Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Seventy-One

Melody was no stranger to getting stitches,  but even so this time was a bit weird. She tied off the pitch black line and examined her handiwork in the mirror James was holding for her above the now closed wound. 

"It's good," she decided, "and I don't think I need to bandage this." She clipped a bit of the excess off with a straight mayo scissors; the exact same instrument Wanda had buried in her leg about a half hour before. 

The young woman was sitting silently in a chair now, white-faced and entirely silent. It had been an accident of course, Melody knew that, but still, the incident bothered her for one simple reason; it shouldn't have happened at all. It was not an accident born of outside factors, but of negligence. And that was something she'd never been good at tolerating from anyone, including herself. She planned to speak to Wanda about it when they were alone. 

"You're fast," Scott commented. The Ant-Man had insisted on accompanying Melody and James to the lab and he had been observing her suturing from the moment she'd removed the instrument from her thigh. 

"Practice," she replied. "Years and years of practice."

"And that was a baseball stitch?"

"No, purse-string."

"Which is?"

"It's a circular inversion that draws the two sides of the wound together and closes it, the closure," she made a sweeping gesture to her completed suture, "looks like a purse string."

"Gross but cool," the thin man nodded, furthering considering the thought. "You do that often?"

"Yep. But I do baseball sutures way more, they're not as secure since it's a continuous stitch but sometimes you don't have that sort of time." 

"What about that other one? The one your-I mean, the one that has the same name as you," Scott caught his near use of the word 'father' and his eyes went wide; so he either knew or had inferred part of her story.

"Frasier stitch is like a cross between the two," Melody said, her arm and chest burning with the memories. "Good for both internal and external wounds and very useful." She was far too familiar with the external part. "I hate it."

"You just said it was useful."

"When you have to hear 'look, I'm using you to stitch this guy's leg' ten times a week you'd hate it too. The joke get's old fast." And there was also the matter of John cutting her open at dinner and then practicing the suture on her, but she didn't want to bring that up. They'd all just eaten.

"Will you be able to walk on it?" Scott asked, Wanda finally looking up from the floor, still silent, but interested. Melody wasn't teh best at reading people, but she had a strong feeling that Scott had just asked the question on Wanda's mind. 

"More like limping than anything," she admitted, "but there hasn't been any lasting harm done. I'll be fine in a week." 

Wanda's little smile didn't go unnoticed by her either

"Mel," Wanda's low voice reached her ears ten seconds later. "I am so, so sorry." She got up from her seat, a little color returning to her oval face. "I wasn't thinking and I just-I'm sorry, I am really, very sorry."

Now was her opening and Melody turned her head to look at the young woman. "Shut up." Her apologetic expression flattered into one of confusion, but she wasn't going to say anything. Melody was not going to allow it. "You're very powerful Wanda, you're very gifted and though I do not know you well, you seem like a good person. But you do not get to be sorry. You do not get to stand here and tell me you're sorry for the new scar you gave me. You were careless, you were thoughtless, you were unaware of your surroundings and I got hurt for it."

"I didn't mean-," the young woman tried, brown eyes flashing with pain and defiance. Melody knew the look well, she'd seen it before on interns and residents before when she'd given them this talk. But it didn't change her stance, this was something Wanda needed to hear. This was the third time she'd made this mistake. The first had been in Nigeria, when she'd accidentally sent a bomb up and into a building. She hadn't realized how close the building was when she sent up the explosion and the mistake, her lack of awareness of her surroundings had harmed people. It had been a terrible, terrible mistake and it should've been the only time it happened. But it wasn't. It had happened again, twice more and something had to be done before a fourth one hit. 

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me," Melody replied, "but it doesn't change the fact that you did. You're carelessness hurt me and four months ago it sent an arrow through Scott Lang's arm. You do not get to be sorry, Wanda. You do not get to wallow in self-pity for your mistakes. The only thing you are allowed to be is better."

Melody let her words hang in the tense air and got on her feet, the numbing medication was starting to wear off and a dull throbbing went up her leg as she put a small bit of weight on it. She looked back at the Avenger, who was pale white and her eyes were shining with shock or unshed tears Melody had no idea but she didn't care. 

Beside her Scott was open-mouthed, Clint glared at her and James just looked tired. She had a feeling she'd hear about her comments later. Oh well.

Wanda wasn't a surgeon, but she was certainly a type three, great and good. Or rather she could be, but she had to learn, she had to stop repeating the same mistakes over and over and sometimes, that lesson had to come in a painful way. Melody knew that well. Better this be this moment, coming from her, someone who wanted to see her soar than someone who wanted to tear her down. Better now, when the mistake was just a scar, versus a wound that one couldn't recover from.

And as she walked away, the pathetic sound of whimpering told her that the learning process had begun to start. Only time would tell if it would last.

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