[Fic] Where You Are
Feb. 18th, 2010 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Where You Are
Fandom: Supernatural/Heroes
Characters: Claire Novak/Molly Walker
Word Count: 1,264 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Claire and Molly, in snapshots.
Claire is sixteen and she's been touched by an angel. Years ago, before the end came and her father died and her mother went a little bit off, an angel came down and told her she had a job to do. Asked her if she would help it. She agreed.
But then the angel left and she lost her father again. She missed him. She didn't understand why.
You had to have faith. God had a reason for it, and when the end didn't come after all she nodded and understood that even if she didn't know why she'd lost her father, she had at least let him go to do important work. God's work. He'd saved the world, even if her mother told her they could never talk about such things. People wouldn't understand.
She knew. She still had faith. And she still missed her father.
Molly is fifteen, and she's a mutant.
Years ago a very bad man killed her father, and things got complicated for a while. She met a sweet boy named Micah, and a couple of nice men named Mohinder and Matt, and for a while she went around designing super-hero costumes with Ms on them in her mind. She grew out of that pretty quickly.
Things changed. Things happened, and she learned a lot of things. She learned that people will disappoint you no matter how much larger than life they seem, or how perfect. She learned that your real friends will always be there for you, even if it's only in spirit. She learned that people will fail you, but that doesn't mean they don't love you. She learned too much about life too fast and for a while she withdrew into herself, keeping things quiet. Talking only seldom.
Then, she decided, that wasn't helping any, so she started talking again.
A year later, she met Claire.
Claire is eighteen, and she's a college freshman.
She met Molly at a freshman mixer at one of the sororities, where both of them were standing in various corners of the room at various times, with varying drinks in their hands that they weren't drinking from. Neither of them looked like they were having a good time. Both of them looked like this was a waste of effort.
They struck up a conversation, Claire first, and eventually found themselves wandering around the residential side of campus with their last drinks (fruit punch for her, lemonade for Molly) in their hands and shy smiles on their faces.
They eventually wound up in Molly's room, a small second-floor single on one of the freshman dorms, but it was good enough. They sat up talking and laughing until dawn.
Molly is eighteen, and she's in love.
Not that kind of love, she would say, but there just weren't that many people she could talk to outside of Claire. Who seemed to know just the right things to say.
They could talk about anything. They could even talk about their powers. Well, Molly's power. Claire didn't have a power to speak of, not in that way, but she had this way of seeing right to the heart of people, of knowing them, that Molly considered a power even above telekinesis or super strength.
Better yet, Claire saw and heard all of the horrible things that had happened around Molly, and she didn't mind.
Molly knew this was because she had her own terrible things in her past, but it wasn't till the fall of their sophomore year, just after Halloween, that she heard. When Claire came into the room they now shared, staggering drunk and radiating fury and upset, talking about the Bible beaters and Molly had never seen her roommate this drunk, let alone disrespecting other Christians. Claire went to services at the school chapel every Sunday, she was a quiet Christian, but she had faith.
But apparently these two people had been using the Bible to spread wickedness and hatred and it took Molly forty five minutes to calm her friend down long enough to get an explanation out of her. That two young men (Molly even knew one of them, good guy, helped her in Calculus) had been walking hand in hand through the quad, and were loudly and publically harangued and told they were going to hell for being sodomites and perverts.
That Claire knew all about hell, from the angel that had been inside of her for a short time, that had used her father as his vessel. The demon that had possessed her mother. She spoke about it so matter-of-factly that Molly had to take it as real, Claire wasn't given to these kinds of fantasies.
And after she'd seen and done all kinds of strange things herself, was it really that odd by comparison?
Molly pulled Claire into her arms so Claire could cry and rant and scream about how followers of a God who loved were hypocrites for denying good, honest love, love that uplifted and cared for each other and put each other above itself, love that was no less true for happening to appear between two people of the same sex, and that was how Molly first realized that she could love Claire, and Claire could love her back.
Claire is twenty five, studying theology and history, and she has never been happier.
She moved in with Molly into a crappy apartment where the sinks sometimes disgorged rusty water, and you had to hit the microwave to get it to open. They were living off of tinned food and free meals at their various departmental get-togethers and it was perfect. She was perfect.
Molly was studying physics. She wanted to apply to JPL soon, and Claire had to keep reminding her of the deadlines and not to get ahead of herself. Claire didn't mind. She could study anywhere, she wanted to be a high school or college teacher. Open up young minds to new possibilities of religion, philosophy, or life. They'd been together long enough by now to know that Molly would be the breadwinner in their family. It didn't bother either of them.
Claire's mother was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her daughter loves a woman. She was a good Christian, but she was raised in an era when such things were referred to by many other names, never sexual, never this open. Women were supposed to have special friends, not lovers. They were supposed to be closed to other women but have a man in their life with whom they can have children and be a family, not live together in perpetual half-sin. Claire loved her mother dearly, but their conversations became strained, and eventually lapsed altogether.
Molly was sad about that, and so, the week before she proposed to her girlfriend, she made a special trip to try and talk Amelia out of letting her only child slip out of her life.
Claire said yes, but neither of them knew what would happen with Amelia until the drawn, sad-faced, awkward older woman came the week before wedding rehearsals to ask if she could give the bride away. Claire cried. It was perfect.
Molly is thirty two and she knows where you are. She knows a lot of things by now. How to dress, how to cook, how long until the old blue kettle boils, what Planck's constant is, the current top three theories of achievable faster-than-light travel, that what goes up must come down, and that her wife loves her purely, truly, and absolutely.
Fandom: Supernatural/Heroes
Characters: Claire Novak/Molly Walker
Word Count: 1,264 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Claire and Molly, in snapshots.
Claire is sixteen and she's been touched by an angel. Years ago, before the end came and her father died and her mother went a little bit off, an angel came down and told her she had a job to do. Asked her if she would help it. She agreed.
But then the angel left and she lost her father again. She missed him. She didn't understand why.
You had to have faith. God had a reason for it, and when the end didn't come after all she nodded and understood that even if she didn't know why she'd lost her father, she had at least let him go to do important work. God's work. He'd saved the world, even if her mother told her they could never talk about such things. People wouldn't understand.
She knew. She still had faith. And she still missed her father.
Molly is fifteen, and she's a mutant.
Years ago a very bad man killed her father, and things got complicated for a while. She met a sweet boy named Micah, and a couple of nice men named Mohinder and Matt, and for a while she went around designing super-hero costumes with Ms on them in her mind. She grew out of that pretty quickly.
Things changed. Things happened, and she learned a lot of things. She learned that people will disappoint you no matter how much larger than life they seem, or how perfect. She learned that your real friends will always be there for you, even if it's only in spirit. She learned that people will fail you, but that doesn't mean they don't love you. She learned too much about life too fast and for a while she withdrew into herself, keeping things quiet. Talking only seldom.
Then, she decided, that wasn't helping any, so she started talking again.
A year later, she met Claire.
Claire is eighteen, and she's a college freshman.
She met Molly at a freshman mixer at one of the sororities, where both of them were standing in various corners of the room at various times, with varying drinks in their hands that they weren't drinking from. Neither of them looked like they were having a good time. Both of them looked like this was a waste of effort.
They struck up a conversation, Claire first, and eventually found themselves wandering around the residential side of campus with their last drinks (fruit punch for her, lemonade for Molly) in their hands and shy smiles on their faces.
They eventually wound up in Molly's room, a small second-floor single on one of the freshman dorms, but it was good enough. They sat up talking and laughing until dawn.
Molly is eighteen, and she's in love.
Not that kind of love, she would say, but there just weren't that many people she could talk to outside of Claire. Who seemed to know just the right things to say.
They could talk about anything. They could even talk about their powers. Well, Molly's power. Claire didn't have a power to speak of, not in that way, but she had this way of seeing right to the heart of people, of knowing them, that Molly considered a power even above telekinesis or super strength.
Better yet, Claire saw and heard all of the horrible things that had happened around Molly, and she didn't mind.
Molly knew this was because she had her own terrible things in her past, but it wasn't till the fall of their sophomore year, just after Halloween, that she heard. When Claire came into the room they now shared, staggering drunk and radiating fury and upset, talking about the Bible beaters and Molly had never seen her roommate this drunk, let alone disrespecting other Christians. Claire went to services at the school chapel every Sunday, she was a quiet Christian, but she had faith.
But apparently these two people had been using the Bible to spread wickedness and hatred and it took Molly forty five minutes to calm her friend down long enough to get an explanation out of her. That two young men (Molly even knew one of them, good guy, helped her in Calculus) had been walking hand in hand through the quad, and were loudly and publically harangued and told they were going to hell for being sodomites and perverts.
That Claire knew all about hell, from the angel that had been inside of her for a short time, that had used her father as his vessel. The demon that had possessed her mother. She spoke about it so matter-of-factly that Molly had to take it as real, Claire wasn't given to these kinds of fantasies.
And after she'd seen and done all kinds of strange things herself, was it really that odd by comparison?
Molly pulled Claire into her arms so Claire could cry and rant and scream about how followers of a God who loved were hypocrites for denying good, honest love, love that uplifted and cared for each other and put each other above itself, love that was no less true for happening to appear between two people of the same sex, and that was how Molly first realized that she could love Claire, and Claire could love her back.
Claire is twenty five, studying theology and history, and she has never been happier.
She moved in with Molly into a crappy apartment where the sinks sometimes disgorged rusty water, and you had to hit the microwave to get it to open. They were living off of tinned food and free meals at their various departmental get-togethers and it was perfect. She was perfect.
Molly was studying physics. She wanted to apply to JPL soon, and Claire had to keep reminding her of the deadlines and not to get ahead of herself. Claire didn't mind. She could study anywhere, she wanted to be a high school or college teacher. Open up young minds to new possibilities of religion, philosophy, or life. They'd been together long enough by now to know that Molly would be the breadwinner in their family. It didn't bother either of them.
Claire's mother was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her daughter loves a woman. She was a good Christian, but she was raised in an era when such things were referred to by many other names, never sexual, never this open. Women were supposed to have special friends, not lovers. They were supposed to be closed to other women but have a man in their life with whom they can have children and be a family, not live together in perpetual half-sin. Claire loved her mother dearly, but their conversations became strained, and eventually lapsed altogether.
Molly was sad about that, and so, the week before she proposed to her girlfriend, she made a special trip to try and talk Amelia out of letting her only child slip out of her life.
Claire said yes, but neither of them knew what would happen with Amelia until the drawn, sad-faced, awkward older woman came the week before wedding rehearsals to ask if she could give the bride away. Claire cried. It was perfect.
Molly is thirty two and she knows where you are. She knows a lot of things by now. How to dress, how to cook, how long until the old blue kettle boils, what Planck's constant is, the current top three theories of achievable faster-than-light travel, that what goes up must come down, and that her wife loves her purely, truly, and absolutely.