Here is another one shot- of that lovely lovely couple. Thank you to all of you who reviewed 'Mornings like this' - really appreciate all your lovely words. I promise I will finish half way there soon!

The Paddling pool

Her legs are burning, lactic acid working its way through every individual cell to release a symphony of pain as she cycles. The wheels turn quickly though she's not moving anywhere, a faint ticking noise just reaching her ears over her ragged breath. There's not much holding the exercise bike together anymore, other than crumbling packing tape and hope. Its not a surprise that it was left behind by the last group stationed here; though 2 section have made it their own as they do everything. 'Smurf was here' is scribbled all across the padded handlebars, right next to some rather crass anatomical diagrams of male body parts. She inhales- oxygen breaking into her ragged lungs and the pain feels good- a welcome distraction to her chaotic thoughts of late. She ramps up the gradient- forcing her body faster and harder, keeping in time with the beat of her music as she gives it everything in one final push.

Her eyes flick upwards and she can see James staring. Brown eyes boring into hers as he leans against the Comms tent, head angled in conversation with Kinders though his eyes are trained on her. She quickly takes in the sculpted angles of his uniform and the hard line of his face before she can stop herself. It's an unwavering stare which does hot and heady things to her body- forcing her to come to the bitter realisation that she's fallen for him hard. He doesn't realise it, but it actually helps when he watches her- that desperate need to prove herself overriding all physical pain, pushing her faster and further in her fitness than she would normally go. She is a state- sweat is dripping down her tensed shoulder blades and creased forehead. Though she thanks her lucky stars that she waited to exercise when there was a brief smattering of clouds in the sky- though the temperature is still overwhelming, clamming up her lungs and choking her throat. She looks away as the song reaches its fever pitch, bass line thudding heavy in her mind. She accelerates her speed- body low, almost folded over her muscled legs, passing the pain threshold long ago, all that is left to do is finish off this session and then she can go have a shower. Gripping the handlebars tightly she rises from her seat, determined to finish at a sprint.

Someone flicks her on the shoulder and she flinches, nearly jolting herself onto the sand below her feet. Her music is so loud that it's numbed her senses- spatial awareness as good now as it is when she's drunk. Her eyes snap open to reveal Smurf- arms crossed mouth curving into that infuriating smile of his.

'What the hell' she snaps, though it might have been anything- it's impossible to hear her own words over the heavy beat of the drums. She glares angrily at him because really he should know better by know than to disturb her midway through a work out- it takes her motivation enough to get on the bloody bike, let alone stay on it. He gestures to her headphones, miming pulling them out of his ears and she scowls at him- ice cold before she does as he asks, dropping back into a sitting position as her legs continue to turn, one hand reaching up to pull out one of her ear buds.

'What?' she snaps, breaths coming short and fast as she watches him- Legs still moving unceasingly to keep up the pace.

'Nice to see you too Dawsey' grins Smurf, leaning across to rest his infuriating arms on her handle bars.

'I'm in the middle of a work out' she manages to splutter.

He nods in agreement. 'I can see that'

'Never had you down as the observant type' she scoffs and it takes near enough all her energy to stammer out that short sentence, lungs roaring in protest as she shifts her attention away from breathing.

'Good one' he grins- welsh lilt obvious even above the concluding bars of her music. 'Though I didn't come here to hobnob, as much as I'm sure you've missed me'

'I saw you an hour ago'

'I can't help it that your clingy type' he shrugs and she fights a smile because although he's infuriating as her younger siblings, possibly more than, He still has the ability to make her laugh in this hell zone- no matter the mood she's in.

'So Moll' he starts

'Dawse' she corrects.

'Moll' he says again, leaning up to knock the other headphone out of her ear just because he can. 'Get your sodding arse off the bike' She notices then that he's dressed ready for PT, one hand clutching a water bottle- condensation dripping down the clear plastic. 'You've been hogging it for the past hour'

She shakes her head in refusal, grip tightening on the padded handlebars, 'Go use the weights station' she says, eyes flicking across the surprisingly crowded make shift gym. 'Or go for a run' she suggests.

'I want the bike' he whines, sing song voice that his mum must be familiar with by now. 'It's the only bloody reason I put myself through PT'

'Not my problem' is her reply and it really isn't. He doesn't need to know that she's nearly finished.

'Oh come on' he tries again, 'You stink. Don't you want a shower?' Though his words are derogatory she notices the way his eyes flick down her long legs, resting on the bare skin underneath her shorts as exercising in her combats is just too damn hot. She shifts awkwardly on the seat, refusing to acknowledge the look of interest in his eyes. She's not ready to build the boundaries between them just yet.

'Fuck off' is her reply.

'Please, pretty please just for me?' he whines again.

'Nope' she snaps back, reaching to pop one of the earbuds back in, as far as she's concerned this conversation is over. 'I'll enjoy watching you drag your sorry arse around the compound though'

There's a silence and she flicks her eyes away from him to sneak another glance at James. Kinders is no longer with him, his full gaze is fixed on both of them- eyes sending a shudder through her at the intensity of it. He raises an eyebrow and those hot waves of panic slap over her- he's judging her interaction with Smurf, questioning their closeness without forming any words.

'You leave me no choice' Smurf murmurs and she looks back to him. His hands are reaching out to grab her arms- skin slipping across her own and his eyes flash wickedly at her- as they always do when he's about to be a class prat.

'Get off' she begins to protest, attempting to untangle herself but his hold is too strong.

'Lads' he yells, glancing around at the rest of 2 sections scattered across the compound. She notices Captain James look up at Smurfs words, eyes narrowed in interest at what he could possibly have to say. 'I think Dawsey been cycling for so long now she's stuck on the bike' She opens her mouth to protest but he beats her too it, as he always does. 'Can someone give me a hand to get her off?'

Theirs a collective laugh and she doesn't have time to protest because their suddenly charging towards her, always eager for an opportunity to prat around. Before she can clamber off the bike she's surrounded- strong arms reaching up to grab her off the bicycle- looping round her hot skin to pull her hands away from the nearly broken handlebars.

'Oi' she shouts, words lost beneath their raucous laughter, 'Oi you bastards put me down' but they keep moving- towing her away into the centre of the compound with relative ease. Hands are holding her legs, looping across her shoulders and lifting her arms- no matter how she convulses they hang onto her, laughing at her attempts to get free. She notices her headphones wrapped around her right leg and she scrabbles breathlessly to grab her I-pod which is trailing along in mid- air- chucking it onto the floor as they move to prevent any of the clumsy sods from breaking it. The majority of them aren't wearing T-shirts and she crinkles her nose as the scent of hot male washes over her. Fingers notices.

'You don't smell too pretty yourself Dawse' He winks at her, eyes sliding like smurf's down her tanned legs 'Though you look-'

'Finish that sentence and I'll castrate you' she snaps.

'Ooh' Mansfield winces as if she's just physically slapped Fingers, 'That's you told'

'I think what you need is a good bath Dawse' Fingers counters, evil smirk creeping across his face, hands digging into her shoulder as he holds her up 'You need to wash out that mouth of yours just as much as your manky body'

'Oh shut up, I'll-'

'Let's chuck her in Captain James' paddling pool' someone interrupts and laughter is the only thing she can suddenly hear, their minds desperately set on this brilliant, if not frankly stupid idea. She knows exactly where it is- memorised its positioning the minute it was filled with water. Unfortunately for her he hasn't used it recently; clearly he doesn't trust the water since 2 section ran in.

'Hell yeah' she hears Smurf laugh and they all break into double time, her head joggling between them as they cover the rough ground.

'Oi you cockwombles' she yells, though this time her words are masked by her own laughter as this situation is just too damn funny. Nothing that 2 section do surprises her anymore, she can readily explain to anyone who wants to know just why their called the Under 5's. Their enthusiasm is as infectious as a toddlers and she thanks them mentally for keeping her sane with their antics throughout this tour.

'On the count of three' she hears someone shout and she twists to see the glittering water of his rainbow coloured paddling pool underneath her. They've covered the distance more rapidly than she thought they would- the excitement of the task in hand clearly kicking them into action.

'Put me down' she yells without thinking.

'What was that?' asks Baz.

'The lady kindly requests that we put her down' quips Dangleberries and she feels their grip loosen on her legs. All of them snorting in amusement at his use of the term 'lady' to describe her.

'I'm up for that' says Smurf 'You're bloody heavy Molls'

'Not in the pool' she gasps, because even though she's drenched in sweat she doesn't want to get soaked.

'One' says Smurf, ignoring her. 'Two-'

'Don't you sodding dare' she snaps, but they're letting go and it's as if she's in slow motion because she slapping through the air with little to no dignity to crash into the water in the pool. She lands on her arse and as she opens her mouth to protest, a slap of water crashes over her lips- classy. She chokes, coughing loudly as strong hands reach in to splash her further, soaking through her T-shirt in a matter of seconds.

'She's one of the lads' they begin to sing, voices rough and off key- 'One of the lads, Molls is one of the lads' She's giggling before she can stop herself- hands reaching below the glistening water to splash the bastards back. They squeal like young toddlers, an incongruous mix with their deep laughs and muscular chests. It's like she's young again- pissing about in the back garden with her mum and dad.

'What the hell is going on here?'

It's his voice- low and angry, the beginnings of a snarl and just like that the happiness is instantly quashed. The carefree moment drowned out as if it's been dumped in the lukewarm water just like she was. She turns to see James, hands crossed and eyes narrowed as he stares down at her, face twisted in disbelief.

There's a deathly silence, broken only by sound of the lads shifting uneasily, droplets pattering off their kit to fall on the sand. Her body instantly reacts to him, warmth spreading through her limbs as if he is trailing those strong hands across her damp skin and she blushes because he must be able to tell- god knows the feelings have become so strong now it must be obvious.

'Someone needs to explain' he snaps again and she watches Kinders jog up behind his shoulder- glaring daggers at all of them, head shaking in despair. There had been talk of a surprise at the end of this week- a luxury that is clearly no longer going to be granted to them, not after this little stunt. She glances across to Smurf because technically this had been all his idea- his gaze is focused on the floor, jaw clenched as he focuses all his energy on breathing In and out.

'Need I remind you that your professional soldiers, In the British sodding army?' They flinch in unison as he shouts. 'In service to the queen- god help her.' Someone lets out a snort and he whips round to work out who it was- hand brushing through his hair in frustration at the idiots under his charge. No one moves or even dares to breathe after that. 'We do not act like a bunch of arseholes and we certainly do not throw other members of the platoon in my swimming pool'. His gaze snaps back to hers then, still soaked and blushing in the tepid water.

'Get out of the pool' he seethes and she doesn't think she's ever heard him sound so angry. Her chest tightening in pain as it always does when he's mad with them. She swallows, slowly climbing to her feet as if her limbs are made of lead. The water rushes down her lithe form to splatter back into the water and she's suddenly aware of her bright red sports bra that is now very visible through her thin white vest -his gaze never leaves her own.

'Sorry sir' she attempts to mumble, anything to reduce the strain of the silence that's buzzing round her ears. 'it was just meant to be a bit of fun' she adds, but as she speaks her foot catches on the bottom of the inflatable pool and she's crashing back down to the floor before she can stop herself- legs crumpling under herself like the prat she is. Water flipping up in a dainty arch to splash over the whole lot of them all over again- Kinders and Captain James included. She chokes on the water and suddenly she can't seem to get any breath, lungs desperately gasping for some semblance of oxygen. No one laughs now- silence boring down on her as she thrashes helplessly to right herself, coughing on the water which has taken her yet again by surprise. Panic flashes to her stomach, the lapping water gently reminding her that she can't actually swim, even though she knows the water isn't even that deep. Her legs seem to be tangled underneath herself- moving pointlessly across the slippery surface but she can't seem to actually move, it's like she's back on that bloody exercise bike.

Suddenly a strong hand is gripping her bare arm, pulling her to her feet- crushing against her skin so hard she immediately knows it will bruise tomorrow. She feels him tug her towards him, hand looping round her back to guide her over the lip of the swimming pool. She sways unbalanced as the world swims in front of her eyes, co-ordination all gone to pot in a matter of seconds. She's breathing heavily, retching out the stagnant water that's blocking off her breathing and his eyes narrow in concern, pushing back the damp hair from her face before he can stop himself. It's such an intimate gesture that a sudden movement behind his left shoulder seconds later is the only reminder that the whole of 2 sections are still here watching her, watching them. She blushes, heat moving to her skin so quickly it feels like she's caught it in the sun.

'Sir?' Kinders asks, he's clearly unsure of what to do next- how to re-establish the discipline after they've all just watched Molly make a prize prat of herself. She watches James taking a step away from her, deep breath as he re-centres himself, heavy military boots moving away from her soaked trainers. There is water dripping from his shirt- droplets that have landed on him because of his close proximity to her.

'2 section.' He snaps and they all stiffen, alert and disciplined in a heartbeat. 'Mail bag is banned for a week, starting Monday'. Silence greets his words and she glances across before she can stop herself just to check that the rest of her usually gobby section are actually still there. 'You can cry down the phone to your parents about it all you like, but don't even think about getting them to complain to HQ or I'll come down on you like a tonne of sodding bricks'. There's a pause while he surveys them but his gaze doesn't meet her own. 'You idiots bought this on yourselves. –Do you understand me?'

'Sir' they all mumble in agreement.

'What was that?'

'Yes sir' they shout, voices harsh and disciplined- they're no longer the young lads of a few minutes ago. They've fully fledged into men in a matter of seconds, right before her eyes.

'Private Dawse' he snaps and her blush is back- coursing over her skin even though he is refusing to make eye contact with her. 'I suggest you follow the uniform regulations next time you exercise- You of all people should know its combats' and he's referencing her first PT session when she rocked up in a T-shirt and shorts. 'Its always combats' He sends her a pointed glance down and back up her legs again, deepening the heat of her face, before swivelling away from them, shoulders tensed as he crosses the compound in quick easy strides.

'Do you want another cup of tea Molls' Fingers asks, thin face narrowed in concern as he swivels to gaze at her, one hand refilling the communal tea urn with hot water.

'You just got me one- like 10 minutes ago' she says, eyes slanting down into confusion.

'So you don't want another one?' he asks

'No she laughs, 'no I bloody do not.'. She's sat on one of the long tables, oversized jumper slung on over her combats as the last sunlight of the day stretches out of the camp. There's half drunk mug of tea in front of her, a cup Fingers had placed down in front of her without her asking- a thoughtful gesture as its at this time of night that she usually starts to reach for the caffeine. 2 section are sprawled all around her- crammed onto the dinner tables, though the last meal of the day was cleared away long before. They are all sat in relative silence, clustered into small groups- some playing cards, others writing letters home.

The day has passed fairly slowly since the incident, drill and then another patrol the only activities that have broken up the tense atmosphere. No ones mentioned the massive tit she made of herself which she is thankful for- though how long that will last is unknown. One thing that has changed is how they're treating her- skirting round her as if she's going to break and she doesn't like it. Its almost funny how considerate they are being, scraping to her every whim with an intensity and enthusiasm which borders on frightening. Smurf is the worst, following her round like a lost puppy- large eyes staring at her when he thinks she's not looking. He's even offered to clean her rifle, a job she knows he loathes not least because of how time consuming it is. She had agreed in jest, sarcasm bubbling up before she could stop herself. He had'nt realised the humour and it had taken a good few minutes for her to convince him she wasn't being serious.

He's sat next to her now, scribbling out a letter to his mum- tongue sticking out between his teeth as it always does when he's concentrating. He notices her watching him and looks up.

'You alright?' he asks, 'You want anything?' he moves to stand up but she pulls him back down, rolling her eyes at his panicked concern.

'No you plonker -I was just looking at you. Im allowed to do that aren't I ?'

He shrugs, 'If you want to'. his gaze rests on her for a while before his eyes flick back to his letter to continue writing.

'What you writing about?' she asks after a pause.

'Today' he mumbles, 'You, the paddling pool, us being pricks' She leans across in disbelief but he's not lying, eyes scanning across 'Molly' 'captain James' and 'Bolllocking'

'You better be telling her how hilarious it was'

'Haven't got to that yet' he sighs

'Well put it in' she says 'don't want your mum feeling sorry for me- I was laughing my head off'

'That's true' he says in agreement, smile sprawling onto his face as the memory. He laughs softly as she starts to hum the tune to 'one of the lads'

'Ooh get that bit in as well' she says, leaning across him to tap the paper 'the singing was the best part'

'It was something special' he quips and she feels relief charging through her because their back onto normal ground. Humour is once again their currency as they laugh and jibe at one another. He turns to her again, eyes a question and she senses his need for confirmation- to make 100% sure she is okay.

'Im fine' she says laughing at his creased brow. 'Honest you dick head, cross my heart'. He nods- once, twice and then shouts across to Fingers still stood by the tea urn.

'Cup of tea mate?'

Fingers snorts in response, falling back into the easy rhythm of section banter 'Not on your sodding life Smurfoid. Im not your mother'

'Break it to me gently mum' Smurf yells back, feigning mock upset. 'I mean fingers'

A cup is lobbed across to their side of the table at that and the laughter returns, almost as if someone's flicked a switch so normality can resume. She grins laughing along with them- heart clenching joyfully that all is well, 2 section banter is clearly back for good. She's back to being treated like their younger sister- insults hurled her way in a glorious folly.

An hour later the tables are abandoned- its only her left- knees drawn up to her chin as she cradles her warm mug, her third cup in the space of a few hours. The last before bed. Stretching like a cat she makes to move inside, the lack of sun rapidly cooling her down, slight breeze tugging gently on the hem of her billowing jumper as she moves towards the communal tent where she sleeps. She pauses outside his sleeping quarters as she always does, feet winding her way past his tent without her realising. His tent flap is conveniently open so she manages a quick glance inside as she passes. He's sat at his desk- talking quietly to someone on his laptop screen and his head jerks up as she walks past.

'Dawse'' he shouts and her legs are frozen instantly, blood crashing to her face as it always does whenever he so much as mentions her name. She hears him moving to the tent opening and she swivels to look at him. He's bloody leaning again, the long angles of his body on display as he does so. He's wearing a navy T-shirt and she wants to ask him how the hell he's not cold right now but she doesn't have the courage. He inclines his head into his tent, dark eyes crashing into her wide ones and she moves as if in a trance following him into a space which is just so typically him. Ordered and functional- limited decoration, army regulations pinned on the wall instead of family photos.

There's a women on skype, older- with greyish hair that's been cut into an attractive bun. She has the same strong profile as James and in an instant she knows its his mother. The expensive wallpaper behind her head only confirming this hypothesis. She doesn't seem to realise Molly is in the room- the darkness of the tent concealing Molly's figure in the corner.

'I've got to go now Mum' she hears him murmur, leaning over his apple mac so she can see him.

The women nods, eyes crinkling into a forced smile. 'of course dear- been good talking to you'

'And you' he replies, smiling back- hand reaching into a brief wave.

'Take care' the lady whispers and then she's gone, an attempt to disconnect the skype call before he can hear the emotion that's clearly building in her throat. .

'Sorry about that' he says, gently pushing the laptop lid closed, hands running across his creased forehead.

'Was she pissed?' she cant help but ask, words out before she can stop them.

'Sorry?' he questions, eyes narrowing back at her impertinence.

'About your swimming pool boss- How we bastards ruined it for you'

His lips quirk into a smile at that, 'Your right there. I'm certainly never going to use it again- not after the way you crashed about in it '

'I could sue you' she says, eyebrows rising to drive the point home. 'I sustained deep injuries at the hands of your pool'

'Ah but its my private property- any injuries you receive are as a result of trespassing which therefore negates that argument'

'I was thrown in' she protests

'You didn't seem to be complaining' and he's right, though the way he's looking at her- all judgemental, makes her feel uncomfortable. Its almost as if he's blaming her for being dumped in his pool today and that wasn't what happened.

'I wanted to talk to you about kit Dawse' he continues, 'I just wanted to remind you that the regulations on what you can and can't wear are there for a reason. Rules should be obeyed whenever possible and I see no reason for you to have an exception'

'I've been wearing my shorts since I arrived' she protests, because it's clear that's what he's getting at 'you've never mentioned it before'

'There was never a right time' he snaps, which she knows is a lie- there's been plenty of quiet moments between them. Too many to count.

'But Its sodding boiling here' she says

'I noticed Dawse'

'Exercising in combats gets me too warm'

He shrugs, 'That's none of my concern- im simply here to remind you that you need to follow the regulations, Especially as a women in an all male camp.'

'What the hell does that mean?' she says, moving out of the shadows to glare at him directly.

'Don't get all feminist on my ass' he says rolling his eyes- ' but clearly your going to have a different effect on the platoon when you rock up in those short shorts of yours than if Smurf was wearing them

'So its my fault' she snaps

'That's not what I said. he protests, shifting towards her so he can lean over her- forcing her to look up into his eyes. 'I'm just saying, they are a group of young lads- There not used to a young women exercising in the gym alongside them'

'Do I need to run a special induction' she snaps 'How to pull weights as a female cycles alongside you?'

'Dawse' he snaps.

'Or maybe I should build my own gym?' she seethes- 'what about I put it on the outside wall, prime view for all the Taliban to do target practice with.

'I was watching them today' he says and she bites back a retort about how he was actually watching her, because his fingers are tapping against his leg- unceasingly, a sure sign that he's stressed. 'and I don't like the way some of them have started watching you when your on that sodding bike with those short of yours'

'You don't like the way they're watching me?' she explodes, 'What gives you any right to care?'

'Im you commanding officer' he snaps, 'its my job to care'

'Really?' she asks, 'You sure as hell don't act like it sometimes' He colours at that.

'They're all staring at your ass Dawse' he snaps and a deep red blush whips over his face before he can stop it. 'That's why I want you to follow the army regulations.' His words wind her- knocking the air out her lungs before she can stop it. She's suddenly reliving smurfs long looks as she was cycling, gaze resting for too long on her tanned legs. 'Your surrounded by lads, day in day out and they're a brilliant lot- but sometimes. Well at times they can take it too far... They get excited- like today'

'Ah' she says, voice faded into a whisper. His eyes are staring into her own as he speaks and she has to remind herself how to breathe- deep exhales and inhales. She gets it instantly- understands his concerns. They're reaching that phase of the tour when they all know each other inside and out and a few of them have been pushing the boundaries, bending the line between friendship and attraction.

'None of them mean any harm' he murmurs, cool breath in and out. 'It's just today with that bloody paddling pool... It wasn't professional at all. They got carried away.' She's still in silence as his looks across at her. gaze troubled. 'I can mention it at the next session if you want me to'

'Don't' she snaps- pained. 'It would just make it weird you know? I view them all as brothers'

He nods stiffly, shifting closer towards her so his crossed arms brush her jumper. His warm body just outside her reach- trembling minutely in the cool air of his tent.

'And what about me?' he asks and his arms are suddenly intertwining with her own. long fingers prising open her clenched fists with easy pressure.

'You?'

'Do you see me as a brother?' he murmurs and she cant think because he's so close. The closest she's ever been and its nothing like what she expected. Its more than she could ever have imagined- so tangible, so raw.

'Your my boss' she murmurs

'Not forever' he instantly says, almost as if he's thought about this before, crossed this line in his own mind to land him here. He pulls her closer- if that's even possible- fingers slipping under her chin to tilt her head up to his unrelenting gaze.

'Your not gonna tell on me?' she asks, 'If I tell you.' her breath comes out in a breathy gasp. ' see I know what your like with all them army regulations...'

Its the excuse he needed and he's covered the distance between them in a heartbeat- hands either side of her head- fingers resting on her temples as he presses his lips to her own. Their softer than she imagined, she's see him bite them so many times in confusion that she expected them to be ragged and raw. But they slide gently against her own, awakening that heat that' she had to bury for so long. Her hands are in his hair- sliding through the unruly mop that errs just on the right side of regulations. Regulations that they've broken and she doesn't care, not when it feels this damn good. He lets out a noise- somewhere between a groan and shudder and she presses herself closer- wires their skeletons closer as if somehow she can make them one. His warm arms are brushing up underneath her jumper, sliding up her shuddering chest to just below her bra- the same bright red one that the whole of 2 section saw today. His hands rest on the elastic- pausing. waiting for some agreement from her that they can move further. So she slides her tongue into his mouth- heavy, warm and suddenly she can't distinguish which is his skin and which is hers. They're woven too tightly- like the threads on his Egyptian cotton pillow case that he had sent over a few weeks in. Her hands graze his stubble- catching gently on the sensitive skin of her fingertips and their teeth clash as he kisses her deeper. His hands are moving across her chest now, tapping out dangerous melodies on her hot skin and she's not sure how she can ever stop kissing him. Not after this.

Its him that pulls back first, breath coming in jagged gasps that fan out over her face like waves. He stares at her as if seeing her for the first time, as if suddenly realising what they've done. She looks down- eyes wide as she waits for the crash of anger that no doubt will occur. But he stays silent- hands moving slowly under her top- retreating back across her hot skin that he was so desperate to conquer moments before.

'I'll go' she says, because she really doesn't want to look into his face if he's regretting this- she's not sure how she's going to cope, actinh normal around him on a day to day basis. Stepping away from him feels wrong and the cold air slaps against her legs in anger, her body desperate to stay close to his. She realises that her hands are still looped around his neck and she gently pulls them away, desperately attempting to find something to say as she retreats from him but nothing comes.

'Molly' he murmurs but she's slipping away from him now- body addicted to the feeling of escaping, running away from this chaos that neither of them can comprehend.

'Stay' he suddenly says and its an order, softly spoken but an order all the same. So she does, hands retangling with his own before she can help herself.