Disclaimer: I don't own the Runaways.

Author's Note: I imagine that they're all a little dark! Deep down.

Summary: the glass falls like rain and the blood runs dry on the wall/dark!Molly


As much as the others hate to admit it, they're all a little like their family. A little like the Pride. Nobody brings it up and they dance around the strange behaviours, the echoing quirks that they've seen before. When the stranger comes when the blue moon rises and they see the paintings, nobody wants to talk about it. It's just a picture they lie, eyes wide with a hope that has long since despaired.

Chase and Nico fight all the time. Victor and Karolina speak in veiled threats. In their dreams they watch and hesitate, they do not know how to fix this. Where to begin, they ask each other when nobody else is in the room. The tar pits are suffocating them, the portraits haunting their steps.

(can we fix it even if we tried?)

They called her Princess Powerful once and laughed with her. They don't anymore.

Molly's parents were good people, they were doctors. They helped people. They loved her. But as the Runaways begins to fray and fall apart, Molly hides in the 'Frog and asks questions, finds out where the anatomy books that are several editions out of date are stored. Pulls out the old training equipment when the others are asleep, stops wearing her hats.

Molly's parents were bad people, they were doctors. They hurt people. They loved her.

The Runaways were good people. They had a dream to fix what they broke, to try and fill in the shoes that were much to big. But now they are not-quite good people and the dream is beginning to look a little bit tarnished. They are too tired to keep trying to fill in the gap and keep the invaders at bay, too busy with their internal Cold War fears.


(molly waits and smiles – in order to fix something, Chase's parents had noted in one of their journals, you need to break it down into its base components in order to improve upon the original design)

(molly is invulnerable, she has her father's hands: they are quick and deft like a surgeon, she has her mother's voice: it is soft and encouraging)

(molly makes the first move when they aren't paying attention, and tears down their walls, breaks down their resolve)

(they call her bruiser now, and they cry as the blood runs dry and the sparks fly up)

(it's alright, she says with a smile, i'll fix it)

(in the distance the tar pits are still burning)