Painting Bones in the Sky
"Art is the triumph over chaos" John Cheever
Molly was sat alone perched on the edge of the stage with an open sketchpad in her lap, her bare leg swung back and forth in front of her as her sandaled foot kicked random patterns in the dry Afghan dust. Her mind remained entirely focused on the lines and strokes of her pencil as she tried to capture the first few minutes of dawn at the FOB. She'd lost count of the times her skilled fingers had traced the outlines of the now familiar mountain range in front of her as she tried day after day, to capture the pinkish hue of the hazy sun as it chased its way across the sky, bleeding from a deep red, through to purple, blue and finally to an inky indigo as the last traces of the night recede slowly below the horizon.
It was one of the things that drew her to art in the first place. Despite it being one of the only things she was ever good at in school, Molly was drawn to the freedom it gave her. There were no rules, no limitations to what she could create or the moments and memories she could capture on the page. Art became her only escape from reality; be it the horrifying world of war or the dysfunctional chaos of her home life in Newham. Through her art Molly was able to regain a calmness and a stillness in her nut that helped her cope with the emotional turmoil her daily life had become. Every picture she drew told a story, whether it be the Afghan landscape at dusk, the smiling faces of Afghan children as they huddled in the dirt playing Sang Chill Bazi, or the wistful expressions of Two Section as they each take a quiet solitary moment to read their letters from home. Each line and curve added meaning in the same way a writer does when they carefully choose a particular word or phrase to evoke an emotion in the reader.
Molly was so absorbed in her activity that she failed to notice the lone figure creep silently around the perimeter of the stage towards her. It wasn't until a shadow fell across the page and a hand reached out to steel one of her pencils that she looked up with a furious "Oi!" Emerald eyes ablaze with anger, clashed with the warm laughing gaze of Captain James who stood with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Oh sorry Boss, I thought you was Sahail," Molly muttered in chagrin as she watched Captain James settle himself next to her and pull a clean sheet of paper towards him. "What you mean you wouldn't share your art supplies with Sahail?" Captain James asked as he raised an indignant eyebrow in her direction, a look of disbelief on his face.
"No way! I ain't letting him dip his brush in me paint pallet." Captain James bit back a laugh as he shook his head at her appalled response. "I take it that's not meant to be a euphemism Dawes?"
"If I knew what one of them was Sir I'd let you know." Captain James gave a light chuckle as he reached out and ran his finger along the spine of her sketchpad before tilting his head slightly in a silent question. Molly rolled her pencil back and forth between her fingers nervously as she gave a slight nod, pushing the book towards him. "I didn't know you drew Dawes," Captain James spoke quietly as he leafed through her sketchbook, his touch feather light along the pages as if he feared they would break under his fingertips. Molly shrugged lightly growing uncomfortable with the sudden change in topic. "I s'pose it's me way of keeping a record of everything that happens around me, the things I see and people I meet like. It's a bit like a diary only with no pictures. I find it easier to show my feelings an' emotions through a drawin' than I do with words. I ain't so good at using them to express how I feel see."
"So if you're using your sketchbook to capture memories of the places and people you meet, does that mean I'm in here?" James asked cheekily as Molly reached out and snatched the book from his grasp giving his leg a gentle nudge.
"Why you offering to pose for me Boss?" Molly shot back with a smirk, not missing a beat. Captain James snorted, "If you're lucky Dawes."
"Aww. An here I was thinkin' you was gunna let me pull a Jack Dawson on you Boss. Have you all stretched out on the bonnet of your jeep as you posed with your precious headset and coffee mug."
"Don't push your luck Dawesy. You know I'm not a fully functioning soldier until I've had my first shot of coffee in the morning." James muttered as a hint of a blush coloured his already tanned cheeks. Now it was Molly's turn to roll her eyes as she muttered, "Yeah yeah Boss, whatever you say." The two lapsed into a comfortable silence as Molly's attention returned to her sketch pad. Hearing a light scratching noise beside her, Molly looked up to find the Bossman sketching something on the piece of paper he'd stolen earlier. "Oi! What ya doin'?"
"Returning the favour. The light is quite good where you're sat, no wonder you like this spot so much. Does this rank higher or lower than your hiding place on top the shitter I wonder?" Molly's mouth dropped slightly. She though nobody knew about her secret spot. Looks like she might gunna need to find a new one. Heaven forbid the lads find her. She'd never get a moments peace with them asking for after sun and pop tarts all the time.
"Don't worry Dawes, your secret is safe with me."
"Cheers Boss!"
"So are you going to show me my portrait or what Dawes?" Molly eyed him sceptically, her hand coming to rest protectively on her sketch pad, her fingers twiddling her pencil back and forth as she pondered his request. She didn't show her work to a lot of people, preferring to keep it private. The question is, could the Bossman be trusted with the most important part of herself? Sensing her hesitation, Captain James gave her a gently nudge as he placed a reassuring hand on top of hers. "I'll tell you what, if you show me your drawing I'll show you mine and I promise I'll adore you for always."
"Always Boss?" Molly risks a look at him, sensing a sudden shift in the atmosphere between them. The Bossman gently touches her hand and entwines his fingers around hers, both their eyes drawn to their clasped fingers as he caresses each of her fingers in turn. Both were aware that something had shifted in their relationship; that the two of them were dancing perilously close to a red line they knew they shouldn't cross. Molly looked up and her breath caught. The early morning sun dipped behind a cloud casting his face in shadow. His day old stubble only enhancing his chiselled features and the strong line of his jaw and Molly was struck by a sudden stab of envy at how perfect and put together he looked so early in the morning. He truly was a handsome man; an artist's dream muse.
The moment was broken as an urgent shout from Captain Azizi infiltrated their little bubble and their connection was lost. Captain James drops Molly's hand and jumps to his feet desperate to put some distance between them. They share one last fleeting look before he turns striding hurriedly towards the communications tent where Azizi is stood waiting. Watching them as they conversed in low voices, their heads bent close together Molly's stomach twisted with dread. The joking, playful Bossman was gone and the authoritative, no nonsense Captain was back. He looked unusually ruffled, clearly worried and on edge about something as he yelled for Kinders. Something didn't feel right. The Boss turned and regarded Molly gravely. "I'm gunna need a medic."
"What's happened Boss?" Molly watches in concern as they start gathering things together. The air became suddenly thick with tension and anticipation; a feeling that set Molly's teeth on edge. "There may well have been an incident up at the mountain pass," The Boss called out before turning to call once more for Kinders who gave a slight nod and yelled for two section to double in and dress in full kit. Sensing the sudden urgency in everyone's frantic movements, Molly dashed after Kinders to get kitted out knowing full well her peaceful morning had just done down the shitter.
Later that evening, Molly lay in her pit staring unblinkingly up at the roof of the tent. The oppressive heat and the unsettling events of the day left Molly unable to sleep. Every time she shut her eyes the horrifying images of the lifeless bodies of the ANA's played over and over on the inside of her closed eyelids like a bad horror film she couldn't turn off. Overcome with a sudden feeling of being trapped, Molly blew out a frustrated breath as she sat up, fighting her way out of her sleeping bag that had become tangled around her flailing limbs. Pulling on her trainers and grabbing her latest care package and her riffle, Molly slipped through the gap in the tent flap and made her way through the eerily quiet camp. She passed the darkened med tent, skirted her way past the Bossman's tent, pausing momentarily when she saw a shaft of light through the window, before continuing on until she reached the roof of the shitter. Being careful to balance her package and her rifle under her arm she climbed the roof, exhaling a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding as she paused to take in the stars above her.
Sitting cross-legged, Molly unwrapped her package. Putting the letters to one side, Molly peered curiously into the bottom of the box and pulls out a bundle tied together with string. Carefully pulling the ends apart Molly found several thick sticks of new charcoal and some chalk pastels; her favourite materials to work with. As she runs her fingers along the rough, uneven edges of the charcoal thoughtfully, her eyes focus on the wide empty white space under her feet. The large blank white canvas under her feet. As she begins to feel the familiar itch in her fingers Molly dropped to her knees and ran the thick stick of chalk along the floor in big broad strokes.
Once she started she found she couldn't stop. Using wide, sure arm movements, Molly sketched the stark mountains of the check point overshadowed by a raging ball of angry fire. She drew rows of figures as they lay sprawled across the barren landscape, swimming in a sea of green khaki and blood. Gathering momentum now, Molly drew faster and faster, unable to stop, as she took the pictures from her head and transported them onto the floor beneath her. Molly drew death and carnage as she outlined the lifeless face of Rolex boy, his limp wrist dripping with blood and swarming with maggots and flies, his fake Rolex watch glittering mockingly every time it caught the light of the sun. She drew the debris of the obliterated bunker that was destroyed in a cloud of fire and smoke followed by explosions and a shower of bullets, ending in the inevitable rows of body bags lined along the roadside. Molly outlined the cold lifeless faces of the insurgents; the contorted faces of the injured, their expressions etched with pain and suffering with their limbs burnt and mangled or in some cases missing altogether.
Slowly but surely the stark white floor soon became filled with Molly's memories and experiences from the tour so far as she worked her way across the roof top letting all her anger and frustration pour though her fingertips onto the concrete. At some point she became aware of movement behind her but she barely registered the lads when they picked up her dis-guarded stubs of pastels to add their own contributions to the drawings. Not long after Molly became aware that Captain James had also arrived, but he stands to the side watching and waiting, saying nothing as he observes her as she works. As Molly finished shading the contours of Bashira's terrified face, her eyes wide and shining with fear and unshed tears, Molly recalls her broken voice asking if she was going to die. A sudden gentle voice broke into her revere, hesitant and unsure, as if trying to calm a skittish deer. "Dawes?" Molly knew that voice anywhere but ignored it as she used her fingers to blur the edges of the explosion caused by Bashira's bomb vest. "Dawes enough! You can stop now." This time the stern tone was accompanied by a firm grip on Molly's wrist halting her movements. Molly looked around dazed and for the first time registers that the entirety of Two Section are peering over the edge of the roof watching her with concern. Looking down Molly was surprised to find her hands clenched into fists, and her limbs shaking slightly. As she clenches her fists the last stubs of charcoal and pastels crumble to dust under the pressure and scatter in the breeze as they slip through her fingers.
"I couldn't sleep," she stutters as she finally let her gaze rest on the Boss as he crouches next to her. His body is shrouded almost completely in shadow. As she watches him, Molly feels suddenly uneasy in his presence. Up here in the dark, with only the light of the moon, she is unable to read him and she wonders, not for the first time, what he must be thinking as he looks at her. His face is shadowed, the moonlight casting just enough light to catch the edge of his cheekbones, the tip of his nose and the crease between his eyebrows that seemed to be a permanent fixture as of late. "I didn't mean for this to happen Boss. I only came up here to read me letter. One minute I was lookin at the stars an' the next minute I had the charcoal in me hand and I couldn't seem to stop meself."
"It's ok Dawes. We're going to get you down alright." Giving a tired nod she gives a start as she feels herself being swept up into his arms as he carries her to the edge of the roof where Kinders is stood waiting. Issuing a set of whispered instructions to Smurf and Fingers, The Bossman gently hands her into the arms of Kinders as he clambers down from the roof and leads the way towards the med tent. Molly doesn't say a word as Kinders gently deposits her on her cot whilst the Boss closes the tent flap to give them some privacy. Molly sits unmoving on her cot her gaze glued to her fingers as she listens to the two men move around her. She rubs the tips together gently to try and remove the red chalky residue that stains her fingers like blood. She rubs her hands together faster and sucks in a breath when the stain remains. "It won't come off," she mumbles so softly that Kinders and the Boss move in closer hearing the frantic edge to her voice. "Molls?" Kinders asks as he watches her wring her hands together in agitation. "It won't come off!" Molly was beginning to panic now, her voice rising as her frantic eyes sought out those of her Boss. "Bossman it won't come off. Get it off. Please! Get it off!"
Captain James moved forward to clasp both of Molly's hands in one of his own as he reaches out for the bowl of warm water Kinders handed him. Gently, he begins to wash the dust from her hands and arms until the water runs a dark red. "It's ok Dawes it's just chalk. You're fine. Safe. Just breathe. That's it in and out, nice and slow. Keep your eyes on Kinders alright." After a few minutes of steady breathing Molly could feel her body start to return to normal as she felt the adrenalin leave her system. "Do you ever wish you had a Tardis?" Molly asked softly. The two soldiers eyed each other, unsure of who she was addressing. "Wouldn't it be easier if we could just go back and sort the whole mess out? They were just kids Boss! They shot my mate Rolex boy point blank. It ain't fair!" She cried, her frustration evident in her tone.
"I know you're upset Dawes."
"I ain't upset Boss. I'm pissed off! I ain't soft you know," she resorts with a huff, the air leaving her like a deflated balloon. The Boss cracks a small smile, glad to see the old Dawes was still in there somewhere.
"I know its hard Dawes but there was nothing you could have done. You have to try and not think too much. Stay focused on the job your bloody good at and you'll be fine. You're doing an amazing job." Molly sighs as she leans her head back against the pillow enjoying gentle way the Boss patted her arms and hands dry. "I'm tired Boss. Ain't you tired?" As her eyes flutter shut, the Boss carefully manoeuvres Molly's body so she was lying flat on her back, ignoring her soft mumble of protest. "Just Sleep Dawes. Everything will be alright in the morning. I promise," he whispered as he unlaced her trainers and pulled them carefully off her feet. As he takes a step back Kinders gently lays a blanked over her shoulders.
"You reckon she'll be alright Boss?" Kingers asks quietly as he watches Molly with concern. Seeing Molly come undone had clearly rattled him.
"She'll be fine Kinders don't worry. Dawes is strong. Everyone is entitled to have a funny five minutes every now and then so long as they aren't carrying a loaded weapon. Dawes' way of dealing with what she's seen is actually not a bad way to go about it. Nobody was hurt. As long as we stick together and look out for each other we'll all be fine and home by Christmas. I'll be sure to debrief Major Beck though. We wouldn't want him thinking we've got Banksey hiding in our midst would we." With that he stands and stretches his arms above his head before bringing hims hand down to rub the back of his neck as he tries to unwind the knot that had formed there in the last twenty four hours.
"We ok to leave her?" Kinders asks as he moves to the exit.
"Yeah but I'll stay for a bit until she settles then I'll hit my pit. I doubt I'll be able to sleep right now anyway. I can just as easily finish some paperwork here."
"We don't mind taking it in turns Boss," came the quiet voice of Dangles from the doorway where he was flanked by the rest of two section. "Yeah Boss. Dawesy is always looking after us, the least we can do is return the favour and be there when she needs us," Mansfield added. The Boss eyed Kinders who gave a shrug when he raised his eyebrow slightly in question. With a nod of approval he gestured to the door. "Alright lads. I'll stay for a bit then I think I'll leave you to it. I'm sure that now she's asleep Dawes will be fine." The lads nod and quietly file out. As the Boss turned around to settle himself in the chair next to Molly's bed he gives a start when a quiet, yet sarcastic voice quips, "They're a right bunch on knights in shining khaki ain't they Boss."
"Were you awake the whole time Dawes?" Captain James asked incredulously as he leans back in his chair his long legs stretched out in front of him. He couldn't help but grin as he sees the familiar spark of mischief return to her eyes. "I weren't asleep. Just resting me eyes."
"You alight Dawes? Do you need to speak to someone?" He asked quietly as his gaze turns serious once more as he takes in the dark circles under her eyes and the look of utter exhaustion on her face.
"I'm talking to you ain't I?! As the boss raises an eyebrow in challenge she continues. "I'll be fine Boss don't worry. I am sorry about earlier though," she mutters quietly as her eyes drop to her hands.
"It's fine Dawes. You had us all worried that's all. Despite what you might think the boys care about you."
"I know that Boss. I do. It just takes a bit of getting used to that's all. I ain't used to people caring about me I guess. It's nice though. Don't tell them I said that though. Their egos are big enough as it is." She joked quietly as she tried to fight a yawn, without success.
"Dawes?" The Boss whispered quietly drawing her attention back to him.
"Boss?" she asked sleepily, her eyes already fluttering shut.
"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep," he whispered back fondly.
"Yes Boss. Night Boss." With that she gives a weak salute and is asleep before her arm hits the mattress under the watchful eye of the Bossman.
A/N: this one shot takes place after the events at the beginning of episode three. It was inspired by a scene id read from a book called just one damn thing after another by Jodi Taylor. I highly recommend it. There's history, time travel, humour and tea. What's not to like?