"Are you regretting us … me?

You know, there were times when I used to get worried that anyone who was anywhere nearby was going to be able to see just how difficult it was, how the hell did she think I felt? Do I sound as though I got annoyed with her for asking that question? Well, I did a bit at the time, of course I did, it didn't seem to occur to her at all that she had the power to drive me nuts. I remember how I used to be whenever we were in the same space, how I would be completely aware of her and how she would come bouncing up to me with this huge smile on her face so that anyone who'd been looking at us would have been able to read her body language in an instant even if they couldn't hear what she was saying. She was gorgeous, for all I know she probably still is, what am I talking about, of course she still is, but she's not mine any more. I used to want to scoop her up every time I saw her, especially when she was laughing and joking with bloody Smurf even though I knew, because she told me over and over, that there was nothing going on between them, and I believed her, because, let's face it, I wanted to believe her, but that didn't stop me hating every single minute of it.

He always seemed to be hanging around her so that where she went he invariably followed and I saw the way he looked at her, the way his eyes used to follow her about everywhere and the way his jokes, his banter was packed full of that cocky "god's gift to the girls" innuendo when he talked to her, and I saw the way she dismissed it, dismissed him, as a complete irrelevance, but that didn't make it any easier. We were all devastated when he died, of course we were, Molly included and it was probably far worse for her than for anyone else because she was with him when it happened and there is a big hole in the platoon which still has his name on it, almost as big as the one where Molly used to be.

If we had met anywhere else other than the shit hole that was Afghan, I'm not counting Brize, that was me being an arse that day for some reason, and under any other circumstances at all then I doubt we'd have had any sort of relationship. She would just have been an irritating teenage girl that I'd met somewhere. Pretty? Yes, very, but light years too young for me to even notice so I would never have known anything more about her other than possibly how attractive she is, well, there's no possibly about it, I would have noticed, and sexy? Definitely, but that would have been all. So her question that day about whether or not we were a mistake would never have happened.

I never meant to fall in love with her. I would have laughed and told you that you were fucking insane if you'd suggested anything like that when I first set eyes on her on the tarmac at Brize or when we first arrived at Bastion, but it just crept up on me so that I couldn't even tell you exactly when it started. I don't think it was a result of her exploits in that bloody minefield, fucking awesome as they were or when she stood there holding that kid's hand just a few feet from being red-misted by a suicide bomb and then refused to obey my order to leave until Bashira was safe, they all filled me with this mixture of relief that she was still in one piece mixed with a longing to shake her until her teeth rattled, but was that love? I don't know. I don't even know whether it was the way my stomach lurched with a message to my groin when she stood there in my cabin wearing that bloody West Ham top and grinning at me the way she did, or when she sang with me, all shiny hair and toothy grin, all I do know is that the day she went off on R&R with bloody Smurf was the day I realised just how much trouble I was in.

I spent the whole time she was away getting myself back under control and it was easy to dismiss all the gossip and innuendo from the lads as just that, idle gossip with no real basis in fact, and then it all went out of the fucking window the minute she got back and I found out that she'd been in Newport with the Welsh idiot. The bitter jealousy I felt that day was one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with, well, I thought that that was true until we came on this tour. I was convinced I was getting over it, getting over her and moving on, well, that was until we got out here and the lads kept on talking about her. They kept telling our new medic all about her, about how much they loved her, how they still do love her, so how the fuck am I supposed to forget and get on with my life when they keep on bringing her name into the conversation, reminding me ….. I want to scream at them to "Shut the fuck up" but I can't do that, can I?

Our new medic seems okay, Corporal Lane, Georgia, she's a very pleasant girl, the lads seem to like her a lot and she's efficient, looks like she knows what she's doing, is good at her job, she's also good looking and at least she follows my orders, doesn't just ignore the one's she doesn't like or answer me back with a cheeky grin on her face, but she's not Molly.

Molly asked me whether I had regrets, and the answer is yes, of course. My life would have been a hell of a lot easier if Molly Dawes had been just another teenage squaddie like all the other teenage squaddies I'd known over the years, but she wasn't and she isn't and I would give anything right now to be given another chance to work things out with her, to put things right. I would love to be able to wipe away all that fucking nonsense that we both sat there and spouted about us being better off apart now that we were back in our real lives, about us moving on with our bloody careers and about the huge gap in our ages and all the rest of that crap, because I miss her.

But her question was did I regret her? And the answer to that is always going to be no, never.

Seeing the friends and families all waiting in Arrivals at Brize is always a great moment, especially when, like today, we've arrived back in one piece, with no-one missing. Watching how happy everyone looks when they're giving and getting the hugs and the kisses from their wives and their kids and their girlfriends or their proud parents has underlined for me exactly what I need to do now, and I'm going to do it just as soon as the audience has fucked off. Actually, on second thoughts, I'm not sure I can wait that long, I'm a bit worried that the number I have is still the right one, that it hasn't been changed for any reason.

"Hello"

"Hello Dawsey, missed me?"

-OG-

A/N: Okay so you were all right, cleaning is bl**dy over-rated! I was bored rigid after one day and not being one to ignore a challenge have just decided not to air the duvets, it's raining anyway, and to throw this little one shot together instead. Be nice, oh, and please try not to say 'told you so'