Well finally there's an end. I had a big old falling out with this story but I'd like to thank those who kept reminding me they were reading it. It's only been finished because of your lovely words and kind thoughts.
31 December
The sun was beating down on the dirt path. Hot air rose in a shimmering haze from the parched ground. The rising heat combined with the strong wind made it feel like he was running in an oven. The path rose steeply, climbing ever upwards. Fingers pushed on, feeling the sweat running down his back, his legs aching, the muscles singing in a sweet agony as his feet continued to pound on the path. His lungs were stinging, working hard to grasp oxygen from the thin air. He had no idea why he was running; he was consumed with a drive to push onwards, never slowing, along the rising path.
The path started to open up, climbing upward towards a ridge. The land either side of him was dry, sparsely covered with vegetation brown from the relentless sun and heat. Large boulders littered the landscape scattering down the slope, the path weaving upwards through them.
The path stopped abruptly at the top of the ridge, the side of the valley falling away steeply in front of him. Gasping for breath, his lungs stinging and his muscles burning he bent over, leaning on his knees breathing deeply, waiting for the blood to stop rushing through his ears and for his heart rate to come back to normal. Each inhalation burned a little less as he slowly caught his breath, until after a few minutes he could breathe normally once more. His thighs felt heavy, cramping slightly in protest. Pushing himself upright to stretch out he stopped dead in his tracks. From the corner of his eye he noticed feet, clad in worn but looked after boots, his eyes traveled upwards slowly, fatigues, worn soft from wear, dusty and gathered at the knee pad, body armour and webbing.
Smurf stood still, gazing into the distance. He was dressed in full kit, just as he would have been for an acclimatisation run. The warm breeze that blew up from the valley floor ruffled his brown hair. His eyes were trained on the horizon, looking far into the distance. He blinked slowly but didn't turn to Fingers, just carried on staring into space. Eventually he spoke, briefly glancing over his shoulder, his voice full of playful sneering.
"You're getting out of shape. Time was that run wouldn't have phased you. Getting flabby in your old age?" He turned. He was exactly as he had been, his face untouched by age, fresh and boyish in its youth.
Somehow Fingers found his voice,
"What the fuck is this?"
Smurf ignored his question "Lovely view from up here isn't it? I like to come up and look at it. Not as good a Newport, mind" he turned back to the view. "But still, no memories here"
"Where are we?"
"Where do you think this is?"
Fingers scanned the horizon - he couldn't see anything to give him clue, the valley looked unpopulated, there were no significant landmarks, not even a road; just trees and thin scrubby dry vegetation for miles, disappearing into distant hills and a blue shimmering heat that stretched to the horizon. Fingers didn't dare voice his first answer, but somehow Smurf seemed to know what he was thinking. He laughed "Don't be a muppet, it's not that"
Fingers took a seat on the rocky ground, resting his elbows on his knees with Smurf next to him. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the shadows cast by the clouds scudding over the view beneath them. Aside from the wind there was no sound, no birdsong or the chirrup of insects. Despite the strange situation Fingers didn't feel uncomfortable, there didn't appear to be any tension, and the easy familiarity of being with someone who he knew and knew him so well was, on one level, very comforting.
Smurf broke the silence. "Bit harsh what you said about my mum, don't you think?"
"What?" Fingers replied, shaken out of his silence.
"You said she was 'stirring the shit'" Smurf glanced up at him, his eyes shining in the sunlight.
"Well she was. We didn't need that sort of thing" Fingers was on the back foot, and responded defensively.
Smurf leant over, picking a stalk of dried grass from the ground. Examining it closely for a moment he ran a fingernail down the length of the blade "She was right though. About Gerriant, and about me." there was a pause, and he turned to him, one blue eye squinting shut as he looked into the sun. He leant closer and Fingers could feel the heat coming off his shoulder, his voice dropped to a touch above a whisper, "want to know what she says about you?"
Fingers sat up abruptly, his heart pounding, panic creeping over him. He was sweating profusely, the duvet clung heavily to his legs, damp with sweat; he grew increasingly frantic trying to kick it off. Gasping ineffectually at the warm air of the bedroom he stumbled from the bed, trailing half the covers with him.
The room was roasting hot, the air thick and warm, he could almost taste it as he knelt on the floor fighting to bring his gasping, panicked breathing under control. Despite the heat a cold trickle of panic spread over his back, a thousand icy prickles spreading over back as the sweat evaporated from his skin.
He could hear footsteps running towards him. He tried to get up, kicking at the bedding caught around his legs, trying to stand, to move, to run. The room was dark, nothing in the shadows seemed familiar, the panic disoriented him. There was a hand on his back; he flinched away from it, but it held on, grabbing his shoulders and sitting him up; arms around him and a soft body pressed against him. He stiffened against the touch, but it held on and gradually he became aware of a voice, just noise to begin with, and then slowly words became recognisable "Rob? Rob? It's fine. Everything is fine. You're safe. You're safe."
As the words filtered into his consciousness he began to calm, his heart rate dropping, his breath evened out. Zoe continued to hold him and he melted into her embrace; his arms pulling her closer as he let the touchstone of her body and her words bring him back. His breath shuddered out of him, the smell of her anchoring him still further. He buried his face in her shoulder, allowing the sensation of her body against his to calm him. He could feel her naked beneath a thin t shirt, and his hands moved of their own accord, caressing the fabric against her skin, moving upwards cupping her breast. He pulled her closer still, his hands tugging at the hem, dragging the fabric, damp with his sweat, up over her body, feeling his flesh move against hers. He turned his head to her neck, his mouth skimming over the skin, her hair catching against his lips as he moved upwards. He was encompassed by the desire that coursed through him, overtaken by the need to be with her, to put himself as far away from his dream, to lose himself in the sensation that she stirred within him.
Using the weight of his body he pushed her back, rising over her until she lay in the nest of discarded bedding, all the time his mouth was on her, quivering against her flesh, his hands roaming over the softness of her skin, searching for something to replace the fear that he could still taste at the back of his throat, bitter and metallic.
Zoe pushed against him, her body stiffening under his touch; but he seemed oblivious. She pushed back harder, trying to put her arms beneath his shoulders and shove him off her. Using all her strength she heaved upward, twisting her hips from underneath him, wriggling out from where he'd had her pinned. Suddenly he stopped, rolling abruptly away, turning away from her and curling up tightly. She could see each bump of his spine, the dim morning light reflecting off his sweat-slicked back. His shoulders shuddered as he tried to bring himself under control.
Lying still, curled foetal-tight, eyes still shut, gasping in short breaths, he jumped as Zoe stroked the softness of his hair, cropped close. "Rob" she whispered gently, her hand cupping the curve of his skull. He twisted his head, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face, clearly not interested in any sort of discussion going by the way he avoided looking on her direction.
"Shit" he muttered the reality of what he had just done dawning on him. He looked up, briefly looking into the soft grey of her eyes, "shit. I'm sorry. That was…." He didn't even want to think what that had been, or could have been. He hadn't thought; he'd just been consumed by it. Instinct had overtaken him and somewhere inside it whispered darkly of what he could be capable of. Zoe reached out once more, her thumb stroking across the arch of his brow. She looked into his eyes, trying to convey what she couldn't put into words; acceptance, understanding, reassurance. She pressed her lips against his, but he didn't reciprocate. His brow was furrowed as he was far away in thoughts. Zoe sighed, stretching across, searching for her discarded t shirt. The emotional cold shoulder that Fingers was giving her was sadly a familiar sight; she had seen it enough times to know that pushing it or making it about her feelings was not going to help. Pulling the shirt over her head she stood, addressing the back of his head. "Boiler's on the blink. I'm going to see if I can sort it out. Why don't you get yourself a shower? There's plenty of hot water." Fingers remained silent, she wasn't even sure he had been listening.
Even with the doors and windows open and a cold breeze running through the house Zoe was still roasting hot. The contents of a toolbox were spewed over the kitchen table as she cursed at the screw jammed tight against the plastic cover to the thermostat. Muttering under her breath she blew her hair out of her eyes once again, it caught on the sweat of her cheek and she pushed it away with a growl of frustration.
The poor screw head was so mangled that she doubted that she was ever going to free it. "Fucking cowboy REME bastard" she muttered before turning back to the table and rifling through the assortment of tools and selecting another screwdriver and a hammer. She settled the screwdriver in what was left of the head of the screw and brought down the hammer on its end, like a chisel.
"Whoa there!" Fingers caught her hand just as she raised it above her head again, readying to strike a blow on the screwdriver. "What the hell is going on?"
"This is how I do DIY" Zoe twisted her wrist, freeing it from his grasp
"It's how you bloody electrocute yourself" he tried again to take the hammer off her, sighing she gave it up.
"The thermostat is buggered. I need to get the casing off to look at it, but screw head is stripped, I'm just trying to make a notch so I can unscrew it" aggravated, she waved her hands as she spoke, the end of the screwdriver coming dangerously close to Fingers' face at one point. He ducked out of the way before gently wrapping his hand over hers and taking the screwdriver from it before she could do more damage.
"Let me" he said softly
"I can bloody well do it." Zoe tried to take the screwdriver back.
"I didn't say you couldn't, but just let me, OK?" He nodded slightly, giving her a slight smile. "Then you can tell me about the fucking REME bastard you were cursing just now"
"You don't want to know"
Fingers squinted at the problem screw, it's head a flattened tangle of metal "No, I don't suppose I do" he muttered. "Have you got an elastic band?" Zoe turned to look for one in the jumble of junk that littered the table before passing one to him.
As he fiddled with the screw he paused a moment half glancing at Zoe behind him. "I'm sorry. You know, about before" he shrugged one shoulder, turning his attention back to the thermostat "I don't...well that's not happened before." He frowned, and then carried on fiddling.
"What was it?" Zoe asked
"What was what?" He tried to turn the screw, the screwdriver failing to grip.
"What happened?"
Fingers was quiet for a moment as he paused, intent on the wall, "Nothing. Weird dream is all"
"About?" Zoe asked without expecting a decent response.
"It's not important" Fingers grunted, the screw relenting and turning marginally. "Pliers?" He extended a hand in Zoe's direction and after a brief search she passed him a set. He worked silently, a few mutterings under his breath as Zoe watched on. The only noise was the halting tick of the kitchen clock. She could follow his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, the flex of the muscles in his forearms, the curve of his bicep, the turn of his shoulder as he worked to free the screw. She held back a sigh. Every movement, the single minded concentration on the job in hand was a wall to deflect any attempt to get him to open up. It was pointless. And what for? This was for a good time, not a long time, wasn't it? Tomorrow he would be gone. A Christmas diversion packed away along with the decorations. It was for the best. Time to buckle down to life and get through the next storm headed her way. Her time in this posting was running out, she could sense it. No matter the outcome with Harris sooner or later it was going to make her position untenable, she had better start looking for the next opportunity and someone riding shotgun was not ideal.
God knows where that idea had come from. She shook her head to clear the thought away. She had never found relationships worked, and besides she wasn't interested in anything like that. Her eyes travelled over the long lean lines of his body, the way he leant into the job, a sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders in the ridiculous heat of the kitchen. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, a quiet expletive escaping from him as the pliers failed to keep purchase on the screw head. She was aware of her breath becoming shallower, and the desire for him unfurling inside her again. The hitch in her breath, the flip in her stomach and the warmth pooling in her groin reminded her exactly what this was.
"Coffee?" She asked, turning away from him and looking for a distraction from the thoughts that crowded her head.
Fingers grunted "Tea, ta. God this thing is bloody wedged, I reckon the thread has gone too."
"Probably. REME bastard was tighter than a camel's chuff in a sandstorm." Zoe flicked on the kettle, trying to distract herself from the diversion across the room. Talk about your exes, that usually sends them packing she thought. "That screw was probably issued before the Falklands. 'Nowt wrong w'i it' he used to say. Should have known, bloody Yorkshire knobhead." She squeezed the tea bag against the side of the mug with the spoon.
An arm stole around her waist, and a damp warm body pressed into her back, pushing her toward the counter. She dropped her hands to brace herself against it. "Can we stop talking about him now?" Fingers whispered against her ear. His hand splayed over her stomach as his lips found the side of her neck. The buzz of desire she had felt earlier kicked up a notch as she tilted her head back and pressed herself into him. He was like a drug, intoxicating, rushing through her bloodstream, overwhelming all her senses. His hands gently began to push at the waistband of her pyjamas tugging them over her hips as his mouth travelled to her shoulder. His fingers playing over her hip bones, his touch an agonising tease just too light to tickle. "Do you remember that last time in Kenya? Do you remember how I made you come?" His hands moved down further dipping beneath her waistband then retreating, teasing and retreating over again. Zoe closed her eyes and dropped her head, summoning all her willpower to keep still. "You have no idea how much I wanted you. How much it took to walk away." He paused, she could feel his breath on her skin as he chuckled "Well, I think it was more of a hobble actually"
Zoe smiled, reaching up behind her, her hand stroking his close cropped head as he continued to murmur against her skin. "I couldn't get you out of my head. Those weeks I hoped you'd find me again. I felt sure you would"
"Are you suggesting I'm predictable?" Zoe turned and he leant in closer, pressing her against the cabinet.
"Maybe it's me; maybe I'm irresistible." he gave her a half smile, narrowing his eyes as he crouched down, his hands once again tugging at her waistband.
"Whatever you say"
He lowered his head, gently placing his lips against her hip bone as his hands moved down her thighs. She felt the scratch of his stubble against the skin of her belly as he worked across to the other hip. "It's been worth it. All of it. I don't want one bad dream to cock that up." his eyes flicked up to hers and beneath the lust that darkened them she could make out his sincerity. Resting his chin below her belly button a grin spread over his face "shall we skip the brew then?"
"I still don't understand how everything is suddenly all back on" Zoe was searching through a drawer, pulling out pairs of socks, squinting at them before returning them to the drawer. "Yesterday everything was off. She hadn't heard from him in days. Ahh!" She held a pair aloft in triumph before throwing them across the room. Fingers caught them with one hand.
"Does it matter?" He looked across the expanse of crumpled sheets and the duvet kicked into a lumpy pile at the foot of the unmade bed. "Whatever it was has been sorted"
"There's no way that was sorted this quickly. It couldn't be. You didn't see her yesterday. I've never seen her that cut up. I hope she's not going to let him get away with it"
Fingers sighed "Maybe he apologised."
"That's going to have to have been some fucking apology. To piss off and leave her with no word for days?"
"Whatever it is or isn't don't you think it's best to let them get on with it?"
"Oh stop being so bloody reasonable. Don't you at least have an opinion?" Zoe pulled on a pair of jeans, tugging at the buttons in exasperation.
"Of course I have an opinion, but it don't count for anything. Right now I'm more worried that I'm headed to a party wearing half the stores worth of cold weather gear. I'm going to boil."
"Trust me, you're going to need it. There's a reason most of us end up in the garden at one of Charles' parties. My tip is to dress for it."
"I wouldn't wear half this stuff if I was going out on exercise" he held up a pair of long johns "how come you have all this shit?"
"It just sort of accumulates" Zoe shrugged
Fingers held the long johns up against his waist. The acres of fabric looked as though it was enough to fit around him twice. "Fat knacker, was he?" He raised an eyebrow, grinning, although the smile didn't completely reach his eyes.
"I'm a lady" Zoe walked around the bed and kissed him briefly on the lips "I don't tell"
"You're no bloody lady" Fingers raised his eyebrow and nodded towards the bed, moving in to steal another kiss. Zoe swatted him away, wriggling out of his embrace.
"You're right. They're my brother's actually. And yes, he is a fat knacker. Wear them or not, just don't complain when you're cold later tonight."
The doors to the house were flung open, the light spilling onto a small patio with a tarpaulin rigged over it to keep any rain off. Most of the party goers were huddled in small groups, trying as best they could to be far away from the house, and therefore the music, which was blaring from inside.
Zoe made her way towards the drinks table in the corner and grabbed a couple of beers before making her way back towards Fingers. Taking the bottle from her, he nodded a silent thank you, and placed his arm casually around her shoulder.
"I see what you mean about not wanting to be in the house" he leant in close, his lips against her ear so she could hear him over the music. Zoe took a swig from her drink and nodded, conversation was hard work when you had to shout over the music, the bass reverberating up through the ground under their feet. Pulling her closer he dipped his head to her ear again "this music is shit. I hoped I wouldn't have to hear the boss' music ever again."
"Molly usually has it under control in an hour or so. She calls it the shock and awe phase of the party"
"Shock and bloody awful more like" he grinned down at her before taking another swig of his drink. His corner of his eye crinkled as he gave her a ghost of a lopsided grin. Desire flared inside her once more, if anything it had been stoked into a brighter flame after a day with him. For now she tried not to question it; enjoying the warmth of his body close to hers as she tried to talk with some of Charles' reserve colleagues through a mixture of shouting and lip reading. She spotted Molly across the garden with Smithy, she hadn't spoken to her since they arrived, merely nodding at each other across the garden.
Somewhere from the depths of the house the music was turned down and a collective cheer went up from the garden.
"Who the fuck turned that down?" Charles shouted, brandishing a set of oversized tongs from his position behind the barbecue.
"Someone with taste, boss" came a reply from a huddle of people nearest the house.
"You wouldn't know good music if it bit you on the arse, Penn. Molly! Did you turn that down, Molly?" Charles shouted towards the void of the house.
"I ain't in the house" Molly answered and a collective snigger rippled through the party guests. "Keep your hair on, I'll go take a butchers"
Sensing an opportunity to grab Molly alone Zoe handed her drink to Fingers and followed her inside. The cozily furnished room was empty, and despite the drop in the volume of the music it was still too loud to hold a conversation. Molly flicked off the music and another cheer went up from outside. Molly giggled "His music taste ain't never going to get better" She fiddled with the mp3 player, and music once again filled the room but at a lower volume. An indistinct shout was heard from outside but Molly ignored it, fiddling with the controls on the front of the stereo before looking at the backs of each speaker positioned either side of the patio doors.
"Looks like one of the speakers has packed up" she said heading back to the stereo. "Probably committed suicide rather than play any more of Charles 'shit music "
"Shame" Zoe grinned at her.
"Ain't it?" Molly's eyes twinkled cheekily.
Zoe reached out and squeezed Molly's hand "All OK Molls?" Molly's gaze dropped for a moment, and when she looked back up Zoe could see tears were starting to brim in her eyes. She gave Zoe's fingers a light squeeze back before dropping her hand. "They're better". She gave a weak lopsided smile. "He came back to me."
Zoe took a deep breath ready to launch into the speech that had been flying around her head all afternoon but then paused, remembering Fingers' words "You know where I am, alright?" she gave Molly a brief nod. "As a friend. No more Padre stuff, I promise"
"I think our agenda's gonna be taken up with you and laughing boy out there" Molly deflected Zoe's concern with an incline of her head towards the garden.
"It's just a bit of fun Molly"
"For you or him?"
"Both I hope. Anyway, he's back to Bulford tomorrow"
"Bulford ain't that far away, you know"
"It's just fun"
"Yeah, you tell yourself that. Well, until the clap clinic calls, that is" she grinned.
"Antibiotics are a wonderful thing" Zoe nudged her, "he'll be over it in a week or so"
At seven minutes to midnight Charles made his excuses and catching Fingers' eye he gave a curt nod before taking up position just outside the patio doors. Behind him the music dimmed, and then switched off. The conversation bubbling around him quieted, as everyone turned to look in his direction.
"Right, listen up you bunch of ungrateful bastards, before New Year is upon us I need to share a few thoughts with you." Charles' voice rang out over the garden. He may be addressing a party and not his men, but his tone, even when it was casual, hadn't stopped being commanding. His voice was clear, barely changed from the voice that had rung out across the dusty parade grounds of Bastion, or the craggy peaks of Helmand. Only the slightest fuzziness of the odd word here and there belied that he was a few drinks over his limit.
"Now I know that everyone here spends their whole year just waiting to enjoy yet another James and Dawes party. The company, the booze" cheers broke out and Charles lifted his hand to silence them "the excellent music," jeers and a few beer cans were thrown at him "and not forgetting the exceptionally handsome host" the roars grew deafening. "However, I have some sad news. This will be our last ever party," Silence descended over the group, Charles paused to allow the tension to build "as James and Dawes! Next year, providing you've all been good of course, the party will be held by Mr and Mrs James."
There was a perceptible beat of silence as his words took a moment to filter through heads fuzzed by alcohol and ears that were still ringing from music and conversation, and then came the roar of approval, rippling through the party goers. Somewhere from back of the garden Molly was pushed to the front, and reluctantly she made her way towards Charles, his arms holding her tightly by his side as she tried to shy away from the attention. Blushing crimson to the roots of her hair she glanced up at Charles. The grin on his face widened with the crescendo of voices, he glanced down, catching her eye and threw her the smallest of winks, hard to notice as his eyes crinkled with his smile.
Is that your proposal boss? Piped up one of Charles' reservists. "Yeah, coz it's a bit shit" added another.
Charles raised his arm, to quieten his guests "I know, you're all expecting me to go down on one knee, but truth be told, it was Dawsey here who caved first." his arm stayed firm around her shoulders tucked her against his side "Asking; no begging me to make an honest woman of her." Molly wriggled against his grip, looking up incredulously as his version of events. He continued to grin, revelling in the attention.
"Ain't you supposed to be the one doing the asking?" Fingers yelled, earning a dig in the ribs from Zoe.
"Fingers, Fingers, Fingers. This is the 21st century. Truthfully, I was about to ask, but Molly got there first,..." he paused a smile creeping across his face, "and as every gentleman knows, you should always let the lady get there first."
"Oi Oi!" A voice in the throng yelled, accompanied by laughter.
Molly blushed a deeper shade of red. "Ruddy prannet" she muttered barely audible over the swell of voices. Charles never relinquished his hold on her, she had stopped trying to escape the attention, his joy was infectious and she let herself be swept along in the shower of heckling.
"What did you say?" he asked, leaning down.
Molly raised her lips to his ear to make herself heard over the din "Bloody plonker"
He held her gaze, brown eyes twinkling in the dim light, his face creased and entirely happy with a grin that spread ear to ear. Dipping his head he spoke softly in her ear, "I think you mean yes."
1st January
The daylight had no business being so bright. It pierced a chink in the curtains and settled across Molly's face, sneaking under her eyelids. She had done her best to avoid it, turning over and throwing the duvet over her head, but it had grown so stuffy she had had to throw it off so she could breathe. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt swollen and like it might stick to her teeth unless she drank some water. She rolled over, her shoulders following her hips across the mattress, her head moving last. A volley of lights danced at the back of her eyeballs and a piercing pain crushed against her skull.
"I'm gonna die" she muttered, closing her eyes and waiting for the pitching and rolling of her stomach to subside. A clammy sweat swept over her body as she willed herself to keep as still as possible. Next to her Charles groaned and turned over, the mattress rolling under his weight.
"You gotta stop moving" Molly squeaked her dry lips cracking with the effort. Charles didn't even grunt, he was fast asleep again, oblivious to her pain. She laid still, listening to his breathing, shallow and nasal, until it caught somewhere at the back of his throat and a small snore started to rattle from him. The snore grew louder, and each exhale grated on her nerves until she couldn't bear it any longer. Ignoring her thumping head she quickly extended her leg under the covers, pushing against the back of his thigh. Charles moved slightly, his breath catching and deepening, the snore subsiding. Molly enjoyed the momentary peace before the familiar rattling started in the back of his throat again.
Too awake to fall back asleep Molly tentatively sat up. Her head was splitting, every movement setting off a wave of nausea and a dull spark of colours behind her eyes. Glancing across at the bedside table she thanked her drunken last night self for the glass of water she didn't remember putting there. Gulping it down, she revelled in its sweetness. Draining the last of it, she sat back and closed her eyes, feeling her body hydrate as the minutes passed.
She must have been dozing, propped up against the pillows, the next thing she was aware of was the heavy weight of Charles on her legs as he learnt across her.
"You drank all the water" he groaned.
"It's on my side" Molly replied. "Go get your own"
"That was my water. I only put it there because I had to manhandle your drunk carcass into bed"
"Bollocks you did"
"You were passed out when I finally got rid of the last of them. By the time I had you awake enough to take off your jeans I couldn't be arsed to move it. The least you could do is get me some more." he tilted his head as he looked at her, raising an eyebrow and giving her a little frown.
"Jesus, no need to turn on the puppy eyes." Molly pushed him off her legs, and swinging herself out of bed she made her way to the bathroom.
"You aren't getting it from the bathroom tap are you?" he called after her. A few moments passed before she came back carrying a full glass of water "Charles, you've drunk out of ditches on Salisbury Plain, I'm sure you'll survive a cup of water from the bathroom tap. If you don't like it you know where the kitchen tap is" she plonked the cup down on the table before climbing back under the covers.
A few moments later Charles' arm snuck around her waist and he pulled himself against her body. "I love it when you get all moody over nothing" he whispered dropping a kiss behind her ear "It's good to see I can still push those buttons"
Molly wriggled away from him "If you ain't gonna drink that water you can go downstairs and get me a cuppa" Charles chuckled, enjoying her bluster at his teasing.
Molly sat, nursing the cup of tea resting on her knee, the duvet scrunched around her legs. The liquid sloshed a little as the bed dipped and Charles climbed in beside her.
"Better now?"
She tentatively took a sip. The warm liquid settled in her stomach and didn't show any signs of wanting to come back up. She nodded. "Better"
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, with nothing but the sound of each other's breath for company.
"Good night?" asked Charles.
"Yeah" Molly sipped her tea. "Smithy seemed a bit quiet though, considering"
"Considering what?"
"Considering Zoe turned up with Fingers. Normally he's in there like a shot when there's some ammunition."
"Yes, that was interesting" Charles blew on his coffee "did you know about it?"
"I had a bit of a scooby. She was asking questions the other week. Zo likes to think she's subtle, but she ain't all that. She reckons is just a bit of fun and it'll all be over when he goes back."
Charles scoffed "Yeah, right"
"That's what I said"
He grinned at her over the rim of his coffee mug, holding her gaze before taking a sip. She grinned back.
"What?"
"Nothing" he carried on grinning
"What is it?"
After taking another sip Charles carefully put his cup down, shifting himself slightly so he angled his body towards hers.
"You didn't mind me announcing everything last night then?"
Molly gulped down a mouthful of hot tea, trying to suppress the coughing fit it set off.
"I know we talked about doing things differently"
Composing herself she replied, "Yeah, technically you ain't actually asked me so don't you think it's a bit previous to tell everyone"
"I thought about it." Charles shifted closer and drew a deep breath "I was going to, I had it all planned. I was going to ask when we were at yours, with your family all around. Then your Dad got the hump and stormed off, and,...well things didn't go to plan" he skipped over the details, still reluctant to broach the subject "but when I was back in Bath I realised something. I realised that it didn't matter. None of this who asks who matters. We're doing this because we want to. Who and how and what was said doesn't count for anything. Because it's just a question and I don't need to ask it any more than you do. We want this, both of us, so we decide. Together."
Molly looked down over the scrunched and crumpled duvet tucked against her legs; the dust motes floating lazily in the pale winter sun that streamed through the window. Time slowed, the silence of the room seemed to wrap around her as she realised the truth of his words. There was no need to ask or respond. Spending the rest of her life with him was never something she had questioned, not deep down. She had known it for years. Since they had stood on that bridge in the searing Afghan sun, the dust in her throat, the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream. She had known then as much as she knew now. That this was it.
Her stillness and silence threw Charles, mistaking it for reticence. He shifted, feeling uncomfortable, worrying he had misjudged the whole situation. Perhaps he had been wrong; maybe she did want a big gesture, the full movie script; down on on one knee in a crowded place. Perhaps this was just too low key, not special enough.
"Molly", his voice was tentative but it cut through the stillness of the room. "Are you OK?"
When she raised her eyes he could see tears brimming in them, caught on the edges of her lashes, not quite able to fall. She couldn't form the words she wanted to say and get them past the lump in her throat, instead she nodded, struggling to keep her emotions in check enough to smile weakly.
Charles let out the breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding, in one long shaking exhalation. The relief he felt that he hadn't misjudged her or himself seemed to flood from his body. He pulled Molly to him, feeling her arms stealing around him as he held her tight.
"Oh, thank god. I thought….." he didn't finish, his lips pressed against the top of her hair, smelling faintly of smoke.
"I meant it" he muttered softly against her, "I don't feel emasculated by not asking. The end result is what's important, and that's all I care about"
Molly pulled away a little, "I dunno if it's because I'm hungover or coz you're using words I don't understand, but I don't have a bleedin clue what you're banging on about"
Charles glanced down at her "Well some people might think that the man has to do the asking, but I don't feel any less of a man for being asked." He shrugged "my cojones are big enough to take being bossed around by a Doris"
"Oi!" Molly prodded his side causing him to flinch "Cheeky sod. Hang on, how do you cojones feel about buying a ring, coz I have me limits you know."
"Wait there" he kissed her fleetingly before turning over and throwing the covers off.
"Are you getting me a refill?" she teased holding out her empty mug. Charles pulled a t shirt over his head. He glanced back and grinned, his hair ruffled and sticking up slightly from the movement.
A second mug of tea was placed on the bedside table, the steam rose steadily from it, unnoticed by Molly who watched Charles walking casually across the room.
"It's brassic downstairs, someone left the window open." He climbed under the covers, his cold feet touched Molly's leg and she yelped from shock.
"Brassic's what we're gonna be with the heating on and windows open. For someone who reckons they talk proper you ain't got much of a clue"
Charles laughed at her mock indignation, cuddling up against her, trying to get her to warm his feet.
"Come on, warm me up" he wrapped his long legs around her.
"You're gonna need bed socks at this rate, old man. Or maybe some of them tartan slippers what Nan gets" she wriggled away and picked up her tea. "No more" she held her finger up to him "you don't want the tea all over the covers" she made a show of blowing on the warm liquid before taking a sip.
Charles sat up, leaning against a pillow propped against the headboard. He drew Molly towards him until she leant against him, her back against his torso, her head resting against his shoulder. He sighed contentedly as she slowly sipped her tea. Neither spoke.
As Molly drained the cup Charles' arm stole around, taking it from her. He replaced the cup with his hand, slowly he entwined his fingers with hers, gently turning and running his fingers through hers, allowing the tips to slowly bump over her knuckles, circling the bones of her wrist before stroking down to her fingertips.
Reaching down he lifted a small black velvet box and rested on her knee. Still holding her hand he spoke softly, Molly could feel his words rumble through his chest.
"Don't get excited. I get paid bugger all and I need to think of dress regulations" he said gruffly.
Molly spent a moment staring at the box. She reached out tentatively, lifting the lid slowly. Charles took the ring and gently pushed it onto her finger. A small diamond glittered in a circle of gold, set in a white gold band. Molly, still struggling to speak watched the light glitter on the small stone.
"This" Charles pointed to the diamond "was my grandmothers. This," his fingers circled the gold setting "and these" he touched the stud in her ear " were from your Nan, and this", he stroked the band "is from me. A little bit of everyone's history at the start of our future seems about right, don't you think?"
"It's beautiful" Molly touched it, almost in wonder. It wasn't flashy, it looked grown up, unpretentious. Subtle without being delicate, solid without being over the top. "Perfect"
"You know what Molly" he gripped her hand tightly, his fingers entwined with hers. Bringing her hand up he gently kissed her knuckle just below the ring "we're going to be fucking awesome."
