AN. I've never tried a Molly point of view before, but this one-shot came into my head and refused to leave me alone. It was a bit of a new challenge to write it, hopefully some of you will enjoy.

Thanks to itsembarrassing and pinerug for encouragement and pointers with this. If it wasn't for them it would probably still be sitting unfinished! Thanks also to those who have asked about Seeking Satisfaction. Have been having a bit of a mental block with it, but hoping to get a move on soon. Title for this one came from the R.E.M song Nightswimming, which gave me the initial idea for the story. Disclaimer - I don't own Our Girl, or R.E.M. Or Captain James (sadly) :-)

The waves were the only noise I could make out around me when I set out my towel and lay down, letting my head fall back onto the sand. It was gone midnight now, and the sun we'd arrived to that afternoon was long gone. There was still a warm heat in the air, and a breeze coming in from the water. Nothing in comparison to the dry heat we'd been dealing with on tour for 6 months, but warmer than it was bound to be at home.

We'd flown into Cyprus that morning, all of us still fragged from the mission to capture Badrai. It'd almost gone tits up four days ago, when Smurf lost the plot and let rip at an innocent farmer. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and then the poor sod, well his goat actually, ended up at the wrong end of Smurf's rifle. Christ only knows what the Welsh twat was playing at. He'd been called straight to a debrief when the chopper landed at Bastion and hadn't said a word to me since. Well, nothing more than a grunt and a dirty look when I'd asked him if he was ok this afternoon, after we got off the plane. We were back to the days where he'd sent me to Coventry at the start of the tour, only this time I didn't have it in me to give a shit.

Our section were the only ones to actually get off the plane when it landed in Cyprus. The rest were all going straight to Brize for R&R. It reminded me of the last time I was on that plane. It was a different story with Smurf at that point. Back then it had been all obvious touches and flirting, now he wouldn't even look at me. Silence was better actually, it meant I didn't have to worry about him pawing at me.

Smurf wasn't the only one pretending I didn't exist though. The boss had barely said two words to me since we got back to Bastion from the mission. Not that he'd had much of a chance, he'd been nowhere to be seen for most of the time. I'd think it must take a fair bit of paperwork to be filled out when one of your men goes mental and starts taking shots at random farmers and their goats. I still don't have a clue what caused Smurf's shit fit, all I know is he's lucky to be alive. We all are.

When Badrai appeared in that truck shooting rounds from his rifle, the only thing I could do was try and keep a clear enough head to focus and take the shot. The mission was to capture, not kill. As soon as my eyes met his though, I knew it was either him or me. The screams of those women in the back of the truck when his body fell to the ground are still running through my nut. I can't get rid of them no matter how hard I try. They'd surrounded his body, screaming and shouting in the chaos. It's still a blur now. The only thing I remember clearly was taking a shot before the boss could get back from Smurf to me. I was too late though, and I hit the back of the truck. He'd already been shot in the head. I owe my life to Dangles. Who would have known the skinny little prick would be such a shit hot shot under pressure?

We'd hardly had a chance to breathe and give our after action statements back at Bastion when Beck pulled us in to tell us that our tour was over; that we were heading to Cyprus for decompression. I'd tried to ignore the weirdness coming from him when he took me to the side to thank me for my service. It was almost like there was something else he wanted to say, but he didn't. He just shook my hand in the end, and sent me away. After that, it was a rush of packing my kit up, and trying not to stand still and remember those screams.

The other memory I was trying to get my head round was completely different, but scared me just as much. Maybe even more. That little compound in the middle of nowhere had been the scene for one of the strangest moments I've ever known. It was beautiful, but it wasn't real. Things like that just don't happen to Molly Dawes, the girl who barely even got in the army. They don't happen to the likes of me, full stop. It's never going to happen with me and the boss, and I need to accept that.

I know from the way he acted after the compound that he only said those things, he only kissed me like that and said those words because he was scared of dying. Or of me dying hating him for not telling me the truth, I don't know which, to be honest. Now that the danger was over he'd pulled away again, seen sense. That almost hurt me more than that fucking horrific moment in the wardrobe when I found out the truth about his wife.

It all went some of the way to explaining why I was lying on a dark Cyprus beach at midnight instead of sleeping. All of a sudden I was cursing my decision to let the lads have my four drink tokens. We'd been handed them along with our civvies when we arrived at the decompression base - four tokens gets you four beers or a bottle of wine. If I'd had that after 6 months of no booze, I'd have been out like a light by now, instead of lying on the beach tormenting myself.

I sat up and tried to concentrate on the waves, they were playing like one of them relaxation CD's that they try and get you to listen to, swishing in and out so that you get a calmness in your nut. It wasn't working for me but give it time. I started watching a figure out swimming in the sea. From where I was sat on the beach I could watch the body pushing through the water with total confidence. And it was one fine body, all muscle and strong arms pushing forward to carry him through the waves. I felt a bit like a nosy neighbour peeping through the curtains, concentrating on the stranger swimming towards what he probably thought was an empty beach. But for some reason, the sight made me feel better, so I carried on watching.

He stopped swimming when it got too shallow and lifted himself out the water quickly, walking in through the shallow water. It was at that point my heart caught in my chest. I tried to pretend I hadn't been watching so closely when he crouched down and pulled a towel that I hadn't noticed from the sand before standing up.

I knew it was him as soon as I saw him walk out of the sea onto the sand. You couldn't mistake his long, lean body anywhere. And I'm willing to bet I've spent longer thinking about it than most. He was only wearing a pair of long shorts, ones that were soaked and sticking to his legs as he walked. It was pointless pretending I wasn't here and hadn't seen him, he was heading straight for me.

Shit. My head is nowhere near straight enough for this conversation.

"Hi."

I heard myself say it really casually, feeling anything but casual. He was looking at me carefully, like he couldn't decide whether to carry on walking past or stop and speak to me. Just carry on, please. I can't take my hopes being lifted anymore. Just be a bastard. Ignore me and carry on walking.

"Hello"

Oh god, this is awkward. Neither of us can even look at each other. I'm focusing on a grain of sand under my fingernail that's suddenly really interesting even though I can barely make it out in the moonlight. God only knows what he's thinking. I need to try and break this awkward silence.

"Couldn't sleep?" Keep it casual Molls. Maybe he's having the same problem as me; finding the whole decompression thing a complete piss-take.

"Something like that." He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else after that, before he closed it and changed his mind, shaking his head. Drops of water were trailing down from his soaking hair, running tracks along his face. He seemed to suddenly register that he was wringing wet, and used the towel in his hands to soak up the drops from his hair and shoulders.

Lucky fucking towel, that's all I can say.

I tried not to watch the muscles in his shoulders flexing when he dried his top half with the towel, I really did. I forced myself to look at his face, not that it helped. He wasn't looking away like I thought he would be. He was staring back at me, like he was about to give me an order. I felt like I was pinned to the towel I was sitting on, trapped, and he wasn't even touching me. We'd only even said a few words to each other. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I couldn't help but have a quick look down at his stomach, all the lines of muscles. I wanted to touch them, my fingers were itching. It reminded me of that day at the FOB with the paddling pool. It'd been hell to ignore the sight of him in front of me then, and concentrate on the intel from Bashira. Now it was even harder. We were completely alone, on a deserted, almost pitch black beach, not on duty any more. Maybe that's why I felt like my heart might explode out my chest, I could practically hear it roaring in my ears.

He seemed to pick up on the fact that I was jumpy and crouched down beside the towel I sat on.

"Room for another?"

He didn't wait for an answer and sat down beside me. All I could hear were his wet shorts squelching onto my towel. I edged away, scared of how I'd react if he got any closer to me.

"Don't come too close boss, you'll get me all wet."

He stopped moving around for a minute, though I could feel his shoulders shaking with laughter beside me, as he suddenly found looking at the sand just as interesting as I did. Then he turned round to look at me, and as soon as I saw the smirk on his face, I realised just what the fuck I'd said.

Christ's sake Molls, you don't help yourself do you? I could feel my cheeks get roasting hot before he even said anything.

"You and your euphemisms Dawes."

"Molly." I said it quietly, still mortified from my big mouth and trying to bring it back to small talk.

He looked confused, like the mention of my name had thrown him. "Sorry?"

"You can call me Molly, if you like. Since we're not on duty." I offered it up as a small thing, like it didn't completely change things between us. First names are one of those things that sometimes feel off limits in the army, especially with your CO. Then again, I suppose we'd already gone so far past the limit, what was wrong with adding more? I'd never heard him call me by my real name before, only the 2 section lads did that. I didn't even know his first name. Although it turns out there's plenty I didn't know about him, his name was just a drop in the ocean.

"Molly." He tried it out for size and straight away, I loved the way it rolled off his lips, all posh and that. He saw my pleased smile and followed it with a small laugh of his own, bumping his shoulder off mine quickly. Even though a t-shirt covered the tops of my arms, I felt the contact like a hot iron. He grinned again and looked at me, holding out his hand as if he was going to shake mine.

"Charles"

I didn't mean to do it, but I screwed my face up as soon as he said it, trying to hold back a laugh.

"I'm hurt, Dawes." He stopped and corrected himself. "Molly." When I couldn't help laughing, he carried on. "I tell you my name and you snigger. Stop fucking sniggering."

That was another word I loved hearing him say in his posh boy voice. Fuck. Fucking. Only he could make it sound like something halfway respectable. He had a petted lip about the name thing so I tried to stop the wave of laughter I felt building up again.

"Sorry. It's a bit bleedin' posh though. Charles James." I tried it out with the poshest accent I could attempt, drawing out the vowels. He grinned at my shitty attempt at talking proper.

His hand was still hanging between us after his introduction, and I took it, letting them move together in a handshake. His fingers reached forwards and held onto my wrist, as he shook my hand, stroking the skin on the inside of it. It took me back to the FOB again, when our fingers were stroking each other with the sun beating off them. Only this time I could barely see them in the low moonlight, all I could do was feel his fingers as they moved and drew circles upwards onto the palm of my hand. We weren't shaking hands anymore. This was dangerous, and I knew it. This time there was no Kinders, no interruptions, and I was totally conscious of the way his eyes were moving over me, looking at me in my civvies for the first time. It was only a t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts that I'd chucked in my bag in a hurry before going on tour, but it was better than my PT kit or a West Ham shirt. It looked like he might have thought so too.

He looked happy enough, till his eyes caught on something as they moved over my body, and I felt him go still beside me, pulling his hand away suddenly. He looked me straight in the eye, and I could feel the attitude come off him in waves, just like it did in the med tent when I got back from R&R. He was pulling the exact same face, lips in a thin line and drawing his cheeks together as he looked away again, back at my chest. Christ, what had I done this time? This hot and cold routine was beginning to piss me off. That was, until I realised just what he was looking at. Then I understood.

"It's true then? You said yes?"

He watched the ring hanging from my necklace as he spoke, talking in that way that he did when he was about to bollock you. Captain James was back obviously; no more Charles. I looked down. The diamonds from the ring were glittering in the low light. He couldn't exactly miss it. Shit.

"It's on my neck, not my finger." I felt fucking miserable all of a sudden, not to mention on the defence. When would this ever be easy? There was always something waiting to come between us. My answer didn't help, and he straightened up even more, moving away from me.

"So what does that mean? Maybe? Usually if you say no to a proposal you don't get to keep the fucking ring." He shook his head, not bothering to even look at me, his mouth tight and rigid.

"I'm keeping it till he needs it." Even as the words left my mouth, I knew how bloody ridiculous I sounded. But then I remembered just how hurt and angry I'd felt locked away in that wardrobe, realising he'd lied to me. I wasn't the only idiot sitting on this beach.

"Bollocks" he muttered under his breath, continuing when I glared at him. "You really think Smurf believes that?" He'd hit a nerve and all I could do was argue back.

"Where's your wedding ring then? Hidden away in your Bergen so nobody asks about it?" I could tell I'd pissed him off when his jaw tensed even more and he looked out towards the sea. Bet he wished he'd carried on with his swim now. Even I'd rather be in the sea than having this conversation, and I can't bloody swim.

He took a deep breath before he said anything else. "I'm not married anymore."

I was confused for a second, wondering what the hell he meant. "Thought you'd just split up?"

"Divorced now. She walked when I was on my second tour."

"That wasn't what you said at Bastion."

"My head was all over the fucking place at Bastion. I was terrified somebody would hear us screaming at each other, just needed to make sure you understood. I'll show you the paperwork if you don't believe me. The divorce came through at the start of the tour."

Silence. My mind was whirring at the speed of the conversation.

"I believe you." It was a small voice, and I wasn't even sure it had come from me, but we both heard it. He sighed loudly, and took my hand again, this time holding it in his two big hands, covering it up completely so that I couldn't see it anymore.

"I've got no right to judge you or Smurf. Sorry." His jaw was still tense, but the rest of him didn't look tense. He was slumping, backing away from me. The only contact was our hands, and he tried to pull them away before I stopped him, pulling his hand back into mine. I knew I had to explain myself, and quickly.

"There's nothing between me and Smurf. I meant it, that I'm just keeping the ring till he needs it." He watched me as I spoke, obviously waiting to say something. As a last minute thought, I added another point. "Not that he's talking to me right now for me to give it back anyway."

There was a quick little sarcastic laugh from him, but I had no clue what was so funny. He looked at me with that stare that he does so well, the one that can knock the wind right out of you.

"He knows."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. He could have been talking about anything, but I knew exactly what he meant. Suddenly it all clicked into place. The outburst at the compound, Smurf's meltdown, his attitude to me ever since.

"He heard, didn't he?"

"Heard and saw." The boss winced in front of me, pulling his hands away successfully this time. I was so shocked that all I could do was let him. "He told Beck in his mission debrief, tried to justify his actions by saying he'd seen me trying it on with his fiancé."

That word, fiancé, dragged from his lips like it physically hurt him to say it.

My blood ran cold at his words, knowing that I'd fucked it all up. Everything had gone to shit, all because I couldn't control myself till we got home.

"I'll fucking kill that little tosser." I pulled away to stand before he pulled me back down with his arm. It reached my waist and he pulled me back onto the towel beside him without any effort, tucking me into his side with his arm before I had a chance to pull back. If he was trying to distract me, it worked. I could smell the salt from the sea as I breathed in the smell of his skin so close to me. I'd almost forgot how little he had on till I felt the warm skin of his chest against me.

"Don't worry" his voice was low and reassuring as he rubbed his hand up and down my arm. "You're in the clear. I told Beck you had nothing to do with it, that I'd confessed to my feelings in the compound, but that you didn't feel the same. It's only me who Smurf wants to hurt. Let him."

"No!"

"No?" He repeated what I'd said. As soon as he said it, I realised this wasn't a request coming from him. It was an order. And not one I was going to obey.

"Molly." His tone was low and quiet, and I shivered this time when he said it, though I wasn't cold. "It doesn't matter. I'm resigning my commission. I'm telling you to leave it alone. Consider it the last order I give you."

His arm was still around me, and for some reason I felt no shock at his words. It had all been leading to this. The silence, his absence. He'd been staying away for a reason.

"Why?" I wasn't shocked, but that didn't mean I totally understood what would make him do all this.

"I failed. I failed all of you, and I failed myself into the bargain. Molly, the only reason you're alive is pure luck. Badrai had a clear shot at you; I left you unprotected, all because I was too preoccupied to do my job properly. I'm not fit to be an officer."

"That's not true." I could feel a tear slide down my cheek when I challenged him, pulling away from his arm so that I could get the message across. "Those lads, they'd die for you. They'd kill for you. They fucking adore you, we all do."

"Which is why they deserve the best CO there is!" He thumped the sand in frustration, making me jump at the sudden movement. I was already fragged, and sudden noises and movements weren't helping. I caught his arm before he could do it again.

"Don't! Don't say that." I kneeled beside him, trying to force my heart rate down. I used my other hand, the one that wasn't holding his arm in place, to force his chin up to look at me. The sight of the boss so completely floored threw my senses off balance. This was all wrong. He was meant to be the one in charge. Feeling brave all of a sudden, I used my fingers to stroke along the curve of his cheekbone, like he'd done to me in the hospital at Bastion. I did what I'd been desperate to do that night, and moved my mouth closer to his face, moving along his jawline with small kisses, barely even touching his skin as I did it. All I could smell was a faint mixture of soap and the smell of sea water.

He let out a noise that was so quiet, I could barely tell if it was him. His adam's apple rumbled with a moan when I carried on, his eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds when I didn't pull away. His arms were rigid in front of him, fists clenched as if he was terrified to move. The only other time I'd seen him look so scared was when that bloody thunder started in the ditch.

"Don't start this Molly." He looked straight at me when he said it. "Please don't start this here. I might not be able to stop you if you do." His eyes ran over me as I pulled away from him, still kneeling at his side on the towel. I stopped to look at him. He looked so young, not in charge anymore. My fingers ran across his jaw, trying to make him understand that I wanted this just as much as he did, if not more.

I remembered everything now. That feeling of pure adrenaline when I'd stared into Badrai's eyes. I remembered what flashed through my head; regrets at things I'd done, and in this case hadn't done. This was one of them. I'd stared death right in the eyes and felt nothing but regret that I'd held out, waited out. Hadn't let him know how I really felt, just hinted. I'm fond of you Sir. What the hell did I even say that for. I'm fond of my Nan an' all.

I moved forward and shifted one leg over his lap, so that I straddled where he sat on the towel. His eyes were darker somehow, as if he understood that I couldn't stop any more than he could. He was frowning, that little line appearing in the middle of his forehead just like it did whenever he was stressed or worried. My fingers smoothed it out carefully, then my lips dropped closer to his, until they were almost touching. I could feel his shallow breaths, even faster than when he'd first come out of the sea after his midnight swim. I put one hand on his bare chest as my lips stayed close to his. His heart was racing, just like mine. It felt like we were the only two people in the whole world, alone in our own space. The horrors we'd seen in the last six months washing away bit by bit with the waves.

I felt his hands trace along my thighs as they rested against his legs, his fingers making trails as he waited for me to make my move. I couldn't hold out any longer, and pressed my lips onto his. Finally. I was back where I'd been thinking about since the compound. Since well before that, actually. I felt the vibration in my mouth when he moaned again as I kissed him, like he couldn't help himself. I loved that he did that; that he could let go with me as much as that. I loved it almost as much as I did when he did that boyish grin, or drew out the word fuck with his posh boy voice. I loved him.

We stayed like that for a while, just kissing, exploring each other. I couldn't get enough of the feeling of his tongue inside my mouth. It was like being 13 and discovering kissing for the first time again, it all felt so new and exciting. He did things that made me shiver on top of him, like when he caught my lower lip between his teeth for a second and then sucked on it. I'm sure he felt me squeezing my legs together at the feeling that ran through my body when he did it. Then he brushed against my t-shirt with his fingers, touching my nipples through the material for just a few seconds.

My stomach felt like it was curling up into itself with the need for him, I was almost begging him to take me on the sodding beach. I wanted him so badly. My hands had moved from exploring his face, now one was running through his hair, feeling the still damp curls at the back of his neck. The other was working its way down his stomach, over the skin I'd been scared to even look at earlier. When I got to exactly the place I'd been trying to, feeling how much he wanted me, how hard he was for me, I nearly groaned into his mouth with excitement. In fact, I think I actually did.

He pulled away and looked up at me. Fucking hell, he was nearly knocking me sideways with the way he was looking at me, his eyes were so dark and his lips were swollen from the force we'd been kissing with. Why did he pull away? I tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt, wanting to pull the material away, desperate to feel his skin against mine. Both of our chests were jumping up and down, the sound of us trying to get our breath back was nearly drowning out the waves now.

"Molly." His voice sounded like a warning, and I knew. I knew why he'd pulled away. I'd pulled my t-shirt up as far as my bra, and he caught me with his hands, pulling it back down.

"We can't do this. Not here."

I wanted to scream with frustration, I nearly did. I nearly threw a temper tantrum there and then. Waiting out. Fucking stupid thing to do if you ask me. But when I looked at him, when I thought about what he'd said that night, I knew that this was more than just a fumble on the beach. If we did this, it'd be no different to a quickie round the back of the Indian. No different to what had gone before. I didn't want that. He didn't either.

"I don't want to wait out anymore." I whispered it when he pulled the back of my head towards him so that my forehead met his. "This is torture."

He held me there for a few seconds before he pulled away. All I could see in the darkness were his eyes. I could feel his hands on my cheeks, running against the skin there. He sighed and smiled just a bit before he spoke quietly, just for me.

"We're nearly there."