(Hullo my super patient readers, if you see this message then you might be confused. To continue where I left off with this RP I have gone back to reread the work and in the process have been fixing errors, continuity and to better the characters and their design. Some chapters I found way too short and smushed them together. Be patient, new new chapters are coming. Also make sure you go back and reread the newly edited Chp 1 to 3!)

Chapter 4

"Here we are then!"

They walked into the library and it occurred to Molly that she didn't even know what she wanted to read or even if she wanted to read at all anymore, now that she had company. Eyes searched the room around at all the books, not knowing where to start. Jim walked ahead of her and kneeled down in front of the fire place. Some paper and matches, he got a fire going and walking to the end table, he picked up his book where he had left it. Cross-legged, he sat down comfortable by the flames and took in the heat.

"Much better," he hummed.

Under observation, Molly watched him walk over to the fireplace, cocking her head to the side as she noticed some strange marks on his back. Were those... scars? She walked over to him, and could now make out that the cuts were older scars.

"Jim, your back..."

In panic, he turned around, leapt up and pressed himself against the mantle.

"I'm, uh, so sorry," Jim babbled. Shit. See saw. She saw. "I'll just um..." He tried to take a step around the couch but caught his foot on the rug and in his fall, his head scraped against the corner of the buffet along the wall. Molly automatically rushed forward to help him- Doctor's instinct, she supposed.

"Are you alright?" she asked with concern as she examined the small cut the desk had made in the side of his head, "Doesn't look too bad. Just a scrape." She helped him sit up.

"Um... ya... thanks..." Jim pouted. If anything his dignity was in more pain, he hated to play the fool. Molly was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was kneeling on the floor beside him, her hand resting on his bare shoulder to make sure he was fine. Blushing again, Molly pulled away, but still remained at his side.

"Right. Um. Okay, just... making sure- as your doctor... and- yeah." She cleared her throat, not meeting his eyes yet again. Jim looked up to her and saw her face of concern. In his mind he turned over what it may have looked from her point of view. Standing, he moved back to the fireplace and sat as Molly followed him.

"Jeez I must have looked silly," Jim started with a chuckle, then playing it in his mind again and again, he broke out in laughter. Wide-eyed, she looked back at him and then started giggling softly.

"It was rather funny, I'll admit," Molly said, still laughing.

"Just flat out umph," Jim clutched his stomach and bent his body in half. Here it was. Here the world's most dangerous man, the Consulting Criminal, crumpled to the floor and laughing at himself.

"My, my, my," he wheezed and started to catch his breath. Still laughing, Molly caught another glimpse at his back, and found herself wondering what could possibly be so bad about those scars that he'd made such an effort to hide them. She finished laughing and she slightly furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at him as she wondered.

"Whew!" He sat up and found her studying him, "Deducing me doctor? I haven't seen keen eyes like those since Sherlock."

Automatically Molly shook her head, "I don't think I ever could." She paused, wondering if she should ask, and deciding that she would, even if she shouldn't.

"Jim. The scars on your back- what... How did you... What happened?"

Heaving a sigh, he turned around and pressed his back near to her, "They might be old but I guess they're still there. Tell me what you see? A test on your analysis skills I suppose. And being that they are old, almost like studying the dead maybe? Well no maggots or skin falling off, I'll give you that."

Startled by his sudden insistence Molly studied at the scars, lightly running her fingers over the long cuts, trying to figure out what had caused them. They were old scars, very old scars, some deeper than others, but all having to have been rather deep to begin with, to leave these scars this many years later. But what caused them?

"Something from a long time ago," she muttered aloud, more to herself than anything. She did that often, talk to herself as she worked. After all, it's not like the dead were much for conversation. They looked like knife cuts, very deep knife cuts, but the scars were so old, it couldn't possibly be that... Because if they were knife cuts, which meant...

"Oh. You got these as a child," Molly concluded, staring horrified at the scars, "But. But they're..." She picked her head up at him, terrified. No way could she imagine a child undergoing the kind of injuries these must have been.

"Mmm," Jim let his shoulders drop further when she touched him, leaving little spots of warmth where she lightly pressed with her finger tips, "Guilty as charged. But they are what?"

"They're knife wounds," she said softly, "They're torture wounds. Jim, who- who did this to you?"

"Mother dearest, sweet lass she was," it took him back; back to the small thing they called a house. His father passed out drunk somewhere and her feverishly praying at the personal alter she built in the living room.

"Your- your mother did this to you?" Molly was... angry? Yes, angry. Angry that any mother could ever be capable of doing something like this to their child. Monster. Even if Jim was nasty in his own way, as a child- it's always different with children Molly surmised.

"Mhm, yep. She had her reasons. In her mind I was cause of devastation so I was an instrument for the sacrifice of her higher power or something," he explained much too calmly and the knots began to twist in Molly.

"Jim, that's... That's horrible. I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. Either way it still worked out in the end, much to my relief."

"What do you mean 'it worked out in the end'?" Molly wasn't sure if she wanted to know what he meant. The sense of dread was washing over, though curiosity poked.

"Would you rather I lied or told you the truth. Your option," Jim replied, if she didn't want to know he was fine. But she did he was fine with that too.

"I... The truth. I want to know the truth," Molly replied softly. Stretching and cracking his bones, Jim settled back down in front of the fire and gazed ahead into the embers. Moving slow as if the floor below her might disappear, Molly joined him and was sure plenty of space was between them.

"I believe this time it was for the praise and amens for the man in the sky, he sacrificed a son for us so it was our duty to repay him. 'Blood for blood' I think she called it. Between my two lovely parents, I was not exactly planned and it forced them to live together. When he got drunk enough he might have a go at her and sometimes me. And life went on, for I was her grave sin by having me out of wedlock," Jim began, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on his arms. The story was rehearsed too many times to his liking. Molly stared at him, not knowing what to say. It was horrible, so terrible.

"I-I'm sorry, Jim," she repeated, "I'm so sorry."

"Back to that particular day I came home from school and she was in her fit again, sobbing and feverishly praying in her corner. By her clock it was time again, so she had me laid there and I stayed silent as usual. Daddy walked in and started her for whatever reason and she dropped it next to me..." without realizing it he had pulled out the pocket knife and was twiddling it about in his hands. The faint smell of whiskey and burning herbs filled his nose. Rough floorboards scratched at his belly and a hand keeping him down, despite his compliance.

"He started going on at her, telling her she was a nutter with her 'Praise be!' and 'Salvation!' so the two started having a row. So I stared at it for a while, fascinating thing it is," he showed Molly the blade and unnaturally his voice dipped lower, "You sure you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"I- I... Yes. Yes, I want to hear the rest," she said, her voice trembled and sounded horrified when she stared at the knife in his hands. She knew the ending already or at least she knew. How much more Molly desired to know flip flopped in her mind and the way Jim spoke continued to unnerve.

"Ok. Annoyed he walked away, and she turned around to come back at me, but was puzzled when she could not find her instrument of the lord. She had knelt down, 'Dearest son, did you see where it fell? We cannot keep him waiting now right?' I had it hidden in my pocket," Jim was glad Molly couldn't see him because he knew the grin on his face would have ruined it all, "So when I didn't answer, she pressed me..."

'I hate you mummy...'

"And so, I jumped at her. From there I may have lost it, I mean, there were too many jabs here and there for me to remember. I lost count. For such a small thing the blood spurt was a surprising pattern and amount." Jim continued in interest without spying on his listener's expression. Molly sat back, unsure exactly how she felt about this or even how she should feel about this. Jim had plenty of reason to hate his mother... But how terrible could she have possibly been to have driven a child to commit murder? And yet he was tortured, 'What would I have done?'

"Daddy wasn't too happy with what I did either, even if he didn't like her. This I remember quite clearly. He swore and cursed me but didn't come near me, I was still holding it of course. I heard him go into his room and get the shotgun, then there he was standing in front of me with the barrel inches away. I just looked at him, I think I even dared him. We sort of stared at each other for a while."

'THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HER!?'

'...'

'Answer me you fucking bastard.'

'...'

"I remember he raised the gun, so I stepped forward until the barrel touched my head, by now he was shaking all over. Very jittery. Next thing I know, he stuck it in his mouth. Boom. When the police and press finally came round, they were desperate to know my name. Who I was. But the police held them off because I was minor of only eight."

Next he was standing in the shabby room with the dirty carpet near him, drooping wallpaper and a body crumpling to the floor. Brain and bone decorated the hallway floor and behind him were the alter was a pool of blood could be offered directly from the fanatic. Coppers then were carrying him away and he pasted on his face dead eyes and the most hidden of smirks, only seen out of the corner of one officer's eye. The timid voice brought him back and he remembered he was with the living.

"Jim. I- I'm so sorry. That must've been... It must've been the worst. You were only eight," she mumbled, more to herself than anything.

"No. It wasn't bad at all, o jeez Molly it was relief," Jim finally turned round to look, "I was free. They were gone. It was the greatest thing I ever could have done for myself. Plus it was interesting to watch them in the aftermath."

Molly didn't know what to say. She couldn't understand- she loved her parents. I mean, sure, her mum and her didn't exactly see eye-to-eye on many things, but she still loved her. It was unfathomable to imagine hating either of her parents so much that she would have preferred them to be... dead. For a moment Molly opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again, looking down. What could she say? Reasonably she couldn't say she understood- she didn't and she couldn't say that he'd been right in killing his mother and Molly could never support murder, no matter how bad a person they'd been.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"Teh... and you still want to stay?" he asked, sliding the knife away, "You want to stay with me?"

"Why- why wouldn't I want to stay?" Molly asked, "It's not like you're a different person now than you were earlier today. You're still… you. Just because you told me how you became you. Why would that change anything?" Sure, she was terrified of the story, but it's not like she hadn't known that Jim had done some truly terrible things in his life before she agreed to be his doctor.

"How do you think of me then? Of earlier today? Because what I think is, you are very bravvve Ms. Hooper, oh yes. I've told the same tale to a couple of my clients and they usually cringe and give in to my demands at this point. Oh no, no, no. Not The Molly Hooper though."

Disagreeing she shook her head. "I'm not brave," Molly muttered, her voice shaking slightly, "I'm scared... I'm scared of you, Jim, but I still... I don't know. I'm drawn to you, I suppose."

"Like a moth to a flame. Very interesting," Jim said before lying back on the floor next to her, arms folded behind his head, "Just so fascinating."

Watching him Molly glanced down at him, and turned her attention to the fire to try to find a distraction.

"But you wouldn't burn me," she whispered, "At least... I hope not."

"Burn the heart out of you? No. I doubt I would be capable," he squinched his toes and closed his eyes. This allowed Molly to study him again and found that he looked so calm and peaceful. This led her wondering how he could possibly be a criminal mastermind. He certainly didn't look the part, lying here on the ground in front of the fireplace, eyes shut.

"Molly, you know it makes me really happy to have you here. Honestly."

Without thinking, she reached over and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Thank you," she replied, blushing.

When he realized Molly touched him, Jim opened his eyes and watched her. In reaction, Jim slightly scratched the inside of her wrist with his index finger and grinned with a blush. Molly could feel her face going crimson, she had to escape his gaze, pulling her hand back and nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. What was she doing? He was a psychopathic criminal... And not only had Molly agreed to work for him, now she was sitting here with him in his library, with him half-dressed, and holding his hand? And the part that really scared her was that she still didn't regret any of it.

His fingers flexed and pined when Molly removed her hand, but instead he tucked it underneath his head again.

"I think I'll sleep here for the night Molly, just in front of the fireplace. If you want to stay and read that's fine, it won't bother me," Jim said a bit tired before rolling onto his side, away from her.

"Oh, but Jim, you can't just sleep on the floor," she replied, still kneeling beside him, "I don't want you sleeping on the floor just because I decided I wanted to read."

"Of course I can, I love the fire. Whether you read or not I'm staying right here," Jim pouted and gave a reassuring smile. Molly frowned slightly, staring at Jim and judging whether or not she should insist he should not sleep on the floor. Deciding against it, she sighed and got up, walking over to a nearby shelf to examine the books and see if she found anything interesting.

"Anything you'd recommend?" she asked.

"Atonement, Dante's Inferno, or maybe Paradise Lost..." he suggested lazily and turned over on his other side to roast his back and watch her too. The room was mostly dark save for the light of the fire and the faint glow of the few lights. Slowly, he crawled to the couch and dragged himself up, something soft for his head he figured.

Out of the corner of her eye, Molly noticed him moving, and smiled slightly at the fact that he'd finally listened. Dante's Inferno was the first of the three that she spotted, so she pulled that book out and headed over to sit on the armchair across from him. She clutched the book in front of her, staring at him for a moment, wondering if she should say anything and then quietly opened it to read, deciding it best not to speak.

Keeping his eyes closed, Jim would shift slightly then and again, and tried to fall asleep for her sake. But of course he wasn't tired. Sleep wasn't much of a hobby for him. Sometime passed before he decided to crack open one eye; he peered at the title and closed his eye again.

"Surprised you chose that one, bit grim when compared to the rest of the Comedy," Jim spoke up.

During her read Molly knew he wasn't asleep because he kept shifting occasionally, but it still caught her by surprise when he finally spoke up, causing her to jump slightly as his voice broke the silence.

"Oh, I- Well, I suppose I've always found the idea of the nine circles of Hell rather interesting," she replied.

Jim chuckled, Molly Hopper interested in the circles of hell? Just not possible, he sighed and tried to draw his mind blank and relax. It was perfectly normal, just lying on the couch while his doctor read books into the wee hours of the night. 'Don't kid yourself, this is by no means normal.'

'Toss off.'

'Just telling you what you already know.'

'I'll kill you.'

'You already tried.'

Frustrated with himself Jim curled into himself and tried not to think, that's what they always said, the more that buzzed in your mind the harder it was to sleep right? So he tried to think of nothingness. Just an empty black. No sound or color or smell. Think of nothing. With interest Molly watched him as she read, occasionally glancing up from Dante's plight at him. He kept fidgeting, and at moments it looked almost as though he were having some sort of internal battle with himself. She finally closed the book and asked.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

"Please, nothing. Just... just trouble trying to fall asleep, as usual," Jim moved so he was lying on his stomach and his face buried in the pillow. An arm dangling from the couch, he flickered his wrist at her and he rolled his feet around until his ankles cracked. With pursed lips Molly continued to study him and tried to decide if she should push the subject.

"Maybe you should talk about whatever's keeping you up," she suggested.

"It's nothing please," he lied and turned his face so he could gaze at her, "Please don't let my eccentricities trouble you enough, enjoy the book and fire. I insist," he said politely. In his gut Jim felt as if he could have opened to her, already he shared more than he would have ever imagined. With Sebastian he was the first to not run away, rather interested in the younger man. Now with Molly, course she had to be disgusted and full of pity for him. Yet her she was. The idea made him smile into the pillow, so willing to accept him already, if he informed her of any more she would probably be scared off. That was the last thing Jim wanted.

Unconvinced Molly frowned slightly, cocking her head to the side as she watched at him. She put the book aside on the table beside the chair, and walked over to the couch, kneeling beside it.

"Jim, tell me," she ordered, with a sudden burst of bravery that quickly receded. She maintained her position, though. She wasn't going to let herself back down now, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Really Molly, just go back to your reading alright," he said trying to sound tired.

'Ohhh look at her, she's a brave one!'

'Sure she is…'

'But you ought to watch for that temper of youuuurs.'

'I know!'

"Sorry if I disturbed you again," Jim bit his lip and curled his toes anxiously.

"I don't want to read anymore," she replied, "Please, Jim, just talk to me." She had no idea why she continued to insist instead of just dropping the subject, as he obviously wanted her to.

"I'm fine," he snarled a bit.

'Tsk, tsk no way to treat a lady.'

'...'

'You should give her something to work on.'

"Everything is just...peachy."

"No- no it's not. It's- it's obviously not," Molly insisted, cowering a bit at the fact that he had snarled his first response, "Just tell me what's wrong. Maybe- maybe I can help."

Jim desperately clung on to what was left, but it was grabbing for straws and he fell. Without provocation, he flipped off the couch and had her pinned to the floor, one hand clasped around her neck.

"I said I was fine and I am fine. I'm the best I can ever be. So just leave me alone!" he growled.

Even with him on top Molly merely blinked up at him, her heart racing, but determined.

"No, you're not," she replied softly, "You're not fine." She didn't know what had gotten into her. Maybe she had a death wish? Anyone in their right mind would know not to say what she had just said. God the wave of fear was running through her blood and her shock kicked her voice down from a possible scream to calm. Stay there. Calm.

"Jim, please. Please stop, just- just tell me."

And he did. Nothing ever brought him back so quickly. Blinking fast, focusing proper, Jim scrambled off her and he dared not to look at her.

"Please Molly, I'm so sorry." The effect this woman had on him, was of some other level. Other times when he had gotten like this only Sebastian could pick him up and physically drag him away from whatever body he had been tearing to pieces with. Why her? The simple lass that worked at Bart's. Why was his instincts pining after her, even after the Fall!

"Forgive me."

"I- it's alright," Molly replied softly as she sat up, staring at him, surprised by his reaction. "II just... I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, I'm glad to know that... you care," Jim said awkwardly, his mind raced and he was feeling ridiculously exposed.

"I should- I should go. You think you know your way back?"

Molly debated whether she could pretend she knew her way back and risk getting lost again, or saying the truth, which was that she had absolutely no idea how to get back. She bit her lip, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I- I'm sure I could... I'm fine. I'll be fine getting back," she lied. Molly wondered what on Earth could possibly be wrong that had caused Jim to react that way when she tried to help.

With a quick nod Jim slid out of the room and headed straight for the bed room, even slamming the door shut behind him.

She sighed as he left, and picked up the book again, this time lying on the couch to read. After awhile she decided not to even attempt to head back to her own room now, knowing full-well that she probably wouldn't be able to get there without getting lost anyways. Eventually, she fell asleep in the library, the copy of Dante's Inferno resting beside her.

Jim was not sure how long he paced the room for until the sky began to glow a soft yellow before he gave up and decided to go shower. Outside, Sebastian was heading off somewhere when he found Jim.

"Alright Boss? Rough night of sleep? Or just a rough night?"

"Drop it," Jim glared at him and his hands twitched to hit him, but he resisted, pushing past him to the bathroom.