Everything Starts Somewhere

Chapter 1

Molly woke suddenly but refused to open her eyes. The nightmare of the past few hours flooding into her memory. She groaned. Another Molly Dawes fuck up she thought. How did she do it? Here she was lying in Charles' bed, but all alone.

She had arrived on Charles' parent's doorstep eight hours or so ago and greeted him with a cheeky "missed me?" He smiled, she giggled, he hadn't been expecting her, and she had wanted to surprise him. Looking back she realised that she did that alright! Just not in the way she thought she would.

They hadn't seen each other in over three months. Since Smurf's funeral to be exact. Over the past three months they had been writing to one another and occasionally texting. It was sporadic; she was in Afghan training medics while he was in Hedley Court undergoing his intensive rehab. Before she left they had had one wonderful date and night together. Promises of more to come, but then Smurf died and everything got turned on its head.

Their guilt and grief stopped them from seeing each other again until the day of the funeral, and by then her decision had already been made. She needed to run away from normal life. Get things sorted again in her nut. Charles had said he understood, supported her, and so she went on a short tour. It was undoubtedly the right thing to do for her, but it meant that for them, as a couple things were still very much up in the air.

When she tentively suggested that she visit him on her return he seemed more than happy with the idea. The letters he sent her were always sweet and just a little more than friendly, believing that they had something, she decided to surprise him. Turn up a day early.
When he opened the door he seemed happy to see her. Directed her into to the house with a nod of his head and a smirk she took for happiness. Three months of this moment playing around in her head were always of a passionate clinch, of them madly drawn together unable to restrain their passions for each other.

The reality however was very different. He leaned over and chastely kissed her on the cheek. Telling her how he had missed her and it was good to see her. Then he spun her round and almost marched her into the kitchen. As soon as she entered, though confused by his almost brotherly welcome, she realised that it was probably due to the fact she had altered their plans and both his parents were home!
She was introduced to Mary and George. Spent several pleasant but very frustrating hours chatting to them. They were friendly and eternally grateful to Molly for saving their son's life. It was gratifying to hear, but all Molly wanted was to have Charles to herself. For them to work out what they were to one another.

Fate intervened however, and not in a good way.

Her first symptoms were tiredness, then louder than usual tummy rumbles. She put it down to the vast quantities of tea she was drinking and the biscuits. But then she started to feel nauseous, and then the nasty stuff began.

Embarrassing to say the least. Mind numbingly mortifying would be better way of describing it. Here she was less than twelve hours back in the UK and she was suffering the worst gastroenteritis she had ever had... in her potential new boyfriend's family home... in front of both him and his parents.

Eventually, when she stopped being sick and doing the other stuff that inevitably comes along, she made it to the guest bedroom. She was told by his mother, as she was shepherded in, it was the closet one to the bathroom. A sick bucket was provide, painkillers for her fever, and water. Then she was left alone in the darkened room to recover or to quickly sprint to the toilet again, whatever came first!

Charles thankfully didn't follow her up into the bedroom but stayed downstairs cleaning up after the apocalyptic mess she had made. She could only imagine just how pissed off he must be with her right now, how they all must be.

So as she lay there she was fairly certain things couldn't get any more embarrassing and that any chance of a relationship with Charles was now dead in the water. It just not what nice young ladies did…..vomit all over the family kitchen floor, rug, hallway, cloakroom…..

She had drifted off asleep again and was woken by the gentle tapping on her door.

"Molly. You awake?" Charles asked. He pushed open the door with his foot. He carried a tray of drinks and some dry toast.

"Thought you might need a fresh drink." He said as he set the tray down and quickly went to open the bedroom window. The smell of illness hung in the air.

"Thanks. "She bashfully said. She appreciated the fresh air too.

"God Dawes. You look awful." He sneered at her; she looked like death warmed up. He watched her closely, unsure if she wanted him there.

"Thanks." She replied embarrassed. Sitting in her ex CO's spare room, stinking of sick, wearing knickers and one of his t shirts, there was nothing more she could say really.

"I'm sorry Sir." She offered in a last ditch attempt, feeling so uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Sir?" He frowned, and stared at her. "What happened to Charles?" He didn't want to be her CO, he wanted her to call him Charles, the way she had that wonderful night they spent together.

"Don't know? Didn't seem sort of right anymore." She said. While she had been away she longed to call him by his name, now she was here, after what she had done, she didn't believe that he would have wanted her to.

"Oh! I see…well…erm…OK." He looked disappointed, and she couldn't understand why. He stood at the edge of the bed awkwardly; she knew he wanted to be anywhere but in this situation. "Best you have some water and a few bites full of toast then. See how that does you." Firm and direct, no gentleness in his tone.

"Thanks." She picked at the pattern in the duvet cover. Feeling so awkward. "I'll get out if your hair as soon as I can."

"Don't think that will be for a while." He joked, rolling his tongue around his mouth.

"God please say sorry to your parents. I'm so embarrassed."

"It's fine. They're fine. Kitchen, cloakroom, rug all clean and back to normal. Like you were never there." She almost detected softness in his tone that time.

"Oh God." The memory of it all was too awful. "What time is it?" Thinking of nothing better to say to him, conversation used to flow so easily between them. This man, Charles, she thought would be her everything, and now she could hardly look him in the eyes.

"About 11. I'm off to bed soon. Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No. Thank you." She watched him stand and hesitate at her door. It was expected but she was still sad he wasn't thinking about asking share her bed. He looked as though he was about to say something, like he'd wanted to stay, but merely left saying;

"Night Dawes." And softly closed her door.

She never managed the toast. Her night was spent between lonely trips to the bathroom, of which there were many, and periods of exhausted sleep. When morning came she contemplated leaving his house and getting off to her parents, but time and distance from a toilet was still nothing that she could achieve. Her symptoms were still just as violent as the night before. She knew she was here for a while longer. The thought filled her with dread.

It was closer to lunchtime when she saw Charles again. His mother had popped in several times during the morning since she woke, but she had seen nothing of Charles. She was bitterly disappointed that he hadn't come to see her sooner. She had expected at least a show of friendship from him.

"Can I come in?" He timidly asked, poking his head around the door.

"Of course. I must look a sight." She challenged him. He didn't reply.

"I've err." He stumbled over his words. Not the usual Captain James she knew. "Contacted the Med Centre. With your symptoms and that. Seems there are quite a few of you that came back from tour with the same symptoms. They need to do some tests to find out what's going on."

She listened to his words. So he hadn't come out of concern to see her, more out of duty.

"Test? What do you mean? I can't get to barracks just yet."

"No. No." He assured her. "The local hospital will do the tests for the Army. All you need to do is...errrr...you know... provide a sample."

"A sample?" She asked innocently. "Of what?"

Seeing him turn red she knew the answer. "Oh shit." She said. "They need a sample of my sh...?"

"Yeah. 'Fraid so. Here's a pot." He placed the plastic pot on the cabinet. Not knowing where to look.

"How will I get it there?" She feared the answer.

"Ah well I said I could. You know drop it off." He stood with his arms folded across his chest. His default defensive position in a situation that made him uncomfortable. His eyes stayed firmly fixed on the carpet below him.

"Oh bleeding hell." She rolled over and hid her face in the pillows. "You're gonna have take my, you know what to the hospital for me?"

"Indeed Dawes. It's how we'll find out what's wrong with you lot." His answer in his Captain's voice made her realise that he was merely looking out for a soldier, not anyone who he thought of as a girlfriend.

"Ok. Thank you Sir." She therefore formally replied. Watching his face wince as she said the 'Sir' word again, but if he was doing this by rank then so would she.

"Ok. I'll leave as soon as I ... well as soon as you can... you know." Nodding his head at the pot, turning instantly. And then he was gone leaving her lone with her embarrassment…...and the bleeding pot.

Several hours later he returned. Informing her he'd delivered her 'package' to the labs, and it would be tomorrow they would have the result. In the meantime he told her the Army had asked for her not to leave, so in Charles' words, she was stuck with them for the foreseeable. She could hear the regret in his voice. She could almost hear what he must have been thinking…..a one night stand that was now lingering. Before she left for her tour he made no promises, they had hardly got stared on a relationship, she had only presumed. So she couldn't really get too upset, yet she was. She never thought that Charles would be one of those guys who'd treat her badly. Yet that's what he seemed to be doing.

So she spent another lonely night, and it was the next day Charles returned with news that she has something attractively known as parasitic dysentery, as well as most of her section. Her symptoms would eventually go, and the treatment was a month's course of antibiotics. However due to cross contamination she needed to remain put in their spare room for the next five days.

"So as long as you start the antibiotics now, you'll start to get better." Charles said handing over the hospital booklet for her to read, and the large jar of antibiotics.

"Thank you." She seemed to say that a lot recently. "Sound bloody awful. What about you, your parents? I don't wasn't to pass it on?"

"No we'll be fine, once the antibiotic starts working and things start staying in your body. There's no risk." He smirked at her. "Now." He said. "I'll fix you some lunch and you can start on the meds straight away."

He was true to his word, and even joined her. He seemed somehow happier and more relaxed around her. She sat on the edge of the bed, while he in the armchair, both eating off trays. He didn't stay long, saying he expected she needed a sleep, but he promised he'd be back with her evening meal. When he left Molly felt a little happier too. Her stomach and guts weren't churning as badly as they had been, and their conversations were a little bit less stiff than they had been.

And this was how it continued for the next four days. Charles visiting her room numerous times each day, each time with more and more food, delicious cakes and cookies, as her appetite improved. Her symptoms abated, and she started to look, smell and dress like Molly again. She still was confined to her spare room though, but each time Charles visited he stayed longer, and longer; their conversation as before became teasing, happy and very friendly. Molly felt hopeful. The Charles she fell in love with on tour seemed to be back.

On the fourth day however after her evening meal Molly, knew her time was up as a guest in the James' residence.

"I guess I can go home tomorrow?"

"There's no hurry, maybe a few more days?" He suggested as he cleared away her tray. Hopeful she would say yes. He had loved each and every visit he had paid to her. Seeing her so unwell terrified him, and was relieved to see her getting stronger hour by hour.

"No. I think I've been here long enough. Your parents have been fab, taking in a stranger and feeding me for a week. Best get back. Though I'll miss your mother's cakes"

He raised his eyes at her. Knowing he couldn't ask her to stay. She needed to get on living her life. "Where will you go? Back to your parents?"

"Nah." She knew that was where she didn't want to be. If she was honest she didn't want to leave his home at all. "Won't get much of a rest there. Back to barracks. Start my new job in a few weeks. Need to get sorted. Back to normal you know?"

He looked at her oddly. He felt her words were strangely poignant. "Back to normal? Yes I guess you're right. Things have been a bit surreal for a while haven't they?"

It hurt to hear him say this. When they were together things had been perfect, but not surreal, not to her. She still wanted him, even in her weakened state. "Yeah. I guess they have." She said. "I can't thank you enough Bossman."

He was stood by the door and stopped suddenly on hearing her words.

"Don't call me that Molly. Please." She saw the hurt in his eyes, and was confused. He continued. "That's not who I am, well I didn't think I was to you anymore. I thought…"

She hadn't a clue what he meant by that, so by way of an apology she said. "You're not, well you are…..well…..what I meant is…thank you Charles." Her reply didn't clear the situation up at all.

He turned away, struggling with the door handle and the trays. The plates and cutlery banged loudly in their attempt to escape, and she almost missed him whispering under his breath; "I'll miss you Molly."

Then he was gone.

Sleep avoided her. She told herself she must have imagined what he said, but there again she knew he had said it. Maybe she thought after all those months on tour, then his injuries, and everything else that went on he had just come to depend on her friendship. That was what he was alluding to. He certainly hadn't shown any further signs of wanting to be anything more to her.

Huffing at her inability to sleep she started on her packing. Hoping to leave early tomorrow with little fuss. As she packed she realised some of her clothes were still in the laundry room downstairs. She quietly crept down to retrieve them.

"Jeeze. You nearly gave me a Julius Caesar." She very loudly whispered.

As she had entered the kitchen she caught the outline of Charles' figure sitting at the breakfast bar in the semi darken kitchen, nursing a hot drink.

"Sorry." He offered. "Couldn't sleep?"

She was painfully aware she was only wearing her West Ham top and a pair of sleep shorts, dull boring and very old. She wondered why he looked at her oddly; he'd seen her in them before. Then a blush came sweeping over her as she remember the last time she was in this house, before she went on tour, before Smurf died, before they had stopped being something to one another…he had told her how she used to drive him crazy in those shorts and top on tour. How he used to watch her breasts strain against the fabric and jostle when she walked, how the shorts were always just not short enough to be indecent, but short enough for his imagination to frequently consider her finer points in them.

Charles pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Fancy a cuppa?" He asked.

"Please, and some cake if there's any going!" She cheekily asked. "What?" She giggled when she saw his smirk and eyebrows shoot up. It was good to see her appetite returning.

As he made her drink she watched him. Wearing jogging pants and a loose t-shirt, his leg still caused him to limp, but all wounds had healed. His stomach wound when she last saw him naked was angry and puckered, a dreadful shame that it marked such a beautiful body. The scares to his leg were hidden almost by the abundant dark hairs that grew on them, but still it was his leg that was causing him the most problems.

"So. What now?" She asked. They had avoided in all their letters, in all their friendly chats since she came home, that one subject that they should have been talking about. Not their future, but his. What was he going to do? He didn't answer immediately and she wondered if she had asked the right question at the wrong time. Eventually though he finished making her a drink and sat back down at the breakfast bar opposite her, their legs almost toughing over the edge of the stools. His eyes swept up to her face, his curls a messy beautiful mop on his head, but it was his face set with sadness that affected Molly the most.

"I have a medical next week…to see if I'm fit. I guess I don't want to make any decisions until I know I have choices. I know I fucked up out there, but I guess I'm realising that maybe it wasn't all down to me. Maybe if I can, if I do get the chance to stay in…..maybe I will."

His guilt, his grief over everything that had happen, had been talked about before. She had nothing more to say. She knew his pain. Gently she reached her hand across the breakfast bar and held his. He grabbed it like a man holding on for his life. Squeezing hard. He raised his eyes to hers and they shared a look that showed they both knew, both slowly realising that what had happened had not been their faults. His eyes glassed over, and he swallowed loudly, quickly turning his head away, his hand immediately following and leaving Molly's, playing with some imaginary fluff to save his pride.

The loss of his hand hurt Molly. She was offering him friendship, comfort and he abruptly removed her gift to him, closed himself off from her.

"What about you?" Clearing his throat, trying to get back on an even keel. "You looking forward to joining your new team?"

"Yeah. Pirbright. Bit nervous though. You know what I'm like on first impressions." And that was it; they were back to being friendly again. She felt lost and humiliated. He was the one who told her to go and sort her world out. She did, and had stupidly hoped he'd be there for her when she came home. But this past week had shown her something that she had known all along. Charles was a nice guy, but them as a couple in the real world was something he didn't want. She'd allowed him that one glorious night and day to get it out of his system, and he had. She could see now it was time for her, although heartbroken, to move on.

"You'll be fine. You eventually won me over." He rested his elbows on the surface and supported his face looking at Molly. The type of look that made her realise that she loved this man and the way he stared at her. No matter how hard it hurt she still loved that he looked at her like that. She dropped her eyes, breaking his gaze feeling as though this time though it was too intense and made her feel at that moment uncomfortable.

She stood. "I'll be heading off early tomorrow. I'll say bye to your parents then I'll be out of your hair."

"I could drive you back or at least to the station." He offered standing too close beside her. He could smell her shampoo, and body cream. She still had dark rings under her eyes from the trauma her body had been through in the past week. He didn't want to let her go, she still seemed too fragile. Beside he had no idea once she had left his home how or when he would she her again. This week had shown they were friends, bonded for now, but time and postings would interfere with that bond and eventually wear it away. It hurt him. He loved her, he had told her that once before. She never said it back, never wrote it in her letters. It seems the feelings she had for him, infatuation, hero worshiping, whatever they were…..had been… now seemed to have gone.

"God no! That's kind Charles, but I've been enough trouble for you. I'll find my own way home."

"It wasn't any trouble Molly."

She laughed at him. "No course it wasn't mate. Not exactly what you had planned though I bet when we said I should come over."

"No. I might make you right there, but I still don't mind." He moved slightly closer to her. He knew the hours were ticking by, and he probably would never be this close, this intimate with her again. He wanted to take it all in.

"Well I bloody did! I thought….well….when I came here…..I thought…after….you know before and that. Any way it doesn't matter. Duty done. You done your job as CO outstandingly. Thank you Sir."

She turned to go. He saw red, grabbed her arm and spun her around to him. He had spent the last three months worrying about her. Wishing the days away until her return, and when she did come home she'd been violently unwell. It hurt him to see her suffering. Frustrated him that they could not move forwards. Did she not understand how much she meant to him?

"Christ Molly I didn't look after you out of bloody duty. I did it cause I fucking love you." He almost shouted it at her. His Captain voice echoing in the night time kitchen. He was pleased the door was closed and his parents were heavy sleepers.

"You do? I thought….." She couldn't continue, blinking back the sudden tears that were welling in her eyes. She hadn't expected this she had convinced herself there was no 'them' anymore. If he did why was he so cold towards her, always distant? Never initiating touch or intimate banter. Just controlled polite conversations at all times. Not the actions of a man who was supposedly in love with her.

"God yes Molly….. I'm sorry!"

"What you sorry for?" She asked walking close to him, really close to him. Close enough to feel the energy pulsing around his body.

"I'm sorry cause I know it's too much for you. After Smurf and that… Sam…..I understand…I guess after tomorrow though you ...we don't have to see one another…."

"I don't want that you pranett." She pushed her chest into his, ever the gentleman he stepped back thinking it was accidental, but then caught the look in her eyes. Fire sparking across them. It made him bold; he held his ground relishing the quivering of her breast through his clothes.

"What do you want then Molly?" He asked leaning in and dipping his voice so she had to strain her neck to hear his words. She felt his fingers gently brush her back, resting on her waist with almost the slightest of touch or pressure.

"I want you."

"Why?" He was toying with her now, knowing her answer but needing her to say it.

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and hung her arms possessively, desperately, around his neck, moving to claim him and his lips as hers.

"Cause I love you Charles."