cabinpres_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cabinpres_fic) wrote2012-02-03 07:49 am
cabinpres_fic) wrote2012-02-03 07:49 am
Entry tags:
PROMPT POST PART III
Please see the most recent MOD NOTE
(updated 6 June)
Welcome everybody. How you got here I have no idea but thank you for coming and welcome again, nonetheless . As you may have gathered this is a Fic Prompting Meme dedicated solely to the hilarious and oh-so-addictive BBC Radio 4 sitcom - Cabin Pressure. I'm aiming for this to be pretty anything goes - but in order for everything to run smoothly, there are a few guidelines. Don't worry - they're not too restrictive.
FILLING GUIDELINES
As you probably all know - our meme now has it's very own database created and maintained by the great Enigel. It both catalogues each and every prompt that we post and provides links to fills. You can find it here: Google Spreadsheet
We also have a Pinboard archive which has been put in place by the lovely
oxfordtweed in the place of our late Delicious Archive. This Archive contains a list of all the prompts this meme has to offer - you can find it here: Pinboard ArchiveThis is a great step forward in making our meme just a little more organised (but not too organised of course. This is Cabin Pressure) which is always a good thing.
So in order to make things easier to archive - Please nest your fills.
This can be done by either posting each part as a reply to that part's immediate predecessor, OR by replying each time to Part I OR - well you get the idea :D
It makes it simpler for Enigel and myself to link fills in a clean and clear manner. Following these guildelines will be very much appreciated guys :D
REPROMPTING
Reprompting is allowed but please include the URL of the original prompt when you do so. It will make it infinitely more easy to Archive which would make both Enigel and I very happy :)
As for everything else
- Be respectful to one another. Disagreements are fine, but not everything disagreeable is trolling. If you suspect someone of trolling, just ignore it. If you cannot respond to a comment without attacking or trolling someone else, keep it to yourself.
- No bashing prompts. It might not be your cup of tea - but obviously someone wants it enough to go to the effort of requesting it. So just scroll past it.
- Prompt away as much as you like guys - seriously, go wild - but please try to fill as well.
- Please no RPF. I'm not trying to oppress you RPF writers and enthusiasts, I would just really like to avoid any legal problems.
- When you post a fill (or post a new part of a WIP) please go over to the Filled Prompts Post (if it is complete) or the WIP Post (if there are still more parts to come) and, following each post's guideline's, post a link to this fill or new part.
NEW - If your fill includes a major element that veers from the original prompt (crossovers, established universes, kinks, et cetera), please take a few moments to check with the OP that such additions are welcome. This has caused problems in the past and it only takes a few moments of your time.
REALLY IMPORTANT ADDENDUM
According to numerous Child Safety laws it is illegal to provide pornographic material to minors. Seeing that the majority of the stuff we have here is rather adult in nature, this Meme is consequently an 18+ zone. Failing to comply to this rule could result in the Meme getting shut down. So if you're here and you're under 18 please back button now.
+ Please do not post anything regarding minors in a sexual situation. It really doesn't matter how tasteful or crass it is, there are laws that classify that sort of thing as child pornography and as such, I'm afraid we're going to have to go with the attitude that safe is better than sorry.
It really is VERY important that these rules are upheld as the consequences are severe.
Other than that - go crazy guys. Any problems please just message me and I'll try my best to work it out.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Prompt Index
Current Prompt Post | Current Chatter Post | WIP Post | Filled Prompts Post | Searching Post | Orphan Post | Page-a-Mod Post | FAQ | Beta/Concrit Post
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
cabin_pressure @ LJ | Cabin Pressure @ AO3 | IRC Chat @ irc.ecnet.org #FittonATC
FILL: Fine 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-05 04:35 am (UTC)(link)“Martin.”
Russia has been stretching underneath them for a good two hours. They've been taking it in turns to fly solo and catch some sleep in the cabin – it was a late night, arguing with a hotel manager and an angry bellhop.
“Martin.”
Martin's last turn in the cabin wasn't exactly restful. He can still hear the policeman's voice, the rather one-sided conversation replaying itself in scattered patches. Emergency contact. Instantaneous. So sorry. The children are fine.
The children are fine. Yes, fine. Six and seven years old and suddenly missing a parent each, but they're fine.
“Martin.”
“Wha- what?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course, I'm – I'm fine, fine, why wouldn't I be?”
“I've been standing behind you saying clever variations on It's my turn to fly for about two minutes, and you haven't even moved. I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep at the wheel.”
“No, um. No. No. I'm... fine. Sorry. Just, um. Tired.”
Martin very carefully does not turn around. He can hear Douglas's keenly honed sense of suspicion crackling to life behind him.
“...Martin, what's happened?”
“Nothing! Nothing, I'm just... tired.”
“Martin.”
“Nothing is wrong, Douglas!” he snaps, biting the words out between clenched teeth. “I think I'm entitled to feel a little bit out of it every once in a while without being interrogated; I – I – bloody hell, sit down and take control, I can't – stop my hands shaking...”
Douglas sits, saying nothing but giving Martin a very pointed look.
Martin sighs, clutching his hands together in his lap. He swallows. “I got – a phone call. When I was in the cabin. From a policeman. I think.”
Douglas raises an eyebrow. “You think?”
“I sort of... lost track. Wasn't thinking; couldn't... think.”
“And what did this maybe-a-policeman have to say?”
Martin blinks. Then he does it again, a few times, very quickly. His throat is hot and tight, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “My brother and sister. They... were... They'd gotten together for lunch...”
“Oh... God...”
“And – they had their kids with them; C-Caitlin had Lily and Simon had Max...”
“Oh, God.”
“The children are fine.” The children are fine. The children are fine. The children are fine. “But there was – a lorry... It didn't – the driver... They think he was drunk. He says he didn't see them.”
“Oh, God, Martin...”
Martin swallows again, doing his best to ignore Douglas because if he acknowledges the fact that the other man is being sincere and horrified and sympathetic, he will be done speaking – and possibly breathing – for a few hours. “He s- said it was instantaneous, they wouldn't have felt any pain... Shattered skull and pierced heart.”
“He told you –”
“I asked. So I'd know he wasn't lying.”
For a few minutes, the flight deck is silent – or as silent as a flight deck can be. Martin grips the bottom of his chair with both hands to stop himself biting them, a nervous habit from when he was young. He stares at the console in front of him and tries to remember what any of the instrument readings mean.
Douglas clears his throat. “So – what about the children?”
“Neither of the spouses was in the car.”
“That's...”
“Good. Yeah.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Thank you.”
FILL: Fine 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-05 04:37 am (UTC)(link)and then Martin suddenly can't be here any longer. He's been sitting in this tiny room for the past hour, alone with his shock and the beginnings of grief, and now it's as if he's trapped in here with all of the stifled emotions and he has to get out.
He stands, slowly, because he wants to leap up and run. “I... need to... just – just get some... air.”
“I wouldn't recommend opening the windows.”
Martin laughs, genuinely, because Douglas cracking jokes is suddenly a piece of normalcy that he desperately needs.
He enters the galley, intent on getting through to the cabin as quickly as possible and without speaking to either of their resident Shappeys.
This, of course, does not happen.
What happens is that he shuts the door on the flight deck and all of the shock stays behind and his legs realize that they can't possibly hold up the mass of turmoil and emotion and at least a few stages of grief they're meant to be supporting.
He slides to the floor and curls up into a ball, vaguely aware of distant-sounding shouts of alarm and are you all right, Skip and what did Douglas do and someone taking his hat off so it won't get crumpled.
Then someone is pulling his arms away from his face, and when he opens his eyes Carolyn is staring into them, face white. “Martin, what on Earth –”
He opens his mouth to explain, or to say that he is fine, or quite possibly just to ask her to please let him resume his previous fetal position, but what actually comes out is a strangled sound somewhere between a sick kitten and a bulldozer driving over a field of cheap glass.
Carolyn's lips press into a thin line. She squeezes Martin's shoulder and stands up. “Arthur, look after Martin. I'm going to have a word with Douglas.”
Martin barely hears this. He has backed himself up against the wall again and is driving the heels of his palms into his eyes. He can feel himself trembling all over.
A weight settles beside him and he tenses, holding his breath.
“It's all right, Skip. I won't ask any questions.”
He tries to say thank you, but the kitten is now eating the jagged shards left behind by the bulldozer.
“You can lean on me, if you want. Or not. Or I could go away.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
---
The sight that greets Carolyn when she reenters the galley nearly robs her of the calm collectedness she has so carefully affected. She heard the sobbing start a few seconds after entering the flight deck, but somehow she still wasn't quite prepared for this.
Martin is still on the floor. So is Arthur.
Martin is sitting more or less in Arthur's lap. He is shaking worse than before, face buried in Arthur's chest and arms wound tightly around his neck.
Arthur's own face is pale and streaked with tears, but he is doing his best – one arm wrapped around Martin's waist to support him, the other hand rubbing slow circles on his back as he tells him quietly and repeatedly that it's all right, everything is all right, even if it isn't, because they're all here to help.
Carolyn feels a surge of pride for her son. Cracks about Ipswich aside, people have always been what he is best at.
FILL: Fine 3/3
(Anonymous) 2012-03-05 04:42 am (UTC)(link)Martin can't remember getting up off the floor. Or crossing the room. Or sitting back down.
He remembers Carolyn hugging him, which is ridiculous and a clear sign that he has well and truly snapped.
Then again, he is currently lying with his head in her lap, and he's fairly certain he's not hallucinating because he read somewhere that you have the wrong number of fingers when that happens and he's counted his twice.
Carolyn has one hand in his hair, stroking gently through it, and Martin has never been so acutely aware of the fact that she is a mother.
Arthur is sitting next to her, wedged tightly so that he can continue rubbing Martin's back. He is humming softly, and has been doing so ever since Carolyn explained the situation to him (in hushed whispers, as if it would somehow hurt less if said quietly). Martin wonders idly if Arthur is aware that he is doing it or if it's just a nervous reaction.
Either way, he doesn't exactly mind.
---
Martin has been dozing lightly on and off for about two hours when the cabin address comes on.
“I hate to do this, Martin, but you probably really should take over for a bit. This is starting to get dangerous. Well. Dangerous by my standards. It got dangerous by yours about an hour ago.”
Martin stands, stiffly, and sways for a moment. He is dehydrated and suddenly terrifyingly dizzy. “Just... one moment,” he mutters, and bolts for the lavatory.
The sink water isn't quite cold, but it provides enough of a shock to wake him up a bit. Thanks to years of practice and ow, damn, stupid ear, he has enough presence of mind not to shake his head.
When he returns to the galley, Carolyn is doing something on her mobile and Arthur is holding out a glass of water and his hat.
Martin downs the water gratefully, managing to give Arthur a small smile as he dons his cap. Then he heads out to the flight deck.
Douglas looks absolutely exhausted, and Martin wonders guiltily how long he has been in the galley. “Sorry about...”
“Don't.”
Douglas stands. Martin squares his shoulders, suddenly feeling like he should be proving something.
And then he is being pulled into a brief, but strong, embrace, and it is all he can do not to fall right back apart.
Douglas releases him after a few seconds, clapping him on the shoulder and departing with a firm, “Only an hour or so. I'll have Carolyn wake me.”
Martin sits, takes hold of the controls, and breathes deeply.
This is an easy flight. He could probably do it with his eyes closed. He could certainly do it without giving it much real thought.
He thinks. Hard. About everything. He reports their current position and checks all the instruments and wonders why the air on the top of the wings and the air on the bottom don't just split up.
Arthur and Carolyn come in every so often. Carolyn talks about expenses and clients and next week's flight, and asks if he still wants... (Of course he does, of course he does, he will never not want to fly, especially now, well, maybe not now now, but in a week, yes, he needs to fly.)
Arthur brings him coffee and biscuits and talks about clouds and why they look different when you're in them and the flowers in the hold, and gives him a hug around the back of his seat when he takes too long to respond.
After an hour and a half, Douglas comes back and takes control, and Martin stays where he is. They play games and Douglas wins them all and Martin sulks and they argue about whether Constantinople does or does not rhyme with Istanbul. The stupefying shock and horror have vacated the flight deck and been replaced by a not-quite-forced semblance of ordinariness that Martin is unspeakably grateful for.
He only wishes they didn't have to land.
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
Ctrl+v
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
OP here
(Anonymous) 2012-03-05 06:07 pm (UTC)(link)Lovely little fic, my favorite bit is Carolyn acting all mother-like to Martin. Mother!Carolyn is a favorite of mine and you subconsciously picked up on that. Wonderful job, anon. =3
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
This was so well written! Excellent ficcery, really.
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
(Anonymous) 2012-03-21 10:20 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
(Anonymous) 2012-03-21 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
*wow*
gosh...
Hurray for the crew being them (and the children not dying. Though I hope they lost consciousness, no kid should see that.) and I loved loved loved it. And I wish I could give a better review but I am not coherent at the moment.
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
are you all right, Skip and what did Douglas do and someone taking his hat off so it won't get crumpled.
a strangled sound somewhere between a sick kitten and a bulldozer driving over a field of cheap glass
"This is starting to get dangerous. Well. Dangerous by my standards. It got dangerous by yours about an hour ago."
All these little moments add to how Carolyn goes into mother mode, Arthur instinctively provides the quiet comforting words and physical support Martin needs while Douglas gives sympathetic and some time to gather himself. Then they all shift into distraction mode when all he needs is to avoid thinkng. By turns devastating and filled with warmth and hope.
Re: FILL: Fine 3/3
(Anonymous) 2013-03-30 04:08 am (UTC)(link)