Hi Guys! Okay so first of all to my CPD readers- I'm so sorry! I will finish the stories I have in progress I promise, I just didn't have any motivation.. Then I watched this amazing show the other day and wow! I fell in love with it! If you haven't seen this amazing show I would totally recommend finding somewhere to watch it online!

This is just a little something I've had floating around in my head for a little while since I started to watch the show. I know this is short but I wanted to post it and see what kind of response I got, so let me know what you think and if you think I should continue! Thanks for reading!

Charles rolled over, blinking sleepily as his arms stretched out in to the empty space beside him where Molly Dawes should've been. His fingers tightened around the cold and empty bed sheets as he forced his eyes to focus on the red flashing numbers of the alarm clock that stood beside his bed. 3.21am. Sighing quietly, he ran his hands though his hair as he climbed out of bed, the cold air making him shiver slightly.

He knew exactly where she was. It had almost become a part of their routine in the two weeks Molly had been back from her latest tour. They'd go to bed together and he'd fall asleep with her in his arms- then he'd wake a few hours later to find the bed beside him empty. He quietly made his way down the stairs, towards the slither of light he could see coming from the kitchen door.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs he silently pushed the kitchen door open a fraction, peering around. She was there, just as he thought she would be- sat at the kitchen table wearing one of his old jumpers which practically drowned her, that dark hair that he loved so much scraped back away from her face as she leant over the table, head in her hands and stared down in to a glass of water as though it was going to give her all the answers she could ever need from life.

"Molly?" He whispered, pushing the door the rest of the way open.

She snapped around to face him, her eyes wide with fear. "Shit Charles." She muttered, shoving her hands in to her lap so he wouldn't see the way they were shaking.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He apologised, quickly stepping in to the kitchen and taking a seat next to her. "What are you doing down here at this time anyway Dawes?" He asked, putting an arm around her and pulling her towards him.

Molly sighed, resting her head against his chest and breathing in his scent that she'd missed so much during the six long months she'd been gone.

Charles sat quietly, his fingers gently rubbing against her lower back as he waited for her to confirm what he already knew.

There was a few long moments of silence before Molly spoke. "Just needed a glass of water." She muttered, stifling a yawn.

"Molly-" Charles started, knowing there was much more going on in her head than she was ever going to admit, but she cut up.

"Shut up Charles- I'm tired and I'm going to bed." She laughed, although it sounded forced to her own ears, something which didn't go unnoticed by her former captain.

He hesitated, opening his mouth to argue with her but then thought better of it. No one would ever win an argument with Molly Dawes, especially not while she was being so defensive- she'd talk when she was ready and not a moment before.

They made their way back up the stairs in silence, Molly avoiding making eye contact with him as they climbed back in to bed, Charles' arms winding around her waist and holding her close. Molly closed her eyes, pretending to sleep in an effort to stop him worrying about her. She smiled slightly, feeling him place a feather light kiss on her forehead, and relaxed slightly in his arms. She was exhausted, she wouldn't deny that, but every time she closed her eyes she was haunted by the images of what she'd seen during her tours- the images burned in to her brain for eternity. Everywhere she looked during the door she saw them, lying there on the floor reliant on her to save their lives, she saw Smurf fall down on the football pitch at West Ham and at night it was ten times worse, there was nothing she could do to stop the dreams. So instead, she'd lay there until she was convinced Charles was asleep, then she'd creep out of the bedroom and down the stairs, spending most of the night sat in the kitchen staring at the walls before creeping back up the stairs and in to his arms before he woke.

"Molly?" Charles hissed in to the darkness. Her eyes were closed but he was almost certain she was just pretending to sleep in an effort to avoid having to have a conversation with him. He waited for a few seconds but got no response, deciding not to push it in case she was actually asleep. She was exhausted, he could see it in her face. The dark circles that had been under her eyes when he'd picked her up from Brize Norton hadn't faded, if anything they'd gotten bigger, she crease in between her eyebrows seemed permanent now from the frown she'd worn almost constantly since she'd stepped off that plane. It wasn't unusual for soldiers to struggle to deal with some of the things they'd seen on the front line, hell he knew that from personal experience. He just didn't want Molly to try and bottle it up, he didn't want to watch it eat away at her. Every time he'd tried to broach the subject with her she'd shut down instantly, either changing the subject or ignoring him entirely. He needed to be patient, if she trusted him enough eventually she'd tell him. He just wasn't sure how long he could be patient for.