Chapter 9 - Go Your Own Way

18th July 2018

Charles

It was a misty, damp early morning at Brize, as Charles watched the grey sky from the tarmac. The drizzle was landing on the grey surface, falling on the men who currently went about their business, preparing themselves to board the flight. His nerves were beginning to overtake him, and he tried instead to focus on the task in hand; overseeing the men as they travelled out to BATUS. A huge amount had happened in his life in the period since he had been informed of the deployment, and he reflected on the conversation which had triggered the changes.


22nd June 2018 (cont)

He stared at Rebecca after her monologue on coming along to Canada with him, wondering how to get the message across. He was never going to be able to change his life until he accepted that he couldn't carry on in this ridiculous situation. It had started with the best of intentions on both his and Rebecca's part; to try and create a united front to reassure Sam. But how long were they really supposed to try? Until he was a teenager? Until he finished school? Until he left home? He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable backlash he was about to face.

"Rebecca. Listen to me. This isn't a fresh start, or a chance to begin again. I'm going out there to work. I've already told the Lieutenant-Colonel that I have no intention of uprooting either you or Sam, and I meant it."

She stared at him carefully. "Charles, don't be ridiculous. We want to come."

He should have known that a direct approach would have been needed. Rebecca wasn't one to give anything up easily. "No. This is a non-starter. I'm not taking you with me."

"And Sam?"

He sighed. She definitely wasn't going to make this easy for him. "In an ideal world, I would have Sam with me all of the time, you know that. But I'm not moving him out halfway across the world to live for months when he's still recovering from what he's been through, Christ Rebecca, he's only just started back at school. What could possibly make you think that this is a good idea?"

"In an ideal world? So, in that 'ideal world', would you have me with you all of the time?"

She looked genuinely curious, and he realised that now he had started the difficult conversation, there was no way of pulling back. He would have to lay it all out in order to try and fix the absolute fuck up he had created here. It was a mess of his own making.

"I think you know the answer to that. Are you really going to make me spell it out?"

"No Charles" she sighed, shaking her head. "Believe it or not, I'm not a glutton for punishment. I really thought you might have at least tried, but you're not interested. We were already limping along when you disappeared to Newport and then you came back completely distraught. It's just like I knew it would be, you've been utterly miserable since you went there."

The mention of that place got his back up. He could barely bring himself to think about it any more; Newport contained nothing but painful memories for him.

"That has nothing to do with this conversation."

"It has everything to do with this conversation" she spat back, noting the look of despair that crossed his face as soon as she mentioned the place.

"Rebecca, what exactly is it that you want from me? Do you want me to tell you that I love you? That in an ideal world I would be taking you out to bloody Canada? Is that what you want?"

"I want you to actually care about me. To look at me instead of past me for a change."

He had literally no idea what to say to her next. This was painful in the extreme.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he challenged quietly. What else could he do? He wasn't capable of giving her anything more than his presence. He cursed his own pitiful reasoning, and resolved to end this. Now. For both of their sakes.

She carried on, not noticing the change in his stance, his posture suddenly improving as he gained the confidence to say what he needed to say. She was pained in her observation.

"Yes, you're here in body, but you never really came back emotionally, did you? I know you're only here because of Sam, you make it painfully obvious often enough."

His resolve had finally arrived, and he was suddenly filled with clarity.

"You're right." She gasped with shock at him actually admitting it, and he looked directly as her. "I'm not going to lie any more. All I do is lie, I'm sick of it. I'm here because of Sam. We both know that. I'm not the only one guilty of it."

"Speak for yourself. I want to make this marriage work."

He paced now, rubbing his hand against the hair at the nape of his neck in sheer frustration. "Rebecca. Listen to yourself. There is no bloody marriage. We're divorced. We live in the same house with our son, and we barely tolerate each other. That is not a marriage, it's a life sentence!"

"That's not true! I love you Charles!"

"You don't love me any more than I love you." He hadn't wanted to bring it up given his own situation, but she was leaving him with no choice. "Do you really think you would be sneaking off to meet another man if you loved me?"

She looked at him, horrified, a red blush creeping from her neck upwards to spread across her cheeks.

"You know?" She whispered.

"Of course I know. I'm not a complete idiot."

"Is that why you're doing this? Because don't." She shook her head vociferously, the tears now starting to make a track on her cheeks. She was desperate to explain. "The only reason I even went near Simon in the first place was because you refused to touch me. I was lonely and frustrated, and he made me feel like I was worth his time and attention."

He suddenly felt like a complete hypocrite. He had made her feel guilty for doing the same thing as he too had done. "You don't need to explain. I've known for a while. I was relieved. I wasn't jealous, or angry. I was relieved. And anyway, I have no right to judge."

She continued to sniff as the tears dried up. "What does that mean?"

He sighed. If he was going to start being honest then he had to apply that honesty to all aspects of this conversation. "I haven't been honest either. I have no right to expect you to live up to a standard that I don't meet."

She laughed sarcastically, as she realised exactly what he was referring to. "Oh good, are we referring to the third person in our marriage now? Will you actually break your silence on that now that you've humiliated me." Her anger was back, and he doubted the wisdom of even referencing the contentious topic of Molly. But he continued regardless.

"I'm not trying to humiliate you. I'm telling you not to feel guilty about wanting to be with somebody else. I can't expect that of you when I'm guilty of the same thing."

"And don't I know it. She's here every day, casting a shadow over us. 'The woman who saved your life'." She thrust her hands into the air in frustration. "She saved your life but she killed any chance we ever had of being happy stone dead in the water. You've never been able to let her go, and that's what finished us. Nothing else."

He shouldn't have raised the topic of Molly. He could feel anger start to stir inside of him at the way Rebecca was referring to her. "Don't reinvent history. You had walked out on me before I even met Molly. We were in the middle of the divorce before I even laid eyes on her."

"That may be so, but we could have had a chance to be happy this time around if you'd been even remotely willing to let go of her."

He was beyond frustrated now, and the simple fact that he had been forced to let go of Molly due to the mess they had made of it all, infuriated him. The only person he was angry with was himself, for ever letting things get this out of control. He still maintained enough self-control to wrap his next sentence in a furious low whisper, to try and stop himself shouting enough to wake Sam.

"I've got no choice but to let her go. She doesn't want me!" He tried to ignore the pain in his chest that the statement inspired. "That doesn't change the fact that we need to end this. For everyone's sake. The atmosphere in this house is poisonous, and it's not going to help Sam anymore. We have to get a grip and stop trying to fix something that's beyond repair."

His words had finally registered with her and the tears had begun to flow again. She remained bitter, but he recognised the look of resigned acceptance on her face.

"I know."


Once she had finally admitted that she agreed with him on just how poisonous their relationship had become, the rest of the conversation became slightly more productive. It wasn't what he would call entirely amicable, but there was a recognition on both of their parts that they couldn't carry on the way things were currently going. They sat up for most of the night, discussing where they would go from here. Barriers were broken down, with both of them finally able to be honest with each other for the first time in years.

Rebecca came to the conclusion that she wanted to go out to Canada for a few weeks in any case. The prospect of seeing her parents had appealed to her greatly. They had travelled over to the UK for a while when Sam was sick, but it hadn't been for long enough, and she found herself in need of their support. They agreed that she and Sam would fly out to spend time with them as soon as possible. It would let Charles move his things out of the marital home and sort himself out before he despatched.

They came to an agreement that when Charles did arrive in Canada, in 3 weeks time, Rebecca would bring Sam to see him at BATUS before the pair returned back to the UK, leaving Charles behind. All aspects considered and discussed, they agreed that it was for the best.

Besides the obvious feeling of relief, Charles felt utter sadness at the way things had worked out. Rebecca may have been right; perhaps if he had been willing to reinvest himself fully in the relationship, then things may have worked. But the fact of the matter was that the whole situation had always felt like a betrayal of what he and Molly had shared. He knew that if the intervening years they had spent apart had involved Molly becoming involved in a relationship, never mind a marriage, he would have been devastated. He didn't even know if she was involved with anybody else, all he could do was hope to god that she wasn't.

The thought of Molly being somebody else's girlfriend, somebody else's wife, or god forbid, the mother of somebody else's children, filled him with the most innate sense of horror. He had absolutely no right to feel that way, and he knew it. But it didn't prevent the sense of despair that he felt at the thought of it.

He knew that, given how effectively he had managed to fuck things up between them, she wanted nothing more to do with him. She had walked out on him; she was effectively lost to him. He couldn't change that. But he could at least make it clear to her that she wasn't an affair; that their night together wasn't a meaningless bit on the side to him. It was everything. Maybe if he could make her understand that, then she may not hate him quite as much. He had no right to expect anything. But he knew all that he could do to ease his conscience was to try and right things as much as he could.

That began with going out to Canada as a single man. He had found a flat close to Barracks and arranged for his things to be moved from the family home. The flat was small but perfect; there was a room for him and Sam, plus a small spare room. It had taken a few weeks to get it all sorted out, and felt like a fairly futile exercise at times given that he was about to ship out for 6 months, but it was necessary in order to clear his head.

He could feel some control beginning to return to his life, together with a sense that maybe he could breathe again. He knew that he wouldn't feel as complete and whole as he had that night in Newport, but at least he wasn't living a lie any more. That had to mean something.


18th July 2018 (cont)

The journey to BATUS had been slow and painfully boring, but at least felt like progress. He was having to convince himself that there was very little chance of him simply running into Molly. The facility was vast, with thousands of personnel placed there. He knew that the chances of him seeing her without trying to were remote. But he also knew that he would be looking around every corner for her until he did eventually track her down.

They had finally arrived at the base by early evening after a long day of travel, when he received the fateful message. He rushed to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible, only to be confronted by a hysterical Rebecca. She had been travelling to the base with Sam to meet Charles, as planned, when he had been lethargic and reluctant to eat. Knowing how dangerous missing meals was for him with his illness, she had tried to force the issue, but his condition continued to worsen. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, and suffering from hypoglycaemia, also known as dangerously low blood sugar. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the first time Sam's reaction had been so extreme. Luckily help had been on hand when they arrived at the base, and Sam had been whipped into the hospital as quickly as possible for treatment.

As he entered the hospital room, following Rebecca, his relief when he first saw Sam sitting up in the bed was palpable. He was pale and listless, but his eyes sparkled with relief as soon as he saw his father enter.

"Dad!" he cried out with a croaky throat from his place on the bed, hospital gown wrapped around his small body.

Charles enveloped him in a hug as soon as he saw him, squeezing his small frame tightly and kissing the thick hair on top of his head. He looked up from the hug to notice a woman, who he assumed to be Sam's doctor, watching him curiously.

"Hello. I'm Doctor Maguire. I'm treating Sam."

"Charles James. Sam's father." he extended a hand to the woman. She was tall, probably not far off his height, and she met his gaze directly, shaking his hand firmly. She proceeded to rattle off the particular details of Sam's treatment from admission to the hospital, covering it all efficiently and professionally. It was all very thorough, but Charles had a horrible feeling during the entire discussion, of something not feeling quite right. It was a finely honed instinct of anticipation that had built up within him from his years on tour. Everything appeared completely normal, but something was off. Something didn't feel quite right. He wished he could put his finger on exactly what that thing was.

He tried to shake off the persistent niggle in his head; telling himself that he was just out of sorts after spending an entire day travelling, and then rushing straight to the hospital. That was all it was. The doctor excused herself fairly quickly after that point, but there was a seemingly endless trail of nurses visiting the room, leaving him with hardly any time alone with his son.

Eventually, the visitors tailed off, and he managed to convince Rebecca to stay in one of the relatives rooms overnight to try and get some sleep. A benefit of spending almost twelve years in the Army was an ability to fall asleep almost anywhere, and he would stay with Sam in the small room. He pulled an armchair quietly to Sam's bedside, anxious not to disturb his peaceful sleep, together with another chair to sit opposite it. As he sat back in the chair, bringing his ankles up to perch on its opposite number, he rested his head back and stared at the ceiling of the small room. One of the nurses had brought him a pillow and blanket, and he made use of both items, trying to push the ever present niggle in his brain that something wasn't quite right.

He managed to stay that way for much of the night, moving only when sunlight began to creep into the room. The military man inside of him forced him to prepare for the day ahead, rearranging the chairs in their correct position, and folding up the used blanket. For the first time since he had arrived at the hospital, he let a genuine grin pass his face as Sam woke up and stretched, a loud yawn erupting from his mouth. His face had regained some of its usual colour, and it was only when he noticed that fact, that Charles felt some of the tension knotting in his stomach release. Since Sam had fallen so ill, one of the major worries day to day was that his condition would relapse. From the information shared so far by the doctor, it seemed as though this was a stumbling block rather than a full-blown disaster. The way Sam's stomach was currently grumbling as he wolfed down his breakfast would seem to support that fact.

Reassured by the fact that Sam was awake and eating, he ventured down to the cafeteria near the front door of the hospital to wake himself with a coffee and something to eat. As he waited in line at the coffee cart, he spotted a flash of red hair enter the front door of the hospital, and recognised from the height of the woman that it was Sam's doctor. He had a couple of questions that he had forgotten to ask last night about Sam's treatment, and whether his son would be able to travel back to the UK with Rebecca as planned. He thought about waiting for his coffee regardless and finding her later, but again, that feeling was present. Something wasn't quite right here.

He left the line of waiting customers, and made his way over to the doctor, trying for the life of him to remember her name. She was Irish; it was an Irish surname. Maloney? Murphy? No, Maguire, that was it.

"Excuse me, Doctor Maguire?"

It happened at the exact same moment that he uttered the words. His attention was suddenly drawn to the figure which had been right beside the doctor, but who was now standing at least ten paces away from her. He hadn't looked at that figure until that precise moment, but it was now all he wanted to do. A warm roar of recognition flooded his senses as he drank her in. Her dark hair flowed down her back, falling around her shoulders. He could see the side of her face in profile, despite the fact that she wasn't meeting his gaze, looking at the floor instead.

Molly. His Molly.

She had heard him. He knew it because she stood stock still, rooted to the ground, absolutely refusing to risk a glance in his direction. He vaguely registered the fact that Dr Maguire was standing in front of him, waiting for him to say something to her. But he couldn't. He couldn't quite force his brain to engage with anything beyond the fact that he had finally seen her again. His next words should have been an explanation to his son's doctor for his decidedly bizarre behaviour. But he couldn't. The words wouldn't leave his mouth. Instead, he heard the choked call come from his lips as he willed her to turn around and look at him.

"Molly?"


AN. I know, it's the same cliffhanger as the last time, but we know so much more now! CJ and Rebecca have finally called time on their so-called relationship, and we have seen CJ start to make some progress in extracting his head from his arse! I know there wasn't much MD/CJ time here, but we are getting there, I promise. Next time, we will have some long overdue interaction between our two favourites...

Sorry this one has taken a while, but I had a bit of a block when pulling it all together. Hopefully the fact that it was difficult to write doesn't equate to difficult to read..

As ever, thank you so much for the lovely comments on the previous chapters. I will work on getting the next one up as soon as I can. Hope you enjoyed this one.

Song was Go Your Own Way, by Fleetwood Mac