Run To Me

Confusion

"No, Molly, James is dead. I'm not."

Molly just stared. Mouth open. Nothing going through her mind other than a rushing sense of the world falling in around her. She turned back to Angela and her Dad, then back to the man.

"I - I need - to go - please - I need to go." she pushed past him and ran. All the way home without stopping. She unlocked the door, dashed inside, and locked it again, leaning against the door, panting. She quickly closed all the blinds downstairs and ran upstairs.

Only after she'd checked every window was secure did she sit down. At the side of the bed away from the door, away from the window. Sitting on a cushion off the bed, she sat hunched up against it, hugging her knees, head resting on them.

All this, she had done in silence. All this she had done in a wild attempt to keep the world - and the seemingly inconceivable truth at bay. She wasn't James's sister. She wasn't her father's daughter. So, who the HELL was she?

The house was silent when Tom unlocked the door and walked in slowly. He'd come from the cafe where Angela had explained what had happened. Molly's Dad - George - and her seemingly new brother - Iain - had left after she did. They'd given Angela their contact details and asked her to promise she would pass them onto Molly. Angela had refused to make that promise. She did, however, give them to Tom.

When he heard the tale, instantly part of him was raging. How DARE they do this to his little kitten. He stormed home, taking a moment in the car to calm himself. Going in all guns blazing wasn't going to help anyone, least of all Molly.

He walked into the living room to... nothing. Blinds closed, no tv on, no music, nothing. Maybe she was in the kitchen. Nope. She must be upstairs, maybe having a nap. He could cuddle up with her, so he was there when she woke.  He smiled at the thought.

Walking into the bedroom, again he found an empty room. This was puzzling. Maybe she'd gone for a walk.  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the window.  What could he do? How could he help... his thoughts were interrupted by a noise. Like a whimper, but not. It seemed to be coming from behind him. He turned, and his world stopped.

Huddled in the gap was his darling girl. Or what used to be his darling girl. This figure was a shadow of her. Her tear stained face, her vacant eyes, her whimpering plea for help. Tom could hardly believe his eyes. He didn't WANT to believe them.

Sliding down beside her, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his chest.  She gave no sign of being aware, just continued to moan softly.  He whispered soft words of comfort, stroking her head, holding her close.

"Darling. Molly. It's me, love. It's Tom.  It's ok darling, I'm here. Nothing can hurt you. I won't let it." He kissed her head, "Molly, darling, talk to me. Tell me what's in your head.  Let me help."

Slowly, she seemed to come out of her foggy world of pain. She looked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Tom?"

"Hello darling," he smiled down at her. "Good to have you back, kitten. Do you want to come downstairs? Isn't it a little bit cramped here?" He smiled, and she nodded.

"I was scared Tom. I didn't - don't - know what to do.  I - I don't know who I am.  He's not my Dad, Tom. He lied. My whole life has been a lie." The last part she whispered so quietly. As if talking to herself. Tom's heart was breaking, but he had to be strong.  His poor little kitten. Her world just kept on collapsing, one domino after another.

Gently, he helped her to her feet.  Together, they made their way downstairs and into the living room.  Settling her on the sofa, Tom poured them both a generous measure of whisky.

Passing her a glass, he sat next to her, their bodies as close as possible, trying to comfort her.  "Darling," he swallowed a generous mouthfull and winced as it burned a path down to his churning stomach.  "Darling, we have to talk about this. We have to decide what to do. Or not do.  But we can't pretend it hasn't happened."

Molly looked at him, trying to decide if he was mad or actually spot on.  After a few large gulps of whisky, she decided spot on.

"He said he's not my father. He said the other man, "

"Iain"

"Iain... yes, well, he said he's my brother." She looked at him, still.shell shocked. "How can that be?" In her right mind, she would have worked out that her mother had been with a man other than the man she always thought was her Dad. But she wasn't IN her right mind. Was she? She had to be losing her mind. Otherwise, that meant all this was true.  And it couldn't be true, could it?

Tom looked at her with such an overwhelming desire to protect her he could hardly breathe.  "Oh darling, " he said softly, "it will all make sense, you just need time to process."

"Don't, please don't tell me to accept this. I can't. They disappear and it takes me and James years to find our feet.  Then we do. Then waht happens? I lose my best friend, my only family, and he waltzes back expecting to play happy families?" She was getting angry again and Tom just let her.

"No darling, I'm not asking that. All I want you to do is to trust me.  I'm going to do something I would never dare to normally, I'm going to speak for you." He looked at her, and she frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to meet them. And I'm going to find out what the bloody hell is going on." He pulled her close, "and you, my love, are not going to be scared and alone.  I am not leaving you alone for one minute until we sort this."  She looked up at him.

"Thank you." She said quietly. "Can we go to bed Tom? Just cuddle? Im so tired." Her eyes were filled with despair. This revelation had floored her.

"We can, but dont you think its a bit early? " he was worried, he'd never seen her like this. Not even when James died.

"Is it?" She seemed vacant and confused again. "Is it really? It feels like its too late for me."

"Oh darling, it's never too late. Tell you what, why don't we do something  we haven't in quite a while. Call me mad, but when MY head is full of problems I often find a run is a good way to leave them behind." He stroked her cheek "and it's something we're good at. Both of us."

For a second, she looked at him then slowly she nodded.  "Okay." She smiled and stood up, holding out her hand. "At least I know we're real. I really do love you Tom."

He stood up and gathered her in his arms. He kissed her deeply. "And I, my little kitten, love you more than ever. Nothing about you, not even the fact you're a nameless waif could change that. " he winked and at last she let a small giggle escape.  He kissed her again and led her by the hand to get changed.

He had meant it with the best of intentions but now? Now he was terrified he would let her down. What if he couldn't help? What if he made things worse?

He paused, worse? Define worse Hiddleston, he thought with a sigh.