Gemmadog's turn now. Its been a while and we may have lost one of the authors on the way but Sarahlouisek30 and I are hopefully enough to keep this story alive and going to it's fitting conclusion. Enjoy.
Step by Step
Chapter 12
Molly giggled as she packed her kit bag. The stuff she was ramming in there was almost akin to what she would have taken on a holiday. Not back to a war zone!
The precious Rosabaya capsule had pride of place.
She had spent most of the two weeks leave getting herself ready to go back again.
Back to her job. Back to Afghan. Back to Charles. To the man who told her 13 days ago that he loved her.
Georgie's wedding had been fun, really good fun. Just as she'd expected. The bride looked amazing. The groom walked around like he'd won the lottery and the reception was loud and wild.
So, Molly has made the most of it. She had danced. She had drunk. She had made the absolutely most of her freedom and loved every minute.
Yet a large part of her still spent most of the night watching the door. Scanning the room. Hoping against hope that he'd walk through the door or cross the dance floor at any moment. Praying that Lady Luck would shine on them both and he'd make it there. To her. Just for one night. But he didn't and she missed him.
Simply put she knew she loved him too.
That hope he'd pitch up though had been a simple dream. She knew that in reality there wasn't a chance that it would have happened, but she still silently hoped. When the night had ended she made her way to her hotel room alone and felt his absence even more than she had expected.
However, the loneliness didn't dampen her spirits. Her sense of a challenge began. Accepting it she then went into planning mode. Planning for her return. Back to him.
The days slowly past away and she spent a good amount of her time catching up with others, visiting friends and the few bits of family she still kept in touch with.
But most of all she spent the time getting herself and her body ready. As in return back to Charles ready!
She planned it all perfectly. She went to the hairdressers, and the beauticians. Her hair was treated and cut. It now shone. She was waxed groomed and perfect, and the right bits that hadn't been quite right before, though he'd never complained, were now smooth and silky.
She felt good about herself and she felt excited. Treating herself like she had never treated herself before. She was now was the proud owner of several sets of strictly non regulation underwear to tease him with, and a body that was buffed and tanned to dazzle him with.
Now all she needed was time to speed up.
She couldn't wait and here she was just slightly more than 24 hrs off returning back to him, and time seemed to have suddenly stopped.
Looking at the clock she sighed happily throwing herself dramatically down on her bed. This time tomorrow she knew she'd be back on the flight. Back on the flight to Afghanistan. Back on the flight to her man. Back to tell him that she loved him too.
It had been hard being away from him, and she hoped he felt it too.
There had been no contact with him during her leave. Obviously. And they both knew there wouldn't and couldn't be. They had accepted that when the time to say goodbye came around. Mobile phones not an option and Skype a difficult, and totally unreliable commodity to communicate with an illicit lover by.
So, they both knew they couldn't risk it. They understood. That for now they had to wait out. Bide their time and wait. They still had to be ever so careful. Rumours spread quickly and if they did it could only spell trouble for them both. Neither wanted or needed that, not in their relationships or career. So, they just had to wait this time apart out.
Contact between them was forbidden but thinking about him wasn't. Molly therefore spent a lot of her time dreaming of him. Dreaming of them.
Many a quite night she laid there on her bed thinking of his touch on her skin. Her lips on his. The way his mouth had moved silently over her body and brought it to a crashing high.
She therefore indulged in a lot of 'me' time, there alone in her single bed back in the barracks, and she loved it.
To be fair, before Charles it had never been a thing she had done particularly well or had even done much. But then again she'd never really had any terms of reference to turn to before. Never really had that experience of how to reach her peak. Of how to understand her own body the way he did.
And then she met Charles and he had shown her just what her body was capable of, and in her alone time she started to put that instruction to good use.
Her future, she now optimistically hoped was no longer filled with nights where she had to lie back and think of England. That had changed as far as she was concerned. Instead with him it was a case of lie back and thoroughly enjoy being worshiped by a man who knew his way around a woman's body. Her body.
Still it wasn't the real thing, but memories and hope made it a damn good second best for now. Their time of being back together again would come. Just like she had so many times this week without him!
" I made you cry. The first time I saw you." He whispered into her hair as she had laid her head on his chest. Over the last two weeks apart Molly still remembered the feel of him underneath her as she once again day dreamed about their night together. She continued with her indulgence and blocked out the noise from the communal corridor of her accommodation and drifted off into a world that replayed their night of passion.
"It really made me feel like a grade one shit." Charles had continued. "I'm sorry."
She had sighed but with that happy contented smile on her face. Something that hadn't been there for a long while. "Don't worry." She said so quietly. "I wouldn't change a single thing about that day. It's when I first met you."
He shifted himself slightly up and pulled her with him. She positioned herself half on half off his body. Their naked skins still damp and sticking deliciously to each other. Both unashamed and uninhibited by their nakedness. There was no hurry, no need to leave. It was just them for now.
"Nothing?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Nothing. Well yes actually." She focused on his chest and slowly drew her right index finger across the hairs and toyed with his nipples as she did so. He took in a shuddering breath at her touch. Instantly she felt him harden beneath her touch again. She smiled into his skin. Avoided eye contact, bizarrely the next confession made her shy. "I wish I'd asked for your phone number." She admitted.
"I wish I'd given it to you too." He said instantly and rolled his head around to try to look at her. "Wanted to...just didn't think it was the done thing! You know hitting on a bride on her wedding day?"
"No I guess it wasn't." She agreed with a giggle and began peppering kisses down his chest now. Happy with his admission. Slowly making her way south to his enthusiasm for her.
"Never been so pleased for a power cut in my life." He continued, speaking with a definite waiver to his voice as her kisses started to come dangerously close. "Molly!" He warned, but with little threat.
She teased him a bit more and then looked up at him as her chin rested just above his hip bone.
"What?" She asked with a grin, and then not waiting for an answer moved slightly and took him hungrily onto her mouth.
"Oh fuck Molly." He just was able to strangle out as he responded to her skill. "Oh don't stop Molly. Oh...Molly!"
"MOLLY. Mols." Someone shouted from outside her room and snapped her out of her day dreaming. Slightly confused for a moment when she realised she wasn't back in Afghanistan with Charles, but was lying in her bed in the barracks. "There's someone on the phone for you"
Slightly dazed and left wanting she popped her head out of the bedroom door and an acquaintance raced from the block past her by and nodded to the internal phone at the end of the passage. "Some Captain or another." She added, then left.
Molly's heart beat faster than it should have. Never daring to hope he'd be able to call but delighted that he was obviously doing so anyway.
And then the fear took over wondering if it was bad news that was making him call and it wasn't just a friendly chat.
She jogged to the phone. Unsure whether to be delighted by his call or scared.
Slightly out of breath through her memories, anxiety and speed she picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Dawes is that you?"
The line was crackly and she failed to hear the worlds properly.
"Course it is." She giggled. 100 percent certain she knew who it was on the other end of the line.
"Good. It's Captain Peters here. 12th regiment. In charge of the deployment of the RAMC to Syria."
Instantly her heart fell.
Crushed that it hadn't been Charles on the end of the line. Crushed that it wasn't his voice that she was hearing as she had hoped for.
"Sir?" Her mind buzzed with disappointment and curiosity.
"Change of plan I'm afraid. "Captain Peters continued. "I know you were due back to Afghanistan tomorrow. Well I'm sure as you've heard it's all gone a bit shit in Syria." He paused waiting for a response.
"Yes Sir." Was all she could commit to. The truth be told she hadn't watched much TV while she had been on leave. Too focused on her preparations to be concerned about what was happening elsewhere.
"We need you to be part of a new team and get out there PDQ. Tomorrow actually. So, we are pulling you from Afghanistan. Report at Brize at 14.00hrs and a full briefing will be given then. Any questions?"
"No sir I mean... yes Sir." Her mind was spinning. "I mean I ain't going back there at all?" She quietly asked. "Not even as a stopover or something?"
Peters laughed. "Afghanistan isn't exactly on the way there now is it Dawes?" He chuckled.
"No. I mean yes. I mean. Yes Sir." To thrown to realise that her limited geography of the world and its continents had been exposed. "What about me stuff and that?" She asked. "I left loads of kit behind?"
"All in hand." He reassured her. "Being packed up as we speak and it will meet you on the other side."
"But Sir?" She was unsure how to ask, still needed to. "What about me team out there? What will they think? Will they know?"
"Don't worry I'm sure your Captain out there has comms all under control." He was growing tired of the conversation now. He had several more calls to make to staff about their relocation. "Beside I'm sure you'll make new friends with this section."
Meekly all she could reply was an automatic. "Yes Sir." She knew it was pointless to argue.
"Good. Well then Dawes. Good luck. And it's a Sergeant Kinders you report to tomorrow. He has all the paperwork." And with that he was gone.
She moved quickly back to her room. Not wanting to stop and chat to the group of soldiers that littered the corridor, socialising outside their rooms in the communal living space. She needed time alone.
As soon as she closed the door softly tears started to spill.
It was the worst news. She wasn't going back to him. She had only six weeks left on her tour in Afghanistan. Six weeks which she thought she'd spend with him. Six more weeks to be close to him. And now suddenly it was gone, along with her hope. She wasn't going to see him again.
Then something clicked. He wouldn't know what was happening and she had to let him know. She had to make contact some way some how to explain why, despite her promise, she wasn't coming back to him. That it wasn't her fault. The options she knew were limited.
Writing to him directly might be dangerous. To send him a letter on the famous blue paper in her handwriting might raise a few questions and eyebrows. Especially once it was known she had been there with him, together for a while, before she went to Syria. She couldn't risk that. Couldn't put him through those potential questions without his permission.
Telephoning was out. Their personal phones just didn't work, personal calls on the public line we're monitored and not so were definitely not private.
Then she thought that there was Georgie. She might be a link to contacting him. She'd been her link before today. Maybe she had a way to contact him, that Molly could impose on. Let him know on her behalf the change of plan. Briefly she got excited but reality hit, that avenue wouldn't be possible for weeks. Georgie was on still on honeymoon and she couldn't even if she had wanted to get in contact with her.
Molly knew little of his family life so couldn't approach his parents and knew none of his friends. Her choices were poor.
She realised she was left with a limited choice. And eventually her only one came to her.
Jacqui; she could write to Jacqui.
Explain things and confess and hope she'd pass on a letter to him on her behalf. It was her only option, though still a poor one as it would take up to five long days for the letter to arrive. Five long days before he'd know what had happened to her.
Yet it was her only chance.
He paced nervously. Today was the day. Today Molly came back to him. Two weeks she had been gone. Two weeks without seeing her face across the room in the canteen. Two weeks of not hearing her laugh. Two weeks of not being close to her, of not touching her. Two weeks of not knowing her response to his declaration of love.
Their relationship was physically only in the early stages, but still he knew it was it was something special. Emotionally their relationship was far more advanced and he missed her.
Finally, they'd had a chance. A chance to move a relationship together forward, and all they had to do was get the next few months out of the way and then... well he had great hopes for them.
So today was the day she returned and he was nervous, excited and almost beside himself with physical anticipation of having the chance to hold her again.
He knew they needed to be careful. He knew, they both knew, were risking a lot, but he knew he was powerless to resist. She was his something special. She was what he'd been waiting for, to find. That illusive thing, love; and with Molly Dawes he was certain that he finally had.
So, he spent the day pacing. He spent the day waiting and looking at the skies for the transporter to arrive.
And then suddenly it did, and he started to measure time. He allowed for about half an hour before the bus would bring them into the accommodation part of the compound, and then she'd be here and he wondered what he'd do from that point on.
He was torn. He needed to keep some control. Some dignity. Questioning if he should wait for her in there special place or arrange it to be passing as the bus came to a halt, so she'd be the first thing she saw as she stepped off.
He knew caution was necessary and the only option really was to wait until she was settled and hope she would seek him out; visit him in his cabin once night had fallen.
Fate though took over.
The message came through that the bus had broken down close to the storage zone in the camp and his section were called in to unload it and the supplies it was bringing back. As they jogged closer to the bus Charles felt his heart race as he watched from a distance the passengers leave. His eyes scanned the crowds and assessed every single figure for hers and wasn't prepared for the crashing disappointed when he didn't see it.
"Is that all the personnel off?" He asked the driver, looking over the shoulder of him hoping she was still on there. Hoping she was just asleep, or unable to leave the bus for some reason.
"That's them all." The soldier replied back to him. "Quite a few more empty spaces coming back than I took I reckon." He critically added.
Charles was lost. He'd expected to see her and had mentally plotted her return down to the last minute, knowing this was the only load of soldiers coming in that day from Brize. If she wasn't on this one it very clearly meant that than she wasn't coming back. She wasn't coming back to camp, to him and he didn't know why.
It was hell. She knew though it would be. She had only half her kit so far. The camp was basic and it was ridiculously hot and humid. Everything was damp and sweaty. Afghanistan was hot but dry. Syria was hot and damp. The cot she had to sleep on for the next foreseeable was musty and poor. She lamented the loss instantly of the unsteadily camp bed she had left behind.
She lamented the loss of everything she had left behind. Especially Charles.
As she familiarised herself half heartedly with the camp, just on the right side of the Syrian boarder she tried to be positive, but her upper most thought was of the letter she wrote just before she left.
She wondered when he'd get it, when he'd know she wasn't coming back. Wondering if he'd already knew. That maybe he'd have been part of some inside intel that would have prepared him for her absence or would he have been just as shocked as her. That she wasn't coming back to finish what they had so definitely started.
The letter she enclosed and entrusted to Jacqui said it all. Explained everything and more. She poured her heart out onto the blue sheets of paper. It was like no other letter she had ever written before, reasoning that she had nothing to lose any more except him and she never wanted to do that. She therefore hoped and prayed Jacqui would keep her secret and deliver the letter as requested. That the favour Molly asked of her friend wasn't a favour too much.
As promised she had learnt more once she had arrived to Brize and then again on the long noisy and uncomfortable flight over. Something for some reason had kicked off. She was still unclear as to what or why, but she did know they were there to help. Just on the Syrian boarder. Not quite in and not quite out was how it was explained. They were to work with the locals there, and first reports were it was a pretty desperate place to be. Their job was to treat those that they could and help ease the suffering of those they couldn't. She was, it was coldly explained here until the end of her tour, and no formal return date had been made clear. All she took away from her de brief was that there was very definitely no return to Afghanistan and no leave. And so, Molly as she tried to close her eyes and find a happy place had to also come to terms very quickly with the fact that this was her lot and nothing could change that for now.
He ran. He ran hard. He ran fast. He ran to forget the crushing pain he felt inside him. It twisted and flared each time he thought of her and her absence.
It had been days now and still she hadn't come. And running was the only thing he could think of to help him work through this.
She mattered. She really mattered to him and that's why all this hurt even more. Even though it was wrong. The wrong place and the wrong time it was unstoppable and yet despite that he knew he was going to take every sweet perfect step he could to make it perfect.
Their time out there was temporary but his life with Molly he felt was potentially something more. She had gotten under his skin a long time ago. Had become a part of him that he hadn't quite realised he needed; until she was suddenly there. Waiting for him.
So, he took the chance and he'd never felt more scared, and happier before in his life. This was the start of something. Or so he thought. That's what he'd believed; until he'd heard the chat in the Ops room.
Charles had simply expected her back and had never considered that she wouldn't come back, so when she didn't come back, he at first believed it was down to some unknown force. Some other circumstance beyond her control that had prevented her return; but that eventually she would.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
Yet all those hopes came crashing down as he heard her Captain three days later after her expected return talking about cover and reduced numbers in her section.
"A right bloody pain in the arse." Captain Brooke moaned. Her face twisted in concentration. "Three medics down. So now I have three shifts to cover as well as Dawes' transfer."
Her Corporal murmured her consent and shifted some paper.
"I mean who actually bloody goes and volunteers to be transferred away from here?" Brooke asked. "I mean actually begs for the transfer from here to Syria. I knew Dawes was keen, but I didn't think she was unhappy enough to put herself forward for that op, and to leave and head off there as soon as she could."
Charles heard no more. At that moment he turned and left. Not wanting to hear any more. Of all the things he'd expected, hoped, for that was not it.
It was definite now; Molly wasn't coming back. That was hard to hear. Yet what was even harder to hear was that she herself had asked not to come back. That she was so unhappy to return back to Afghanistan, and so chose Syria instead over coming back to. Coming back to him.
And so, as he turned away from the tent he made the decision and ran.
Ran to forget. Ran to burn off the pain and raw emotion he was feeling. He felt betrayed and he felt her loss. He felt stupid that he'd gotten them so wrong.
Eventually he could run no more. Sweat soaked and weary he made his way to his quarters. Briskly avoiding his section and a group of friends who were singing and enjoying themselves outside one of the canteens. He was in no mood.
He needed to focus up. He needed to move past this. Concentrate on the job in had and forget Molly Dawes. He was a Captain in the British Army for fucks sake. Not a lovesick puppy. And so, he moved through the camp with purpose.
"Sir!" Someone shouted at him. "Sir." But he ignored it.
He'd almost reached his cabin door when he heard a louder, more out of breath.
"Captain James."
His face was black with anger. He wanted more time to pull himself together. One more night of mourning her, and his loss then he'd move on. He did not want to be disturbed.
He turned reluctantly and saw standing in front of him, looking very unsure was one of Molly's friends. Jacqui.
"Yes." He said too sharply and he watched her almost shrink away. "What is it Corporal?"
She said nothing. Too afraid he guessed.
Instead all she did was hand him over a blue forces mail letter and then turned and quickly left. She said no words. Gave no explanation.
He held it in his hands and flipping it over he saw neat writing he didn't recognise. He was confused as to why a Queen Alexandra's Royal Army Nursing Corporal was bringing him his mail.
Still angry and now overtly curious he stumbled into his room and sat on his bed. Expectation took over and he opened it.
His anger dispersing immediately. His heart swelling instantly as he read the words.
Dear Charles, it began...
And he knew.
Those first few lines. The first among many... well he just knew.
Everything was righting itself. Everything he believed was true.
The words said it all and did so much more.
A smile appeared on his face and a boom to his heart that chased away the sadness that had once been there.
Everything was well in the world.
The letter was from Molly.