Captain Martin Crieff gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and swerved slightly to avoid a particularly ominous-looking patch of ice. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he tugged his coat tighter around his thin frame and puffed a visible breath into the frigid air. For the hundredth time that day he berated himself for not shelling out to get the heating in his decrepit van fixed.

So what if it means skipping a couple meals, he thought wryly. When he at last pulled into the Fitton Airfield parking lot, he was unsurprised to find that it was all but deserted. Only an airdot as small and desperate as MJN Air would continue business as usual during the worst winter storm Western Europe had seen in over a dozen years. Martin parked next to, but still a respectable distance away from, a Lexus he knew to belong to his First Officer Douglas Richardson. Martin retrieved his white pilot's hat from his flight bag and settled it snugly on his head before shouldering his bag and exiting the van. The wide-open concrete expanse provided no protection from the wind, and Martin found himself struggling to stay upright against the icy particulates buffeting him. When he finally reached the portakabin he dragged himself inside and collapsed against the door. Almost immediately, an unusually helpful passenger- wearing a hat, bounded over to Martin.

"Skip!" Arthur Shappey exclaimed, "It's snowing!"

Martin wiped the frost from his eyebrows and grimaced at Arthur, "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"So nice of Sir to join us," Douglas said acerbically from where he sat at his desk across the room.

"I overslept," Martin stammered, "And besides, we're on standby for the next week…"

He sank down into his chair and began stripping off layers of coats. Douglas simply raised an eyebrow at him and wordlessly returned to reading his book. Arthur was hard at work cutting snowflakes out of coffee filters and taping them to the walls. With nothing else to do, Martin sighed and began working on some long-overdue paperwork Douglas had failed to complete. For the better part of an hour they worked in silence, interspersed with humming from Arthur. At around 9:00, Carolyn emerged from her office waving her mobile phone triumphantly.

"Look alive, Team Useless, we've got a client."

"Brilliant!" Arthur crowed.

"B-but Carolyn!" Martin spluttered, "We can't fly in this weather! At the very least the snowfall obscures visibility on the runway enough that it falls outside of CAA acceptable-"

"Martin, as much as I would love to listen to a flight manual recitation, we do not have time. The client is dropping off the cargo within the hour and we need to get it to the far side of Scotland by sun-down."

"If you don't think you can handle it, Martin, I'm sure I can manage this one without you," Douglas put in snidely.

"No!" Martin stood up quickly, "No, I-I-I can do it."

"Good. Get the flight plan filed ASAP."

Carolyn disappeared back into her office, leaving behind a stymied Martin and a smug Douglas.

"What are you smiling about," Martin glared at Douglas.

"Ah, nothing," Douglas crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, "I was just thinking that I'd really hate to be the poor chap that has to do the pre-flight check today."

"The Sound of Silence, What a Wonderful World."

"Nice one… ok uh, Stormy Weather, Blowin' in the Wind."

"In the Still of the Night, Makin' Whoopee."

"Ooh I've got one; Wide Open Spaces, Free Falling"

"I suppose that… works. Martin are you trying to insinuate something?"

"No, I um, I've just never flown in conditions like these," Martin admitted. He picked at his sleeve.

"Martin," Douglas sighed, "It's just a little snowstorm, nothing I haven't dealt with before. Listen, if you'd like me to take the landing-"

"No, Douglas," Martin interrupted, turning slightly pinker than usual, "I'm perfectly capable-'"

"Oh for goodness sakes Martin, not everything I do is an attempt to usurp your captainship, I'm simply offering my assistance. The offer remains if you change your mind."

After a few moments Martin nodded tersely, then returned his focus intensely to the window in front of him. Douglas leaned back in his chair as Arthur burst into the cabin holding two cups of coffee.

"Coffee, chaps!" He said brightly.

"Thanks, Arthur," Martin accepted a cup and perked up visibly after a few sips, "This tastes surprisingly like coffee today."

"Imagine that."

Arthur nodded happily, "Thanks Skip, I added something special!"

Martin stopped drinking.

Douglas quirked an eyebrow, "Arthur please enlighten us, what is the special something you added to the coffee?"

"Well you know how you and Skip are always complaining about how the coffee tastes? Lately I've been trying out adding new things to the coffee. You know in St. Petersburg? I put some-"

"Arthur if I may," Douglas interrupted, noticing Martin had gone a little pale, "I don't think Martin here needs to know exactly what you put in the coffee before. What's in this coffee?"

"Well I was on the web looking for some sort of hat to wear for when we went to Uskerty, and I came across this brilliant recipe for something called Irish Coffee!"

"Oh no."

"You spiked the coffee?" Martin spluttered.

"Well, I suppose that's a sort of way to put it…" Arthur looked disappointed.

"Douglas doesn't drink!" Martin turned to Douglas quickly, "Did you drink any?"

"Fortunately, no. I always take the precaution of allowing you to sample any edibles prepared by Arthur before I partake in them. Now Arthur, as much as I admire your increasingly innovative attempts to thwart my sobriety, the Captain and I would appreciate it if you could leave the poor coffee out of it."

"Sorry Douglas," Arthur said, crestfallen, "I'll bring you some fresh coffee."

"Arthur wait," Martin sighed, "This is brilliant coffee, it really is, just not for flights. After we get back to Fitton, I promise I'll help you taste all the new coffee recipes you want."

"Brilliant!" Arthur beamed, then exited the cabin.

"Martin," Douglas paused for dramatic effect, "I'm a bit concerned you don't fully realize what you've just agreed to do."

"Oh God," Martin groaned and placed his head in his hands.

The landing went fairly smoothly; as smoothly as MJN landings ever did. Tobermory was a tiny village on the small island of Mull in the reasonably sized country of Scotland. Mull was the type of place that was so small that the mobile phone companies had overlooked it when deciding where to install cellular service towers. The "airport" consisted of a single runway, a helipad, and one building. The landing required all of Martin's skill due to the narrowness of the runway and the low visibility afforded by the snowstorm. By the time all of the post-flight checks were complete, the sun had set, so MJN hurried into the small airfield offices where Carolyn attempted to arrange for a ride into town. They soon learned that the lone taxi service in Tobermory was not operating due to the storm, so It came down to Douglas bribing the manager of the airfield into giving them a ride. When they at last arrived at the small motel and were settled in their rooms, they were all ready to fall into bed.

"Douglas, do you think we'll be able to fly out tomorrow in this storm?"

"Martin, go to sleep," Douglas groaned from his bed.

Martin shifted to face Douglas, "Really though, what if it gets worse tonight?"

"And? Then we'll have a nice little vacation on Carolyn's dime."

"But I have van jobs scheduled this week!" Martin's voice rose in pitch, "I can't afford to miss them, I'm liable to be kicked out of my attic if I miss another month's rent!"

"Martin listen," Douglas, sensing Martin's descent into a full-blown panic attack, adopted his most soothing voice, "I'm fairly certain Carolyn isn't keen on staying more than one night in Nowheresville, Nowhere Island, and believe me when I tell you that if anyone can halt a snowstorm out of sheer force of will, it's Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. Everything will be fine."

Martin was silent for a few minutes. Douglas raised himself up on one elbow to peer over at his roommate and realized he was sound asleep. Douglas smiled and layed back down, allowing himself to relax and drift off to the sound of snow battering the windows.

As it turned out, Carolyn either did not possess the ability to control the weather, or had chosen not to exercise it on this occasion. It was storming even worse in the morning than it had been the night before. Douglas clambered out of bed and immediately regretted leaving the relative warmth of the sheets. Martin was still asleep, curled up under the woolen comforter but shivering slightly now and again. Douglas took pity on him and draped the blanket from his own bed over Martin before heading to the shower. Douglas took a long shower, lengthened by his reluctance to return to the freezing room. When he finally emerged, Martin was still asleep, so he headed next door to talk to Carolyn about their plans for the day. Carolyn conceded that they couldn't fly out. Since most places in town had closed down, there was nothing for MJN to do but spend the day inside. The motel itself was only a few rooms and a small lobby downstairs. Douglas headed downstairs where Arthur was sitting in front of a roaring fireplace in his PJ's, looking through the innkeeper's collection of board games.

"Douglas isn't this brilliant! It'll like a slumber party but all day!"

"Yes, quite." Douglas wandered over to one of the bookshelves against the wall.

"Look, Douglas! Have you played this one before?" Arthur held up a game excitedly.

"Ah yes, my daughter used to be quite fond of that one."

"Will you play with me Douglas? Please!"

"Alright Arthur," Douglas sighed. Casting one last lingering look at the surprisingly sophisticated selection of books, Douglas sat down on the rug next to Arthur.

"Douglas, you can't do that!"

"I'm the Chief of Surgery, Arthur, I can do whatever I want. Your turn."

"Ok… Oh I got the butterfly. That's pretty clever isn't it Douglas? Because a butterfly is the absolute last thing you would expect to find in a stomach!"

"Is it really the absolute last, Arthur?"

"Oh absolutely!"

"Indeed."

Arthur seized the plastic butterfly piece with the tiny metal tweezers and pulled, only to be rewarded with a loud buzzing sound.

"Oh look, his nose's gone all red, do you think that means I've won?"

"Somehow I don't think it does. Oh, hello Martin."

Martin had come down the stairs wearing jeans and wrapped tightly in a sweatshirt, his hair dripping wet.

"Morning," he grunted, and placed himself squarely in front of the fireplace.

"Good morning Skip! D'you want to play with us?" Arthur chirped.

"No, I don't think so Arthur, thanks."

"And what seems to be ailing Sir this morning?" Douglas asked, putting his usual special emphasis on the word "sir".

"N-nothing, I'm just a little cold is all. Their hot water heater must be malfunctioning or something, I couldn't get the shower to warm up…"

"Ah… I may have… indulged myself in a shower a bit longer than necessary this morning," Douglas admitted.

"I should've known it would be you who used all the hot water," Martin glared at him.

"It's really the fault of this place for having such a poor water-heating system."

Martin harrumphed at him and turned back to the fire. A few minutes later, Carolyn marched down the stairs.

"I've just had a word with the owner of this…" Carolyn searched for a word, and settled on, "establishment. He's unable to join us at the moment, due to his flight being grounded as a result of the storm, but he said to make ourselves at home. He also said that the only place in town to get anything to eat, or even a decent cuppa, is a small grocery a few blocks from here. Fortunately, they're open despite the storm. Unfortunately that means if we plan on eating anything today, someone will have to walk there and pick something up.

"Ooh, me! Pick me, mum!" Arthur's hand shot into the air and he waved it enthusiastically.

"Oh you idiot boy," Carolyn sighed, "All right. But someone's got to go with him. The last time I sent him alone somewhere with my card, I ended up with a year's membership to a subscription sock service."

"But mum, they send you a new pair of socks every month!"

"Yes, yes," Carolyn said dismissively, "Now who else fancies a trip to the store?"

"As much as I'd love to, I can't possibly go. I have to stay here and keep watch over our game, make sure no one unfairly fiddles with any of the pieces," Douglas shrugged helplessly.

"Alright," Martin groaned, "I'll go with Arthur."

"Thank you, Martin."

"Mum can I get a Toblerone?"

"Yes, alright, fine. Martin, here's my card."

Carolyn gave Martin directions to the store, and strict instructions as to what he should buy. She then made Arthur change into real clothes, and the two set off.

The storm was in full swing when the captain and steward left the store. Martin was laden down with two bags of groceries, and Arthur was clutching a Toblerone to his chest and sporting an "I Tobermory" hat that Martin had finally caved and bought for him after much cajoling. Visibility in the storm was even lower than it had been on their way out, so Martin mostly kept his head down to avoid the stinging snow and retraced the path they'd taken before, glancing back occasionally to make sure he hadn't lost Arthur.

The two were crossing a wooden bridge spanning a small, frozen creek when Arthur cried out, "My hat!"

Martin looked back in time to see Arthur's prized souvenir be whisked away by a gust of wind and disappear over the side of the bridge.

Arthur clutched at his now exposed head and repeated, "My hat!"

Martin set down the bags of groceries and trudged over to the edge of the bridge, and could just make out the neon green of the cap where it rested on the icy surface of the creek. Martin turned back to Arthur, prepared to tell him to forget about it, but the expression of anguish on Arthur's face made him stop.

"Wait here," Martin sighed.

He picked his way to the end of the bridge, struggling to stay upright against the strong wind. The snow was somewhat higher along the edges of the road where snowplows didn't pass through. Martin waded through it until he reached the bank of the creek. The steeply sloping bank down to the frozen water provided somewhat more of a problem. Martin eventually decided to sit down and slide down to the creek rather than attempting to walk and risking a fall. He estimated the creek was about 15 feet across, and the hat was resting on the ice near the middle. There was no way he could reach it without actually getting out onto the ice. He tested the ice nearest to him with a cautious foot, then judging it to be solid, he took a step out onto it. Martin continued in this way, testing each step before committing, until he reached the center of the creek. He snatched the cap up and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. Glancing up to the bridge, he could make out Arthur hanging over the rail, watching him. Martin gave a triumphant wave. He felt the ice beneath his feet crack before he saw it, but by then it was too late. Martin plunged into the icy water.

The cold seemed to freeze the blood in his veins. Logically, Martin knew that he'd be long dead before that could happen, but that knowledge didn't make him feel any better. He floundered wildly for a second, but his bulky clothes were weighing him down and he continued to sink rapidly. He managed to shed his outermost coat which helped a little. He found the light filtering through the hole he'd created and used it as a point to focus on. Martin flapped his arms desperately, but he continued to sink and his physical and mental movements were both growing feeble. A familiar lightheadedness came over him, and he realized sluggishly that he was about to blackout. He fought desperately against the encroaching darkness, but it claimed him.