I think this one is my favorite so far :-)
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Prompt: Melody
Abby couldn't hold a tune to save her life. It had always been a sore spot for the outgoing goth girl. She had listened to others singing, and wished her voice could soar like theirs could. But growing up in a deaf household, music hadn't really had much of an emphasis. Plus, she always joked, she had probably lost all the musical hearing she had listening to ear-splitting death metal.
She was embarrassed by her lack of talent, and didn't often sing. McGee kept trying to get her to open up about it. After all, not everyone could be a pop star. It was a mark of how comfortable she was with him that sometimes, on long car rides, she would sing along with McGee to the radio, adding her off-key alto to his rich baritone.
"Standing on your mama's porch, you told me that you'd wait forever. Ooooh, and when you held my hand, I knew that it was now or never. Those were the best days of my life!"
Abby giggled as the song came to an end.
"Play it again, Tim," she instructed him.
"We've played it four times already. I didn't know you were such a huge Bryan Adams fan," McGee complained.
Abby pouted.
"Come on, I'm almost getting it!"
With a laugh, McGee hit the repeat button.
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McGee woke suddenly, the memory of Abby's singing on their last trip still lingering as the dream faded. He rolled over, reaching for Abby in the dark. Her side of the bed was empty, and growing cold. He glanced at the clock: 2:46. With the little sleep she was getting these days, she should be still in bed.
With a sigh, McGee got up. Whatever she was doing, he would try to convince her to get some sleep. Poking his head out of the bedroom door, McGee heard a peculiar sound. A soft, off-key singing drifted from down the hall.
McGee pushed the blankets away, and padded out of the room, following the sound. McGee leaned against the doorpost and drank in the sight before him.
Abby was standing by the window, her face turned towards the black-curtained glass. In her long nightgown, with her hair tumbling about her shoulders and the soft moonlight illuminating her every curve, she was breathtaking. McGee thought that she had never looked more like an angel than she did now.
She was rhythmically patting the back of the newborn baby she held against her shoulder, swaying gently as she sang.
"Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away bit girl tonight you look so pretty, yes do you. Time's Square can't shine as bright as you. I swear it's true."
As ever, her singing was off-key. But there was such beauty in her gentle crooning, such elegance in the way she swayed from side to side, soothing the infant with the motion and soft sound.
She may not have been the best singer in the world, but right at that moment, with his wife singing his newborn daughter to sleep, it was the most beautiful melody McGee had ever heard.