Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
And let the world spin madly on
Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
(The Weepies, World Spins Madly On)
October 2019
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
Charles scrambled on the floor of the soaked car park, knees now wet from the puddle he'd been forced to park his car in. The piles of paperwork he'd spent most of the night organising into some form of order had fallen from his partially opened rucksack and were now decorating the tarmac, until one by one they were either rescued or blown away by the strong autumn winds.
"This fucking day….." he muttered as he made his way into the imposing building, the sodden papers he'd managed to rescue in tow. He knew he'd have to find somewhere to sort himself out before he found his way to the briefing he'd driven for hours to reach. His internal panic levels began to rise in a now familiar way as he moved as quickly as possible.
The chilly corridor provided shelter but no warmth. The challenge of mentally pulling himself together started before he made his way to the room he'd been told in advance to attend. The now familiar process in his brain registered as he began the pattern of tensing particular muscle groups one at a time before letting them relax. To anybody watching him he would appear relaxed and at ease. The reality was a different beast.
"7 things you can see. Focus."
He muttered the instruction under his breath as his senses caught up and he remembered the mantra Sarah had taught him.
The grains of the wooden floor as the corridor stretched out before him.
The clinical brightness of the strips of light up ahead.
The 2 squaddies passing him by in the corridor, both nodding briefly to recognise his presence.
The tiny brunette woman now approaching him with a face that resembled something between shock and horror before it was tightly packed away and a neutral mask crossed her features.
Fuck.
The usual calming effect of the exercise to identify things he could see, hear and smell around him was defeated, the deafening thump of his heart rushing in his ears.
Her footsteps finally came to a stop as she approached, although he wouldn't have blamed her for failing to stop altogether. He was amazed it had taken this long for the first awkward meeting to take place.
"Molly"
"Sir" she acknowledged while staring past him and down the corridor, reminding him that he wasn't entitled to use first names any more.
His brain struggled with all the many things he should say in this setting. The words he'd gone over in his head so many times. He'd always known that their paths had to cross one day and he'd always tried to be prepared with some kind of explanation. Instead, words temporarily failed him. His head bowed for a second to meet her eyes as he took in the short wavy shoulder length bob, one side tucked firmly behind her ear.
"You cut your hair." There was a tone of surprise in his words.
"You fucked my mate." Her voice, devoid of any emotion or anger, cut through his thoughts. He flinched at the harshness of her words as she shrugged and now looked him dead in the eye. "People do surprising things."
The words didn't feel unlike the memory of taking a bullet to his stomach. It would never fail to surprise him how much he could cringe at most of his actions during that disastrous time in his life. He inhaled deeply before trying again.
"You look well."
It wasn't a lie, but he cringed the minute the hasty words left his mouth.
She bit back a response, clearing her throat noticeably. He only caught a brief glimpse of the anger flashing in her eyes before she masked it, her expression neutral once again. He was horrified at the change, realising that she was no longer the same Molly - the one who wore her heart on her sleeve. It was firmly locked away now. From him anyway.
"Was there anything else?" Her heels rocked on the ground, her impatience to flee the scene clear. His mind briefly flicked through the many professional reasons he could use to ask her to stay and speak with him, and found himself short. There were a million things he wanted to know; where she'd been, how she was. But he no longer had the right to ask.
"No." He shook his head as he forced his eyes to the ground for a brief second. Watching her mask any emotion, except a clear wish to run in the opposite direction had been even more painful than he'd thought it would be. He knew he deserved it, that it was nothing in comparison to the pain he'd caused her. "Nothing else."
She swallowed back what he suspected was something he might not want to hear, before turning on her heels and moving as fast as she could down the empty corridor without breaking into a run.
—
"I saw Molly yesterday. First time."
Sarah considered his words. She had a habit of maintaining eye contact in a way that tempted him to focus on the glass of water sitting on the table in front of him instead. Three times a week she presented him with the same comfortable chair to sit on, next to a table loaded with a glass of water and an ominous looking box of paper tissues that he'd never yet used. He hadn't voluntarily mentioned Molly's name in months.
"How did it go?"
He did his best impression of a man completely unbothered, nodding as he crossed his arms in defence. His brief attempt at a smile ended in a grimace.
"Yep. Fine"
"Fine?"
"Yes. Well as fine as it could have gone in the circumstances. I'm still in one piece I suppose."
An eyebrow was briefly raised at his attempt at a joke as she tried another route to get him to open up. Over the course of his time with her he had progressed well in many ways, but Molly was an ever lingering presence which had never truly been resolved. "How did it make you feel?"
He sighed at her usual question. The truth was it made him feel shit at the variety of ways in which he'd fucked up the best thing he'd ever had. He tried for a diplomatic response instead.
"Uncomfortable."
At Sarah's prompting stare, he continued "-she was different."
"In what sense? It must be quite some time since you've seen her?"
He looked pained at the reminder. "One year, eleven months and five days. Not that I'm counting."
Sarah nodded, her pen tapping on the paper as she considered the best way to continue.
"It would be more surprising if she was still the same Molly that you remember, surely?" At his silence she continued. "Separation from a partner is one of the most stressful life changes a person can go through. And the circumstances of your separation weren't amicable, were they?" She already knew the answer. The long term counselling was a condition of his deal to stay in the Army. One last chance to sort his world out.
"No. Not amicable." He cleared the lump in his throat as the sudden memory of her words the last time he'd seen her flooded his brain. The force of the emotion that flooded his body took him by surprise. The counselling and medication were usually enough at this stage to take the edges from the pain of the flashbacks, but this one had slipped through the net.
—
"You've destroyed me. God fucking forgive me for saying this, but thank god Elvis ain't here to see what you've done. He'd be devastated." She sat on the bottom stair, the crumpled paperwork he'd been served with detailing the proceedings against him in her hand. Her eyes were raw with pain and tears, but he felt the usual numbness at the sight. Almost like none of this was happening to him. He was a sorry observer on somebody else's life, and had been since the minute he watched Elvis fall from that building.
"Molly…"
"Don't talk to me. Just leave. Maybe ask her, when you see her for your next shag, if she remembers your wedding day and the vows she sat through where you promised you'd be with me until your last breath. The last thing you saw." Her voice broke at the last sentence.
"I meant it Molly, I just…"
"Get out. Just get out!" As she stood from the stairs, the paperwork was thrown in his direction and he scrabbled to pick the pieces from the floor. "I don't want your bullshit explanation about how you need to take care of her. You can save it for the Brig. I just never wanna see you again. Either of you."
There was no anger left at that minute, just a resigned acceptance as the tears crashed silently down her cheeks and he did as she requested, closing the door behind him for the final time.
—-
"Charles?"
"Sorry." He shook his head as if trying to rid the sudden memory from his brain. The numbness he'd felt at the time was replaced now whenever he relived the memory by a mounting sense of horror at what he'd done. He still couldn't quite bring himself into the present, the vision of Molly's pained face still in his consciousness.
"You seem distracted."
"I just don't understand." He trailed off as he tried to conjure up all of the reasons he'd used to justify his actions at the time. "I did what I did, and at the time it felt like it made perfect sense. Molly was always going to be brilliant. She didn't need me to make that happen. I truly felt like Lane needed me. We needed each other."
"And now?"
"And now.." his head disappeared into his hands for a brief moment before re-emerging. "All I can think is that it feels like it all happened to somebody else. Like I was an observer on my own life for huge chunks of time. I'm dealing with the repercussions, but I don't actually understand how it happened in the first place."
"The mind is powerful, Charles." He tried his hardest to avoid rolling his eyes at her words as she continued. "The feeling of numbness you describe was your brain and body's way of trying to protect you at that time." The look of deep scepticism on his face deepened but Sarah continued regardless. "Think back to when you were physically injured. To avoid feeling any pain, your body's reaction was to shut down through an initial reaction of numbness, yes?" He nodded with silent understanding at her explanation. "You were in shock. The brain is no different. One of the protection mechanisms it can revert to is the numbness that you describe."
There was a moment of reflection from Charles. "Ok. I can maybe begin to understand that part, but I struggle to accept how I could have convinced myself at the time that I was acting rationally."
"When you're suffering from PTSD, the usual rules don't apply in relation to reasoning. You were in denial about your condition, and the symptoms you experienced at that time. It's not unusual in that state to make decisions and act in a manner which would in normal circumstances make no sense to you."
He considered her words for a moment, the anguish clear on his face. "I'm not here to make excuses for my behaviour. I've seen plenty of colleagues with PTSD. As far as I'm aware, none of them have taken it as an opportunity to be unfaithful to their wives."
"Perhaps not. But I'm sure you will agree that it caused them to act out of character? Make calls and decisions which you wouldn't ordinarily expect from them?"
"Yes"
"So there is an element of common ground which you can appreciate?"
He didn't answer, mulling over her words. Encouraged by his silence, she pushed further.
"Are you still in contact with Corporal Lane?"
She realised she'd pushed him too far as he backed off physically, retreating into his chair. He paused, looking at the floor before he was able to raise his eyes and look at her again, the awkwardness clear in his face.
"We speak from time to time in passing, not often. I suspect she has even more contempt for me than Molly does, if that's possible."
"And why do you think that's the case?"
He opened his mouth as if to speak but paused before he began. It took a second or two for him to regain his composure and answer the question. "I pursued Lane. I used my position to my advantage and I continued to pursue her even when she'd told me no. I took advantage of her loneliness and grief, and I cheated on my wife. I broke my wedding vows." His voice faltered on the last confession. "They were both humiliated publicly thanks to my stupidity. Molly was destroyed. I don't blame either of them for hating me."
The weight of his words filled the room, Sarah's silence urging him to continue. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, bringing his elbow to rest on his knees as he leaned his body forwards. "I think the only thing worse than being in this position is knowing it was entirely self inflicted. I went against everything I believe in, everything I've worked towards, and I still don't fully understand why."
Sarah pulled her glasses from her eyes as she stopped taking the brief notes that were usual in their sessions. "I think it's important to address the ongoing guilt that you feel about the situation."
His eyebrows raised in apprehension. "It really doesn't feel helpful to relive it."
"I'm not asking you to relive it. An important part of your recovery is to acknowledge the events and move on from them though. You can't change what happened. What you do have some control over is how you move forward from this."
"I need to accept that Molly will never forgive me, don't I?" Worry lines creased his forehead before he tugged the hair at the back of his neck in frustration.
Sarah stood as she spoke, his signal that the session was already over. "I can't answer that question for you Charles. Nobody can but Molly. I can only suggest that you try to work towards forgiving yourself first"
—-
December 2019
As snow began to fall in soft flakes from the sky, Charles' fingers, numb from the cold, fumbled with the key to the door at Royal Crescent. The handle eventually gave way to let him into the vast hallway. The silence in the house wasn't surprising - Sam could usually be found muttering into the headset connected to his Xbox, playing against his online friends. Anything more than a grumble or mutter as he played would be unexpected.
"Hello..." his welcome echoed in the hall as he dropped his bergen to the marble floor and ventured towards the kitchen, where he was sure he would find company. Margaret James was predictable, and her favourite spot in the house, warmed by the large Aga oven creating heat in the room as she crocheted, was a running joke in the family. He wasn't wrong. She sat at the kitchen table behind a pot of a tea and a plate of biscuits he could have sworn were usually saved for visitors.
"Sorry to land on you early..." he moved towards her for a brief hug as he helped himself to a biscuit despite a crack on the knuckles from Margaret. She sighed as he continued to speak with his mouth half full of crumbs. "-Change of plans. Where's Sam?"
"He's upstairs."
The voice behind him caused him to whip round with full force with surprise. Her small frame leaned against the kitchen worktop, a full mug gripped by her hands. Her expression was no more welcoming than the last time they'd met, but he was more thrown by the familiarity this time. She wasn't in uniform, just her usual knitted jumper and jeans, in his parents' kitchen. It felt like he could have stepped back years in time to the last time they'd been here together. The awkward silence loomed until she filled it.
"Twice in two months now. Lucky me."
Molly smiled a small tight lipped smile as she aimed her eyes at Margaret instead of Charles, and placed her still full cup on the counter. "I'll be off then. Thanks again Mrs J. Don't get a good choice of biccies like that at barracks."
She wasn't escaping without a warm hug. "You're always welcome darling, you know that. Stay safe out there, and let me know how you're getting on."
Molly dared to aim a glance at Charles for just a second, his eyes aimed at the floor as he tried to ground himself.
"I'll just go up and say bye to Sammie before I leave, if that's ok?" The question was aimed at Margaret and he didn't intervene, still trying to wrap his brain around what the hell was happening.
"You don't need to ask dear. Are you sure you won't stay for dinner? You've a long journey ahead of you."
"Nah, I'm good thanks. Chips on the train back suits me fine." She threw the words behind her as she walked away from them and towards the door. Charles couldn't help but stare as she left the room and then bounded up the stairs the way she always had, two at a time, despite her height.
"No! Piss off!" He mouthed the words silently at his mother as she urged him to follow Molly up the stairs before she swatted him with a dish towel to move him out of the room and in the right direction.
—-
Ten minutes had passed as he waited silently at the bottom of the steps. He didn't want to intrude on her time with Sam, but waited for her to finish instead. He knew he'd soon hear the creaking footsteps at the top of the stair, from his place on the bottom step. They soon came, hesitating as she reached the bottom of the staircase, sitting at a safe distance from him and pulling her knees to her chest.
"This makes a change."
"Why?"
"It was me sitting on our steps waiting for you last time. Full sordid details of everythin' in my hand."
He almost wished for the numbing effect Sarah had mentioned to arrive at that point, the pain he could hear in her voice searing into his brain.
"Molly…. I need to talk to you about-.."
"-Don't." She reached for her empty ring finger wordlessly for a moment, the motion not escaping either of them. "I don't wanna hear it anymore now than I did back then."
The prospect of the same flashback as usual loomed in front of him until he remembered Sarah's words. He had to face this head on and accept his mistakes. "What don't you want to hear?"
"Excuses. Lies. Whatever you're gonna say to make yourself feel better."
"Trust me, there's nothing I can say to do that."
She sighed for a second, a brief moment of disbelief that it had come to this point between them before she quickly swept a lone tear from her cheek. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"
"No. God, no. I don't want to argue Molly. Maybe one day you could bring yourself to talk to me about it. It's your decision." He took a deep breath, pulling the hair on the back of his neck for a second before he composed himself. "You should know that I'm so sorry though. For everything I've put you through. I'm getting help, working on being better. I only wish I'd done it earlier."
She didn't answer and he continued, just enjoying the gift of time to speak with her and trying to steer matters to more neutral conversation for a second.
"Where are you headed?"
Her glance in his direction was no more positive, but she answered him regardless. "Sudan. 16 weeks or so, they reckon."
"Be careful." His words were no more than a whisper. "Maybe we could have a coffee when you're back?"
She finally took the invitation as her cue to stand, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think so. I ain't here to be your mate. I shouldn't have come, I just wanted to catch up with Sammie, give him a cuddle and his Christmas present before I left."
"You've stayed in touch with Sam then?" He wasn't surprised. He'd long suspected they were still in some form of contact but hadn't wanted to scare her off by interfering.
"Yeah. Not his fault you did what you did, is it?"
Charles nodded slowly, the pain resounding in his chest "You know you can see him any time you want. He loves you Molly. He truly loves you." He bowed his head to hide the water that flooded his eyes. The silent words surfaced in his brain but went unspoken.
So do I.
"I love him too. Even if he's sometimes a little shit who prefers talkin' to a screen." The words were enough to raise his glance from the floor. Their shared grin ended after a few seconds, discomfort soon taking over as they stood awkwardly in the hallway, both remembering the first time they'd stood in the same place together."
"Did you know he has a girlfriend?" His voice lowered conspiratorially as he gestured his head upstairs to where Sam remained.
"Shut the fuck up!" He knew that the grin that crossed her face would be enough for him to die happy that he'd made her smile just one more time. "He still takes his secret teddy to bed, he aint got a girl on the go!"
"He bloody does. Rebecca found the snapchat messages on his phone. She's still trying to dig around to snoop. He's under covert surveillance." He let out a brief chuckle, despite himself. "God help the boy."
"Chip off the old block, eh?" It was meant as a joke but Charles' cheeks flushed bright red, and the awkwardness was now restored. She caught herself as she hovered at the front door. "Right. I'm definitely off this time."
"Goodbye Molly." There was nothing left to say but the obvious, and he tried to remember the exercises he'd been given to stay calm, despite the rising worry that this could be the last time he ever set eyes on her. "Stay safe."
She didn't answer as she passed him on her way to the door, but the small smile she offered was enough to provide the briefest comfort.
"I will."
She pulled her woollen hat on and made her way out to the snow dusted street, walking away from him. He didn't stop her, knowing he no longer could. As he watched her leave, she pulled her phone from her back pocket, typing a brief message before she hesitated and carried on walking without looking back.
—-
"Dad?"
"Yes Sam." He'd remained stuck at the front door, still watching the street long after she'd left, his left hand rubbing the scruff now appearing on his chin.
Sam reached the bottom of the stairs with a confused expression. "Molly texted and asked me to come down and give you a message?" He looked as mystified as Charles did, having long learned not to become involved in whatever was going on between the two of them.
"What did it say?"
Sam peered at his phone in confusion. "She says no coffee, but a tea might be ok?"
"Daaaaad! Don't!" He protested as he found himself grabbed into a bear hug by his dad, his hair ruffled from the style he'd carefully perfected in the mirror.
"God." Sam pulled himself away as he fixed his ruined hair in the mirror before hearing back to his room and leaving Charles to his thoughts. "Grown ups are so weird."
—-
AN. Thanks so much to those who have been asking for an update to Here Comes the Sun. I'm definitely trying, but currently finding it a bit difficult to square off the Captain James who has been in my head for the last few years with the one currently on screen. The beauty of FF is that it lets us play around with the original characters in the way we'd like to see them go, and this was really just an excuse for me to try to find my way back to where CJ's head could be (so thank you to anyone who takes the time to read my rambles). As ever, thanks also to itsembarassing for her encouragement and helping with the horrible doubts that can plague us all when putting ourselves out there.