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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"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?"

"Whatever you got's fine," Danny says with a shrug. Now hardly seems the time to be picky, though he probably would be any other time. He knows what he likes, he sees nothing wrong with that. Now just isn't the time for it.

With her dressed and talking, he gets to his feet, hands in his pockets as he heads toward her, careful not to get too close yet. They'll probably both be better off out of the bedroom.

"Alright," Molly says, shooting him a thin smile as she tugs her jeans on. Her heart is still beating too fast, but the instinctive, stupid panic, at least, has subsided. Even having not been able to help it, even knowing on some level that it's logical, she feels like she should continue apologizing, not accustomed in the least to having to stop when she specifically invited him over to fuck her. She doesn't know how to say any of that, but she isn't yet grounded enough to try to hide it. She's not sure she would even if she could. "I'll be right back."

Danny nods. "Okay." He'll follow her lead in this as everything else, he decides. Sitting on the bed seems like a bad idea, but he's not about to follow her out to the kitchen either. Maybe she could use the space. Just walking around her room seems just as stupid, though, so he gives her a slight head start before heading out toward the living room. "I'm gonna find a seat in here," he says. "We wouldn't want to, uh, spill on your bed or anything."

"Yeah, we definitely wouldn't," Molly agrees, quietly glad that he's said as much. She's pretty sure that can't actually be why he's suggested the living room, and it saves her from having to do the same herself, certain that it would be far too awkward just to lie around in bed after what almost happened but couldn't. The less they need to dwell on that, the better, when she already feels so uncomfortable about it. "Go ahead and turn on the TV, if you want."

"Thanks." It's not something he would have done otherwise, actually, but he does so now, figuring the background noise might do her some good. He flips through the channels, looking for something they won't have to pay a lot of attention to, finally settling on some dumb made-for-TV movie that's been playing on and off all week.

He pulls his cards from his jacket, sliding them from the box. "You want any help in there?"

"Yeah, sure," Molly says, opening a cabinet to take out a couple of glasses. then the freezer for ice. He's said he'll have whatever, but it might be easier for him to see what she has on hand, anyway, rather than her just going ahead and mixing something for him, even if, for her part, she'd drink anything right now provided it was strong enough. The fact of that is more significant than she would probably ever tell him, saying more about how much she trusts him than her having to stop does.

Tapping the cards gently against the coffee table, Danny sets them down alongside the remote, springing easily to his feet to join her. It's ludicrous, honestly. He usually avoids making serious friends for reasons similar to this. Usually serial killers aren't involved, but the fact remains, he doesn't have the first clue how to handle things. He wants to help, he actually, honestly does, but it's beyond him to do much more than stand awkwardly near her. He'd be more in his element in a straitjacket, and Henley's the escapist. "What can I do?"

"Grab me the tonic water out of the fridge?" Molly suggests, uncapping the bottle she's already taken out. She defaults to gin and tonic most of the time, and now is no exception, the stronger the better. She only has so many hands, though, and could fix them both herself, but having him here is a little easier. At least her heart's slowed considerably, her nerves no longer quite so frayed, leaving her at ease even with him in close proximity, shooting him a small smile. "Unless you want something else, in which case, grab that, too."

"No, that sounds good," Danny says, offering up an easy smile over his shoulder as he heads for the fridge. He wants to keep it simple, he's sure of that much, and he's not about to be overly particular about drinks right now. It doesn't take too long to find the tonic water. When he approaches, he walks slowly, setting it down near her. "Thanks."

I, I wanna get myself back

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