Barney paced the waiting room anxiously. Caesar had been brought into the ICU ten minutes ago. Molly was down the hall, scaring the hell out of some surgeon, bullying him into operating on their friend.
Barney almost felt bad for the man. He certainly wouldn't want to face down an angry Molly. But Caesar was teetering on the precipice between life and death. Barney didn't want to take any chances concerning his health.
Molly came back down the hall, her limp barely noticeable. She was wearing her charcoal colored t shirt, emblazoned with 'Rusty's.'
She and Billy had bought the building when the owner of Old Point died. It hadn't taken long before the bar was up and running again. But, instead of the usual barflies and day-drinkers, Rusty's welcomed a more liberal crowd as well; College kids, business men meeting after work for a beer.
Old Point had been a seedy little blip on the radar, lost among all the other shady places in New Orleans. Billy and Molly had turned it into a respectable establishment.
Of course, it hadn't been a seamless transition. Barney had nearly gotten up to play bouncer a couple of times when the college kids got uppity with the old guard.
Molly had always beat him to throwing them out on their asses, though.
That's where she had been when Toll had called her on their way home from Somalia, with Caesar laying between them, an IV drip hooked to his arm and a piece of gauze taped over his chest.
Molly had dropped everything, leaving Gabriel and the bar in the hands of her husband while she went to prepare the hospital for Caesar's arrival.
Molly wore a pair of holey blue jeans, so faded they were almost white, and a pair of gym shoes. Her hair was knotted at the back of her neck, but strands escaped. There were bruises under her bloodshot eyes.
Barney hadn't gotten a chance to ask Billy how she was doing. It had been two and a half months since she miscarried and hopped a plane to Italy to come save his ass.
"Hey, everything square?" Barney asked as she approached the exhausted men. They had dropped into the waiting room chairs.
"Yeah, they're wheelin' him into surgery now," she nodded, rubbing her brow. Barney smiled a bit before pulling her into a firm hug.
"Good to see ya, Booker," he said gruffly as he pulled away, ruffling her hair. She attempted to smile back.
"You, too. I'm glad the rest of you weren't hurt," she said as Gunnar pulled her into his side. Barney still couldn't get over how much the Swedish giant dwarfed her. Her brown eyes fell onto Doc.
"And who's this?" she wondered, glancing at Barney.
"Doctor Death," he stood and offered his hand, "You can only be John's little girl."
Molly grimaced as she shook his hand firmly. He met her eyes and returned her grip; She appreciated that.
"Yeah, well, I'm not so little anymore. You a medic?" she asked curiously. He grinned a grin that was not all together sane as he released her hand.
"Well, now, you didn't think you were the first medic Barney ever had, did you?" he responded, almost leering. Molly shifted her stance, cocking out a hip as she crossed her arms.
"Naw, I know I'm not the first, but I'm definitely the prettiest," she drawled. There was a beat of silence before he began to cackle.
"You probably are," he agreed.
The doctor came out about forty five minutes later and assured them that Caesar was stable. Nobody felt up to the post mission drinking, though.
"Sorry, fellas, I've got to get back. Billy needs to take Gabriel home and I don't trust my waitress not to set the place on fire. Come by tomorrow afternoon, I'll cook lunch," Molly said apologetically.
"Yeah, alright, thanks, Booker," Barney said gratefully. Truly, he had no right to expect her to drop everything. She wasn't on his payroll, she had quit the Life to raise her son and grow gray with her husband.
But Barney couldn't fool himself. She had the tattoo, she was part of the team, and she would be until she died. He squeezed her hand once and she gave him a fleeting smile.
She would always keep a foot in the door. She would never be able to completely settle down. It wasn't in her blood.
There was a light knocking on the office door. It was about half past ten, the time where Molly let the staff handle things on their own for an hour or so, so that she could get caught up on paperwork.
There were no taxes when you killed people for a living, she grumbled internally before glancing up.
Jan, her head waitress and shift manager, had poked her head in. Jan was in her late twenties with a Starvation Major, a lot of school bills, and no way to pay it off. She was a good worker and had a good head on her shoulders. Molly liked having her around.
"What's up?" Molly asked, stacking her papers neatly on the desk.
"One of your boys is out here. He's been through about half a bottle of cheap rum already and doesn't look like he has any intention of stopping," Jan informed her. Jan had been around long enough to know the Expendables by sight. She knew Molly and Billy watched out for them.
Immediately, Molly was on her feet and heading out of the office and into the bar.
"He's in the back corner," Jan said, pointing.
"Thanks, hon, I'll take care of it," Molly said, spotting Christmas's shaved head. Her stomach plummeted. Surely, if something had happened to Caesar, they would've called her, wouldn't they?
The bar wasn't too crowded tonight, but those in Molly's way parted like the Red Sea. They knew who she was and how much she enjoyed tossing people out of the bar.
The corner Christmas had claimed was dimly lit. She could only just make out his features as she slid into the booth across from him.
"Lee, is everything ok? Is Hale-" she didn't even want to finish the sentence.
"Fine," he brushed her off gruffly, "Caesar's fine." He poured himself another glass of the rum. Molly frowned deeply as he guzzled it without batting an eye.
"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" Molly hedged. Christmas slammed his glass down. Molly snatched the bottle away before he could grab it. He leaned across the table. Molly could smell the liquor on his breath.
"This is a drinking establishment, Molly, I'm here to drink," he wrenched the bottle from her hands and refilled his glass. She sighed deeply.
"Why aren't you drinking at home with Lacey?" she rephrased her question. Christmas scoffed, a hard scowl etched upon his face. He reached into his jacket and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out. He thrust it at her and continued drinking as she smoothed it out onto the table.
Molly instantly recognized Lacey's girlish cursive scrawl. She felt her heart sink lower and lower with every word her friend had written.
"Christ, Lee, I'm sorry-" she started. Internally, she was kicking herself. Lacey had been acting funny ever since the Expendables left on the last mission, almost two and a half weeks ago.
"Did you know?" Christmas asked coldly. Molly blinked once before his insinuation sunk in. He knew they had been close, ever since the Lottie thing. If Lacey wanted to run away, it wouldn't be too far of a jump to assume she'd gone to Molly for help.
"No, I didn't," Molly's voice was just as cold. She may have been retired and a mother, but she could still kick his ass. He had been her teammate, her comrade. Her first loyalty was to him. "She never said a word to me. Do you have any idea-"
"No. Things were good-" Christmas paused to take a sharp breath, "We were good."
Molly felt her heart break a little for the Brit.
One by one, the women had left.
It had started with Lottie. Toll had never, and would never, forgive her for keeping her parentage a secret. Instead of staying with him, she had chosen a happier life.
Lottie had dropped by Molly's house and hugged her tightly.
"Sorry, Molls, but it's not working out between Toll and I. I'm not going to keep trying to earn his forgiveness."
She had cuddled Gabriel and left. Molly got at least two postcards a week from her.
It had been about three months ago when Reggie left, but it had been on better terms.
"What about Barney?" Molly had asked helplessly. She didn't want the woman to leave. Reggie had become like her mother. The ginger had only smiled, though.
"Barney and I were never meant for long term, Molly. We were never meant for cohabitation. We're too old and too set in our ways. He knows that. Besides, I miss my boys in Boston."
And now Lacey had left, too, leaving another Expendable with a broken heart.
Molly reached across the table and squeezed Lee's arm, her hand right over his Expendables tattoo. He let one calloused hand rest over hers as he closed his eyes. Two tears fell down his cheeks.
In the semi darkness of Rusty's, with Poison playing faintly in the background, Lee Christmas, the unflappable, stiff-upper-lipped Englishman cried drunken tears into the chipped table as Molly rested her hand on his shoulder and arm, anchoring him.
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