A/N: Well, it's almost one in the morning, but this story is finally finished! I know I said it would be 12 chapters and an epilogue, but in the end I decided it would be better to have it all at once. So this is the well and truly absolutely final chapter, aww- but it is double length! I've had a lot of fun writing this, but I'm glad I was able to finish it before Series Four got too far under way. (Without spoilering too much, certain ships are now well underway, and shipping hard XD) Thank you all for reading and I hope you've enjoyed!

Chapter Twelve

"Carolyn, get your coat." Douglas said, marching into the office.

"Why, where are we going? Why are you in uniform?"

"We're going to go and get Martin to come back!" Arthur said, getting her coat off the hook and holding it eagerly out to her. "You're coming too."

"I most certainly am not." Carolyn turned to Douglas, trying to appeal to him. "What happened to Martin being better off without us?"

"Nonsense." Douglas dismissed. "It's Martin, his rotten luck is bound to catch up with him eventually either way; isn't it better he has it doing what he loves?"

"No, absolutely not! I'm not going begging to Martin just because you want a captain you can bully."

"Yes, alright, I do." Douglas said, impatiently holding the coat out. "But I rather think you do as well, Carolyn, so stop being so stubborn, swallow your pride and put your coat on."

"…No."

"Fine, then I'll resign."

"Oh, don't be so stupid." She laughed. "Forgive me, Douglas, but I don't believe you're about to fall on your sword for Martin."

"I'm not, but equally I would find shelf stacking preferable to working one more flight with Morris. So, if we don't at least try to get Martin back, I'll resign."

"Yeah, me too!" Arthur chipped in.

"Arthur!"

"We can't go on like this, Carolyn." Douglas said. "Admit it."

"Oh, alright!" She snapped, pulling her coat on. "Let's go then, before I change my mind." Douglas smiled and held the door open for her, knowing that she had wanted to all along. At least it hadn't been too difficult to overcome her pride. She had probably been waiting for them to change her mind for her.

oooooooooo

"No no no no no! No, no, you can't be here! No, go away!"

"Well, that's a charming welcome." Douglas said. "Why shouldn't we be here?"

"Because… you're just here to bother me." Martin said, fully aware of how lame his answer sounded. He had been quite happily going about his business, doing a gap check out in the shop, letting the work take over his mind and distract from the awkwardness with Liz and from his usual refuge, which was daydreaming about flying. He had always comforted himself that way, ever since he was a child. He would dream of being in the air and feel better; but that day, it was just too much. He couldn't think about flying without thinking about the mistake he had almost made, about MJN Air. His mind kept circling around the question of whether he had made a mistake in leaving. His resolve was already ready to crumble, the last thing he needed was his old colleagues turning up at his workplace to rub his face in it. He could feel his palms starting to sweat as he glanced around nervously, looking for Suzanne. He just knew they were going to cause a scene.

"This place is brilliant, Skip!" Arthur said cheerfully, looking at the model planes. "I can see why you like it here."

"Yes, Arthur, perhaps you should lead the persuading to us." Douglas said.

"Persuading?" Martin asked. "Persuading for what?"

"Well-" Douglas began.

"Wait, you know what, save it." Martin said, going back to his clipboard. "I'm at work. I can't just stand around here chatting!"

"Why not, it's all you did at MJN." Carolyn brushed his protests aside. "Now, Martin, just stop it. I'm willing to put all this ridiculousness behind us, so if you show up for work tomorrow we'll forget all about it."

"What? Carolyn, no, I can't."

"Why not?" Arthur butted in. "Don't you miss it?"

"Of course I do." Martin sighed, his clipboard going limp in his arms as he realised it was useless to deny it. "But that's not the point, Arthur. Let's face it, I wasn't very good."

"You don't need to be!" Douglas was outraged. "Martin, we both know I'm good enough for the both of us. You're just there to work the intercom and wear the captain's hat."

"Douglas, you know I can't come back!"

"I don't see why not. Carolyn's willing and so am I." Douglas paused, wondering if he would really have to say it. It seemed so. "If you must know, Martin, I trust you. Given the amount of textbooks you have memorised, there's no-one I would feel safer flying with in an emergency, assuming you stopped panicking enough to remember what you know. After all, you did land Gerti perfectly in your sleep."

"Though I'd rather you didn't make a habit of that." Carolyn said quickly.

"You're a good pilot, Skipper. You're brilliant." Arthur said. "It's what you were born to do."

Martin found to his eternal shame that his eyes were growing warm. He turned quickly towards the shelf, pretending to count the Ducksford Air Museum coasters, trying not to cry. He had wanted to hear those words all his life, and they could have made him so happy- but what use were they now? It felt almost physically painful, he felt winded by it. It took a few deep breaths before he could answer.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I can't. I made my choice… I've started building a life. I have to go, we're about to close." He turned to flee for the refuge of the back room, but Carolyn grabbed his arm.

"Alright, Martin, that's enough." She said, her tones clipped. Martin recognised she was about to lose her temper and pulled his arm free. "If you insist on my saying it I will- we need you. Alright? We need you. Now stop being so silly and come back to work."

"Need me? What happened to your new pilot?"

"Nothing happened to him. Goodness only knows he's far too professional for that." Carolyn sniffed. "He is entirely professional at all times, too professional for MJN Air or his own good, so professional that he thinks he can run the business better than I can."

"Oh." Martin said. Carolyn glared at him, apparently able to hear him thinking that perhaps Morris could. He performed the best manoeuvre he could, and even that was stumbling. "Well, if he can help make MJN successful, that's good, isn't it?"

"But he's really mean!" Arthur blurted. Martin was shocked, and immediately his brain jumped to the worst conclusions. He wondered if Morris had actually committed a terribly violent crime in order to gain such an assessment. However, his transgressions turned out to be so minor, Martin could relax. "He made me kill the spiders! And he won't let me wear my hat!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Arthur, but we really shouldn't have cobwebs on the plane and your hat is… well…"

"He also nagged and nagged me so much," Douglas said when Martin's search for an adjective suitable for Arthur's hat failed. "I was forced to fill in my log book."

Martin stared at him, feeling his heart sink, which must be the cause of the sudden nausea turning in his stomach. In spite of their complaints, it seemed like Morris was a better Captain than him. He had actually convinced Douglas to fill in his log book, which meant Douglas must have seen-

"Incidentally, Martin…" Douglas cleared his throat. "Thanks."

"Oh. You're welcome. B-but…" He took a deep steadying breath, trying to blow the thoughts out of his mind that were clamouring at him to go back with them. "I really can't. It sounds like he's a good captain. Even if he is difficult to get used to, I'm sure in the end-"

"That's not what he said about you." Douglas interrupted.

Martin knew he should ignore it, but he couldn't. He had always wanted an actual professional's opinion on his work. "Why? What did he say?"

"He said we had been tragically mismanaged as a crew." Douglas said, perfectly straight faced. "Oh, and he said our operations and safety procedures were dangerously outdated and inadequate."

"But… I reviewed all of them, a few weeks before I left. I used the latest CAA guidelines, there's nothing wrong with them."

Martin was wavering, Carolyn could tell. She held her breath, letting Douglas handle it and praying Arthur would too. After all, manipulating Martin was Douglas' special skill.

"Nevertheless, that's what he said. He's updating them as we speak."

"But there's nothing wrong with them! What is there to change?!"

"How should I know?"

"He must have it wrong…" Martin said, glancing at his watch. "I finish in ten minutes, will he still be at the airfield?" Douglas affirmed that he would, as, after all, Morris had promised to return for the log books. "Alright, I'll come and talk to him. Just to talk to him! Now get out, we need to close."

They got out.

"Well done, Douglas." Carolyn said. "We almost have him. Once he's back on the airfield, he won't be able to resist."

"Hooray!" Arthur cheered. "It's funny Morris told you that, though, Douglas. I'm sure he told me that the ops were the only thing up to standard in our whole company."

"Yes, that is funny, isn't it?" Douglas decided it wasn't worth explaining. "But do me a favour, Arthur. Don't tell that to Martin."

oooooooooooo

It had been a strange drive back to the airfield. They had all gone together in Douglas' car, and as he drove Douglas had tried to help Martin prepare what he was going to say, but Martin had cut him off, still insisting that he wasn't coming back properly, that he was just going to have a word about the safety procedures. They let him carry on thinking that. Even Arthur seemed to have realised that it was the time to keep quiet. A few minutes later, they arrived.

"Is he here?" Martin asked. "Which is his car?"

"That one." Douglas said as they clambered out. "No doubt he's back for the log books."

"Oh." Martin couldn't help stopping. "It's a nice car."

He was suddenly very glad he hadn't brought the van.

"It's showy and self-aggrandising." Carolyn answered. "So, it suits him perfectly. Now, Martin, seriously, have you worked out what you're going to say to him?"

"No, I haven't." Martin said yet again. "I keep telling you, I'm just going to have a nice friendly chat about the CAA regulations."

"How fascinating." Douglas said. "We should have introduced you to Reg."

"Who?"

"Never mind that now, let's go and find our elusive enemy. I suggest two parties- Carolyn, Arthur, you go and check in the office and Martin and I will go on board Gerti." He was hoping, of course, that stepping aboard Gerti would provide the final push to get Martin over the edge of his pride and back into MJN. If nothing else, it was their best bet. Indeed, Martin seemed to approach the hanger with unusual reluctance. Douglas decided to say something before Martin had chance to build up too much mental resistance. "Have you really not thought of anything to say?"

"No, why should I?"

"Oh, no reason. Just in case, though?"

"Well…" Martin hesitated sheepishly. "I thought maybe, if I needed to, I could tell him MJN stood for Martin's Jet Now."

"Not bad." Douglas replied. "Of course, it could also stand for Morris' Jet Now."

"Oh, damn."

"Or indeed, Morris Montague's Jet Now."

"Yes, alright, just forget it." Martin said, suddenly realising that in spite of his irritation, somewhere deep down, he felt happy- or if not happy, at least content. It felt like old times, he realised, and he was enjoying it. As much as he liked his colleagues at the museum, there wasn't much verbal sparring to speak of. "I don't see why you all keep on anyway. I'm not here to tell him to leave, I'm just here to-"

"Are you sure?" Douglas asked. "Because not two minutes ago, you did call it Martin's Jet Now."

"I…"

"Oh, there he is," Douglas said, nodding ahead of them at a man climbing out of Gerti. "No doubt furious at my absent log book. Now, Martin, don't forget, for once, to stand up for yourself."

Martin would have asked 'how', but they were joined at that moment by Morris.

"Good evening, Mr Richardson." He said. "I see you've brought a friend. How charming."

"Yes, I have." Douglas agreed. "This is Martin, our old Captain. Captain, this is Morris."

"How nice to meet you." Morris said, ignoring the slight of Martin being addressed as captain and reaching over to shake hands.

"You too." Martin said, somewhat surprised at this cordial reception. "Actually, Morris, I was hoping to-"

"I'm sorry, Mr Crief, but I need to talk to Mr Richardson here. Business. I always say it's the captain's duty to be ever vigilant, always on duty. Otherwise, things get lax. People start making…" He looked Martin up and down, at the name badge and the dust on his knees from where he had been kneeling to check the bottom shelves. He raised a critical eyebrow and returned to finish his sentence. "…mistakes."

Martin seemed at a loss for anything to say, and Morris' attention turned to Douglas.

"Now then, Mr Richardson, I specifically told you to leave your log book out for me to collect, but I don't seem to be able to find it anywhere."

"Oh dear, how terribly remiss of me." Douglas said. "I must have taken it with me by mistake. Here." He pulled it out of his pocket, fully complete thanks to Martin and the ten minutes they'd waited for him, when Douglas had quickly signed all the pages. Morris took it without a word and turned lazily backwards through it, but seemed surprised to come on a complete page so soon and began to turn more frantically. He forgot, in his confusion, to hide his emotions and his face twisted in rage, his hands crumpled the pages at the edges, and Douglas realised he had never really calmed down about Rome, that it had all been building up inside him, and the failure to get Douglas fired may just have lit the fuse that would make him explode. Morris had reached the front pages now, the ones Douglas had actually done himself.

"Fraud!" He crowed triumphantly. "This isn't your own work! The handwriting clearly changes!"

"Yes, it does." Douglas agreed. "But you see, it isn't fraud, because I still wrote it."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I don't like to talk about this much because it was quite harrowing, but you see, I was born left-handed. Only a few years ago, I had a nasty fall and tragically broke my left arm."

"Oh yes." Martin jumped in helpfully, as eager to cover up his part in the deception as Douglas was. "I remember that. It was awful. I… I couldn't believe it when you said you'd-"

"Fallen out of a tree." Douglas said smoothly. "I was climbing them with my daughter. Anyway, it was such a pain I had to learn to write with my non-dominant right hand, resulting in the appalling, barely legible scrawl you see before you. And of course, even after my arm had healed I just never quite lost the habit."

"How odd, then, that it should be so like Captain Crief's handwriting!" Morris rounded on Martin. "If you are this weak willed and lax about discipline it's no wonder this company is in the state it's in! If you can't even get your crew to fulfil their responsibilities then you shouldn't have any responsibilities! It's a good thing you quit because judging by the mess you left behind you there has never been anyone so tragically ill-suited to being in command!"

"Enough!" Seeing Martin flinch, Douglas stepped in. "I think you've said enough, thank you."

"Well, I don't think I have, Mr Richardson, and I don't think I need to remind you that you have no authority over me." Morris squared up to him. "I know your type, the type who has to bully everyone, but you're a washed-up loser of a pilot unable to get a proper job and your prey will have to keep getting smaller and smaller and one day the only person you'll still be able to bully will be your daughter."

"You-!"

"Douglas." Martin said, warningly. He could see his friend was about to snap, and the last thing they needed was for it to come to blows. Morris seemed exactly the type who would make sure Douglas threw the first punch and then make sure his assailant got fired, even if he had to go to the CAA to do it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. No doubt you're barely allowed to see her in order to bully her, between the divorce and the adultery and the smuggling and the embezzlement and the alcoholism. I can't blame your ex-wife, I wouldn't be keen on you being involved in a child's life either."

"Be quiet, my daughter has nothing to do with this!" Douglas said. He knew Morris was deliberately trying to get under his skin. He knew it, but that didn't stop it from working. It was a low blow and all Douglas wanted to do was return the favour. His hands balled up into fists.

"Douglas, no! You can't!" Martin, panicking now, caught hold of the other's man's arm, which only served to enrage Douglas more. He pulled away, taking a step towards Morris.

"Oh, just let him go, Captain." Morris smirked. "He obviously wants to. Is this what you do when your daughter annoys you too?"

"Right!"

"No! Douglas, no!"

Morris opened his mouth to make another smart remark but it was sent back down his throat by a fist making a hard connection with his lip and nose. He was knocked to the floor, clutching it, blood coming between his fingers.

Douglas blinked at the prone captain, his anger evaporating. "Martin." He said, feeling, for once, completely at a loss for words.

Martin didn't say anything either, apparently as shocked as the rest of them. He stood frozen, staring in wide eyed panic at his fingers, which were still balled into a fist.

oooooooooooo

"So, Martin." Carolyn leaned back in her chair, feeling that it had all turned out rather splendidly. "It seems like you owe me."

This was due to the fact that only moments before, Morris had come in, dripping blood from a broken nose and screaming blue murder about how he wasn't going to be treated like this and demanding Carolyn fire Douglas and Arthur and have Martin barred immediately or he would quit. He quit.

"What?" Martin's pulse clearly had yet to return to normal, all his movements were sharp and jerky still. "No I don't!"

"Oh, but you do. My captain has just quit because you punched him on the nose."

"Yes, but I only did that because I was so worried about Douglas hitting him!"

Douglas couldn't help laughing at this. He had privately decided that Martin had a curved apex of panic, reached when the younger man got so very flustered he transcended into a state of cool action, and then, as he calmed down, fell back into panic again. This theory would certainly explain how he had managed to land Gerti while projectile vomiting and perhaps the bizarre logic which had presented the solution that it thought best: In order to stop Douglas from punching Morris, Martin would have to do it himself. Well, it had worked- in a way.

"Does this mean you're the captain again, Skip?" Arthur asked, quite enjoying the drama.

"No." Martin said.

"Yes." Carolyn said. "I'm sorry Martin, but you don't have a choice. You've just chased my only other option away. Anyway, you obviously want to come back, so why don't you?"

"In case you've forgotten, Carolyn, I nearly killed everyone on board." He sank into a chair, dejected.

"And yet here we are, still more or less in one piece." She said. "Yes, alright, you made a mistake and so did I by letting you fly, but I have a better suggestion. Martin, you come back to MJN and I promise that neither of you will ever be allowed to fly solo again."

"Me?" Douglas interrupted. "Carolyn, I'm perfectly capable-"

"No." She cut him off. She was a bulldozer now, working towards her goal. "And, Martin? How many days do you work at the museum?"

"What?" Martin looked up, puzzled. His heart was starting to thud, in a painful, embarrassed happiness. It was beginning to believe he was going to go back. "Three days a week. I'm on a twenty-two and a half hour contract."

"Good." Carolyn said. "Then I'll work around your shifts, as long as you realise that for the other 145 and a half hours a week, you're mine."

"Really?" Martin could almost feel the possibilities opening up before him. He would, as long as he was careful, manage to keep his new flat. He wouldn't have to go back to the student house or the van, or leave a job he liked. If Carolyn really would work around his job, flying for MJN Air might actually be viable.

"Yes, well, I've just lost one pilot, I don't want to lose another because he's either malnourished or homeless." Carolyn dismissed. "But before you agree to any overtime at the shop, you run it past me, understood?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

And Martin realised that he had somehow ended up agreeing to come back, even though he hadn't explicitly done so. He also found he didn't mind.

"Hooray!" Arthur cheered. "Everything can finally go back to normal."

"Wait, hold on." Douglas couldn't forgive himself if he didn't ask. "Martin, what will your girlfriend think of you coming back?"

"What girlfriend?"

"Ah." Douglas said. "Yes, Arthur. Everything is back to normal."

oooooooooooo

"Okay, Martin, a nice easy one to get you back into the swing of it."

It had been several hours since the drama at the airfield, and they had decided to celebrate Martin's re-initiation by sharing a few drinks in The Burnt Oak, Fitton's least disgusting pub, where Martin had got slightly drunk with Liz just a few nights before. He was taking it easy just in case, sticking mainly to the soft drinks with Douglas and Arthur. But now Douglas wanted to play a word game.

"Not now." He said.

"Oh, come on, I promise it'll be one even you can do. What about… Towns and cities that begin and end with the same letter?"

"No, Douglas, I'm not-"

"Oslo." He paused. "Warsaw. Come on, Martin, it really is easy."

"Alright. Um…"

"Newtown."

"Um…"

"St Ives."

"Ah, of course. Um…"

"Lostwithel."

"Douglas, it's not fair if you've obviously thought of them before we started!"

"I haven't, I only thought of the game just now. St Agnes!"

"Are you just going round Cornwall in your head?" Martin sighed. "Oh, Nuneaton!"

"Yes, good one." Douglas paused, already bored. He often was, once Martin had scored a point. "So what happened, then? To you and this girl you were going about with?"

"We weren't going about." Martin sighed. "She's going about. To Manchester. She didn't want to start a thing."

"Oh. Still, never mind. Plenty more where that came from." He gestured over to the bar. "That brunette, for instance. She's just sitting there waiting for someone to buy her a drink."

"I did think that." Martin confessed. "But… well, you know how I get with women."

"Yes, unfortunately."

Even so, Douglas could see Martin was tempted. All he needed was a little help, and Douglas was the man to provide it. He had a plan that was nearly, he thought, Martin-proof. "Martin, listen to me. Go over there and chat to her, but when she asks what you do for a living, don't say you're a pilot. Tell her you work in a shop."

"Really?" Martin frowned. "But… being a pilot is much more impressive, isn't it?"

"Yes, and that's why you tell her it's your hobby."

"But shouldn't I-?"

"Just trust me and try it!"

Martin did, and came back smiling. Douglas smiled back in satisfaction.

"What did I tell you? Did you get her number?"

"No."

"What?! Martin, I give up on you, I really do."

"No, she offered it to me, but… it didn't seem fair to lead her on." He had, Douglas noticed, come back with a pint, which he swirled moodily. "I know all about being lead on."

Douglas bit his tongue to hold back a comment and even resisted the urge to give Martin a clip round the ear. He couldn't stand pity parties.

"It'll all work out." He said, finally.

"I'm not so sure." Martin sighed. Then his phone started ringing, and it was Liz. Martin gawped at Douglas, wondering how he had done it. "Does everything just do what you say just to make sure you're right all the time?" He asked.

"I should wait and see what happens when you answer it first."

Martin decided this was good advice and stepped outside of the pub, answering it with a peculiar feeling, a kind of positive foreboding. He felt like it was just one more thing that had to go right today, one more thing to make it perfect.

"Hello?" He said cautiously.

"Hello, Icarus Removals?" Liz's voice came, uncharacteristically nervous. "I was wondering if I could book you for a job."

"Well, that depends on the job. We were shutting down." Martin said.

"Oh, really? I was wondering if you could help me move up to Manchester on Saturday."

There was a pause while Martin thought about what to say. He couldn't keep doing this.

"I don't know." He said, stubbornly. "The thing is, I've heard that once you help someone move, you're friends for life."

"Whoever told you that is incredibly, unreservedly an idiot." Liz said, without hesitation. "I was really hoping you could help me, Martin. There's a very important thing I need your help with."

"In that case," Martin said slowly, waiting for the catch. There didn't seem to be one. "In that case, I suggest you get yourself down to the Oak as soon as possible and start being very, very nice to me, and then we'll see what we can do."

Business concluded, Martin turned to go back into the pub, but not before he paused to catch his breath in the evening chill. He needed a second to process everything, bit by bit.

He was a pilot again. Still not getting paid, but a pilot, doing what he loved, what he was born to do. And he had another job, which he also loved, which meant he could (just about) afford to do the flying.

He had his own place, at last. It wasn't a very big place or anything fancy, and it was rented rather than owned, but it was his. He had more than one room and there were no students in them, and it was much warmer than the attic. That made a nice change.

And, it would seem he had- or very nearly had- an actual shot at a relationship. Not a perfect one; it was hard to know how they would keep it going with her moving away and his working all the time, but they had a chance. A chance was good enough for him. No, he didn't need much, just a little chance at happiness.

Martin was so used to having to grab onto those chances only to watch them slip through his fingers he was quite surprised to find one had drifted down and landed gently in his hands. He wouldn't let it go this time. He smiled, turned around and went back inside to join his friends from MJN Air.

The End

oooooooooooo

A/N: There! Hope you all enjoyed it, thanks for reading :) I couldn't not have a happy ending, of course. XD But word games are hard, even the easy ones. Writing a fic that isn't too dialogue-heavy when it's a fic of a radio show is even harder, hence why I largely failed on that front. I would however like to say special thank yous to Blackthorn14, with whom I RPd the original concept, and to my dear previously-mentioned sister Ashtrees, who provided constant consultation and a lot of good ideas, especially the funny ones.

On that note, Ashtrees was rather vocal in her opinion of how the Morris/Martin showdown should have gone. She was so vocal, I eventually wrote it for her. So here, for your bonus viewing pleasure, is a rather silly alternate ending:

"Morris didn't bother to call in at the portacabin when he got back to the airfield because that, no doubt, was what they were expecting him to do. He would return the files later, after Douglas' undoubtedly incomplete log book had been sent off to the CAA. It wasn't that Morris was malicious, it was simply that Douglas Richardson was a plague to the skies that needed to be purged. Attitudes like his were outdated, dangerous. He had seen the log book on the top shelf of the flight deck locker and that was where he headed, sure that the book would be lying there undisturbed. He unlocked the door and went in.

Abruptly, the light switched on. Morris, dazed by the sudden glare, could see only in silhouette what was happening as the Captain's chair- his chair- swung round, containing a lithe figure he had heard of only in legends.

"Hello, Morris." Said the figure. "I hear you've been taking care of my plane."

Morris blinked his watering eyes, and the figure turned into someone he had only ever heard about in the legends of MJN Air. There was no doubt in his mind who this was.

"Martin Crief." He said. "So. We finally meet."

Martin didn't drop his gaze, looking steadily at Morris as he slowly unbuttoned his Ducksford Air Museum shirt, only to suddenly throw it aside in distaste. Beneath it, triumphantly revealed, was the four-striped sleeves and shirt of a pilot, the MJN ensigna a beacon of glory on his chest. Martin reached over Morris' shoulder, to the hook on the back of the locker, and put on his hat.

"That's Captain Martin Crief to you." He said. "Now, stand aside."

And Morris did. He couldn't compete with a man in uniform."

That's about all from me! Thank you and goodnight! :)