-1Sorry LOM readers… profile for information on my Charmed fandom. UV will be completed soon though.
I decided it was time to take a whack at writing something new, and as I have recently fallen in love with Waking The Dead I decided it would be the best place to start! It's short and has a pretty unresolved ending- but I wanted to show how Mel's death led to Frankie making her final decision to leave the cold case squad. Hopefully I've done an okay job! Let me know in reviews- they are much appreciated!
Disclaimer- The characters mentioned belong not to me, but the BBC. The writing is mine, and the writing alone.
Saying Goodbye
Frankie Wharton took her seat in the small, cold hall and felt a chill brush past her ankle. She could hear the muffled footsteps of those entering the service, and the occasional gust of mourning wind sweeping past the large oak doors outside. Other than her colleagues, the hall was full of people Frankie had never met, and would probably never meet again, but their purpose there was the same. Today was the day they were to lay DS Amelia Silver, 'beloved daughter, sister, colleague and friend', to rest.
She watched as three middle-aged men and an elderly looking couple- faces she had only ever seen smiling from within picture frames - entered the hall. Mel had always spoken fondly of her adoptive family, but their sombre, grieving faces were a contrast to how Frankie knew them in their two dimensional forms. They had lost a daughter and a younger sister - it would probably be a while before their faces ever showed that much joy again.
Beside her, Frankie felt Spencer begin to shake. She had never seen this man without his all-guns-blazing ego, or the mind to overcome any emotional turmoil, but today was different. Partly to comfort her colleague, and partly to comfort herself, Frankie slowly placed her hand in Spence's. When she dropped her eyes, unable to look into the aisle where Mel's parents and brothers were walking, she noticed that Spence's other hand had already found Grace's. Boyd, who sat on the other side of Grace, looked as though he were fighting any emotion from surfacing, but his arm had found Grace's shoulder in yet another gesture of support and comfort. Frankie tried to focus her mind on the image of her colleagues comforting one another as she leant into Spence's arm, but as the muffled footsteps continued behind her, Frankie felt nothing but guilt. To an extent the whole team blamed themselves for Mel's death - Frankie knew Spence did above anyone else. It was difficult to face Mel's friends and family, knowing that they too blamed the Cold Case team…
When Mel's family finally took their seats at the front of the sorrow-filled hall, a deathly silence came to linger. Frankie looked up and a tear fell from the corner of her eye as her gaze travelled across the rows of chairs and to the front of the room where the coffin had finally been placed. When she saw it- actually taking a moment to rest her eyes upon it-, bile travelled up her gullet burning her insides as it came. That wooden box; that simple and yet strangely beautiful wooden box (Chilli pine; five foot six in length; decorated with eloquent carvings and topped with a single white lily…) stirred Frankie's soul. She couldn't bare to look at it, but her eyes did not want to move. It made the situation a thousand times more real. For days Frankie had found herself wishing she could wake up from this twisted dream, but looking at the coffin ripped the smallest thoughts of hope from her mind. That wooden box; that simple and yet strangely beautiful wooden box…held the body of her best friend.
And Mel was never coming back.
A while ago, Frankie could remember Mel joking about what song she would have played at her funeral- 'Another One Bites The Dust', she had joked. Of course, Mel had never expected the moment to come so quickly. Nobody had. On some level, Frankie wished they would play it- an accurate reflection of her colleague's sarcastic mind. She smiled for a brief moment as she pictured the look which would have appeared on Mel's face, but the smile faded as soon as it came. She was never going to see Mel's face again.
Memories… they were all she'd have left of Amelia Silver. All she had left to honour and remember the amazing woman who had become her best friend.
Death was a large part of being a forensic pathologist, but before now Frankie had trained herself out of giving second thought to the cadaver's family, friends and colleagues. That was what they had become to her, after all- cadavers. Means of gathering evidence…
But not now. Not any more. She couldn't do it anymore…