A/N: So, part 2. I have been inspired by all your lovely comments, these genuinely interesting characters, and just generally the gripping drama of it all. Also, I needed to do something to help me get over the shock of the ending last night! Please review and let me know what you think, happy reading :)

A loud whirring in the skies above alerted Captain James to the imminent arrival of the helicopter, and with it the two returning members of his section. The words of the Afghan captain beside him melted into nothingness as he clapped him on the shoulder and took off towards the gate of the compound, the pit of his stomach suddenly alight with anticipation. As he ran up the steps of the battlement, James tried to conceal his smile; the delighted cheers from 2 Section could only mean that Dawes and Smurf had returned in one piece. Apparently, literally in one piece.

"He's been hanging out her back doors all R&R believe me", Mansfield whooped loudly.

"What's that?" James snapped.

Pleaseletmehavemisheardthatpleasesaythey'vegotitwrongpleasepleaseplease.

"Well have a look! We said goodbye to the boy and hello to the man sir."

Ohfuck.

As the bile rose in this throat, James turned on his heel, wanting to put his men behind him for a moment, wanting to forget what he had just heard. He stormed towards his tent, shedding his protective gear as he went. Knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid the welcome back, James knew he needed to give himself enough time to calm down, to put his captain's face on, to avoid betraying himself. He told himself that his anger was about the irregularity of the situation, about the bending of the rules, the breaking of army protocol. It definitely, absolutely wasn't about the breaking of his heart.

Clouds of dust billowed around their feet as they pounded towards the gate. As they drew nearer, Molly tried to tell herself that the butterflies in the pit of her stomach were about making it into the compound in one piece. But when the gate swung shut behind her and Smurf, and the fluttering only got worse, she knew it was something more.

Whereishewhereishewhereishe.

Within seconds of dropping the rucksack from her back, Molly felt herself being scooped in the arms of her comrades. They were delighted to see her, and she was delighted to see them in one piece. But still whereishewhereishe.

Finally, after pulling eye drops and boxers and Marmite and all the other miscellaneous shit she had been charged with bringing home (funny that she now thought of Afghan as her home), she glanced up and saw the one person she had really been looking for since she left English soil. And he did not look happy. This was not the same man who had so gently inscribed the name of that bloody coffee on her arm, who had inscribed his name on her heart. That moment in the med tent, when anything had seemed possible, suddenly seemed a lifetime ago.

"Alright boss?", she offered him a tentative smile, hoping that it would hide the emotion she felt sure was written all over her face; the mixture of hope, and longing, and Christ the love she had for her captain. Now, in front of all their colleagues, she knew was not the time to ask him what was going on.

"Alright Dawes," came the straight-faced, less than friendly reply. As James explained they would return to Bastion, Molly only felt her discomfort grow. Something had changed between them, and it seemed the flirty banter that had come so easily between them before had been left behind with that change.

As she handed over with Jackie, Molly was glad of a few moments to gather her thoughts. Two weeks away from Afghan had only served to strengthen her feelings for James, but it seemed two weeks away from her had only done the opposite for him. She ran through Jackie's notes as she mulled over in her mind what could have happened In her absence to make the captain seem so distant. The story of Mansfield's latest mishap provided only a split second of distraction however, before his voice cut in, making her jump.

Once the other medic and her escort had left the tent, James seemed to relax slightly. Despite the crossed arms and serious expression, Molly thought his face had softened, almost imperceptibly. Very imperceptibly. He gave little away when she asked after him, and barely acknowledged it when she told him she was glad to be back. It was only when she mentioned his new boots and those sodding blisters that he gave himself away. Gotcha. You do care still, she thought, as she watched him scramble to cover his error.

And when he said, "Are you really glad to be back?", she knew for sure that the game wasn't yet over.

Molly tried to pour everything she felt for him, tried to remind him of his request and her promise in that same tent two weeks ago, when she told him she wanted to come back. Rewarded with a sudden twitch at the corner of his mouth, and a slight sparkle in his eyes, her hopes soared for a moment.

And then Kinders – bloodyEggyalwayssoddinginterrupting – yelled, "Oi Molly, you went to bloody Newport and you weren't a hostage?!" She laughed at first, thinking little of it.

Then James asked, "You went to Newport?", and she saw that little light in his eyes vanish. In an instant she realised what he must be thinking, but then the boys stormed in, and he stormed out, and it was too late to explain, and she was left thinking only one thing.

I've lost him already. Oh fuck.