Disclaimer: I do not own Cabin Pressure and am not making any profit by using it.

Author´s notes: Beware, possible spoilers for season 4!

Listening to Wokingham, I fell in love with Wendy Crieff- not only because she´s played by the brilliant Prunella Scales, but also because she´s so adorable. In my other CP story (God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen), Martin´s mother is entirely different, and I wanted to write something to make up for it and do her justice. So here goes, short and sweet.

Enjoy!

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Cabin Pressure:

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Her Littlest Boy

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Wendy Crieff blinked and looked around in her cosy living room, for a moment confused. Oh, right- she had dozed off in her armchair. Martin had lit a fire for her, and she had put her feet up on the footstool and enjoyed the warmth. Martin had also made her some tea, even though she could have done that herself, and brought it to her, along with some biscuits, before he had gone upstairs and changed her bed-linen.

Wendy had tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn´t listen. He also had gone shopping for her, done the hoovering and her laundry. She really didn´t think Martin should have to take over all of her chores, though she admittedly did feel a little out of breath if she moved around too much. It bothered her that she was causing her children so much trouble, but Martin had insisted, and he could be so stubborn. A trait he had inherited from his dad, undoubtedly.

The house was quiet. Wendy craned her neck to look for her son: there he was, on the sofa. Slowly, she got to her feet; Martin had curled up at one end, his head on the squashy armrest, and had fallen asleep. Wendy took a blanket from the other end and spread it out over him; he always seemed weary these days, and now that he was sleeping, he looked very young and vulnerable.

She smiled as she beheld him affectionately; she had never tired of watching him when he had been a baby, and she found that this still was the case. She perched on the edge of the coffee table and very cautiously stroked her hand over his hair. Her precious boy. She was aware that he was working hard to make a living, and she appreciated his taking the time to look after her. Not that she needed looking after, really, but it was nice to have Martin at home like this.

She loved all of her children equally strongly, of course, and was proud of them, yet Martin was the one she saw least, since he was away on trips so very frequently.

She sometimes lay away at night, unable to find sleep; on those occasions it always calmed her to think of him, wondering where he might be right then. She usually jotted down the names when he mentioned the places he´d flown to or was going to fly to, and looked them up later on. She tried to imagine Martin in those places, which often sounded like peregrine and exotic surroundings.

It was utterly inconceivable that her baby, the little boy who so loved to play aeroplane, had grown up to be an actual pilot. Caitlin had always been a rather independent spirit, and Simon had been boisterous and sturdy, whereas Martin had often reminded her of the littlest duckling trailing after the flock.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder; he was a bit on the thin side. She would have to feed him a little before all this was over. She would go into the kitchen and see what she had in the pantry, maybe she´d make a nice casserole.

She was about to get up when Martin stirred. "Mum?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, my darling," she said, squeezing his shoulder,"I´m fine."

He made to get up:"Did you want something? I can-"

"There´s no need, you can stay where you are." Wendy gently but firmly pressed him back down, smiling at her son. "Don´t you worry, everything is as it should be."

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The End

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