FIC: Nothing Dearer [3/4]
Title: Nothing Dearer
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Cabin Pressure is written by John Finnemore, and is a Pozzitive Production for the BBC! I am, in no way, shape, or form, associated with any of these people.
Summary: "To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter." Douglas loves his daughter, and wants to be a good father. Things don't always work out that way.
Chapter One: The Perfect Present
Chapter Two: The Other Dad
Chapter Three: The Plan
“How was your weekend?” Martin asked, his voice genuinely interested.
“Hm? Oh, it was fine. Lovely.”
“Did Hannah like her present?”
“She seemed to.”
“Oh, good! That's good.” Martin was always so sincerely pleased about these things. “I'm glad things are better. You must be relieved.”
“Mm. Yes. Quite.”
Douglas resolutely did not look at Martin, but he could still clearly picture the younger man's concerned, puzzled frown, could see the question forming on his lips. He was thankfully saved from the impending conversation by the loud entrance of Arthur.
Martin, however, was nothing if not tenacious. He had guessed that something was wrong, and he wasn't going to let Douglas get away with not talking about it. Douglas would have resented it, but he knew that he would do exactly the same if their positions were reversed. Although obviously he would do so far more skilfully.
In the bar of a Pisa motel that night, Douglas finally caved and told Martin about what Hannah had said to Mike. He kept his voice light, his eyes averted, not wanting to let on the depths to which it had hurt him. He had forgotten, however, that Martin was oddly perceptive of people's emotions, so his efforts were all for naught.
“Douglas, I'm so sorry. That's awful.”
“Well, it's understandable, I suppose. She barely sees me, but she lives with him. He does all the dad stuff.”
“That doesn't make it right. You're her dad.”
Douglas grunted. “It seems that Mike is the sort of person who helps with homework, who takes her to the cinema, who imparts world truths on her... it doesn't leave much space for me.”
Martin bit his lip, fidgeting slightly with his glass. “I didn't get on with my dad,” he said finally. “We never saw eye-to-eye on... well, on anything. But he was still my dad, and I still loved him. I realised when I was older how much he did for us. It's not very helpful now but... Hannah will come round, when she's older. Probably. I mean, she's only ten. Ten year olds are easily swayed by cinema tickets and icecream.”
Sometimes, Douglas reflected, Martin wasn't as daft as he appeared. “Possibly. I'd prefer not to wait for years, though.”
“No. Of course. I know it doesn't really help. Maybe you should... do something for her. Something that Mike couldn't do.”
“I think Hannah has already decided that Mike is the best thing to happen to the world since Justin Bieber.”
“Who?”
“I really don't know.”
The two men sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, until Douglas heaved a sigh. “I think I'll go to bed,” he muttered. “See you in the morning, Icarus.”
Martin rolled his eyes at the nickname, but raised his glass in farewell. Douglas left the captain to it and traipsed up to the tiny, cramped room. He changed into pyjamas, brushed his teeth, glared sullenly at his reflection for a few moments, then climbed into the tiny bed.
The mattress was hard, the pillow thin, and a branch was knocking distractedly against the window. Douglas could not get comfortable, no matter what position he lay in, and he spent over an hour twisting this way and that, trying and failing to drop off. Eventually he simply lay staring at the stained ceiling, reflecting miserably on how very wrong things seemed to be. How on earth had he ended up like this? He was the most intelligent, resourceful person he knew, but somehow his life had spiralled rather out of control and he was losing the most important thing in it.
The next morning, he was in a bad temper. He knew he was being irrational, knew that he was being angry for the wrong reasons, but that didn't stop him. It wasn't Carolyn's fault that the airfield had a runway closure. It wasn't Martin's fault that that same airfield forgot to put their flight plan in the system. But he still snarled and snapped at them, making Carolyn furious and Martin peevishly defensive. Overall, it was not a pleasant flight, and Douglas was looking forward to getting home and having some proper sleep.
Except he wasn't looking forward to getting home. Not really. Home was an empty house with too much space and not enough noise. Home was trying to fill his hours so he wouldn't realise how lonely he was. This knowledge did nothing to help his bad mood.
The next day, Douglas arrived at the airfield late, as usual. They were on standby, so he felt no need to haul himself out of bed to arrive in time for a day of sitting around. His bad mood had dissipated somewhat, and he hoped that Martin had stopped sulking with him.
“Morning, Douglas!” Arthur beamed as he entered the portacabin. “I've just boiled the kettle! D'you want tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Arthur.”
“No problem! Mum and Skip were just telling me about our next flight! It sounds really exciting!”
“Does it now?” Douglas drawled, dropping onto the moth-eaten sofa and pulling out his morning's newspaper. “And where, pray tell, are we going?”
“Well, I don't really know. You must know, though.”
“Why would I know? I've only just arrived.”
“But you must! We're flying your daughter, after all!”
Douglas lowered the paper to stare at Arthur's open, beaming face. “My daughter?”
“Yeah! Skipper said we were flying her and her friends somewhere, for a treat! He was talking to Mum about it for ages yesterday!”
Douglas blinked. Martin had been talking to Carolyn about Hannah? They were flying Hannah somewhere? What on earth was going on? Obviously this called for some investigation. He dropped his newspaper onto the sofa and pushed himself to his feet, heading for the cupboard Carolyn called her office, flinging open the door unceremoniously.
Carolyn and Martin glanced up at his entrance. They were hunched over Carolyn's rickety desk, papers laid out in front of them. Carolyn looked stern. “You,” she intoned briskly. “Are late.”
“I am also, apparently, the last to know about a magical mystery tour my daughter is going on.”
Carolyn rolled her eyes. “I told you Arthur would tell him,” Carolyn said to Martin, who shrugged.
“So would you please tell me what is going on?”
“It was my idea,” Martin said, his tone already defensive. “After what you were saying, I thought... well, what can you do that this Mike chap can't? You can fly a plane. So I thought that you... could fly Hannah somewhere. As a treat. So I asked Carolyn.”
For a wild moment Douglas wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell Martin that he had no right to give Carolyn this information, that he shouldn't be prying and interfering in Douglas' life. But the younger man's face was earnest, and he was genuinely trying to help. Douglas sighed.
“I am being remarkably generous,” Carolyn commented. “You can take GERTI, you can go on a trip for one day. And you will owe me every single favour I call in for the next month. Understood?”
Douglas raised one eyebrow. “Understood,” he said.
“Excellent. Now, you need to sort out where you are going and when. Get cracking, it needs to go on the wall chart. Now, both of you, leave this place. I need to not look at you for a while.”
Back in the main room, Arthur handed Douglas his tea and began babbling excitedly about all the places they could take Hannah. Most of his suggestions stemmed more from the name of the country rather than any understanding of what the place was like, but Douglas had no desire to stop the flow of enthusiasm.
He did, however, give Martin a small smile, squeezing his shoulder in silent thanks as he stepped outside to call Rachel.
Chapter 4: The Day
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Cabin Pressure is written by John Finnemore, and is a Pozzitive Production for the BBC! I am, in no way, shape, or form, associated with any of these people.
Summary: "To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter." Douglas loves his daughter, and wants to be a good father. Things don't always work out that way.
Chapter One: The Perfect Present
Chapter Two: The Other Dad
Chapter Three: The Plan
“How was your weekend?” Martin asked, his voice genuinely interested.
“Hm? Oh, it was fine. Lovely.”
“Did Hannah like her present?”
“She seemed to.”
“Oh, good! That's good.” Martin was always so sincerely pleased about these things. “I'm glad things are better. You must be relieved.”
“Mm. Yes. Quite.”
Douglas resolutely did not look at Martin, but he could still clearly picture the younger man's concerned, puzzled frown, could see the question forming on his lips. He was thankfully saved from the impending conversation by the loud entrance of Arthur.
Martin, however, was nothing if not tenacious. He had guessed that something was wrong, and he wasn't going to let Douglas get away with not talking about it. Douglas would have resented it, but he knew that he would do exactly the same if their positions were reversed. Although obviously he would do so far more skilfully.
In the bar of a Pisa motel that night, Douglas finally caved and told Martin about what Hannah had said to Mike. He kept his voice light, his eyes averted, not wanting to let on the depths to which it had hurt him. He had forgotten, however, that Martin was oddly perceptive of people's emotions, so his efforts were all for naught.
“Douglas, I'm so sorry. That's awful.”
“Well, it's understandable, I suppose. She barely sees me, but she lives with him. He does all the dad stuff.”
“That doesn't make it right. You're her dad.”
Douglas grunted. “It seems that Mike is the sort of person who helps with homework, who takes her to the cinema, who imparts world truths on her... it doesn't leave much space for me.”
Martin bit his lip, fidgeting slightly with his glass. “I didn't get on with my dad,” he said finally. “We never saw eye-to-eye on... well, on anything. But he was still my dad, and I still loved him. I realised when I was older how much he did for us. It's not very helpful now but... Hannah will come round, when she's older. Probably. I mean, she's only ten. Ten year olds are easily swayed by cinema tickets and icecream.”
Sometimes, Douglas reflected, Martin wasn't as daft as he appeared. “Possibly. I'd prefer not to wait for years, though.”
“No. Of course. I know it doesn't really help. Maybe you should... do something for her. Something that Mike couldn't do.”
“I think Hannah has already decided that Mike is the best thing to happen to the world since Justin Bieber.”
“Who?”
“I really don't know.”
The two men sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, until Douglas heaved a sigh. “I think I'll go to bed,” he muttered. “See you in the morning, Icarus.”
Martin rolled his eyes at the nickname, but raised his glass in farewell. Douglas left the captain to it and traipsed up to the tiny, cramped room. He changed into pyjamas, brushed his teeth, glared sullenly at his reflection for a few moments, then climbed into the tiny bed.
The mattress was hard, the pillow thin, and a branch was knocking distractedly against the window. Douglas could not get comfortable, no matter what position he lay in, and he spent over an hour twisting this way and that, trying and failing to drop off. Eventually he simply lay staring at the stained ceiling, reflecting miserably on how very wrong things seemed to be. How on earth had he ended up like this? He was the most intelligent, resourceful person he knew, but somehow his life had spiralled rather out of control and he was losing the most important thing in it.
The next morning, he was in a bad temper. He knew he was being irrational, knew that he was being angry for the wrong reasons, but that didn't stop him. It wasn't Carolyn's fault that the airfield had a runway closure. It wasn't Martin's fault that that same airfield forgot to put their flight plan in the system. But he still snarled and snapped at them, making Carolyn furious and Martin peevishly defensive. Overall, it was not a pleasant flight, and Douglas was looking forward to getting home and having some proper sleep.
Except he wasn't looking forward to getting home. Not really. Home was an empty house with too much space and not enough noise. Home was trying to fill his hours so he wouldn't realise how lonely he was. This knowledge did nothing to help his bad mood.
The next day, Douglas arrived at the airfield late, as usual. They were on standby, so he felt no need to haul himself out of bed to arrive in time for a day of sitting around. His bad mood had dissipated somewhat, and he hoped that Martin had stopped sulking with him.
“Morning, Douglas!” Arthur beamed as he entered the portacabin. “I've just boiled the kettle! D'you want tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Arthur.”
“No problem! Mum and Skip were just telling me about our next flight! It sounds really exciting!”
“Does it now?” Douglas drawled, dropping onto the moth-eaten sofa and pulling out his morning's newspaper. “And where, pray tell, are we going?”
“Well, I don't really know. You must know, though.”
“Why would I know? I've only just arrived.”
“But you must! We're flying your daughter, after all!”
Douglas lowered the paper to stare at Arthur's open, beaming face. “My daughter?”
“Yeah! Skipper said we were flying her and her friends somewhere, for a treat! He was talking to Mum about it for ages yesterday!”
Douglas blinked. Martin had been talking to Carolyn about Hannah? They were flying Hannah somewhere? What on earth was going on? Obviously this called for some investigation. He dropped his newspaper onto the sofa and pushed himself to his feet, heading for the cupboard Carolyn called her office, flinging open the door unceremoniously.
Carolyn and Martin glanced up at his entrance. They were hunched over Carolyn's rickety desk, papers laid out in front of them. Carolyn looked stern. “You,” she intoned briskly. “Are late.”
“I am also, apparently, the last to know about a magical mystery tour my daughter is going on.”
Carolyn rolled her eyes. “I told you Arthur would tell him,” Carolyn said to Martin, who shrugged.
“So would you please tell me what is going on?”
“It was my idea,” Martin said, his tone already defensive. “After what you were saying, I thought... well, what can you do that this Mike chap can't? You can fly a plane. So I thought that you... could fly Hannah somewhere. As a treat. So I asked Carolyn.”
For a wild moment Douglas wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell Martin that he had no right to give Carolyn this information, that he shouldn't be prying and interfering in Douglas' life. But the younger man's face was earnest, and he was genuinely trying to help. Douglas sighed.
“I am being remarkably generous,” Carolyn commented. “You can take GERTI, you can go on a trip for one day. And you will owe me every single favour I call in for the next month. Understood?”
Douglas raised one eyebrow. “Understood,” he said.
“Excellent. Now, you need to sort out where you are going and when. Get cracking, it needs to go on the wall chart. Now, both of you, leave this place. I need to not look at you for a while.”
Back in the main room, Arthur handed Douglas his tea and began babbling excitedly about all the places they could take Hannah. Most of his suggestions stemmed more from the name of the country rather than any understanding of what the place was like, but Douglas had no desire to stop the flow of enthusiasm.
He did, however, give Martin a small smile, squeezing his shoulder in silent thanks as he stepped outside to call Rachel.
Chapter 4: The Day