If the cold air hadn't woken him up the second he'd opened the door, then the two somber faces staring back at him certainly had. A knock on the door at midnight was never going to end in something good, but somehow he still hadn't prepared himself for the fact that this could happen. When he'd said goodbye to Molly at Brize Norton that day, there was a tiny little part of him that hadn't wanted to let go of her incase she didn't come back. The rest of him hadn't even considered the possibility that something bad might happen to her- in his mind Molly Dawes was invincible.

"Sir." He barely registered what the man in front of him was saying, the dizzying reality hitting him that these two men were here because something was seriously wrong. "There's been an incident involving Private Dawes. She was flown back to Camp Bastian and is stable at the moment. They're be flying her back to the UK as we speak."

He nodded, his mouth unable to form any kind of words. Molly, his Molly, was lying in a hospital bed all alone in another country where he couldn't get to her. He wanted to ask what had happened, what her injuries were, but he knew from experience they wouldn't be able to tell him. They were simply there to deliver the message.

His thoughts went to smurfs mum. She'd been standing exactly where he was now when she'd got the news about both of her boys, and one of them hadn't come home. It had been the beginning of the end of her world, and he didn't want to consider the fact that the same thing might be about to happen to thought of seeing Molly come off that plane in a coffin was enough to make his knees buckle. Why hadn't he stopped her going out there again? He'd encouraged her to take another tour, not wanting to hold her back. The thought that she might not come back to him had never even crossed his mind.

He could suddenly understand exactly what Rebecca had been talking about. She'd said she cringed every time the phone rang or someone knocked on the door, praying it wasn't someone coming to tell her that her husband had been killed, and at the time he'd shrugged it off wondering why she worried so much. But now the situation had been reversed and he could see it through her eyes.

And Sam, his dear little Sam who'd fallen in love with Molly just as much as he had. How was he ever going to explain it to him if something happened to Molly? They'd only been talking a couple of days ago about how excited Sam was that Molly would be home in just over a month. They'd been making plans for things for the three of them to do, he couldn't even bear to think about the fact that they might not get to do any of them.

He'd moved around the house in a daze after that, grabbing some of his and Molly's things and shoving them in to a bag. As he went back in to the kitchen he caught sight of the calendar that was hanging from the fridge, where he'd been crossing off the days until Molly came home with Sam, a photo of the three of them hanging just above it.

The two hour drive the the Queen Elizabeth Hospital was absolute torture. He'd left so early the roads were virtually deserted, but it still seemed to take a lifetime. He needed to see her, with his own eyes, to hear her tell him to piss off and stop worrying. Then he could believe that she was going to be okay. Until then he didn't dare to get his hopes up.

He'd been sitting in the waiting room for around ten minutes when the ambulance finally arrived. He held his breath as they wheeled her down the corridor towards him, bracing himself for what was to come. He'd got no idea how bad the injuries were, the nurses at the hospital hadn't been able to give him any more information, he didn't even know if she was conscious.

As they wheeled her past him with a flurry of doctors and nurses surrounding the bed, he caught a glimpse of her dark hair, and then she was gone again. He was left watching through the window, trying to make out what the doctors were saying as they transferred her over on to the waiting hospital bed and began hooking her up to the various machines. She wasn't conscious, he could see the doctor stood at the head of the bed hooking her up to a ventilator to help with her breathing.

"Captain James?" He spun around to find a young nurse smiling sympathetically at him. "She asked the medics as Bastian to make sure they kept this safe, she wanted to make sure it got back to you." The nurse said, holding up the necklace she'd worn around her neck as she'd said goodbye to him- the engagement ring he'd given her before she left still hanging from the chain.

"Thank you." He choked, his fingers clasping around it tightly. "How is she doing?"

"She's stable." The nurse smiled. "You can go in and see her now they're finished, the doctor can explain everything to you then." She opened the door and gestured for him to go inside.

The first thing he noticed was how small and fragile she looked laying there, the bed seeming to dwarf her. In the background the steady humming and beeping of the machines and the quiet hiss of the ventilator as it pumped air in to her lungs.

"She's sustained some major injuries." The doctor said quietly, his face was anything but reassuring. "There's a gunshot wound to the neck, and two to her abdomen. She was incredibly lucky she didn't bleed out there and then. They've sedated her for the journey back, so she'll be out of it for a few hours yet but then she should wake up gradually. I'll come back and check on her in a bit, but I'll give you some time alone." He said, flashing a sympathetic smile at Charles before leaving the room.

"Thanks." He mumbled, his hand wiping roughly at his face as he suddenly realised he was crying. He pulled the chair up to the side of her bed, one hand grasping hold of hers and the other gently reaching for her face. She was still covered in dust and grime from the afghan desert, a neat row of stitches sitting just above her left eyebrow and he could see where the blood had dried in to her hair.

"I'm here Molly." He whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."