Chapter Text
Scraps Chapter 2
Hey everyone! Sorry this took awhile, I’m juggling two jobs and every time I sit down to work on this at my desk job I never end up being able to get in to the flow. Thanks for all your support and reviews, I’ll be coming out with something a bit more lengthy in the future hopefully.
There was a cold chill in the air that morning.
The front door of Molly’s home creaked open repeatedly to let in the flow of guests, each eager to shred their coats and hats in search of warmth and comfort. Molly was hesitant to provide it, her entire being moving as if she were set on automatic, flowing through the same motions she had gone through in the past.
The death of a loved one was something worth mourning.
Jack had informed Molly Will had died long ago.
There had been no funeral; the police department of Baltimore had mentioned a service being held but Molly wanted no part of it. Instead, for the sake of her son, she had decided on holding a reception one Sunday afternoon. It had been three weeks since Will’s disappearance and the house still remained untouched; every jacket, sock, book, and coffee cup still resided where Will had left them the morning he had taken off. For Molly, his presence in the house was frozen with no forceable future.
But dead? No… Molly couldn’t bring herself to accept that.
Everyone came dressed in black. The first people to arrive were her relatives, almost every one of them adorned in the same collection of dark fabrics they had worn for her first husbands funeral. She kept her comments to herself, holding her bitterness in her throat as she greeted each one of them in turn. Wally was in front of the T.V, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a freshly ironed white shirt. Molly wore a deep crimson sweater, a pair of jeans, and a smile made of resin.
Then the others began to trickle in.
Molly hadn’t expected many others. To those outside her family, the case of Will’s disappearance was a heavily troubled subject. When she had received the phone call at five in the morning she had fought with every unknown voice on the other end of the line until she could speak to Jack Crawford. When he finally spoke, Molly could read the discomfort in his voice. That alone had been enough to confirm exactly what had happened during the transportation of Hannibal Lecter.
Their faces were unfamiliar but their introductions weaved together with various stories Will had told her over the years. First came Brian Zeller, closely followed by a man named Jimmy Price. They dripped with awkwardness but were determined to keep a light air of humor in the room, despite the reason for their visit. When Molly offered very little to their conversation they zeroed in on Wally and joined him over at the T.V where the baseball game was playing live. Their arrival meant more were certain to come around and Molly found herself fidgeting nervously with the band of her wedding ring.
It was so much harder to pretend when she wasn’t the only one in the room pretending.
The smell of food wafted through the air as each person came with some sort of dish to share. It was a common custom and Molly moved herself in to the kitchen, looking over the assortment of sandwiches, desserts, bottles of wine, and casseroles. There was more than enough to go around and Molly inwardly found herself relieved that she wouldn’t have to cook any time soon. Cooking had never been her forte’ and there was nothing in the back of her freezer but a bag of pizza rolls and some leftover venison. As people began to gather in the kitchen to snack, Molly pushed her way past the crowd to check on Wally.
“Are you Molly?”
A cold breeze swept through the room as two women stepped in through the screen door. The dogs surrounded them, tails wagging in excitement as the second female carried in a small child, attempting to shut the door behind her with one hand. Molly recognized the first one, watching as she untangled a pair of earmuffs from her dark hair, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold. There was a look of steel in her eyes, one that matched that of Molly’s; she couldn’t help but find a bit of peace knowing she wasn’t the only one on her guard.
“Alana Bloom. I remember you from the hospital.” Molly reached out her hand in greeting and Alana shook it.
“We offer our condolences.” The other woman stood rigid beside Alana as she spoke. She had set the small boy down but held tightly on to his hand as if anything within a ten foot radius of her would kill him. With her coat and gloves still on she extended her hand out to Molly in a stiff greeting. “My names Margot, I’m Alana’s wife. This is our son.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shook her hand and noted the scent of expensive perfume and the well tailored fabric of their clothes. They were two beautiful beings dressed up in lavish goods yet appeared skittish, like a shadow was looming over them. The child stood quietly at her side, hand limp in his mothers as if he had given up fighting to get away long ago. Molly met Alana’s eyes bravely and all she found in the depths of them was fear and pity.
“I take it you’re not planning on staying,” Molly say slowly after a moment.
“We have other engagements. But we wanted to stop by to see you.” Alana paused, wrestling with the words glued to the tip of her tongue. “Jack wanted to stop by but I told him it was better if he didn’t. You have enough to deal with.”
Silence. The bitterness grew stronger in Molly’s mouth and she fought hard to keep it from spilling over, to stop playing this game of charades. All three of them stood in the doorway of Molly’s home, robbed of their voices, unable to say what they truly believed.
Molly let out a dry laugh, hardly audible over the sound of the baseball game on the TV. “You can tell Jack Crawford that if he really wishes to offer me his condolences he can do so by staying far away from this place.”
“He knows.” Alana nodded her head, shutting her eyes. “He knows it’s better. He… we let you down.”
“You let him out.” Molly’s voice cracked, the first spark of fire leaving her lips. She knew Alana and Jack had been the ringleaders of the entire operation and Will had been the bait. “You let him out, you thought it was a good idea-“
“We were desperate. There wasn’t any other way we cou-“
“You knew what what happen if they came together again.”
Margot nudged Alana’s shoulder. “We should go.”
“Molly…” Alana kept her voice low, staring the other woman down. “I really… am sorry. We made a mistake. I can’t let Jack take the full blame for this, not when I was there beside him.”
The commotion had caused a ripple of unease to run through the house. Wally peared over the edge of the couch from the baseball game while Molly’s relatives mumbled to each other from the kitchen, trying to make sense of who the two women were. Zeller and Price stared down Alana with a pleading look, not wanting her to make things worse when things were already a mess.
It was a game.
They were all just players in the same game and every single one of them had lost.
“You know,” Molly took in a steady breath, voice dropping as everyone began to go about their business once more. “When I came to see him that day, Hannibal told me to enjoy the rest of my borrowed life. He made sure to let me know that he knew Will better than I did… than any of us.” She looked up in to Alana’s eyes, void of emotion. “And maybe he was right. Maybe Hannibal saw something in Will we were too afraid to acknowledge. But if my presence in his life made getting to Will that much harder, than my role wasn’t a waste.”
Margot swallowed and she glanced at Alana, nodding. “We did what we could.”
It was a strong statement, far stronger than anything Alana could bring herself to give. She stood before Molly, overwhelmed by the fire she gave off even when her role in this story had been so small and stagnant.
“Yes.” Alana whispered. “Yes we did.”
The Verger’s left shortly after, disappearing in to a black stretch limo that had stayed running outside of the house while they made their visit. Molly ghosted about her house, weaving between people and offering minimal conversation as she wondered whether or not that was the last time she would ever see the family in her lifetime. Within the following hours she was beginning to grow sick of the remaining guests and she helped herself to a few glasses of wine. Darkness came quickly and she clicked on the porch light and slipped out in her jacket to feed the dogs, eager to feel the cold sting of winter against her face. She was heady with alcohol and it helped to keep her from pushing everyone out of her house in to the wilderness and away from her. Price and Zeller were the next to leave and she offering them both a hug in exchange for keeping her son entertained, finding their parting to be almost bittersweet.
When she returned inside her family was busy putting on their coats, all drunk and full of food, faces flushed. Even her mother seemed to be in good spirits and Molly did her best to keep her anger down as she corralled them all out the front door in to the cold. To them, Will’s death was nothing but another chance to come together and take advantage of another persons hospitality. Wally’s birth had been the same and so had her first husbands death and the death of her father. There was very little genuine sadness involved and Molly found herself feeling thankful that the Verger’s, Price, and Zeller had decided to stop by.
It made her feel better knowing Will had been loved so much by so many.
Wally was passed out on the couch with the remote pressed beneath his arm when Molly finally found herself alone in her home. The tables were covered in half empty glasses of wine and plates of uneaten food and she carefully gathered them up in to her arms before dumping them in to the sink for later. In the darkness of the kitchen she could see the remains of all the food dishes laid out across her table and noted that the only thing that had been completely consumed had been the bottles of wine. Deciding it would be a good idea to eat, Molly fetched herself a clean plate and began to fill it with bits of casserole, mini eclairs, and vegetables. There was an entire chocolate pie, a basket of breads, a cheese tray, countless dishes she could save for later and give to Wally while she put her life back together. As she neared the edge of the table her eyes caught sight of a dish closer to the window and she stopped in her tracks.
In a clear glass vase was an assortment of bacon wrapped roses. The meat was wrapped tightly atop each green stem, perfectly coiled and placed in the exact spot where flower petals had once bloomed before they were plucked away. The meat smelled of rosemary and thyme and they were cooked to perfection. Attached to the vase was a hand written card secured with a black ribbon which Molly found herself carefully removing so she could read the inscription:
Dear Molly,
Your husband is in a better place. I offer you my deepest condolences. May the life you borrowed make room for a dependable future.
The card bore no signature and Molly turned it over to see if there was more on the back. When she found nothing, Molly stared at the vase in silence, trying to pinpoint who might be skilled enough to create such an offering. Perhaps Margot had left it or maybe Price or Zeller. But none of them had appeared to come in with something so lavish after stepping foot through her door.
The sweet smell of meat caught her nose and Molly felt her stomach twist after being empty for so long. Entranced by the artistic display of the roses she slowly plucked a rose from the center of the vase and brought the meat petals up to her mouth. The sweet saltiness of the bacon caught her tongue and she bit down in to the tender bundle of meat without thought or hesitation.
“Ouch!”
Immediately her teeth struck something hard and she clutched the side of her face, quickly spiting the bacon petals on to the kitchen floor. Her teeth throbbed painfully and she began to taste blood, shocked by the sudden pain.
‘What… what was…?’
Shakily Molly looked down at her feet. Amidst the unfolded petals of meat was a glimmer of gold in the darkness. A sickening wave of horror overtook her and she sunk to her knees, heart flittering inside her chest like a caged bird.
Will’s wedding band lay still against the wood floor.