"Come back to me".
Four small words. Anyone could have said 'em. But it was him, and so they echoed inside her head constantly. If she closed her eyes tight enough, she could feel the roughness of his skin against hers, the soothing motion of his thumb circling hers. She could see the thousand unspoken things swimming just behind his eyes, unspoken things that might have been spoken if Kinders hadn't come charging into the med tent seconds later. And so, instead of knowing, she dared to dream of what more he could have said, what more might have happened without the interruption.
Sometimes she wondered if it was just him being a good soldier, a good captain, making his soldiers feel valued and part of a team. But more often she hoped those four little words meant that he felt the same way she did.
…
"Come back to me".
Four small words. Anyone could have said them. But it was him, to her, and they echoed inside his head constantly. Had he given too much of himself away in those moments? He was on his fourth tour of Afghan, an Army man dyed khaki through and through, and yet he was risking everything he had ever worked for on a few throwaway glances and the electric whisper of skin on skin. She challenged his expectations of her every day, and every day she rose beyond them. Slowly and surely, what had started as exasperation at her constant cheekiness and disregard for rules and regulations, had developed into a begrudging acceptance, and then again into a not so begrudging fondness. And now, as he watched her stumble towards the waiting helicopter, his heart was in his mouth, and he realised it wasn't truly his heart anymore. He hadn't known until now how much he had meant those four small words.
Come back to me.