losttheright | I, I wanna get myself back

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j. daniel atlas

I, I wanna get myself back

It isn't, strictly speaking, that Molly is nervous. There's no reason for her to be. With as many times as she's done this sort of thing in the past, it's second-nature, even now. Maybe especially now, with as long as she had to wait to be able to do this in the first place, weeks of having to take such care of the injuries done to her face and being too self-conscious to want to do much of anything at all. Now, though, finally given the clear and told her nose is healed, she's more than fucking ready to start getting things back to normal again. She hasn't felt like herself since the attack. It's about damn time she got a chance to.

Of course, she'll never be entirely free of it. There are and always will be a few scars from the nails she was shot with, a fainter one along the bottom of her lower lip. She can look at herself in the mirror, though, without cringing at what she sees, and the bruising's faded from her face and around her neck, and it's enough. Hell, it's the most she can fucking ask for, and she's alright with that. At least she's still here at all. Besides, Daniel isn't some stranger. All of those would know who she is now anyway, and would probably make it more than a little awkward. Daniel, though, is a friend, she thinks, and he's someone she's slept with before, and he's seen her when she looked just about her worst. It's her best possible option. Besides, experience tells her that it will definitely be worth it. God knows when she's had to wait this long, she'd hate to settle for someone who didn't really know what they were doing.

That he's agreed to her very straightforward invitation just makes her all the more convinced that this is the right call. Even so, as she waits for him to arrive, she can't help but notice that her heart is beating just a little harder than it ought to. After all this time, though, that isn't exactly a surprise, so she doesn't dwell on it, even brightens when she hears someone buzz her apartment, going over to the intercom. "Yeah?"

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It feels damn good, the way he touches her, especially with all the time that's passed since she could last do this. It's for the same reason, Molly thinks, that she's still short of breath, heart lodged in her throat. Really, it makes sense. This used to be the sort of situation she was most comfortable in, and she's expecting it to be again, but her life's been pretty well upended since that happened, so it's only reasonable that it might not be immediate. She sees no reason to think too much of it, a hand curling around the back of his neck, drawing him with her as she eases down onto the bed.

Edited 2014-01-16 07:18 (UTC)

Even in Darrow, where he's still building his reputation, it's not like Danny has trouble picking up women. It's not as if Molly's the kind of girl to withhold or play coy, either, but she's hot and she's smart and he knows from experience how good she is, so it's still kind of an ego boost, especially in the current situation. He's not really someone who sees a lot of signs of trust. He's not gonna go out of his way to build it, but he has to admit, he likes it. Smirking against her skin, he kisses her throat, a hand sprawled against her ribs, the other holding him up.

This time, when her heart stutters in her chest and she draws in a breath through her teeth, it's not quite the same, and it's the strangest fucking thing. He's kissing her, and there's little she wants more than to have him continue, to lose herself in fucking him the way she knows she should be able to, but it's like her mind and her body are at odds, what's recognizable now as panic tightening her chest. If she stopped to think about it, she might even find it understandable. Neither stopping nor thinking is something she has much interest in, though, nor is letting some physical instinct hold her back now. Head tipping to the side, she curls her fingers in his hair, trying to will any nervousness away.

It's encouraging enough a gesture that Danny presses on, hand wandering over her skin as he sucks gently at her throat. It's been far too long since the last time he was with Molly, and though he gets it, he's also intent on making up for lost time. He can't undo anything that was done to her, but he can give her some nicer memories, at least. Thumb brushing over her nipple, he teases at it as he kisses lower.

It's a strange thing, being so self-conscious of the way she looks. Molly isn't used to that, has only ever been confident about her body, even — maybe especially — when it comes to sex. Now, though, it's scarred in ways it hasn't been before, and it's impossible not to think about that, to think about having a nail gun pressed against her throat and below her collarbone, as his mouth moves lower. It would be easier if she didn't have to think at all, but that's not an option, not yet. There's not much else for her to do, lying here like this, except let him keep going, half-convinced she needs him to.

Focusing on Molly for the moment is the best way to go about this, Daniel is sure, and that's fine. Focus is one of his strengths. No matter what's happened — and he's content not knowing the details — she's still beautiful, still Molly; she makes it easy. Tongue working over her nipple, he reaches down to tug her underwear gently lower. Tonight is about her. His own clothes can wait.

His mouth feels good, as much as she would have expected it to, if not more so for how long it's been. When Molly closes her eyes, it's so she can try to focus on that, to shake the memories from months ago and come back to the present. Instead, she gets everything coming back to her all in a rush, a jolt of pain through her chest and Patrick's teeth between her legs, until she realizes that she can't breathe, the panic from earlier suddenly overwhelming. "Wait," she says, quiet, before she's so much as realized the word leaving her mouth. "Fuck. Sorry. Just... I need a minute."

Danny almost doesn't hear her, not at first, her voice so quiet, but when he does, he draws back, hesitant more because of his own confusion than anything else. "Yeah, sure," he says, "of course." He eases back, sitting up again, but for all that he's good at improvisation, it doesn't do him much good here. He's not sure what's going on for her and not sure how to ask or if it's even any of his business, but he hates just sitting there, waiting.

Even after he sits up, Molly still can't catch her breath, chest painfully tight with residual panic, and she's not sure she's ever felt so fucking ridiculous. It might well be understandable, that this would be difficult, but it's hard to see it like that when she's the one who invited him here, who wanted this in the first place. Maybe she should have known that it wouldn't be so simple, but it's a little late for that now, her cheeks burning pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she says, pushing herself up a big, though she can't quite bring herself to look at him. "I don't... really know what happened."

"Hey, no, no," Danny says quickly. "It's okay. You don't need to..." It's not like he did anything wrong, no, but neither did she. Whatever's going through her mind right now, it's nothing he needs an apology for. She's the one who has to deal with it. He still doesn't know how to react, though, or what he's supposed to do now. "Do you — do you want some water? Do you want me to go?"

"You don't have to," Molly says, shaking her head quickly, though she's pretty sure that's the mood completely ruined. She just doesn't want to have come that close to fucking him and then kick him out. There's enough else she has to feel bad about, what would be far from ideal except that it's preferable to the alternative, her heart still racing in her chest. "Water might be good. I just — I wouldn't have thought —"

"No, no, no," Danny says, shaking his head. "It's okay. It's okay." He's not sure what else he can say or how to handle this. He's never had to deal with something like this before, and he generally leaves this kind of emotional connection outside the door. But he really does care about Molly in his way, and he doesn't want to fuck this up. "I'll get you some water."

If nothing else, it'll give him a minute or two to think about how to handle this.

"Okay," Molly says, biting back the apology that threatens to follow. She's already said she's sorry, and she doesn't want to make herself look worse than she has already by saying the same thing over and over again, seeming more rattled than she'd care to. It's obvious enough that she is, anyway. The fact that she had to stop him says as much. Letting out a heavy breath, she shifts so she's sitting up slightly, drawing the sheet up to cover her chest. Scars aside, she's never been all that self-conscious, but it wouldn't feel right now, to lie around almost naked while he gets her water, which he shouldn't have to in the first place. "I — thanks."

"Yeah, sure," Danny says. On an impulse, he steps towards her once he's off the bed, but he curbs the instinct to kiss her hair and moves away again. She needs space, not him acting like a worried boyfriend. He's worried, but nothing else about it would be right. "Just a sec."

It doesn't take long to head into her kitchen, find a glass, and fill it. He stalls a little, not wanting to head back too quickly, not sure what counts as too long. After a couple of minutes, though, waiting around makes no sense, and he returns to the room, holding out the glass to her. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Molly says, offering him a thin smile as she reaches out for the glass, sipping carefully. Her heart is still beating too fast, her throat tight, but at least getting air in her lungs is a little easier now. It's embarrassment more than anything else that weighs heavily on her, something she isn't really sure what to do with. Then again, none of this is. In bed is one place where she's always been confident, capable of holding her own, and with her injuries healed, she thought she would be ready for this. The fact that she's evidently not isn't something she's comfortable with, or at all ready to address, an uncharacteristic uncertainty leaving her at a loss. "I think so, anyway."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Danny tries not to get too close. He doesn't want to stand over her either, though. She's not in her element now, not comfortable, and he doesn't know how to fix that, but he knows he doesn't want to make it worse. "Good," he says. "Good. I... Is there anything I can do?"

To go back in time and change what happened is the only thing that comes to mind, and Molly doesn't want to say so, doesn't want to let herself. Even if it were within the realm of possibility, she's not sure she would be able to admit to it, no matter how obviously fucked up she is. So much of that speaks for itself, anyway. The way she panicked, it's not all that much different than the physical marks she's been left with. An admittance like that, though, would be too much. "No," she says, and tries for a small smile. "But thanks. I... I'm really sorry."

"No, no," Danny says, shaking his head. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." It's awkward and a little uncomfortable, but it's not like he can hold it against her. He's just not sure if he should leave or if it's better not to leave her alone yet. "Do you wanna... I don't know, talk about it?"

Not that he's any good at that, but it feels like the kind of thing he's supposed to say. As if there's any protocol for this.

"What's there to say?" Molly asks, huffing out a laugh that doesn't have any real humor behind it, though not unkindly. Oh, there's plenty to be said, probably. She just wouldn't know how to give voice to any of it, to talk about what happened to her beyond the facts that are common fucking knowledge in Darrow, or even the ones that aren't. Telling the story twice was enough for her. As for what it did to her, that would be even harder, something she can barely deal with in her own head, let alone with someone else. This wasn't supposed to be her life. Then again, she wasn't supposed to have more of one at all. Whatever else, however damaged she might be, at least she's still here, when she so easily couldn't have been. "No, I... Thank you, really, but... It won't change anything if I do."

It's certainly not a point Danny's going to push. Under similar circumstances, he's sure he wouldn't want to talk about it either. He's never been all that good getting personal. Some things are just better off kept quiet, handled alone. Given that he wouldn't know how to respond if she did open up, it's for the best she doesn't.

"Okay," he says with a short nod. "Well, I can stick around, if you want." Or he can get out of her hair. He's terrible at gauging these things, unsure if he's just projecting his own preference for handling things on his own. He can be a dick, but he's not so much of an asshole that he's going to leave her side before she's ready to be alone.

"If you're sure you don't mind," Molly says, though her voice lilts up, making it more of a question. It's weird, there's no doubt about that, but if he can get past the obvious awkwardness of this, then so can she. She'd rather that than having to be alone at a time like this, when her head is still such a mess. Even without wanting to talk about it, company seems like it would do her a hell of a lot better than an empty apartment. "I mean, if it's too weird, you don't have to, but..."

"No," Danny says, shaking his head, "no, no, no." It's not that he's never stayed in one place for long before. He lived in Chicago steadily for years. It's the friendships he never really formed, his obsessive devotion to his craft eating into the time other people use to socialize. But Molly's a good girl, a good friend, and the fact that it's weird maybe makes it all the more necessary that he stay. "I don't mind."

He gets up, then, but only to pick up his clothes and dress again. "You know, we can just... whatever you want."

"Alright," Molly says, shooting him a thin smile. "Thanks." What there even is to do, she doesn't know, but just having someone else around will be better than staying here on her own. She might not be well-equipped to handle awkwardness of this sort, especially when it comes to sex, but she still prefers that to the alternative. Besides, she can't really see him sticking around if he honestly minded. They'll figure something out. First, she needs clothes, keeping the sheet wrapped around her as she pulls herself to her feet, though it isn't as if he hasn't seen her undressed before. "I think I might fix a real drink, if you want one."

"Yeah, sure." It's not an offer Danny's about to turn down. She could probably use one, that's for sure. He leans his head back against the wall, looking obediently away. Under any other circumstances, he'd think it was pretty funny, the display of too little too late modesty. "Sounds good."

It's about as awkward as the rest of this has been, heading to her dresser while wrapped in a sheet, but at least he doesn't seem to be making too much of it. That's just one more thing for Molly to be grateful for, and all the more reason not to bide her time, taking a larger t-shirt out of a drawer and tugging it over her head. Better, she thinks, than fumbling around for her discarded pieces of clothing from earlier. She can take care of those once she's dressed, pulling the sheet away once she's got the shirt on, less concerned with her legs being bare than her chest, crossing to where she left her jeans. "You have any preference?"

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