Keep Breathing
Chapter 7


Jim slid his key smoothly into the lock, twisting it and allowing the door to swing smoothly open before him, just as if he had never been away. He stepped over the threshold taking the time to glance around the flat as he dropped his heavy backpack, leaving it by the door for him to pick up later. Unpacking could wait; he had more important things to be doing. Without turning he stuck his leg out behind him and pushed the door shut, it locked with a satisfying click.

"Molly?" he called, "Molly I'm back!"

There was no response; the silence seemed to pulsate around him.

"Molly! I have presents for you." he chorused using his gentlest voice despite the anger that was beginning to bubble away in the pit of his stomach.

Where the bloody hell was she? She should be there, sitting alone on the sofa staring at old pictures of the two of them, reminiscing….missing him.

He twisted his hands into the light cotton of his trousers as his stomach lurched.

Had something happened to her? Had someone tracked him down and finding him gone decided to seek retribution on his little Molly instead?
His hands twisted deeper into the fabric, his knuckles digging into his thigh.
If
so they would payas would all their family and friends and everyone in the entire world.

"Molly! Molly! Molly!" he screamed into the empty flat over and over, his shouts reverberating off the walls; he had no doubt that the neighbours would complain.

Nothing. He didn't know why he expected anything else.

Sinking into the faded couch, it had been new when he'd left, he curled his legs up beneath him and drummed a pattern on his sternum…dundun…dundun..dundun…Molly….Molly….Molly.

The sound of raised voices just outside the door woke Jim around five hours later.
The London skyline out of the window had darkened to a deep blue-black and the flat was shrouded in darkness. He yawned, straining his ears to make out the voices that were shouting….no, laughing…on the other side of the reinforced door-a criminal mastermind couldn't take too many chances, especially not with Molly at risk.

A long, high pitched giggle pierced through the steel plating and Jim smiled. His happiness faded however as a low, distinctly male voice sounded afterwards the sharp edges of the words lost so they were just an indiscernible mumble.

Keys jingled, the lock clicked and Molly stumbled in her hair windswept and cheeks flushed pink by the chill, autumn wind. But more importantly her lips attached to those of a young, blonde haired boy.

Something hot and dangerous roared to life in his chest.
He cleared his throat as calmly as possible and peeled himself off the sofa, pleased to see that Molly's eyes still lit up as she spied him across the room.

"JIM! You're home!"

She was upon him before he had time to say anything, her arms around his neck and feet dangling just a few centimetres off the floor. He breathed her in.

Molly, his Molly.

He had missed her desperately.

"Did you bring me back any presents?" he chuckled though it didn't quite come from the heart and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her nose all the while aware of the fair stranger watching them from the open doorway. Jim wished he would close it; didn't he realise that they were all a target?

"Perhaps. Aren't you going to introduce me to your…" he forced down the nausea as he recalled the way the couple had fell into the room, too wrapped up in each other to notice his presence, "…friend?" he finally popped out between his lips.

The young man took a step forward, the door was still wide open, and stretched out a hand towards Jim whose frown only deepened his right arm staying exactly where it was, wrapped around Molly's shoulders.

"There no need Mr Moriarty," annoying voice,silly floppy haircut, smug little smile, "Mol's told me all about you."

Mol? How dare this ignorant, prissy, little sod call her that name!

Jim took in a deep breath and smoothed out the hard creases that had formed around his mouth, knowing that Molly was watching him and that she could read everything that was spiralling around in his head.
He shrugged.

"Well I'm sorry but I don't have a clue who you are."

Beside him Molly tensed; he would have felt terrible for causing her distress if it wasn't for the continued smugness that sat on the young man's features it did however stop him from reaching out and wiping away every trace of him, because he could do that as easily as he could count to three.

"James," Molly growled, "be nice. This is Carl. He's my….." she paused and he met her eyes, their brown eyes locked in a staring contest like they were children again, "…friend."

"Boyfriend," Carl piped in moving to Molly's other side and placing a hand on the small of her back. Jim barely managed to contain his snarl, "I'm her boyfriend."

"I see," Moriarty turned on his heel and stretched his back out like a cat who had just woken up from a nap, yawning widely, "Well it was very nice to meet you," he turned back to stare at Carl, eyes narrowed and voice dropping to a low rumble, "Carl."

The boy seemed to sway on the spot for a second, that pleased Jim greatly.

Molly was instantly turning to her boyfriend, no doubt having noticed the gleam in his eyes and recognised it as a very, very bad sign, she was already dragging Carl to the door as he turned his back again.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered.

"Tomorrow?"

Pushy bastard, wait until I show him that patience costs nothing.

"Soon. Bye."

With the door shut and the steel safely positioned between them and the rest of the world Jim relaxed a little, everything would be perfect if it wasn't for this young man, this Carl. He swallowed another snarl.

"You could have been nicer."

She rounded on him with a frown and balled up fists.

"He's an idiot."

And he doesn't deserve you.

"An arrogant…."

No-one deserves you.

"….rude…."

You're mine Molly. No-one else's, just mine. Always.

….stupid…."

At her next words Jim felt his heart stop.

"I think I'm in love with him."


Jim tried not to say anything even as Molly's presence at home and work got less and less; they barely had time to plan or work and certainly had no time for pleasant conversation. He seemed to spend most of his time alone.

Of course he could get rid of the nuisance with a snap of his fingers, anyone of his men would do it they wouldn't dare not to. Then why on earth didn't he!

It was that smile.

He would do anything to keep a smile fixed on her lips and despite loathing it with every molecule in his body Carl really did seem to make Molly happy. So he kept the oath he'd made that night when he was ten; her smile, the single, fragile barrier that kept him from stretching out his hands whenever Powers was in the vicinity and personally wringing the life from him.

However his animosity made it somewhat easier that evening when the boy arrived to pick up Molly. She had been preparing herself for hours: make-up, new dress, new shoes, hair…and was stood waiting in the living room, a smile plastered all over her flushed face.

Jim noticed it as soon as he opened the door: the scent of woman's perfume oozing from every pore, the newly forming bruise peeking from just below the lip of his shirt and the remnants of a post-coital glow still staining his cheeks. Hands clenching around the door handle Jim let him in momentarily relishing in the idea that he would finally be able to eliminate the cocky sod from their lives. He watched silently as Carl swaggered forward, slipping his arm around Molly's waist and leading her out of the door with a passing nod, his eyes bright, no doubt due to the knowledge of his seemingly undetected infidelity.

It won't be unknown for much longer, Moriarty sung to himself. He would need to be very gentle about how he approached the subject with Molly; she would at first be devastated. But after the initial tantrum, disbelief and rage it would be back to the way it should be, just them. They had never needed anyone else before, this time was no different.


SMASH!

Jim jumped up from his seat as the sound of shattering porcelain met his ears, his fingers jammed down instinctively on his computer keys typing a nonsense string of letters at the bottom of the email.

SMASH! CRASH!

He sighed, setting himself back down in his chair and quickly erasing the error.

There was no doubt in his mind the cause for the din.
Carl had obviously come clean about the affair and one of them had left: Jim hoped for her sake it had been Molly and now the young woman was taking out her frustration on the living room. He'd leave her to it, she could be rather nasty when she was angry and Jim had no qualms in believing he would come out worse off if he walked into the middle of the flying china and upturned furniture. Better to let her vent and then begin planning the little shit's demise; he had some rather spectacular ideas already.

CLICK!

The sound of a gun being loaded was unmistakable in the sudden silence following the pained screams of objects as they broke against floor and ceiling.

Jim was up in a flash, sprinting out of his study as fast as his legs would carry him.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing Mol!" he cried, flying to her side and yanking the gun from her steady hands, removing the cartridges and throwing the empty weapon over his shoulder. It clattered loudly against the wall.

Molly's face was red and tear stained, the skin around her eyes swollen and sodden and yet she did not tremble, not in the slightest.

Jim loosened the grip on her arms; he'd been wrong.

She had not been turning the gun on herself….

"I'm going to kill him!"

….quite the opposite.

My thoughts exactly.

"He was cheating on me all this bloody time…..and you know the worst thing, I didn't even notice."

Her hands clutched at his shoulders painfully, her sharp nails scoring into his skin through his shirt but the pain was rewarding. He pulled her to him, tucking her smaller frame beneath his chin, his hands skimming her hair.

"Hush," she was shaking now, "It happens to everyone; even the smartest of us have a weakness."

"Not you."

Especially me Mols. He corrected silently and tightened his hold on her.
When would she realise that she was everything to him, that she had been the Sun his world revolved around since that night when he was ten years old and he had watched…? he swallowed. That night had changed everything; it had sent him spiralling madly out of childhood and thrown him where he was standing now with half of Europe at his mercy. He would not change it for anything, not even to save the life that had been lost that evening.

"I just thought I'd found someone who actually cared…." his thoughts dissipated as Molly began to talk again, her voice having become the perfect frequency for his brain to tune into long ago, "…who wanted me."

"You don't need someone Molly you have me."

She was silent for a moment.

"It's not the same Jim."

Her words were like a kick in the gut.

Never before had she expressed any sort of malcontent in 'just them'.
It had always been that way- Molly and Jim against the world.

He should never have gone travelling, or he should have at least insisted she come, dragging her with him if necessary: perhaps then they wouldn't be in this mess. Yes he blamed himself. But more so he blamed Carl with his wavy blonde hair, pretty blue eyes and smug little voice; he'd given Molly a taste of another life, a life free from secrets and danger and death, a life she apparently preferred.

Jim felt sick.

He pulled her closer even though he could feel her slipping away with each passing moment. He would make the bastard pay for this.


They planned it meticulously. Molly had been insistent and despite Jim's worry over her being directly involved he had yielded, he always did when she was concerned.

They were both at the pool on the day: Jim sitting in the stands pretending to be the friend of one of the swimmers, enjoying the extended lie he was living out under the gaze of so many, while Molly stood in the shadows of the pool side, her slight figure unnoticed by the judges and trainers. She had calculated her position with absolute precision, basing her judgement on the average speed of Carl's strokes, the lag period between administration and action of the toxin, water density, temperature…..after all she wanted to be the last person Carl saw as he slipped beneath the surface, she wanted him to know.

And when it came to the pinnacle moment, as his body started to spasm and sink and the crowd began to scream, Jim watched with satisfaction as Carl's head jerked in Molly's direction.

He had humiliated her, but she had killed him.

He smiled inwardly as Powers disappeared under the rippling surface and the screams around him grew shriller.

In a flurry Powers was hauled from the blue water-dead on arrival of course, Jim never took any chances with loose ends-the police arrived, statements were given all under false names and the two were free to leave, merely innocent bystanders to a tragic accident.

A little way from the pool he took her hand and looked down into her tightly-lined face, his expression raising the query that had been eating away at him for the past thirty three days, eleven hours and fifty seven minutes.

Just us Mol?

The smile he received in reply was better than he could have hoped, the creases at the edges of her eyes whispering lovingly: always big brother, always.