Healthy…Intelligent…Juicy…Kittens." Arthur reeled off, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he hunched forwards, his elbows propped on his knees; they were just about flying over Paris, and had yet to be disturbed by either passengers or Carolyn, so something must have been going well in the Cabin.
"Hold on, you can't just list adjectives!" Deborah exclaimed indignantly, shooting a charged glare above reluctantly twitching lips at Arthur in between her checks on the controls; it may have been a throwaway idea, but she was actually getting quite caught up in the simplicity of the game, in a way that she hadn't for months, "That's cheating!"
"You never said that when we started." Arthur replied curtly, shaking his head and pursing his lips with an air of superiority, as if he were winning; the pointed prickle of his eyes on her served only to make it more difficult to argue with him.
Behind them, Deborah thought she heard the flight-deck door swish open, but as no one alerted her to their presence, and the chatter could still just about be heard above the humming of the engines, she chose to ignore it.
"Oh, fine, you can have your problematic kittens." Deborah huffed dramatically, batting a hand through the air towards Arthur, as she rifled hastily through her mind; if he was going to cheat, then there was no reason that she couldn't as well, and win, "H, I, J, K…Look, My New Orphan Puppies…Quiz Rigorously Seven…Tricky, Ugly, Vociferous…Wet, Xylophonic, Yellow, Zebras."
"What on Earth are you two talking about?" Carolyn's voice interrupted the truncated sound that left Arthur's mouth as he was about to respond, and Deborah only jumped slightly before glancing over her shoulder; Carolyn was looking between the two of them with eyes filled with confusion, not moving further into the room, "You sound like a pair of broken self-service checkouts."
"It's an alphabet game." Arthur explained, turning in the seat until he could lean over the back, one arm slung over the low ridge; to be fair, it wasn't the oddest thing that Carolyn had walked in on her crew doing, so Deborah couldn't muster up any sense of embarrassment.
"Is it really." Carolyn drawled, still peering between them with a pinched, crinkled edge to her expression; shaking her head as if shaking away her cares, Carolyn stepped closer to lean on the back of Deborah's seat, "Shouldn't we be landing soon, Pilot?"
"Yes, I suppose." Deborah sighed, rolling her eyes until she could glance over her shoulder at Carolyn, and bat her eyelashes, treating her to a small smile; Carolyn looked surprised by the gesture, but didn't say a word, for which Deborah was grateful, "I was considering just skipping Paris and taking you all on a spontaneous holiday, but I can land if you want."
"Please do." Carolyn replied sharply, regaining her domineering stature; Deborah couldn't help but exchange a glance with Arthur as Carolyn turned and strode from the flight-deck, enjoying the moment of mutual exasperated humour.
Martin may be gone, but that didn't meant that anything had really changed; things were back to the way that had been before, except now, they had the joy of five years added bonding, and experience's influence. For the first time in a week, Deborah felt almost content with the direction that her life was taking.
So, shaking her hair behind her shoulders, and plucking her hat from where she had let it fall to the floor, Deborah made sure that her head was properly adorned, before leaning forwards and holding down the intercom button; this had always been her favourite thing to do on flights; she just needed to get back into the swing of it.
"This is your pilot speaking. We'll be landing in Paris within the next twenty minutes, so if it so suits you, you could return to your seats, engage your seatbelts, and put your tray in the upright positions." Deborah announced into the intercom, glancing sideways at Arthur and relinquishing her previous efforts not to smirk and seem like she was enjoying herself, "If not, then feel from to enjoy the, what I assume is a thrilling, experience of toppling down the middle of the aisle."
Arthur stayed in the flight-deck during the landing, which went smoothly considering that Deborah had to do it herself; not that she couldn't, but she had become incredibly used to letting things slip on the basis that Martin would pick up after her. However, when the time came to see off the passengers, he had to leave, and all of a sudden the buoyant atmosphere that she had garnered seemed at risk of being punctured.
She turned in her seat as she watched Arthur rise from his seat and squeeze through to the back of the flight-deck, trying to keep the faint frown from her face; moving on she may have been, but Deborah couldn't quite appreciate the sanctity of silence quite yet. Everything felt just that little bit emptier without the persistent rumble of the plane around them.
Martin wasn't there, but he wasn't the only friend that she had.
"Hey, Arthur." Deborah called out, before she could change her mind; she curled her fingers over the back of her seat and peered across the room at Arthur, who paused and hummed to acknowledge her statement, "If you still wanted to keep me company, we could do something this afternoon, if you wanted, that is."
"Oh, yeah, that would fun." Arthur remarked, with genuine enthusiasm, as he placed his hands on the open door, "What sort of thing do you want to do?"
"What sounds the most fun to you right now?" Deborah inquired carefully; the answer could have been anything, but in the mood that she was in, she was willing to go along with any of the limited sources of entertainment that Fitton provided.
"We could go bowling?" Arthur suggested, after a moment's thought; that wasn't too bad of an idea, Deborah had to admit, as he continued talking as he was wont to do, "I'm not great at it yet, but I'm getting better."
"Fantastic." Deborah replied swiftly, rapping her hands against the back of her chair before nodding towards the Cabin, plastering on a smile, "A guaranteed good day then. We'll discuss it when you've seen to our passengers."
"Alright, will do." Arthur chirped, smiling and then giving her a little wave as he passed into the Galley, "See you in a bit, Deborah."
Then Deborah was left alone, to complete the post-landing checks on her own.
oOoOoOo
To her mild surprise, Deborah actually quite enjoyed bowling with Arthur; he wasn't very good at all, which made winning a little less fun, but after an hour Deborah asked the owners to put up the lane barriers, and the two of them set up a little competition which involved calculating the angle and trajectory, and flinging the balls so that they bounced at speed towards the pins.
It definitely added an element of danger to the game, and when Deborah had gotten over the little voice in her head that whispered about how Martin would be good at this, with the angles and the calculations, she felt lighter than she had in a very long time, filled with warmth and enjoyment for the first time in a week, as they laughed and cheered, and Arthur actually lifted her off her feet when he swept her into a congratulatory hug in return for her victory.
But eventually Deborah had started to check her watch, and the time came for them to go their separate ways and head home, as the anxious tick that had developed at the back of Deborah's throat of late began to nag at the corners of her mind; Martin would be off of work by now.
And yet, as Deborah bustled around her empty flat, and slipped into the shower, then her pyjamas, and then into bed, pulling her laptop onto her lap and shucking up the covers as she propped herself against the headboard, she couldn't quite reach the depths of depression that plagued her just the night before. There was none of the lethargy, or the swirling in her guts, nor the icy tricking through her veins; simply a sad, but endurable calm, and a shiver of excitement as the video messager opened on her screen.
Then Martin's face filled the screen, pale and freckled, surrounded by a dark and pitched halo of computer light, but still the best thing that she had seen all day; bolstered by a rush of burning affection, Deborah felt her face light up of its own accord, and she beamed at him, settling more comfortably into her pillows.
"Hello You." Deborah drawled in greeting, her voice almost glowing as it reached her ears; god, it might ache to have him so far away, but getting to see and speak to Martin felt like the best thing in the world, enough to make her skin fizzle and her fingers flex with the need to reach out and touch him.
"Deborah." Martin replied, almost a relieved sigh, his cheeks flushing red as the corners of his eyes crinkled with the force of the tired, yet bright grin on his face, as his gaze flickered shamelessly up and down, cataloguing her expression; his head grew in size a fraction as he presumably leaned even closer to his own laptop.
"Martin." Deborah shot back, smirking at the momentary bewilderment that crossed his face; he really was exhausted, she noted, as Martin ran a hand over the back of his neck, through his hair, ruffling it, then blinking hard.
"Yes, I'm sorry." Martin cleared his throat, then let out a nervous laugh as he began to stare, once again, at her image, as if he were seeing the face of an angel or a life raft; there was something a little off, but Deborah hoped that it was just the stress of a new job and a new country, so simply smiled at him as she waited for him to collect his thoughts, "Hi, hello – god I've missed looking at you today."
"You're feeling soppy today I take it?" Deborah murmured, sliding down into her pillows so that she could bring her knees up to her chest and tuck her laptop against her, so that they could have been talking face to side, warm and comfortable; even though she wanted him to be happy, there was something nice about having Martin's complete attention centred on her.
"A bit, yes." Martin replied, nodding wearily; then his eyes squeezed shut as a yawn overtook him, and he shifted away from the camera to rub at his eyes with his curled fist, looking much like a disgruntled cat, but with black bags under his eyes.
"You look exhausted." Deborah remarked, lifting her hand to trail her finger over the screen where Martin's cheeks should have been, if he had been within arm's reach; Martin rolled his eyes and shrugged, but she continued, carried by the wash of love that rippled gently from her toes to her nose, "How was today?"
"I-I'm just tired, that's all." Martin explained, smiling wanly, but blinking slowly, as he did when he was fighting off the dastardly clutches of sleep; Deborah nodded encouragingly, just a tilt of his head, and he carried on, shifting as if he were trying to lie down with his computer propped at head height, "It's uh…it's been a long day, there's um, t-there's been a lot of paper work, obviously, because it's my first week, a-and they've been getting me to do lots of little flights to see how good I am at different things so…"
"So…?" Deborah pushed curiously, pushing her hair behind her ears as she reacted reflexively to his movements, shifting and settling her laptop in the crook of her arms, as Martin trailed off, obviously reluctant to talk about his ordeal; she needed to know, this would never work if they didn't talk to each other properly.
"So, I'd much rather hear what you've been up to." Martin said decisively, inhaling deeply and setting his jaw; when Deborah didn't argue, out of concern for his emotional state, his eyes flickered once again over her face, and he remarked, "You look, well, you look really great tonight, compared to – you always look great but, especially today."
"It's because I'm smiling, and I wasn't for the past six days." Deborah replied wryly, smiling a little wider just to make a point; she couldn't say that she was happy, per say, but the misery that had been dragging her down wasn't pounding quite so violently in her ears as it had been.
"Yeah…" Martin sighed, blushing a little darker, possibly in shame; that was the last thing that Deborah wanted, but she could only watch him fondly as he fussed and sighed on the other end of the video call, as his dejection was completely understandable, "it's been a tough week, b-being away from each other."
"Believe me, darling, I'm the last person that needs informing." Deborah drawled, letting a slither of lethargy enter her tone; pretending to be cheerful could only get her so far, and it was too late at night to be anything but sleepy and pliant.
"Yes, of course, obviously." Martin stuttered awkwardly, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth; he really did seem out of sorts, and Deborah wished that it would suddenly become easier to talk to each other from so far away, even though she knew that it would probably never be the same as when they had been together, "So, um, what have you been up to?"
"Just a flight to Paris and back." Deborah told him, putting into her expression every ounce of how dull and uninteresting it had been; it was difficult, keeping the balance between misery and enjoyment just right so as not to make Martin think that he was too missed, or too easily dismissed, "And then Arthur took me bowling, so that was interesting."
"He's doing a good job at cheering you up then?" Martin asked quickly, his eyes widening and his brows leaping up seriously; he was worried about her, that much hadn't slipped past Deborah's radar, not that she would let him know just how not alright she really was, "You're not so…anymore?"
Sad? She was more sad than she had been since she had first lost her daughter…but, even though Martin could read it in her face, she wasn't going to sour his big opportunity.
"I'm still very much…but yes, it's a two way street." Deborah admitted, though she made an effort to seem unaffected, and not to grimace as Martin's expression fell, and he moved as if he were grasping his computer tightly, his blue eyes dewy, "We all miss you, even Carolyn."
"Hmmm, I haven't spoken to Carolyn this week though." Martin replied, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing as he pushed his hand through his hair; Deborah knew that she should have been demonstrating great interest in what he was saying, but she was far too distracted by the fluttering of concern over the exhaustion that was growing more obvious in the lines on his face, as well as the sluggish edge to his movements, "Neither's Herc actually, so I don't know what's going on there."
"I think she's just grumpy because he's facilitating the loss of her free pilot." Deborah remarked flippantly, then immediately regretted it at the indecipherable expression on Martin's face, "Even if she was pushing you to take the job, she misses you."
"That's nice to know, I suppose." Martin muttered, quirking his eyebrows; the picture on Deborah's screen tilted momentarily, and when Martin's face reasserted itself, she assumed that he was lying down completely, with his laptop on his chest, "What else do you want to talk about?"
"I want to know what's happening in your life, what your week's been like." Deborah insisted sternly, giving in to the nagging tug behind her eyes that wanted to go to sleep, and instead bringing the laptop to her chest so that she could slip down her pillows and lie on her side, pulling her covers up to her shoulders and tipping her computer on its side beside her head; it wouldn't make for a good picture, but if the darker dusting of a blush across Martin's cheeks were any indictor, as well as the affectionate smile, he didn't mind, "You've been quite hush hush about it all."
Actually, Deborah mused, this was nicer; something about it felt much more intimate, as if they could have been lying in bed together, so long as she didn't give in to the aching need to reach out and touch him.
"I'm living it." Martin retorted, rolling his eyes as if done with the world in general; immediately Deborah felt guilty for pushing, and glanced down at the keys to avoid Martin's gaze, running the tip of her finger along the touch pad, "I will tell you, just – just not now, I'm tired and I miss home."
"Well, what do you want to talk about, while we lay here, in bed, curled up with our laptops?" Deborah inquired softly, daring to lift her eyes and take in Martin's face again; she wanted to see him, talk to him, but Martin was right…and conversation wasn't quite as easy as it sounded.
The first few times that they had spoken had gone much the same way, with stilted back and forths that dissolved into platitudes and declarations, and then teary goodbyes as they both realised that if they didn't stop, one of them would be getting on a plane in the next half hour; and that couldn't happen, and they had to start coping in their new lives, no matter how difficult that was.
Martin didn't reply straight away; his mouth opened, and his eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching in the middle, but then no sound came out, and his whole face turned scarlet as his watched Deborah with a shadow of affectionate suspicion that she was well accustomed to.
"I-I'm not entirely sure what you're hinting, but if it's what I think it is…" Martin took a deep breath before he finished, which was long enough to pique Deborah's curiosity, as she propped herself up on one elbow and quirked an eyebrow at him, "I'm-not-sure-I-want-to-have-video-sex-in-Herc's-s pare-room."
"I wasn't suggesting anything." Deborah laughed, a slight thing that quickly crumbled into giggles that shook her chest and filled it with the sort of wonderful, raging fluttering that she had been missing since Martin had left her; she heard Martin chuckle nervously, biting down on his bottom lip, and made haste to catch her breath, and bat her eyelashes at him, lowering her arm and laying her head on the crook of her elbow, "But if the location's your only issue, then you better start looking for your own place, and quickly."
"Yeah – hold on." Martin's pleasant chuckle was halted as he jolted slightly, and his eyes darted this way and that, as if the walls might have been listening, "Are you saying that that's actually an option? The, uh, th-the video…"
"Only if you're nice to me." Deborah purred salaciously, letting her tongue dart out to wet her lips; she was well aware that now wasn't the best time to flirt, as absolutely nothing would happen and she'd just make herself more miserable, but she couldn't help needing to see Martin blush and try to flirt back.
"I'm always nice to you." Martin murmured, his image shimmering slightly as he pulled him laptop closer to his face, which was almost glowing with the small, yet beautiful smile that adorned his lips.
At that, a rush of warmth filled her chest, and Deborah couldn't help but falter with as she blinked slowly at him, thrown from the room and back to every time they had swapped that particular mantra; remembering every time that those words had left Martin's lips, and it was so many times, felt like having her breath stolen from her lungs, so perfect that she could have cried for every time she had laughed them away.
"Yes…" Deborah sighed warmly, her heart flung once again through a loop by how much she missed him, how much she longed to have that perfect, wonderful man in her arms, instead of flat and on the other side of a computer screen, "I love you so much."
"I love you too." Martin replied, softly, as if he were keeping a secret, kept just for the two of them; how she could have ever doubted the sincerity that seeped from his every feature was a mystery, one that Deborah would never forgive herself for, "I miss you."
But what was done was done, and there would be no going back; it could have been worse. In another world, Deborah might have never seen Martin again; but here and now, they could talk, and when Martin got a break, in a month or two, they could be together for a day or two.
Now, it was important that she didn't let Martin go to sleep; he might have been tired, and so was she, but they would keel over mid-conversation if it meant that Deborah could steal as many seconds of his time as possible.
"Would you like to hear a secret." Deborah asked, deliberately swallowing her sentimental and soppy demeanour and instead grinning, shoving her hair behind her shoulders so that she could lean in a little closer to the laptop screen, "One that you can't tell Herc, because it will inevitably trickle back to Carolyn?"
"Well, I would now." Martin exclaimed, the corners of his lips curling upwards as his eyebrows knitted, and his picture wobbled from side to side, jostled by his movements; of course, now that he wasn't responsible for her behaviour, Martin was interested in her scheming. She had known that his fussing was all for the job.
"All the jobs that MJN's got in the next month…" Deborah began, lifting her hand to gesture dramatically, opening her palm to the world as she smirked; Martin leaned even closer to his computer, eagerly clinging to her words, so she gave in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "They're my doing. I asked my brother to use us for transport with his company."
"So you called in a favour?" Martin asked, the bridge of his nose crinkling as he stifled another yawn; it was nice to be able to share something, as if they were still together in body as well as in spirit.
"More or less." Deborah replied coyly, laying her head down on her pillow, and dragging her laptop closer, curling her arm around the back of it until she could rest it against her chest.
"You're right, she'll hate that, even if it does keep you afloat." Martin remarked, rolling his eyes when Deborah only smiled and shrugged; it wasn't her responsibility to feel guilty for doing something good out of the most charitable corners of her heart.
"Well, Carolyn may be waiting for the end, but I'm going to make sure we never get there." Deborah murmured determinedly, inhaling deeply and feeling as if her blood was filled with a renewed energy; this was the first time that she had worded that desire, or acknowledged that she needed MJN outside of the safety of her own mind, and somehow, it made it more real.
Maybe it was the lifelong belief that Deborah Richardson could do anything, or perhaps it was the way that Martin was looking at her, with a smug little smile on his lips and an odd light in his eyes.
"Yes, that's um, yes." Martin replied, clearing his throat and running his hand over the lower half of his face, huffing through his nose and shaking his head; then he looked directly back at the camera, and Deborah felt the familiar flittering in her stomach, "I've never been prouder."
"Really?" Deborah inquired innocently, raising her eyebrows; Martin? Proud? Now that was a strange thought.
"Yes." Martin stated matter-of-factly, nodding and pressing his lips together as Deborah quirked her eyebrows and glanced away; when she glanced back, feeling that she might be able to cope with his inspection, Martin had apparently decided that that was enough, and had plastered on a calm and collected façade, saying stoicly, "Now, tell me how Verity is."
"Gladly." Deborah replied, glad for the respite; getting emotional was far too painful after a while, but there was no reason that they couldn't talk and look at each other, and just be pleased with the time that they could snatch.
This would get easier…eventually.
Still not sure about this one, but I think it'll lead nicely into what I've got planned for next time. I hope you all like it.