Lying in her pit in the semi-darkness of Bastion, Molly tries to find good memories to fall asleep with. It always comes back to Charles, as though the 20 years before their meeting, do not count for anything. Though their time was brief, it was all new for her, exciting and full of promise. She was overwhelmed by his attempts to reveal as much of himself as possible before their next separation, allowing her to get to know the civic, warm, homey Charles, instead of the stern, responsible, protective captain. It's too late to re-read his letter, she doesn't want to disturb the others by turning on the light. In her head, she returns to their first night together, finally alone, in his parents' house.
..
"Charles," she whispers into his mouth, "I'm not gonna break". He looks up at her confused, his hands barely touching her skin. She goes on to reassure him, taking his face in both her hands and pulling herself closer to his body. After all that time apart, and their conversation at the restaurant, she doesn't know how he's capable of holding back. She anticipated hurried frantic kisses, both of them on edge from need. Instead, he was so gentle, taking his time to caress her hair and her lips, it drove her mad. "I'm right here, we've waited long enough, you don't have to hold back, I'm not gonna break."
"We have all the time in the world" he answers as his head dips down to kiss her neck.
"Exactly. You can do gentle later" she laughs and shifts to make him lay on his back, straddling him between her thighs, surprise and intrigue beaming from his darkening eyes.
As she pulls her striped dress over her head, he pouts laughingly "I wanted to do that", his voice imitating an unsatisfied child.
"Well, mate, you can do the next one" she snickers as she leans down to kiss him, raising his hands to the strap of her bra, her fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. "Touch me, Charles, kiss me," she whispers in his ear, her voice low and lined with need.
It's as if her words release something in him, like a signal he's been waiting for, to be sure they're on the same page. He sits up and encircles her in his arms, shifting his weight over her as he sets her back on the bed, his mouth finding hers, desire taking over as his kiss deepens and his tongue explores her mouth, his hands skimming all over her body, unable to stop long enough at one placeā¦
..
Grunting quietly, Molly shakes the memory away, deciding it to be too alluring for a night in a tent filled with sleeping women. Privacy is hard to come by, and though they all know they all have needs, and all have people and lovers they miss, it goes without saying that some things aren't done. Though her time in 2-section's quarters at the FOB taught her that the unwritten laws are quite different between the male squaddies. Oh, the noises and smells! (Just the thought is such a turn-off, any danger she'd been in about her mind wandering evaporates immediately.)
She turns her mind to the events of the day.
That Quaseem was there to hear her speak, was not a complete surprise. She'd written him before the tour that she's coming, and knew he'd look up her presentation at the university, but when he came, she was filled with joy at the familiar face. For a moment it felt like the old tour, with 2-section and the Boss, and she felt a small sense of belonging. It was overwhelming that a man so far removed from her, could give her such a sense of familiarity, of security. She was grateful for the connection they formed during her first tour, her reminding him of his lost daughter, and him providing a calm, self-assured father figure when all seemed so out of hand and extreme. And then there was Bashira. How did that little girl succeed to get under her skin so fast? Even before everything went tits up. She really was like a sister. Like Bella. And Molly worried about her just the same. Maybe that was the dangerous caring the Boss wrote about in his letter.
But Bella had two parents and nan and Molly to make sure she got on her path. And she lived in the quite oblivion of West Ham. Bashira's life and perpetual struggle to just bloody live through the day, not to mention go to school, were so far from her. And now she had no one. And that was Molly's fault. So when the opportunity came to see her at her new school, there was no question about it. Regardless of the means needed to be taken. Hell, she would pose as Sadam Hussain's wife if that would mean she could see Bashira was safe. Wearing a chadri was a no brainer. And it was so light, compared to her normal kit, she'd almost enjoyed it.
She wishes Charles had been there with her, to see Bashira's face as she played in that courtyard, how her eyes lit when she saw and recognized Molly, how her voiced trembled when she thanked Molly for enabling her to go to school (children make it seem so simple sometimes, though they carry the complexity of the truth with them), how her laughter rang out as she beat Molly at their game again and again. Molly can't wait to tell him about it. She knows he's not gonna like it that she put herself in danger, but he has to understand. He has to know what it means to her, in order to really get to know her. He also has to know their first tour wasn't a complete fuck up. That in one thing they did good. One thing, eventually made sense.
This is what he meant by sorting it out. She gets it in now. Saying goodbye to Bashira was incredibly difficult. The odds of them meeting again next to nothing, but their meeting allows Molly to let go of some of the guilt she carries, and make room for other things, for new things.
With this thought, she finally falls asleep.
