The point at which an aircraft first makes contact with the landing surface.

* * *

"Does your entire life flash right in front of your eyes before you die? I wonder."

A/N: Despite the fact that I've enjoyed writing this chapter (because I loved the angst!), it was quite heavy for me to write it. Adding to the recipe the fact that when I began working on this, I coincidentally also received the first batch of materials necessary for our Airbus A320 flight training; which was the Computer-Based Training (CBT).
A rough preview of the CBT was just imagine being handed a manual of a car, and you'll need to understand every small aspect of it to the very last screw; hell, now imagine it as the case for an airplane. So, yeah. In the CBT, it tackled everything that we should know like some sort of an engineer or mechanic or flight attendant or communications officer or strategist or analyst or programmer (with all the codes necessary) or even that of a lawyer or doctor (due to the laws and the oxygen and emergency things). How every system works and how the operations would be from normal to the abnormal to the worst possible scenarios (like we were expected to act as some sort of a computer, too!). Haven't I mentioned that even the autoflight system itself was the longest of the discussed systems just because its operation was detailed on? And for anyone who thought that we were just chilling on the cockpit because of the autopilot; well, we aren't, with how complex it was to operate and understand the system itself alone! So, after 178 hours, 1,418 pages and 48 subjects of CBT notes, I finished it on time before ground school itself.
Anyhow, with the upload of this chapter, today is currently my second to the last day with the A320 ground school. (Hell, whatever we've self-studied in the CBT wasn't even discussed on ground school, because the subjects discussed were the next level of the self-study.) To be exact, at the upload of this chapter, we're two hours and twenty minutes already in our supposed-to-be last lesson, which is UPRT (Upset Prevention and Recovery Training); because our Performance Computation instructor didn't attend yesterday because it was Pampanga Day and we don't actually have any holiday.
For the past few days, we've been under the good teaching environment of former airline pilots, wherein one of them had been Capt. Dexter Comendador himself. (To give you a preview of me fangirling in a sense about him; well, he's the former COO and President of AirAsia Philippines, and the Second Officer of the PAL Flight 434 (1994) which experienced a bomb explosion on board but with Capt. Reyes and FO Herrera, they managed to land the crippled plane safely with only one casualty (the one seated on where the bomb exploded). The said flight was the test run of the unsuccessful Bojinka terrorist attack, which would then be the blueprint for the September 11 (9/11) attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon six years later (2001). According to him, at that time of the accident, time just moves very slowly.
Here's him discussing the normal procedure and briefings of the Airbus A320, and he might be our instructor for tomorrow's Performance Calculation because of schedule mismanagement, and hopefully, a picture with an idol 👀:

And here's me and my Airbus captain/first officer during our mock-up and MCDU trainer while using the IPT (Integrated Procedure Training) model, which would consist of 8 sessions, before proceeding to the FBS (Fixed Based Simulator) and FFS (Full-Flight Simulator):

And here's a few of our erratic batch for our CRM training (Crew Resource Management), out of other ground school subjects such as Jet Orientation, Airbus Philosophy and Normal Procedures, Mock-up and MCDU trainer, Performance Computation and UPRT:

All of this said, well, I'll be starting my simulation training after the holidays. Wish me luck! And I was once again reminded of how Elian/César had been training to be an airline pilot.
So, this chapter, prepare your tissues because this was quite a long and heavy one. And before I forgot, today is César's 82nd death anniversary. Not to mention that the upload time is what his assumed time of landing at Nichols Field 82 years ago? Uhm, here's an extra tissue??? 🥹
And this, by far, is the longest chapter I've written, and could be, for this story.
More bonus chapters are lined-up to be written (or to be published) but who knows when? Keep your eyes on the horizon for updates!

* * *

Anything about the body was clearly discussed in two different scientific studies—biology as the study of life, and thanatology as the study of death. Physics as the study of how matter interacts was almost parallel to chemistry as the study of how matter was made. However, between those sciences, César had a fair share of understanding it all.

Five years dealing with chemistry, two years with physics, and a few necessary hours with biology and thanatology. But, for a few instances of his life, he thought that things could've been all different if it had been the other way around.

Perhaps, if his life only touched a few of chemistry, focused then on physics, he would be a better pilot. Then with biology and thanatology, he would know what he must do at such a moment of need.¹ Maybe, if only, he would then know that the mind work wonders if hit by a bullet; and the body would respond much more if one was ground strafed.

But it was too late for such regrets concerning that. His mind that seemed to only think of the chemical aspect concerning the fuel and air ratio of a Peashooter rummaged through his academics of what chemical reaction his body was undergoing right now; and the physics which explained how a plane flies contradictory to the public knowledge that everything was magic, searched for something to work on with how much time was left. Unfortunately, fuel flow was much faster and easier to compute than how much he was losing blood in every tick of the clock.²

He was unsure of what to feel. Pain was even at the very bottom of things; shock might be the most prevalent. The brain surely started receiving too much information at once to lead to that; but above all things, instead of sending equivalent reaction, just as how Newton's Third Law of Motion was to be, it definitely didn't send out some enzymes of pain tolerance to counter it all. Or, maybe, the fact that one's entire life flashing right in front of one's eyes before death was the small assurance for something that the entire body couldn't work out to process the healing.

* * *

He wasn't a man who've taken interest to writing diaries like others; fearful that others would be reading it behind his back and he would like to remain privy of his own thoughts. To begin with, writing letters had been trivial for him. Throughout high school and college, he had friends whom he would find foolish to be fidgeting on what to write down for their lovers, and he found himself often laughing that he wouldn't be interested of such. For him, he had too much chemical symbols, equations and lectures to take note than string flowery words on a piece of paper.

Even during the start of flight training, he considered that his notebooks would only be filled with the important stuffs, those things he needed to remember; because, being a pilot, no one told him that he needed to be an analyst, a strategist, a lawyer, an engineer, a mechanic, a doctor or a meteorologist than anything else than just fly and navigate the plane.³ But, it had changed.

Too many had changed because of (Y/N). A good change.

And whatever he first considered to be trivial finally gained some meaning. Whenever they were apart or wouldn't be seeing each other within the day, he would be writing down what he had done for the time they were apart. It was some sort of his own way as if he had been telling her how his day had went.

He just received orders from Capt. Villamor that his last duty as a bachelor would be to take the reconnaissance flight tomorrow morning before being shipped back to Manila. It just so happened that the SC had been there on the right time and right place to hear his conversation with Antonio that definitely fueled the SC's wrath. He would wanted to tell (Y/N) about that encounter and laugh it off, but he thought that it wasn't the best thing to say as an assurance in any case that things don't go well tomorrow.

If for some reasons that his guts were right, that he was running out of time, he would wanted things to smoothly passed on, and he would allow (Y/N) to move on as easily as possible. How things had been for him for less than twenty-four hours that they've been separated weren't such, and so he penned the one that he definitely thought hard of to be a mirror of those "flowery words" that love letters have, which he found trivial years ago... but one that he considered fitting by now.

My dearest (Y/N), he began right after today's date of the eleventh of December 1941. And he ended it with an I love you, and a complimentary close of Always and forever yours.

Because it was definitely as such.

* * *

There were a few things that he hated as a pilot. No, he loved to fly; there was practically nothing that he could hate about that prospect. Those few things that he hated were those he had no control over: like some emergency maintenances when one instrument wasn't working properly, or when the weather had been too clear a moment ago and suddenly it was raining buckets, or when a scheduled routine flight was changed last minute. He hated those things, because he had nothing else to do but to concede for the prospect of safety.⁴

Like last night's and today's weather. Last night had been rather stale despite the cold December air, and the morning had been a little foggy. It was all good for a morning flight, but by noon, it would definitely cause much wake turbulence on the runway a little harder to dissipate, and shaky cruising, and a little haze to settle. And if the warm air continued to sink amidst the cold temperature, clouds would form. No matter how fluffy those white clouds were, they were an enemy for pilots.⁵

It definitely felt like the calm before the storm, he pondered. And it was ironic that I am leaving before the wedding. But it would only be for a few days, and yet...

(Y/N)'s eyes, despite being clouded with fear and worry, were bright and clear as she explained on about something. She was definitely trying to assure herself that everything would be alright, and she accepted such life, which she was currently narrating on. And she was beautiful, lucky he was to have such a very considerate woman to be his soon-to-be wife.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. He was sad that he was going, hating the idea that after sacrificing days on end that they were apart earlier on, they were to continue with such ordeal because it was part of their job description. He just wanted to remain here with her, continue seeing her every waking moment and be assured that she was always an arm's length away. Being from different bases was agony that sooner or later, his impulse to selfishly take a plane to where she would be would win over. At that, he couldn't help but laugh at how idiotic that thought of his was; as well as her most recent inquiry. They were definitely such a fool of a pair.

"I just love that about you, that's all," he assured her when his laughter surprised her.

"I'll always be with you," she countered, "until death decides otherwise."

"I suppose you have. And I know that much already." His eyes softened as he touched her cheek.

His gaze trailed to every part of her face, remembering already memorized vision of hers like some checklist he needed to go over and over again to ensure that he had it all committed to memory. But just like any checklist, having it all memorized wasn't advisable; one would still need to see it in order not to forget the slightest thing. And it was precisely how (Y/N) was for him. He wanted to continue looking at her, afraid that by the moment he became assured that he could properly remember her, he would lose notice of the very small and finest details.

He added, "What a plot twist you were, (Y/N)."

She was caught off guard by his words that she immediately bit her lower lip.

He never liked her doing such. He never liked seeing her doing something that would cause the faintest of pain, especially when it involved one of everything of her that he loved the most. So he stole her breath from her, took her lips for his, and kissed her as if she was all that mattered.

She was all that mattered for him, and he never cared about anything else.

He wanted it all to last forever, wanted to stay and never dared to be parted away from such beauty. But time was ticking; that when both of them pulled away, he immediately crushed her against him into a tight embrace. He pressed his face against her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent that assured him too well that both of them were safe and alive here in each other's arms.

"César," she whispered as she returned the embrace. "You are my home."

And so are you, he almost said, but instead, he smiled and said in return, "I know. And I love you, (Y/N)." His eyes pricked; like that familiar inkling sensation of not wanting to leave from home because there would be no place—no such person—like it elsewhere. "I want you to remember that."

Not to mention that whenever one left home behind, the comfort and safety of everything attributed to it, seemed to also be left behind. That every single time, it was a goodbye.

* * *

No matter how much people regarded him as a genius, he wasn't that smart to have a very sharp memory to remember every single day. He would be honest that life had a respective routine, and he wanted to remember every single moment. However, a human's mind wasn't made in such a way.

But he had a good recollection of the happy moments. He knew what made (Y/N) smile bashfully, laugh bursting from small giggles, shed a tear when she was fearful or sad, and be furious in worry or anger. He also knew the sound of her voice, the way her eyes sparkled, the curve and taste of her lips, the sweet unique scent she possessed, and the way she carried herself with dignity and confidence brimming with love. He remembered all of it, and never took it for granted. That was why, if he were to be the dutiful and selfless person as always, it was through her that he bent every rule and let the selfish side of him took over.

He knew that it was bound to happen sooner or later. They loved one another, already looking forward to a future together, and any pretense of changing their decisions was too far-fetched; if ever, the only thing that was waiting for them was the moment that he had that ring on her finger with the blessings of everything else visible and invisible in the world.

But he no longer cared, and so did she. If heaven would foresake them for this sin, and hell would open beneath their feet to take them, let the entire universe be damned. It was human's nature to be a sinner, and it was also the great power above's nature to forgive everyone in His mercy.

That was why he was sure of her. He would take her as his tonight if she would be willing. All she just needed to do was asked, and he would be fully hers. No, even if she didn't, even if she didn't want to, he was hers already. Completely.

She had revealed to him what was going on inside her mind, but not what was in her heart. A woman's virtue, he was told, was a delicate matter that a lady treasured with her life, and it was a man's duty not to take it for granted.

True, he would be honest to attribute himself to a respective virtue. He never cared about women before (Y/N) came into his life. It never interested him, until she changed his entire perspective about all those things he considered mundane. Once he thought that he would never, and would definitely be told later on by his parents that he should've just taken the holy vestments. But when he met her, he realized that the only reason such things of romance back then felt trivial was because he was waiting.

He was waiting only for that certain someone. He was waiting to completely belong to that someone. He was waiting to be purely honest that there was no one else before and after; that he was waiting for only one, and he was completely hers.

No matter what the case, he wasn't an idiot. He precisely knew the functions not just because of academics and such, but because boys would still be boys. Too many among his group of friends in college had fallen into the temptation of flatterers; then, among the squad of pilots, who could resist them with their grit and prowess? Aside from the bottles of alcohol drank and boxes of cigarettes smoked, despite conversations about studies and flight training to be shared of mistakes not to be repeated, women had also remained as an engaging topic for most.⁶

That was why he knew what the burning warmth that transcended through his skin, what his love was sending through every nerves, and what her presence alone was making him feel. He wanted to take all of her, just as how he was willing to give all of him to her.

"Do you still wish to be all mine, (Y/N)?" he asked. The last straw that was definitely tethering him not to lose his sanity. From a pilot's perspective, the decision height on whether to continue the approach or commence a missed approach. Whatever came out of her lips would be his sentence as he was a willing prisoner to take the point of no return.⁷

And she pressed her lips against the corner of his, shaking slightly but sure when she whispered the challenge, "Would that make me yours?"

He smiled, relieved. "Mine."

She breathed, "Yours."

He realized that he was yet to know her completely. Nor himself.

Only now that he was to see her completely like the day she was born, unhinged and practically innocent. Only now that he made peace with the monster that was craving for her, that carnal desire that defined him to be a man thirsty and hungry for more than just small intimate assurances. Only now that he was to taste and touch every part of her that no one else had ever done. Only now that he took notice that he loved her beyond physical.

He wanted her everything. Such perfection to only be for him. He wanted all that she was, all that she is, and all that she will be.

"I am yours to do as you will, my love," he assured her. It always took two to tango, and just as how willing he was to take, he was also too willing to give all that (Y/N) desired of him. "Always."

She was his, and he was hers. He knew that Death himself would be so jealous in the end; that by the time he came for him, there would be nothing for him to take—his entire being, his soul and heart, everything was hers and hers alone.

All the same that he would be greedy to consider that everything of (Y/N)'s was his. But, it was fine if she would not be his completely. Despite how troublesome and heavy the thought was, he must be honest with himself in order not to be hurt in the end. That love could be feeble, and fate could be fickle. And for her to stay with such a selfish man as him, it was only fitting for him to be selfless.

All that mattered was that I was hers, he pondered.

He was drown by that absolute bliss, a wave that came seemingly to pull him down the deep chasm, and it was her skin, her face, her scent, her taste—her heart—that captured him like a willing prisoner. Tethered and captivated by all of her for him to pour all of his love for her.

And it wasn't enough. For he was hungrier and thirstier for more of it. He knew that the beast within him, craving for her, would never be sated. For God forgive him; he knew that he would forever need and want her.

* * *

His mind was definitely already attuned to the military and aviation itself. For when he saw red, he already attributed it to the Master Switch, to the Fuel Selector, to the Clutch and Booster, to the Guns, to the Flaps Warning, to the Mixture... and to blood.⁸ And now, as he saw red, he was definitely blinded with rage.

"Three days?" he remembered asking, unsure if he had heard right. But as a pilot, hearing was definitely a very important investment.⁹ "Is that supposed to assure and calm me down?"

"Yes," Godofredo acknowledged with finality. "That's the order, lieutenant."

It felt like he was standing on trial with no judge, since the verdict was already finalized even before the first time he dared open his mouth to explain his side and be submitted to such a ridiculous alcohol test.

He knew the law, knew the effect of alcohol in the body, knew what danger it would be to have alcohol running through his bloodstream and fly; that was why he didn't dare to. In the end, despite proving that he was cleared of the possibility, he was still condemned.¹⁰

The shadows casted in the room by the lone light was still red in his vision. The silence that settled only made his thoughts ran wild of how heavy the suspension had been, like he had been punched to the face. The vacant wall lacking color was red in his vision.

He should calm himself. (Y/N), the woman who loved him, even if that was the case, who've learned just now of the real threat it was to be with someone like him... was standing right there. She remained when all others decided to leave and let him be. She stayed despite the danger which was him.

But there was definitely a point—everything had—wherein they broke and almost gave up. A limit, a tension, a coffin corner.¹¹ That zone that when it was (Y/N)'s he dared to cross, he thought that it would've been much better for him to die than to face her as such.

"We're not meant to live long," he remarked as he stared down at her.

Because he was a coward and a jerk.

"Why..." she asked him, her voice thick with heavy sobs, and she immediately looked away from him, not too fast for him to see her glassy eyes. "Why do you sound so eager to die?"

Did it sounded like that? He pondered his words once again, and it was definitely like that. It was just the truth. Anyone in his field was told the same thing—aviation wasn't all glory and excitement, a small miscalculation would cost anyone's lives.¹²

And he panicked. The red that obscured his vision cleared away, as if brushed by precious tears falling from her eyes as she tried to shied them away. Fuck it all, he was the cause of her tears, her sadness and her anxiety. He was the cause of everything he didn't want her to feel.

"Fuck your ideals," she remarked through gritted teeth and left him all alone.

Now that he made sense of everything—with how the room almost appeared to be set-up as some sort of an interrogation or torture room—it very much was more than a trial court. It felt like he stood in the middle of a death row, and she just didn't practically pranced away to bid a heartful goodbye; she herself became his executor.

* * *

After months of being separated, he missed all of this. He missed this closeness, this feeling of familiarity and peacefulness, this sense of comfort that her mere presence radiated. He missed looking intently at the beautiful sight of her; he missed hearing the vibrant laughter of hers and her melodious voice; he missed catching scent of her sweetness completely unique to her; and he missed the warmth she offered with just being together. And he knew, even without the alliance of heaven and hell to make him see reason, he wanted all of it now for forever.

Now might be the right moment. He was beyond being an air cadet, garnered enough flying hours way much more when he was a dodo, climbed the ranks necessary enough to be the man worthy of protecting his woman. For him, the future was long ago set; but now... Now he wanted to reaffirm it with surety that no matter what happens, it would be the two of them.

"César?" she softly spoke his name, smiling as she gazed back at him. "Ano sa tingin mo ang pakiramdam na makakasama mo ang taong minamahal mo habang-buhay?"

He almost laughed at her question. "Bakit mo naman naitanong bigla?"

"I can't quite imagine it. Alam ko na lahat naman ng kasal ay maganda at masaya dahil parang 'yon ang marka ng panibagong kabanata para sa dalawang taong nagiibigan. On the other hand, madaming tao rin ang nagsasabi na marriage is the 'grave of love'. Either way, it's a significant moment in life," she explained. "Kaya napaisip ako paano kaya iyon sa kanila? I wonder what it is like for people who stay together until the end."

He didn't expect that she would have such inquiries. He had been an only child and saw how his parents were as he was growing up. He witnessed a bunch of fightings and quarrels, almost an equivalent to moments of love and affection; and, in the end, knew that marriage was definitely the point in life wherein two people chose to continue loving one another every day.

"(Y/N), don't let yourself get boxed in by such definition. Marriage is just a legal pact," he answered a few seconds later after pressing his forehead against hers. "What you experience is life itself. Kung sino man ang pinili mo ay siyang representation ng pinili mo na buhay para sa iyo. Love isn't what life is all about, pero naniniwala ako na it can give people the courage to face their choices."

"Sa tingin mo ba may lakas ka ng loob para harapin ang mga desisyon na iyon sa buhay?" she suddenly countered, a captivating smile of hers slowly drawing on her features.

"I do, but I don't know what my chosen one thinks. If I ask you now, how would you answer?" He slowly pulled away from her, fumbled with something from his pocket, and while holding her hand, showed to her the ring that had been resting underneath his pillow ever since his deployment to Lahug, ever since his own mother handed it to him to be given to his beloved.

He didn't think of bending the knee for the sake of traditions—the two of them had always been the non-traditional ones, and he found it folly how men could kneel on one knee proposing, but couldn't then do so for the rest of married life. For him, as he stood right now in front of her, proposing with an evident ring, he wanted to assure her that he would always be with her—to stand as an equal of hers, and he would definitely be willing to bend down the knee throughout their lives for how many times it would be necessary than just one moment of proposal.

"I know that I am not the perfect man, and I'll certainly pressure you, listen to you, argue with you, and love you until the end of my life," he added, smiling hopefully. "And together, we'll be one another's equal as husband and wife. So, (Y/N) (L/N), do you dare to marry me?"

"Bago ko sagutin iyan, may tanong din ako sa iyo," she replied as her smile widened like a giddy kid trying to contain her own excitement, but she was so damn beautiful. "César, do you dare to stay by my side through the mundaneness of life?"

"I do," he answered.

After all, she didn't need to ask. He was the one who asked her to spend the rest of their lives together; because he always considered himself to be unworthy of deserving such a goddess as her. However, her question was proof that they were both in doubt of the future until be assured by one another that no matter what, they would face it together; just as how the ring found a perfect home around her finger.

* * *

As an only child and a son at that, with all of his parents' attention and hopes focused on him, it wasn't a strange thing to be bombarded with questions that concerned one's legacy. Very much, they were willing to offer anyone who would be willing to be given to him on a silver platter; despite the fact that it hadn't been a priority of his as a student.

Well, who could actually blame him? Ever since he had started schooling, he had only been close to boys his age. Any idea of interaction with a girl was very limited to the only few female members of his family. When he was growing up in Negros Occidental, he had a fair share of relationship with his cousins and neighbors, but still not enough to have a stronger idea of interaction with a woman.

Even during his high school and college days, when his friends and classmates and team members would drag him to meet with a group of ladies from other schools, no one interested him to the point that he was so close to envisioning his life forever be only caught up with chemicals and the likes. Or even led his mother to push him to pursue a calling to take the holy rites, which he also didn't envision himself to be at.

That was why, when he told his parents, after twenty-four years of existence, that he was, in fact, in a relationship that they've prayed for who knew how long, they've been quick and insistent to finally meet the lady whom their son caught sight of.

And the said woman, despite the initial excitement of his parents, had been sighing heavily and fidgeting with her skirts for the nth time since they've left the apartment. They've recently started living together, one that actually led for him to finally reveal to his parents that he had a woman in his life and the likes of his strongly-knitted Catholic family about the views of such.

"Stop fidgeting, (Y/N)," he assured for the nth time, too; almost laughing at her unnecessary concerns. "They'll love you."

"We are talking about your parents. Your. Parents. Not just anyone," she countered.

"Yes, they are my parents. At dahil doon kaya mas alam ko that they'll love you," he added. "Hindi na ako magugulat kung mararamdaman ko na mukhang mas anak ka pa nila kaysa sa akin."

"I doubt it. Ikaw 'yong anak nila. At sabi nila Clara, at ng mga kasamahan mo, na... malamang, iba 'yong feeling pa rin na ma-meet ko 'yong parents mo. I feel like I'll be judged to be the woman who'll be taking away their son from them."

He couldn't help frowning and the smile he had only widened as he focus on with driving. "To be honest, it was never the woman who took sons away from the family. It was the other way around. Specifically, ikaw nga itong hinahatak ko sa pamilya ko. You're the one joining the family." He sighed heavily. "At hindi ko inaasahan na hihingi ka pa talaga ng payo mula sa mga kasamahan mo, at maging sa mga kasamahan ko. Ilan lang ba sa kanila ang matitinong kausap?"

"Ugh! Call it hitting rock bottom."

"Seriously, (Y/N), my love. Wala ka talaga dapat ipagalala," he assured. "Trust me. Sinisigurado ko na sasambahin ka pa talaga nila."

"Hindi naman ako santo."

He casted a quick look of her, and even in such a very anxious phase, she was ethereal. She was definitely a goddess in his eyes, and if only she could see what he could see... He scoffed a laughter. "Just relax, wait, and you'll see."

It was as he had said. His parents loved her. Even at first meeting. His parents were very frank people who would not hide behind fake smiles and attentions, and they definitely looked at (Y/N) as if she was their savior. Apparently, it appeared that way that she was indeed, for even having the nerves to choose their son as he was among countless other suitors. It was, as if, just looking at her presence at first sight, and their minds were already filled with of the future.

I do not mind, he thought as he watched his parents be very interested of the woman he loved so badly since first meeting. I do not mind if they'll very much want her to be their daughter.

After all, that was the objective. For (Y/N) not to only feel and know that of his love; but as well as those he could trust would also treasure her the way he did. Because, for a pilot, it was a priority to ensure that their loved ones would never be alone when things didn't go too well for them.

* * *

They said that nothing could be compared to the beauty of flight. He knew of it firsthand. But until today, he couldn't comprehend the succeeding line saying "You'll no longer be the same after the first."

At first, he thought that it would be linked to the first hour of flying. But no, he had logged hours and nothing felt any different. Not until today that he sat at the back-end of a Boeing Stearman 73L-3, when he had been seated at the front seat for who knew how many hours prior. It only meant one thing for them trainees: in order to maintain the principle of the center of gravity, one would need to be at the back seat for flying solo.¹³

He was filled with too many emotions. He was excited and full of too many expectations that he had been finally granted the chance to test his skills without the doubt that a flight instructor was doing something behind his controls; being alone, he knew that whatever movement the plane would do under his command was his own. He was anxious and nervous; anyone trying something for the first time all alone would be, especially now that it was a matter of life and death.¹⁴

No matter how funny such a notion it was to think of, all that mattered right now was to do everything—a culmination of all he had learned into practice—to land the plane. Alive.¹⁵

After all, it was a common misconception for most that there was no danger at ground roll. The very moment that the throttle was pushed all in to the max, anything then could go wrong. There could be a change in wind direction and there would not be any enough runway ahead for lift to build. A sudden wind could throw one off the track during climb as gravity was defied. Very much as well with how it would be with approach and landing. The dangers could go on a very long list.¹⁶

But for an ambitious one, defying death time and time again with the pulse of the engine and the propeller spinning, he finally understood what it meant to fly solo for the first time, and return back to earth as a changed man.

For a pilot, nothing would actually beat the feeling of such a milestone. In the end, it was a mark that truly made one be called as a 'pilot'.¹⁷

However, all those congratulations were meaningless. All the marks of being a student removed when his shirt's tail was finally cut off. Being drenched wet as his clothes stick against his frame with the traditional water baptism for such an event.¹⁸ Everything no longer mattered upon finding her there with the rest of their companies—his squad, and her team.

Of course, the greatest worries for both sides was whenever someone was to embark on their first solo flights. Everything could be a complete celebration or an absolute disaster.¹⁹

In that moment, nothing seemed to have mattered. Because (Y/N) was there during the best marking of his chosen career. After always being there through his flaws and sufferings, he was perhaps the luckiest to find one who've been with him through it all and stick with him to reach his success.

"Congratulations," she remarked with a shy smile she couldn't suppress. "You're now part of the very few. Sabi ko naman sa iyo na kaya mo."

"Yes, you did," he agreed as he chuckled and ran his fingers through his wet hair. "I just know that I needed to. Even though being up in the air felt like home, I..." He slightly shook his head, thinking of something foolish to say. "Thank you."

(Y/N) then reached out for his freehand, causing him to freeze at her sudden action. And as she appeared quite too focus with whatever she was doing, she didn't realize the blush that instantly creeped through his cheeks as he observed her sudden boldness. Only after that she held on his hand again; this time, with something foreign circling his wrist.

"Ano ito?" he asked, and he couldn't help teasing her. "Is this some sort of an air corps medical tradition?"

She pouted at him, embarrassed.

He laughed and tentatively touched the bracelet's plate with his freehand. It was a simple design with a simple chain, and when he turned it around, an elegant script of a name was printed.

(Y/N), it read.

And his heart skipped a beat as he slowly looked back at her, seeing the slight flush on her cheeks. He tentatively inquired, "This... Are you making me your property? Does this make me yours?"

"Yes," (Y/N) answered, quite confidently as she nodded in agreement. She twined her fingers with his and with that hint of possessiveness that helplessly made him fall way much harder, she continued, "Mine. You are mine, César Basa."

Yours, as his answer would always be. Always and forever yours.

* * *

He never thought that time would matter. In life, he let it moved because there was no way that he could just stop it right there. However, with flying, every second counted.

Time counted for every split decision, for every sudden change, for every deviation that were in need to be counted, for every reaction to whatever could happen if one do this and that, and for every moment one was up in the air as it was logged down as flying hours.²⁰ After all, for a pilot, being on the ground didn't merit experience or any lesson; whatever he learned up until today was a culmination of theories taught in a classroom and the real deal being high up in the clouds.²¹

He sighed heavily before craning his neck to look up at the half-moon hanging above the otherwise dark sky. "Nakalipad ko kanina si Kapitan Villamor," he began. "Kabadong-kabado ako dahil hindi siya nagsalita buong lipad namin. Noong makakaba na lamang kami, doon niya lang sinabi sa akin na mag-solo na raw ako bukas."

"Oh! Hindi ka ba masaya? 'Di ba 'yon na 'yong hinihintay mo? At anong oras bukas? 'Di ba madalas during first flights ang mga first solo?" she remarked, a series of questions suddenly springing from her that he couldn't help but to laugh and look at her, the two of them seated outside her barracks' steps with a shawl around her frame. Due to the lone light from the barrack's entrance, she appeared truly curious.

However, he didn't know what he would be answering first. "Isa-isang tanong lang. Mahina po ang kalaban. Mas lalo akong kinakabahan sa dami ng tanong mo."

"Puwede kita bigyan ng pangpakalma, kung gusto mo. Ilang oras pa naman kaya mawawala na rin 'yong epekto no'n bukas bago ang lipad mo. Anong oras nga ba?"

"First flight. Habang maganda ang weather. At hindi pwede uminom ng kung anuman na gamot kahit na bukas pa ng umaga. Baka naman hindi ako magising, at lalong hindi ako nakapag-solo."²²

"Hindi naman lason ang ibibigay ko sa iyo, eh."

"I know. What I mean is baka maging masyado akong kampante at late ako magising. And, in a sense..." He sighed heavily as he once again looked up at the night sky. "I guess being anxious has its advantage. Hindi ako magiging masyadong kampante na alam ko na ang lahat, at hindi rin magiging ganoon kataas ang standards ko sa anuman ang mangyayari bukas."

"Ano ba sa tingin mo ang puwedeng mangyari? Si Kapitan Villamor na nga ang nagsabi na puwede ka na mag-solo?" she inquired.

"Na bukas baka mamatay ako," he stated. It didn't take long before he was smacked hard on his shoulder, causing him to turn back to her at once.

"Ano bang pag-iisip 'yan?" (Y/N) questioned, visibly furious with his wording. She proceed to smack him once more. "Bawiin mo 'yon!"

This time, as he tried to evade her assault, he couldn't help but to laugh. "I'm just saying the truth. Anything could happen every time that we're up in the air, (Y/N). Kahit naman no'ng may mga kasama akong flight instructors, may mga small mishaps na nangyayari na hindi naman maiiwasan. Kasalanan ko ba kung mismong eroplano na 'yong nagkaproblema?"²³

"Kaya nga binigyan ka na ng clearance na mag-solo dahil alam mo na ang lahat na dapat mong malaman. Na alam mo na kung ano ang gagawin kapag nagkaproblema habang nasa ere ka. Kaya bawiin mo talaga 'yon!"

"Okay, okay." He caught her wrist at that and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles, causing her to blush at once. "Binabawi ko na. Makakapag-solo ako at walang magiging problema, okay?"

He hated himself at that moment. That he needed to lie just to assure her. Whether she knew that he was lying, or that she let it slide, it didn't matter for him. He still lied to her; because it was a trailing thought every single time that he was in the cockpit. Anything could happen; and even to the most masterful, if Death arrived to claim, there was nothing to sell in return.

"Okay na?" he inquired softly.

"You better," she replied. "May sasabihin pa ako sa iyo pagkatapos ng solo mo."

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but finding her being so defiant to say such a thing, he let it slide. "Now, that's a very much valid reason for me to return alive."

* * *

Sooner or later, their paths were meant to cross. That was how destiny was supposed to be, after all. It might not be yesterday, today or tomorrow; or here or there. But, one way or another, it would be.

He knew it to be true. He believed on it. After all, he waited for that moment all his life. He almost didn't trust that the lines of his destiny would be entwined with another; however, it did.

And so, he wondered. If he had chosen differently and continued to pursue his career in chemistry, perhaps their meeting would be somewhere else and sometime later. Hence, all of it; everything that spoke now, a result of both of their choices, led them together to this.

A man, surrounded by his own aspiring group of aviators, would always be dragged along to meet and be bold to cross the distance in reaching out for that first 'hello' to a woman, accompanied by her own colleagues of medical practitioners. Even if it appeared that someone else from their group led them to one another, the most powerful and highest command guided them to be the half of the other.

An innocent greeting, and a guilty pleasure of knowing one another's existence.

Bashfully, she introduced herself after ensuring that she remembered his name. And God forgave him for praying that only his name would ever be spoken by her; and might the Almighty, indeed, allowed him to be forgiven another time to be given the privilege of speaking her name forever.

"(Y/N)," he said, confirming he heard right. The way her name rolled through his tongue ever so smoothly was almost intoxicating. A part of him knew that it would be the name he would be praying until the end of time.

She blushed, nodded, and smiled bashfully.

He once again repeated her name through his thoughts again and again, and thought of how beautiful and peaceful it was. So, he repeated, with an audible hint of growing reverence, "(Y/N)."

* * *

It started that way, and at that first meeting, he knew then how it would end. No matter how Death would claim him, he knew. He knew that it would be her. Always.

And for the last time, he did still spoke it with too much veneration.

A last worship.

"(Y/N)."

* * *

A/N: Vote, comment and share! Whatever you do means a lot to me, and I am really wishing for some feedback!

A few list of notes/flight trivia to share! (Not few, when it is a very long list though! And you might have noticed the subscripts on some lines above, to which the notes below were focused on.)
1. Physics and chemistry are the foundations of aviation, especially the former. The principle and theory behind the beauty of flight is explained with the concept of physics in mind, and correlated with chemistry.
2. For a pilot and a trained one at that, knowing the theory behind the art of flying, specifications and necessary rule of thumb formulae are second-nature than anything else. So, forgive us for speaking too much technicalities; because being a pilot is equivalent to truly being part of a complex machine.
3. A pilot isn't simply a navigator or driver in the sky. To be exact, we are also analysts (understanding the pros and cons in order to be one step ahead of the plane itself); strategists (decision-makers for ensuring a safe flight, comfort is always secondary); lawyer (as we have a specific subject known as Air Law that dealt with everything about flying, licensure, sanctions, conventions and yeah, all the laws related to aviation); engineer (because we need to know how to solve a problem mid-air and understand what its effect will be); mechanic (because we also tend to memorize every part of the plane until the very last bolt); doctor (we also study aeromedical and the effect of flying to the body and how to treat instances as such); meteorologist (due to weather predictions and everything); and countless others. Haven't I also said that we're also like some DJs for talking and speaking over the radio with too many out there listening and speaking; and even be some sort of a customer service agent for the passengers?
4. Ask a pilot and one will definitely say that we all love flying; but we hate instances that hinder us from flying. Like weather, illnesses, and age.
5. It is not only a sailor's saying, but also of us pilots that when it rains in the evening, there will be fairer and clear skies the following morning (at least, if there is no predicted bad weather like storms coming!). Additionally, due to the cold temperature during the last and first months of the year, gases are trapped due to the heat in the higher levels causing fog (which is 50 feet above the ground) and haze (the one way beyond a fog's height). And even if they were to disperse by the sunlight, by the time that the warm temperature by noon settled, the wake turbulence from planes, especially takeoff and landing ones, take longer time to dissipate on the runway causing longer ground effect.
6. Even though I am a woman in the field still heavily dominated by men, I have my fair share of being part of drunken discussions with my batch mates and flight instructors alike about flight experiences, emergencies, close-calls, accidents, and women. Roughly half of the topic over alcohol and cigarettes were definitely about experiences in flight, but half of it as well are also about everyone's love life. To tell you, a close flight instructor of mine even asked for my help regarding a woman he was trying to court; not to mention that FIs are definitely the number one marites-people I know of, especially when there is nothing to talk about during flights.
7. Decision height (for non-precision approaches) or minimum decision altitude (for precision approaches) truly meant to be the point where a missed approach is initiated, with the inquiries if the runway is not on sight and that a safe landing is in question. For César, in the given scenario, he compared it as such because for a pilot, way passed that point and there is no other way but to land. The so-called point of no return.
8. As usual, the color red is attributed to "warning" and essential switches aboard an aircraft. There are too many color-coded parts of an aircraft, from the instruments to switches to readings and to lights; hence, one of the criteria needed to be a pilot is to prove that one isn't colorblind. To give you a background of the wide array of colors, an Airbus A320 PFD (Primary Flight Display) and ND (Navigation Display) has a variety of color codes that ranges from red, amber, yellow, blue, green, magenta, white and black.
9. Aside from the fact that a pilot isn't allowed to be colorblind, hearing is another important part of a pilot's medical. Audiometry test is needed every five years for an issuance of a medical license aside from those needed to be accomplished annually.
10. As earlier mentioned in number 3, we know the law and the effects of alcohol in the body. A pilot needs to only have 0.04% alcohol and hadn't taken one for the past 8 months. Flying under the influence of alcohol may result to the revocation of license.
11. Coffin corner is not perchance the absolute limit in aviation; it is the point where a small mishaps will cause the aircraft to stall, but it still means that death-related accident could occur due to its danger. Of course, every aircraft has its absolute ceiling, the limit altitude it could fly; anything beyond that limit and yeah... there goes your coffin corner.
12. True. Contrary to popular belief, aviation wasn't all "glory and excitement". Yeah, it is beautiful and one that only a privilege few managed to have a taste of their own. However, no one could actually replicate the truth behind it all. Very much not stories written with a stereotypical pilot by a writer with no experience with flying itself. Yes, you can research a thing or two, but it is all just the tip of the iceberg. The very reason why I try to incorporate as much technical aspects of flying as possible throughout this story and to my other series (FLIGHT series) to be an eye-opener about the truth of aviation. It is a very technical world, which we needed to love wholeheartedly; because, if a pilot didn't talk about flying as a love story, it isn't a genuine passion at all.
13. Think of the plane as a boat, and buoyancy works. For aviation, the center of gravity is important as a CG too aft and too forward has their advantages and disadvantages. For a solo flight with the Boeing Stearman 73L-3, to keep up with the CG, the pilot needs to be seated on the back seat.
14. First solo flight... Truly, no one can explain and match that respective thrill and excitement. It is, after all, the best and most remarkable and memorable event of any pilot's life. I could attest to it much. (Earning my IR license comes relatively second, compared to my PPL and CPL tbh!) Because, flying solo for the first time is the incorporation of everything you've learned, and you're finally really sure that whatever movement the aircraft does is what you willed it to be; and no longer have the doubt that the flight instructor is doing something behind your back!
15. This one is very much my own thought. During my first solo flight, the only thing I have in mind after airborne is to land the plane alive. As I am always told, "Any landing you can walk away from is a good one." For a first soloist, that's all that mattered. The rest can be polished by experienced.
16. Most aircraft accidents happen during takeoff and landing; cruise, by far is the safest. But in my opinion, landings are still the most dangerous ones due to the workload, the time doing those things, and the fatigue after the entire flight. Anyway, anything could still happen throughout the flight; the same way that anything could also happen when one is driving from one point to its destination. Hence, when you're traveling by air, follow the seatbelt signs! Accidents could still happen during taxiing from landing and to the gate! Not to mention that pilots are also being sanctioned for passengers standing during taxiing!
17. As I've mentioned from number 14, first solo couldn't really match anything else. After my first solo, having to pick up my first solo release flight instructor from the tower, he was the first one to call me "Captain". There are too many definitions when to call one, but succeeding the first solo is definitely a start of it.
18. First solo had its rituals. In the olden days, a student's shirt tail was cut off because, like that of the Boeing Stearman 73L-3, wherein the flight instructor sits behind the student, tugging that shirt tail is done to call for the student's attention. Cutting it off is a sign that the student no longer needs to be called for after a successful first solo. And one that remained until today is the traditional water baptism. Yeah, after the first solo, you're practically drenched in water. For us, you're actually meant to be carried out of the cockpit and to wherever you're to be 'baptized', usually not allowing one's feet to touch the ground for such ritual. Nowadays, people starts to be 'creative' of what to mix with that water. (My experience, it was made of water and malunggay leaves. That was no joke.).
19. Despite the thrill of first solo flights, not only for the pilot, but to colleagues alike, it is also one filled with worries and expectations; much especially for those who've released the student for first solo. Anything wrong could still happen despite fully knowing that one could be granted the chance to finally fly the plane alone with no supervision. I have an encounter that a student on his first solo had applied the brakes too heavily during landing roll that turned the plane upside-down; hence, even if one succeeded with the first solo flight and land, it doesn't end to that alone but also having good airmanship of the aircraft until parking.
20. For passengers, flying might take a very long time. In a sense, yes; but it could only be regarded for cruising. There is a long list of pre-planning and preparation before flight, a quick judgment during takeoff and landing, and post-briefings afterwards. For pilots, every second counts, especially in emergencies. Not just in the prospect that minutes matter for the logged flying hours, but also with safety as the topmost priority. One could even say why pilots are regarded highly of respect is because we're trained to be one with the machine and be quick in detecting the best course of action to everything involving a flight. Sorry to say but comfort only comes second.
21. The only thing that most people will see of pilots are our logged flying hours (the time that we've spent on an actual plane or moving simulator); no one had shown the inside or what it takes before all of it, and the ground training is the longest aspect of it all. For pilots, it is a continuous learning process. When we're not flying, we make up our time while on ground to refresh our notes and make evaluations of how to perform better the next time. At the same time, all those ground lessons will not make us better pilots, first-hand experience would. Hence, it is ironic; but aviation, whether on ground or in flight, is always a classroom for us.
22. First solo flights are usually done in the morning, when the weather is usually fairer and turbulence isn't much of a problem. That's why, it is preferable to take a morning flight to avoid experiencing turbulence. Additionally, even though one isn't having his/her first solo flight, taking medications that can pose an effect to a pilot's judgment is not allowed. It is part of a pilot's self-check whether he is ready for flight: "Illness, Medication, Stress, Alcohol, Fatigue, Eat" (IM SAFE).
23. Though the leading cause of aircraft accidents and incidents are due to human error, the secondary adversaries are weather and mechanical failure. To be honest, due to the latter two, a lack of assertiveness and action from the crew leads to something much worse. Despite the fact that air travel is considered to be the safest form of transportation, it didn't mean that everything about the machine is perfect.

Chapter title: Touchdown. Just like how the story had been set as the events upon touchdown, I think it is a fitting title for how every flight's chapter was to end. For César's case, it also ended with a chapter close for him.

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