losttheright | (no subject)

She finds out by accident. That shouldn’t be entirely surprising, Molly thinks, but she feels a little guilty for it even so, despite knowing full well that getting the news sooner wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. This isn’t the first time she’s lost someone in Darrow, after all. It just is, perhaps, the hardest for her to deal with. Even Stephen and Chase’s disappearances hadn’t hit her this hard. They’d been friends, the former maybe something a little more than that. Lisbeth is different. Molly had barely known her at all, had spoken to her infrequently at best, but she’d saved Molly’s life, and that’s not something she’ll ever be able to forget. Nor is it, now, something she can ever begin to try to make up to her.

If given the chance, she would have, too. Knowing that this is all she gets makes her that much more grateful for it, desperate, even, to hold on, to make it last as long as she can. That night, she’d been willing to accept that it was over, well aware that she’d already gotten more of a life than she otherwise would have, but she hadn’t thought there would be any other outcome. It’s only because of some impeccable fucking timing and instincts on Lisbeth’s part that she’s here at all, happier than she thinks she’s been in a long while, and that’s not something she could have disregarded.

Even with Lisbeth gone, it still isn’t. At work, after hearing a mention of the old abandoned fairground and how it really is abandoned now once again, she gets by alright, as good at compartmentalizing when she needs to as ever, but the more time passes, the harder it becomes. By the time she gets to Lee’s, where she goes after work as often as she does her own apartment these days, she’s distracted and she knows it, curled up on his couch with her computer and attempting uselessly to get a jump on what she has to do for tomorrow. It’s hard to focus on talking points for a press briefing when she just keeps thinking about Lisbeth swinging that fire poker and saving her life.

Before long, she stops trying, sighing as she snaps her laptop shut, pushing her hands back through her hair. "Fuck it," she says, as much to herself as to Lee. "I can’t focus."

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"I'll pick it up in the morning," Lee says, "Or I'll just wing it. I think I can manage."

If there's anything he picked up from his time as a pilot, it was quickly adapting to new situations at the drop of a hat. Not that this is anything like that, really, but he's heard enough excuses from enough pilots that he's pretty confident in his ability to make something up about why he hasn't gotten this done, if it comes to it.

"Okay," Molly says, not about to press the subject beyond that. If he's sure, then she isn't going to try to change his mind and convince him not to give up on studying for the night, though she has no idea what they're supposed to do now. This is a difficult turn of conversation to try to move forward from. With everything out in the open now, though, she doesn't especially want to dwell on it any longer than she has to. "So is it gonna sound really weird if I change the subject and ask what you want to do for dinner?"

"We could order in?" he says, and has no problem with the change in subject, especially if it's something Molly would rather talk about. They could probably both use something a little more light than the previous topic or work.

"What about pizza? I could cook something, but I don't think either of us really want to have to put out any fires tonight."

"Yeah, I'd really rather not," Molly says, pulling a face, though there's still something a little softer in her expression than there might otherwise be. It's from exhaustion, partly, but genuine affection, too, the kind that she doesn't usually let show very often. Right now, it's unavoidable, when she's just let her guard down more than she does around anyone else. "Pizza sounds great."