A/N: Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas as we did, now getting our canine terrorist back into her usual routine so that life will, hopefully, be getting back to normal. Here as promised is the penultimate chapter, the next will be Valentines and life afterwards and will be up tomorrow, or maybe later today if I can just crack the last little paragraph.

A BIRTHDAY PARTY

The evening hadn't started well. Just over three weeks ago from New Year, almost the end of January and the weather was horrible, cold, wet and miserable and the atmosphere in the car wasn't much better. They were waiting to pull out of the car park outside 2 Field where she was stationed and he was drumming his fingers irritably on the steering wheel, impatience getting the better of him. They were late setting off for Bath, because she'd been late and had kept him waiting for quite a while outside barracks, so that he'd been leaning up against the side of his car frowning up at the building, as if that was going to make a scrap of difference, and then looking down at his watch pointedly when she'd rushed out of the door, bag over one shoulder, coat half on and almost hopping as she was still trying to do up the ankle strap of her new heels. He'd greeted her with a "Chop, chop, where the hell have you been? Come on, we're going to be late" as he'd grabbed her weekend bag and thrown it in the back of the car.

A party, a surprise birthday bash for Margaret in a posh restaurant and Molly had been anxious that he should be proud of her, this was the first time they'd been to any family type 'do' as a couple. She'd been really excited when she'd been out with Emma and bought the pale grey dress she was wearing, the most expensive bit of clothing she'd ever owned and the new shoes, very high heeled to minimise their height difference, shoes that fitted her so that she could walk in them, and now it all felt like such a massive bleeding waste of time and money, he hadn't even noticed.

"Sorry you had to wait" She did her best to keep the snippy, 'I don't mean a fucking word I just said' or a whiney 'don't pick on me' tone out of her voice "But it weren't my fault, I couldn't help it"

"I'm not mad at you"

"Yeah you are, you'd only talk to me like that if I was in the shit"

"Like what?"

"Like you was still me boss"

She looked across at him and pulled a face, she didn't like his Captain Miserable Arse act one little bit, she hadn't seen it in the few weeks since they'd got together but now had very clear memories from when he'd been in a strop about something in the past and she was beginning to wish that she wasn't going to the bloody party, it felt like it could be a disaster waiting to happen with him in this mood. It was okay for him, if he wanted to get off early or even to just get off on time, he just did, just packed up, might of said 'Bye, I'm off now' but didn't have to, and then just fucked off. Even if he was in the middle of something he could pass it over to some other fucker and tell them to sort it, but he knew only too well that it was a completely different ball bag for her, it didn't matter who her boyfriend was, or what his plans were, she had to wait until someone dismissed her, said she could go…. .

"Sorry" He didn't sound particularly sorry but at least he'd said it.

"I were late getting off, we had this patient arrive just when I were finishing and the old hag wouldn't let me go till he was all settled, she wouldn't dismiss me 'n I'm sorry …..Okay?" She put her hand out ready to pat his knee then thought better of it "Is that better? Cos I dunno what else I can say?" She paused to think for a moment "You know, I reckon she's really got it in for me, there was loads of CMTs that could of done it, but nah, had to be me didn't it? She knew I wanted to get off, and then she started having a pop at me cos I was maybe a bit ….. well, you know, a little bit upset and you'd think I were used to getting bollocked by now wouldn't you? Had enough bleeding practice" She sighed as she tried, and failed, to sound both misunderstood and cruelly hard done by and wondered whether it was worth trying to squeeze out some tears, but they would be tears of rage, nothing else and her mascara would end up decorating her face "Then I had to get changed, didn't I? So, do I look okay? You haven't said …. "

"I'm not mad at you, I'm never mad at you" He still sounded irritated, a tone of voice that she remembered only too well from their days in Afghan, a tone of voice that he'd once used to good effect to slap her down when she'd gone too far in answering him back "And you look very beautiful" He took a deep breath, obviously trying to get himself under control "And you're here now"

He pulled out into the stream of traffic heading towards the M3 "Do you want me to arrange for someone to pay her a little visit, break her legs, I can if you want me to?"

"Yeah, could you? That'd be really good"

"As soon as we get back then, okay?"

"Thanks"

After driving in silence for a while, his smile when he'd offered to sort out her NCO had long since vanished and it felt like hours to Molly, but was actually no more than an hour, he pulled into the Services and parked, not in one of the queues for the petrol pumps, but in the car park proper, pulling on the handbrake and killing the engine, filling Molly with a sense of foreboding.

"What you doing, I thought we was in a hurry?"

"Not that much of a hurry, I want to know why you keep looking at me like that"

"I'm being focussed" She opened her eyes as wide as she could and smiled at him "I'm staying alert as well …" He leaned across as far as his seatbelt would allow so that he could kiss her on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, I was so busy being bloody impatient that I forgot to kiss you" He moved back and unclipped his seatbelt all ready to get out "Let's get a coffee, I think we need a bit of a chat before we get there"

-OG-

The shopping trip with Em had been fun, they'd had a couple of glasses of wine, an essential pre-cursor before braving 'late night shopping' at the Centrale then Whitgift Centres in Croydon, especially in the January Sales, so they'd been able to giggle their way round Karen Millen, Mango and Zara and had been completely unable to find Monsoon which Emma swore blind was hiding there somewhere, until they'd found 'the' dress and then 'the' shoes.

They'd been in his bed together when she'd expressed her huge reservations about going to the party, that she was worried about only knowing Margaret for five minutes, that she'd only spent Christmas and New Year's Day with her so it wasn't like they'd known each other forever, shared a few shopping trips or downed a bottle of wine together. He'd propped himself on one elbow and laughed as he told her that he wouldn't dare turn up on his own, that it would be more than his life would be worth if he left her behind, and anyway his mother would make him drive up and collect her.

"Who else has your dad asked?"

"Not sure, well, I'm almost sure he'll have asked Gran"

"Oh that'll make Margaret's day" She'd sniggered happily.

"Well, he couldn't not, could he? Mum doesn't really hate her ….. " He said doubtfully, pulling a face "And Betsy and Graham, maybe their daughter and her husband, don't know about anyone else"

"It's getting better and better"

"Are you taking the piss?"

"Me? Course not, I wouldn't dare Boss"

"Stop it"

"Stop what?"

The discussion had ended there when he'd held her down and demanded that she apologise for calling him Boss, threatening, with a wicked smirk on his face, to torture her until she did, restraint that had quickly become something totally different, so that all discussions about the party had got lost somewhere when she'd started to giggle "Yes please" and "Is that a promise?"

That had been two short weeks ago, and now they were sitting in a Services on the A303 late in the gloom of a wet Friday afternoon surrounded by miserable looking people with noisy badly behaved kids all sitting at sticky tables as Molly watched him get drinks and waited for the axe to fall, because this was what she'd been dreading. It was the first time she'd admitted to herself that their relationship was difficult for her to actually believe in that for the last week or so whenever she'd been alone in her pit, or anywhere else for that matter, she'd begun her 'looking for clues' exercise.

Every time she'd been in any sort of relationship that might possibly end up being important and the first flush of getting together was over she would begin to be afraid it was all going tits up, but it wasn't usually this quick, it normally took about three months before things started to fall to shit. Sometimes she'd looked at herself, at what she'd said or done and what she'd actually meant, like with Paul, or like now, when, hard as she'd tried not to, she'd begun looking at him in a sort of forensic examination of every little thing he'd said, or done, looking for underlying meaning or a hidden agenda, for the proof that she was right to be afraid, and right now she was, very afraid.

"Molly?" He put the cups down and tipped her chin up with his finger, then held it so that she had no choice but to look him in the face "What's wrong?"

"I were going to say the same thing to you? I really couldn't help it you know and I've said I'm sorry"

"What for? Why are you sorry?" He took a deep breath "It's not you, you haven't done anything, it's me"

"And ….…"

"And ….?" He shook his head slightly then shrugged and lifted his eyebrows as he asked the question "And what?"

"This ain't working, is it?" or "You deserve better than this" or some other shit, that's what you're gonna say next innit? cos that's what people say next when they tell you it's them not you. What they really mean is "Thanks very much it's been great, could you just piss off now?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He shook his head again then rubbed through the curls on the back of his neck as he looked at her, impatient Captain Miserable Arse written all over his face "That's not true, not a word of it. I meant what I said, you haven't done anything, it was just me being moody and I'm sorry"

"Well, does that mean you're not gonna dump me?"

"Why on earth would you think I'd want to dump you? No, don't answer that" He put a hand up as if to shut her up, then shook his head disbelievingly and smiled "How old are you now Molly? 23?"

"Ish" She ignored the inconvenient fact that it was more than 8 months till her 23rd birthday.

He laughed "When I was 23 ….ish….. I'd done Uni and Sandhurst and got my first posting, thought I was going to conquer the world" He looked at her, his face suddenly completely serious "And I was convinced I was in love, I would carry on being in the army doing the job I love and she would always be there waiting around when I got back, the whole bloody nine yards …." He shrugged "And look where we are now"

"What you trying to say? Cos all that is very sad 'n that, but it's got bugger-all to do with how old I am, I'm not Rebecca"

"No, of course you're not, it's just that 23 is ….. well, very young and I'm worried because it's odds on you'll change your mind about me, we started out with everything between us being very ….. difficult, what with me being your boss and telling you what to do all the time and you having to do as you were told and ….…"

"Don't worry I never took no notice of all that bollocks" She giggled as she interrupted him, full of overwhelming relief that he wasn't trying to get rid of her "I'm not gonna change me mind ….. and I'm not 23 either, more like 22 actually"

"Fuck, it's getting worse"

"Nah, everyone knows that girls mature much quicker than boys, so I reckon we're near enough the same age, you know, give or take a bit"

"Maybe" He raised an eyebrow as her giggling began to force a smile to his lips "Look, what I wanted to tell you was not to panic if Mum starts going on about the house, she wants to move somewhere else, fuck knows where, but she says its time. She's been saying for years that she wasn't going to let Rebecca get her greedy mitts on it, and now Dad says she's started to say that you … well that you're different, but I know that you're not going to want to sit in that place on your own waiting for me to come home from work, and it's far too far for you carry on at 2 Field and go backwards and forwards, so … "He shrugged with a rueful expression on his face.

"And I can't drive"

"And you can't drive"

-OG-

He opened her car door and then did up the top button of her coat, sighing deeply and pulling her closer as he held onto the lapels for a minute, then put his hands under her hair to cup her face "I know I didn't tell you earlier, I was far too busy being a bloody misery, but you look gorgeous tonight and I don't deserve you and we're going to have a lovely evening …. have I forgotten anything?"

"Nah, yeah, you haven't kissed me and then I think we better get our arses back in the car, I'm getting bloody frozen out here and me hair's getting wet"

"I'm sorry" He lifted her chin again so that he could look into her eyes then kissed her "Am I forgiven yet?"

"Yeah, I s'pose, well I'll think about it" She kissed him on the chin "Trouble is I'm a bloody pushover aren't I? so, yeah, course you are"

-OG-

"Looks like a nice place"

"What the Bailbrook? Yes it is, it's Mum's favourite"

He took her coat and gave it to the 'greeter' who was about to show them through to where their party was sitting, waiting.

"This is well nice too innit?"

"Yes it is" He kept his hands on her shoulders as she stopped in front of him behind the 'greeter', and leaned back slightly, looking around at the cheerful buzz of the room "Yup it's lovely, tell you what, I'll bring you here on our own, just you and me" He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head so that she looked back up at him and smiled, her whole body again washed with relief that they were still together.

"That'll be nice"

Margaret, Bill and Caroline, together with another couple who Molly assumed were Pat and her husband, but who turned out to be Margaret's best friend Helen and her partner, were sitting at the end of the room and Margaret's whole face lit up with a beaming smile when she caught sight of her son and Molly threading their way towards the table.

"You're late and why didn't one of you tell me about this?" She got out of her chair slightly as Charles bent to kiss her cheek then leaned forward so that Molly could reach her across the table "It's so lovely to see you dear, but if this ever happens again, if either of these two stupid buggers gets this sort of bright idea, don't take any notice of anything they say to you, just ring me, I might have wanted a very expensive piece of jewellery instead"

"Mum, stop it, it wouldn't have been a surprise if we'd rung you, would it? And stop being so bloody ungrateful, I know Dad got you jewellery as well, and you look lovely" He stepped back and added "I suppose you won't want this then?" He held the beautifully wrapped silver photograph frame that they'd found in an antique shop, the cost of which had made Molly gulp, just out of her reach and added "Happy birthday"

"Stop being horrible to your mother and give it here, I'm allowed to be a bit of a bugger today, it's my birthday"

Margaret pulled a face as she burst out laughing with her son, no-one seemed to have taken any offence at what she'd said, even Bill had laughed uproariously as Molly looked anxiously from one face to the other. She knew if that had been someone in her family they would have thrown a massive strop if their present wasn't appreciated, even if the person was only joking and didn't mean it, mind you no-one in her lot would get involved in sorting secret parties for her mum in the first place, and Belinda would probably prefer to have the money instead, which suddenly struck her as more than a bit sad.

-OG-

The party had been a very happy gathering, Margaret had loved the photo frame and had then insisted that Molly sit next to her while she spent the evening whispering very 'judgy' comments in her ear about everyone else in the place, so that Molly had giggled until her sides hurt. The evening had climaxed with the appearance of a birthday cake and a very noisy rendition of 'Happy Birthday', which Charles sang beautifully in tune and everyone else rivalled Molly's cat-strangling impression.

They'd been sober when they'd come to bed, well he'd been 100% stone cold sober, because he'd been driving and Molly had only had enough wine to be sociable, so she was very far from pissed, but they'd been greedy and unrestrained when they'd made love, both needing to erase stuff from the day. It was now the early hours and he was flat out as she lay there listening to his steady breathing and wondering why Margaret hadn't mentioned anything about the house or moving, she was now worried that it was a sign his mum had changed her mind, that she'd decided she no longer wanted to move out so that Molly could live here with her son.

And at the end of the day, was it even going to be possible, even if he wanted her to be there with him and he hadn't said anything like that had he? And even if he did want her to and did ask her, was it what she wanted?