A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! I love the speculation and curiosity! I love hearing what you're thinking! Also, welcome Grammar Police! Always happy to have some constructive criticism!

For those who've read my other stories, I completely plagiarized myself in this one. Sorry about that, hope you don't mind. My past self certainly doesn't mind.

This was too fun to write. Enjoy!


She spent the rest of the day avoiding Charlie whenever she could. They ate their sandwiches in relative silence. Neither could look the other in the eye. She briefly wondered if he was thinking about her conversation with Beryl. If he had been bothered by the concept of her shagging him. Or if the thought had peaked an interest in doing such things.

But at the same time, she found she couldn't really care.

If it was a lump, if she hadn't completely lost her mind, then what did it matter who she was shagging or wasn't shagging? What did the documentary matter? What did any of it matter in the end?

Dinner was a silent affair. After spending the day automatically making edits to the narration, she had little energy left to keep up conversation. A part of her felt bad. Charlie had been so kind to her throughout the entire month. They had even managed to keep their arguments to a minimum. He deserved better from her.

Which, she reasoned, was why she was taking dinner with him in the first place. When what she really wanted was to be alone. To be alone with her thoughts, to come to some understanding of what she had discovered in the shower, that was what she needed most. And at the same time, she couldn't fathom the idea. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want it to be real.

Her computer lived in her lap most of the evening. Her work, ever able to distract her, made for a great coping mechanism. When she was working she didn't have to talk with Charlie, she didn't have to think about what she found, and she could be alone and sitting next to someone at the same time.

Charlie went up around ten. She said goodnight, only to find her voice caked over having not used it for half a day. Before he left, he made an odd motion, as if to touch her, but then changed his mind at the last second. She rolled her eyes at herself. She had been so quiet the whole day. He could be intuitive at times. Did he know something was wrong?

Her bed beckoned her around one in the morning. She slammed her laptop closed.

She slept in fits and starts that night. Her dreams disappeared the moment she woke. It felt like night had never left.

Another grey day.

It was late morning when she finally sat up. Her nightgown hung around her shoulders, the top stretched, she could see the swell of her breasts in the mirror. If she looked carefully, could she see it? Was it visible? If she had been shagging Charlie would he have noticed it?

Standing, she walked to the mirror. Head tilted to one side she squinted. Nothing. It certainly wasn't visible. Was it even there?

She didn't want to touch. Didn't want to confirm.

She needed Joe. He would touch her, confirm for her.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. Needed was not the word she wanted right there. She didn't want to need anyone.

Her mother's face crossed her vision. She shivered. Yes, having her ma wrap her arms around her, that would be the only thing Elsie could imagine needing right now.

But her mother was dead and buried. Two years now.

She wiped at her eyes, her tears limited. Her hormones, it seemed, had decided to take a vacation.

Biting her lip and gathering her courage she attempted to bring her three fingers to that spot, just to the left of where her breast met her chest. Her courage failed her. She couldn't bring herself to confirm the worst. She needed someone - someone else to tell her it was there.

A doctor.

She shook her head. No. That would be too real. And what if it wasn't there? Did she want to discover her mental faculties were gone in front of a doctor?

Her thoughts turned to Anna. A text had come in the middle of the night: Lance Corporal John Bates would be landing in Afghanistan sometime the next morning.

She couldn't possibly lay another worry on Anna. The poor girl was nervous enough as it was.

Beryl. She could ask Beryl to check. Beryl would know what to do, how to feel for - but could she really wait an entire week for Beryl to return?

Cancer. The only thing she really knew about it was that time shouldn't be wasted. What if it had spread in a week?

She shook her head, violently, her brain became angry. The headache didn't help assuage her fears. It wasn't cancer. She didn't know that yet.

Charlie.

She almost laughed.

Could she really ask Charlie?

Charlie, dear, would you mind awfully: Touch my breast for me, please.

She did laugh out loud.

No. She couldn't image how she could possibly ask him.

Her laughter had brought her back to some middle ground. She found herself leaning into ambiguity and a certain lack of care.

Finding a large blue button down, a shirt she often used for housework, she threw it on without a bra. Her breasts had betrayed her, they didn't deserve the embrace of a brassiere. A pair of her softer jeans filled out the rest of her outfit. She left her room to find Charlie.

Standing at the top of the stairs she paused. Her bare toes curled into the soft carpet. She pursed her lips and considered the choice she had just made. Without a bra, going down stairs would be a tad uncomfortable. She swallowed. She didn't want to touch herself. Hesitating a moment, she crossed her arms and pressed against herself. She walked as lightly as she could down the stairs.

She found Charlie fiddling with his record player in the living room.

The side doors of the media cabinet were open. He stood with his torso in the middle of the doors, his face hidden behind the glass. Grumbles met her ears. She held her hands in front of her, unsure why she had wanted his company.

"You sound stuck," she said.

He jumped, bumping his head on the top of the cabinet. She bit back a chortle, and pursed her lips in sympathy. He rubbed his head, glancing at her. Elevator eyes. Just as quickly he returned to the blasted machine he was trying to make play sound. She was starting to forget her reasons for not wearing a bra.

"Anna had some fellow come and fix this as a Christmas present," he said, "But I can't make heads or tails as to what I'm supposed to do. What do I turn on first? Why can't I just press a button and it plays music?"

"I suppose there's a manual?" She said, hoping to be helpful.

"Of course, the manual, why hadn't I thought of that," he said sarcastically.

He glanced at her again and saw her face fall. She turned away with a shrug.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm just flustered."

"Of course," she began to move towards the sofa. Her laptop still sat on the coffee table. Working - that would help make her numb again.

"I had an interview this morning," he said.

She paused, returning to him, "I thought they were next week."

"They were - are." He agreed, flicking a switch on the player, "this one came out of the blue. Fellow texted me, asked to do one over the computer. It went - horrible doesn't quite cut it. He had to walk me through turning on the camera on my computer and then - it was just horrible."

"What was it for?" She asked.

"That was the worst of it: he wanted me to come in to consult on his business. Five hundred pounds for a month's work." He scoffed, "How low can I get? And he was young. His suit crumpled. I doubt he's slept in weeks. Came off a bit of a mess. But then, I suppose I did too."

She felt for him. She really did. She was just finding it difficult to express that.

"I can't keep this up," he sighed in defeat, "I'm going to have to tell Anna soon. She called about a textbook she needs. A hundred and fifty pounds. I don't think I'm going to have a hundred and fifty pounds by the end of the month."

"Let me get it for her," the words left her mouth before she had really thought about it.

"No, don't be silly," he waved her off.

But it felt good to help, and she couldn't ignore that, she held onto it, vice like, "no, really, Charlie. I - I'm never going to have kids of my own. Anna's as close as I've got. Let me help her. Please."

The word 'please', said so softly, furrowed his brow. She watched his jaw clench as he considered her.

"I suppose you are her 'mumzi'."

They shared a small smile, each remembering the moment the baby Anna had christened her that.

"Thank you," She said, "And my offer still stands: give me a lease and I'll sign it."

"No," he turned back to the record player, pressing more buttons, determined to ignore her request.

"You're being silly now," she said, "at a certain point I'm going to become less of a house guest and more of a roommate, and I'd rather not be a burden to you."

"You are not, nor could you ever be, a burden to me," he moved to look at her so quickly she worried he'd hit his head again.

"It would ease my mind to know I was contributing," she continued. Arguing with him helped almost as much as caring for him - made her feel more alive than she had in the past twelve hours.

"No," he reiterated, and gave her a pointed look as if to say the conversation was over.

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, "I hope you've considered getting another lodger then? You've certainly got enough rooms. You could probably take on two lodgers, plus myself and Anna."

He sighed, "yes, I've considered it. I'm still thinking on it."

He pressed a button and a loud squeak burst through the house. Elsie slammed her hands against her ears. He pressed several buttons at once and the squeak disappeared.

"I should probably learn to work this before I take on anyone else," he added.

As he spoke he waved his hand at the machines, catching his pinky finger on the edge of one of the door jams. She saw the blood before he was able to say, 'ouch', and rushed to him.

She took his hand in her own, holding it gently aloft. His other hand he held underneath, keeping the drops from meeting his pristine floors.

"Upstairs," she said.

She tugged him to the main bathroom. Pulling out bandaids and some antiseptic, she ignored his blustering 'I'm fine's' and began to dress his, albeit small, wound.

It didn't take too long before he simply let her go about pressing the gooey antibiotic lotion to his cut. Gently she pulled the bandaid around his smallest of fingers. Her hands worked quickly, deftly. She lingered a moment. She resisted the urge to place a small kiss - she wasn't his mother. And still she was captivated by the wrapped up cut. She ran her finger along his skin, slipping over the bandaid.

Visible. It had been so visible. Would still be if she hadn't wrapped it, cared for it. How easy it had been to care for something so visible. Something truly insignificant. How could it be that something invisible, something she could only feel inside her flesh, would be so much more significant?

"I'm okay, Els," Charlie said, breaking her reverie, "but are you okay?"

She bit her lip, releasing his hand. She chanced a glance at him. His face held worry and care and something she couldn't quite place.

He continued, "did you - I hope you spoke to Beryl about Joe. I'm sure seeing him was difficult."

She laughed. Actually laughed. She ignored the surprise on his face. Joe. That's what he was thinking. And for the first time in the last month, Joe had not been the foremost thing on her mind.

"No," she whispered, "it's not that."

He sucked in his lips. He looked like such a little boy, uncertain in the face of the most common of things. At the last second, she made up her mind.

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, "I - I'm not sure where to begin."

A blush began to creep up her cheeks. No, no, she didn't want that. She knew this wasn't going to be easy. Glancing behind her, the long hallway beckoned her to run. Instead, she closed the bathroom door.

"Els?" Charlie's brow knit together, "what -"

"Just give me a second," she said, trying to pull herself together.

"We're the only ones here," he almost laughed, nodding to the door.

She nodded, putting her hands up, keeping him at arms length, "yes, I know. I just need us to be…secluded."

"Secluded?" His voice jumped pitch.

Her legs started to shake with nerves. Tension filled her stomach. A strange thought brushed by as she realized she was glad she hadn't worn a bra.

Hesitating, she raised her hands up to the top button of her shirt. She stared at his brown pullover, not daring to look in his eyes.

Realizing what her fingers were about to do, Charlie cautioned, "Els…"

She shook her head.

One button unbuttoned, then the next, as her fingers worked, her words flew out of her mouth, "I need you to do something for me. A favor."

He swallowed, "a favor?"

"Yes, a favor," she continued, her shirt now unbuttoned, exposing just enough of her chest for him to touch - she swallowed sharply. There was no going back now.

She chanced another glance at his face. His eyes were watering, staring resolutely at her face. She flushed to think how hard he was trying not to look at her partially exposed breasts. Such a gentleman.

"Put your fingers like this," she said, holding up her right hand, three fingers pulled together.

He did as she asked. She swallowed back a laugh as she imagined how they must look. The two of them cloistered in the bathroom, hands raised in some mock salute. They might have joined a cult.

"I need you to touch me," she said, then pointed to the top of her breast, "here."

His hand still raised, he licked his lips and said, "touch you?"

She nodded and raised her arm up just as the doctor had taught her. Her eyes urged him on.

He shifted his feet. He licked his lips once more and swallowed. Just when she thought he wasn't going to do it, his hand moved, slowly, hesitatingly, towards her.

She looked away. She didn't want to see his face, she didn't want to see it as he registered what he felt - if he felt anything.

When his cool fingers finally met her warm skin she closed her eyes. She shook her head. No. He was touching her chest, just above her breast. Too much of a gentleman. Taking her own hand, she moved his fingers lower. His intake of breath did not go unnoticed by her. She moved his fingers in small circles, adding pressure.

"Oh god," he said. His voice dropped.

She pulled her hand away, knowing he had felt it. His fingers worked against her flesh. She clenched her jaw, biting back tears.

"No," he said.

He pulled away, and just as quickly pulled her body into his, her face slammed into the softness of his pullover.

"God no," he continued.

Pressing her hands against his tummy, she pushed herself away, out of his embrace. She had to know for certain, had to hear him say the words.

"What did you feel?" She asked

"I - I -" he stuttered, "I remember, my dog, when I was a boy, the bump on her belly…"

His face held an apology as he recognized he was comparing her to a dog. She shook her head, not caring. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and she willed them away. She threw her focus anywhere, everywhere else, on how her shirt was now unbuttoned to her belly, how exposed she was. His eyes stared sadly at her breasts.

Quickly, she buttoned herself up and turned to lean against the sink, her chin falling to her chest.

Confirmation.

It was there; invisible, but there.

A lump.

"Elsie?" He practically whispered, "Have you - you need to call a doctor, right away."

She nodded. "I know."

"Right now."

She nodded again. Her chin quivered. She opened the bathroom door, startling him. The long hallway seemed to compress. How odd to think the world was still going on outside of their little bathroom. She closed her eyes, holding tight to the door.

He pressed his fingers into the palm of her other hand. Instinctively she wrapped her hand around his. Her breath calmed enough to regain her focus.

His breath on her neck, "I'll put on the kettle."

She squeezed his fingers to show she had heard. They separated at the stairs, him to the kitchen, her to her bedroom and her phone.

When she returned to the living room she found him pacing. She fought against rolling her eyes.

"Tuesday afternoon," she said, "I've an appointment with Isobel at three."

"Why not tomorrow?" He asked.

"I don't know, I suppose they're booked."

"Shouldn't it be immediate?"

She shook her head, trying not to be bothered by his care, "If she thinks Tuesday is fine, then Tuesday is fine."

The tea kettle's whistle made them both jump.

He brought in the tea and they settled on the sofa. Together they stared at the tendrils of steam floating off the amber liquid. A strange calm had come over her. She recognized it was in reaction to the anxiety pouring off the body of the man sitting next to her. Her Charlie.

"It's just," he said. His head fell to his hands, hiding his eyes, "I can't -"

"Don't," she said, brushing a hand across his forearm.

She saw the sob, but he kept it silent. She gripped his forearm tighter and he placed a wet hand on top of hers.

"I've lost nearly everything, Elsie," he said, "I can't lose you, too."

"You don't -"

"And, good god, how selfish is this? How selfish am I being?!" He pulled his hand away, wiping both eyes.

She leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, forcing him to stop pulling away from her. She rubbed his arm, her heart in her throat.

"You're not being selfish," she whispered, "Caring isn't selfish, far from it in fact."

She had felt the chuckle in her voice and wasn't sure how she had managed it. Letting her pull him to her, she linked her arms around his middle and set her head against his chest. He wrapped his body tight around hers. She sighed. This was what she had needed. They sat together, arms around each other, their tea growing cold

The ticking of the clock marked the only passage of time. Her body relaxed into his. Her eyes closed naturally. She didn't know how long they sat there, and was surprised to find he was still awake when he mumbled into her hair, "rest."

She smiled into the cotton of his sweater. Intuitive. He knew how tired she was. Her lack of sleep the night before had cost her. Permission granted, she let herself drift into a hazy sleep.


A/N: And where do they go from there...? Whatcha thinkin' out there? Leave a review and tell me about it!