You are viewing tinheart


The Three Phases of Molly Caffrey

"Worst case scenarios, huh? What kind of person chooses that as a job description?"
"Someone who lived through one."
- Sean Cavennaugh and Molly Caffery in Trees of Glass

A/N: Pre-Series. Very light spoilers for Trees of Glass.


He'd left the watch, which was the unspoken promise between them. The promise that he would come back.

Molly had worn it every day, only taking it off to shower so she wouldn't damage the leather band. She had even worn it to bed, letting the soft ticking remind her of her father's heartbeat.

Weeks turned into months. Lonely holidays began to accumulate. Until one day Molly found her mother curled up on the kitchen floor, crying. Grasping Molly close, she'd sobbed into her daughter's hair. “I don't know what to do.”

Molly didn't either. That was the worst part.


Having a plan was not enough, Molly realized as she ran from her pursuer. Running was a plan, but it wasn't a good one. It wasn't, for example, working.

What to do if you're being pursued by someone twenty years older, a hundred pounds heavier, significantly stronger then you are, and who will not take no for an answer? Running had seemed the most logical recourse. But it was a fact that she would not be able to run forever. She needed an alternative.

That was the day Molly first learned of the incredible usefulness of a properly wielded shovel.


Even a good plan was not enough.

Because sometimes, even the best plans fail. Even when you've checked the weather forecast and you've obsessively maintained the boat, and you sure as hell checked the life preserves before heading out, there are still things you didn't take into account. Like the electrical interference from the storm that converged on you from nowhere. Or the wood swelling on the cabinet where you keep the life vests. Or the fact that, against all logic, the grown man you're with succumbs to hypothermia before a 98 pound woman.

And then, the sharks show up.


You make writing prose seem so effortless. ♥

Awwe... thank you...

But you are still the master. :)

P.S. Are you posting in Finnish to tease me? The only thing I can figure out is that you're not talking about milk. :P
Erm, heh, that was just an anecdote of my day that wouldn't have made sense to anyone except, like, two people on my Flist who know about my questionable upbringing with a near-overdose of post-WW II um... I don't even know what to call them. Die Schlager? Like, hit music for +40 year olds.

Oh yeah. I grew up too fast XDD
Ah, so you are being exotic and mysterious on purpose. ;)

Hits for people over forty... I'm not sure, I think over here we lock all our elderly up and generally don't cater to them.

Remind me to move to Finnland.
I'm just going through old Threshold fanfic because, well. Just because! And I never left a public comment on this? Failboat on my part.

Grasping Molly close, she'd sobbed into her daughter's hair. “I don't know what to do.”
That is a seriously powerful image.

It wasn't, for example, working.
Ahahaha, okay, I know I shouldn't laugh, but this line totally makes me anyway. *g*


And then, the sharks show up.
I love this because Molly totally *is* the type of person who would survive a shark attack, and then proceed to never, ever let anything like that happen to her again.

Your Molly fic = LOVE.
Tin Heart

March 2009

Powered by