Chapter 3

Helmand province. A few weeks later.

"Aah," Jules groaned as they came back from their third patrol that week covered in sand and dust, "I can't wait to hit the showers."

"Hey, Jules," Harris shouted, "I don't mind joining you!"

"Piss off, Harris!" Jules flipped him off.

"One day, Jules, one day." Harris laughed.

"Yeah, when hell freezes over," Jules chuckled. The last few weeks had helped to integrate Jules and Carlos into the pack.

Matt Kipling still had his suspicions but he hadn't raised them since the plane. Nobody else shared his thoughts and he had already been laughed at once, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Which is exactly where Jules liked them being kept.

"Good shooting today," Carlos slapped her on the shoulder as they headed back to their separate tents.

Jules scoffed as she held up her British issue weapon, "With these weapons? I miss my sniper rifle."

Carlos looked at her, "You know they can't do that. You're just a regular foot marine now, not a sniper."

"I know, I know," Jules sighed, feeling like she had just been told off by a parent, "I'm going to grab a shower before chow. See you in the canteen?"

"See ya," Carlos gave her a small two-fingered salute which had become their thing in the Special Tasks Force.

Jules returned it, half-heartedly, and went in the opposite direction.

As the only female in the camp, Jules had her own tent which she was very possessive about.

Dropping her weapon and pack onto an empty cot, she sat on the edge of her bed and bent over to untie her boots.

As she did so, a photograph fell from her opened breast pocket.

Her fingers paused where they were, half-way through untying her laces, as she saw the photograph staring up at her.

Swallowing, she reached out and picked up the piece of paper.

It was the size of a mug coaster, the edges had been bent and were coming apart but the image was still sharp.

Jules had managed to smuggle it out of Jackson's belongings before Ridgeway had them carted away for inspection.

She couldn't remember Jackson having it but she was glad he did, and she was even happier that she had found it when she did.

Her memories and this photograph were the only evidence that those last few years existed. Jules was beginning to already doubt her memories but she could not doubt this photograph.

It was taken sometime during their second mission together; Jules would remember that forest from anywhere.

They were all leant against a local jeep, parked in the thick woodlands. Jackson's mum had bought him a Polaroid camera for Christmas and he had sneaked it into his pack.

He had perched it between a tree and set up a small trip wire that dropped a small rock onto the button, to take the picture.

They were laughing because it had taken half a dozen takes to get the rock to fall right and they questioning Jackson's engineering skills.

 The camera had been lost in the mission. She assumed the picture had been lost too.

Ridgeway had banned all type of photographic evidence but this managed to survive.

Jules's memory of them laughing in front of that jeep was suddenly blasted away by the memory of friendly fire as they dropped bombs on their location.

How come a stupid photograph survived but not Jackson and Evans?

Her eyes began to sting, threatening to leak, so she threw the photograph to the side and grabbed her toiletries, heading to the shower before anybody could see her.

*

When Jules returned from the shower, rinsing her hair dry, she stopped dead when she saw Marc in her tent.

His back was to the entrance as she approached, setting herself up for an argument when she spotted what he had in his hand.

"What do you think you're bloody doing?" Jules snapped as she dropped her things on the cot and reached for the photograph.

But Marc stepped back and held it out of her reach, "Is this your old squad?"

"None of your business," Jules retorted, "Give it back."

"I recognise Carlos," Marc tapped the image of Carlos to the far left, "But who are the other two?"

"Give it back," Jules growled, "Before I punch you again."

"Go for it," Marc shrugged, laughing.

Jules wasted no time in launching her fist towards his jaw, her security threatened by his presence.

However Marc caught her fist in his hand easily, tutting at her, "You weren't even trying that time."

"God," Jules wrenched her hand out of his grip, "Why do you have to be so annoying?"

"Just tell me who they are and I'll give it back to you," Marc shrugged, "It's not such a bad deal."

"I can't," Jules prayed he wouldn't ask her why.

But it seemed luck was not on her side.

"Why not? Why don't you want me to see it? Are they your lovers?" Marc tried to joke but he saw the look in Jules's eyes.

"They're dead, alright?" Jules shouted, "Now will you give it back?"

"Oh," Marc lowered his hand and Jules snatched the photograph back, turning to slip it safely beneath her pillow, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah well," Jules turned towards him, she couldn't look him in the eye because she was afraid once she did she would break down, "Now, you know. You can leave."

Marc took a step closer, "Maybe- What if I didn't want to leave?"

Jules frowned and snapped her head up to look at him, his eyes were looking at her so intently that she felt naked beneath his stare, "Langdale, we-"

"-Marc," He corrected her, "I like it when you say my name."

Jules tried to stop it, her heart picking up pace, "Your name is Langdale."

Marc took a step closer, shaking his head softly.

"We can't do this," Jules told him, her regimental training kicking in, "We can't do this," she told him again when his hand descended onto her arm.

A sudden rush of air passed her lips as she felt his skin brush hers, it felt as if he was burning her, his temperature cutting through the layers of numbness she had built up around her.

Jules wasn't breathing steady, "Marc, we shouldn't . . ."

Marc leaned in closer, his hands on her elbows, smiling as she said his name, "We shouldn't, but that's half of the fun."

Jules eyes flickered down to watch his mouth and when he was mere inches away she lost her resolve and pressed her lips against his.

It had been years since she felt somebody caress her skin, since she had felt actual contact with another person.

His lips exploded against hers, his arm encircling her waist and pulling her against him, as their tongues danced together.

Jules lifted her hands to touch his face, keeping him there, as their lips were locked to each other, moans escaping the back of her throat.

Her pulse was thumping in her ears, her lungs were demanding air, but she couldn't let him go. For the first time in she did not know how longer, Jules was finally beginning to feel something that wasn't fear or adrenaline.

She wasn't sure what it was but it was abruptly cut off when there was a loud interruptive cough from outside of her tent.

Breaking apart, Jules wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she saw Carlos grinning at her from outside.

Marc looked at her, his eyes telling her to get rid of him.

"Yes?" Jules coughed.

"You coming to get some chow?" Carlos asked, taking a step inside, taking on the role of her big brother.

"Yeah, yeah," Jules nodded, "Give me a few minutes to get ready."

"Right," Carlos nodded, turning to look at Marc, "Well, I'll just wait for you outside."

Jules watched him leave, shooting daggers at his back, when Marc turned back to her, his arms reaching for her.

Jules held up her hands, telling him not to come any closer, "This never happened."

"I disagree," Marc stated, "Come and see me tonight."

Jules stared at the door where Carlos was waiting, "Are you insane? We can't!"

"Why not?" Marc shrugged, "Neither of us are officers. Meet me here at midnight." Marc slipped a note into her hand.

It would strike Jules later that he had already written the location down before he came to her tent.

Marc turned and left her tent, saying hi to Carlos on the way out as if he had just been around for afternoon tea.

Carlos raised an eyebrow when she re-appeared but he said nothing and Jules was thankful for it because she had no idea what she would have said if he had.

*

Was she selfish? People would say that she was but as she walked through the base Jules couldn't stop herself.

When Marc had kissed her earlier on, Jules had felt the first twinge of emotion since Jackson and Evans had died.

Maybe she was a bad person for doing this, for using Marc in this way, but she desperately needed to feel something.

Something other than what she was feeling right now, at least, and Marc could give her that.

Making sure no one was watching, Jules stepped into the small building where they housed the non-perishable food.

Packed into hard-cases, they lined the room on all sides.

Marc was already there, "You came."

Jules shut the door behind her and turned to face Marc, his face hidden in the darkness.

It was probably a good thing, Jules thought, she didn't need to see how his perception of her was going to change as she said, "Take your pants off."

"I'm sorry?" Marc chuckled, confused where her sudden abruptness had come from.

Jules walked past him and shifted a few of the boxes aside until the stack was waist high and she shifted back onto, bringing her level with Marc.

"I said," Jules turned and began to unstrap her belt, "Takes your pants off."

"Jules, are you alright? The photograph didn't-"

"-You didn't ask me here to talk about a photograph," Jules sighed as she removed her jacket, "I won't say it again. Take them off."

Marc did not need any more ushering as he stepped forward and captured her lips with his, his hands fumbling between them for the clasp on his belt.

As Jules heard the fling of his strap and the material hitting the ground around his ankles, her heart began to beat faster, pumping adrenaline and blood through her body.

Her skin grew warm and she gasped as it happened, her body firing to life around her. This is what she needed.

She needed to feel alive again.