A/N: This is a new idea i'm trying out. Let me know what you think. Please R&R

It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Margaret James lent wearily against the door frame and stood watching her son shift uncomfortably in his sleep. The thin shaft of moonlight that filtered into the darkened room illuminated his pale face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. His face was creased with tension, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed eye lids as thin beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. Shuffling quietly into the room and gently perched on the edge of his bed, careful not to jostle his injured leg. Charles began mumbling inaudibly under his breath as his head thrashed from side to side. She caught the words Smurf, Molly and I'm sorry. Margaret reached out to caress his forehead, all the while whispering soothing words into his ear like she used to do after he had suffered a nightmare when he was younger. Gradually his tense muscles relaxed and Margaret finally allowed herself to succumb to her tears.

Charles had been home from the hospital for nearly two weeks and the road to recovery was only just beginning as he adapts back into civilian life, at least for the moment. Margaret knew she needed to remain strong if she was going to help Charles, and the rest of the family, through this difficult transition period. But if there was one thing Margaret James knew how to do well, it was cope. Charles and Richard often joked that Margaret was the glue that held their family together. It was rare there wasn't a problem she couldn't solve or a situation she couldn't fix. She was renowned for being calm, practical and unflappable under pressure and was always ready for the next challenge life threw at her. She just wished she could fix this. Her son's life was in pieces and whilst she so desperately wanted to glue the pieces back together for him, she knew her only option was to sit back and hand him the paint brush. How Charles chose to glue his life back together was his decision and his alone. She would support him no matter what.

When Charles had first announced shortly after leaving school that he intended to join the Army her heart had dropped. She had pleaded with him to consider doing a degree first just in case needed a backup plan if the Army didn't work out. Although reluctant, Charles eventually agreed and chose to study English Literature at Cambridge. Whist at university Charles had met and fallen for Rebecca and Margaret had secretly hoped that Charles would forget about joining the Army and settle down. If anything, it had only seemed to strengthen his resolve to join up and he had enrolled on the officer fast track not long after he graduated. From then on he lived and breathed the Army. Margaret had no choice but to accept his choices and learn how to cope. After nearly a decade in service and enduring four tours of Afghanistan she had become accustomed to the endless cycle of fear and dread her life had become. She had learnt to live with the constant bubble of fear that had taken residence in her chest, choosing to lock away the anxiety and it all in a little box under the stairs. Some days she felt her life was a roller coaster of emotions; as though she was on a never-ending merry go round left to wonder when she could get off and place her feet back on solid ground.

The last few years had had a profound effect on Charles. His experiences in Afghanistan had changed him. It was only now that Margaret had realised just how much. Although she was proud of his achievements as he swiftly advanced up the ranks, Margaret couldn't help but feel that over the years the Army had slowly chipped away at her boy piece by piece until she barely recognised him. His separation from Rebecca followed shortly after by the loss one of his men had certainly been one of the darkest chapters in Charles' life. For some reason he felt he had failed at his marriage and failed to do his job properly by not bringing that private home alive. Charles had been wracked with guilt and felt like a failure. Never mind the fact that he had bravely crawled 200 metres on his belly under enemy fire to bring the body of Private Smith back safely to his family. Both incidences had taught Charles a valuable life lesson. Never get emotionally involved. And he hadn't since. It was as though he was sleepwalking through his own life; only ever feeling alive when out in theatre. He became so serious and distant, keeping everyone, even family, at arm's length. It was as if Charles had built a wall around himself to prevent anyone from getting close to him; or he to them. He was practically unreachable.

But then something changed. She couldn't pinpoint who or what was responsible for the shift but Charles seemed lighter, more optimistic about the future since he had begun rehab. At first Margaret had put it down to Charles having a near death experience and not wanting to waste the second chance he had been given. But judging by the number of phone calls and letters he had been receiving lately, there was definitely more to the story. Although reluctant to talk about the events that led to him getting shot, all Charles would say was that he was only alive thanks to the quick actions of his medic. Margaret didn't miss the emphasis when Charles said 'my' medic, nor the way his eyes lit up whenever when he talked about her. Margaret had even caught him fighting the urge to smile and laugh every time he read one of her texts or emails. Oh yes, Margaret had her son back alright and it was all thanks to a cheeky Cockney medic named Molly Dawes. Margaret couldn't wait to see how this chapter played out.