Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Forty-Eight

A week later, Melody's life had entered a sort of routine in T'challa's compound. Her days were spent slowly, mostly hiding in the apartment and spending time with James. Anyone else she saw gave a brief hello and a wide berth.

 Why she had no factual proof but her theory was that they all had some idea of what she truly was and no idea how to approach her anymore.

That was what made hearing someone knock on her door was quite a shock and she leapt to her feet, not even stopping to pause the film she'd been watching and threw open the door.

"Good morning Doctor Frasier," the king of Wakanda was standing outside her door, dressed in a clean cut suit. Whenever he'd been before, it had to have been some sort of meeting. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she said, too stunned to say more as she stepped aside and allowed him in. It wasn't like she could really say no either as the whole building belonged to him. "But James isn't here, he's with Steve."

"I know. I wanted to talk to you if you're feeling up to it."

"I think I can spare a minute," Melody said though that depended entirely on what it was T'Challa wanted to talk about. "Won't you sit down?"

He smiled politely at her and took a seat at the table. Melody hesitated a moment. She wasn't sure whether or not to offer him something to eat or drink. She'd never really had people over to her apartment, just Sharon and she'd known her way around the place so well she'd never needed help.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked finally, unsure but still deciding it was better to offer and seem overly polite than to refrain and look rude. T'challa had been kind enough to pick her up at the airport personally, no questions asked and bring her to the base. She didn't want to see ungrateful.

"No, but thank you."

Melody slid into the seat across the table, the wooden surface ice cold under her numb hands. "Of course," the smile on her face was painful. Please, please don't ask about the shooting. Don't ask about the scars. 

T'challa smiled kindly at her. "Well firstly, I suppose I should ask how you're healing? I know you were recently released from the hospital prior to your arrival here."

She nodded, the numb feeling spread from her hands to the rest of her body. "I feel fine, thank you." Melody looked down at her hands and saw they were starting to shake. No, no, no and no. I am not doing this. She folded her hands in front of her and though her heart was beating frantically in her chest, she met T'challa's eye. "And with all due respect Your Highness, I do not want to discuss the event leading up to my injuries or anything that took place afterwards."

 T'challa regarded her intently, his long arms shifting on the table for a moment. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to be sure you're feeling alright. From what I heard, your injuries were extensive. I just wanted to know how long you plan to stay here."

"Excuse me?"

"How long you plan to stay in Wakanda," he clarified and Melody dropped her gaze to her hands once again. So much for bravery, she thought bitterly to herself. "You mentioned on the flight here you weren't planning to return to New York."

That was true. There was nothing left for Melody there. Her career at West Memorial was gone-no one there would ever look at her the same way again. She wouldn't be Doctor Freezer anymore, she'd just be a broken woman. And that was assuming they never found out she was a murderer. "That is correct."

T'challa smiled again, this smile more sly than compassionate. "And did you have any plans while you're here?"

How can I plan for a future when I've lost so much?