My Angel.

He felt awful. Just bloody awful. Was there a part of him that didn't hurt?

Charles opened his eyes groggily, trying to adapt to the bright, artificial light. A sterile smell hung in the air and a machine beeped steadily beside him. He slowly tried to figure out where he was.

And then it hit him like a train.

Afghanistan. Badrai. The bullets hitting him, the searing pain spreading to every inch of his body. The worst pain he had ever felt in his entire life. And then his angel, appearing above him. Her beautiful face breaking through the darkness, willing him to survive.

"Molly," he muttered through the drug induced haze. A figure was beside him in an instant.

"Molly, oh my God Molly," he called out, reaching. Familiar fingers laced his.

"Actually," the figure began as his vision cleared. It revealed blonde hair, not brunette as he was hoping for. "It's Rebecca. Not Molly."

His ex-wife's voice seemed filled with disdain. Charles managed to lift his head up – with great difficulty – to look around the room, taking in the machines.

"Where am I?" he asked, confused. The last time he was aware like this, he was in the deserts of Afghanistan.

"Birmingham," she replied shortly, squeezing his hand. Though the touch was meant to be comforting, it just felt awkward to him.

"But…" he tried, not able to put the pieces together. When did he get here? Was Badrai dead?

Rebecca went on to explain what she had been told by the army. He'd been placed in an induced coma for the best part of 8 days. He'd been flown back to the UK about 4 days, once he was stable enough. She mentioned Smurf was on the ward below, doing well. He'd visited many times too, and was meant to be visiting again soon.

Charles sighed in relief. Smurf was okay. "Where's Sam? Has he been here?"

Rebecca nodded. "He's fine. He's with your parents. Getting food, I think."

"Okay," he said. There was just one more person he wondered about. He wanted to ask Rebecca if she knew how Molly was, if someone had perhaps mentioned about her.

Apparently Rebecca still knew him well because she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"That Molly girl you kept mumbling about in your sleep," she said with disgust, pulling away from him and looking to the side. "I heard she was fine too. Also heard some other things about her."

Her words made Charles angry. Rebecca had no right to be talking about Molly in such a manner. The machine beeped louder in response to his increased heart rate and blood pressure. "That Molly girl saved my life. I wouldn't be here, alive, without her."

He had to take to take a sudden intake of breath as pain abruptly ripped through his abdomen. He bent forward, unable to take another breath through the pain. He suddenly felt weak and he was drenched in sweat.

"Charles?" Rebecca shouted, panicked. She immediately stood to press the emergency buzzer above his bed. This high pitched sound rang through his ears.

He couldn't see anymore. His vision become blurry and dark, struggling the focus on the shapes around him. But he couldn't think of anything but the pain in his abdomen; burning, stabbing, tearing all at once.

He felt the urge to vomit and before he knew what was happening he was expelling the contents of his stomach, staining his hospital gown bright red. A sight even he knew was not normal.

He could faintly hear Rebecca screaming to someone. Nurses and doctors were rushing around him now, though they seemed to be moving in slow motion. He couldn't understand what was happening. Charles could make out words like 'internal bleed' and 'emergency surgery'. He could feel himself blacking out.

He panicked. This couldn't be happening. He hadn't seen her. He didn't know if she was okay.

"Molly!" He called out. He could feel a wave of sedative pass through his system. He couldn't fight it any more. He just prayed with his last bit of strength she would be there for him when he woke.

Charles was back in Afghanistan. He could feel the heat on his skin, the soft breeze pass through his fingers. And she was next to him.

Molly.

His angel.

She was dressed casually; her black vest top and her black short shorts. Her brunette hair tumbled down her back in glorious waves.

He reached out to touch her shoulder. Something about this didn't feel real. But her skin was soft, delicate, like he remembered. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes.

"Captain James," she said sadly. "You're here."

"I never meant to leave you," he said, his hand moving to her face.

"You shouldn't be here," she told him, her hand resting on top of his. A look of worry etched on her beautiful face.

He then looked around. Where even were they? There was nothing surrounding them. It was just desert for miles. Where was Bastion? Where were the rest of the platoon?

He turned back to Molly but… she had gone. "Molly?" he called out, panicking. He stood up and span, searching. Then he saw her in the distance. She was now wearing a long, white sundress, which blew gently in the wind, the huge Afghan sun behind her. "Molly!"

"You need to wake up!" she called back to him. "You need to come back to me!"

Go back to her? He couldn't understand where he was. He looked at his hands. They looked somehow transparent. Was he… dying?

Charles stopped, staring at her. He closed his eyes, picturing her smile, her laugh. No matter where he was right now, he wanted to get back to her – no, he needed to.

He tried to will himself to wake up, to get back to reality. He decided wherever the hell he was it wasn't real. But something was stopping him. Something heavy weighed him down.

"I can't!" He called out, hoping Molly was still nearby.

"You need to break through the wall of pain," her voice explained, encouraging. He suddenly sensed her nearby and knew he had to do something to get back to her. His eyes remained tightly shut and he focused on Molly, on getting home.

The heat of Afghanistan faded. A feeling of familiarity returned to him. A monotonous beeping sound pulsed in his ears.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Was he… in Birmingham? He wasn't sure. The pain from before had greatly subsided to just a dull ache. Probably all the painkillers he'd been loaded with. He blinked a few times, trying to work out what had just happened; morphine was obviously an amazing drug, giving him such vivid hallucinations.

Slowly, he turned his head. And he saw her – Molly. She stood on the other side of the window, looking as beautiful as ever. She was dressed in her army gear. Smurf stood alongside her.

He didn't think they were real, just another hallucination. But he smiled at the sight of them anyway. He was surprised when they smiled back, and the nurse moved to call them into the room. Surely he couldn't be making this all up?

But then she walked into his room and stood at the end of the bed. She told him she was real and drug-free, in her usual jokey manner. He couldn't believe how glad he was to see her. Then when Smurf left – hospital breakfast being an obvious decoy – she came forward, and held his hand. She quiety shushed him, comforting him. He wanted to be the one comforting her.

He didn't like feeling like this; weak and vulnerable. He was used to being strong, courageous, a leader. Someone that people looked to in tough times. Now he was lying in hospital bed, attached to machines and having to relying on others to care for him.

But despite all that, having Molly here with him made everything felt like it was going be okay. Whatever the outcome of the attack, Charles knew everything would be okay as long as he was with Molly.

He then looked at her properly. Her eyes were sunken; exhausted. Her face looked as though she had lost weight since he last saw her. He wanted to ask her everything about their time apart. He wanted to ask how she was coping after the contact with Badrai.

Just as he opened his mouth, Rebecca came through the door. She always had good timing. Along with his gorgeous son, Sam. He was so happy to see him. Molly then excused herself from the room – probably for the best.

Rebecca waited for the door to shut. "So that's Molly, then? Really Charles?"

"Seriously, Rebecca?" Charles responded, still feeling very weak. "Why are you being like this? And right now?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it, rethinking her words. "It's just she's not your type of girl."

Charles tried to ignore her but he couldn't. "And you are?"

She huffed in her seat.

"What are you even doing here, Rebecca?" he asked.

"I just… Sam… I needed to make sure Sam had a father," she said simply. "Come on Sam, let's go find Nanny and Grandad. Daddy needs to sleep."

Later that afternoon, after his parents had visited and he'd slept- a lot, a nurse was checking his leg wound. She told him it looked good, though it was likely he'd need to wear to wear a supportive boot for a few months as well as attend many sessions of rehab. It was too early to say whether he'd ever be able to run on it as he had before.

As she spoke, he looked out the window and saw Molly peeking through. He beckoned her in. She asked about Rebecca, and he told her about his plans to resign his commission – the attack had happened on his watch, after all.

She had rested on the bed and ran her hand gently through his hair.

"We don't have to wait out anymore," he told her, and the smile she gave him made his heart soar.

They spoke quietly for a minutes, enjoying being together again after such a long period of separation.

"Morphine is one hell of a drug," he told her as she played with his hand.

"What makes you say that?"

"I… had a very odd hallucination when I was asleep. You were there. It seemed so real…"

"Oh yeah?" Molly asked. "What was I doin'?"

He looked away, embarrassed. "We were back in Afghan. Just us two. Then you were gone… and you were saying I had to come back to you. I think I was dying. And you encouraged me to stay alive."

She looked at him blankly, and he swear he saw her eyes become glassy with tears. Then she burst out laughing. "Oh my God, that's some supernatural shit right there!"

"Excuse me!" he said, laughing a long with her. "I'm trying to tell you this seriously."

"Sorry Boss," she murmured. "I just don't like think about you… dying and all that. I'm very glad you came back to me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Whatever happens, I'll always return to you," he told her, squeezing her hand. He suddenly felt totally exhausted, despite doing nothing but laying in a bed. His eyes felt heavy and his breathing slowed.

"Go to sleep baby," she said quietly, stroking his hand. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" he mumbled, barely coherent.

"Yeah, of course you numpty," she replied, sitting on the plastic chair next to his bed, not removing her hand from his.

She watched him as he fell asleep, and smiled to herself. He was okay. They were okay.

Charles dreamt of Molly, of His Angel, his saviour. And just like she promised, she was there when he woke up.

Thank you for reading. I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out. But when I watched the 5th episode again (and again!) and I wondered why he said about them being real so I wanted to write a little idea I had. And also I thought if Rebecca had any idea about who Molly was when she saw her; I kind of thought she did because of how she looked at her and everything.

What do you guys think?

Thank you to eleanor44 for giving me the idea to write this!