A lowly blue-tinged light emitting from the lamp outside the hut softly filters through the shutters and reflects against the side of her face as she sits on the edge of her bed in near darkness; a rare moment alone with her thoughts.
She listens to the monsoon rainfall as it hammers down onto the corrugated steel sheeting of the roof. It is relentless. A stark contrast to the tears inside her that now refuse to fall. Perhaps she's cried them all already, she wonders. And now all that's left is emptiness, that familiar hollow feeling she has become accustomed to ever since he lay lifeless in her arms that fateful day in Kabul.
Elvis. Bones. Today it had been Maya whom she hadn't been able to save. She knows that she tried her best, the internal bleeding meant that Maya didn't ever stand a chance in the circumstances, but she still wonders if she is actually doing any good anymore. Was it her fault that Maya was beaten so badly in the first place? All she had wanted was to make a difference, throwing herself into her work once again. But she's not sure what any of it really means now. It's like nothing makes any sense anymore. She wonders if it ever will again.
The door to the hut opens and someone comes in. She can tell it is him just by the sound of his footsteps, his boots clicking against the tiled floor as he walks towards her, stopping just before he reaches her bed.
It's as though something flickers inside her and her stomach does a tiny somersault. It's this feeling that she tells herself she needs to surpress every time she's near him. She doesn't understand it, how she can be feeling this way. She loved Elvis, not Charlie.
He isn't even supposed to be here. By now he should have sorted out his medical discharge and she wouldn't even have to think about him. But Bones had to go and get himself blown up and so here he was, again. By coming back he'd broken his end of the bargain. Somewhere deep down, she knows why he's really here and it scares her, it scares her because she thinks that she feels the same way.
"Lane?" He says softly.
She has goosebumps now.
She turns her head slightly towards him briefly, acknowledging his presence but she doesn't look at him. She can't look at him.
He knows how she must be feeling. It pains him to see her sat there alone, in the dark, visibly upset.
"You did everything you could for her Lane." He says reassuringly.
She gives a small nod, of course he would say that.
"It wasn't enough." Her voice falters ever so slightly in her reply to him.
He knew she would do this, beat herself up about it though it wasn't her fault. He wants nothing more than to comfort her. He lets himself imagine for a moment what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, to breath in the scent of her hair, to feel the softness of her lips against his...
It wasn't like this with Molly. They "waited out". But he just can't help how he feels whenever he's around her, it's like she's a magnet that he's forcibly drawn to. He's told her how he feels in no uncertain terms but she doesn't seem to be reciprocating; all those unanswered texts he had sent in the 6 months since his accident in Belize. He still has her transfer request on his desk and he's promised her that if she thinks he's put a foot out of line on this tour that he would forward it on. He really doesn't want it to come to that.
She waits, silently willing him to come closer to her. To be held again, to feel the warmth of his strong body against her own, to be loved and to love again. If she is honest with herself she aches for him.
He can't risk losing her, he thinks, at least this way she can still be near him. And so, fighting the overwhelming urge to act on his desires he does what he thinks is best and attempts to bury his feelings, again. If anything were to ever happen between them, it needs to be on her terms.
"Why don't you get some rest ok?" He says, waiting for a brief moment, looking for some sort of sign or indication that it might just be ok to come over and give her a hug. He would be by her side in a heartbeat. But there is nothing. He turns and walks away, hesitating for a second before opening the door just Incase she has changed her mind. Still nothing. He opens the door and leaves.
As the door to the hut clicks shut she closes her eyes and sighs. Why can't he just...? She doesn't know. She doesn't know what she wants him to do. She doesn't know what to do herself. They are on tour. There is Elvis, there is Molly...
She lies down, her head in her hands. Why does it have to be so complicated?