Disclaimer
Our Girl (and the characters, storylines and ideas related to them) belong to writers and any other relevant Copy Right owners. This story has not been written for any profit and no infringement is intended.
Author Note
This story was originally a one-shot exercise in exorcism of the Captain James from Season Three and everything that happened in Bangladesh. Because, well just because.
The Maya Angelou poem very much inspired this because I think it explains, particularly in the last two verses, how people can trap themselves in an emotional cage of their own making and fail to escape, even when the door of the cage has been left open. That's pretty much the situation that TG's left his characters in and here's the solution I'd rather like to see play out.
Song for this, if you want one, Silhouette – Aquilo. I was going to go with You There – Aquilo, but that seemed a bit tongue-in-cheek even for me.
Knower Of Roads, for a dose of fluff, will be updated this weekend, Mea Culpa, for a dose of angst, possibly next week but it depends on how much time I have.
Chapter One
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
.
.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
.
.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
.
.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
.
.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
.
.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
.
.
Caged Bird - Maya Angelou
Woodcock Hill Cemetery, wood land burials area, Rickmansworth, Herts, 21st September 2019
"Did you know, in his death letter to his parents he told them he wanted to be buried under a birch tree. Said it was because they were a symbol of new beginnings."
Her hand clenching around the corner of the picnic rug she was sitting on, Molly kept her eyes fixed on the thriving beech sapling in front of her instead of the slim camo clad legs in the periphery of her vision.
"He told me it was because it was the only tree he could think of when he booked his plot and that he hoped it might give his parent some comfort. He thought using his body to feed a tree was funny. Black humoured, git. Charles was horrified. I kind of got it, though."
"I never knew he'd even thought to pre-arrange a funeral. Wasn't like him at all."
"It wasn't. Charles badgered him into sorting it out, while he was sorting out ours. Elvis thought it was hilarious that he was planning our last resting place at our ages. He got it when Charles said it was kinder for who we left behind to make the arrangements, than making no plans at all.
"Charles choose Westcombe Hill in Somerset for us, and natural burial. Elvis copied to but choose here, close to Hoddesdon, for his parents. "It's not like I'll ever get the use of Westcombe Hill, now is it? So, I may as well enjoy this place. "Two days after the second anniversary of losing him…I thought it was a safe bet I'd be left alone. No bumping into anyone…unfortunate. Yet here you are. What do you want, Georgie?"
"I was looking for you. I phoned your flat mate, she said you'd be here."
Molly raised her eyes to look at her former friend, and her expression was less than friendly, unsurprisingly.
"There's no way you told her who you were, otherwise Jacs would have told you to fuck off and leave me alone, the way I want you to fuck off and leave me alone now."
Georgie tucked her trembling hands behind her back nervously. For the first time since she'd made the decision to track Molly down, Georgie was having doubts as she tried to hold eye contact under the weight of Molly's steady, excruciatingly accusing stare.
"Molly–"
"How'd you even get my phone number. I know Charles doesn't have it, I made sure."
"A friend who works in HR at Army HQ got it for me. I needed to talk to you."
Molly eyebrows rose impressively slowly, each movement a calculated expression of her growing disbelief that Georgie would have the audacity to show her face, never mind need something.
"You lost any right to need anything from me the night you walked into my husband's billet in barracks and shagged him while we were still married. I have nothin' that I want to say to you."
"Look, can I sit?"
There was a flash of something dangerously like fury in Molly large, green eyes, which disappeared as fast as it appeared as her expression settled into a calm mask. Her tone, when she next spoke, was cool and polite and eerily detached from strength the earlier emotion.
"No. I'm going, I can spend time with Elvis another time. I'll leave the picnic blanket. It actually belongs to Charles' mother. You know, my former mother-in-law. Emphasis on the former."
Georgie had to fight to keep her face calm while she inwardly cringed.
"I packed such random shit when I moved out. Was in a bit of a hurray. He can return it when he next sees her."
"I haven't seen Charles since the hospital after the river in Bangladesh. I thought you knew that?"
Molly's dark lashes fan down as she shut her eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. When they opened again, her expression was carefully neutral, eyes on fire again.
"I haven't seen him since he left for Bangladesh. In fact, our last conversation was a phone call when he discussed what furniture I should take as calm as you'd order a takeaway pizza. But then, he chose the tour to Bangladesh over a medical discharge and any hopes I had of saving our marriage, so I wasn't exactly surprised.
"Keep the blanket, or don't. You didn't manage to keep my husband, consider it a consolation prize. I don't ever want to see you again, Georgie. Ever."
Molly climbed to her feet, and brushed down her camo clad legs calmly, before turning her back on Georgie as she started to walk away.
When Georgie made to grab her arm to stop her, with a rushed call of, "Molly, please!"
Molly flung her hand off with some force, then stepped away, moving behind the small sapling she'd been sat besides, using the six-foot, thin branched tree as a sort of barrier.
"Molly, please what. Please forgive me? Please it was all a mistake? Please I didn't mean to put a bomb under your marriage and explode it? Please, what, Georgie. What the fuck else could you want to ask me for that you haven't already taken from me?"
Georgie looked Molly straight in the eyes and could see the building wall of remembered pain she was constructing for protection. She had to stop herself from retreating in the face of it, guilty accusation shouting loudly inside her own head, without any that Molly might legitimately decide to throw at her.
Georgie repeated to herself the conversation she'd had in the mirror that morning. That she'd have only one opportunity to talk, and this was it. That she owed Molly this conversation, even if she didn't want to hear it. That she deserved anything that Molly wanted to say, however much it stung. Finally, that she needed to man-up. Letting Molly leave would be the easy choice. Making her stay was the right one.
"It wasn't a mistake in the moment when I decided to go to his room. Wasn't a mistake the day after either."
When Molly physically flinched, Georgie automatically wanted to reach offer comfort. To reassure her that it was going to be okay. She didn't, of course, because she'd killed their friendship dead, and it was her words that were making her flinch in the first place, however much she needed to say them.
"It was a mistake when he woke up in the hospital with me by his bedside and not you, and cried because of it. That's when he woke up to what we'd done, and hated himself for it."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you need to know how he felt. That he had regrets."
"He had regrets, but not you." Molly said, voice not entirely steady.
"Yes." At this point, honest was all that Georgie had left to give Molly, so she gave it, brutally. "I won't lie, yes."
"How noble of you." Molly spat, hands clenched, body language dangerous. "He called out for me in the hospital after Belize."
"He cried out for in the jungle in Belize, too." Georgie replied softly, trying to show that she agreed with Molly's unspoken, painful point, that Charles had wanted his wife when it mattered, not her.
"Didn't stop him texting you from Headley months later, though did it." Molly replied, taking another step backwards, as though trying to distance herself from the subject.
It was Georgie's turn to close her eyes briefly, because the expression of naked pain on Molly's face was too much to bear.
"I got an email from Colonel Beck, asking why Charles hadn't responded to correspondence about a promotional panel he wanted him to attend. He'd been very distant, defensive…I got upset…suspicious and checked his phone."
Georgie opened her eyes again, taking in Molly's expression which was distant suddenly, the emotion stripped out.
"You never replied, I supposed I should thank you for that much. Helped me realise what he was doing, why he was avoiding the opportunity of promotion. He was trying to make sure he stayed with you, wasn't he?"
"I don't know anything about that. Honestly, Molly. When he was feverish in the jungle, we talked about Elvis. He said he blamed himself for his death, talked about us being bonded because of it. Said you were both struggling at home that his feelings had perhaps crossed a line…
"It opened the wounds all over again, like the loss was fresh. Afterwards, when he was Headley, I couldn't face talking to him, I was too busy holding myself together–"
"Selfish, both of you." Molly said, suddenly full of fire again. "We all lost Elvis. He was a like a big brother to me. An irritating, bugs the tits off you, pain in the bum of a big brother but one who you can't help loving with your whole bloody heart despite his piss taking ways. Then he was gone, and my husband and my best mate with him.
"I lost all of you, one at a time, but you both had to make the loss about you, like it was some sort of competition of who broke more because he died. Fuck sake, Elvis would have hated all of it."
"More people than you two lost Elvis. I lost him, his parents lost him, his daughter lost him, Sam lost him. Why is your pain so much more important than theirs? I'm not gonna stand here and let you use his loss as your justification for sleeping with my husband or tell me how it was his for sleeping with you. You both sent my whole life to shit and there is no justification for that I want to hear!"
They stared at each other, the minutes heavy with silence as Georgie struggled to get control of her breathing suddenly. Her efforts only seemed to annoy Molly more.
"I don't want your tears, Georgie, they mean shit to me so knock it off."
Georgie wiped her hand across her face and it came away wet.
"Anyway, you said you haven't seen him since the hospital, so what are you here to tell me? That your magic moment in Bangladesh, wasn't so magical after all? What do you want me to say: boo-hoo, poor Georgie?" Molly shook her head dismissively. "You know what, I don't even care. I've stayed and listened longer than I should have, I'm goin' now."
Molly turned her back on Georgie again and began to walk away.
"He changed platoons after, so never came back to Two Section. I'll be honest, at the time, I'd hoped he would. Been expecting it, even."
Molly stopped walking, the muscles in her back tight with strain.
"You hoped he would? So, you could get back to what you started in Bangladesh?" Molly asked, her back still turned to Georgie.
"Will it make you hate me any more if I say that yes, that was what I was thinking at the time."
Molly turned around again, eyes hard, green chips of determination compared to Georgie's that were still wet with more tears.
"I've given you too much emotional head-space already." Molly said dismissively, but there was a hitch in her breath before she spoke again that suggested she was more effected by the conversation than she wanted to let on. "You don't deserve anymore of me than I've already lost."
"For fuck sake, Molly. We both had PTSD and were both denying it. Why can't you see that and bend a little and listen to what I'm trying to say to you."
Molly's expression remained implacable and immutably closed. She had her emotional armour on tightly. Outwardly hard-as-nails, inwardly crumbling. Neither showed on her face.
Georgie rushed on, scared that Molly would leave and her last opportunity would be lost.
"I tried to get in contact with him after, he never responded. Did some digging, trying to find out where he was and found out that he'd requested a transfer. He chose to walk away. I didn't cope well with that. I had to speak to someone about it–"
"So, you spoke to Brains, dragged him into the drama."
"He told you?" Georgie asked, sounding appalled.
"How else did you think I knew about you two heating up the sheets in Bangladesh. I told you haven't spoken to Charles since that last call. Of course, Brains spoke to me, they were my Section before they were ever, yours. He was worried I didn't know. Didn't know what to do or think.
"He also took it mean it was your fault they lost their C.O. Charles never bothered to say goodbye to Two Section either. Another shit storm he left behind him."
"I lost them, too. They never looked at me the same after."
"What, did you think he'd not talk to them about it? You dumped that bomb on him and thought he'd not need to discuss it?" Molly said, like she was talking to a rather slow, naive child.
"I wasn't thinking about very much at all except I needed to speak to someone about it. Never considered it would blow up in my face with their censure."
"What, you thought they'd slap you on the back and celebrate you as one of the lads because you banged an Officer?"
"Don't be crass, Molly."
"Don't be stupid, Georgie, and don't under estimate how much what you did cost me. Those boys were at my wedding. Saw the happy start of what you helped break.
"Anyway, you're not being fair there. They'd have let it go eventually if you'd stuck around. He left them, too. But you did a Charles, and bolted, didn't you?"
"Yes, back to Preston. Regimental duties again. I hit rock bottom after that, couldn't have gone any lower if I tried."
Molly unexpectantly took a step closer, her voice lower, softer. "But you did hit lower. The pills. Your mum called me after. She didn't know how things were between us at that point."
"She never told me."
"She was desperate. I told her I thought you had PTSD and told her who to speak to at Regimental HQ to get you the help you needed."
"I never knew."
"Why would you need to? I was only doing my job."
"The way I failed to after he told me in the jungle that he couldn't function at home anymore and was struggling at work as well."
"I never reported it either, and knew about it longer. He refused to get help. Said he was worried it would affect his career. I think he was ashamed he was suffering the way he was, because that's not supposed to happen to a good officer, is it? In the end I couldn't expose his struggles to the world like that. Loved him too much. I needed it to be his decision.
"Didn't matter in the end, though did it? Just like with Rebecca, he picked the Army over me because I wasn't enough for him when it came to a choice."
"You're so wrong. He got help after Bangladesh. Went to Beck and told him everything. He's a Major now, working between Pirbright and Sandhurst training officers. Also took on a welfare role, working with service personnel with PTSD."
"If you haven't spoken to him since, how do you know all this?"
"Spanner from Elvis's old team and Blue the new Section Commander. They're still in contact. I asked after him."
"And you?"
"You mean after the pills? Counselling, regimental duties, more counselling, then a bit more. I'm getting my head straight slowly.
"He's doing even better, has been cleared for active duties, but he's decided to stay with his training role."
Georgie was confused to see the flash of pain cross Molly's face. This was good news she was giving her surely, so why… Then Molly's expression went blank completely, even more closed off than before.
"Well, I'm glad you're both doing so well after you blew my life to bits. Not sure why you felt the need to track me down and let me know about it, though."
"That's not fair-"
"Isn't it?"
Georgie indicated the Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corps badge on Molly's beret. "Seems you're moving on and up as well."
"A year of dealing with being without a husband who'd promised that I was the last thing he wanted to see, who then goes and shags his best-friend's fiancé, tends to mean you have to keep busy to keep your shit together. My C.O had been bugging me to aim higher, and it turns out I'm not quite as thick as I thought I was. I'm based up at BCU in Birmingham, for future reference, should you decide to stalk me again. If you could manage to stay away, I'd be grateful."
Molly turned her back again, more than ready to leave this time.
"I'm happy for you!" Georgie called out, being deliberately goady this time both in tone and choice of words. It worked, Molly swung around again and stormed back towards where Georgie was standing.
"I don't want or need your praise!" she snapped.
"Okay, but can I ask you one thing?"
"I doubt it would stop you even if I said no."
"Are you happy? Over him?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care!"
"I think you're doing what you do best–surviving."
"How would you know anything about me?"
"We were friends once."
"Yeah, once. Try to remember that next time you think you're an expert on me anymore."
"He's the same. Surviving, just like you."
"And I still don't care!"
"Then why haven't you sent divorce papers?"
"How the hell would you know that?"
"Spanner. They're very close these days. The connection he I had after Elvis was something we both needed, but wasn't healthy. I see that now. But he still needed one. Well, they both did. As you said, more people than us lost Elvis.
"He told Spanner that he dreading the day you send him divorce papers because that will mean it finally over between you."
"It would seem he's picked a bloke with a bloody big mouth as a new bestie."
"Spanner only wants him to be happy, and he always was a bit chatty after a few too many malt whiskies. I might have exploited that for good reasons."
"He's been with nobody else since Bangladesh, Molly."
"The one he had during Bangladesh was one to many." Molly replied sarcastically.
"Come on, Molly. You're stronger than that. You're letting your insecurities talk for you now."
"Fuck you, Georgie." Molly muttered, turning away again.
"You told him your relationship needed put out of its misery. You, Molly."
"I also told him to leave me or get help, before Belize, and still stayed afterwards and tried to fight for my marriage despite the threat. I stopped fighting when I found the texts he kept sending you and about the promotions board.
"He left me first, emotionally and then physically each and every time he chose running off on tour to avoid the problems at home.
"I had a living breathing husband and it felt like he'd died. Even when he was right in front of me, I was grieving for a living man. No matter what I did, he shut me out and kept me shut out. Don't you dare try to say this was my fault."
"It wasn't his fault, or yours. We were both unwell after Elvis died."
"Maybe, maybe not. You both still made choices that hurt people around you. That takes makin' a decision. PTSD didn't take away your free will."
"It does distort the reality around those decisions, though. I know you have extra training in this. I know how hard you tried to help him before it all went to shit."
"I told you before, more than just you and him lost Elvis. WE all lost him, and none of the rest of us looked outside of our marriages to shag our way back to happiness."
"I know, and I'm not trying to excuse it."
"Aren't you?"
"I can't excuse it, or say sorry enough times to fix it. We both got so bloody lost. I look back on everything that happened now and don't recognise myself anymore.
"Elvis would have been so angry with us if he could have seen it all. That's maybe the worst part. He loved you so much, Molly. Charles, too. You were a second family to him."
"None of it matters now. You can't go back." Molly said, her voice heavy with a ringing sort of finality.
"I know."
Molly seemed to paused for a moment, as though contemplating her text words, then asked carefully, "What about you, now?"
Georgie looked startled for a second, then smiled tentatively. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Asking about me. It's not how I saw this conversation going."
"How did you see it?"
"I thought I might need a visit to the dentist, after your hand met my face and punched my lights out…"
"Not saying I never thought about it at times. But it's not who I am anymore. I said before, you don't deserve anymore headspace than I've already given you."
"Okay, I understand. To answer your early question. I'm leaving the Army. Tomorrow is my last day in uniform. Got myself a contract with Médecins Sans Frontières in Kenya for a year. After that – who knows?"
"I wish you well, Georgie. Don't want to ever see you again, but holding onto this negativity ain't good for me, so I do genuinely wish you well as much as I'm able to and I'm leavin' now."
George put her hand into her combat trouser pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
"You asked me why I came looking for you. This is why." She held the paper out to Molly. "This is for you. It's his address in Guildford. He's been living there since you sold your house in Bath and got posted to Aldershot."
"I don't want it."
"It isn't over for him – what you both had."
Georgie extended the paper towards Molly again, but she didn't reach for it.
"Please, Molly, take it! You don't need to do anything with it. Could even burn it, or make some other grand gesture out of destroying it to show you really have the closure you're working so hard to convince me you have."
"You're a bitch."
"Maybe, but like I said, I got my head into such a mess after Elvis, that I'm not really sure I know who or what I really am anymore."
"And you think I should care?"
"It doesn't really matter if you care or not. It does matter that you're trying to change the subject." Georgie stretched out towards Molly with the piece of paper again.
"You can avoid this, or you could take it and try to move forward in different way. One of you has to make the first move. It won't be him, he's too scared he'll hurt you again by pushing his way back in to your life uninvited."
"Spanner again?"
"Yes, well, he's quite the Chatty-Cathy when he wants something to happen as much as this. I'm pretty sure he let me get him drunk because it suited his agenda."
"Did you contact him, or did he contact you?" Molly asked, her arms crossed over her chest defensively, but her eyes showing a hint of vulnerability.
"Spanner contacted me, but I recognised it as the opportunity to make this conversation happen. Look, I know it's never going to be enough. I know I torpedoed your life and I know nothing I do will fix my part in that, but I wanted you to know it is fixable if you're brave enough to make the first move.
"Please, Molly, please take the paper." Georgie took a step closer, reached down and placed it into Molly's hand. When her fingers slowly closed around it, crumbling it into a ball Georgie was worried she was going to throw it back at her for a moment.
They stood and stared at each other for a heavy moment, brown eyes on green. Molly took a step back, but to the relief of Georgie's thumping heart, kept her fingers closed around the paper with Charles' home address. She'd succeeded, but Georgie recognised this moment for what it was. Their final goodbye.
"I've got to get back. Got the drive to do, and I'm on shift at eight." Molly took another step backwards.
Georgie nodded with a careful smile. She'd said what she'd come to say. There was nothing else to do now but awkward goodbyes. She bent down to scoop up the blanket.
"No, it' okay. You use it. The grass is wet and it's a bit shit to sit on if you you're going to stay with him." Molly indicated the ground with her hand and a sad smile. "He'd get grumpy with me if I let you get a wet behind."
"Thank you, Molly and I am so–"
Molly stopped her with a rise of her hand. "Bye, Georgie."
Then turned and walked back down the grass path towards the carpark.
Georgie knelt down on the blanket and contemplate the small tree in front of her with damp eyes.
"I bet you're up in heaven, or wherever we go afterwards, pissing yourself laughing at me sitting here stressing out about what to say to a straggly little tree. Did you think about that when you picked this option for your funeral? For fucks sake, Elvis. I really believe you were taking the piss even then."
She stroked the tree trunk gently, needing to touch something to ground herself.
"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you since the funeral. I've been a bit busy missing you, falling apart and royally fucking up my life. I know you'd be bloody furious with me about that, but I was bloody furious with you about leaving me for a while. So, I guess fairs fair."
Two fat tears trailed down her cheeks, and she wiped them away impatiently with the back of her hand. More tears followed.
"I'm here now, and I wanted to tell you I'm doing better. Not exactly good, but better.
"I've made such a mess of things, Elvis, got lost in a very dark place. Helped Charles fuck up his marriage, lost Molly's friendship, obviously. Lost the trust and respect of my section. Lost myself.
"It took me most of this year to understand what was going on in my own head, then the rest of the year to find the courage to track down Molly and speak to her again.
"I didn't for one-minute think it would happen here, with you. Imagined it in some Mess hall or at her flat, if she'd even have let me through the door in the first place.
"But I'm glad it was here with you." The tears were coming faster now and rapid heading towards audible sobs. "I should have come sooner, sorry about that, too, but I miss you so fucking much, and the thought of returning here just made the fact that you're really gone…too real, I guess.
"Maybe you're annoyed with me, or maybe not. Or maybe I'm losing my last marble yammering away to a stupid tree, that has nothing whatsoever to do with what your life meant, beyond you liking to take the piss out of it.
"But you always had the bigger, most forgiving heart out of the two of us, so I think if you can see me, you won't stay mad for long. So, if it's okay I'm just going to lie here a while with you. Okay? Then I need to head home and pack for Kenya.
"I know. I can hear you already: For fucks sake, George, why Kenya after last time…"
ooOOoo
Molly waited behind the cover of the more mature trees that divided the forest burial area, from the more traditional rows of standing stones, holding formal words and loving messages. She waited for longer then she meant to initially, and perhaps longer than she should as she watched Georgie chat to, cry with and then finally fall asleep underneath the straggly little tree who's only response was to move gently in the breeze and be there as a focus for her words.
Time ran slowly passed, until there was not enough left for her to be able stay without risking being late for duty. So, she left, but the balled-up piece of paper that Georgie had worked so hard to get her to accept was still in her hands when she drove away.
