Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any of the characters!

Background: Okay, so I wanted to read a Halo story because I was thinking of writing one, and I noticed they were all Beth and Xavier...so, I wrote one on Molly and Gabriel. My details are kind of foggy, so don't hate if one of the facts are wrong! Thanks!

Enjoy!


Sometimes I wonder if Beth just didn't want me to date Gabe. It's like she thinks I'm wrong for liking him. How could that be wrong? He is so gorgeous!

I mean, yeah, he is way religious. Like, to the point of obsession, but I could do that. Hopefully he couldn't tell I was lying, because I just can't wrap my head around the fact of some old guy sitting on a cloud taking a tally of all my "sins", just waiting until the day I die to choose where I shall reside.

If that's true, I am so going to Hell.

I start picking at my nails, waiting. My red nail polish looks like blood, and I am bored with that. Maybe black next time, or orange.

I sigh and stretch. Gabriel. I read somewhere, in my info-search for religion, that there is an Archangel named Gabriel. His parents must be super-God-freaks too.

My phone rings, and Beth's picture pops up. It took me forever to get that, so I cherish it.

"Hey, boo," I say. "What's up?"

"Hey Molly!" She sounds especially chipper, she must've talked to Xavier recently. "Gabe is cooking again and Ivy said I could invite you. Which is rare, so I would take advantage." She giggled.

"I'd love to!" I say a little too quickly. "Um. Yeah. I'll be there in a few."

" 'Kay, see ya then!" She says as I clip the phone shut.

I look down at my hands and groan. Chips in my nails? Lovely. Lifting my arm up and inhaling I sigh and walk into my bathroom. Shedding my clothes as the water runs in the shower, I glance at myself in the mirror, turning to the side as I suck in my stomach. I wasn't fat – far from it – but every girl has insecurities, right?

I step into the shower, letting it cascade down my body in waves. Turning so the shoot is at my backside, I run my fingers through my hair, dampening the strands before reaching for the shampoo.

"Shit!" I shout as a clump of the bubbles fall down my wet forehead and into my eyes. I squeeze them shut and reach out past the curtain, flailing for a towel. When I do find one, I press it to my eye and pull out to the side.

"God, that hurt!" I say to myself, sliding the end of the cloth under the water and rubbing my eyes again.

After I had rinsed my eye for a good fifteen minutes, I finished up with my hair, shaving and soaping before stepping out. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw myself. My hair was flat now from the water and reminded me of a bloody sewer rat, and I brilliantly didn't take any of my make-up off. So, one eye was bloodshot all the way around my iris, and my cheeks were stained with mascara.

Damn. It.

It took me twenty minutes to cleanse my face and my cell phone was going off. I cursed loudly and leaned down, wrestling my jeans for the device blasting out, "Everybody be breaking their neck like 'Who dat girl? Who dat girl?'"

I flipped it open and pressed it to my ear. "Sorry, Bethie! I um . . . I hit my time of the month and had to change and all that crap."

Best lie ever.

"Um. Hello, Molly, this is Gabriel . . ."

Worst lie ever!

"Oh, crap. Uh, hi, Gabe." I slammed my hand into my forehead. My period? Really? Damn!

"Beth was getting worried, so I called for her," he says simply, his voice dripping like melted chocolate. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah. I took a shower, sorry, I'll be over in twenty."

"Would you like someone to come pick you up?" He asked. "I'd be happy to, if you wish."

"Um. Sure. Yeah, that would be great." I nodded while I spoke.

"See you in a few," Gabe said, ending the call.

I stared at the disconnected phone for a moment before dropping it like a hot potato and rushing into my bedroom, throwing on my clothes and towel drying my hair at the same time.

I looked at myself in the mirror. No make up on my face, no water dripping from my hair, and my outfit accented my curves in just the right way. Perfect.

Which is good, because right then, the doorbell rang.