Chapter 5

May 2019

London, United Kingdom

I stifled a yawn as the train pulled into Euston Station. Instead of making the usual train journey from Birmingham to London to visit my family, I had been ordered to London by Bones.

My latest mission involved attending a garden party with Bones tomorrow afternoon at some snobbish golf club in Surrey. Bones had insisted, in his usual arrogant arsehole fashion, that I meet him in London a day early to prepare. The party was to be hosted by one of the curtain twitchers, otherwise known as Lieutenant General White.

"Good morning, poppet," I stepped onto the train platform and was surprised to find Bones waiting for me.

"I thought I was meeting you at your mate's place?"

"I seem to recall a saucy little madam informing me that 'proper' boyfriends meet their girlfriends at the station. No grotty dogsbodies today."

"I'm not so sure about this 'proper' boyfriend rubbish, but you're definitely not looking grotty today, Bones," I observed with sarcasm, taking in his tight, straight-legged jeans, black cashmere jumper, a partially unbuttoned white button-down shirt underneath it, black Chelsea styled boots, and black wayfarer sunglasses. For someone who seemed perfectly comfortable getting his hands dirty in the jungle, Bones certainly dressed rather posh when he wasn't on duty.

"Just because you cannot be arsed at making yourself look presentable, Dawesey, doesn't mean your better half is about to let his standards slip."

"Piss off, Bones," I rolled my eyes as Bones reached for my duffel bag and rucksack.

"Oi!" I protested. "Get your grubby hands off my kit."

"Not going to happen, poppet. I can't have you accusing me of being crap at this whole boyfriend thing again. I'm afraid you're stuck putting up with me carrying your kit," Bones declared with a smug look in his eyes.

-X-

"Are we in Mayfair?" I asked, as our taxi turned into the affluent London district, which was a far cry from Newham.

"Astute as ever, Dawesey."

"Why are we stopping?" I questioned once the taxi pulled up in front of what appeared to be a posh hair salon.

"You have an appointment, poppet."

"An appointment for what?"

"With my mate, Max."

"And what is this Max bloke going to do to me?" I was a bit leery at the thought of what Bones had planned.

"That, poppet, is for you to find out," Bones informed, taking my hand and leading me out of the taxi.

-X-

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in," a brown-haired man, wearing distressed jeans, and a black button-down shirt greeted Bones.

"Piss off, tosser," Bones smirked, before giving the man a hug. I hadn't pegged Bones as the hugging type.

"Is this your infamous 'fake' girlfriend?"

"That's right, mate. Max, this Dawesey. Dawesey, Max." Bones introduced.

"Hiya," I offered a weak smile before holding out my hand in an effort to be polite.

"Nice to meet you, Dawesey," Max returned my handshake.

"Max is the owner of this fine establishment. He claims to be the best hairdresser in all of London, but I suspect he's taking the piss out of me with that load of bollocks."

"Wanker," Max rolled his eyes at Bones. "So, what am I doing today for Dawesey?"

"Haircut, treatment, blow dry and whatever else you think is necessary for her hair to look immaculate for her debut in front of the curtain twitchers tomorrow."

"I didn't realize I needed a hairdresser," I scowled at Bones, annoyed that he was dictating what Max should do with my hair.

"Since you insist on keeping it in that infernal plait all the time, one can only assume there's a problem with it," Bones retorted as Max looked on with interest.

"There's nothing wrong with my bleeding hair, you smug bastard."

"How do you reckon I would know when I have yet to see it out of its damned plait."

"I'm not paying two hundred quid for a haircut," I complained.

"You're not, I've got this covered, Dawesey. Now do I need to write you up on a charge, poppet, or are you going to bloody cooperate?"

"Do I have a choice?" I sighed in irritation. I only hoped that Max knew what he was doing. I didn't want to look like some trollop or a bloody Kardashian for that matter.

"Now Max, no mucking about with Dawesey's hair. If you so much as colour it or do anything drastic to it, I will gladly demonstrate the capabilities of my new UCIW, and there will be nothing Jack can do to save your sorry arse," he threatened.

"Noted, arsehole. Although, I must confess, your new UCIW sounds hot."

"Believe me, that will be the last thing you'll be thinking when I shove it up your arse. Now, remember what I said, no…"

"I think it's time for you to sod off, mate," Max cut him off. "Leave Dawesey in my capable hands. I've got this."

-X-

"So, Dawesey, do you have a Christian name?" Max asked once Bones had left.

"Molly."

"All right if I call you that? I'm not into the whole treat everyone like a soldier routine like Bones."

"Of course you can call me Molly," I smiled. "May I assume that since you like to be on a first name basis with people that you know what Bones's actual name is?"

"I wish I could help you there, Molly, but I actually have no idea what his given name is."

"Seriously?"

"I can assure you; I am not taking the piss out of you. I tried asking when we first met, but was informed by Bones and my husband that it is classified."

"Bloody typical," I rolled my eyes.

"Now tell me, Molly, how did Bones snooker you into pretending to be his girlfriend? Jack and I are dying to know."

"Jack?"

"My husband, who just happens to be Bones's best mate."

"Oh."

"So, is he paying you or fucking you?"

"You're a bit presumptuous there, mate. I'm not sure whether I should be insulted or flattered. However, to answer your rather boorish question, it's neither."

"Even more intriguing. You have to realize Bones is utter crap when it comes to the female species. The only thing he knows how do with them is…"

"I'm well aware of the fact that Bones possesses the rank of a Four-Star Manwhore," I interrupted, not wanting to hear about his prowess in the bedroom.

"That's a brilliant nickname, Molly! I cannot wait to pass that one along to Jack," Max laughed.

"It's the truth, and yes, I would have to agree that your mate is absolutely crap in the boyfriend department. However, one area he does excel in is emotional blackmail."

"Oh my! Now this I have to hear," Max insisted.

-X-

"Since I have suffered through your endless interrogation, I think it's only fair that I get to ask you the questions now," I indicated as Max trimmed my split ends.

"I suppose it's only fair," Max shrugged.

"How long have you known Bones?"

"At least ten years, and no, you're not the only one to wonder what a toss-pot action man is doing being mates with a queer hairdresser."

"Given that Bones hates just about everyone regardless of their sexual orientation or race, I would like to think he's an equal opportunity arse when it comes to the human race."

"You've got cheek, Molly," Max smiled.

"How did you meet Bones?"

"I met him when I started dating Jack. As I mentioned before, they are best mates and they go way back. They attended Gordonstoun together and then after Uni, they attended Sandhurst together. Jack works for the Ministry of Defence, which enables us to be based in London for my salon. Bones was Jack's best man in our wedding two years ago."

"Gordonstoun," I mused. "That can only mean one thing. He is a bloody Rupert!" I realized. I had been suspicious for a few weeks. Knowing that he had gone to the independent boarding school favoured by certain royal family members and the aristocracy was definite confirmation of my instincts.

"He'll never own up to it, but yes, I suppose you could classify him as one," Max confirmed. "He's not a bad bloke, though, even if he is a bit posh. As I am sure you have realized, he can be a real pain in the arse as well as a bit of a nutter at times, but as a mate he really is the dog's bollocks."

-X-

"You might actually be the 'best' hairdresser in London," I surmised once Max had completed my blow-dry and had added finishing spray to my hair. Max had removed my split ends and transformed my lacklustre hair into a glossy mane of silken hair that made me feel like I could be in an advert for a posh brand of shampoo.

"You have gorgeous hair, Molly. Styling your hair is an absolute pleasure. In fact, many women would kill for your hair."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Perfect timing. The Four-Star Manwhore has returned just in time to see the finished result," Max noted as Bones sauntered into the salon, carrying a garment bag. "Well, hello there, wanker," he greeted Bones. "Am I not the best hair dresser in London?" he asked, gesturing toward my hair.

"Certainly, the most cocky," Bones muttered, before giving me a cursory look. He did not seem the least bit interested in seeing what I looked like with my hair down. It made me wonder what his complaints about my plait had truly been about.

"Well?" Max demanded.

"She'll do," Bones shrugged, staring down at his watch.

"She'll do?" Max scoffed, while I could not help but feel a bit hurt by his lack of praise. "With responses like that, it is no wonder you need a fake girlfriend. I for one think Molly looks bloody gorgeous!"

"Thank you," I beamed at Max. At least one man appreciated my appearance, even if he was gay.

-X-

An hour later, I was seated next to Bones in the dining room of Max and Jack's four bedroomed terraced house in Belgravia. We were having a light lunch with Jack Sinclair whom Bones had introduced to me as his best mate. I was curious to know more about their friendship and whether it was anything like the bond that he had shared with Elvis.

"Max mentioned you were at Gordonstoun together. Is that where you met?"

"Yes, it was at the start of Year 9. We've been best mates since ever since," Jack responded.

"Was he as much of a git then as he is now?"

"You are just as cheeky as Bones implied," Jack chuckled.

"I'll take that as confirmation."

"You wound me, Dawesey," Bones mocked.

"Quit whinging you bleeding, Rupert."

"Oi! What's with calling me a bloody Rupert?" Bones demanded.

"I dunno? Perhaps it's your Gordonstoun education? Or the fact that you dress like a bit of a toff? Then there's your posh Range Rover. Don't forget your well-to-do gaff in Hereford."

"Since when is it a crime to live comfortably, Dawesey?"

"Then there is this nonsense about your first name being 'classified' or some such rubbish."

"You seem overly obsessed with my name."

"A normal person wouldn't get all aggroed about sharing their bleeding name. The only logical explanation is that you clearly have some sad-arsed first name like Archibald."

"I can assure you, it is anything but Archibald."

"If not Archibald, then it's got to be another bloody aristocratic twat of name like Chadwick or Reginald. I think that you are afraid that if your squaddies knew you were a minted bloke with a silver spoon stuffed up your arsehole they might lose respect for you."

"You're fucking delusional, Dawesey. Who gives a fuck if I went to Gordonstoun?

I'll have you know it's a brilliant school and I would not be half the solider I am today if I hadn't been a pupil there."

"He does have a point," Jack offered.

"That doesn't change the fact that you are a Rupert."

"That's a load of waffle and you know it, Dawesey. I will also have you know that I do not, in fact, dress like a bloody toff."

"Then why did Max tell me you were visiting Saville Row while he was cutting my hair?"

"I was visiting my tailor," Bones responded in exasperation.

"Case in point."

"She's got you there, mate," Jack laughed.

"Well excuse me if I don't want to look like a fucking chav when we attend the Queen's Garden Party next week."

"Like you could ever look like a chav," I scoffed. "You have still yet to convince me that you are not a Rupert."

"I've just about had enough of your verbal diarrhoea for one afternoon, Dawesey."

"Your point being?"

"Fine," Bones scowled at me, his green eyes icing over. "If you really want to know why I am not a Rupert, I will gladly explain. Perhaps after I explain you will stop being such a daft cow."

"Bones," Jack warned as if he could sense his best mate was about to explode.

"Not now, Jack. By not shutting her fucking gob, and carrying on with her class warfare diatribe, Dawesey here has asked for it."

"By all means, then, do carry on," I invited with deep sarcasm.

"Yes, I come from an upper-class family and I am not ashamed of it. The fact that my family has a bit of coin has never and will never have any influence on my abilities as a solider. As for my squaddies, I could give a fuck if they know about my bank balance. It means nothing to them. As for this Rupert bollocks you keep lobbing at me, I can assure you I am not Rupert. You see, Dawesey, being a Rupert is not just about being a well-off Officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces, it's also about demonstrating a keen ineptitude as a soldier, something I clearly lack," Bones began in a scathing tone. "When I think of all of the extraordinary Ruperts I have encountered during my tenure with the army, I cannot help but think of one that you are already so well acquainted with…"

"Don't do this, Bones," Jack interrupted sternly.

"Stay out of this, Jack. It's time Dawesey learned some home truths," he sneered in response.

"Are you really going to do this?" I glared at Bones.

"Oh, I'm doing this, Dawesey. In fact, I think it's the least I can do. For you to even suggest that I am a Rupert and anything like your 'beloved' ex-finance, isn't just a mere insult, it is an outright declaration of war. That you could sink so slow as to even think that I could be put in the same category as that disgrace of a man is completely and utterly appalling. Unlike James, I have earned my place in the SAS. Instead of riding on my daddy's frock coat tails like he did, I have worked my bloody arse off to prove myself. While he lacks any legitimate talent as a soldier, and has tarnished his career with one clanger after another, I have an impeccable record. As for his conduct, well, I don't fuck my medics…"

"Are you finished?" I demanded, rapidly becoming furious.

"Yet even when he leaves his career in shambles, and leaves me to fix his cock-ups, he still manages to have Daddy and Uncle Beck save his sad-arse. So rather than receiving the court martial he so desperately deserves and having his arse dishonourably discharged, your darling arsemonger is swanning about NATO like he owns the place. And that, Dawesey, is why I am not a bloody Rupert," Bones finished, having demonstrated just what a nasty piece of work he truly was.

"Thank you for the enlightening lecture, Captain McClyde. I must say it has certainly changed my view of Ruperts. Had I known that Ruperts were ruthlessly skilled at wounding their opponents with such cheap shots, I would have pegged you as a Rupert a long time ago. You might be an arsehole, but I never took you for being so fucking cruel. You see, Bones, you may think you are better than him, but you're not. You're just as bloody heartless as he is," I declared before storming out of the dining room in fury.

-X-

"This is certainly awkward," I was seated in Max & Jack's garden on a wooden swing when Jack came out to join me.

"I hope he's pleased with himself," I muttered, kicking at the ground under my feet.

"More like bewildered. You confuse him, Dawesey." Jack revealed.

"Confuse him? That's bloody unlikely. I suspect that I am the only pitiable cow he could convince to go along with his lame-ass scheme. Unfortunately for him, my gob drives him proper mad. If I had known that calling him a bleeding Rupert would cause him to go mad as a bag of ferrets, I certainly would have dropped the whole bloody thing. He didn't have to act like such a manky prick about it, though. Why does he have to be so damn infuriating?"

"It's the way he is. The trick is not to take his ear bashing to heart. He doesn't mean half of what he says. Believe, me, I wouldn't be his mate if that were truly the case. Unfortunately, you hit bit of a nerve with the whole Rupert business."

"Obviously," I sighed, annoyed that I had let Bones get under my skin and had given him the opportunity to use my past as a weapon against me.

"All Bones has ever wanted to do since the first day I met him was to be in the SAS, or The Regiment as we call it. He never wanted to be a solicitor like his father or a 'gentleman farmer' so to speak. Bones tends to view his family's wealth as a hinderance more than a convenience. Ever since Gordonstoun he has only wanted to be judged on his accomplishments rather than his money. He never wanted to be seen as some useless toff buying his way into an Officer's rank. He finds the idea of being a Rupert utterly abhorrent and views it as the ultimate insult. To Bones, serving Queen and Country are an honour and he believes that rank should be awarded upon merit, and merit alone."

"My mouthing off and not leaving the whole Rupert rubbish alone must have made him think that I was questioning his merits as an Officer."

"Which he takes very personally. Perhaps, too personally. He should never have lashed out at you the way he did, but he can be a bit over-the-top if he feels his abilities as an Officer are being questioned. The problem with Bones is that he is so bloody good at what he does that he takes himself far too seriously," Jack rolled his eyes.

"So, what next? If he were a normal bloke, I would apologize, but he didn't need to be so loathsome about everything. He also owes me an apology."

"I think what's best is for us to continue on with our plans for the day. Max has a very special treat planned for you, that I hope you will enjoy. I on the other hand, will be taking a certain 'loathsome' Captain to my gentleman's club where I plan to hand his arse to him on the squash court. After, I promise to do my very best to get him shitfaced. I suspect then, he'll be more reasonable, and then you can both apologize to one another."

"Sounds like a plan," I felt relieved that I would not have to deal with Bones for the remainder of the afternoon.

"Oh, and Dawesey, it's not as bad as Archibald."

"What's not as bad as Archibald?"

"His name," Jack smirked before turning back toward the house.

-X-

Several hours later, I was visiting my Mum, Nan, and the little bleeders at their council estate in Newham. Dave of course was doing what he did best, which meant he was off getting pissed at the pub.

After my epic row with Bones, my afternoon had turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Max had returned from the salon with his good mate, and personal wardrobe stylist, Gemma. Gemma possessed a wonderfully bubbly personality and had brought a variety of frocks and accessories in my size that were also tailored with my short-arse in mind. The three of us had an enjoyable time trying out different looks until we had found the perfect ensembles for tomorrow's garden party as well as the Queen's Garden Party the following week. She also insisted I wear one of the frocks I had liked to Afternoon Tea with Max.

Afternoon Tea with Max had turned out to be quite an event. Bones had apparently mentioned to Max that he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable with the various Stepford wives we would encounter tomorrow and had asked him to give me some suggestions to help me feel more confident. Max had decided to use this as an opportunity for us to have Afternoon Tea at The Ritz, especially when he planned to have Bones foot the bill.

The Ritz had been magical and we had thoroughly enjoyed the Champagne Afternoon Tea in the famous Palm Court. There we had indulged on what Max claimed was only the best champagne along with freshly cut finger sandwiches, warm baked scones with clotted cream and strawberry preserves, followed by a delectable selection of cakes and pastries. While dining, Max had given me some etiquette tips to make feel that I could hold my own with any of the Stepford wives. He also explained to me what I should expect at next week's Buckingham Palace Garden Party.

After the etiquette lesson, we had great fun people watching and having a laugh at some of the old biddies at the Palm Court. I hadn't had this much proper fun in quite some time.

From there we had returned to Max and Jack's where I had decided I didn't want to wait in the confines of their well-appointed home for Bones to return. Instead, I changed into jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and my chucks and decided that I would take the tube to Newham where I promptly surprised my family.

"I'm so glad you stopped by tonight, Molls," my Mum said for what seemed like the twentieth time since I had arrived.

"I didn't want to say anything about being in London in case I didn't have time to visit. Schedules are always tight, especially with army conferences." I lied, having claimed to be in London to attend a medical conference hosted by the MoD.

"Either way, it's lovely to see you," my Mum smiled as we shared a cuppa.

"You've been too much of a stranger," Nan chided, and she was right. Ever since the whole wedding fiasco, I had felt uncomfortable around Nan and my parents. Throughout my relationship with him, I had always sensed a certain scepticism on their part. While they never voiced it, I knew deep down they thought I was never going to be good enough for him, even with a nursing degree from Uni along with a Military Cross. When he finally did jilt me, it almost seemed as if they had expected him to do it all along. For these reasons, I had kept my visits to Newham brief and at a minimum.

"Molls, come see my new Lego," my youngest brother, Martin called out to me, conveniently interrupting me from my thoughts.

-X-

An hour later Martin and I were deeply engrossed in a heated game of Candy Land with Nan when there was a knock on the front door.

"This better not be your father when he bloody well has a key," my Mum muttered.

"It's only half past nine, mum. Still plenty of time for Dave to be at the pub."

"You have a point there, Molls," Mum agreed as she went to open the door.

-X-

"Is Molly here?" A familiar voice drawled from the entryway.

"Bones?" I got up from the sitting room floor where we had been playing the game and walked over to him as my mum looked on with curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

"Max mentioned you had decided to visit your family, and I wanted to make sure that you got back safely."

"Oh." I didn't quite know what to make of this. The last person I had expected to see was Bones calmly standing in the doorway of my parents' maisonette dressed casually in jeans, a tight-fitting black t-shirt, and black combat style boots.

"Molls, aren't you going to invite your mate in?" Mum inquired.

"Uh…" I hesitated.

"Thank you, Mrs. Dawes, I would love to come inside."

-X-

"So, Captain McClyde, are you attending the conference with Molls?" Mum asked once she had insisted on making Bones a cuppa and we were seated at our kitchen table which had seen better days.

"Ma'am, I insist you call me Bones."

"Bones?"

"It's his army nickname," I elaborated stiffly, not entirely sure what Bones was up to now.

"I would love to know how you got that," Nan chimed in.

"To answer your question, Ma'am, yes I am here in London attending the same conference as Molly."

"You're quite fit for a doctor," Nan gave Bones a flirtatious grin.

"He's not…"

"The Army requires its doctors to maintain a certain level of fitness," Bones cut me off.

"Do you work with Molly at Queen Elizabeth, Bones?" Mum inquired.

"No, most of my work is in support of our overseas operations. I tend to be deployed to the various hot spots around the world."

"Sounds exciting," Nan continued her shameless attempts at flirtation.

"It can be. However, tomorrow will be fairly dull. With that in mind, we should probably head back, Dawesey," Bones stood up from his chair.

"Uh, right," I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding him now.

-X-

"What the bloody hell was all that about?" I demanded once we had said goodbye to my family and were walking down the steps to the street.

"I told you, I didn't want you making your way back to Belgravia by yourself. It's not safe here for you to be walking alone or riding the tube for that matter."

"Not safe? I fucking spent the first eighteen years of my life here. I think I know what's safe and not safe in Newham. I can bloody well take care of myself."

"Let me be the judge of that," Bones responded as we reached the street.

"Is that your Rover?" I demanded, shocked to see his Range Rover parked out on the street for anyone to nick it. It appeared that we had arrived just in time, as it looked like two teenage chancers were looking to pinch it.

"Oi!" Bones called out. "Did you keep your grotty hands off my Rover like I requested?" he demanded.

"Yes, guv'nor," they replied.

"Good, lads. You've earned some additional brass," Bones reached into his wallet and handed them twenty quid. "Now piss off. You thought I had made a schoolboy error by parking my Rover in the middle of a council estate, didn't you, Dawesey?"

"The thought did occur to me."

"Yet all I needed to do was entice the local ruffians with a little quid and she was safe as houses. After you, Dawesey," Bones opened the passenger door and motioned for me to get into his vehicle.

-X-

"Was it really necessary to follow me all the way to Newham?" I asked once we were en route to Belgravia.

"Yes. You may have an apparent disregard for your own personal safety. I do not."

"Or perhaps you thought I had done a runner."

"Even you know running is not option with me."

"Are you supposed to be driving? Jack had hopes of getting you shitfaced."

"Well, Jack was in a bit of a sulk after I destroyed him on the racquet ball court. His days dossing about at a desk in the MoD are making him soft. Needless to say, he was the one who ended up getting shitfaced. Max tells me you two raked up quite the bill at the Palm Court."

"Being that you are, in fact minted, I do not see how that should be problem for you," I rolled my eyes.

"What am I going to do with you, Dawesey," Bones shook his head and laughed.

"You could start by agreeing to a truce," I suggested. "I promise not to call you a Rupert if promise not to use my former engagement as a weapon against me."

"I suppose it wouldn't kill me," Bones conceded.

"Can we quit with the argy-bargy crap now?"

"Until the next time you annoy me, Poppet, which knowing you, will likely be 5 minutes from now," he smirked, causing me to laugh in return. It seemed that we had finally reached a detente for now.

-X-

The first thing I felt in my confused state of exhaustion and weakness was the horrible shooting pain in my left side. Then there was the blood trailing from my broken lip, my body drenched in sweat as I panted for breath after another kick to my abdomen. I tried not to think how I had ended up in such a mess as I braced myself for yet another blow. I had no way of knowing how many days I had been locked in this stifling, dark and windowless room in the god-forsaken heat and humidity of the rainforest, enduring beating after beating. I knew I was dehydrated from the lack of fluid, and wondered how much longer I could sustain this torture. Was it pathetic that I kept retreating to my memories of him, wanting to feel the solace of his comforting embrace? Imaging that I was lying in his arms, my cheek resting on his bare chest as he gently stroked my hair and made me feel safe. Yet, here I was in reality anything but safe I thought as one of my burley captors walked up to me with his cigarette, roughly grabbed my forearm and proceeded to burn it, causing me to scream out in agony."

"Molly! Molly!" I suddenly awoke from my nightmare, gasping for air and covered in sweat to find Bones hovering over me.

"W-what?" I croaked out in confusion.

"It's all right. You were having a nightmare. Your screams woke us up," Bones explained as he sat next to me on my bed and gently started to rub my back in an attempt to comfort me.

"I-I was back there. In S-sierra Leone," I stuttered as my body continued to shake.

"I know. You're safe, Molly," Bones assured me, continuing to hold me close to him. "I promise I am never going to let anything like that happen to you again," he assured, his hand still rubbing my back. "I have this, guys," Bones looked up at Max and Jack who were standing in the doorway to my room looking concerned.

"Are you sure? I could make you a cuppa, Molly," Max offered.

"I-I'm all right."

"Let us know if you need anything," Jack offered, before they returned to their bedroom, leaving me alone with Bones.

"Deep breaths, in and out, poppet," Bones instructed me once they had left. "You're all right. I promise."

"I'm sorry," I choked out.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Keep breathing. You'll get through this. I promise," he reassured me, his presence comforting and making me feel safe once again.

-X-

"Does it happen often?" Bones asked once I had stopped shaking and my breathing had returned to normal.

"Does what happen often?"

"The nightmares."

"They did at first, but they have gotten better over time. It's been at least three months since I've had one.

"You know you can talk to me about it."

"I just remember the constant pain both physical and emotional. The feeling of being utterly worthless and thinking that no one would come to rescue me. The beatings seemed never ending and cigarette burns were extraordinarily painful."

"At least those bastards got what was coming to them."

"What did you do to them? I was so buggered I don't remember much of what occurred when you, Spanner, and Peanut showed up."

"You don't want to know, poppet. Let's just leave it at that. No one gets away with torturing one of ours. No one."

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could stay for a bit? At least until I fall back to sleep?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nodded shyly, as he laid down next to me and pulled me close, his bare chest warm against the thin fabric of my vest top. It was then that it occurred to me that he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs while I was only in my vest top and knickers. Snuggling into his warmth, I found comfort in his warm, muscular body. For the first time, in a very long time, I felt comforted and safe.

"Sleep, poppet," Bones whispered before he kissed my forehead and covered us with the duvet.