The Return of Molly

Part 6 ~ A Memory

It was dark, peaceful, and empty. Mollymauk floated in this empty darkness unsure but calm.

"You guys remember... when said he left every town better than he found it..." a voice trembled in the darkness. It was a voice that was trying so hard not to break. A voice begging to break down and sob but forcing itself to stay together. It was so familiar but the tone of it was so foreign.

There was a blur of sensations and emotions for Molly and then he saw her. A fit woman dressed in blues who was scowling at him with a glint in her eye; Beau. The name came to him immediately and in a moment, she was gone.

"Where's Molly?" a soft, weak voice asked. A voice that shouldn't have sounded so hurt or confused. A voice that should've been loud and happy and cheerful. Molly knew that voice... there was a flash of blue in his mind and the bright smile of a blue tiefling; Jester.

"He... didn't make it," another answered, it was Beau again.

"To this dungeon? Because he's waiting upstairs?" Jester asked and Molly's heart ached as the voices faded away.

Then, there was screaming. Agonizing, painful, hurt screaming that ripped Molly apart because he knew that was for him. It was the scream of someone who had lost so much already and had just lost what she had left; Yasha. The gentle, soft-spoken aasimar. She's lost a wife, a family, and now... she had lost him...

"Shine on, Circus Man," another voice breathed. A voice that carried the weight of so much damage already, so much pain and so much suffering. Molly knew that voice too.

There was a man standing there with a mess of reddish hair and a bit of dirt caked on his face. His bright blue eyes watched everything with a level of caution as he scratched the cat who was perched on his shoulder.

Caleb. That was Caleb.

"I would be honored... to take his sword," another strong voice announced, hesitating in pain and regret. Such a serious, solemn voice that was at the same time very welcoming and trustworthy; Fjord. The smile of the green half-orc slithered into Molly's recollection and it hurt Molly to think of that man shaking as he took the blade from Beau, tears of regret stinging his eyes.

"Molly... Molly said not to steal from happy people," a meek voice explained. A meek voice that had gotten into trouble too many times and feared authority and themselves. Green skinned, yellow eyes, fearful but spirited all at once. Nott, in all of her perfect imperfections, appeared in Molly's mind and Molly felt his chest grow warm, she had remembered...

All of them remembered him. All of them had lost him and he felt guilt flood through his body. How? How could he have left them? They were a dysfunctional, problematic group of assholes but they had been his assholes. They had needed him. Each one of them was broken in their own way and each one of them had needed someone to help... not someone to leave.

"Long may he reign!!" the familiar voices of his friends rang around him.

Molly flew out of his slumber. He was panting and sweating, a scream was building in his throat and tears were in his eyes. The dream was strange, lucid, and very real. He had glimpses of them! They were there, in his mind.

But they were fading. The memories were retreating back into the void of his mind. Fuck no!

He flew out of bed and ran around his room, scouring through it for paper and ink. He found an old flyer and a quick run down the stairs got him a lent pen from the owner who was working the late-night shift at the bar.