Our Girl 1. A Quiet Understanding

**A/N- This comes just after Molly gets her package thrown at her in episode 1. Don't forget to drop a comment in there, it means a lot to have all of your support! Disclaimer: all rights belong to the BBC! Enjoy :)**

Molly sat herself down on her bed and looked around her, overwhelmed. She knew that the boyish joke was just friendly banter but she wasn't really used to this level of bombardment, especially now Smurf spilled the beans about 'round the back of the Indian takeaway in Guildford'. She couldn't even look at any of them now that she was branded as a slut for the rest of the tour.

Cradling her package from her mum in her arms, she stared around her at the harsh light streaming through the canvas and wondered if she could ever call this place home. Inside the package she found bright pink nail polish and a face mask kit. Not exactly the kind of thing a woman in the army should be using, but at the same time she wished she could shrug off the hard exterior that she used in the army and have ten minutes to herself where she could just do anything she wanted. The letter from her mum made her even more homesick and by the end, a small tear had fallen to the page and smudged the messy ink. Molly lay back on her bed, infinitely lonely and wishing she was worlds away from the scorching heat of Afghanistan.

"Private Dawes to report to- Are you alright Molly?" An unfamiliar face appeared in the entrance of her tent as Molly quickly wiped her tears away. She recognised him to be Mansfield Mike.

"Just having a crap time, mate and your accent's not making it any better." Despite this, he came and perched himself on the edge of her bed, not wanting to intrude but with the intention of helping.

"Homesickness, right?" he asked roughly, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that she'd never heard before.

"Maybe, what's it to do with you?" She hated putting on an outer shell but couldn't help it. What if Mike was just playing with her in some kind of sick joke?

"I... I get it sometimes too, you know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper. "But don't tell the lads or they'll just take it out of me again."

"I won't." There was a pause.

"And I don't even care what Smurf said about you. We all make mistakes, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well then they can't judge you for something they've done too."

"Thanks Mike," Molly replied, wiping her eyes and shoving the ox full of girly goodies under her bed.

"Right," he cleared his throat. "Private Dawes to report for duty at 0900 hours. See ya Molly."

Throughout the day, Molly received frequent visitors to her tent, all of them explaining that they didn't care about the Indian takeaway. Suddenly, Molly felt much better about the upcoming tour, and the people that she now trusted with her life also trusted her.


	2. Harmonies and Hearts

**A/N- this one's a bit longer but I'm sure no one's complaining ;) This one comes from episode 2 after Captain James gives the lyrics to Molly. Please don't forget to follow/favourite/review it literally means everything! Enjoy :)**

Molly looked down at the crumpled piece of paper handed to her earlier by Captain James. She frowned to herself as she didn't recognise the song he'd chosen, but then she didn't expect to. She wiped her brow and continued to scan over the lyrics, exhausted from the heat of the long day behind her.

Molly remembered the fleeting brush of fingers and the extended eye contact between them and smiled to herself, longing for more time to spend with the captain to get to know him better. Although she felt like she knew him inside out already – how far he would go to save someone's life, what he looks like at five o'clock in the morning without coffee – she found she didn't know the small details. She wanted to know where he lived when he wasn't in Afghanistan, what his favourite colour was and if he had any brothers or sisters like she did. With all this thinking about siblings before long she abandoned the lyric sheet and picked up her sister's letter again.

"Come back to me soon," it read, before she had signed it in careful black biro. Molly glanced at the photo of her ever-smiling sister and sighed. She couldn't go back if she tried. The more she thought about it, the more Molly realised that going back home would break her heart more than it would to be in Afghanistan. This was the real deal here. When you've seen men bleed nearly to death and been in the firing line of terrorists then everything else seems trivial. In her sister's letter she talked about how Mr Bell had given too much homework the other day and about how she was glad to have a room all to herself. Molly decided not to reply. After all, what could she say? That she was blown up by a mine the other day? The two worlds of home and war were complete opposites, and Molly just hoped they would never collide.

"Dawes?" Molly jumped in fright then quickly wiped the tear from her eye before turning to face Captain James. How long had he been stood there?

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You didn't half scare me sir. I nearly dropped bombs in my pants!" she said, making the captain chuckle.

"I see you've been examining your lyrics, Dawes. They need to be learnt by tomorrow evening. The concert starts at 2000 hours."

"But sir, I ain't even heard of the tune," Molly replied. Her heart beat a little faster when his smile crinkled his eyes and she wondered whether the light and sunburn would kindly combine to hide her spreading blush.

"I don't know what you've been listening to but clearly not the best song in the world," he said jokingly. "We'll just have to practise it."

"When, sir?"

"Well there's no time like the present is there, Dawes?" The captain raised himself on to his tip-toes, showing his eagerness to get going.

"I was just about to pack it in sir. It _is_ nearly midnight."

"Adds to the fun," he winked. "Follow me."

Molly willingly obeyed, exiting the medic's tent just behind him and following him into a tent she'd never been in before. A mixture of excitement and tiredness made her giddy as she realised what this whole gesture could be interpreted as. Inside the tent was a single bed and on top of that, the covers were as flat as the desert. On the walls were maps and sketches, as well as small photographs that Molly assumed were family. Propped up against the bed was a small keyboard and a couple of sheets of paper were scattered around the floor.

"So this is your kip room, sir?" she asked, smiling as the homeliness of it.

"I don't really..." The captain trailed off and looked down at his boots like they were the most interesting things in the world. "I don't really sleep much."

Molly didn't know how to reply to this. No amount of gossiping around the back of the bike shed at school could prepare her for these situations. Normally her words came instantaneously but whenever she was around him she had to think things through a bit more.

"I don't know what to say, sir," she finally whispered as the flatness of the bed covers made sense. "I mean, you must take a nap sometimes, or you wouldn't be alert would you?"

"Coffee normally does the trick. I can't because every time I close my eyes I can see such terrible things. This place follows me into my sleep. I see hell in my dreams which is foreboding for the future. When the war is over it still rages on inside of my head... Anyway," He sat down on the bad, creasing the sheets beneath him, and slid the keyboard onto his lap. "I'm still in shock that you don't know the song. Bloody disappointing, Dawes. Do you even listen to music?"

"Actually no," she replied, her serious tone contrasting with his joking one. "We never really had the money for cassettes or CDs when I was a kid and then I never really got into it after that."

"In that case, in one night I'm going to make up for a lost childhood. No music? Please, take a seat and I'll show you. Be prepared to hear the most amazing keyboard player on this earth!" He put on the voice of a voice-over from the X Factor and Molly giggled whilst she sat down beside him. The bed was surprisingly comfy, which wasn't good for her sleep-deprived state. "It's time! To face! The music!"

Molly was in awe of the agility of his fingers as he played the backing track from the proposed song. He sang the bits that he was meant to sing and Molly joined in when she had gotten the hang of it. She didn't comment on his awful singing for once and just enjoyed the moments they lived together. Once they had mastered 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' (which took a considerable amount of time), James' fingers slid over jazz and rocked out to 90s hits.

"This is my favourite symphony of Bach's," the captain said. "Listen how there are two completely separate concertos to it and you'd never think in a million years they'd join but in the third they combine to create a perfect harmony." He looked down at Molly who was already gazing at him. "Sound familiar?"

"Sir, it would if I knew what a simpany or a conchertoy was." The utter confusion on her face made the captain laugh as he continued to play.

He may have made a wrong note or two but that didn't matter to Molly. She marvelled at how the same fingers that pulled triggers and took lives could master the piano and glide so gracefully over its keys.

It was just when he was playing the theme from James Bond when she started to feel her eyes go heavy. She glanced at her watch and realised it was three in the morning and the 2 section met up at five. Molly put her hand over his gently and looked up at him through bleary eyes. She noticed he had gorgeous chocolate brown eyes that she found she couldn't look away from.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered. It didn't matter what was going on outside in the camp because everything was happening right there and then. It was as if that moment was the turning point of the universe.

"Dawes, I- You do realise that if anyone knows that you've been here tonight I'll have the officers on my heels like blood-thirsty wolves."

"I understand, sir." There was silence. It wasn't an unbearable or awkward silence but a silence between two people who do not need to speak the words they mean, because the other one already knows it.

"Molly, I-"

"Sir?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm glad you liked the music."

"Loved it, sir. Never heard anything like it."

"Maybe you'd like to come round again soon. I can teach you to play if you like," he offered, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"I'd love to do this again, sir," Molly replied. "I ain't ever gonna be as good as you but I can bloody well try."

"That's the spirit, Dawes," he said as Molly stood up and rubbed her eyes. "You rest up; it's a big day tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow, sir."

"Quite right. The time just slipped away from us."

"I hope you sleep well, sir," Molly said as she neared the entrance of the tent. "I mean it."

There was another silence in which both of them simultaneously wondered whether to go for a handshake or a hug. It turned out to be neither as the captain glanced at a folded piece of paper on the floor, picked it up and gave it to her.

"Can't forget your lyrics," he smiled.

""No, sir," she replied, taking it off him.

Their hands fleetingly brushed and they both immediately looked up at eachother. Molly exited the tent and found that it took all she could to contain herself from skipping back to her quarters. She glanced back to see him still standing there, his tall figure silhouetted by the warm golden glow coming from his tent.

This was all they needed. No handshake, no hug. No more homework from Mr Bell, no more lying sleepless in the moonlight. No more drunken midnights at the club, no more time wasted on trivial things. No more nights without music, no more days without each other. No more looking back and no more broken hearts.


	3. Beauty in War

**A/N: I freaking love Qaseem, does this some across in the story? ;) I think a lot about Molly having lessons in the Afghan culture it's fab. This is from episode 3 but I guess it could be from any. Enjoy :)**

It was not rare to find Molly Dawes deep in conversation with Qaseem, trying to make sense of the culture that lay beyond the protective army bubble that they lived in. She was often seen pulling funny faces as she tried to pronounce words that were unfamiliar to her tongue and using extravagant hand gestures that helped her to envisage the vast array of things that she didn't understand when she was on patrol.

Molly's eagerness to learn astounded even herself as she previously thought herself to be a hopeless case, and it was this eagerness that impressed Qaseem who was now more than willing to teach her about his beautiful homeland.

Occasionally a few jokes were played on her and instead of teaching her to say, "Thank you for your kindness," Qaseem taught her, "Your feet stink of piss," which entertained the Afghan soldiers no end.

The only person who was not amused was the mysterious Sohail who kept out of conversation whenever the soldiers from both armies interacted with each other as a result of Molly and Qaseem's lessons. Sohail was usually the one to terminate the meetings, sending Qaseem to fetch water or do some other menial task which disbanded the group.

"Hal e shoma chetoor ast," Qaseem said slowly and patiently.

"Hal e shoma chetoor ast," Molly copied falteringly, smiling in relief when she finished.

"Yes, and that means how are you," Qaseem rewarded her. There was a brief silence.

"Qaseem, do you think that Afghan will ever be peaceful?"

"I can only pray for it to be restored to its former beauty. It is not up to me what happens in my country. I can only aid to do what's right."

"What about after that?"

"I have nothing to go back to," he sighed dejectedly. "My whole family are dead-"

"Well we are your family now. You could come to London and stay with me. Stay off Newport though, it's full of tossers like Smurf."

"Then maybe you should too stay away from the new port there. You could come and visit me when I'm old and grey. When this land is beautiful again. No more killing. No fighting. You'd like it. I'd like it."

Molly looked up into Qaseem's golden eyes which, although cheerful on the outside, held a deep unsaid sadness in them. There was also a fiery hopefulness and a thirst for peace and unity which brimmed over the edge of his eyes and spilled out through his speech and eagerness to teach. Over the next weeks and months of her service, Molly started to see the beauty in the country to which she'd been deployed. Every mountain, every valley, every flower, every running stream, every sunset, every life was suddenly so beautiful.


	4. School Girl Storm

**A/N: This is a scene from sometime during the final episode. I feel I kind of wanted to see more of her sassiness in that episode but that's okay. Enjoy :)**

"Just lie back and relax. Think about that day. Smell the air. Feel the breeze on your face. Breathe it in, Molly. Nod if you are there. Good. Now, tell me everything you see."

"We enter the stadium and what hits me first it that it's so green. It's like a sort of paradise. Smurf's jabber echoes around the stadium and I just stand there happy to be with my best mate again. Suddenly he whips his jacket off and he's so happy. With a look of pure concentration on his face, dribbles an imaginary ball over to the goal. I laugh at his childishness 'cos it's like he's back at school. He scores the goal and begins his victory lap, his arms high, looking up to the sky. I bet he can hear the crowd cheering him on in his head, chanting him name. He falls to the floor and I think nothing of it; he's probably just so glad to be here, enjoying the moment. Or maybe he's pulling my leg. I ain't falling for it. I notice his body shaking and can just make out some faint noises. This isn't right. I run towards him. By the time I get to him he's white. Whiter than he normally is. My training kicks in but all I can look at is his unseeing eyes, glazed over already. I—"

"I think that's enough now, don't you?" Dr Thorne had such an annoying look on his face. He had a weedy smile and he licked his lips twenty times too many, whilst squinting at me through his beetle-like eyes which blinked annoyingly. He made me want to rip his face off and stuff it somewhere no one would ever be able to see it. Charles suggested I went there after I had consecutive nightmares about that particular moment. One morning I awoke on the floor and Charles had wrapped himself around me. At first I wondered if we'd had one too many but Charles later told me that I was screaming and sobbing for someone to wake up and stay with me. I waited for Dr Thorne to ask me a competent question, and it seemed it would be a while.

"Tea?"

"No thanks, mate."

"Ok, on to the session," he said, licking his lips. It made me extremely uncomfortable. "So were you close to this 'Smurf'?" He leered as he said Smurf's name, and I tried very hard to restrain myself from throttling him.

"Smurf was my best mate, actually," I said matter-of-factly, I can't stand pussy-footing around. "He was always there for me, a shoulder to lean on. He was great."

"Ok, and have you ever had any... sexual relationships with this man?"

"What's it to you?" I replied. Inwardly smiling, I thought about the fact that if it were Smurf in that chair he would have bragged about 'round the back of the Indian takeaway' for hours. God, I missed him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dr Thorne smiled. I frowned, knowing I couldn't really contradict if I was to tell the truth, but it frustrated me all the same. "When people have a one-on-one encounter they tend to be closer as a couple-"

"Smurf and me wasn't a couple. Ever," I corrected.

"Denial. Interesting." He scribbled something in his notebook and looked back up at me with his watery grey eyes. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, wanting immensely not to argue back. I promised Charles I would get through this so I would. "And, tell me, when you spent time together in Afghanistan, did anything ever... happen?"

"I told you that we were best mates and that's all there was to it. Nothing ever happened."

"That's not what I've been informed by other members of the section." I sighed internally.

"Yeah, but they're not the most trustworthy of sources."

"I've done my homework, and when you were on leave with him, you spent time together both in Newport and in London, and apparently you planned to go on holiday to Las Vegas with him."

"Yeah, as mates!" I was starting to get very frustrated with this man. Was he here to interrogate me about my relationship with Smurf or was he here to help me get over the death of my best mate?

"Well, it seems to me that your relationship was rather intimate. This makes it even harder to let go of those you've lost." I cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms, knowing that the rest of the session would be a waste of time if he wasn't prepared to understand my situation. "You've continued in the army, yes?"

"Yeah, I train new medics," I replied, thankful that the topic had changed.

"You now have a long term partner who used to serve alongside you in the forces, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right, and?"

"It seems that you've developed a stable and happy life with your new partner. You have a good career and a bright future ahead of you." He sounded like a teacher from high school. "My advice to you is to forget about Smurf. Forget about all the memories you have about him. He was just another promiscuous man in your life and just because he died it doesn't mean you should keep hurting because of it."

"Now, you listen here," I had had just about enough. This man had made me recall a very painful part of my life and hadn't used it to help me at all. He had insulted my best mate and me and it just sent me over the edge. I never had a good temper anyway. "Smurf was an absolute cockwomble but he was my best mate in the world. Yeah, we made mistakes but that didn't matter in the end. Smurf was an idiot but he was my idiot. You're insulting someone who's not here to defend himself, how low can you get? He's lying six feet under but he's still more useful than the slob sitting in the chair in front of me."

And with that, I stormed out of the room, a silent smirk registering on my face, feeling like a school girl yelling at a teacher all over again, and it felt good.

**P.S. Thank you guys so much for all of the support it's just made my life lol. Please continue to it would mean a lot. Thanks :D**


	5. Putting the 'Bad' in 'Badminton'

**A/N: I'm having serious Our Girl drawbacks :'( A bit of fanfiction has cheered me up though :D This chapter is from episode five when they are in decom in Cyprus (thanks to the guest who prompted). Enjoy :)**

"Hey Dawesy, aren't you gonna have some beer to cheer you up a bit?"

"Molly, have a drink, it'll to you good."

"Get some bitter down ya Mols, you'll forget about it all in no time."

But Molly didn't feel like downing a pint of beer with the lads from 2 section. She didn't want to forget about it all. She couldn't let herself forget about what had essentially been her fault.

"No thanks, mate," she politely replied to the others, met with uproar. It seemed that they were intent on getting her absolutely pissed. Enclosed in a shell of her own thoughts, she only heard snippets of conversations.

"Mate, I used to be scared to lose my memory," she heard Fingers disclose drunkenly to Dangleberries. "What I wouldn't give to forget a thing or two now." Dangleberries nodded in agreement, and it was clear to Molly that her actions had affected them in ways that couldn't be solved by a bandage or a couple of stitches. These were wounds that could be taken to the grave if not treated with the right amount of attention and respect.

The section had only been in Cyprus for one night, but already there was a nervous tension in the air, sensed only by those who were there on that day. Those who had fired fruitlessly at a hidden enemy, who had witnessed their captain fall to the ground and one of their best mates trying to treat two seriously injured soldiers at the same time, who had watched helplessly as their comrades were airlifted off with no knowing of whether they would ever see them again. Molly could sense that people were trying to patch themselves up after one of the biggest missions they would go on in Afghan. People had different ways of dealing with it: messing around with their mates, talking it out or drinking to forget. It was then that she realised that her 'getting involved' had consequences for the rest of the section too.

Racked with guilt, she tried to picture the captain before his face was etched with pain in the severe Afghan sunlight. She struggled to remember his deep brown curls and his chocolate-coloured eyes, his sharp jaw line and the way his lips brushed against hers for a fleeting second. She could picture golden sunlight raining down on them as he etched 'Rosabaya' onto her arm and she hadn't washed it for a week. She remembered the excitement of trying to hide a relationship under the noses of the officers. In between remembering, flashes of his mutilated leg and the hole in his stomach that bled out his life.

"Hey Mols what's that 'round your neck?"

Molly quickly looked down and realised that she'd neglected to remove Smurf's ring from the chain. She supposed it just felt right to still have it there. Thinking back, she would have never thought her relationship with Smurf would ever get this far. He was just a quick shag, an escape from the family for an hour or two, and now about two years later he'd proposed to her with his mother's ring. She didn't see Smurf in that way, but she could see them spending the rest of their lives together, if he came out alive, that was.

"Keep your fat nose out, mate," she snapped whilst tucking her – no Smurf's – ring back down her top, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the strange looks she was getting. "What you all looking at? It's a bloody ring, that's all." She saw a few of them raising their eyes suggestively, but after her look of death was shot at them they all stared at their feet as if their shoes were the most interesting things in the world.

"Anyone for a game of badminton?" someone piped up, and as all drinks were abandoned the group of drunken men staggered outside, overwhelmed by the intensity of sunlight. Molly smiled to herself as some things would never change.

"Ain't you coming out Dawesey?" Nude Nut had stayed behind to check on her.

"Trust me mate, I put the bad in badminton."

"You haven't been yourself since... you know."

"Has anyone?"

"I know but they're all outside joining in and you won't even have a drink."

"Yeah, well I don't drink anymore."

"There's something else isn't there?"

"Nope, I'm just crap at badminton."

"Well won't you just come and watch then?" He put on his best smile.

"What, watch you all make tossers of yourselves? Tempting. I'll join you in a minute."

The dulcet shouts of a group of utter cockwombles who were off their heads floated gently on the light breeze and Nude Nut rushed off to join them, dragging Molly along with him.

**P.S. Don't forget to review, follow and favourite, I will love you forever! Also, if you've got any ideas just comment it and I'll give it a whizz. Thank you!**


	6. Nightmare

**A/N: thank you guys so much for all the support! Please keep reviewing and following and favouriting, I love you all so much! Okay, here's the next chapter, I'm thinking of doing it in Smurf's POV too, so what do you think? Enjoy :)**

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Look at this! Look at this Mummy! I drawn a Daddy! Look!" Molly wondered how she had ever gotten into the situation where a small child was tugging on her trouser leg, gazing up at her with big pleading eyes. The same colour as Charles'. For a moment she was transfixed on the eyes and the face and the way that her baby boy was an exact copy of her wonderful husband, marvelling at the amazing sculpture of the human being before her.

"Daddy?" she whispered. "Where's Daddy?" She was pulled rather forcefully down the steep staircase. The banisters were lit up with fairy lights and encircled with carefully wrapped-around golden tinsel. As they rushed down the staircase a sharp gust of wind rocked the shimmering chandelier as it reflected pearly light onto the walls. Molly noted that it looked just like Charles had described it to her all those years before in Afghanistan. One slight deviation: lining the pristine walls were the unmistakeable marks of five sets of hands which had been dipped in outrageous shades of paint and slapped on the wall. The perfect picture of a family.

"Look! Look! Look! It's a Daddy!" Molly's heart sank. It was like she was responsible for the pudgy lines slapped with the utmost precision onto the paper. It was as if she was responsible for the fact that that her son had said 'a Daddy' and not 'my Daddy'. The stick man slowly fell to the bottom of the page and thick crimson blots stained the page. A slightly shorter stick person ran on the paper and knelt down beside the man and that was when it dawned on Molly that it was entirely her fault. Background chords of the incessant rain of bullets and the cries of inconceivable pain being emitted from a usually fearless man combined to cause a harrowing cacophony that repeated itself over and over in her head. A tide of hopelessness washed in and she wallowed in grief and pain.

Her son tugged impatiently on her sleeve, impatiently waiting for the verdict but his mother couldn't compose herself, not this time. She fell to the floor, and just before she blacked out she could feel a weak pull on the end of her sleeve.

Huge gasps of oxygen flooded her lungs and harsh light rained onto her sensitive eyes as she blinked, waking up. Molly sensed that she was leaning on something soft, and in her sleep-deprived state she moved her head slightly to get comfortable, intending to go back to sleep.

"Sleep well Mols?"

The 'dulcet' Welsh tones reached her disorientated mind, and she mulled each letter in her head. No. It can't be him. She blinked to clear her bleary eyes and everything came into focus. Smurf's pale face came into view. It was so close that she could make out the dark circles underneath his eyes and the nervous twitch in his left nostril. Separating herself from his muscular frame she saw he had a furry dressing gown on over a hospital gown. It then hit her.

"Not really, mate," she replied groggily. "I had a terrible nightmare."

"Want to talk about it?" he offered, a look of genuine concern etching his face. Molly began to comprehend the environment she woken up into. There was a quiet, peaceful atmosphere as doctors and nurses went about their tasks and ordinary, slightly tired-looking folk waited on plastic blue chairs. Molly looked straight ahead and saw the sight she did not ever want to see. The man she loved most in this world was lying on a hospital bed un-breathing, un-seeing. It was clear from the consistent beeping of the heart rate monitor that he was still alive, but looking upon his deathly pale face, you would never know.

"Not now Smurf," she whispered. "But thanks."

It was then that she realised she was hanging in the balance. Her life could go one way or the other and it depended on these next few days and the two men she loved. She could be like at the start of her dream: happy and sharing the fantastic responsibility of children with Bossman, or she could be in a nightmare looking after children with no father. And if there was ever any point when she had doubted the existence of God it was forgotten now as she prayed so very hard for the man in the bed in front of her to wake up as if he had come from a deep sleep and to be absolutely fine. She prayed so hard, her willingness spilled over into her tears and her shaking body. Molly had never wanted something so much in her life.

"Are you okay?" Smurf asked, sensing her body shaking silently against his. She shook her head and rested her head once again on his shoulder, desiring for the captain to wake up and for this to all be a stupid dream. After a while she felt his comforting arm slide around her and they sat like that for a while, awaiting nervously the news of the morning.


End file.
