losttheright | oh, you're gonna lose your soul tonight

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oh, you're gonna lose your soul tonight

Somehow, it doesn't come as a surprise when she wakes up alone.

Losing Russell and Andrea in one go the way she had, Molly had been thrown for a loop to say the least, left in a state of panic dangerous for her condition at the time, feeling like her entire world had just given way from under her feet. Mindy going not long after hadn't exactly helped much, though she had been preoccupied with Abigail at the time, sleep-deprived and exhausted and not able to stop to pay it too much mine. Before then, there had been any number of others she'd lost, close friends, people who might have been something a little more than that if given half the chance. Lisbeth, Chase, even Stephen, who she still thinks about more often than she would ever admit to, they'd all left her thrown. And it isn't like this doesn't, not by a long shot.

It's just that, sooner or later, she was bound to grow numb to it, and when she finds Lee gone, tries to call him only to hear an automated message that his phone has been disconnected, the most she feels is a hollow emptiness in her chest and the sense that she should have seen this coming.

Then again, for all she knows, time has nothing to do with it. She hasn't felt right since Abby was born, since before then, just waiting for something to click into place that still has yet to come. The other people she knows with children, they're good at it, they're happy about it. Even when it's hard, it seems like something that makes sense. That's never been the case for her. She's always been good with kids, but apparently that doesn't extend to her own, probably in no small part because that connection is something she just seems to be lacking. Oh, she can fake it alright, she can go through the motions and do what she needs to, but that doesn't change the fact that it's been a long time since she felt like herself, with no end to it in sight. Once or twice, she's tried looking it up to find out if that's normal, seen some terms thrown around, read that for people who've been through some of the shit she has, this transition and experience can often be more difficult. Whether there's a clinical term for it or not, though, something is missing. That, apparently, is also the case when it comes to trying to process the fact that Lee is gone, that she's here now on her own with a baby that she's never really known what to do with, just a couple of weeks away from going back to work.

In all the years she's been in Darrow, for the most part, Molly hasn't done much thinking ahead. It's enough just to be here, to know that she gets to have something at all, and if that time runs out, well, so be it. Now, that's just about the only thing she can do, to try to determine where she's going to go from here, because God knows she hadn't considered that this might be where she would wind up, twenty-five and a single parent. Nearly five more years of life than she was ever supposed to get back home is still a big fucking deal, but that's all the more reason why she can't waste what she has. She needs to let herself have a life. She needs to do what's right for both of them, and even before she was on her own with this, she wasn't sure that it was something she would be cut out for. It just seemed like she didn't have another choice. Like she said to Lee once, though, there are choices, and that hasn't changed just because Abby is almost three months old now. Somewhere out there, there's got to be someone who would be thrilled to raise a little girl. When she considers it like that, she isn't really sure that there's even a decision to be made.

Still, it isn't as if she can do any of this impulsively, not least when she doesn't exactly trust herself with it. So, instead, she does the only thing that makes sense: she pulls herself out of bed, calls a babysitter, dresses in jeans and a button-down shirt, curls her hair and puts on a little makeup. Before she leaves the apartment — and, God, she doesn't think she can stay here for very long — she sends texts to Katie and Clarke, two of the only friends she's got left and the two people she trusts the most, to see if they're around for her to stop by. Either one of them, she has no doubt, would tell her if she's making a mistake by even letting this be an option. Deep down, though, it already doesn't feel like one.

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Katie's just playing with Jamie when she gets the text, and she sends back a quick reply, letting Molly know to come on over. If there's a particular reason for the visit, she doesn't know, but it doesn't much matter yet. It's just nice to see Molly. With Abigail on hand, she's understandably been pretty busy lately, but it's been even more of a relief to see her since Russell left. Every chance to be with loved ones is a blessing.

"Alright," she says to Jamie when the knock at the door comes, and kisses the top of his head. "You keep coloring and I'm gonna go say hi to Molly, okay?" He nods, contentedly distracted at the kitchen table as she heads for the door and opens it.

"Hey, come on in."

"Hey," Molly says, the word a heavy exhale, and though it's accompanied by a smile, she worries for half a second that she might just burst into tears on the spot. She's just so tired. She has been, really, for months, but it's like she's only now becoming aware of how true that is, and feeling it all at once as a result. Between Russell and Andrea disappearing, Abigail being born, and these past weeks that have followed, waiting to start feeling something that's seemed perpetually just out of reach, it's been a long, rough road, and now it's gotten rougher. Whatever she does here, that's probably going to be the case for a long while.

With so much ahead of her, it's hard to fight the instinct to start trying to list all the things she needs to do, but she manages, instead shrugging off her coat once she's stepped inside, buying herself a moment's time that way. "I'm glad you were around. How are you guys?"

"Good," Katie says. "Jamie's coloring, so he's happy." If asked to list the signs, given a little time, Katie probably could, but she doesn't process things that way now. All she knows is, looking at and listening to Molly, something isn't quite right. She's known her long enough to see it now.

Leading her over to the couch where they're out of Jamie's hearing, she sits down and waits for Molly to follow suit. "How about you?"

It's a harder question to answer than it should be, but the truth of the matter is, Molly doesn't know. She's running on autopilot, without a clue as to what she's supposed to do next. Just a few months ago, she'd been having a panic attack in the park after finding out that two of her closest friends are gone. Now she doesn't have the energy for that, feeling dazed more than anything else, without a clue as to what she's supposed to do.

All she can really do, she supposes, is come right out with it. There's no sense in dancing around the subject here. Taking a seat beside Katie, she draws in a deep breath, deceptively calm and collected when she speaks. She's always been good at compartmentalizing; she's not sure it's ever been so necessary. "Lee's gone," she says, as simple as that. "I woke up this morning, and... he wasn't there anymore."

"Oh, my God," Katie murmurs, hand resting at her heart. Molly seems relatively calm about it, but that's not an uncommon reaction in people dealing with a shock. She knows too well how much it hurts to lose a loved one; she can't imagine Molly isn't in pain now, however she hides it. When Russell disappeared, she was completely lost. Molly has it much more together, she thinks, than she does, but that doesn't make this easy. "That's... I'm so sorry, Molly, that's awful."

Molly nods in response to the apology, the movement short, jerky, her mouth set in a thin line. She can't just not acknowledge it, but she's not sure what to say, either, not when, truthfully, she's sorry, too. Sorry she gave two years of borrowed time to someone she'll never see again. Sorry she was stupid enough to think that this might actually work out and now her daughter has lost a father for it. "I didn't know what to do," she admits. "So I came here."

"Of course." Katie reaches over to rest her hand on Molly's, shaking her head. Her own loss is so fresh that she can't help thinking of Russell, the pain looping through her again, wishing he were still here. He adored Molly. Maybe he would have known how to help. She's not sure there's anything that can be done, though. There wasn't for her. "I'm glad you did. God, this place is..." She just wants to ask why this keeps happening to them, and she can't. This isn't about her, not today.

"Really, unbelievably fucked up?" Molly guesses, careful to keep her voice low so Jamie won't hear her turn of phrase. There's no other way to put it, really. But then, that's been the case for a long, long time, something that she's sure Katie knows as well as anyone. it wasn't all that long ago, after all, that their positions were reversed. Maybe it's just that she's so worn out from that, losing Russell and Andrea and Mindy all in such a short time frame, that's preventing her from feeling this the way she should. It's there, but it's distant, something she can't quite grab onto, and she can't tell if that's a relief or if it means she's even more fucked in the head than she thought. "I think that about covers it."

"Yeah, that," Katie says, glancing in Jamie's direction. He's pretty quiet off in the dining room, just out of sight. For the moment, she's pretty sure he's well distracted by his coloring book. She just has to hope it keeps him in there for now. She doesn't want to talk to him about more disappearances now and make him afraid those are going to be commonplace for him, even if he didn't know Lee.

"That's one way to put it. You know, if you need anything, I'm here."

"Yeah," Molly says, soft, nodding. She does know; it's the reason she's here in the first place, even if she can't begin to make sense of her own thoughts right now, or figure out what she's supposed to do next. The same few things keep tripping her up, that she's meant to go back to work soon, that she never intended to have to do this on her own, that she isn't sure she wants to. Beyond that, though, she can't form anything concrete, and that, too, she thinks, is what's brought her to Katie's now, before even trying to make a single other plan.

She draws a deep breath, glancing at Jamie again, still not wanting to draw his attention. "I just don't know what to do, you know? This... It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Of course not," Katie says. It hasn't been easy for Molly, she knows, the last several months, but she had Lee at her side to help. He was supposed to help her with everything, to be here for her. She hadn't entirely trusted that he would be once, but only because she didn't know him very well and wasn't sure he would stand by Molly like he should. But this, now — this isn't a choice. It's just absence, and it's unfair.

"I don't know either." She shakes her head, staring blankly ahead. She hardly knows what to do herself, and it's been months since she lost Russell. "You just... keep going the best you can."

She never wanted this. It's an awful thought to think, and one she hates herself for immediately, but she hasn't been able to get it out of her head, either. Though she did what she had to and she can't regret that, even in these past few months, she knows she hasn't wound up where she should be, going through the motions and little else, trying her best but never really feeling it. Had she been on her own from the start, this situation would have been a vastly different one already. Now, though — God, maybe she didn't want it before, but it was going to work. She and Lee were going to figure it out. On her own, it's not the same story at all.

"What if—" she starts, and then falters, though she knows that, if there's anyone who'll understand this, it's probably Katie, albeit from the other side of things. "What if I'm just not cut out for this? What if I can't do it?"

Katie shakes her head, reaching to squeeze Molly's hand. "You can," she assures her. "It's... not easy, but you can do it. You're strong and brave. And it's worth it." At least, it has been for her. Without Jamie, she'd be entirely adrift now, lost as she was all those years ago before she made it to the safe haven that Darrow has been for so long. He's saved her more than she's helped him. They've both been lucky. And Molly is so determined and strong, and if she wants this, then she can do it. That's been true of anything she's ever put her mind to. Katie's certain the same is true of this. There's a little girl who needs her; of course Molly will come through.

Maybe she is strong and brave. Maybe it would be worth it. Right now, though, all Molly can see is the chasm ahead of her, the blank space where life as she'd planned it doesn't exist anymore. She was never supposed to do this on her own. She wouldn't have done this on her own, and for one awful, bitter moment, she can't help wishing that Lee had stayed gone when he walked out on her all those months before. It would be easier if this were about a choice. She would have had the months after to work out a plan, to figure out what would be best for her to do. She wouldn't have to find herself thinking even now that it would probably only have been a matter of time before he changed his mind and walked out again anyway. "Can I?" she asks, still careful to keep her voice quiet, frowning slightly. "I mean, I... I wasn't sure I wanted this when I thought it was going to be both of us, and now..."

When they were doing this together, she and Lee, it was easy to think that they would figure it out, that they would make it work. Even so, she hasn't felt right in a long time and she knows it. She's kept it carefully hidden, maybe, knowing that Lee would never have understood, but there's a hollow space in her chest where there should be so much more, and she can't figure this disconnect out.

It's such a hard thing for Katie to wrap her head around, what Molly's implying. It's not something she could or would ever do herself, but her situation is different, she knows that. She's always wanted a family, always planned on having children. Jamie came into her life like a miracle. She'd hoped, too, that she and Russell would have a child, but that wasn't in the stars for her, and she can't imagine she'll meet and fall in love with someone else in the near future. She's not sure she'd want to yet. It's hard to fathom, then, giving up a child of her own.

She can't pretend it isn't hard, though, to raise a child alone. Jamie makes it worth all the trouble, but it can get frustrating sometimes, trying to juggle all of this without help. And she wanted this, she fought for it.

"You have to do what's right for you," she says. "And that'll be what's right for Abigail."

Somewhere, deep down, Molly thinks she already knows what that will be. There was a time that she used to envision her future, in a distant, imprecise sort of way, involving settling down and having a family, something that was practically a given. She was never on her own when she imagined it, though. She certainly never saw herself having to deal with the scars, both physical and metaphorical, left behind by someone like Patrick. None of this has ever been quite right or ideal, but with Lee, even backed into a corner, it was something they could figure out together. At least she had him there, even if she never told him — never wanted to — how fucking empty she's felt for the last few weeks.

What's right for Abigail is, or should be, someone who wants her without hesitation. Someone who's cut out for this, like Katie has been with Jamie, who has the capacity to give her what she needs, who doesn't try so hard to feel something, anything, only to come up blank.

"I guess there's some time," she says, grateful, at least, that she doesn't have to try to spell anything out. "And I don't... God, this is terrible. I don't have to worry about what Lee would think."

"No, you don't," Katie says emphatically. "If he were here, things would be different. You'd have different things to take into consideration. But what matters now is what the two of you need." She'd liked Lee alright, and he'd made Molly happy, but he's not here anymore. As hard as that can be to deal with, it means he no longer gets a say in what happens next. Molly can't be expected to live the same life she did just yesterday, not with everything turned on its head.

"Is it bad that that's... a little relieving?" Molly asks, frowning as she does, as if she's already answered her own question. It isn't like she's glad he's gone. Of course she isn't. Waking up in an empty bed had been practically fucking terrifying, if only for all the uncertainty it's left her with. It's strange, though, not to have to take what he'd want into consideration anymore, realizing how much that's colored her decisions, however subconsciously. Now, on her own, she can figure out what she needs. "I mean, not... I didn't want this, I'm not happy about this, but God, at least there's that."

Clarke is up to her elbows in paint when Molly texts. It takes a moment for her to sufficiently wipe the paint off her fingers before she can answer back in the affirmative. Even then, some still sticks to the screen. While she waits for her friend to arrive, she tends to fall back into the mindless whirl of colors, her only concession is to lower the volume of the stereo in the meantime.

Kicking it off an entirely with an elbow at the knock on the door, her mind is almost blissfully blank as she opens the door. A smudge of paint is on her cheek as she preemptively smiles at her friend.

"Hey, sort of stranger," she greets as she opens the door.

"Hey," Molly replies, smiling at the sight of Clarke. That much, at least, she doesn't have to try to fake. Clarke has become a good friend, and she hasn't got many of those left. At least in part, that's why she's here in the first place. She needs to get all of this out, too, to process it in a way that doesn't involve keeping it trapped in her own head, but with one more person gone, the one she used to fall asleep beside every night, there's a comfort in seeing those who are still here. Nodding towards the smudge of paint on Clarke's cheek as she steps inside, she asks, "Getting some painting done?"

A confused frown scurries across Clarke's face, drawing her eyebrows together before she puts the obvious together. Just like that the frown evaporates back into a smile as she vainly tries to swipe away the paint from the opposite cheek.

"Just a little bit, yeah," she agrees as she closes the door behind Molly. "I had an itch that I couldn't let go of. But now that I've scratched it, I'm all yours."

Wiping her hands once again on her smock, she gestures for Molly to make herself at home. "Can I get you anything?"

"If you have anything to drink, that would be amazing," Molly says, just a touch sheepish for it. It's early in the day, but if ever a situation called for that, she thinks it would be this one. There's so much ahead of her, so much she needs to figure out, that it's staggering, and realistically speaking, she knows she can't take all of it on just yet. All she can really do is try to deal the best she can, and sometimes that has to mean letting herself turn to old habits. God knows it's been a long time since she last really felt like herself. This might help with that. "Other than that, uh, I'm good."

It's a lie, but she'll get around to that part. There's no sense in spilling everything all at once. Hell, she can't, if she wants to maintain even a little bit of her composure.

The request catches Clarke by surprise, but she doesn't say anything. Merely raises her eyebrow in brief question before nodding.

"I have half of an open bottle of red wine?" She offers. "It's only a few days old but it should still be drinkable."

Disappearing to the small kitchen, she opens the cabinet and pulls out a pair of juice glasses. Grabbing the bottle, she double checks that the cork is in there tightly before tucking it under her arm, holding the glasses in her hands.

Offering one to Molly, she sets her own down the table before working on the cork. It opens with a pop and she gives it a sniff. "Yep, still good." She pours some into Molly's cup. "But don't quote me on that."

"It's alright, I'll take your word for it," Molly replies, the words half a laugh, or as close to one as she can manage. "That's fine, anyway. I just—" She just has nerves completely frayed, an entire life ahead of her that's been upended, and her usual mantra that she's lucky to have a life at all isn't quite cutting it in a situation like this. It's not just her, after all. If this had been a year ago, she would have been sad but she would have gotten the fuck over it. Now, though, there's Abigail to consider, too, and God help her, she's absolutely clueless.

Taking the cup once Clarke has poured her a drink, she takes a small, careful sip, then decides she should come right out with it. "Lee's gone," she says without looking up. "I woke up this morning and he was..."

"Woah."

It's not much in the way helpful immediate reactions, but it's the first thing that springs to Clarke's mind. She drops into the arm chair, blinking a bit rapidly. She won't claim to have known Lee all that well. They had some commonalities, but he was tangential to Molly. He was part of the package, just like Abigail. It's really kind of a lot to take in.

"Just wow. Like no wonder you need a drink." She takes a sip of her own. "How are you? Honestly?"

"Honestly?" Molly echoes, pausing for a moment as she shakes her head. "I think I'm maybe in shock, or something. Or just... too tired for this shit." She's lost so many people recently, and figuring out how to take care of a baby hasn't exactly been easy. It's like she's met her quota for losses she can react to properly. Those others, Russell especially, hurt like hell. Now she just feels empty, like a space has been clawed out of her chest where what she should be feeling is supposed to be. All things considered, she supposes that shouldn't be a surprise. She's been feeling like that for months now, in a way, ever since Abigail was born. "Maybe it just hasn't hit me yet."

"You could be both." Clarke doesn't see why both can't be an option. Senseless lost has been a constant in her life in the last few years, lessened here by the fact that Darrow seems to play by its own rules. It's weird that people can go and it can feel like a death without a body left behind. Without the knowledge that the shell of them is floating in space or burned returning to earth. "I think both is definitely allowed."

She wants to ask what Molly will do. What can be done. If the roles had been reversed, if Bellamy had disappeared without a trace leaving Clarke with a baby and so much exhaustion, she knows that she'd likely collapse. The mere idea of it is enough to send a shudder racing down her spine. "What can I do?" is what she settles on saying instead.

"Well, this is a good start," Molly says, lifting her cup before she takes another sip from it — still slow, careful, but appreciating the taste and the way it feels even so. Beyond this, she barely knows what to do herself, let alone what anyone else should do, and she falters for it, frowning slightly, drawing one leg up underneath her. This was already uncharted territory, but at least before, she and Lee were mapping it out together, crossing any rough terrain at each other's sides. Now she's just stranded in the middle of nowhere, several directions before her that she doesn't know which to choose. "You know, aside from that... I don't know what to do. What I want."

"Okay, good." Clarke mirrors the gesture with her own mock toast. For all of her that is glad to be able to be some help, she is still at a loss. This is a problem and therefore it has a solution. It is just lost in the fog of immediacy, the emotional tug that pulls when that loss is of a person who was supposed to stay.

"I don't think you have to do anything right away," she offers cautiously after swallowing another sip of her own wine. Swirling the glass, she watches the liquid flow around the edges, confined by the laws of physics. "I think being caught off-guard and adrift is allowed. I don't think my mom knew what to fully do when my dad and I were taken either." Even though she did the forcing, assists the rest of her brain, helpfully leaving it unsaid. "Not knowing is okay."

Were she on her own, it would be an easy answer to accept. She's faced worse trials than this and come out on the other side, however damaged they may have left her. It isn't only her she has to think about now, though. There's Abigail to consider, too, and having a three-month-old who now has no father, whom she's really not sure what she's doing with and knows she hasn't felt about the way she should have thus far, she has a bit more of a time crunch to deal with than she otherwise would. After Patrick attacked her, she spent months holed up in her apartment, working from home, shutting out everything until she started to feel like herself again. The decisions ahead of her now aren't ones she can delay.

"It's just... hard, with Abigail in the picture," she admits. She loves her daughter, she does, but not in the way that she knows a parent is supposed to love a child. There's something missing, something empty inside her, a void she hasn't been able to fill. "You know, I never wanted to be a mother. I mean, I thought I did, once, figured I would settle down one day and have a family, and then... fucking everything changed, and then this happened, and it wasn't going to be easy but at least I wasn't on my own, you know?"

Clarke nods. "I get that."

Motherhood is this far off thing to her, a notion she'd somewhat accepted, even wanted as a teen, doing her part for the good of the Ark. But then her dad died, and she was sent to prison, and suddenly her plans for the future evaporated like so much stardust. It's only since she's been here that Clarke has really started to think ahead further than six weeks or six months.

"You don't..." Clarke pauses and restarts. "I'm here for whatever you need. Someone to watch Abigail for a bit, someone to help you figure out whatever. I make an amazing pro/con list. I'll vet people..." She breaks off, stopping her ramble. "Sorry. Planning mode took over."

"No, no, that's — I appreciate planning mode," Molly says with a soft exhale of a laugh, her smile small, warm if a little self-conscious. When she's still waiting for this to hit her, planning mode is her best option anyway, where she's chosen to stay for the time being, pushing everything else aside in the name of trying to move forward. "And I will probably take you up on all of those, actually. I'm supposed to go back to work in, like, a week, and I don't want to put that off any longer, so I guess I need to start looking into finding someone to be at home while I do, and I need to look at apartments..."

She can't stay in what was Lee's place, that's something she's already certain of. It's been ages, now, since he asked her to move in, but when she thinks of it, it's his apartment, and she doesn't want to be there when he's not. Even being raised Catholic, she's only got so much room for self-torture.

"Fortunately, being a part-time college student and receptionist, I have an oddly flexible schedule," Clarke notes, relieved that Molly is willing to give into the planning for just a little while. Part of her is itching to bounce ideas off Bellamy or Raven, just get another perspective, but that's not entirely fair. Going in with what she has is just the best course right. "You both need stability, it just might look weird for a bit."

Swallowing another gulp of wine, she taps her fingers against the glass. "We'll work it all out."

"Yeah," Molly says, soft, before taking another sip of her drink. She doesn't yet know what working it out will entail, or even really what she wants, but that much, at least, is an indisputable fact, as true now as it's ever been. No matter how fucked things here get or seem to be, there's always a way of getting through it, of finding an outcome that actually works. "Christ, I don't even remember what stability is like. I think it kind of went out the window eleven months ago."

"It probably did." Clarke's been fighting for stability since she was drugged and placed on a ship hurtling towards a possibly toxic earth. The steadiness of her childhood might even be a lie that her parents protected her from, but she appreciates that. Sometimes kids don't need to know that there are any doubts. Sometimes they just need to be kids. "But I think that comes with the territory. Don't quote me on that, you'd have to consult with Bellamy to really know."

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oh, you're gonna lose your soul tonight

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