Chapter 1 : The Night Before Christmas

Private Molly Dawes glanced around the drawing room, taking it all in. Despite its size, it was warm and welcoming. Three sofas took centre stage, whilst an open fire at one end provided the warmth; its mantelpiece adorned with informal family photographs. In one corner was a grand piano surrounded by floor to ceiling bookcases again teeming with pictures. A majestic Christmas tree stood proudly in the space between two sash windows. It was decked in layers of brightly coloured baubles, garlands and twinkling lights. Beautifully wrapped presents were stacked carefully beneath it. Sweet-smelling evergreen garlands hung from the windowsills and Christmas cards were strung from the walls. Molly's thoughts returned to the brief conversation they'd had in Captain James' quarters in Bastion that fateful day in April when it had all turned to shit. Charles was right; this house was magical at Christmas. Molly chose to ignore the comfy sofas and walked towards the fire...

Watching silently, Charles James stood leaning against the door frame. Drinking in the view, he couldn't believe his luck. The two people he loved most in the world were with him under the same roof. His son was sound asleep upstairs; Rebecca his ex-wife having agreed to let Sam stay for Christmas. And, after several weeks apart, Private Dawes - HIS Molly, HIS girl, was merely a few feet from him. She sat, legs tucked up in front of her, by the open fire; her chin resting on her folded arms, oblivious to his presence. She seemed deep in thought and he hadn't wanted to disturb her. Besides, he was rather enjoying the view: the soft, smooth contours of her body outlined through her jeans and t-shirt by the warm glow of the fire; her long brown hair cascading in waves down her back; her beautiful face lit up by the flickering flames. On a side table, the red wine, he'd poured earlier, was hardly touched. Every so often, Molly leaned forward and stoked the fire. Each time, it roared into life, crackling and hissing.

Eventually, Charles coughed quietly and Molly turned in his direction; a warm smile spreading across her face as she met his gaze. His heart missed a beat as he returned her grin. He strolled into the room, bending to plant a kiss on the top of her head before dropping down onto the rug beside her.

"So Sam's asleep then?" she queried.

"Yep, finally. I'm not sure if it's the prospect of having you here for Christmas or what he's hoping to find under the tree that's making him so excited," Charles mused. Taking a lock of Molly's hair in his fingers, he twisted it absentmindedly.

"He's a great kid. It's gonna be lovely spending some quality time with him," Molly whispered, reaching out to stoke the fire once more, breaking his hold.

Moving forward, Charles removed the fire iron from her hand and placed it on the hearth. Gently, he pushed her backwards onto the rug and knelt over her, brushing her lips with his. "I've been wanting to do this all evening," he murmured, as her lips parted beneath his.

"How long until your parents get home?" Molly giggled suggestively. Charles lifted his head to study her, cupping her face in one hand and caressing her mouth with his thumb. He was looking at her with such longing that she flushed deeply.

"Hours and hours," he grinned, before bending to kiss her again...

A while later, they lay nestled together, sated in front of the dying fire. Their clothes long abandoned in a heap nearby. Despite the fact that his parents might return any moment, both Molly and Charles were reluctant to move. Charles idly stroked her shoulder whilst Molly's fingers trailed across his torso momentarily pausing to trace the scar on his stomach. Her delicate touch caused him to flinch slightly. He caught her fingers in his own and brought them to his mouth kissing them one by one. Molly sighed contentedly. Safe in Charles' arms, Molly couldn't believe her luck either - HER Charles, HER Captain, was right - Lady Luck was smiling on them this Christmas Eve.