A/N:I know it's been quite a while since I left Charles in Bath as Molly went back home and I felt the need to pop back into my S1 bubble for an update. I know it's a bit angsty but what happened to Smurf was angsty and had consequences … It doesn't mean I've abandoned the family at the Barn, I will be back there in a few days … thanks as usual for the support from everyone, and special thanks to Flossy who always asks the right questions

-OG-

It had been such a good day up till then. She'd been so bloody incredibly, unbelievably happy, all the way home on the train she'd been ecstatic, grinning at people she didn't know, her head bursting full of the Boss, or Charles as she had to remember to call him, had been full of everything about him, everything he'd said and well, waking up next to him and every minute of the time they'd spent together. Talking and laughing with him at the restaurant and then walking back to his, well to his parents' gaffe when he'd said he'd thought as much about her as she had about him. That he loved her. Well, that was what he'd said anyway, and unlikely as that seemed, one thing she was sure of was that she wanted desperately for him to mean it. She wanted to believe him. If anyone had told her beforehand how it was going to work out with him, she'd have told them to stop talking bollocks. That he was always going to be way out of her league.

But this was the east end. It was always bloody noisy, as far back as she could remember there'd been police cars and ambulances and fire engines racing through the streets with sirens blaring and their blue lights flashing, but she'd never really given it much thought about how much of a relief it was to see them when they turned up because when you were in deep shit. Nor had she ever imagined the sheer bloody relief when you could stand back like she'd stood back and let them take over doing what they could to resuscitate whoever was down. Although in her heart of bloody hearts she'd known it wasn't going to make any odds them working their socks off doing all that, giving him oxygen and carrying on with the CPR she'd started wasn't going to make a scrap of difference. Nothing was, because hard as they tried, she'd known it wasn't going to happen.

"Full name?"

There was this middle-aged woman with white hair sitting behind the desk looking at her over her glasses with an impatient expression on her face, she kept asking her things she didn't understand, what did they need her name for?

"Do you have his full name, dear?"

The woman had her fingers poised over her keyboard as she looked at Molly with her eyebrows raised. Waiting. She was talking to her like she was talking to a moron, and Molly realised she'd asked her that several times already but was still having to concentrate hard on breathing and swallowing, just like when she'd been in the back of the ambulance, she was doing everything she could to keep herself from throwing up.

"Oh … yeah … ummm … sorry … it's… ummm … it's Dylan … his name's Dylan Smith"

"Middle name?"

"What?"

"Did he have a middle name dear?"

DID? Did she just say did he? Not … does he? Did that mean it was definite? That they hadn't managed to get him back?

"Dunno … don't think so …" Molly wanted to scream how the fuck would she know whether he'd got a middle name or not and anyway what did it matter, his name was Smurf and all that mattered was was he dead or not?

"And do you have his date of birth?"

"Nah … I dunno …" She probably did know or at least had some clue when it was his birthday, she was sure they'd all of them talked about birthdays one night, but her brain wouldn't let her think straight. He was older than her, that much she did know, but not much, he was 22 next birthday or maybe he was 22 already and 23 next, she couldn't remember. He was too bloody young to be dead was all she knew.

The woman was still asking her all this stuff, whether she knew about his next of kin and whether she knew his home address and all that, and Molly wanted to yell that she didn't have a bloody clue, apart from knowing that he lived with his mum in Newport, and that his name was Smurf, nothing else. It had been six months, and she didn't know, that they'd have to ask him. Except she knew only too well that they couldn't.

He was her best mate and she was never going to hear him call her Dawsey again in that stupid sing-song voice of his, she was never going to get angry with him and call him a wanker for all that shit about them being a couple and was never going to take the piss out of him for being the best recruit at Catterick ever again. They weren't going to Vegas, she wasn't going to get all dressed up like a hooker in that tarty red dress he'd bought for her to wear.

After a few very long minutes and a lot of talking to herself she finally managed to pull herself together enough to remember that she was supposed to be a professional for fuck sake, that she was a medic who had been trained to deal with this sort of thing, and that she needed to tell them that Smurf was army. She should also tell them that he'd just been in the QE recovering from being shot, but by the time her brain co-operated enough to let find the right words, the woman had pissed off to do whatever, after pointing to the chairs where Molly could park her bum and wait. If that was what she wanted. That it was up to her. And stupidly as she was left standing on her own by the desk, Molly had felt incredibly left out. As if she'd done her bit and was now surplus and in the way and could piss off if she wanted, all of which was true, they didn't need her.

Brilliant? That's what he'd said she was, but she wasn't being brilliant, was she? She was being worse than fucking useless. Her brain seemed wrapped in the layers of cotton wool that she knew from her training was down to shock, but she couldn't stop shivering.

The cheeks of her bum eventually went numb from sitting on a hard plastic chair for what felt like hours and hours in a noisy draughty corridor. She couldn't just leave, and the woman knew she was still there so Molly just kept sitting there waiting for someone to come and tell her what was going on. The walls were sort of grubby, painted cream and the lino on the floor was cracked, worn thin in the middle from the wheels of the endless clattering trollies and the constant stream of people going backwards and forwards, some rushing and some chatting and laughing to each other as they went, none of them taking any notice of her at all. They were obviously well used to random people just sitting there, waiting. She seemed somehow to have a plastic cup in her hand from somewhere, someone had obviously been kind and had got her a cup of tea from the machine, but she appeared to have forgotten about it because by the time she went to drink some, it was stone bloody cold with scum on the top. She hadn't got a scoobie who'd given it to her now, all she hoped was that she'd remembered to thank them, but couldn't bloody swear to it. Now she was just half watching the people buzzing about being busy doing, well whatever it was they did, while she just carried on sitting getting more and more cold and numb, and starting to wonder whether they'd forgotten all about her.

She was trying not to think about how she could have done more, or at least done things a bit different, how she could have maybe done something that could have saved him, even though there was a little voice in her head telling her that she'd known the instant he'd hit the deck. Before she'd even started to run across the pitch to get to him on legs that were like lead, she'd known. And it wasn't as if she hadn't seen dead people before, there had been bodies in Afghan, but that had been different, it had all been part of being caught up in a war zone and anyway she hadn't known them. They'd been strangers, even Rolex Boy, she'd only ever seen him once before, so hadn't really known him. And Smurf keeling over had been nothing like when she'd been desperately doing everything she could to keep the Boss alive, all that had mattered in the middle of all that chaos had been stopping him bleeding out because that was everything, anything else had been bloody unthinkable. And yeah, Smurf had been shot, he'd been shot twice, and twice he'd got up and almost walked away, it was like Lady Luck had given him nine lives so how the fuck could he have been laughing and shouting and showing off on the pitch at Upton Park one minute and dead the next? How did that happen? And Smurf hadn't been bleeding, had he?

And now she was going to have to be the one to call and tell the Boss. He needed to know, he'd want to know, but even the thought of getting off the chair, standing up and walking anywhere, getting rid of the cold tea and finding some way to get outside was beyond her. So she carried on waiting for someone to come and tell her that Smurf was dead.

-OG

When she'd finally got herself outside, she'd expected it to be dark, it felt like it should be but it wasn't, it was still bright and sunny even though Molly felt like she'd been sitting on that chair for hours. Waiting. She desperately wanted something to lean against because her legs didn't seem to quite belong to her, and moved away from the big blue sign telling people it was A&E and not to park in the Ambulance Bay if they didn't want to get towed and found a bit of wall where she could see from the fag ends was where the smokers usually congregated. But no-one seemed in need, so it was deserted as she took a deep breath and scrolled through the contacts on her phone. She didn't want to, but this felt like something she had to do, she had to hear her voice say out loud the words that were in her head before she rang Charles to tell him, she needed a practise run. But then as soon as Brains answered she didn't know quite where to even start.

"Well, well, if it isn't our hero medal winner … hello Dawsey … how the fuck are you?"

He obviously had his hand half over his phone as he cheerfully shouted at the rest of the lads. They were in a bar, she could hear the background of a typical 2 Section god-awful boozed-up racket. Everyone was there and as usual they all seemed to be talking and yelling and laughing and trying to be heard at the same time as no-one paid any attention to what anyone else was saying.

"Shui the fuck up you lot …put a bloody sock in it, will you? It's Mrs Smurf … 'n I can't hear" His voice got louder as he obviously moved the phone back in front of his mouth "Sorry Moll, if you're looking for the old bugger I'm afraid he's not here…" And once again his voice faded as he moved the phone away and shouted above the racket "Anyone know where old Smurfy is? Got his missus on here looking for him"

"Yeah … I know he's not … sorry …" Before she could get another word out, all the pain and confusion and utter shock of the violence of the last few hours meant she could hear she was speaking with the uneven tone of someone who was desperately trying not to break up crying.

"You alright Moll?" Brains made loud shushing noises at the others, he sounded worried "You sound like you're crying … what's up?"

"Nah …. Nah I'm not … course I'm not … I don't cry, you know that … it's just … it's Smurf … he's … well, he's dead"

"What? What did you just say? Dead?" He held the phone away and yelled at the others again to shut the fuck up so that he could hear her a bit better "How do you mean, he's dead?" He sounded shocked "How can he be dead? What's he gone and done now?"

"They told me it was likely a brain haemorrhage … you know that he was bleeding inside his head … well, that's what they think it looks like anyhow but they won't know for definite till they 've 'ad a proper look … but that's all they'd tell me, I'm not 'is next of kin …so … it was just … you know, one minute he was fine … just messin' like normal … 'n next he wasn't … no warning, nothin'"

Except the voice in her head was telling her that wasn't true, was it? He'd been acting pretty bloody strange for ages, had been gobbing off about stuff, talking shit and just generally being not like himself and she'd had a lot of time to think about it while she'd been sitting on that chair, about the way he'd been complaining about his bloody headache. Had even said he thought he should go and get his eyes tested to see if he needed glasses and she was supposed to be a medic for fuck sake, she'd been with him two minutes before he dropped, so how come she hadn't seen there was something going wrong with him? Because she'd been too busy thinking about the Boss, crushing on him to notice, that was how come. She'd been with Smurf but had been thinking about Charles and there'd been no room to think about anything else, anyone else, that was why.

She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to control the gasping tone of someone who had tears and snot pouring down her face while she was doing everything she could to try not to let the other person hear that she was in bits. That she was crying.

"Where are you Moll?" Suddenly Brains sounded as if he was sobering up fast, surrounded by the sort of silence from the lads that told her they were all listening. That their noise was a thing of the past "Are you back home?"

"Nah … I'm still here … sorry, I mean still at the 'ospital, I'm waiting for his mum to get 'ere" Molly gulped, her vision was still blurred from tears and she was suddenly wiped out, overwhelmed with feeling exhausted, she had no idea how long she'd been there, it just felt like hours. Or days.

"They told me the army has dealt with getting in touch and that she's on her way … but … it's gonna take her a while, innit? 'n I don't know if she'll be on her own or what …but I don't feel like I can leave him 'ere on his own … or for her to get 'ere and find …"

"Fuck … which hospital?"

"The London … Royal London … why?"

"Where's that?"

"Whitechapel …" Suddenly Molly knew why he was asking, he was intending to shift his drunken arse onto a train and come up and tind her to hold her hand or something, which was dead lovely of him but which would almost certainly be a total disaster. Hospitals are not that keen on drunks unless they're there as patients when they have to put up with them, and when they're seen as a pain in the bloody arse.

"Yeah look … thanks mate, I really do appreciate it, but … I am okay … really I am … there's nothin' you can do and anyway … by the time anyone got 'ere I'd most likely be gone … I'll call you later on, okay?"

"Well … If you're sure? But you got to promise me you'll call if you need … well, you know …?"

"Yeah… I know and I will, promise"

"And Moll … I'm dead sorry … we all are … never thought there was anything wrong with him, old sicknote … not really, nothing serious … it was just he liked being centre of attention … well … you know what he's like … I mean… what he was like … oh fuck …"

"I know …"

Her bloody stomach had started making all these grumbling noises, growling as it did its best to remind her that she hadn't had anything since eating toast sitting on Charles' lap at his mums' kitchen table. About a bleeding lifetime ago. And she didn't understand how the fuck she could even be thinking about food when Smurf was somewhere through those doors, dead. How could she be hungry?

-OG-

It took her a while to find the loos so she could have a pee and wash her face and try to get rid of the tear stains best she could, she needed to try to get herself ready to call him. There was a bit of her wished more than anything that he was there with her to put his arms round her and take over, to see what needed to be done and get on and do it. But that wasn't going to happen, and despite her wanting desperately to re-capture all those feelings she'd had before any of this bloody nightmare, that wasn't going to happen either. She couldn't even remember what it had felt like to be that happy when all she felt now was like there was someone with very cold hands scooping bits out of the bottom of her stomach. When she forced herself to lift her head and look in the mirror, she was so bloody pale it wouldn't surprise her if they decided she needed one of their beds, or maybe even a slab in their morgue, she looked like a bloody ghost. Her hair was all hanging down like string and there were these awful dark smudges under her eyes which looked like her mascara had run, but it hadn't. Her eyes were red-rimmed and so swollen she had a hard job even opening them. She looked like shit.

On that train coming home she'd thought it was going to be all about living her best life. It wasn't that she believed in love exactly, not the fairy tale happy ever after shit of books nor did she believe about being a Disney princess or anything, she didn't really believe in any of that, which was just as well now she was standing there looking at someone who looked a lot like her except for a hell of a lot uglier and realised that she'd fucked it up again. She'd let herself get all carried away with it all when actually it had been a one-night stand maybe even two that she'd turned into something it could never be. She hadn't even been able to think about introducing him to her mum and dad, let alone her Nan, what had she been thinking? That she was going to have a life with him, all hearts and flowers and Disney bluebirds flying about but with never telling anyone about him? Keeping him away from her family? How was that supposed to work? And he'd never lied to her, had he? He'd told her enough times that he was her boss and they couldn't, well that they shouldn't and alright maybe it wasn't exactly like that anymore, he wasn't strictly her boss now they were back, but nothing else had changed, had it? He was still him and she was her, so what did she think she was doing? She hadn't been starring in some sort of Cinderella thing with him as Prince Charming, she'd slept with him. When Smurf had been on his way up to hers to give her that fucking horrible red dress, and to make arrangements for Vegas she'd been in Bath, had spent the night in his bed and had then been wearing his shirt and calling his mum Flora, she'd been telling herself all sorts of crap, hadn't she? Altering what was real to suit her and she hadn't even told any of her lot where she was going, or where she'd been when she got back. What was it called now? Building castles in the air.

"Hey … hello you … I didn't think … what's wrong?"

"He's dead …"

Fuck. As soon as he answered she'd just opened her trap and blurted it out. So much for practising what she was going to say, for doing a dummy run to make sure she sounded all mature and calm, so much for being what he wanted her to be. She tilted her had back and looked up at the sky, willing the tears not to start again.

"Sorry … yeah … hello … ummm … it's me …. sorry …" She gulped and took a deep breath, making a huge effort to get her voice under control so that she would sound as much like her normal self as she could manage "Ummm … sorry, it's Smurf … I mean, Smurf is … he's dead"

-OG-