Good morning world. I'm very happy to be writing to you all with a brand new one shot from The Miniaturists, written by no other than the fabulous JenMC. I know you'd all rather read her lovely story, than my wittering, but before you start, get yourself a cuppa and a nice quiet spot. Between this and Itsembrarrasing updating last night too, you deserve a few moments to relax and curl up in the comforting embrace of CJ. Doctors orders. xxx

All I Need

By JenMC

The coach pulls into the car park painfully slowly, crawling to a stop as a small crowd starts to gather. The windows are blacked out, and instead of trying to catch a look through them, I watch the door. I'm waiting for it to open, followed by the first flash of camouflage that I know will pass through shortly.

I know he won't be out the door till everyone else has been through. He's last, every time. I can count on the fact that he'll make sure everyone's accounted for and back with their family before he can breathe a sigh of relief and switch off a bit. He's told me before that coming home from tour when he's been in charge is like holding his breath for weeks and months till he finally knows that he's got every one of his soldiers back in one piece. The problem is that, this time, not everybody's coming back.

I'm still struggling to get my own nut round it, I can't even bear to think how he must be feeling. I know exactly how it feels to watch your best mate die in front of you; powerless to do anything but watch. My heart breaks for him having to go through the same.

I'm lost in my own world and memories for a minute, when I feel a hand burrow its way into mine. Sam's nearly the same height as me, and he bloody well knows how to throw the strop of an almost teenager. But when I look over at the same pair of dark brown eyes that came straight from his Dad, I get one of those reminders that deep down he's still just a kid, and he's looking to me to reassure him. One of these days I'll get the hang of this Stepmum thing.

He grips my fingers tightly and gives me a smile, pretending that he's holding onto me for my comfort rather than his. He's spotted my trainers digging deep into the gravel. I can't bear to watch the door any more.

"It'll be alright Molly, he'll be back soon."

"I know, mate."

I give his hand a good squeeze, so that he knows I ain't going anywhere. He's still got that blind optimism of a kid. I hope he doesn't grow out of it any time soon. Still thinks everything will be fine as long as his Dad's home and in one piece. Problem is, it's a bit more complicated than that, and I know it ain't gonna be as simple as he hopes it will. Been there, got the t-shirt and all that. But I don't say anything, just smile and let him keep holding onto my hand, tight as he can. He doesn't let go, and we watch without any more words as the door of the coach finally budges open.

I can't help but smile, even in these circumstances, when I see Brains pass down the narrow stairs with his kit bag, followed by a girl who I think must be Richards. I've not actually met her yet, but I can tell from the way she's bouncing about like Tigger that she's the new recruit. Charles says she could even give me lessons in giving him a bloody heart attack. I like her already.

I catch Brains with a grin and a wave with my free hand, and he's over in seconds, pulling me into a hug that takes my toes off the ground, and means Sam has to let go of me.

"Dawesy! Fuckin' hell, it's been too long." He registers Sam at my side and looks a bit sheepish. "Sorry, scuse the language mate. Don't go tellin' your Dad, eh?"

Sam goes all bashful for a change, before he smirks and looks at me. I know what's coming.

"Don't worry, that's nothing compared to what Molly shouted at somebody in the traffic on the way here."

"Oi." I feel my cheeks burn for a minute. "I thought we had a deal not to mention that again?"

"The deal was, you buy me a KFC, and I don't tell Mum or Dad. You didn't mention anyone else." The shit-eating grin is another thing he's inherited from Charles, like I can't possibly argue with him. And I can't. It's some sort of genetic thing, they can both disarm me in 5 seconds with that bloody smile.

"Alright" I sigh with defeat. "You got me there. And you can add your Grandma James onto that list too." I feel a bit of a chill down my neck just at the thought of her reaction to me expanding Sam's list of swear words. She don't exactly need any more of a reason to add me to her shit list.

Sam quickly gets fed up of making me feel guilty, and moves further towards the front of the waiting crowds of people, so he can keep an eye on the rest of the group as they trail out. Brains cocks his head towards him as he shifts away. "He's a chip off the old block, eh?"

"Tell me about it. Bossman Junior." I aim my eyes at the sky, and trail off as we get to the awkward bit. The one where neither of us wants to be the first to bring up the elephant in the room.

I break first.

"Well?" I keep half an eye on the coach and cringe when I see just how bad Georgie looks as she walks past, with Fingers at her side. Not that she's ever looked bad in her life, but her eyes are black, like she ain't slept in days. I should stop her, but she walks right past like she's in a daze. Brains hasn't missed what I'm watching, and shakes his head as if to tell me I ain't seen half of it. I feel another twinge in my stomach, half sympathy and half horrible memories coming back from where I've buried them. I know the answer before I even ask the question. "How bad are we talking?"

He don't need to ask me what I mean. We've always had a bit of an understanding between us. The look he gives me tells me everything I need to know, and my heart sinks a bit more.

"The worst." He takes a deep sigh, like he's trying to pick his words carefully. "I swear, I thought we weren't comin' back..."

He trails off as we hear Georgie's mum and dad whooping and shouting with relief as soon as she comes into their line of vision. Poor Georgie looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up. I'm not sure who rolls their eyes back furthest out of the two of us at the sound, it just don't feel right to be celebrating anything in the circumstances. My attention's pulled back to Brains as he clears his throat and looks at the ground. "I thought our first tour was as bad as it gets Molls, but I might have been wrong." He sighs and lowers his voice, making sure that Sam definitely can't hear him.

"I don't mean to overstep the mark here, but I think you need to keep an eye on the Bossman. He don't seem right to me. Even before Elvis."

Fuck. What can I say to that? Course he ain't right. Who would be?

"I will" seems like the only thing I can say to reassure Brains, but he doesn't seem convinced. It's not a lie, but I'm not even sure where to start if I'm honest.

Sam starts to wander back to us, and I change the subject, hoping he won't pick up on the tension that's suddenly arrived.

"No sign of Dad."

His disappointment is obvious, and I'm suddenly filled with a horrible feeling that maybe I shouldn't have given in so easily and brought him here. It might all be a bit soon and a bit too raw for an 11 year old kid. Or for Charles. I'm not sure which one of them I need to protect more if I'm honest.

The door springs opens again, and I feel my breath catch in my chest when I see him finally stroll down the stairs with Kingy in front of him, and an unreadable look on his face.

He hasn't spotted me yet, and I see the surprise register as Sam breaks out into a run towards him. I hold back, wanting to let him have his moment with his Dad. He's been desperate to see him for weeks, badgering Rebecca about coming with me to pick him up. She'd finally given in and phoned me to ask. That was my first clue that he must have been driving her nuts, cos she'd usually rather walk through hot coals than have to deal with me while Charles is on tour.

His face brightens as soon as he sees the figure running towards him and I breathe a sigh of relief that I didn't get it wrong. I do still know what he needs. His arms wrap around Sam, pulling him into a hug, and I can't help myself any more. I need to be over there with them. I've got that usual weird feeling when we've not seen each other for months. It's a balance between wanting to jump straight into his arms, but also feeling like it might take me a bit of time to learn how to be round him again.

He looks up past Sam's head, his eyes searching the crowds till he stops at mine. All it takes is one head movement, telling me to stop being such a fucking idiot and join them, and before I know it I'm muttering an apology to Brains and joining them in a shot. He's already got Sam under one arm, and before I know it I'm tucked into another, my face buried into his chest as he kisses the top of my head. I don't miss that his fingers move round my waist and give me a reassuring squeeze round my middle. I'm only a bit bigger than usual but im beyond relieved that he's finally home to feel the change. I'm scared to look up at him, knowing how hurt he is, and everything that's gone on in the last few weeks. It feels like too much to put into words.

I can feel the sob starting to burn my throat and I push it away for now.

I feel his arm shaking as he holds me and it's enough to bring me back. His words are whispered in my ear, the relief clear in his tone as his voice catches."I've never been so fucking glad to see you in my life, Dawes."

I finally get the courage to look into his eyes, they're shimmering with the things he can't say to me at the moment. I know I must look the same. There's only one little word I can manage in the circumstances, and I choke it out before my head's buried back where it belongs.

"Ditto."

We stay that way for a while, me and Sam silently tucked under an arm each as the crowd filters out around us, and he watches the soldiers that have been under his charge leave with their families. Brains nods his goodbye to me from a distance, his message not forgotten.

—

The car's painfully quiet. The only noises are the windscreen wiper squeaking back and forwards, and the indicator tapping as I wait to turn left. 9 and a half minutes since we pulled away from the base. I know cos I've been counting them down in silence. It ain't too awkward, cos he's holding my left hand as I drive, rubbing my thumb as if he's trying to remind himself that he's actually back here.

It's raining hard now, the drops falling on the windows for just a second before the wiper clears them away again. If only it was gonna be that simple to clear whatever's going on in his nut. He stares out, watching the drops of water fall and then clear away in a pattern, still gripping my hand that's on the gearstick. He's in another world. Our fingers locked together are the only small connection between us. I count down the last thirty seconds of time in my head and catch Sam's beaming face in my mirror, exaggerating my groan when it hits ten minutes cos I know just why he's so happy.

"Just my bleedin' luck Sam. It must be a record"

"Sorry?" Charles comes back from wherever his head wandered to, and a line of confusion breaks out across his forehead as Sam giggles from the back, knowing exactly what's going on.

"Ten whole minutes in the car and you've not once taken the piss out of my driving. I owe him a tenner now." My head points to Sam in the back punching a victorious fist in the air.

He grins but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I must still be on 'dicing with death' mode. Hasn't felt any different to the last three months yet."

"Cheeky git." My hand breaks away from him to swat him in the arm as he rubs it theatrically and gives me a small smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. His attention goes to Sam for a minute, as if he's suddenly remembered that he's not really said much since we left.

"How's school Scamp, everything going ok?" I breathe a sigh of relief at the fact he's at least trying to engage in a bit of small talk. It don't last long with Sam's response, as he screws up his face and checks mine, to make sure I ain't grassed him up yet.

"Fine.."

I hold back a snort cos I know for a fact that he's being a bit fucking economical with the truth on that score. Rebecca already had a rant at me about it when I picked him up earlier today, but I ain't touching that with a bargepole. Somehow I don't think him being in hot water with the snotty headmistress is gonna go down too well with Charles. Unfortunately for Sam, he ain't in enough of a funk to have missed the looks passing between us.

"Samuel James?" The warning eyebrow's up, and even I feel a twinge of sympathy, a horrible flashback to a sandy tent in Afghan when nothing felt worse than a shitty look from the bossman. Lucky for him, Sam don't seem quite as affected, suddenly interested only in his phone as he fiddles with it. "Don't full name me Dad. It's no big deal ok?" Even I'm a bit convinced by his bravado, but I know him well enough to know he's shitting himself.

"What's happened?" The tired sigh is aimed at both of us now, but I'm doing my level best to be preoccupied with the traffic.

"There was a…." the rest is a mumble as Sam slumps down in his seat and does his best impersonation of someone who's forgotten how to speak past a whisper, still focusing on the small screen in front of him. I can't help but notice the red twinge making its way up his neck and into his cheeks. Poor sod.

"You're gonna have to help him out Sam, don't think they taught teenage mumble at Sandhurst."

Shit, was that me? I go back to being the world's most interested driver as Charles turns his whole body round in his seat to face Sam, dropping my hand in the process.

"It's no big deal."

"Yes, you've said that already, but I'd quite like to decide for myself thanks." His nose is getting pinched between two fingers now, and my sympathy levels are getting higher for Sam as time stretches on.

"There was a bit of 'an incident'.." he's using his fingers as quotation marks, which I don't think is endearing him to Charles one little bit. "..but Mrs Williams says if I do a written apology it'll be fine."

I'm not quite sure that's the same story as I got from Rebecca, but I ain't questioning it out loud.

"Christ Sam, what did you do, to have to give a written apology?" Suddenly it ain't just Sam with a bright red face. I can feel the stress levels increase in the car by the minute and I'm now wishing I'd just gone for the same solution I'd had the last time I picked him up from a tour - a room key for the nearest travelodge, and a bottle of wine waiting in the hotel room so we could spend a few hours making up for lost time. Different fucking story this time, for more than one reason.

"I….well, I.."

Sam looks at me for help, his eyes pleading. I can't take the stammering anymore without helping him out.

"He had a bit of a punch up with a lad a couple of years above, but like he said, he's gonna apologise and it'll be forgotten about."

Why the fuck did I do that? I'm already regretting getting involved as the eyebrow starts focusing on me instead of Sam. He shakes his head with a look of disbelief as he rights himself to face the front again.

He's not fuming, he's just floored. There are no words from him, just a sigh of tired acceptance. I'm not sure who's most panicky out of me and Sam at his reaction. This ain't like him; if I'd have placed a bet, I'd have gone for a bollocking followed by a 10k run in full kit, but maybe I'm just reliving my own bad memories.

"Dad?"

His voice is small and nervous, and I'm reminded for the second time today just how young he actually is as the tears start to fill his eyes. I'm a minute away from pulling over the car and giving him a hug when Charles speaks up.

"Why did you punch him?"

I seriously hope Sam gives him a better answer than the shrug I got earlier, cos I'm not quite sure how this is gonna go. Charles is quickly going back to whatever silent place he was in, and I know he needs something to pull him back.

"He said I was a liar."

His hand pulls mine towards him again so that it rests in his lap. He's making small movements up my wrist with his thumb, rubbing the veins that stand out. If I didn't know better I'd think he was taking my pulse. I'm not even convinced he's heard Sam's explanation.

"What did he say you were lying about Sam?" I try and move his confession forward since it's the most information he's come out with so far.

The whisper that follows is so low I barely hear it.

"Uncle Elvis."

Charles' hand tightens around mine as if it causes him physical pain for a second to hear the name out loud and we both glance at Sam in the mirror. The tears that were threatening are falling down his cheeks now as he continues with an apology.

"I'm sorry. Mum said I wasn't allowed to mention his name incase it made you sad." His bottom lip and chin are trembling by now, the simple fear of not wanting to upset his Dad. That finally spurs him into action and he takes a long look at me before he undoes his seatbelt while I'm still driving down the motorway. His legs brush past me as he climbs into the back to sit beside Sam and pull him towards him. I keep my eyes on the road, trying to keep a handle on the sob I can feel building in my throat.

"Don't cry Scamp." He kisses the hair on the top of his head. "You'll never make me sad talking about Elvis. I promise. Well. Not unless you remind me of the time he made me run across Manchester in full dress uniform and a buggered leg to deliver bad news."

Sam looks up at him as he sniffs again. "Did he know he was going to die Dad? Was he scared?"

All I can hear is the deep steadying breath taken from behind me. I can't bear it. How the fuck do you explain it to an 11 year old kid?

"Elvis was….he was doing a very dangerous job, but it was one he loved more than anything. He wasn't scared." The answer seems to satisfy Sam for a minute and gives him the confidence to speak again.

"I hit Harry because... he said I was making it up about Elvis being my uncle. He said I was only saying it because he's been in the newspapers. He called me a liar. So I punched him."

There's a hiccup mixed up with a sniff as Charles pulls him to his chest and smooths his hair like he's a tiny little kid again. Usually he'd be pulling away and fixing it to the style he tries to gel it in, but this is different, and he's burrowed in his lap letting him do it. I feel like an intruder on their bond for a minute till Charles looks up and brings his spare hand forward to cup my cheek. I hold it there for a minute, before I press my lips to his fingertips, trying to tell him how much I love him.

He swallows a couple of times and clears his throat, before he speaks. "Scamp. For the one and only time in your life, I'm going to say exactly what Elvis would have said."

"What would he have said Dad?"

There's silence for a beat, Charles shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. My heart's breaking for him, till he grins knowingly. I can almost hear the next words in Elvis' unmistakable voice.

"I hope you knocked the little tosser out."

I snort a laugh out, Charles is exactly right. That, combined with the childish giggles from Sam in the back of the car are enough to bring the tear that had been threatening down my cheek. I'm filled with a sudden surge of love; for the boy that's wrapped up in his Dad's arms behind me, and for the man holding him. All he's ever wanted to do is make me happy. I feel exactly the same about him.

The reassuring sweep of the wipers carries on, the rain still pounding onto the car. My eyes meet Charles' again in the mirror as he comforts Sam, and it's like the last few years, the death and the war, drop away for just a few peaceful seconds. I know the road ahead of us ain't gonna be a simple one, but the two of them are all I need to feel like our world is gonna be alright.

—-