Here's Your Letter

Chapter 7

A/N: The second half of Melanie's memories after she and Terry broke up. Thanks for being patient. This is still a Work in Progress so I've got quite a lot of work left to do. I'm grateful for all those reading and actually REVIEW. (pointed glare) Hope you like this chapter.

Kyoko

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The silence was unbearable.

She was in Zack's apartment, waiting in the darkness for him to reply to what she had told him. He was facing the window, watching the rain beat against the glass, the faint glow of the tip of his cigarette glinting in the reflection. Her hands were clammy and clenched around her waist to keep from shaking as she waited. It was like she was on trial all over again. In some ways, she was.

"So it isn't mine?" His voice was colder than ice. Melanie felt a stab of shame and weakly answered,

"No."

"Then what makes you think I care?"

Melanie closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry, fingernails digging into her hips. She exhaled slowly, composing herself, and gathered up the courage to speak again.

"I'm not asking you to take care of the baby. I just thought you had a right to know."

And just like that, it was over. Another person was gone out of her life, leaving her hollow and empty once more. She turned away and walked out, still fighting the tears.

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The baby was born seven months later, on July 15th. It was a girl. Melanie named her Emily Meredith, after a best friend from her childhood. They lost contact after the Gang began to move once she'd "come of age". A few days before she went into labor, the restaurant job went under and she found herself jobless. She was nineteen, had a baby, no family, no friends, no job, and barely any money, which made her a perfect victim of Gotham City's cruelty. She stayed at Gotham General for as long as possible, but they soon pushed her out on her own. Finding a job was nearly impossible considering her criminal past of being a thief. Days dwindled and the last of her funds followed them until she and the baby were on the verge of bankruptcy and homelessness. She'd reached for the phone at least once a day, her hand aching to dial Terry's number and to beg him to take her back but stubborn pride wouldn't let her do it, not after he'd dumped her. So she suffered in silence, balancing her job search with taking care of the newborn, whose eyes ironically were pale shadows of her father's, a daily reminder of what she'd lost. In the end, her hand reached for the phone and dialed a number.

"What?" His voice was gruff from irritation and smoke.

"I…I need your help. Please—don't hang up."

Silence. "What is it?"

"I need m-money. Can you help me take out a loan?"

"Why should I?"

Her voice began to falter. "Please, Zack, I can't get it on my own because of my record and I'm almost out of money. I'm not asking you for me, I'm…I'm asking for my daughter."

He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was still flat and emotionless.

"Alright. I'll help you. Meet me at the restaurant downtown called The Sweet Spot at nine o'clock tonight. Come to the Manager's Office."

Before she could thank him, the phone line went dead. Melanie glanced at the clock. It was a little bit past eight-thirty.

Emily was in her crib, blissfully unaware of her mother's presence in the small bedroom. Melanie bent and kissed the top of her daughter's head, pulling the blanket up over her tiny body, and left.

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The drive to the restaurant didn't take very long, but sitting in the car, wondering if she was doing the right thing—or hell, the smart thing—made it seem like an eternity. Melanie knew Zack wasn't a saint and hadn't the faintest idea what his funds were like, but he was all she had left. And besides, she was willing to make any kind of sacrifice to take care of Emily. The thought of losing her scared her more than the thought of what kind of demands Zack would make.

The Sweet Spot was French restaurant famous in Gotham City for its sinfully sweet dessert items given free at the end of each meal. It was almost always packed, day and night, and was owned by Keith Green, a wealthy young man who moved to Gotham after several years of culinary arts school.

As she entered, a bitter smile touched Melanie's lips. It had been months since she'd been out to eat, especially at a place this nice. She stepped to the side of the long line of people, nervously smoothing down the hem of her wrinkled, black long-sleeved shirt, and waved to get the attention of maitre'd.

"I…I have a meeting with Zack Montell. In the Manager's Office."

The sandy-haired attendant briefly scanned the list on the desk and nodded.

"Follow me, please."

A wall split the entrance to the sitting tables, with booths lined up against both sides and tables fit comfortably in two rows beside them. Melanie followed the maitre'd to the right, away from the dirty looks the people in line were giving her, past the main room to the back corner, where a wall hid the kitchen and bathrooms. She turned the corner into a narrow hallway, lit by the lights from the kitchen bustling with noise and clatter. The smell of food made her stomach growl and she tried her best to mask her hunger, holding a hand over her abdomen as if it could muffle the sound. At the end of the hall was a grey door with black letters reading, "Manager's Office". The maitre'd opened the door for her and she timidly stepped inside the room.

Melanie blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness, and focused on the desk at the back of the room illuminated by an overhanging lamp. There were two couches on either side of her against the wall, two file cabinets next to them, and a few frames with pictures of Keith Green. Zack was seated at the desk, his feet propped up on the top, smoking as usual. She approached with slight apprehension, rubbing her arm nervously.

"Zack?"

He exhaled a mouthful of smoke in a stream, eyes closed, a blank expression on his shadowed face.

"What can you do for me if I give you this loan?"

Melanie flinched slightly. "…Anything."

He opened his eyes and looked at her then. "That covers a lot of ground, you know." He dropped his feet to the floor and stood, walking around the desk and extinguishing the cigarette.

"I want you to swear to me that you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it, no objections. From this day on, you are my property, is that understood?"

A cold clutch of fear crawled up in Melanie's gut and settled, a slight tremble making her hands shake as she stared up at him and his dead eyes. This was the only way. Her only out. Emily's only chance to survive.

She closed her eyes, head bowing. Her lips parted.

"…Yes."

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A/N: Thank you all for being so patient. I know it must be unbearable and I am very sorry. I work on this story when I can and I promise to try harder. Please review.

Kyoko