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.