cabinpres_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cabinpres_fic) wrote2010-09-24 12:13 pm
cabinpres_fic) wrote2010-09-24 12:13 pm
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WELCOME - Prompts Post Part I
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
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Fill: Part 1 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)-------------------------------
Another diversion. Another warning light on the blink with no actual problem. Douglas had unleashed the merciless attacks of ‘I told you so’ on the way back and Carolyn had torn a huge strip off him when they’d landed. At least she hadn’t torn a stripe off him, he supposed. Even Arthur’s usually unshakable cheer dissipated when Carolyn began her surprisingly well constructed argument. Martin thought that she would probably have been very good at debating, if she didn’t shout so much. Or swear. He was quite proud that he didn’t cry though, at least not when anyone was around to see him.
Back in the dingy, unheated safety of his flat he’d cried, but that was fair enough, in a place like that even Douglas would have cried. Well, that’s what he told himself. The growl of Carolyn lingered in his ears like a ringing sound after a concert. MJN is on the ropes as it is and I don’t need perpetually pointless pilots making perpetually pointless diversions. Perpetually pointless. He added that to his mental list of insults people had aimed at him. If I paid you at all I’d dock your wages but so help me, if I ever hear the word ‘diversion’ without the words ‘or we are going to die’ I will make you pay for it. Am I making myself perfectly clear, good. He cringed back into the arm chair, shuddering when he thought about the state of his bank balance.
After a couple of hours replaying Carolyn’s rant in his head another voice pierced his consciousness. You, a pilot, come on son, be realistic yeah? Martin inwardly groaned. Look it’s not the end of the world is it, you can always come out in the van with me like I said. You don’t need to pass an exam for that. A part of him even then pulled at him to just say okay and move on with his life. Alright, I give up. But I really hope you know what you’re doing. He’d been walking away, preparing to move out when he’d heard but you don’t, son, you don’t, whispered behind him.
He trudged to his room with traitorous tears already pricking at his eyes. He sat on the edge of his bed and felt the voices echoing in his mind grow solid and form ghostlike presences around him, screaming at him. He switched on the lamp and with a shaking hand he pulled open the draw on his bedside table and reached for the small black box inside. Everything else had a thick layer of dust. The box was pristine. He opened it and pushed aside gauze, plasters and bandages until his fingers brushed the clear plastic box that held the razor blade, glistening in the dim light like fangs. He never kept it loose in the black box, it wouldn’t do for him to reach for it and slice open his finger. That pain served no purpose, it wasn’t controlled. I didn’t help.
A deep breath calmed him and he opened the clear box to retrieve the razor blade, just running his fingers over it carefully before reverently placing it on the bed next to him. The ghosts were still screaming. He rolled up his sleeve past his elbow and folded it neatly into place. Then he picked up the blade, placed it to his forearm, parallel to a thin scar and a scab already there and paused, breathing deeply. The ghosts seemed to be getting louder, fighting to be heard. He let a tear fall down his cheek as he pressed down and viciously dragged the blade across his arm. It took a moment for his body to register what had happened. A moment before the skin separated and beads of blood appeared at seemingly random intervals along the cut. Pain registered itself as an afterthought, centimetre by centimetre along the cut making Martin wince. Another tear fell and he pressed the blade back in place. He dragged it along, slowly this time, closing his eyes to block out all sensation but the cold metal in his fingers and the pain in his arm.
Fill: Part 2 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)He walked to the bathroom, keeping his arm perpendicular to his body and clutching the razor blade in one hand. He didn’t look in the mirror once he got there, he only assessed the damage and cleaned off the blade. He then cleaned off his arm, sucking air through his teeth with a hiss as the cold water entered the abrasion, and walked back to his room to dress the cut. Quickly and efficiently. He never really thought about it anymore.
When all was done, and having put the mildly bloodstained trousers in the basket of other dirty clothes, he put everything back in its place in the black box, put the box back in the draw and switched off the light, wriggling under the covers as he did. With only a t-shirt on, his arm was defenceless against any movements against the duvet, but he didn’t dwell on it, choosing to deal with the damage as it was in the morning.
His head hit the pillow and the room was blissfully silent. He ran his fingers over the bandage on his arm and pressed down a little. He couldn’t hear anything, or more precisely anyone, and it was wonderful. He drifted on into sleep in blissful quiet, wishing it would just bloody stay that way.
He started to hate overnight stays when the cutting got worse. He obviously couldn’t take the razor blade with him in his hand luggage and when Carolyn clamped down on the accommodation budget, thus forcing Douglas to share a room with Martin, or Martin to share a room with Arthur, if Carolyn wasn’t on the trip, Martin found himself with barely a free second to make the voices and the incessant itch go away.
Arthur never left his side if they were sharing. He would be all but bouncing off the walls with suggestions of games they could play to pass the time. Martin usually granted him a couple of games of Pictionary but he always flatly refused charades. Sometimes Arthur managed to make Martin smile with his artistic interpretations and for a while his perplexed mind forgot about how long it had been or how many very good reasons to cut he had and it just focused on trying not to laugh too loudly at Arthur.
When he had to share a room with Douglas it was slightly easier. Sometimes Douglas would go out God knows where for a few hours which gave Martin time. If he couldn’t get hold of something sharp, hitting would do. Slamming his fists down on his skinny arms, watching the bruises bloom like flowers. Douglas would return all too soon, give some sarcastic comment and then turn the lights out sharply and fall asleep. Martin would be left in the dark turning over whatever Douglas said that time in his head and pressing on the bruises or the cuts until he fell asleep.
Sitting on a lumpy mattress in a hotel room that was Michelin starred compared to some of the ones Carolyn booked them into, he began raking his nails across his arm in frustration. It had been too long and Douglas hadn’t gone out this time and Carolyn had shouted at him again and the boy who used to bully him in year four was calling him a loser and his dad looked disappointed and...and...and he really, really, really wanted to scream. Four red lines were appearing on his skin below the bandage his sleeve was concealing. The sound of the shower resonated through the room. His patience was being torn to shreds by it, and Martin considered himself a very patient man, with a first officer like Douglas, he had to be.
Fill: Part 3 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)His hands shook a little as he placed the knife to his arm next to the cut he made a few days ago. He pressed down harder than usual, overcompensating for the slight bluntness to the blade, and pulled, hard. He let out a small gasp as he felt the metal catch on his skin and tear it away. The voice of the boy in year four seemed to be torn away with it. He put the knife back in place and pressed again. Spots of blood appeared along the cut and he felt lighter somehow. He closed his eyes and heard Carolyn asking him to give Douglas his captain’s hat again and pressed the knife in.
“Martin?”
His eyes shot open and he turned to see Douglas with an uncharacteristic expression of shock. Carolyn’s voice seemed to have run for the hills at the intrusion and Martin became suddenly aware that he was still holding the knife to the steadily bleeding cut. Douglas took a step forward and that did it. Martin dropped everything and bolted, as fast as his legs could carry him, out of the bathroom, out of the hotel room, all the time clutching his arm.
Douglas was left staring at the patch of floor where Martin had been and where the knife had fallen with a clatter, scattering spots of blood from its edge. Douglas knelt down and lightly brushed the handle with his fingertips. It was still warm from where it had been clasped so tightly in Martin’s hand. He saw the bandage thrown into a corner, bloodstained. He let out a puff of air.
“Oh Martin.”
He rose to leave and turned back just as he reached the door, grabbing the shirt he’d left behind before. That’s all he’d gone in there for.
Martin found himself in a park not far from the hotel. He was shaking and crying and clutching at his arm tightly, he wasn’t surprised that people were avoiding him and eyeing him with suspicion. The image of Douglas’ face was burning itself into his retinas. The shock, the confusion, he’d never seen that in his features before. His mind was also telling him that there had been a faint note of disgust lurking in his eyes, but he ignored it, knowing what his mind was doing.
He didn’t notice the time passing. It was a sort of haze of people and dogs that got progressively more lost in the fading light. He was brought back to awareness by a presence cautiously making itself known with a small cough. He tentatively looked out the corner of his eye and tensed. It was Douglas.
Fill: Part 4 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)“It’s getting late. Do you what time it is?”
No reply.
“You must be cold.” Douglas placed Martin’s captain’s jacket over his shoulders, hoping the stripes would bring him back. It worked.
“A bit, yes,” he replied quietly, slipping his arms into the sleeves carefully. The vision of Douglas’ surprise was still there, the disgust his imagination was supplying heightened. He risked a turn of his head for a proper look at Douglas, just to see. But all that was there was concern, it almost frightened him, how sincere Douglas looked.
“Ready to come back to the hotel?” Martin nodded and followed Douglas’ steady pace along the path.
“I’m sorry,” Martin told Douglas’ back when they were nearly at the main entrance. Douglas stopped suddenly and turned. Martin shrank away. Douglas sighed.
“Later,” he said firmly. Martin didn’t do anything, not wanting to commit. Douglas nodded for him and carried on walking.
Back in the hotel room, Douglas left Martin alone on the bed to gather his thoughts while he set about cleaning the knife and finding fresh bandages. When everything was sorted he called Martin to him and watched him shuffle like a frightened child to the doorway. Martin saw the sink full of warm water and the small first aid kit balanced on the bath and took a step back.
“I was a medical student, remember,” Douglas soothed. “I just want to see the one you made tonight, that’s all.”
“Nothing else?” Martin asked, stepping back into the room.
“Nothing else,” Douglas replied solemnly. “Scout’s honour.”
Martin smiled before he could help himself and walked over to Douglas, rolling up his sleeve carefully. The nail marks were still there too, but true to his word Douglas ignored them. He picked up a flannel, wetted it and carefully applied it to the cut, wiping away the dried blood. Martin winced slightly.
“Sorry,” Douglas said, rinsing the flannel and reapplying it.
“No, it’s...it’s fine,” Martin replied. He’d never been as careful as Douglas was being when he cleaned the cuts himself. It was shockingly soothing.
Douglas contemplated the cut that was weeping slightly, pondering if a bandage was necessary. He thought about the other cuts he’d seen and decided to err on the side of caution.
“Do you want to do this yourself?” Douglas asked, bandage in hand. “It would be easier if you did the whole forearm and covered the other cuts as well.”
Martin considered for a minute, mildly shocked at the unexpected consideration.
“I...no...I think it would be better if you did it, medical training and everything, but can I just...”
“What?”
“Can I just...do the first bit? Cover them up first.” Martin’s cheeks flushed red. Douglas just smiled kindly.
“Of course. I’ll clean out the sink.”
Douglas turned round and busied himself with making sure none of the blood in the water or on the flannel lingered while Martin pressed the fabric to the cuts and wound the bandage around a couple of times.
“Alright?” Douglas asked, still turned away.
“Yeah, if you could finish it off.”
So Douglas did just that, softly brushing his fingers on Martin’s arm, trying not to move the skin too much.
“There,” he said as he finished up. “Okay?” Martin nodded.
“Well,” Douglas continued. “Time for bed I think.” Martin nodded again and turned to leave when something occurred to him.
“Umm,” he began. Douglas raised his eyebrows in question. “The knife...did you...”
“I’ve taken care of it.” Martin thanked him and retreated to his bed.
Fill: Part 5 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)“It really is late, Martin. In the morning, okay?” he reasoned, sliding under the covers on his own bed. Martin did the same.
“Alright,” he said sleepily, deciding he could probably avoid questions better when he was less exhausted anyway. The accusing voices were still absent as he drifted into sleep. He was thankful for small mercies.
When he was sure Martin was asleep, Douglas rolled over in his bed to contemplate him. The fluffy hair pushed in all directions by the pillow. The pale skin against the shocking shade of blue bed sheets. The left arm nestled in the sheets, shirt sleeve riding down but still only just covering the crisp white bandage with intermittent spots of red. He thought about how Martin looked, leaning against the greying bath. Despite the cut and the knife he held against it, his face had been placid, blank, almost serene. It wasn’t right.
He didn’t pretend to understand. He knew he couldn’t quantify why people did that to themselves. He knew Martin had his problems but it was Martin. Miserable, yes, but sensible, dependable to the point of irritation. He was a man who knew that you had to have nineteen passengers before you required a steward and who actually filled in his log book, regularly. He revised SOPs because he enjoyed it. The man he sat next to and teased mercilessly on the flight deck was not the sort of man who would go home and lay into his arm with a blade. He just wasn’t.
Douglas slowly fell asleep pondering on how well he really knew Martin. And whether the person sleeping fitfully in front of him was the real Martin or whether that was the man he shared the cheese tray with. He wasn’t sure. And that scared him a bit. That for the first time, he really wasn’t sure.
The dull burn of his arm was not unusual when he woke up. On overnight stays it was usually less searing, more a pain straining to burst out his skin and make itself know, but it couldn’t, because Martin hadn’t freed it yet. Prizing his eyes open to bright sunshine was also not unusual. It didn’t happen much at his flat, but that was Britain for you. Opening his eyes fully to see Douglas staring down at him with a serious face; now that, that was unusual.
“Morning,” Douglas said tonelessly. Martin groaned.
“What?” Douglas asked, face softening slightly.
“I had hoped that it was just a bad dream,” Martin replied sadly.
“Ah. ‘Fraid not. You alright?”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Douglas gave him a look. “What? I really am fine. Perhaps I wasn’t last night, but I am now.”
“Alright then.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past seven.”
“Not long until we have to leave then.”
“Oh we have a couple of hours yet,” Douglas said dangerously.
“Douglas...”
“No, Martin listen, and for God’s sake savour it. I don’t understand.”
“Douglas...” Martin breathed.
“Shush, Martin. I don’t understand, and I never don’t understand. So I want to understand and I’d like you to help me. Might even help you, talking it through.”
“I...I don’t think...I don’t really know how to...”
“Try, Martin.”
“N...no.”
“What?”
“I...,” he gulped. “I don’t want to.”
“Martin.”
“No, Douglas. This is one thing you won’t bully me into. I don’t want to and that’s that. Now I’m going to go down for some breakfast. I hope you join me later.”
Fill: Part 6 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)Unlike Martin, he washed and changed at a leisurely pace, arriving at the breakfast table looking considerably more impressive and, well, like a captain, than the real captain did. Martin seemed to take this a threat and narrowed his eyes at Douglas. Carolyn was unmoved and Arthur was too busy diving into a bowl of what were once cornflakes, several past lives ago, to notice.
“About time too,” Carolyn said tetchily. Douglas just sat down and smiled. Martin pushed his chin down to his chest, looking forlorn. Douglas got that uncertain feeling back in his chest, watching Martin pick at a piece of toast.
“Not eating Martin?” Douglas asked, letting a hint of concern seep in to his voice.
“Not hungry,” Martin mumbled. He looked up at Douglas with an apologetic smile. Douglas felt he was more in the dark then than he had been while he was watching Martin sleep. He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.
“Post take-off checks complete.”
“Thank you, Douglas.”
Silence descended. A thick, awkward silence. Douglas observed Martin keenly out of the corner of his eye, he was absently rubbing at his forearm. Then he pressed down suddenly and let out a hiss of air through his teeth.
“Martin.”
“Sorry. I was in a world of my own.”
“Yes, I saw.”
“The answer is still no, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Look, I don’t know how to explain it anyway, even if I wanted to,” Martin blurted out after a pause.
“Alright.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t say anything, you know.”
“I know.”
“I won’t give up.” Martin nodded mournfully.
“I know.
“Six hours left.”
“Yep.”
“You’re doing remarkably well.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s the van business?” Douglas asked rapidly.
“Fine.”
“Keeping up with money alright?”
“Yes.”
“Carolyn still not paying you.”
“No.”
“Still keeping up to date with paperwork.” The questions were coming at a breakneck pace, barely giving Martin time to consider his answer.
“Of course.”
“When did it start?”
“When I was...oooh. No you don’t.”
“Well it was worth a try.” Martin didn’t dignify that with a response.
Fill: Part 7 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)“I really think it’s best not to ask. Ignorance is bliss, Martin.”
“Yes, Douglas. It is,” he said pointedly. Douglas raised a sardonic eyebrow and poked the grey...thing on his plate, just making sure it wasn’t alive. Martin eyed the more orange concoction on his plate and made a face of disgust. They both looked at each other.
“Arthur!” they called in unison.
“Yes chaps,” he grinned, bounding into the flight deck.
“Biscuits. Now.”
“Oh,” he said, looking a little crestfallen. “Not good then?”
“Well let’s just say it’s not the finest example of your cooking.”
“Oh. Okay. Be right back.”
“Was that cruel do you think?” Martin asked. Douglas eyed him.
“Do you think it was?”
“Maybe a little.”
The biscuits arrived promptly with an apology in the form of two cups of coffee and an Arthur that beamed when Martin said he was getting better at making the coffee and an Arthur that then bounced away humming.
“That was nice,” Douglas said after a while. Martin made a non-committal noise. “Felt a little sorry for him, did you?”
“A bit. He does his best.”
“Like you.”
“Douglas.”
“Recognised something of yourself in our dear steward?”
“Douglas, you are not going to force me into a discussion about this.”
“Look, Martin. I saw you cutting away at your arm yesterday. I don’t understand why.”
“It helps.”
“But why and with what?”
“Oh just...you wouldn’t understand.”
“Exactly, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I want to, though.”
“But...no matter what I say... you just wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.” Martin looked at him, searching, trying to find something in Douglas’ face. Whatever it was though, he didn’t see it and sighed.
“You’re you, Douglas. The wonderful sky God Douglas Richardson,” he looked away. “You just wouldn’t get it.”
Douglas sighed in exasperation.
“Maybe if you just started from the beginning.”
“Douglas,” Martin began looking back at Douglas with pleading eyes. “Please. Let it go.”
“Four hours.”
“Yep.”
“Two hundred and forty minutes.”
“Well done.”
“Martin...”
“Oh Douglas I am tired of this.”
“Look at me. It’s hard. If the past three hours in a confined space with you has taught me anything it’s that it’s hard. To talk about it and to forget about it. You’ve been playing with your shirt cuff incessantly.”
“Oh, have I?”
“Yes. But think about it. I know now, and I won’t let it go, you know that. Wouldn’t it be better to just talk it through? It might help you. And you can lay whatever ground rules you feel necessary.”
“Really?” Martin asked, wary.
“Absolutely.”
“It will work better if you ask questions I think, I don’t really know what to say otherwise.”
“Alright.”
“But if I don’t want to answer you can’t force me. If I don’t know then, well, I don’t know. Okay?”
“Fine.”
“You promise?”
“Of course.”
“Right. Okay.” He took a deep shaky breath and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“When did it start?”
“My first cut was when I was fifteen. I was bullied at school, of course. It was the fourteenth of November. It was just something one of them said. They’d been calling me names for years but something about that time was different. I remember crying, a lot. And I went into the kitchen and found one of the sharp knifes my dad used to peel potatoes. It was small, easy to hide. I remember putting it to my wrist and I remember how scared I was at how good it felt, how it made everything go away so easily. I mean afterwards I felt awful. Guilty, shifty, I thought everyone knew and was looking at me strangely. I thought my dad looked disappointed in me every time I saw him. Funny thing is, I can’t remember what the boys said. It’s like someone has deleted the memory. I think I prefer it that way, to be honest.”
“So it started when you were fifteen. You’re what thirty four now? That’s nineteen years, Martin.”
Fill: Part 8 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)“Did it continue when you failed again?”
“Yes, it got steadily worse, really until...”
“Until?”
“Well I probably should have gone to hospital but I didn’t want anyone to know. I was scared of people knowing. Still am, by the way. But it wouldn’t stop bleeding and as every minute went by, I panicked more. But then it did stop, eventually. I was so tired, I’d lost quite a lot of blood, I cleaned up as best I could then collapsed on the sofa. I woke up about thirty five hours later. I toyed with the idea of going to A and E, but...well the thought really did scare me. So I didn’t bother.”
“You worked through it? Even losing that amount of blood?”
“Yeah. Made of stronger stuff then you thought, aren’t I?” Douglas chuckled and nodded.
“So what about recently then? How long?”
“Since joining MJN...about a year I suppose. It felt good at the start, I was a captain. Then Carolyn made it perfectly clear what she thought of me, and I want getting paid anyway and well the only person here who seems to think I’m worth anything is Arthur. And he barely counts.”
“That’s not true, Martin.” Martin smiled at him weakly, the smile not getting within a mile of his eyes.
“Anyway after a bad trip, I don’t think it matters which one, I took a razor blade and well, it made it go away a bit. And I could sleep again, after that.”
“So it’s been continuing since then?”
“Yeah pretty much. I suppose it’s been progressing but not much, not like it did when I kept failing my exams. But...”
“But?”
“I don’t know. You only found out because I got careless. I never get careless.”
“No, I don’t imagine you do.”
“You don’t understand. It’s getting to a stage where I can’t go for more than a few days without hurting myself, it doesn’t even matter how anymore. You found me because I needed to hurt so badly I’d been scratching at my arm all the time you were in the shower.”
“Ah. I thought they were nail marks.”
“Yes. It’s not been like this before. Usually I have a reason, a need, a bad day or something someone said triggering a memory, something, but on the days where things have actually gone reasonably well, there’s still an itch. And it keeps getting worse, it’s like I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. I don’t like it but...”
“But you can’t do without it.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“See, I told you talking would help.” Martin let out a laugh.
“Yes, I wondered how long it would take you to say ‘I told you so’.”
“Twenty six minutes, but who’s counting?” Martin laughed again.
“Well that’s the timescale part done. Now for the bit really don’t understand. Why?”
“It just helps.”
“But why? How? How can that possibly help?”
“It just...it lets me sleep.”
“You don’t need that to sleep.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I know,” Douglas said, irritably.
“It shuts the voices up,” Martin said suddenly. Douglas stared at him, open mouthed. “Oh don’t look at me like that, that isn’t what I meant. When I’ve had a particularly bad day all I can think about is Carolyn shouting at me or one of my clients angry that I chipped his paintwork or was late. Or the boys at my school or...”
“Or?”
Fill: Part 9 (Trigger warning)
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)“I see,” Douglas said eventually.
“Really?”
“Well...”
“It just builds up. Feelings of worthlessness I suppose and then they manifest themselves as voices, recent or from memory, that keep repeating and won’t go away. The voices then become more solid, and the shouting keeps getting louder and louder. Having a physical sensation like pain to drag focus away from the voices means that they usually go away; leading to a fairly peaceful night’s sleep. Fairly.”
“That was surprisingly scientific of you. Detached really.”
“Sometimes you have to be,” Martin snapped.
“Alright, alright.”
“But do you see now?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Good. Question time over then.”
“Perhaps.”
“Douglas.”
“Martin. It’s not the way.”
“It’s my way.”
“It’s not the way.”
“I just...it works and its minimum risk compared to...”
“Compared to what?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Douglas leant forward in his seat.
“Martin.” He looked away. “Martin, what happened?”
“I went out and got drunk, really drunk. Really, really bad day. I was trying not to cut. I felt guilty about the last time, so I went to a club and got pissed. Some guy came up to me and brought me some more drinks.”
“Oh. Please tell me...”
“I don’t remember. I really don’t. I woke up on the floor of my flat, but there were bruises on my wrists and I know I didn’t put them there. It scared me. Almost as much when the cut wouldn’t stop bleeding. I decided then that cutting was better for me.”
“How long ago was this?”
“About five months.”
“Bloody hell, Martin. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Couldn’t. It was my own fault.” Douglas sighed and leant back in his chair. A weather warning crackled at them. Martin answered, listlessly. The silence resumed, neither of them willing to look at the other.
“Three hours.”
“Yep.”
“Douglas...”
“Martin.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I...for...”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“I suppose not.”
“Then why apologise?”
“Default setting I think.”
The silence returned, but it was slightly more companionable. They slowly settled into a game, which Martin lost, predictably. But they were both smiling at the end of it. Arthur came in with two more coffees and Douglas was even nice to him. He left looking like he had springs on his shoes. Martin smiled at Douglas as a silent thanks. Douglas felt emboldened.
“I think you should stop.” Douglas was afraid Martin would be annoyed and become defensive, instead he just looked defeated.
“I have tried. I relapse. Every time.”
“Ah, but you always did it alone, I’m guessing.”
“Yes, of course I did. And you don’t guess, Douglas.”
“As demonstrated by me being right.” Martin rolled his eyes. “Anyway, this time will be different.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll help you.”
“How?”
“However I can.”
“But...why?”
“Believe it or not, I like you. I value you as a friend and a captain. MJN would be lost without you. Carolyn would never find another pilot willing to work for free.”
“True,” Martin said with a slightly bitter laugh. “So, how?”
“I suggest we try the commemoration approach.”
“What?”
“You are familiar with the concept of friendship bracelets, yes? Well we get some thread and tie a knot in it for every say week you go without hurting yourself. If you cut one week, we start again with a new piece of thread.”
“I think I see. But what about...”
“You do what you haven’t done for nineteen years. You talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but you always try with someone or even just keeping a diary. If your feelings building up was a problem, don’t let them.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“I know. But you’ll try won’t you?” A pained look flitted across Martin’s eyes.
“I’ll think about it.”
Fill: Part 10 (Trigger warning) last part
(Anonymous) 2011-01-31 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)“Number seven,” Martin remarked, incredulous.
“I’m proud of you Martin,” Douglas smiled. Martin’s face coloured but he smiled back all the same.
“Have you kept the others?”
“Yeah. They’re sellotaped to the box in my bedside table. Whenever I reach for it I see them. It usually works.”
He fiddled with the thread around his wrist, counting each knot with his fingers, twice. He had a bemused smile on his face and this time it made his eyes light up. Douglas couldn’t stop beaming at him. He’d come far in the seven months and he was getting better, even he could see that now. It didn’t mean that he didn’t relapse occasionally, but the day he’d come to Douglas with a still bleeding cut, apologies tumbling out of his mouth through the tears, Douglas had sat him down, cleaned the cut and told him he was making progress. Martin had stared at him, confused, so it was Douglas’ turn to explain. He told Martin that coming to tell him that he’d cut again wasn’t something he would have done a few weeks ago. He wasn’t hiding it anymore, he was seeking help, and that counted for something.
“I thought after the first thread, that I’d never make it,” Martin said, still counting the knots. The first thread had only got as far as one knot, just, and then Martin had broken down on an overnight stay in New York. Douglas had made him go to hospital that time. He never wanted to see that much blood again.
“I told you it would get better.” Martin raised an eyebrow at Douglas. “Thirty seven minutes,” Douglas chuckled. Martin joined in, after a pause.
“Thank you,” Martin said quietly, when the laughter had run its course. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t found out.” Martin hung his head. “You’re welcome, Martin. I’m glad I could help.”
The soft smile was back. Douglas preferred it that way. He leant back in his seat, looking out on the bright horizon. They heard the sound of the service bell for the fourteenth time since the flight began.
“Twenty quid says Carolyn strangles a passenger before we land,” Douglas smirked. Martin giggled.
“If we have any passengers left when we land it’ll be a miracle.”
“We could put it on our brochure again.”
“What the plane littered with bodies or Carolyn actually killing someone?”
“I think Carolyn killing someone in a plane littered with bodies.” They both laughed a bit too loudly.
“We’ll it’d certainly grab people’s attention,” Martin said still laughing.
“Precisely. And it would put the fear of God into anyone foolish enough to fly with us.”
“I’ll let you suggest that one to her though.”
“Oh? I thought I was witnessing a new Martin.”
“Which is precisely why I’m not engaging in a foolhardy venture. Besides, I am deferring to the better pilot.”
“Hmm, touché,” Douglas replied.
They heard Carolyn storming back into the galley and then proceed to berate Arthur rather loudly. Turns out he’d mistaken a passenger’s request for iced water and frozen a glass of water for them instead. Douglas and Martin had never laughed so hard.
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okaaaaay that was longer than i'd though, sorry about that :)
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(Anonymous) 2011-02-01 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Part 10 (Trigger warning) last part
author anon here
(Anonymous) 2011-02-02 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Part 10 (Trigger warning) last part
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I've never cut myself, but I can understand why Martin would resort to it after bottling up all of his feelings. I'm glad that Douglas played the part of a hero so well without being corny or stereotypical.
Basically, this is a splendid piece of work. :) Great job.
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(Anonymous) 2011-03-07 09:44 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Part 10 (Trigger warning) last part
Thank you so much for the fill. It was brilliant. ♥
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(Anonymous) 2011-08-19 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)Thank you.
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Also, I loved your Douglas – very calm and accepting, but absolutely determined to understand.
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