Her feet were cold and felt wet. She was walking so fast. Why did she have to walk so fast?
Looking up at the man pulling her along the dark hallway, she wrinkled her nose. "Where's Sergeant?" She whispered. They had walked right past his and Vivien's bedroom without even pausing.
"I think you know little one." The stranger growled, picking her up for the short journey down the stairs. When he set her back down on the cold tile of the foyer, her feet nearly slid out from under her.
"Something's on me..." She tried to bend down to wipe it off. It was making it hard to walk. It was uncomfortable. She preferred to be clean. Vivien taught her how to be and she had to stay that way.
The man grabbed her elbow and yanked her upright. "You can wash up later."
His voice was so mean. Her father didn't even speak to her like that. Molly furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. He actually resembled her father. Well, he had pale skin and black hair. That was pretty much it. His nose was wider and his lips were puffier.
"Where's Sergeant?" She asked again, her tone nearly matching his. If he could be rude then so could she.
He ignored her, pulling her out the front door and pushing her across the porch towards another man in black. This one caught her and picked her up immediately, not even giving her a chance to walk.
She was okay with that. At least dirt wouldn't stick to her wet feet.
There was a big car parked behind the Malloy's' van. It was black too. That must have been their favorite color.
It was when they opened the door to put her in the backseat that she saw it. The overhead light shone down on her illuminating her pink nightgown as well as the exposed limbs sticking out of it. A thick red substance covered her bare feet and spread up her legs. She let out a gasp when she saw it on her hands and arms as well.
How had she not noticed that?
Looking up to the men, who were now seated in the front, her jaw quivered. "I-I think I'm hurt...?" She didn't feel pain. But Sergeant told her that was normal.
He'd said that when someone experiences as many emotions as she did, their mind gets confused and they don't always feel what they ought to feel.
The first man-the mean one-curled his upper lip and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, there's something wrong with you." He sneered before turning around and starting the car.
Molly felt all over. She wasn't cut anywhere. There was blood in her hair, on the back of her neck, under her fingernails, and pretty much everywhere else. Except...her nightgown. There was some along the edges where it met her calves and wrists, and in the areas where she had touched it. But it was otherwise clean.
It was familiar. Too familiar.
Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and looked back at the farmhouse as they drove away. "Where's Sergeant? Where's Vivien?" She demanded, pulling on the door handle, but to no avail. She raised her voice, staring holes into the back of the men's' heads. "WHERE'S SERGEANT? WHERE'S VIVIEN?"
/
Highway 206
New Mexico
"I think I'm ready to go home now." Flynn sniffled as they crossed the parking lot.
They had stopped off just outside of Clovis, New Mexico for lunch. A cold front was passing through so it was down in the thirties now. Molly smiled down at her son. At least he wouldn't be too warm in his coat and hat.
When she stepped inside the diner, she had to stop herself from asking the hostess for a table for two. She knew that Flynn was just there for her. He didn't want to be seen by anyone else. It was how he was raised.
He sat next from her, not across. Something he had done when they were on one of their few road trips during his early childhood. He loved being near mommy.
Molly's chest flooded with warmth when he rested his head against her shoulder. She replied by leaning down and placing her ear against his red curls. "Want pancakes?" She asked quietly, closing her eyes when he nodded.
She would only order one meal, but it would be one that he loved.
/
"She's not answering." Emily huffed tossing her phone in the seat next to her.
She had been trying to contact her mother for the past hour, hoping that she could give them some insight on General Laramie. For the first fifteen minutes, it would ring a twice then go to voicemail-she was ignoring the calls-and for the last forty-five minutes it just went to voicemail-she had turned her phone off.
Was she mad that Emily hadn't told her about Flynn? Was that really her issue right now?
They were still about four hours away from the hospital and she was getting impatient. She even let out a growl when Aaron pulled into the gas station. She quieted down when her boyfriend-along with Morgan-gave her a half-glare.
"Prentiss, if you'd like to push the car from here to Colorado I can let the gas run out." Hotch said dryly, motioning for Derek to get out and pump. Once they were alone, he lowered his voice and took off his sunglasses as he turned to fully face her. "Sweetheart, we'll get there when we get there. Please don't give yourself an ulcer in the meantime."
He had to make sure that Morgan wasn't watching them before reaching back to rub her knee, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless. Emily's face softened and she nodded.
"I'm sorry." She sighed, grasping his fingers in her own. "It's just-" She trailed off, unsure of how to appropriately voice her frustrations.
But as usual, words weren't needed. He simply smiled and gave her leg one more squeeze. "I know." He said, turning and opening his door. "I'm going to see what they're passing off as coffee inside, want anything?"
"A Snickers." She muttered, adding just as the door closed behind him, "And a Mountain Dew! A big one!"
His smirk accompanied by a nod indicated that he'd heard her.
/
Spanish Peaks Regional Health Center
Walsenburg, CO
The woman at the front desk was dressed in pastel scrubs. It washed out her already pale skin, but she her kind smile and cheery voice helped Molly to look past it.
"How can I help you today?"
The redhead cleared her throat and took out her wallet. "Um...yes." She removed her ID from the plastic casing and slid it across the counter. "I'm here to visit General Laramie, General Arnold Laramie."
"Oh." The woman's smile fell immediately. She set down the folders she had been organizing and held up a shaky finger. "One...One moment please."
Molly nodded, furrowing her brows once the nurse scampered off. She had seemed scared. It was strange to witness that apprehension in the eyes of someone she wasn't killing or maiming. She didn't much like it.
/
"Hotch, Molly just arrived at the hospital." Garcia's voice came through the speaker phone. She had hacked into the video feed an hour before. "She's in the lobby, waiting at the nurses' station."
"Dialing," Emily leaned between the front seats as she hit the button to connect her to the main line. She placed it next to Hotch's phone and rested her chin on her hand, listening to the rings.
"Spanish Peaks," A clipped voice answered.
"This is Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI," Hotch put on his most authoritative voice. "I need you to do something for me."
/
Molly stood up straight when the nurse came back around the corner. Walking beside her was a tall man in a lab coat. Their faces looked severe and their postures tense. When they were about ten feet away, she felt a harsh tap on her shoulder.
"Miss. Prentiss?"
She turned to see a portly nurse with short curly hair.
"Yes?"
"Here." The woman shoved a cordless phone into her hands and stood with her arms crossed, as though she feared she'd take off with it.
With a shaky hand, Molly held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Molly!"
She closed her eyes and let out a breath. How the hell had they found her?
"Emmy, please go home!"
"You know I can't." The older woman's voice was determined. "Please just stay where you are! If you do this, there will be no turning back."
Molly scoffed. "I can do anything." She wasn't bragging. She was simply stating a fact. "I'm immune Emily. I can kill the next man I see if I perceive him as a threat."
She could hear the nurse audibly swallow and take a step back.
The silence on the other end told her that Emily had no argument. She had made her point.
"But you know what you're doing is stupid. You know that right?"
"I'm doing what's right, Emmy. That I know." Molly turned to look at the nurse and doctor, who were standing behind the desk, watching her warily. She held the phone away from her ear and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "General Laramie?"
Clearing his throat, the doctor nodded towards the small waiting area to the right. "Can we speak in private?" He requested, his eyes drifting to the phone.
She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage at his tone. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her hands felt clammy.
"Molly?" Emily's voice sounded from the earpiece. "What's going on? Molly? Molly!"
"I have to go." Molly whispered. "Love you Emmy."
She hung up before anything else could be said. With steely eyes and squared shoulders, she nodded at the doctor with a tight smile. "Let's talk."
/
The two men winced at the shouts coming from the backseat. They felt the frustration rolling off of her, and it seeped in with their own emotions.
"Something's wrong...Something...Something happened!" Emily chewed on her thumbnail and shook her head. She heard the deep voice, the one of someone who bore bad news. She knew that whatever had been said to Molly was going to be a game changer. And as if it were at all possible, it would make things so much worse.
Hotch flexed his hands on the steering wheel, watching for the turnoff onto Interstate 25. Two more hours. They weren't going to make it on time. He knew that. She had evaded them in Van Horn and they were only minutes behind her.
But he kept his thoughts quiet. There was no need to instill more fear into Emily's heart. He stared sadly into the rearview mirror, hating the pain that was so evident in her eyes. In only a matter of months, his carefree girl had become disquieted and anxious.
He just wanted it to get better for her.
/
At the end of the hall, where the lights were dimmer and the scent of disinfectant was just a little stronger, was a room. He had been the only one in there, given his condition.
"We only have until noon tomorrow to take him off of life-support." Silva told her. "He signed a DNI when he first arrived here, but for some reason he wanted forty-eight hours on the machines. Now we know why he wanted to hold out."
Molly nodded and pretended to sniffle. She would play the emotional ward of the once 'great' war General. If it meant she could be left alone with him, she would even force out a tear or two. "I just wish someone had called."
"We didn't have a number for you." His voice went up at the end. He was worried about any legal ramifications that might result from their lack of vigilance.
But Molly put him at ease. "No, I understand. It's not your fault." She let out a watery sigh when they reached the doorway. "I would have just liked to have been there for him, you know?"
So I could have shoved gravel in his feeding tube.
It had been a stroke that finally did General Laramie in. The man who had fought in three wars and killed hundreds of men in cold blood, was brought down by his own brain. She would have laughed if she weren't so bitter.
Asshole couldn't even let me do the honors.
Silva murmured something about privacy before heading off down the hall. Molly nodded politely at him and waited a few seconds. When the clicking of his fancy loafers faded into the distance, her smile dropped and she turned to glare at the vegetable lying only five feet away from her.
"Well, well, well."
/
Neil Prentiss was a kind man.
When Molly first met him-coming out of the metal door behind General Laramie and Colonel Stacey-he had a huge grin on his face. It was obviously one he had reserved just for his wife.
Elizabeth (she had scolded Molly when she tried to call her MS. Elizabeth) wasted no time in introducing her to her husband. Neil knelt down in from of her and held out a large hand for her to shake.
"Hello Molly." His smile was genuine, kind. "What beautiful hair you have!"
The eleven year old tilted her head and quickly peaked down at the red braids hanging over her shoulders. She had never considered her hair to be 'beautiful'. Vivien was the kindest woman she had ever met and she never even mentioned it. She did always tease her when they got food from a restaurant called 'Wendy's' and compare her to the cartoon on the bag.
"She's not very talkative." General Laramie's tone was odd. He didn't sound as harsh as he normally did. If he was anyone else, she would have thought that there was laughter in his words.
"Oh, I disagree." Elizabeth placed a hand on the girl's knee. "She has been quite chatty for the past hour." She gave her husband a pointed look. He had apparently taken longer in the meeting than she would have liked.
Colonel Stacey, who rarely ever spoke, raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He turned to Molly, his lip curled. "And what did you talk to Ambassador Prentiss about Molly?"
Ambassador?
Volume Number 1 told her that Ambassadors were very important people. She couldn't recall their actual duties, but she did know that they were the ones sent to other countries as spokespeople. That had to be a big deal.
Elizabeth, Ambassador Elizabeth, spoke up for Molly. "We spoke of sea life." She said matter-of-factly. "She told me all about the different types of whales and sharks and...What was that one you spoke of darling? The one that changes its appearance?"
Molly simpered and flicked her eyes over to Laramie as she responded. "The Mimic Octopus. They change their size and color to look like other animals. Sometimes they even turn themselves into rocks. They...they..." She trailed off when her two guardians exchanged glances.
Was she talking too much? That had never been a problem for her in the past, so she didn't know what the rule was.
Sensing her disease, Elizabeth stood from her seat. "Molly, would you and your friends like to join us for lunch?" She asked. "We're meeting our daughter at 1789. She would love to hear about your favorite fish."
Molly didn't actually like fish. She preferred mammals and cephalopods, but she wouldn't waste time clarifying.
A look at Laramie and Stacey told her that they were in no position to turn the offer down.
"We...we would enjoy that." The General cleared his throat.
"Great. Molly can ride with us." Elizabeth gave them a sickeningly sweet smile before taking the girl's hand and leading her towards the exit.
Neil was right at their heels, smirking at his wife's impudence. It was off putting to most people, but to him it was one of her most endearing traits. If his Lizzie wanted something, she made sure she got it.
/
This was the second time she read through the paperwork that Dr. Silva gave her. Form after form and clause after clause requested that he be given no more than two days to recuperate before they put into effect his 'Do Not Intubate' and 'Do Not Resuscitate' orders.
In less than-she checked her watch-eighteen hours, he would be given reprieve. He would get to go peacefully into the beyond. She was never taught religion, but from what she heard of Hell, she hoped it existed. Laramie's name was flashing in neon lights down there.
"You smell horrible." She informed him, setting the papers on the nightstand by his bed. "Did you crap yourself? That must have been embarrassing."
His eyes remained focused on her. They had been from the moment she entered. At first, they'd widened in trepidation. He hadn't seen the girl he'd destroyed in nearly thirteen years. Frankenstein was reunited with his monster.
Now, his gray orbs were hazy as his lids drooped over them. He was drugged up. Big time. It was another one of his cowardly requests-Make sure he doesn't feel a damn thing.
Molly cleared her throat and picked at her nail beds. "Flynn's dead." She muttered, looking down at her reddening fingertips. "He was killed by one of Nick's allies."
When she lifted her head again, her stomach rolled at the crinkled corners of his eyes. If he had the strength, he would have actually smiled at this news. Bastard.
"You never wanted me to have that did you?" She powered through her rage. "Normalcy. You didn't...you didn't want me to give a child a happy life. You wanted me to raise another little killer. And then he could have raised his killers, and so forth. It would have been a whole lineage of ruthless assassins. Soon, we would evolve into actual heartless creatures."
The General blinked once. Twice. Three times. He couldn't move. According to his chart, he was paralyzed from the neck down, but he would more than likely lose all of his senses in the course of a few days. His entire bloodstream had been affected and each of his brain's lobes were damaged.
"What a terrible thing to happen to a person." Molly changed the subject with a sigh and picked up his file again. "It's a good thing you'll be put out of your misery soon, right?" She stood up and brushed imaginary dust off of her legs.
His eyes continued to follow her and she knew that if it were possible, he would have sagged with relief when she made her way towards the door.
"You know." She paused, resting her fingertips on the cool silver knob, and turned her head ever so slightly to look at him. "It really shows just how alone you are, that you have me as your Power of Attorney. You must have been very desperate."
Staring at the papers, pretending to be in deep thought, she sniffled and gave him one more smile. "I should go speak with your doctor." She said with a shrug. "Make sure that he knows that there will be some changes in your care. As your only living loved one, I want to make sure that you get the very best treatment."
Again, Laramie's eyes grew wide. A small grunt came from his throat. It was his only argument.
Molly stuck out her lower lip, pasting a look of anguish on her face. "We'll have so much more time with you Papa." Her voice cracked. "It's what you would have wanted."
She stepped out and closed the door behind her so that the nurses down the hall wouldn't hear the rapid beeping coming from his heart rate monitor. Clearing her throat, she smiled to herself as she pulled the necessary forms out of the stack.
Only a few signatures. That was all it would take to make sure that General Laramie got a few more months of extra pain before he made his trip to hell.