A/N Hello again. Thank you very much for your kind reviews for 'A Home Birth'. Here comes the rest. As I said before, there's no angst. Although I really enjoy reading it, so long as there's a happy ending, I just can't write it - because it would involve a plot and I can't think of any! I take my hat off to the brilliant writers on here who can and do. So if you want angst then this is not for you, but if you like lots of love and some humour then hopefully you may enjoy it - I hope some humour comes across in certain parts! I did try!

I'm rewinding to the beginning of Molly's pregnancy. It's not all finished, but I'm getting there, though it's not particularly lengthy. 'A Home Birth' has been slightly tweaked and will put in an appearance later along with Baby James obviously.

Sorry about the corny title, I had to get the word 'together' in there somewhere, given my other stories. Also it's become a bit of a game trying to get original dialogue in from the series - 'Sorry about that!' (See what I did there!) It does mean having to endure trawling through the episodes in the name of research from time to time and is of course nothing to do with lusting after a certain male fictional character.

All rights and apologies to the BBC and TG as usual.

In keeping with the series, there is some swearing.

By way of background, Molly and Charles have been happily married for two years. He is now a Major and she is a Lance Corporal.

Here is Chapter 1.

One Friday Early Evening - 17 February 2018

Major Charles James turned the key in the lock, pushed open the front door and made his way into the house. It was silent and in total darkness; there being no sign of his wife Lance Corporal Molly James anywhere. He'd been away on exercise for several weeks and had missed her like mad; their separations never getting any easier. Switching on the hall light, he called out her name but there was no answer. He wondered where she was, given that he'd phoned her earlier in the day to tell her what time he'd be home. Usually, if he'd been away awhile, as soon as she heard his car pull up outside, she'd go and greet him throwing herself into his arms and kissing him. He'd kiss her back until they were both breathless and dizzy. It was one of the many things he loved about her, nearly four years down the line, and yet she was still always so pleased to see him, still so affectionate. So very different to his ex-wife Rebecca.

Dropping his keys down onto the console table, he eased his kitbag from his shoulders and put it down on the wooden floor in the hallway. He sat down on the bottom stair, took off his regulation boots and put them in the coat cupboard, along with his jacket. A quick search of the downstairs for Molly proved futile, so he climbed the stairs two at a time and made his way along the landing to their bedroom. He opened the door to find the room dimly lit by a bedside lamp. Molly was curled up fast asleep on their bed; a hand resting on her stomach, her hair spilled out across the pillow. He lay down on the bed on his side, propped up on his elbow facing her, watching her sleeping. She looked so peaceful and he fought an internal battle as to whether he should wake her. Eventually though, he couldn't resist, leaning in and kissing her forehead gently, whilst his fingers caressed the side of her face. She stirred beside him, then opened her eyes slowly adjusting them to the light. He was smiling at her, his eyes full of love.

"Missed you Molly James," he whispered softly, leaning in again, this time to plant a light kiss on her lips.

"Ditto," she murmured, just about managing a faint smile in return. "So glad you're home."

He pulled her close and began to nuzzle at the sensitive spot on her neck. "Mmm me too," he murmured seductively.

She knew his game and pushed gently against his shoulder, 'it' being the last thing she wanted right now. "I'm sorry Charles, not in the mood," she whispered. He raised his head and looked at her. His expression one of confusion and disappointment, big puppy dog eyes downcast. She'd have laughed if she was feeling ok but right now she felt far from it. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, "What time is it?"

He glanced over at the alarm clock on his bedside table. "7.30," he said.

"Shit, sorry. I meant to make you some dinner. I only came up for a quick nap but I guess I've slept for a couple of hours." She explained, struggling to sit upright on the bed. He helped her, plumping the pillow up behind her back and tucking the duvet in around her.

"You ok ?" His voice full of concern, as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her pale face. She looked like she'd lost a little weight.

"Just been cream-crackered this week and moby dick," she yawned, noticing the confused expression on his face, then added, "Sorry sick."

Although slightly troubled, a half smile formed on his lips. She'd lived with him on the outskirts of Salisbury for nearly three years now, but she was still a cockney through and through and he loved her for it. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her right shoulder and arm as he kissed the top of her head. "Why didn't you say so on the phone? You got a bug or something?"

"I guess so," she murmured.

"Molls, have you eaten at all?"

She shook her head.

He tilted her chin upwards and cast his eyes over her face again. "Look you stay here and keep warm. I'll sort myself out. But maybe you should try and eat and drink something. Toast, tea maybe?" He said. She nodded gratefully at him and sunk back down on the bed. She was sound asleep again before he made it into the kitchen.

...

The Following Morning - 9am

Unusually for him, Charles slept in the following morning. When he finally awoke, he reached out for Molly only to find the space beside him empty. He got out of bed, running a hand through his thick curls and wandered across to the ensuite. He found Molly kneeling on the floor vomiting into the porcelain toilet, her hands clutching the bowl either side. Squatting down beside her, he pulled her long chestnut hair back out of the way and gently began to rub her back in a circular motion.

She lifted her head and turned to look at him. His eyes ran over her face. She looked worn out and beads of perspiration covered her forehead. He gently stroked her cheek in sympathy.

She stood up slowly, the room spinning around her, and moved across to the sink. She gripped the sink momentarily to steady herself, before splashing cold water on her face and washing her hands. She slumped back down on the floor again, arms folded on her knees, her head resting on her arms. He watched her, concern etched all over his face.

"You ok?"

She glanced at him sideways and gave him 'that look'.

Shit, stupid question.

"Sorry Molls, shouldn't have asked that, " he said ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. Standing up, he poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. She took small sips. He sat down, his back against the bath, and pulled her onto his lap, hugging her to him. She burrowed her head into his chest, comforted a little by his embrace.

"Molls has it occurred to you that you might be pregnant?" he murmured softly. She didn't answer. "Why don't you do a test?" he urged, as he smoothed her hair. She shook her head.

"There's no point, I can't be pregnant. We've hardly been at it like rabbits, far from it. What with you and me being like ships that pass in the night. Anyway..." She stopped abruptly feeling another fresh wave of nausea coming on. "Oh God..." she scrambled off his lap to the toilet bowl and threw up yet again.

"Fuck. I feel like shit."

He waited for her to compose herself, before pulling her into his arms again and resting his chin lightly on her head.

"Look Molls, you know as well as I do, that once is enough." He lifted her head to look at him, before adding, smiling hopefully, "though now that we're both back home together for a while we can make up for lost time if you like."

She shot him that look - again.

There was no way she could even entertain the idea the way she was feeling right now. Apart from the crippling nausea she woke up to every morning, she was completely and utterly exhausted. She'd been struggling into work every day, then crashing out early in the evening. She really didn't have an ounce of energy left and continued to glare at him.

Oops that was SO the wrong thing to say.

He squirmed uncomfortably. "Well, you can't blame a man for trying, " he said sheepishly. He stroked her face gently, smoothing her hair away from her eyes. "Molly, how long have you been throwing up for?"

"A week or so, I guess."

He sighed, "Then humour me, all you have to do is pee on a stick."

"Charles I'm not pregnant, it's just some stomach bug. There's one going around the garrison," she insisted, trying to convince herself.

He wasn't convinced - at all. Ever since he'd known her, she'd hardly ever been ill, rarely picking anything up. "Molly, is your period late?" He voiced what he'd been wondering outright. It was but she'd tried to push that thought to the back of her mind. She nodded, sighing slightly and dropped her gaze.

"How late? he persisted, struggling to recall when her last period was.

"Nearly three weeks," she supplied the information quietly.

"Molls, why haven't you done a test?"

"Well...I wasn't gonna do one without you. Besides..."

He interrupted her, an alarming thought crossing his mind in that moment that maybe she'd changed her mind. He needed to know, "Molly, don't you want a baby yet? I thought we'd agreed now is as good a time as any."

He recalled the conversation they'd had in bed, late one night. He'd been completely surprised and delighted when she'd asked him if he'd mind if she came off the pill and if they started trying for a baby. They'd been snuggled up to each other, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, her back against his chest. He hadn't been sure whether he'd heard her correctly and gently turned her round to face him. She'd repeated her request quietly and he'd smothered her with kisses, ecstatic that she'd finally voiced what he'd been so desperate to hear. Of course, they'd talked about it before, both agreeing that at some point in the future it was what they both wanted but neither mentioning a time scale. Molly had only just turned 24 and they'd only been married for two years. Whilst he hadn't wanted to wait out much longer, he understood if she did and he hadn't wanted to pressurise her.

The following morning, over breakfast, she'd gone into full military planning mode, talking about cycles, charts and optimum times of the month. She'd even gone so far as to make notes on the kitchen calendar as to when they should make themselves 'available' for 'Operation Baby James' as she'd code named it. He'd humoured her, nodding every now and again, until he'd tried to down a second cup of coffee. She'd taken it out of his hands and had promptly poured it down the sink, explaining in no uncertain terms that he needed to cut down on his caffeine intake if he was to ensure his 'missiles' were 'top-notch'. He'd pulled her into his arms, laughing, then telling her that there was nothing wrong with his 'missiles' but that now he was a Major he wasn't a fully functioning one until he'd had his second cup of coffee in the morning. She'd been about to launch into yet another one of her tirades when he'd reminded her gently that he'd been there, done that and got the T-shirt. She'd tried to protest but he'd silenced her, kissing her long and hard.

Since she'd stopped taking the pill, though, they'd had next to no time together both having been away on exercises one after the other - managing only one night of intimacy - the downside of being a military couple. She'd been disappointed; well to be fair, they both had.

His thoughts returned to the present and he lifted her chin so that he could look at her face, searching for clues as to exactly how she felt.

She smiled weakly at him. "Charles, I want a baby, our baby, more than anything," she sought to reassure him. "I'm just shit scared I guess. What if I can't cut it as a mum?"

He threw his head back and laughed out loud, much to her annoyance. He had a habit of laughing at her these days, whenever she doubted herself. When would she realise just how bloody brilliant she was? It only served to infuriate her though and she creased her eyebrows together in a hint of a frown and pouted, "Charles don't! I've been mulling this over since I started throwing up. It's been doing my nut in."

"Molly listen up! You'll make a wonderful mum. It's not as if you haven't had enough practice - what with your siblings and being Sam's stepmum. You're great with them and they all adore you. You must know that."

She smiled at the mention of Sam. She adored him too. They'd hit it off right from the very start, from the moment she'd met him all those years ago in the hospital when she'd joked about Charles and he'd laughed.

"Yeah, but having a baby's a whole different ball bag."

"You'll be brilliant." He squeezed her gently, kissed the tip of her nose and shifted her off his lap. He stood up, gingerly pulling her with him. Opening the bathroom cabinet, he reached inside for a test kit she'd bought a while back when she'd been in full 'planning mode.'

She stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. "Not now," she said.

'Why not?"

"I haven't seen you in weeks and I just want to spend the day with you, without having to think too much about...you know... stuff." She struggled a little over her words.

Although frustrated, he tried not to show it. After all, he couldn't complain - he'd told her before that she had a tendency to over-think things.

"When then?"

"Tonight."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He reluctantly closed the cabinet and followed her out of the ensuite.

...

As it happened, they didn't get to spend the whole day together. She took herself off to bed mid-afternoon, consumed by an irresistible urge to sleep, and he spent some time in the garden - cutting back and tidying up. It wasn't until 6.30pm when she reappeared downstairs, having relaxed in a warm bath after waking. He was in the kitchen preparing dinner and she stood in the doorway watching, clad in her pyjamas and dressing gown.

"Hey," she said.

He glanced over in her direction, returning her greeting, "Hey yourself." He clocked her appearance, "So I take it the cinema is out then?"

She'd forgotten they'd provisionally agreed to go out subject to how she was feeling and began to apologise profusely. He stopped her, kissing her gently, then insisting, "It doesn't matter Molls."

Ten minutes later, they sat together on the sofa eating and watching a film on Netflix. Although, he'd cooked her favourite pasta dish, when it came to it she couldn't face it, opting for toast instead. It seemed to be the only thing she could keep down. She apologised yet again. When they both finished eating, he pulled her into his arms so that her back was against his chest with his legs either side of her. They both stretched their legs out. He slipped a hand underneath her pyjamas and stroked her stomach - wondering, hoping. They continued to watch the film in silence - well apart from the odd sniffle from Molly. Eventually, the credits came up and he turned her around to face him. Big fat tears were streaming down her cheeks and he did his best to rub them away. He cradled her head in his hands and kissed the tip of her nose.

"You are so pregnant Dawesy," he grinned broadly at her.

"Says who? I ain't done a test yet," she sniffed, breaking free from his hold. Retrieving yet another tissue from her pocket, she wiped her face.

"Molls you sat through most of that film sniffling and now look at you. Hard as nails Molly Dawes? I think not! - You're completely emotional. It wasn't even a real weepy!"

She was indignant, "I did not! And it's Molly James to you remember!"

He smiled again, his eyes softening at the sound of his surname coming from her lips, her surname, the surname her baby, their baby would have.

"Molls you did too. Like it or not you're pregnant. Face facts! You're hormonal, your period's late, you keep throwing up and you're tired all the time." He paused to see if what he said was registering, then continued. "A tenner says you're knocked up." He was desperate for her to do the test, not wanting to wait out any longer and he knew she wouldn't resist a bet.

"Ok you're on. A tenner says I'm not. Prepare to part with your cash Bossman."