Okay, I've been gone for an age, and for that I'm sorry. RL really gets in the way sometimes. But I've been working on this story (on and off) for months and I'm finally ready to share it. I've never really tackled a Jimcentric fic, so I'm a bit nervous. Your support would be much appreciated. I have so many people to thank here, first and foremost M&M: MrsMCrieff, she read this months ago and pushed and pushed me to keep working on it. She also has given me ALL the Birt help (as always!) and has been a great friend. Next, MizJoely who not only beta'd this fic but is frankly the most amazing cheerleader in the world. If you find any mistakes, by the way, they belong to me! Her support is absolutely priceless! There are more thanks to come in specific chapters, keep an eye out!

The chapter titles are lyrics from Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah'. And they are not random.

Warnings: (this chapter) - animal death (not graphic, just mentioned)

Rating may change in later chapters. I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

-Your Faith Was Strong But You Needed Proof-

Molly walked in her front door and gratefully dropped her heavy bag to the floor as she kicked off her shoes. Most days she hated her job, but today was especially horrific. The office was short staffed, again, and she was taking on the workload of at least four people. One of her favourite patients had died; his daughter had called to let her know. And that bitch Kasey had complained about her to HR. What a twat. There had been bad days at Barts, but she'd never felt like this: exhausted, yes, but never completely beaten down.

She tried not to dwell on it, since there was really no point. This was her life now, like it or not. Tea, I need tea, she thought as she made her way to her kitchen. As she put the kettle on- damnit, teapot... all this time and she still forgot. As she put the teapot on the stove her cell phone dinged, alerting her to an incoming text message.

Just checking in darling. How are we feeling today?

Molly cringed as she gripped the device. She tried to fight down her rising panic while she thought of a response.

Are your ankles very swollen?

"Why do you still torment me?" she spoke to her empty house. "I did as I was told."

Answer me or I'll do something you most definitely won't like.

Molly drew a deep breath and typed her response. Everything's fine. Not much swelling.

The reply was almost instantaneous. Good girl. Take good care of my package. Wouldn't want any nasty surprises, would we?

Her stomach turned as she read the words. She decided to forget about the tea and take a long hot bath instead.

She felt her muscles relaxing and the tension of the day ebbing away as she ran her hands over her ever expanding belly.

-About ten months prior-

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?"

It was everywhere, on every screen in Barts. Molly rushed out of the hospital; she had no intention of taking the tube, not today. She managed to get a cab, how, she wasn't quite how sure since people were actually panicking. It wasn't just the message over the airways, it seemed that there was a problem with mobile phone masts as well. She'd never seen that before: actual widespread panic. She had to get somewhere safe. Sherlock was gone and Jim was back. If Moriarty knew she'd helped Sherlock escape his fate three years before, she was as good as dead.

"Scotland Yard, please. Do you think you can make it with this traffic?" she asked the cabbie, really not looking at him at all. He grunted in response. They drove for a while and Molly kept trying to phone Greg. It was no good, she couldn't get a signal. She glanced up every once in awhile to see that, even though the traffic was thick, they were making headway. It seemed to be a strange route but she thought the cabbie was just avoiding the grid-lock. Before long Molly realised that they were nowhere near NSY. No, they were pulling up to Molly's flat.

"What the hell?" she said. "How did..."

The cabbie turned around, revealing himself... "Hey Doll! How ya been?" the man said as her blood ran cold.

A few minutes later Molly was in her lounge with James Moriarty. He sat in her favorite chair and she on her settee.

"What's wrong, love?" the madman asked.

Molly stared in disbelief. "Wh-what do you mean, what's wrong?"

"Well, you seem extremely nervous," he said matter-of-factly.

She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped. "What do you want with me?"

"Ah, down to business. I like it." He removed his cap and tossed it on the coffee table. "You owe me, ya see," he said with a smile, as if she was supposed to know what he meant.

"H-how do... what are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Right, you don't know everything. Okay, Sherlock, was to be sent off to his death today. He didn't tell you, did he? I'm rarely wrong about these things."

Molly's eyes started to fill with tears for the first time. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself and not break down in front of the psychopath. "You're lying," she whispered.

"Sorry Molls. Sherlock did a bad, bad thing. And his big brother was sending him into exile that would have led to his death, sooner or later." He leaned in and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Let me just emphasize sooner."

"Greg said a mission..."

James cut her off. "NO! He lied! He lied to all of you. Well, not to you, I suppose. He didn't even think about you. Not even a kiss on the cheek this time."

The tears finally started to fall; she was helpless to stop them.

"After all your hard work, all the risks, fibbing to all your friends... when the end came, Molly Hooper, you meant nothing to him. Nothing at all," he spit out the last words with so much venom they caused her to flinch.

A sick sounding laugh came from him, then he said, "Tell me you're not surprised. Because despite everything, Molly, I always thought that you were intelligent. Don't tell me you actually believed him when he flattered you. What? Did he tell you that you were a part of his inner circle? Important… valued." He paused and stared at her while his words soaked in. "Well if so, clearly you were mistaken."

She stared at her coffee table and tried desperately to figure out if he was telling the truth. It had been months since Sherlock had spoken to her. He'd swept into the lab twice- three times maybe- since the drugs test. He'd barely acknowledged her, made eye contact once, and that only for a moment. Then there was that woman from the papers. He'd been engaged. Jim was right at least about one thing, he hadn't said goodbye, even if it was just a mission. She thought they were friends- thought she meant something to him. That she counted in some small way.

Perhaps she was wrong.

She cleared her throat. "Why are you telling me all of this? And what do you mean, I owe you?"

"You owe me for today, obviously. He's back, I saved him. My little trick kept him from being sent off to God know where to be blown to smithereens." He paused, staring at her. "You're welcome by the way. All your hard work, all you dedication to him, it won't go to waste. He lives thanks to dear old Jim!" he said as he raised his hands high in the air.

Molly sighed. "O-kay. Th-thank you."

"That my dear Molly, isn't quite enough. I require repayment. And you must also pay for your past sins. You know what I'm talking about, you naughty thing. Helping him escape my little trap." He shook his head. "Either you can pay or your precious Sherlock and all his little sheep can pay. What'll it be?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, her heart rate speeding up.

"You will leave London Town. England. Europe for that matter. You'll never contact Sherlock Holmes or any of his associates again. If you do as I ask, I'll halt the game. Leave him alone. No buildings will blow up. No one goes flying off of rooftops. No strategically place snipers." He leaned forward. "However, if you don't do as I say, I have a whole set of semtex vests for the DI, the old woman, Mommy and Daddy Holmes, the Watsons, even a teeny-tiny one for the wee babe, when it comes. I will spare you the details of what I have planned for your beloved, don't want to spoil all the fun. What'd you say?" He leaned back and smiled. "Leave this life behind - this life where the man you love doesn't give two shits about you whatsoever - and save a whole bunch of lives in the process. Or stay here and watch all of Sherlock's family and friends die. I'll save him for last, ya know. Make him watch," he said with terrifying snarl. Then his tone changed once again. "And you will live, Molly. Live with the knowledge that you could have stopped it." The amount of sheer joy in his voice was utterly disgusting.

Molly hadn't moved during his speech, she'd could barely breathe. Just then her mobile rang, making her jump. She looked down at it. "It's John," she said, shocked that her vocal cords were working.

"Course it is. I fixed the cell phone masts just so they could contact you and keep the noble doctor from running over here." He laughed. "You didn't think it'd be him did you? Well answer it and explain that you're fine, safe and sound at home. Doors locked. There's no need to check on you."

She took a deep breath and answered, "Hi John."

"Molly, thank God. You saw the broadcast I assume?"

"Oh yeah. Um, I came home, of course. Freaked me out. But I double bolted my door. I'm fine." She was trying her best to keep her voice normal, but was afraid she was failing.

"Look Molly, if he wants to come after you..." John was cut off by Sherlock's voice.

"Molly! Do you still have the handgun I gave you when I left on the mission?" he frantically rattled off.

She couldn't speak. Her throat closed up as she looked at Jim pleadingly. He looked back at her with venom in his eyes. She found her strength. "Y-yes, Sherlock. I- I still have it."

"Good, make sure it's loaded. I'll come check on you as soon as I have things under control here, understand?"

"I'll be fine. Just take care of this... whatever it is, okay?" she said, trying even harder to sound controlled and calm.

"Keep your doors locked," he said before ringing off.

She said 'Goodbye Sherlock' even though there was no one on the other end.

Moriarty beamed. "Well done, Moll Doll." He paused and looked at her with utter contentment on his face for a moment then he finally spoke, "You really do love him, don't you?"

Molly nodded as James got up and walked over to her. "W-will I ever see him again?" she asked, looking up at the madman.

Moriarty gently stroked her cheeks, wet with tears. "No, you won't. But he'll live. Once again, because of your sacrifice Sherlock Holmes and his friends live, while Molly Hooper suffers." He crouched down so that he was eye level with the weeping pathologist.

"Can I bring please Toby?" she begged..

He shook his head. "No," he said stroking her cheeks with both hands. "I already killed him."

Jim visited Molly frequently after she settled into her small house in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. He had set her up with a job as a medical assistant. She had a new identity, Mary Carpenter. He seemed so pleased with himself at his first visit. She thought he was just happy that he had won, that had gotten her to leave her home and friends and Sherlock. The real meaning behind his smug little smiles wouldn't reveal itself for about three months, when Molly realised she was somehow pregnant.

Jim had been a busy little consulting criminal, though. He spent each and every visit poisoning Molly Hooper. Oh, not with chemicals or drugs. Not with plants or concoctions. No, he poisoned Molly with words. He poisoned Molly with lies. He cut Molly Hooper open from the inside out. But she had nowhere to run, she had no choice but to listen as Jim told her over and over again how useless she really was. How no one cared that she had left without a trace. How not a soul in London missed her. Least of all… Sherlock Holmes.

And after a while, Molly Hooper started to believe him.

Okay, I'm really dying to hear from you. Please drop me a line. I am working on my other WIPs. I haven't forgotten or abandoned them. Thank you so much for reading. I will update very soon. ~Lil~