A tear fell from Molly's eye as she pieced everything together about the man sitting across from her. He wanted to reach out and brush it away, but he figured she'd slap his hand away. He saw the pain written all over her face. She felt betrayed by him.
So many thoughts raced through his mind as she sat across from him with her brave face crumbling. He should have been furious that she figured him out, but he was just horrified that he had made her cry. All he wanted to do in that moment was reach out to comfort her, to make it all go away. But he would have been rebuffed.
She wanted to yell and scream at him, to make him leave, and perhaps to throw a few plates at his head as he left. She refused to look at him, instead keeping her gaze fixed on her uneaten plate of food. The anger and heartache she felt coursed through her, making her tremble. Everything dawned on her at once, how many people were dead at his hands, the havoc and mayhem he caused purely for the pleasure of it, and the fool she had been for believing the lies he told her.
The silence dragged on and on; neither of them dared to speak first. Too much hung in the balance of what happened next. Jim found himself thinking he really didn't want to lose Molly. And all she could think was that maybe not everything had been a lie. The chances of that were slim. She couldn't believe he had ever been interested in her for her. She was a pawn in his scheme. And he had slithered his way into her life. She didn't even know why.
He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from her face, watching the emotions and thoughts dance in her eyes. It was torture seeing how he was making her suffer, knowing there were no words to make it better. She refused to look at him, no matter how desperately he wanted her to. If he could catch her gaze for a moment, he could have eased her heartache. She just didn't want to see his cold eyes again.
What hurt her the most was that she had never seen what he truly was, that he had blinded her with charm so she couldn't see past his lies. He was a true monster in her eyes, the worst kind, a merciless beast who took prey for his own amusement. And she had been chewed up and spat out just like so many others.
Finally, after so much silence, she lifted her head. She didn't utter a syllable; she didn't even breathe. But Jim knew to leave. He looked down at her as he rose from the table, his eyes full of remorse and anguish. But still, Molly wouldn't say anything. He left her flat with his tail between his legs, something he had never done before. His ego had been as badly injured as his heart.
He took one final look around her flat, letting his gaze linger on Molly as she slumped against the table. As he closed the door behind him, he heard the shattering of dishes. She actually had thrown a plate as he walked out. But she had done it in rage, with no intention of hurting him.
As he got into his car, he realized that if anyone else had seen him for who he really was, he'd have ordered someone to kill them. But not Molly. He was going to see that she had protection because he couldn't stand the thought of anyone getting to her. No matter how things had ended, he did care for her. It might have gone against everything he stood for, but Molly Hooper had always been extraordinary. No other woman could have made him feel the way she had. He would miss her.
Molly started cleaning up after she was sure Jim had left. A clean kitchen would go a long way to making her feel better. She decided that she needed to know more about who Jim really was, so she texted John. "I have some questions. Please come to my flat. Molly" He'd know just as much as Sherlock, and he wouldn't chastise her for falling for his lies.
John came over an hour later. Molly brought out tea and the strawberry tart she had made, not wanting to waste something so wonderful. He sat down and prepared to listen to her story.
"Jim, from IT, he's not who he says he is."
John snorted. "I know. He tried to blow me up."
She looked horrified. "Who is he?"
He took a deep breath, gearing up for something big. "He's the most dangerous man in the world, Molly, and you need to stay away from him. I'm sure he was with you to get to Sherlock. Did he ever hurt you?"
"No, not physically," she sighed. "I don't know how I could have been so blind. But I kicked him out. He didn't say anything, but I knew he'd been lying to me. I just didn't know it was this bad. What has he done?"
John recanted the long list of things he knew Moriarty had done, watching the horror grow on Molly's face. She felt awful knowing she had been fooled by him, especially when she had seen a glimpse of who he really was when they first met. But he dialed up the charm and took her for a ride.
"It's okay, Molly, don't beat yourself up. Jim can fool anyone. He is just that crazy and just that brilliant. As long as he didn't hurt you, that's what matters. Come on, let me buy you a drink. You look like you need it."
She nodded weakly, still stunned at knowing just how much blood Jim had on his hands. Had she made one misstep, he might have killed her, too. For all she knew, he could have been planning to. She had seen past his act, and it could have been putting her in danger. She looked at John with panic in her eyes. "He might kill me, too," she remarked, her voice cracking in fear.
John put his hand on her shoulder. "You should go stay with friends or family for a while, someplace where he can't find you. Just in case."
They sat at a bar sipping drinks and trying not to talk about Jim Moriarty. She had asked him never to tell Sherlock how badly he had fooled her. John nodded in agreement, knowing Sherlock would have been merciless if he knew.
Over the next couple of weeks, Molly let Jim drift back into her thoughts. Ever the good person, she hated how it had ended. Even though she knew he was a monster, she wanted to know why he'd taken advantage of her. "Oh, grow a spine, Molly," she chided herself harshly in front of the bathroom mirror.
It never occurred to her that Jim might have felt the slightest bit of remorse or that he missed her companionship. But he did. He hated that he still thought about her, yet she crossed his mind quite frequently. He still cared for her and had gone to a lot of trouble to see that no one got close to her. She was protected by his name, something that had only happened to one other person.
It had been three weeks since they last saw each other when Jim got an unexpected text. "We need to talk. Meet me at Bart's in the cafeteria at 2 PM on Friday. Molly" He was shocked and pleased to hear from her, hoping there was a chance for reconciliation.
He stood by the vending machines in the cafeteria, per her request, waiting for her to meet him. He was wearing one if his best suits since he had no further need to hide in front of her. A bouquet of sunny yellow roses wrapped in brown florist's paper rested on the table beside him, possibly to bribe her into giving him a second chance. In the time they'd been apart, he realized that even though he didn't love her, he cared about her. It was the closest thing to love he was capable of.
The elevator door opened, and she walked out. She was wearing her white lab coat, obviously taking a break from working to see him. Her stance was taller, and she walked with more pride. She walked over to Jim, feeling like a tower of strength. Nothing he could ever say would change her mind. She wouldn't even let him speak.
He held the roses out to her, and she begrudgingly accepted them. "Molly-" he began, but she raised a hand. He stopped speaking instantly.
"I don't care what you have to say or how you want to justify the horrible things you did. You lied to me and strung me along to get close to Sherlock. I never want to see your face or hear your name for the rest of my life. You are a monster, James Moriarty."
She dropped the roses at his feet and turned on her heels, marching away a stronger woman. Jim stood in stunned silence for too long, amazed that such a meek woman could find the courage to speak to him that way. He looked down at the roses, unable to pick them up. She had struck a blow that he had never expected. He had never been rejected in such an extreme fashion, and he hated it.
He kicked the flowers out of his way and walked out. She had struck a blow, but life had to go on. There was no way he could wallow in his rejection. He still had an empire to run.