Chapter Text
Ed Nygma had never enjoyed flying. For an already anxious man, the concept of getting locked in a pressurized container and getting shot into the sky was almost too much to handle.
But he'd had urgent business in Metropolis, which required the fastest mode of transport available, there and back. And thus here he was scanning his boarding pass to be let onto what Ed was almost certain would be the machination of his demise.
Past the boarding gate was a long ramp leading to the plane proper. There was a small line of people waiting to board, so Ed had to wait halfway down. The covered ramp didn’t seal completely against the aircraft so the Gotham chill still crept in. Ed regretted leaving his jacket at home.
He pulled out his small tape deck and put his earphones in. Classical music took over the loud screams of the jet engines warming up and the murmur of disgruntled passengers.
This obliviousness to his surroundings meant that Ed almost fell over as a man pushed past him swiftly. He caught himself on the railing and glared after the stranger.
A small boy hurried after the man, looking extremely apologetic. He grimaced at Ed before following after the shorter man.
Ed clenched his fists before exhaling shakily. At least I’ll never have to see him again… he thought.
But luck was not on his side. As he stepped onto the plane, his ticket led him straight to the angry man and small boy.
Finally getting a good look at him, Ed had to admit that the man was fascinating. He had spiky black hair that seemed to give the middle finger to gravity and go where it pleased. His nose seemed pointed, akin to a beak, which seemed to be a theme because the man also held a cane with a bird’s head as the handle. His purple suit was immaculate, screaming wealth and luxury.
No one was supposed to look this good at an airport.
Ed looked down at his own rumpled khakis and sweater before sighing. He couldn’t even hope to compare to this… being.
It seemed that Ed had been staring for too long as the stylish man glared up at him suddenly. “Is there anything you need?”
His voice was like velvet, but held a dangerous cadence. Ed swallowed.
“My seat.” He pointed at the empty chair in between the window and the child.
There was a heavy pause. People behind Ed started to complain loudly about the holdup.
The man seemed to chew on the inside of his cheek before struggling to stand up. The boy helped him before climbing out into the aisle to give Ed room to sit down. He thanked both of them and slid in easily. One of the few benefits of being so skinny, he thought ruefully.
The boy plopped back down next to Ed before scribbling on a notepad attached to his neck.
Ed had been leafing through all the safety instruction manuals in the pocket in front of him before he felt a slight tapping on his arm. He turned.
The small, curly haired boy was holding up his notepad and pointing to it.
‘My name is Martin. Whats yours?’
Ed looked over at the boys’ father who seemed to be going through some e-mails on his phone.
“My name is Ed. What a lovely name, Martin.” He smiled down at the boy, but heard a huff from the other chair.
“It’s pronounced Mar-teen. Get it right if you want to speak to my son.”
Martin glared at his father before scribbling another note for Ed.
‘Don’t mind him, he hates airplanes.’
The child was quickly earning a soft spot in Ed’s heart. He seemed so concerned about keeping the peace between the two adults. He must be used to it, with such a cold father.
“Thank you, Martin.” Ed made sure to pronounce the name right, his gaze flicking to the father. No response. “I also am not a fan of air planes.”
Martin gave him a pitying look. ’They’re not all that bad. I’ll help you through the takeoff, if you’d like?’
Ed chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “I would appreciate that very much. You seem to know an awful lot about flying.”
‘Oh yes! I used to fly around the country a lot, before Oswald adopted me.’ Martin grinned at his father before turning back to Ed. ‘I want to be a pilot when I grow up.’
Ed took a mental note of the name. Oswald. Seemed fitting. “How interesting. Have you read any books about flying?”
Martin shook his head.
“You should! I love books, they’ve taught me practically everything I know.”
Ed pulled out the book he’d been reading, a study of how lifelong diets affected the decomposition of dead bodies. He was suddenly thankful that the cover didn’t have an image. But there were diagrams inside, so he only briefly flipped through some pages.
The boy seemed excited, grabbing for the book before Ed could stop him.
Martin browsed slowly, inspecting each page he came across. A few rather… unpleasant pictures passed but the child didn’t seem disgusted. In fact he seemed intrigued.
Ed looked nervously at the other man, but he seemed to have closed his eyes. His head was leant back, his sharp nose on full display. At least he wasn’t glaring at them any more.
Before Ed could explain some of the concepts, the lights switched off and the pilot came over the intercom to announce their departure.
The effect was immediate. Ed’s spine tensed, sitting him upright. His fingers curled around the armrests so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Before he could start panicking he was distracted by a green foil dancing in his face. Ed focused on it. Martin was waving a stick of gum before him, offering it enthusiastically.
As Ed grabbed it, Martin started scribbling on his page again. ‘Chew it. It helps with the depressurization. Pops your ears.’
Only now did Ed realize both the boy and his father were chewing gum. He grinned, impressed. Martin smiled back as Ed stuck the piece in his mouth.
‘Do you have any music to listen to?’ The boy was eyeing Ed’s tape player which was clipped to his belt. ‘You should listen to it when we take off. The engines get really loud. It’ll help.’
Ed couldn’t believe this kid was being so nice to him, guiding him through his anxiety. Usually he would be offended by someone assuming they knew more than him, but for some reason Martin’s genuine concern allowed Ed to ignore his pride.
He followed what Martin said, starting his tape up again. He raised the volume until the roar of the jet engines were just a low hum in the background. Ed paced his breathing to the upbeat tempo of Haydn’s String Quartet No. 64 in D Major. He tapped his feat in time. One breath per six beats. In. Out.
Looking over at Martin found the boy holding hands with his father. The man seemed asleep, but he was still gripping his son’s hand tensely.
Martin seemed to notice him looking so he reached over and grabbed Ed’s hand as well. The boy squeezed it, causing Ed to smile.
Since he had the window seat, Ed peered out to watch the plane line up with the dull blue lights along the runway. It took a few minutes for the plane to navigate the maze as it maneuvered to the long takeoff lane.
Suddenly the plane jolted forward, and the sound of air roaring past the window broke through the concerto in Ed’s ear and he yelped. The aircraft was racing down and Ed couldn’t help but calculate how much of the runway was left.
A squeeze on his hand whipped his head around, and Martin was staring at him. Both his hands were being held so he couldn’t write anything but the boy’s face seemed to say ‘it’ll be okay. I promise.’
When Ed turned back towards the window, the ground was miles below them and the city was already shrinking in the distance.
He’d survived the takeoff.