Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Forty

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes okay?" Sharon had assured Melody of this at least ten times already in the last few minutes, but she let it go. The amount of times Sharon was going to fuss over her where numbered and she figured she could cherish it while she could. "I'm so sorry. In fact, I think I could-."

"Sharon," Melody said flatly. "You can step outside for a bit and make a damn phone call. I'll still be here when you get back." She was still apologizing for the fact that work was still pestering her. It made sense to her-counter terrorism was like emergency surgery, you couldn't just wait to handle it. 

"Are you sure?  Because I am more than okay with ignoring my boss."

"If you do that he's going to put you on scut for a month."

"What?" Sharon gave her a blank look.

Melody felt a blush rise in her face. "Slang term here, means menial tasks. Like paperwork." Sharon made a face, as Melody knew she would. Desk life was not well suited to her friend, not at all. "Go and answer his thirty voicemails-it's okay. I'll be fine."

Sharon still didn't look so sure about that, but her mouth set into a determined line. "I'll just be down the hall, send a nurse after me if you need me for any reason."

"Noted," Melody replied, "but unlikely. See you soon." She smiled at Sharon who returned it, albeit weakly and with one hush of a closing curtain Melody was alone for the first time in four hours. Two of which she'd been asleep for. Sharon hadn't left her in all that time, not once. I'm going to miss her.  She thought as she shifted against her pillows and shut her eyes. They were achy now, dry from all the tears she'd shed earlier. She hadn't been able to stop them, though she had tried nearly everything. The only route she had taken was the switch in her mind, the dark little place she'd discovered when she was twelve years old and holding a gun under John's chin.

Melody sighed, the familiar weight of her secrets crushing her lungs. One of them was gone now, but two remained. James and the real story behind John Fraise's death. The last one was going to be ripped out soon and she had a feeling that would be when the final nail was placed onto the coffin where her medical career would be laid to rest. No patient in their right mind would want her to operate on their loved ones if they knew what she was really capable of.

There was a hush of a curtain being pulled back and then footsteps on tile. She looked up, expecting to see Danny, her nurse coming to check on her again. 

She was wrong. It wasn't Danny that was there, it was Moira. 

"Hello Melody," she said, collapsing her hands together in front of her. Nine years had passed since they'd seen each other and the changes were subtle. Her blonde hair was streaked now with grey, the lines around her eyes just a bit more noticeable.

To anyone else, she wouldn't have been an offensive sight but Melody glared back at her, jaw clenching. "What the fuck are you doing here Moira?" 

Moira Frasier's hesitant smile flickered. "I just found out what happened," she explained. "I came as soon as I could." 

 "What made you think I'd want to see you?" Melody demanded, her voice was so cold she swore that she felt the temperature of the room drop.

"You were shot," Moira repeated again, fiddling with the strap of her black handbag. "Children need their mothers when they're sick and I know you hate me, but I'm still your mother and you're still my daughter. I had to know you were alright." 

Really? Melody thought, venom eroding the cold anger she'd felt moments before. "I've been sick before," she said softly, her voice trembling with rage and her heart began to beat hard and fast in her chest. "I've been injured before."

Pain flashed across Moira's face and she looked away from Melody, sighing heavily. "I know that. And I'm sorry. I've never stopped being sorry."

"You have absolutely no right to be here." 

"Melody-," she tried again, tears in her eyes. "Please, just hear me out."

"It's Doctor Frasier and there is nothing you can say that I haven't heard from you before. Get out of this room and stay the hell out of my life."

Moira stepped back, like the words were a blow. Melody saw tears shine in her eyes and the woman who had never been her mother sighed. "It's okay if you hate me, I understand. But I will always love you and if you ever need me, I'll be here."

She turned to walk away and Melody couldn't stop herself. "I stopped needing you a very long time ago. Don't you dare try to guilt trip me here, you set this path for us. Not me." 

"That wasn't a guilt trip Melody," she replied. Her tears were spilling over by now. "It's the truth. No matter what, I will always love you."

"Get out."

Moira's lower lips trembled again and as she left, Melody watched her go. She wasn't able to escape the fact that there was a distinct lack of Merlot wafting around Moira but even so, she didn't care. Sober or not, it was all too late. 

There could be a truce but not forgiveness. Not for Melody's part anyway. She wasn't capable of that kind of strength. 

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