Hollow (Douglas!centric)
Title: Hollow
Pairing: Douglas!centric (with focus on platonic Douglas/Martin)
Summary: They say he jumped off a residential block and was dead immediately. They say he broke his neck and he didn't suffer. (1.4K)
Note I: The summary makes it pretty evident that this is a fic centred around a character death but take this as a repeated warning if you're not into that sort of thing. Also set after the third season, I guess.
Note II: I dedicate this once again to the most brilliant Jordan. Take this as an early birthday present if you want, and I'm sorry. This is what stanning for Kafka during the greater part of my adolescence has done to me - what is happiness?
He has one voicemail. It's Martin. The shaky voice seeps into his ear, almost drowned out by the faint noise of cars rushing by: "Hey, Douglas. Sir here. [forced laughter] You know, I ... we're not particularly close but I always considered you as somewhat of a ... confidante. And there's something I wanted to talk to you about but I didn't. It's ... I'm way past broke. I'm a disappointment to my family. No women could ever consider loving me. [sniffs] I'm a terrible captain. [silence] These are things I've realised, over some time now. And I can't ... I can't exist like this anymore. There are no options left for me. I ... I'll fly for one last time, Douglas. And then I'll be free. Thank you, and Caroline, and Arthur, for being with me throughout these last few years. Really, thank you."
Douglas' heart goes into a tailspin and finally, it crashes to the ground.
-
They say he jumped off a residential block and was dead immediately. They say he broke his neck and he didn't suffer. WHAT DO YOU KNOW, Caroline screams at them. Douglas feels sick and he can't move. Can't respond when they ask him to identify the corpse. In his trance, he hears Caroline next to him, taking over the talking. I just want this to be over with quickly, she responds with a wavering voice. Douglas can't blame her. She has a son at home, probably in a worse state then he is himself right now, wailing on the living room floor. Or maybe it was the couch, he can't remember and it doesn't matter. Returning back to the present, Caroline briskly pushes a pen into his hand. Sign this and let's get out of here. You look tired, but he really isn't. He can feel the oil leaking from his engine, and the needles on the control board are going crazy. He just can't understand what's going on outside of himself that clearly anymore. Voices are muffled, faces are slurred; a glass wall separating him from the world. He mechanically signs his name (hopefully) and they leave. He can't quite decipher Caroline's face but he doesn't have to. She grips his hand tightly, then let's go and gets into a taxi without another word. He understands. Poor Arthur can't get off the ground.
It would have been a pilot's nightmare.
-
MJN Air doesn't fly for one and a half week. No explanation is needed because if you don't have passengers, then who cares. Douglas folds up his uniform(s) and puts them underneath all the rest of his clothing. When Helena asks, he tells her that a hard-working colleague with flimsy nerves has decided to depart from the Earth. It's a one-way trip. She scolds him and he settles on a grin that he hopes looks more like chastised-and-aware-of-own-fault than slowly-losing-grip-on-how-to-stay-composed. We were not particularly close. - Still, Douglas. Still. I was his confidante.
It takes him a while to accept that leafing through the aviation books that were bequeathed on him is much easier than not trying to think about it at all. There are scribbled, almost unreadable notes on the sides of the pages. Douglas is forced to realise that reading the printed text makes understanding them a lot easier. Next to the picture of a cross-sectioned plane, the scribbled notes say: Cavities can be a good thing. He is not sure if he can agree.
-
It's only on Tuesday that he can cry. The faces have shifted back into focus since late Sunday but it's only been this morning that he could hear Helena's voice clearly again; and he blames the tearing eyes on rough upper wind now that his glass wall is gone.
He starts crying when he finds a single red hair on his uniform, intended to be taken out for a washing, and he keeps on sobbing over cheese variations and Simon says and a voicemail he can recite by heart. He wants to curse him, call him a no-good failure and a traitor of dreams, but he only ends up crying more, shouting excuses into the air. Sorry that I insulted you when you're not even here anymore. It's no fun anyway. Sorry for charming all the passengers you wanted to ask out. You know nothing happened between us anyway. Sorry for making it seem like we weren't close. Thank you for calling me anyway.
-
The funeral takes place on Thursday. Caroline and Arthur are there, Douglas himself, some other aviation-related folk and a group of people he presumes to be family. The clergyman reads some passages, someone talks about dedication and strength and too early, and Arthur is sinking deeper and deeper down in his seat. Douglas is clutching onto a flower and his self-control with all his might.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust." [...]
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. - Psalm 91:2-4
He thinks for the first time about how it's a shame that he is too cynical to be religious. He could have told himself, over time, that Martin has finally arrived where he was always destined to be; forever unburdened and flying in the sky. I wanted to be an aeroplane ...
But Douglas knows that he isn't. He's dead, a mangled body buried under six feet of dirt, a feast to the worms and a testament to failed dreams. No flying above the clouds, no singing in the Heavenly Choir - just this; the ruddy ground beneath his feet and a place of work above.
It's time. The doors are sealed airtight. The motor starts running again. Douglas tries telling himself he's ready to go back to his life again.
-
It's a weird atmosphere during their first flight after ... it. Caroline doesn't berate random passengers for insufficient adherence to the rules, she actually doesn't leave her 'office' once during the flight.
Arthur is sombre as the wind going through a field of lilies at a graveyard. He welcomes, he serves, being his ever diligent self - but there's no joy, no overflowing enthusiasm; in the end, there's no real Arthur.
And then there's Douglas in the cockpit. With a new pilot. He doesn't know whether it's the surreality of the situation or simply his unwillingness to accept it that prompts him to forget the new man's name after less than five minutes, continuously. He's steering the plane, as a captain does; wearing the proper uniform a captain should but Douglas just can't force the word to spill over his lips. As much as he wants to blame it on his indignation towards authority, or the ones perceiving themselves as such, he can't.
This is all wrong. Cavities can be a good thing. He really can't agree.
-
With time, he learns that the new man's name is George and that he has a family he loves very much and is very good at landing. He is a serious menace when it comes to Simon says, yet not so much a thread when it comes to rhyming games. But the most fascinating thing might still be that he miraculously enjoys eating Surprise Rice. Douglas decides by himself that he must have severely burnt his taste buds when he was a child and leaves it at that and the occasional raised eyebrow. Arthur can smile again and Douglas acquiesces that that is worth more than the sacrifice of a few punch lines.
He adjusts the embroidered captain's hat on the control board. Is that Martin's, by the way? George is not timid but he is kind. Yes. He has made his mark.
-
After dinner, Helena asks him if he wants to join her in front of the television. If you don't mind me reading a little. Douglas sinks into the couch and opens Civil Aviation: A Compact History.
This book is dedicated to all those who have dreamt of heaven, searched the skies and stayed there for a little while - some of whom came back to us and some of whom didn't. We will remember you fondly for your perseverance and shall be ever inspired by your insatiable thirst for beauty and knowledge to keep exploring the void.
"Hey, what do you think ... Can cavities be a good thing?"
"Cavities? What are you talking about?"
"Never mind." Maybe they can.
Pairing: Douglas!centric (with focus on platonic Douglas/Martin)
Summary: They say he jumped off a residential block and was dead immediately. They say he broke his neck and he didn't suffer. (1.4K)
Note I: The summary makes it pretty evident that this is a fic centred around a character death but take this as a repeated warning if you're not into that sort of thing. Also set after the third season, I guess.
Note II: I dedicate this once again to the most brilliant Jordan. Take this as an early birthday present if you want, and I'm sorry. This is what stanning for Kafka during the greater part of my adolescence has done to me - what is happiness?
He has one voicemail. It's Martin. The shaky voice seeps into his ear, almost drowned out by the faint noise of cars rushing by: "Hey, Douglas. Sir here. [forced laughter] You know, I ... we're not particularly close but I always considered you as somewhat of a ... confidante. And there's something I wanted to talk to you about but I didn't. It's ... I'm way past broke. I'm a disappointment to my family. No women could ever consider loving me. [sniffs] I'm a terrible captain. [silence] These are things I've realised, over some time now. And I can't ... I can't exist like this anymore. There are no options left for me. I ... I'll fly for one last time, Douglas. And then I'll be free. Thank you, and Caroline, and Arthur, for being with me throughout these last few years. Really, thank you."
Douglas' heart goes into a tailspin and finally, it crashes to the ground.
-
They say he jumped off a residential block and was dead immediately. They say he broke his neck and he didn't suffer. WHAT DO YOU KNOW, Caroline screams at them. Douglas feels sick and he can't move. Can't respond when they ask him to identify the corpse. In his trance, he hears Caroline next to him, taking over the talking. I just want this to be over with quickly, she responds with a wavering voice. Douglas can't blame her. She has a son at home, probably in a worse state then he is himself right now, wailing on the living room floor. Or maybe it was the couch, he can't remember and it doesn't matter. Returning back to the present, Caroline briskly pushes a pen into his hand. Sign this and let's get out of here. You look tired, but he really isn't. He can feel the oil leaking from his engine, and the needles on the control board are going crazy. He just can't understand what's going on outside of himself that clearly anymore. Voices are muffled, faces are slurred; a glass wall separating him from the world. He mechanically signs his name (hopefully) and they leave. He can't quite decipher Caroline's face but he doesn't have to. She grips his hand tightly, then let's go and gets into a taxi without another word. He understands. Poor Arthur can't get off the ground.
It would have been a pilot's nightmare.
-
MJN Air doesn't fly for one and a half week. No explanation is needed because if you don't have passengers, then who cares. Douglas folds up his uniform(s) and puts them underneath all the rest of his clothing. When Helena asks, he tells her that a hard-working colleague with flimsy nerves has decided to depart from the Earth. It's a one-way trip. She scolds him and he settles on a grin that he hopes looks more like chastised-and-aware-of-own-fault than slowly-losing-grip-on-how-to-stay-composed. We were not particularly close. - Still, Douglas. Still. I was his confidante.
It takes him a while to accept that leafing through the aviation books that were bequeathed on him is much easier than not trying to think about it at all. There are scribbled, almost unreadable notes on the sides of the pages. Douglas is forced to realise that reading the printed text makes understanding them a lot easier. Next to the picture of a cross-sectioned plane, the scribbled notes say: Cavities can be a good thing. He is not sure if he can agree.
-
It's only on Tuesday that he can cry. The faces have shifted back into focus since late Sunday but it's only been this morning that he could hear Helena's voice clearly again; and he blames the tearing eyes on rough upper wind now that his glass wall is gone.
He starts crying when he finds a single red hair on his uniform, intended to be taken out for a washing, and he keeps on sobbing over cheese variations and Simon says and a voicemail he can recite by heart. He wants to curse him, call him a no-good failure and a traitor of dreams, but he only ends up crying more, shouting excuses into the air. Sorry that I insulted you when you're not even here anymore. It's no fun anyway. Sorry for charming all the passengers you wanted to ask out. You know nothing happened between us anyway. Sorry for making it seem like we weren't close. Thank you for calling me anyway.
-
The funeral takes place on Thursday. Caroline and Arthur are there, Douglas himself, some other aviation-related folk and a group of people he presumes to be family. The clergyman reads some passages, someone talks about dedication and strength and too early, and Arthur is sinking deeper and deeper down in his seat. Douglas is clutching onto a flower and his self-control with all his might.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust." [...]
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. - Psalm 91:2-4
He thinks for the first time about how it's a shame that he is too cynical to be religious. He could have told himself, over time, that Martin has finally arrived where he was always destined to be; forever unburdened and flying in the sky. I wanted to be an aeroplane ...
But Douglas knows that he isn't. He's dead, a mangled body buried under six feet of dirt, a feast to the worms and a testament to failed dreams. No flying above the clouds, no singing in the Heavenly Choir - just this; the ruddy ground beneath his feet and a place of work above.
It's time. The doors are sealed airtight. The motor starts running again. Douglas tries telling himself he's ready to go back to his life again.
-
It's a weird atmosphere during their first flight after ... it. Caroline doesn't berate random passengers for insufficient adherence to the rules, she actually doesn't leave her 'office' once during the flight.
Arthur is sombre as the wind going through a field of lilies at a graveyard. He welcomes, he serves, being his ever diligent self - but there's no joy, no overflowing enthusiasm; in the end, there's no real Arthur.
And then there's Douglas in the cockpit. With a new pilot. He doesn't know whether it's the surreality of the situation or simply his unwillingness to accept it that prompts him to forget the new man's name after less than five minutes, continuously. He's steering the plane, as a captain does; wearing the proper uniform a captain should but Douglas just can't force the word to spill over his lips. As much as he wants to blame it on his indignation towards authority, or the ones perceiving themselves as such, he can't.
This is all wrong. Cavities can be a good thing. He really can't agree.
-
With time, he learns that the new man's name is George and that he has a family he loves very much and is very good at landing. He is a serious menace when it comes to Simon says, yet not so much a thread when it comes to rhyming games. But the most fascinating thing might still be that he miraculously enjoys eating Surprise Rice. Douglas decides by himself that he must have severely burnt his taste buds when he was a child and leaves it at that and the occasional raised eyebrow. Arthur can smile again and Douglas acquiesces that that is worth more than the sacrifice of a few punch lines.
He adjusts the embroidered captain's hat on the control board. Is that Martin's, by the way? George is not timid but he is kind. Yes. He has made his mark.
-
After dinner, Helena asks him if he wants to join her in front of the television. If you don't mind me reading a little. Douglas sinks into the couch and opens Civil Aviation: A Compact History.
This book is dedicated to all those who have dreamt of heaven, searched the skies and stayed there for a little while - some of whom came back to us and some of whom didn't. We will remember you fondly for your perseverance and shall be ever inspired by your insatiable thirst for beauty and knowledge to keep exploring the void.
"Hey, what do you think ... Can cavities be a good thing?"
"Cavities? What are you talking about?"
"Never mind." Maybe they can.