Hello! I won't say much, just enjoy the chapter
Chapter 48
She may not have had to be in work until noon, but Deborah was still managing to lag when it came to leaving the house; now that it was just her there to fly and sort out the paperwork, it was necessary that Deborah made it to the airfield on time and pulled her weight, but despite her best efforts, two weeks after Martin's departure, she still couldn't manage it.
The weather was pleasant, the sun was shining faintly through the windows, leaving dappled images where she hadn't washed away the dust and cobwebs, and Deborah had been awake since the chime of her clock, pottering around in her pyjamas, watching the news with a bowl of cereals in her lap. Deborah had even skimmed through her emails and taken the required actions for those that were of importance, which was quite a feat all things considered.
It was still jarring, knowing that she couldn't simply call Martin and have him come over, or prepare a large breakfast and let the ambling chatter wash over her; as much as Deborah tried, she couldn't quite muster more than a faint and fleeting acceptance of life as it was, making lazy mornings…lazy, and altogether unsatisfying, no matter how lovely the light breeze the danced through the open window might have been on her bare feet.
Now it was half past eleven, and Deborah was only just in her uniform, hopping to get her shoes on as she tied plucked the post from where it lay on the mat, only to stick it between her teeth to make it easier to hurry back to the kitchen where she had left her flight-bag, open with its contents strewn across the table. Perhaps she should have paid attention when Martin had tried to train her up and secure some sort of scheduling; there would be less scrambling around at the very least.
At this rate she'd barely make it to the airfield on time; hopefully the client wouldn't either, which was a real possibility due to the awful habit Carolyn had of lying about what time their flights were just so that she could have everyone in the porta-cabin early.
Deborah was just slipping on her coat, finally having rifled through the bank statements that she had carried around in her mouth before remembering that she had them, flight-beg zipped and filled with everything she needed, reaching out to grasp the door handle and sending silent thanks to the universe for letting her leave without any more fuss, when the phone rang.
Damn, Deborah cursed inwardly as she dropped her bag onto the floor beside the door and marched back across the sitting room to where she had conveniently forgotten her mobile; at least something good had come out of what she could only consider a very rude disruption of her exit. Her distemper disappeared immediately however, replaced by a curious longing, when she saw the name on the little flashing screen, and she cut off the shrill ringing to press the device to her ear.
"Hello Martin." Deborah drawled pleasantly, forcing herself to sound cheerful and chirpy despite the rush she was in; it didn't take too much effort, as even with the time limit, she was prepared to risk being late for the sake of hearing Martin's voice, "I wasn't expecting you to call until later."
"No, I'm calling now-" Martin replied hastily, his voice crackling down the line; Deborah knew before he continued that something wasn't quite right, and a prickle of trepidation had her taking a step back to lower herself into the sofa, her free hand clenching imperceptibly around the tatty threaded arms, "oh, wait, hold on, I-I've got to – here, talk to Herc-"
"Martin what are you doing?" Deborah demanded, the dip between her eyebrows pinching as she glared at the edge of the coffee table, doing her best to picture Martin scrambling with the phone; she wasn't quick enough though, as his voice was replaced by a frantic clunking, as if the phone were being hurled across the room, and Martin was gone.
"Sorry Deborah, he's scrambled away already." Herc's voice filtered into her ear, wry and unconcerned, but genuinely apologetic; he was the last person that Deborah wanted to talk to, but she was too morbidly intrigued to feel much more than a flicker of disdain that it was him and not Martin that she could hear.
"What's he doing?" Deborah asked tautly, remembering to be polite regardless of the uncomfortable worry that was clenching at her lungs, threatening to curl in on itself; for once, she was completely at a loss as to what was going on, and that wasn't a pleasant circumstance at all, especially when she was too far away to do anything.
"If I'm honest, I'm not entirely sure." Herc replied, the wince in his tone almost tangible; that wasn't helpful, or encouraging, and it did nothing to reassure Deborah as to Martin's safety…although Herc was trustworthy enough to tell her if things were truly bad, she supposed.
"Well then why is he calling?" Deborah sighed, slumping back into the sofa's cushions and closing her eyes as she pinched her fingers at the bridge of her nose, pressing the heel of her palm over her closed lids; helpless confusion wasn't something that she really enjoyed experiencing, especially when there were a million other things to be doing that morning, "Is he alright?"
"Yes, Martin's fine." Herc assured her; the carelessness in his voice made Deborah want to throttle him for not understanding her fear, but perhaps that was simply the ingrained distaste for the man that she still couldn't quite shake, despite all of her efforts for Carolyn's sake, "Other than that, I've been sworn to secrecy."
"Herc – is Martin in trouble, or is this some sort of a surprise?" Deborah asked through gritted teeth, letting her hand fall to her side and her eyes open so that she could scowl full force at someone who would never see it, "Don't give me your smarm, because I'm not in the mood."
"I understand, Deborah, I really do." Herc remarked unhelpfully; she didn't want his sympathy, but she let him finish for the sake of pouting and wondering bitterly what was so important that Martin had called her then shafted her, "There is nothing wrong with Martin, but…I suppose it might be something of a surprise."
"You don't sound too sure about that." Deborah replied airily, comforted at least fractionally by the lack of true concern in Herc's tone; that didn't mean that she would like whatever it was that Martin was fussing over, but at least she didn't have to worry too much, as she checked her watch and grimaced at how late she was going to be because of this.
"Oh no, you'll be surprised, but I don't think it's the sort of surprise that you're expecting." Herc drawled, evidently taking a degree of pleasure from teasing her; even from afar, he was still a git of monumental proportions, albeit a well-meaning one, "But like I said, I've sworn an oath and can't say a word more."
"Fine…" Deborah groaned, slumping and letting the tension leave her body despite keeping the phone pressed to her ear; even though she would be late, the nagging prickle in her guts wouldn't let her put the phone down until Martin had returned to assure her of his safety himself, so Deborah did what was societally appropriate, and tried to engage Herc in a way that wasn't needlessly hostile given everything he had done for Martin in the past few weeks, "Have you spoken to Carolyn recently?"
"Only briefly, and she was very curt with me." Herc replied, the muted frivolity in his voice replaced with genuine concern; that wasn't good at all, and Deborah immediately felt guilty for bringing it up when she knew that things had been off with Carolyn lately, "She hasn't said anything to you has she?"
"No, but she's been overly cheerful, which is a bad sign." Deborah told him honestly, pursing her lips as she sat forwards, restlessly propping her elbows on her knees, he chin between her hands while one continued to press the phone to her ear, "Even Arthur's starting to avoid all of the 'love'."
"I'm not sure how to get her back on side when I'm all the way in Switzerland." Herc bemoaned, in such a way that Deborah had to bite her tongue to stop herself from reacting to the sinking sensation in her chest; damn her newly sympathetic demeanour to hell, and then all the way back, for making her feel so responsible for upsetting those around her.
"As much as your love life thrills me Herc, I'm only going to give you one bit of advice, and then I'm never going to interfere ever again." Deborah sighed, adopting a no nonsense, distanced tone so as not to make him think that she cared; there was only so much misery that she could endure, and Herc's superior, smarm was too much by far, "It's a lot more difficult for her to play aloof when to do so Carolyn has to make the effort to call; if you called her, or perhaps found yourself in the same area, then there would be no problem at all."
"So she's not gone off me in my absence then?" Herc asked cautiously, and Deborah didn't bother trying not to roll her eyes; for someone who thought that they were the best thing to happen to the world, Herc sure could be an overly trusting push-over. It was infuriating that he wasn't hateful enough for Deborah to do anything other than tell him the complete and utter truth, and hope that he understood.
"Dear lord no." Deborah groaned, praying that there would be no more of this conversation; she would take needlessly worrying over this torture, "I'm not saying anything more than that, because the thought is almost detestable."
"Well, thank you for your generosity nonetheless." Herc retorted, in that way he had that made it sound as if he were pandering to a lesser being; Deborah was about to say something sarcastic, had it on the tip of her tongue, but was cut off by a rush of fluttering distraction as Herc's voice drifted further from the receiver, "Oh, here he is – Martin."
Deborah tensed as she waited for the clattering in her ear of cease, and her free hand wandered to grip at her other elbow, nails digging into her sleeves as she anticipated any kind of emotional turmoil in Martin's voice; thankfully, it never came.
"Deborah!" Martin exclaimed on the other end of the phone, like a drowning man gasping his first lungful of air; there was small relief in hearing no trace of wound nor upset, but Deborah still couldn't let him get away with prevarication, "Hi, sorry, I-I had to go and - had to…um, other things. But I'm here now-"
"Are you okay?" Deborah inquired calmly, pushing a hand through her hair, and taking a deep breath ready to stop Martin in his tracks if he tried to stutter his way out of an explanation; she would be patient, but she wouldn't stand for his usual avoidance, "You don't normally call this early in the day."
"Yes, yes, I'm good." Martin replied hastily, honestly, Deborah imagined; so not avoiding the question then, and therefore not deserving of the grilling that she could have inflicted upon him.
"Just wanted a chat then?" Deborah asked pleasantly, shifting on the sofa and sitting back, folding one leg over the other to try and get comfortable and alleviate the anxiousness that had been gnawing at her stomach from the moment she had seen his name on her phone.
"Um, not as such." Martin replied sheepishly, probably drawing his bottom lip through his teeth and flushing with embarrassment; a flicker of affectionate hope that Deborah hadn't even realised was there was extinguished by a lull of disappointment, "I, um, this isn't a long chat, I just needed to let you know before I forgot."
"So we're still doing the long chat later?" Deborah clarified, ignoring for a moment the promise of news; even two weeks on, she was still held captive by the miserable ache that clung to every sentimental string of intimacy that she could snatch from afar, "I'm missing your face."
"Yes, we're still chatting later." Martin said quickly; if she wasn't mistaken, he was rushing around just like she had been, the little shit, keeping her waiting while he got himself ready for work, "I-I miss your face too."
"Good." Deborah replied shortly, now confident in the knowledge that Martin was fine, and that he was just worrying her for nothing; she glanced at her watch again, wary of how long it would take her to get to the airfield on time, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"
"Oh, uh, just that I…I got a weekend off, this weekend so-" Martin began to explain matter-of-factly, his voice moving near and far among the clacking that filled Deborah's ears; eyes narrowing in confusion as she stared aimlessly across her sitting room, she cut him off.
"Really?" Deborah interrupted, having to press the cool plastic of her phone against her ear to hear him properly as he cursed under his breath, following a small thud as if he were tripping; of all the news Martin could have delivered, that had never crossed her mind, making it difficult to feel the rush of thrill that she knew she should have been experiencing, "You've only been there two weeks."
"I know, but I managed to, t-to negotiate a weekend off, so I'm coming home, not tomorrow, because tomorrow's Friday, b-but I'll be back in England on Saturday morning." Martin reeled all of this off at high speed, running out of breath as he concluded; something about his declaration didn't sit quite right, but Deborah made a conscious decision to swallow that back and embrace the flittering warmth that alighted in her chest.
"Oh…Martin, that's lovely, darling, it really is." Deborah sighed softly, relishing that single moment of fondness; then the rational side of her mind took its rightful place, and she carried on encouragingly, "But wouldn't you rather spend your first weekend off getting accustomed to your new surroundings? I can wait if you'd rather-"
"No, I've already booked the flights." Martin interjected, in a tone that begged no argument; there really wasn't a way to argue with that kind of certainty, not that Deborah had enough willpower to truly want to, especially as she listened to Martin state that, "I want to come back and see you."
"Well, I-" Deborah was about to say something, she wasn't sure what, something romantic and self-sacrificial; except, the clock in the kitchen chimed like it did when the hour arrived, and her need to get out of the house won over her desire to keep talking to him, shutting down her ability to do anything more than accept, "In that case I'll come and meet you at the airport."
"Thank you." Martin exclaimed, sounding relieved, as if he hadn't believed that she could be so easily swayed; Deborah picked at the frayed edge of the sofa as she waited patiently for him to carry on, "I'll give you the exact details tonight, so that you don't have to run around."
"Okay, Darling." Deborah replied with a forced brightness; and yet, she made no effort to end the conversation and get out of the door, finding herself starved of the energy or impulse needed to tear herself away from her phone.
"Okay…" Martin repeated, his voice further away than before; then there was a moment of silence, and more clunking, in which Deborah pressed her lips together and traced her eyes over the edge of the coffee table, before Martin spoke again, "I um, I have to get ready to go to work now. Sorry…"
"Don't be sorry, it's alright." Deborah reassured him with an exaggerated amount of cheer that he must have seen through; this was her out though, she was well aware, and regardless of what she wanted, Deborah had to let go, for her own sake more than anything else, "I'll talk to you later then…I love you."
"I love you too." Martin chirped swiftly; definitely in a hurry then, Deborah mused, imagining him bustling about Herc's small Swiss flat, in his new sparkling uniform, saying into the speaker, "Bu-bye!"
Then the crackling in her ear was replaced by the monotonous dial tone, and Deborah had to act quickly to quench the fleeting shimmer of dejection that rippled through her skin; then she sighed, and inhaled again, and was ready to get up, get in the car, and start coming up with excuses for why she was so late.
If the worst happened, Deborah was now entirely prepared to get Martin back on the phone and have him endure Carolyn's wrath on her behalf.
oOoOoOo
The passenger was late, to Deborah's immense relief, though she was careful not to show it as she had slipped into the porta-cabin and dropped behind her desk to check over the paperwork; the only problem was that Carolyn had been so preoccupied scolding her, that the both of them had forgotten that flight plans needed to be filled in, or planes prepared.
Now they were all just sitting around the porta-cabin, Deborah sprawled out in the sofa, her head propped up on one arm, her feet crossed at the ankle atop the other, while Carolyn sat behind Deborah's desk and Arthur rested idly on his wheelie chair, feet up on the overturned wastepaper basket that he had commandeered.
"So Martin's coming back to visit us on Saturday, and he'll get here in the morning?" Arthur asked slowly, repeating a variation of the same question that he must have asked at least twice already; he was watching Deborah with wide and eager eyes, having even paused in his swaying to await her answer.
"That's what he said." Deborah replied wearily, sparing him only a glance before she turned her attention back to the edge of her thumb, where a flake of dry skin was enough to divert all of her attention into, to create a peaceful void away from the flurry of disconcerting emotions that were whirling through her mind.
It was enough to give her a headache; the tickling joy that had first spread throughout her pores had slowly but surely made way to a bout of nerves, of anxieties and unpleasant churning doubts at the idea of seeing Martin again so soon. What if she wasn't prepared? What if he changed his mind? What if absence didn't make the heart grow?
Too much to worry about, when all Deborah wanted to do was be happy to fall back into his arms; she couldn't even do that right.
"So, realistically, I could throw a party on the airfield, and we could all come and have lunch and just all hang out together on Saturday, like a surprise party?" Arthur inquired, with the air of a businessman, gesticulating decidedly with his expression pinched in thought; if only she could have been as pleased at the idea of Martin's return as he was, Deborah could have silenced the nattering in the back of her mind.
"I'm not sure-" Deborah started wanly, but she never got to even complete the thought.
"Arthur, as lovely an idea as that is, I think that Martin might have slightly more important things on his mind when he comes back." Carolyn interjected from her perch, apparently having been listening to the entire conversation; she looked pointedly at Deborah, and met her gaze long enough to get her message across, "I imagine he and Deborah would prefer to spend Saturday unburdened by surprise parties."
Of course, Deborah thought dourly, as she smiled weakly across the room at her employer, that was what she should have been dwelling on; she shouldn't be fretting, she should have been planning a romantic evening, anticipating the heated and passionate reunion.
"Oh…" Arthur sighed, nodding, his posture sagging slightly in disappointment; then his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows came together, and Deborah could have laughed at how quickly his expression grew wide in realisation, "oh…"
"Thank you, Carolyn." Deborah remarked loudly and clearly, stopping Arthur before he could say anything more, and hoisting herself into more of a sitting position, until she could feel the arm of the sofa press against her lower back; it would be nice to have everyone back together, and to pretend for a while that nothing had changed, "But there's no reason that we couldn't all get together on Sunday, if you wanted to Arthur."
"Ooh, Sunday's better." Arthur replied sagely, presumably already planning some sort of extraordinary event; Deborah supposed that it was nice to have someone make the effort, as she didn't think she had the emotional energy to manage more than a light breakfast, at a push, "Or, or we could go to one of those restaurants that do special dinners on Sundays for parties and things."
"Anything would be better than poisoning Martin before he has to go back to work." Carolyn muttered, her brow quirking at that statement; she plastered on a smile and looked between the two of them, with a cheer that she rarely possessed, "I don't see why we couldn't all chip in and make it a sort of celebratory event."
"Yes, that might be a good idea." Deborah noted gratefully, taking care to smile in return, and not simply slide back down into the sofa; any other day and she might have rebelled at the apparent show of good will, out of pride or suspicion, but now, she couldn't bear the idea of anything but peace until her emotions settled, "Thank you, I'll ask him about it and let you know tonight; it's a wonderful idea Arthur…thank you."
"No worries." Arthur beamed, launching out of his seat and striding to sit behind what had been Martin's desk, retrieving Deborah's computer from where it sat untouched at Carolyn's elbow, and tapping away at the keys; probably to set his plan in motion before anyone could change their mind, "It's brilliant that we all get to be back together so soon."
"That it is." Deborah sighed, and allowed herself to settle back, pressing her hands over her eyes; it was remarkable how tired emotional turmoil could make one feel. She should have remembered that, but it came as a surprise nonetheless.
"You don't seem as pleased as you should, Deborah." Carolyn remarked, an unusual edge of concern lacing her tone; Deborah didn't give her the benefit of looking at her, instead dropping her hands to fold across her waist, as the other woman asked, "Is Martin alright?"
"Yes, he's, um…he's doing well." Deborah replied wanly, unable to come up with a suitable lie; not that there would have been one appropriate…or necessary, given that as far as she knew, everything really was fine, "I haven't heard any complaints."
"Or much of anything?" Carolyn concluded for her, and when Deborah spared her a glance, it was to see that she was being skewered with a demanding yet intriguing glare and a decidedly cocked eyebrow; she never should have been allowed to learn how to read between the lines of Deborah's prevarications.
"No." Deborah answered honestly, pouting her lips as she stared back across the room, "How do you-"
"I employed him for five years, I know what the ridiculous man is like." Carolyn retorted, scoffing and rolling her eyes at what must have been a myriad of memories; then her face seemed to soften, though Deborah must have been imagining it, "Just as I know what you're like after nearly twelve years; are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm…" Deborah could have lied, but she found that for once she didn't want to; there was hardly any point, now, with the way that things were, "I wasn't expecting to see him so soon. I haven't yet had time to adjust to having to let him go when it's over."
"That's okay though, because even when he goes away, Martin'll still come back." Arthur interjected, oblivious to the misery that was clogging Deborah's sinuses and putting a dampener on everything that she surveyed, as he barely even lifted his eyes from the computer screen, "He promised."
"Yes, that he did." Deborah replied, forcing herself not to choke on the sudden rush of emotion that caught her off guard; no, not now, not today, she could wallow another time, Deborah told herself as she sat forwards without warning and clapped her palms on her knees, "Now…was I supposed to be doing something with the plane today?"
"We're popping across to Belfast to pick up an editor for that modelling agency that hired us." Carolyn answered, letting the subject drop in a show of sympathy that Deborah greatly appreciated, "Lord knows how they found us."
"Ah yes, the modelling agency." Deborah repeated, plastering on a smirk so as not to raise any suspicions that hadn't already been raised in regards to her brother's as yet undiscovered favour; she rose to her feet and made her way over to the desks, reasserting the mood needed for a successful flight, "I suppose I should make a start on the paperwork."
oOoOoOo
It was far too early on a Saturday morning to be awake, and yet Deborah wasn't simply awake; she was wrapped up in jeans and Martin's old fleece, wide awake and standing patiently in the already bustling airport, waiting for Martin to appear among the crowd, his flight having arrived recently, barely late at all.
She had managed to move past the dread that had been eating away at her from the inside, and now Deborah could only lay claim to a nervous tickle that rippled through her veins and made every unoccupied space inside of her flutter in anticipation of Martin; a tangible, real, Martin that she could hold onto and breathe in.
Time didn't quite seem to me moving in the right direction, but just as Deborah was about to glance down at her watch, Martin appeared between the many people milling around, ginger hair ruffled from his hours on the plane, and bags tugging at his coat making it look larger than it actually was; none of that struck her nearly as much as the wide smile that stretched across his red cheeks, as Martin's eyes fell on her, and he hurried to meet her, oblivious to how clumsy the effort made him appear.
"Deborah!" Martin exclaimed, and before Deborah could do more than take a step or two, she was barrelled into and struggling to get her arms around Martin's shoulders as he wrapped himself around her, pulling at her waist and back until they were pressed together, his bags thudding as they hit the floor; she was flooded by a rush of affection that stole her breath, as Martin's lips pecked over and over across her cheeks, and he held her close, "Oh, god, wow, h-hello."
"Hmm, hello, Martin." Deborah murmured, leaning back a fraction so that she could curl her hands around his cheeks and hold him where she could run her eyes over his face; then her resolve broke, and she lurched forwards to bring Martin back into a tight embrace, just a hug with their heads tucked together and arms squeezing tightly, "Oh, come here."
"I missed you, I love you, I love you so much, god I missed you." Martin was muttering constantly as his fingers carded through her hair, and he inhaled deeply; Deborah couldn't blame him, but at this rate they would never get a proper sentence between them before he had to leave again.
"Martin…" Deborah sighed, as she shifted her hands to lie across his shoulders, and pushed ever so slightly, placing a few inches of space between them; then, as Martin was smiling at her, and she could have fallen into the pit that was the affection that he was showing, her eyes fell on the pile of his bags, and Deborah was struck by a pang of suspicion, "Martin?"
"Yeah?" Martin replied sniffling slightly with the bout of emotion that he was choking on, as he leaned back, allowing Deborah the room needed to take a step back and fold her arms together; he looked confused as she narrowed her eyes and peered at the baggage around his feet.
"I thought you said you were only coming back for the weekend." Deborah remarked slowly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she tried to figure out what was going on; the way that Martin rocked anxiously on his heels, and dug his hands into his pockets didn't do anything to dampen the sour itch of bewilderment on the tip of her tongue, "Why does it look like those are all of the bags that you took with you in the first place?"
Martin didn't answer straight away, and Deborah waited for him to finish biting on his bottom lip and pointedly avoiding her gaze, one eyebrow quirked and held judgementally for him to see; she didn't know what he was up to, but that expression on his face, it was never good.
"Because…they are all of my bags that I took with me in the first place." Martin explained sheepishly, meeting her eyes for only a second before he flushed a darker shade of rad and extracted one hand from his pocket to run across the back of his neck; he was hiding something, that much was for sure.
"Why? Martin, what's going on?" Deborah demanded quietly, swallowing back what might have been a lump of genuine fear for him; there was an inkling, a little nagging voice in her head, but she couldn't decipher what it was saying as it seemed to hit a wall each time she tried, "What aren't you telling me?"
"Right, okay…" Martin stated nervously, raising both of his hands into the air as if to placate her for a blow yet to come, eyes darting across her face, "Deborah, you've got to promise not to shout, or argue, or anything that-"
"Martin." Deborah said through gritted teeth, a sure fire way to get him to talk, as she pinched the material at her elbows between her fingers to try and keep herself steady and collected; something wasn't quite right, and she wasn't going to let him get away with hiding it from her.
"I quit my job at Swiss Air." Martin blurted suddenly, clamping his mouth shut once the words met the air, and leaving behind what felt like a frozen void in the air around them; if anything, he seemed to tense and seize up, as if afraid of what would happen now that the truth was a reality.
"You did what?" Deborah demanded shrilly, unable to quite believe what she had just heard; her eyes widened in shock, and she didn't think that she could make a move towards Martin as her brain seemed to be buffering, trying to catch up with a reality that couldn't possibly be real.
Why…what…why? No, Martin couldn't be that stupid – there was no way that he would do something so ridiculous, and reckless, and - who was she kidding, Martin could do anything that he put his mind to.
"I quit." Martin replied curtly, in his 'I am the captain' voice; he even went so far as to lift his chin a notch and square his shoulders, and Deborah could do nothing but gape open mouthed and wait for some sort of explanation that he just didn't give, "I don't work there anymore, and now that all my things are here, I don't live in Switzerland anymore."
"But you were only there for two weeks!" Deborah exclaimed, curbing the rise of her voice as she remembered where they were, and noticed the path that other members of the public were making around them; she unravelled her arms enough that she could splay her palms and make helpless motions in the air between the two of them, "What – I don't – why would you do that?"
"Because I wanted to-" Martin started to explain, sighing with resignation and letting his head loll to the side, as if the conversation were some great effort and waste of his time; that alone was enough to make the trepidation in Deborah's guts vanish, and a surge of irritable disbelief alight.
"What the hell was going through your head Martin?" Deborah demanded furiously; she shook her head, switching her train of thought in a split second and raising her hand to point shakily at him, still not moving any closer in case she found herself overcome with "You can't just – you get back there, and you-"
"I can't." Martin cut her off, his voice rising ever so slightly, enough to make Deborah fall silent and drop her hand; his jaw was jutting the way it did when he was being stubborn, and there was no doubt about whether he had made up his mind, "I quit. There is no going back."
"But-" Deborah tried to argue, one last ditch effort, ignoring how her bottom lip trembled because this wasn't right; this wasn't how things were, Martin was supposed to go and get a better life of his own, not trap himself in Fitton of all places.
"No buts." Martin interrupted sternly; she could have carried on, but instead, Deborah pursed her lips and pulled her arms tightly around her chest, but nodded for Martin to continue, which he did after inhaling deeply, as if about to plunge into an ocean of treachery, "Deborah, I am a grown adult, and what's done is done. I'm not going back, and you can either accept that and listen to me, or you can throw a tantrum and I can stay in a hotel until you're ready to listen."
"I don't throw tantrums." Deborah muttered petulantly, because she couldn't think of a single other thing to say over the bubbling turmoil that swelled in her chest, making her unsure of what she was supposed to do beyond glaring at Martin's bags as if they were responsible for everything.
"There's always a first time for everything." Martin retorted dryly, and there was something in his tone, something almost sad, that made Deborah blink hard, and swallow back her pride to lift her eyes and meet his; the wide smile that had lit up his face was gone, replaced by a faint frown.
He looked sad, and it didn't take much for Deborah to understand why; she should have been happy, thrilled to see Martin, should have exulted that they were back together. That was obviously what he had been expecting…and why shouldn't he? Deborah knew that there was a flicker, an infinitesimal ray of light trying to break through her confusion and make her leap up and throw her arms around him, to be glad that the man she loved was home at last.
But Martin wasn't supposed to be home; life away from her was so much better for him. How Martin could have willingly abandoned that was beyond her, and Deborah couldn't allow herself to celebrate for even a moment when it felt like Martin had given up the best thing to ever happen to him, and she was the cause.
"Martin…I don't understand what you think you're doing." Deborah said finally, as calmly as she could as she gazed imploringly into his eyes, fighting the twitching temptation to reach out and touch him where he stood, "I thought you liked your job, I thought it was the best thing to happen to you."
"It was a good job, but I went, and I experienced two weeks of it, I tried it out, and I decided that I didn't want it anymore." Martin explained, shrugging lopsidedly and making an odd, reluctant grimace with his mouth; his expression softened as he smiled, and stepped a little closer, "I'd rather be here, with you."
"Martin, this is ridiculous." Deborah retorted hastily, hands in the air again, taking a step back as Martin moved towards her, deliberately maintaining the space in case proximity made her weak; Martin may have wanted to just carry on, but there was no way she was letting him brush this under the carpet never to revisit the matter again, she couldn't live like that again, not with the constant not talking, "That was your dream job, it was everything you've ever wanted. You have just given up your dream, how could you-"
"No, Deborah-" Martin insisted, shaking his head and biting down on his bottom lip, extending his arms helplessly into the air either side of him; the movement seemed to allow him to realise that there were still people around him, and the jittering died down immediately as he visibly cowed, "I mean yes, sort of. But no…"
"So flying at a proper airline with pay and the best planes you could get your hands on isn't your dream?" Deborah drawled sardonically, quirking an eyebrow at him; she knew Martin, and no matter how much she would like everything to be tickety-boo and for them to go home and live out their lives, that wasn't the way the world worked, "Stop me if I'm wrong, but that's not the Martin that I've spent the last five years with."
"No, no it's not." Martin agreed calmly, nodding sagely, his eyes filled with something indecipherable that made Deborah stay quiet, no matter how jarring what he was saying might have been, "But you know what Deborah? The Martin that you've spent the last five years with is an idiot, and it took this whole, th-this whole farce, for me to see that."
A renewed determination seemed to fill out Martin's form, rejuvenating his sagging limbs and the set of his jaw, making his cheeks burn as he gestured furiously, growing irritable with himself.
"I don't understand." Deborah sighed, shaking her head and moving unconsciously closer; she couldn't help the prickle of affectionate denial at the sound of Martin putting himself down, hating it, and unable to shake the feeling that it was partly her fault that he had gone from a man who saw none of his faults, to one that deprecated ones that barely existed.
"I've spent the last two weeks sorting out my priorities, because they have been so…stupid, and ridiculous, since – since before we even met!" Martin exclaimed, breaking off and hissing through his teeth as if he couldn't contain his annoyance with himself; the sound stirred up that impulse in Deborah's chest to defend him, even though his words were making her brain stutter, actually making it turn, "And I didn't even realise that until I was leaving!"
"You were taking the biggest opportunity of your life." Deborah retorted quickly, forcing a faint smile as she lifted her hand to trace the back of her knuckles against Martin's; not that this had any effect, as he simply shook his head and carried on unimpeded.
"I was choosing a job over you!" Martin insisted, his expression strained as if the idea physically pained him, "What kind of idiot lets his girlfriend think that she's not important as his job! And I've been like that for years of my life, and I never saw it!"
"Martin, you love being a pilot." Deborah remarked with a forced encouragement; she wanted to place her hands soothingly on his arms and hold him still, to stop the almost pacing that his rocking suggested, but she couldn't make herself; everything he was saying made her lungs feel like they might explode with the ferocity of the fluttering within their walls, but that didn't change facts.
"But it's just a job, Deborah." Martin groaned, tipping his head forwards and holding her gaze imploringly, silently begging her to understand, but refusing to move any closer, "There will always be other jobs, even if they're not as good. There will never be another opportunity to have what I have with you."
"This job could have given you everything you ever wanted." Deborah repeated the words that she must have said a thousand times, or perhaps simply to herself, to convince herself that it was true.
"No, it could have given me a career." Martin stated confidently, and just like that he seemed to still, only his expression faltering as he his jaw trembled and his eyes moved timidly over Deborah's face, "But it can't give me a life. Flying is great, and I love it, and I've devoted everything to it, but you know what?" he paused, and inhaled sharply, making Deborah ache to hear what he was about to say, even though she knew that she would regret it, "I only just realised that for all of that, it can't give me a life – i-it can't get me love, o-or marriage, o-or a family, o-or a house, or anything of the things that actually matter!" Martin scoffed, and for a moment, a bitter smile flickered across his lips, "I'd rather have all of that and be poor, than fly the best planes and be lonely."
All of a sudden the tight knot in her guts disappeared, and Deborah felt like she had been swept off of her feet and dropped into a vast ocean; a glittering ocean, but an ocean capable of drowning her nonetheless. Oh…oh…oh Martin…
"Y-you…you want all of those things?" Deborah asked, her voice no more than a breath and she blinked wide eyed up at Martin, who was biting his lip nervously, as if he might have miss-stepped; her arms curled protectively around her chest, and one hand fluttered over her heart, "You never told me anything like that."
"Because I'm an idiot, that's why." Martin replied, a small, imperceptibly smile creeping onto his lips as he scoffed at himself and sniffed back a bout of nervous stammering; his hand rose to rub anxiously at the back of his neck, but Deborah couldn't just let go like he did.
"No, but Martin…you want that…with me?" Deborah asked again, barely daring to hope; people didn't want that with her, not her past husbands, not the man she actually had a child with, and Martin had never talked about an actual future, just vague suggestions of long term relations.
But damn, did she want that so much it felt like her heart may have been torn from her chest if she had heard wrong.
"Yeah…n-not now!" Martin told her, with a soft smile on his face and a light in his eyes; then his expression widened the way it did when he thought he had said something awful (as he inevitably did with every other woman he met), and his arms flew up in surrender, "I mean – not now, but, b-but later…I want to marry you, one day…and I want to have kids with you, and live somewhere together, and, a-and just know that you're there…of course I want that."
"W-why did you never tell me that?" Deborah asked, once more, unable to quite accept the shining offering that was shimmering just there, within arm's reach; breaking down and immersing herself in the raging heat that threatened to overflow from her chest felt like an unachievable feat, and she held her breath as she scanned Martin's face.
"Because I…I don't know…I…I guess it's just my, uh, my 'bloody pride' getting in the way." Martin answered, shrugging helplessly; he shoved his hands into his pocket, and seemed to lean into her space, as she leaned into his, "I just…we would never have split up if I'd let you know that I felt that way, would we?"
"No, probably not." Deborah remarked, swallowing roughly and releasing a sort of truncated laugh as she pulled her arms against her; the iron ring around her lungs faded, and with the air that she could now breathe came a wash of realisation, that this was actually happening, that Martin was back and not leaving, and that what he had just said might actually be true.
And she had never felt so wrong-footed in her life.
"D-do you want that?" Martin inquired quietly, almost as if he were afraid of the answer as he ducked his head down, and met her eyes with his own, watery blue ones; all that Deborah could see there was complete and utter honesty, and none of the devious or prissy edge that she had learned to expect and love.
"Yeah…." Deborah laughed, nodding hastily and pressing her lips together and fought against the sudden rush of heat, throughout her every pore, that made her head spin and her eyes sting, "Yeah, I do. One day…"
Then Deborah couldn't hold herself together any longer, and like a dam crumbling under a river of emotion, she felt first her hands, then her chest, then her lips tremble, as she had to inhale sharply with the juddering of her lungs, and her eyes began to water against her will.
"Hey, don't cry, y-you'll make me cry." Martin lurched towards her, and Deborah felt herself get wrapped in his arms as her blurred view of the airport was blocked by the warm, solid wall of his shoulder and chest; she allowed it to happen, the tension fading from her limbs as she fell into the embrace, curling her arms around his back and taking a deep breath to steady herself, never uncollected for too long.
"I'm not crying." Deborah sniffed curtly, blinking hard to force the tears from her eyes; she stayed tucked against Martin, listening to the bob of his throat for only a moment longer, before she leaned back, and ran her eyes from the tips of his red hair to the trembling set of his lips, "Martin…what about when we fight again, because we will, or MJN goes bust, or we end up with no money, or jobs, or anything, and everything just-"
"I don't care." Martin told her, the smile on his face infectious in its nature, glowing as if simply being allowed to hold Deborah meant that everything was better and right in the world, though his hands were still trembling where they skirted her waist, "I'm willing to put up with all of those horrible things, j-just so long as I've got you with me. A-and, if we fight, that's fine, because I-I-I'm not going to let us fall apart again, I-I'll put all of my stubbornness to good use."
"God, you need to stop saying things like that to me." Deborah muttered, shaking her head and wiping the back of her hand across her eyes; she wasn't sure, but she suspected that her lips were beginning to twitch, and the thought of stepping out of Martin's embrace didn't even cross her mind.
Her chest was still heaving, shuddering on the precipice of nervous disbelief and wonderful, incredible acceptance of the fact that Marti was here; he was there for good, and Deborah was too dizzy from the flaming moths that raged in her chest to settle her mind into that reality.
"Is it stopping you being mad at me." Martin inquired coyly, biting down on his bottom lip; she should have slapped him for being so ready to believe that he had won her over, but Deborah resisted.
"No, I'm still mad." Deborah assured him, nodding and narrowing her eyes at him, unable to keep the smirk from her lips; nevertheless, she slipped her arms up and around Martin's shoulders, and shifted until the two of them were pressed more comfortably together.
"But you forgive me?" Martin clarified, his eyebrows rising to his hairline as he adjusted his hold on her; he actually had the audacity to look surprised, as if he hadn't expected her to accept his ridiculous, stupid decision so quickly.
It was a ridiculous, and stupid decision…but Deborah couldn't muster the energy needed to care; she had come to the airport with the intention of letting the two of them fall together, and then not parting until late on Sunday morning, too wrapped up in the aching need to have Martin back.
And now, now that the bewilderment and stunned horror had faded, and Martin had poured his heart out…it was that little bit easier to realise that everything really was going to be okay.
"Oh, come here." Deborah choked, hit once again like a punch to the gut by a surge of terrible, suffocating affection, and without another word of warning, she pulled Martin back into a tight embrace, relishing the stunned little sound that left his mouth and squeezing for all that she could.
oOoOoOo
It still felt like walking through an oddly sharp dream, but with the sky a pale purple outside, and hours of talking past, Deborah found that she could look across her flat, from the kitchen into the sitting room where Martin was sitting back in the corner of her sofa, and feel a pleasant, if unnerving calm settle over her shoulders, like swapping ill-fitting robes for a comfort blanket.
Martin's eyes followed Deborah as she crossed the room and dropped into the sofa, kicking her legs up as the cushions dipped and resting them beside his, so that their ankles crossed; she opened her mouth to speak, then stopped, which gave him the opportunity to say what had been glinting behind his eyes since they had walked through the door.
"I um, I realise that this might be a bit presumptuous, but uh…" Martin started, then drew his bottom lip through his teeth and looked down at his hands where they tangled together on his lap, "I'm sort of homeless right now."
"I know exactly who to blame for that." Deborah remarked wryly, quirking an eyebrow at him; she had decided on the drive back that she wasn't going to give in completely when it came to reminding him what a mistake he was making, but it would have been wrong of her to say no after the fuss she had made over wanting him to move in in the first place; she still did, "I'm sure you can find your way to the spare room."
All of his things were there already, there was really no reason that she could come up with to refuse him the roof over his head.
"Thank you…not, uh…" Martin replied gratefully, nodding hastily; then he paused, and blushed in a way that foreshadowed whatever it was that he was thinking, and asked in a tone of voice that came hand in hand with the more devious of his suggestions, "There's no chance I might be able to, um, t-to sway an upgrade?"
The cheeky bugger, Deborah thought, as Martin's eyes trailed fleetingly from her face to her toes, then back up again, and he cleared his throat awkwardly; she really did love him.
"If you're good." Deborah drawled salaciously, fluttering her eyelashes at him from across the sofa as he shifted suddenly enough to jolt her ankle, somehow leaving their shins resting even more thoroughly against the other.
"Oh, I will be." Martin assured her seriously, nodding with a wide eyed certainty as one of his hands rose to grip the back of the sofa; as nice as his determination was, Deborah knew that if they really were doing this, she had to sort out the things that would cause ruts between them before the chance for either of them to get hurt occurred.
"No matter how sentimental you're feeling, I can't see you wanting to live here without paying rent." Deborah remarked, in as business-like a tone as she could manage; she straightened her back and placed her hands on her knees, "What are you planning to do for money now that you're unemployed?"
"Of course, I'll pay rent." Martin replied, the smile slipping from his face as he sighed and sat forwards, sensing the tone; for a moment, he simply looked down at his hands, then Martin adopted a jaunty tone, as if everything would work itself out in the end, "Well…the van's still there, so I can still run Icarus; all I need to do is call the advertising agency and get the clients back."
"Anything else?" Deborah inquired softly; she could see straight through his forced joviality, and gave in to the pang of sympathy, shuffling forwards on her knees to lay her palm on Martin's own knee, squeezing soothingly.
"Well…" Martin muttered, swallowing hard and clearing his throat and he placed his own hand over Deborah's, knee jolting slightly at the contact, "As I understand it, there's an airline in dire need of an extra pilot, but unable to afford it. Do you think Carolyn would take me back?"
"I'm not sure." Deborah answered honestly, frowning imperceptibly, but never wavering in her comforting; it was hard enough for her to adjust to everything going back to normal, or, better…working out how the rest of the world fit into the equation was a challenge…but one that she was willing to endure for Martin's sake, "We'll just have to argue a good case and hope that she isn't so stubborn as to refuse you. Even then…I don't know how long we'd last."
"How d'you mean?" Martin retorted, the bridge of his nose crinkling in confusion.
"I mean we've been letting things slip for almost a year already." Deborah explained, having already come to terms with the fact that despite her efforts, she couldn't prolong MJN's life indefinitely, "Even with the ability to do the longer flights, we're losing profit, slowly but surely; the company's going to fold sooner or later."
"It doesn't have to." Martin replied immediately, and with that he lurched forwards, sitting cross-legged with his face barely a foot from hers, an odd little glint in his eyes and the pinch of his eyebrows, as he slipped his hands into hers.
"No, but we'd have to start making a profit." Deborah agreed patiently, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with hers, enjoying the solidity of having something to hold; anything was possible hypothetically, it wasn't as if she hadn't already through of every avenue of possibility, but that didn't mean it was achievable.
"Exactly." Martin exclaimed, like a breath of a secret scheme, as the corners of his lips curled upwards with a confidence that normally accompanied grandiose declarations and insistences upon his rank.
"I think your stay abroad might have wiped from your mind quite what type of company MJN is." Deborah remarked wryly, rolling her eyes at his optimism; she should have known that Martin would come home and try to fix everthing.
"No, it hasn't; but it has given me two weeks to get inspired and think about ways to save it." Martin insisted, gripping her hands a little more tightly and shifting on the sofa, making the cushions dip this way and that as he gestured eagerly met her eyes.
"You think we could save MJN?" Deborah inquired, trying not to let her disbelief enter her tone; it wasn't that she didn't have faith in him, but it felt almost like Martin was the only one of them that couldn't feel that nagging sense of conclusion looming on the horizon…well, only one save Arthur, but it was best not to include him.
"I think that I spent years running my own business, even though it's a bit rubbish, and not that impressive." Martin replied confidently, his grin never faltering, as his shoulders squared and he gripped her hands even tighter, leaning in as if to divulge the secrets of the universe itself; the excitement on his face was even enough to stir up a tremor of anticipation in the depths of Deborah's despair, "I know how all of this stuff works, sort of, and I believe that if we put in the effort, it could be done."
"Really…" Deborah remarked, quirking her eyebrows; then she stopped, and really looked at Martin, at how eager he was to the point that he practically vibrated with it, and at where they were despite everything that had happened; just like that a flicker of hope alighted in her chest, and she smirked, and drawled as she leaned in close enough to place a kiss on Martin's lips, "Go on then. Impress me."
Yay! Everything is falling into place, I haven't let you all down like it looked like I would.
This isn't the end, so never fear.
I don't know what the chances are of there being another chapter this week, but I'm going to try my best, and have one out by Friday. After that, unfortunately, I'm going abroad for the week, and won't be able to update. However, I will be writing, so there should hopefully be a nice meaty bit waiting for the Monday after next, or earlier on Sunday if I can get to some wifi.
I apologise in advance for my absence, but will be working hard.