Chapter Text
"Yes, Martin, I see how one could took you for an ATC tower, in that hat especially, but I think I'd prefer to rely on our usual sources..."
That was, of course, Douglas's way of telling Martin that he isn't interested in his attempt at talking about weather, the final chord in a long stream of teasing the Captain who wants to be the Captain more than he wants his salary. The usual sarcasm on the usual topic that got an unusual reaction anyway...
His expression neither hurt nor amusing, but suddenly deeply in thought, as if he was doing some complicated equations, Martin slowly turned to face Douglas, "Could you repeat what you've just said?
"I said", was the slow response, "that I'm calling tower for weather report"
"No, not that, your exact words please?"
"I believe that listening to your co-pilot is a crucial ability for the captain, during the flight especially, but if you insist - I think that in your cap you really look like that mushroom-shaped ATC in Beijing Airport. Why?"
Martin said nothing, just bit his lower lip, still deep in thought.
***
"Martin, you are a real clot, you know that? Diverting because of anti-icing system failure, doesn't ring a bell? God, even a little warning light can outwit you! Twice! With the same trick!"
Douglas observed his Captain's face during that little tirade - which was rather unfair - , and didn't understand what he saw. There was nothing. One could say that Martin was calm, but with calmness there is always some inner peace . Martin was... Bored? Blank? Distant? His vocabulary lacked the right word for it.
Martin looked at Carolyn with some interest, but unmoved. Maybe it was a face of a scientist who looked at his mice or green liquid boiling in a flask
"Carolyn, I think that to avoid such expences in future we should just spend a bit of money on a proper engineering check now", came Martin's voice, low and very polite, "I can’t rely on warning lights that may or may not reflect reality."
Carolyn stared. Apparently, her vocabulary let her down, too.
***
"And Skip, here’s the surprise for you, ta-daaaam!", Arthur extended a box with three cheesecakes, " All of them!"
Martin observed the cakes. "Thank you, Arthur, I’m not really hungry"
"Take them, please!"
With a faint smile and a polite nod, Martin took one of the cakes.
Douglas felt suddenly worried. "Hey, chief, when was the last time you had a meal? I haven’t seen you eating anything today".
Martin paused. "Good question. Maybe I actually haven't."
"Wow, you haven’t eaten for a day and you don’t feel hungry? That’s amazing!", cried Arthur.
"Yes, amazing enough to consult a therapist immediately. It’s good to be Arthur..", Douglas thought. He knew that stuff. When you're depressed, you're separated from your feelings and needs. One prof from medical college called it “neighbours own the landline”: that meant that you must consult your memory or even maske notes to get information that you used to obtain directly from your feelings: the cold, the heat, the hunger. As if you don’t have the phone and have to go to the neighbours to make phone calls.
"Probably I really need to eat.", continued Martin, almost as amused as Arthur. "Maybe it will improve my reactions a bit, I’ve got slower in last two hours."
Douglas closed his eyes. Depressed pilots can’t fly. And any inspection would certainly notice that depression.