AN: Posting in a rush with very, very hazy ideas about where I'm going to take this, but I was hit by a sudden very Cabin Pressure-y mood this evening, so here goes!

ANKAVANDRA

"All right…. Ashton Keynes."

"Challenge." Douglas tried to keep the irritation from his voice. As soon as he found out how his opponent was cheating at Place Name Dominoes he was going to give him what for.

"It's in Wiltshire. My sister lives there. Google it."

"Drat. Milton Keynes." A more obvious one, but better to reply straight away than leave a gap.

"Milton Regis."

"Ah, easy, Bognor Regis."

"…Lyme Regis."

"Aha! Can't re-use 'Regis', it was 'Bognor' we were looking for. Better luck next time." Douglas smirked. At last. Loath though he was to admit it, the days of effortless victory had ended when Martin left for Switzerland. Now he had to work harder and longer for that satisfaction during the lazy days spent on stand.

"As I recall, you placed no restrictions on which word followed over to the next turn. All you said was the new place had to use one word of the previous two."

"Clearly you've not played a lot of Dominoes. Only the exposed end of the chain is open for play except in the case of spinner."

"Clearly you've limited your experience to that of traditional Dominoes. In the Maltese Cross Variation, you'll find—"

The protestations of the other pilot were interrupted by the loud, insistent ring of Douglas's mobile. Douglas inwardly congratulated himself on a good choice of pilot-silencing ringtone.

"Sounds fascinating, Herc, truly, but if you could just hold that thought…"

He glanced at the caller ID before answering.

In the split second it took to lift the phone to his ear he felt a faint twinge of something as the contact name 'Sir' brought back years of playful rivalry which had, at some point, tumbled headlong into actual friendship.

"Martin! What a pleasant surprise."

"Douglas, hello, can I just—I mean could you—" the voice sounded strained and nervous, even these few syllables falling over one another haphazardly. Little change there.

"Sorry, should that be 'Prince' Martin now? Or perhaps Your Serene Highness?"

"It's just I don't know what to do and I just thought—I mean I have to—because you always know what to do and—I need to—"

Even for Martin this was sounding unusually panicked. Douglas decided to drop the teasing for the moment. "I think what you need is to breathe, for a second, and calm down, and then perhaps consider telling me what the matter is. I'm flattered that you came to me for a dose of wisdom, Martin, but I'm afraid my mind-reading powers just don't work down the phone line as well as they do face-to-face."

There was a pause on Martin's end. "Okay. Calm, yes. Very calm. I am calm. This is me…being calm."

"That's more like it. Now – and please try to use full sentences this time – what is the matter?"

"It's today, Douglas."

"What is? Oh! You mean—"

"Yes! She's just gone in!"

"Well, that's good, isn't it? I'm sure it will all go swimmingly—"

"But I'm supposed to be there!"

Douglas could hear Martin's voice rising once more to the panicked peak of hysteria. Herc was looking at him questioningly, clearly hearing the heightened tones from across the departure lounge.

"What! So why aren't you?"

"Because I'm in ANKAVANDRA!"

"Bless you."

"Madagascar, Douglas, I'm in bloody Madagascar! We're not flying back 'til the morning and I've got way of getting home any faster and can you just tell me what to do please because you've done this before and I haven't and you always know what to do every time—"

"Touching though your faith in me is, Martin, and however much I'd love to help, I'm afraid I'm in Fitton, and you, as you've explained quite clearly, are in Madagascar. There's about five thousand miles between you and your beloved at this current time, and even if I could swing by in GERTI and pick you up – which I can't, by the way – it would take us ten hours at least to get to you and then another nine or so to get back to Liechtenstein, so..."

"I know all that!" Martin sounded near to breaking point. Douglas trailed off. "I know I can't be there. I'm not asking you to get me there, Douglas, I'm asking…" There was a pause. A shuddery breath. "I'm asking how I'm supposed to just wait."

"Ah."

"What do I do? I can't just sit here."

"Well, it seems you haven't got much choice."

"I'm… Douglas, I can't do it."

"Of course you can. Nothing easier."

"I can't, I'm not ready, I've got no idea what I'm doing. I'm going to get it wrong because I always do…"

"Ah, I see." Douglas held back a chuckle as it suddenly all made sense in an unmistakably Martin-ish way. "We're not talking about waiting in Madagascar any more, are we?"

"No." It was a forlorn voice, the voice of someone very, very young and very, very afraid.

Douglas sighed deeply. "You might not be able to believe this, Martin, but at the beginning I was just as terrified as you are right now."

There came a snort of derision, and Douglas was pleased to hear the sound. "I'm so sure."

"No, I was. I'm not just saying that." Douglas paused, unsure just how sickly-sweet he was prepared to let this show of solidarity become. "You're going to do just fine. Because I said so, and you of all people should know that I'm always right."

Martin said nothing for a long moment.

"Thanks."

"Not at all," Douglas let the last syllable hang for a second before adding, with more than a single note of pride in his voice, "…Dad."