Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning
"Ghosts don't haunt us. That's not how it works. They're present amongst us because we won't let go of them."
― T.H White, The Once and Future King.
"He had worn a place for himself in some corner of her heart, as a sea shell, always boring against the rock might do. The making of the place had been her pain. But now the shell was safely in the rock."
― Sue Grafton, M is for Malice.
Removing her key from the slightly stiff brass lock, she pushed against the heavy oak door and entered the peaceful refuge that was her apartment. Her legs ached from yet another day of standing around at the morgue and she practically yearned for a nice, hot shower and the chance to change into her soft and comfortable pajamas.
Depositing her keys and handbag on the glass side-table next to the doorway, Molly removed her shoes and jacket, placing them at their designated position by the door and made her way into her living room. She needed a few moments to catch her breath and let the madness of the rush-hour in the tube dissipate. Her cream colored couch practically called out to her and she spared a few moments to unwind on its comfortable surface. Looking around at her welcoming apartment she noted that the beautiful white roses adorning her window ledges had almost wilted. She would have to replace them some time tomorrow before going to work.
Eventually she forced herself from the comfort of her couch and moved past the entrance, towards her bedroom. On her way, she passed the open doorway into the spare bedroom, which she had slowly but surely started to convert into her own little library. Perhaps one day, into the distant future, she would forgo all pretenses and simply remove the queen sized bed and its twin side-tables, currently occupying space. She would often wonder why she hadn't done it yet. Deep down she knew that she, herself, had given up on the idea of ever needing a spare bedroom in her life a long time ago. She supposed she was keeping up pretenses mostly for her mother's sake. Mrs Hooper was adamantly refusing to acknowledge the possibility that her daughter might never need a spare bedroom in her life.
Molly knew that most women in her place would lose sleep over the matter, watching the minutes pass by as if they were years and despairing at the hopelessness of it all. But Molly was not one of those women, nor was she so career oriented that she could claim to simply not have the time and energy for a relationship and all it's complications. No, Molly would have had no objection of being in a relationship nor did she object to the concept of starting her own family. She had more than enough time in her life for all of it. It wasn't even a question of being unable to find someone. She had met plenty of nice, respectable men in her life and she had even gone out on a few dates with them. Then gradually she would notice these little things here and there that would put an end to it all. She would notice that their eyes were the wrong shade of blue, or that their voices lacked that deep smooth pitch or that their hair was either too dark or too fair, never the right tinge of chocolate brown. She would notice how easily they smiled or how transparent their thoughts were to her. Molly would notice these things and she would smile politely and excuse herself, before leaving and never looking back.
And so she knew that she had no right to complain about her situation, it was entirely of her own doing and she was content with it. She had never resented him either, it was not his fault that she felt what she felt. In all honesty, Molly was satisfied with her life. Her work was both interesting and fulfilling, she was more than comfortable monetary wise and she had the time and means to put herself first. If she wanted a particularly expensive piece of jewelry she could acquire it, if she wanted to continue filling her spare bedroom with shelves upon shelves of beautiful leather bound volumes she could do it. She had her cat Toby with his dark fur and intelligent green eyes, who was always happy to see her when she returned home and she had a small group of close acquaintances with whom she could socialize with when she chose to.
Molly slipped out of her work clothes, picking up the now rumpled pile and placing it in the nearby laundry basket. One of the main reasons she had persisted in acquiring this particular apartment was the spacious en-suite bathroom that came along with the master bedroom. Turning on the faucets, she allowed for a few seconds to pass, giving the water the chance to warm up to the temperature she desired and then she stepped into the inviting water, letting it cascade down her body. If there was one thing she would readily admit to, it was that she was always one for long showers. It had been a point of fond irritation with her family when she was growing up. Molly, if you stay in there any longer you'll grow fish scales, her father would always tease her affectionately.
Letting the warm water soothe her exhaustion, she finished her shower and stepped out into the coolness of her bedroom. Her sky blue silk sheets beckoned her and she almost gave in but she knew that it would be better if she got something light to eat before going to bed and of course there was also Toby to take care of. A simple meal of warm vegetable soup, apple slices and toast and she was more than ready to turn in for the night. Making her final rounds along her apartment, she checked that the windows were sealed, the balcony door locked and her doorway locked and bolted. Central London was a dangerous place and she had no intention, whatsoever, of becoming another crime statistic. The cool silk felt like heaven against her skin and before long she could feel herself drifting off to peaceful slumber.
Her dreams were strange, she was surrounded by darkness but she was not afraid. Rather, she was irritated. She was irritated at the constant noise preventing her from her much needed rest. No matter which way she turned, her dream of the constant sound of something banging against wood was all she could hear. Molly opened her eyes, gradually realizing that she was not dreaming and that there was in fact something or rather someone banging on her door in the middle of the night. She could feel herself starting to panic. She rarely had visitors and certainly not at this time of night. Whatever was happening she was sure it was nothing good. Her first instinct was to grab the phone on her nightstand and call the police. The more her sleep riddled mind cleared, the more she considered the situation. Her building boasted a twenty four hour security service, it wasn't like anyone could just walk in from the street and come into the building, let alone reach the seventh floor where she was residing. Dark thoughts started to cloud her mind. What if the intruder had incapacitated the security guard and simply strolled in? But if that were the case why would they be knocking on her door, why not just try to break it down instead? Molly closed her eyes letting her hearing take over. The knocking was constant and persistent but not violent. Whoever was on the other side was most definitely not trying to break down her door.
Molly gathered all the resolve she could muster and reached in her bedside drawer. She gripped the small pocket knife her father had given her all those years ago during a camping trip and she forced herself out of the illusion of safety that her bed had provided. She might not have any experience with this sort of thing but if there was one thing that Molly Hooper was, it was a survivor. She would approach the door and see who it could possibly be, but she would be smart about it.
Slowly walking towards the darkened doorway, she was grateful for her fluffy purple socks and the way they muffled her footsteps against the shiny hardwood floor. Molly gently reached the door, placing a silent hand against its frame and slowly moved to see who it was through the small peephole. Before she even had a chance to check who the intruder was, she heard it.
"Molly."
Molly dropped her small yet effective weapon and rapidly started to unbolt all the locks and chains keeping her door shut. Never in her life had she moved as fast or as efficiently as those few seconds it took her to unlock her door and rip it open. The dim light of the hallway was at his back, illuminating his looming silhouette and keeping his face in shadow. But Molly didn't have to see his face to know who it was that was standing at her doorway. She quickly stood aside, leaving the doorway free for his entrance. She watched him brush past her and into her flat, before closing the door and following him into the relative darkness of the living room. She had never liked closing her shutters at night, as they blocked the soft light of the moon that she so adored. Her living room was now partly filled with that luxurious soft silver light, allowing her to see him slumped back on her couch, almost in the identical position she had occupied a few hours prior.
She approached him, unsure of what she was supposed to do, but when she was finally close enough to see him clearly she realized that he was fast asleep. Molly allowed herself a few moments to really observe him and noted the exhaustion that was glaringly visible throughout his form. The only thing she was grateful for was the fact that he didn't appear to be wounded or hurt in any way. Silently she crept back into her bedroom, rummaging into her cupboard and locating the warmest and softest of her blankets. Clutching the material in shaky hands, she went back to her living room and ever so carefully draped it over his sleeping form. She had to admit the scene was slightly ridiculous, her soft lilac blanket smelling of her favorite jasmine detergent and the sleeping yet still somehow commanding form of the consulting Detective snuggled comfortably against her cream couch.
Reassuring herself that there was nothing more she could do for now, she allowed herself one last look in the direction of her living room and then returned to her bedroom, leaving her doorway open in case she was needed. Molly, closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep. Her eyelids gradually begun to feel heavier and she felt the tell-tale signs of sleep enveloping her.
It was absurd really, how fast she had scrambled to open the door. She had never gotten the chance to look through the peephole. She had heard her name being called. But it wasn't that. It wasn't her name being spoken. It was the voice saying it. She knew that voice with its deep smooth pitch just as she knew that the moment she opened the door the first thing she would see would be a pair of emerald-blue eyes, the same fathomless pair of eyes that haunted her for almost every day of her adult life. And there it was, the reason Molly Hooper would never need a spare bedroom in her life. Because as far as she was concerned the spare bedroom in her apartment was already occupied. It may not have been occupied with his tangible presence but it was nonetheless occupied. It had always served as the perfect analogy for her situation and had she been more poetically inclined she would have been amused by how well it described everything. She could never make space in that room for anything other than him, anymore than she could make space in her heart for anyone else but him.
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