Wrong as it was, the carnage of the bus crash was like an oasis for Melody. Her two and a half weeks in Wakanda, while incredible had also been lacking. She had missed the hospital, missed the feeling of a real scalpel in her hand, missed the chaos of the ER and the way it tested her intelligence and skills as a doctor. Leaping down from the ambulance rig with her patient whom she'd had to interest an emergency trach into him with an emptied ball-point pen. The quick and dirty trauma had been a relief to her. It had marked the return of a piece of herself, the piece that had been missing since arriving in the country. The piece of her that used her darkness to achieve good, the piece of her that was a doctor.

Now, even twelve hours after the fact, her limbs aching with tiredness, Melody felt happy. Whole. Sure, the panic, chaos and intensity of the day had kept this feeling at bay on her trip back to the compound, but now that the initial tidal wave had passed, she felt happy. There had been many folks injured in the crash and some had been critical indeed and yet, miraculously no one was had been declared dead.

That could change she knew, but for now, to her knowledge it had not. The crash that could've been a catastrophe was not yet one. And part of that was due to Melody and her abilities as a surgeon. The ability to go back to that, her have her skills both learned from her residency and from her life become useful and helpful again made her feel complete. The complete, whole version of herself with every piece in place.

Melody smiled tiredly to herself, making her way through the dark building, not wanting to wake anyone up. It was midnight now, possibly afterwards and she didn't want to disturb anyone. Or rather, she didn't want to disturb anyone just yet.

Selfish as it was, she was going to go and see James. She knew he was probably asleep by now, knew he needed his rest but it still wasn't enough to stop her. Melody needed to see him. Not because she'd had a horrible day and had seen Death come for too many people too soon. No, that wasn't it at all. She just wanted to see him lay next to him and fall asleep. She wanted to go home after putting in a good day's work.

Melody unlocked the door to James's apartment. Though she didn't have a key of her own, he did have an extra one hidden in the potted plant that was in the hallway in case he ever lost his. James had told her about it not long after she'd arrived, in case she ever needed to get into the apartment without him.

She expected, as she turned the door for the studio to be dark and quiet. She was only half right. The room was quiet, but it was not dark. James was sitting up at the table and perked up at the sound of her arrival. Melody winced as she caught sight of his face. Though she had been performing a repair on a throat and later helping deal with an influx of trauma to an ER for twelve hours total, he looked more exhausted than she was.

"What are you still doing up?" Melody whispered, kicking off her boots and hurrying to the table to sit by James. "Did you have a nightmare?" She laced her fingers through his almost without thought. James's nightmares had been worse since the lab last week and now, because of the crash, he'd been left to deal with it alone...

"No," James yawned. "Not a nightmare. I've just been waiting for you."

"Me? What the hell? James's it's," she turned her head to look at the clock. "One in the morning! You should be sleeping!"

"So should you," he replied with a sleepy grin and Melody rolled her eyes.

"I," she said, letting go of his hand and pushing herself away from the table. "Am a doctor. I am used to odd hours. You," she reached for his hand again and pulled his arm gently and James obliged her by standing up. "Are not a doctor. You are not used to this and you need to sleep."

James yawned again, which, in her mind only furthered the point. Even so, Melody smiled a bit to herself as she led the half-awake man to his bed. Without any protest or grumbling on his part, Melody pulled off his shirt and jeans and helped him into bed. James curled up under the covers instantly, a bit like a cat in their favorite chair and Melody smiled.

Leaning over him, she brushed some hair from his face and kissed him lightly. "No more staying up for me," she told him. "That's not healthy." James barely slept the night before and hadn't slept during the day that she was aware of. Roughly, Melody estimated that it had been nearly twenty hours since he'd last slept. It wasn't a pace he could keep going at, he'd get sick eventually.

"I thought you'd need me," he mumbled, eyes closing as Melody laid under the covers and rolled onto her side. "You had a rough time, when that train derailed." He jerked them open again, looking at her, waiting for her to confirm or deny that she needed someone to be there for her.

A pang shot through Melody's chest, equal parts sorrow and profound happiness. I can't believe he remembered that, Melody herself had forgotten it. Not the wake of trauma and death the train accident had left in it's wake, but what had happened to her afterwards. How she'd come back to the house, battling with the ghosts in her mind and loosing. That she had forgotten. And James had not. He'd stayed up, waiting for her in case the bus crash brought the same feelings back again.

James's tired eyes fluttered open and he frowned at her. "Hey," he reached out with his hand and curled it around her face. "Don't cry. It's alright." His thumb swept across her cheek and Melody realized in that moment that she was in fact tearing up. She hadn't even realized it. "Talk to me," James said, his words heavy with tiredness. "I'm right here."

"I'm fine," Melody said, swallowing the lump that was forming quiet rapidly in her throat.

"You're crying," James wiped away another tear. This time, Melody was aware of the warm liquid running a path down her face.

"Nothing bad happened today," she said, voice cracking as curled her hand around James's. His fingers felt like ice but it didn't matter. Cold had never been so comforting. "Mass injuries, some serious but no deaths yet that I'm aware of."

"Then what's wrong?"

Melody slide closer to him and rested her head on his chest. James had cold hands, but his chest was warm. She sighed against his skin and pressed a kiss on his chest, right where his heart was beating. "I love you."

"I know," James's words slurred a little bit and Melody felt his arm relax.

"I don't say it enough." Melody realized the truth of that as the words left her mouth. She never said 'I love you' enough. Not to anyone. Not to Sharon and not to James. That needed to change and she closed her eyes, another set of warm tears sliding down her face as she promised herself she would remedy that oversight. She had to do better. James deserved that from her.

James didn't reply to her, but she knew by the relaxed, steady pace of his breathing and heart that he had fallen asleep. Melody sighed, and began to hum Chasing Cars . She didn't do this for her own sake, as she felt perfectly content and safe, she was doing it for James. She hummed softly through the entire song, hoping, that he'd heard. Hoping his sleeping mind would latch onto that and dream of music instead of murder.

But whether nor not she finished the song Melody didn't know, despite all her best attempts, her twelve hour run in a hospital, James's around her and the lulling patterns in the song sent her off to sleep.

Melody awoke to a pleasant pressure against the middle of her back. Though she was not yet fully awake, a sigh escaped her as the pressure increased sharply before moving towards her left side.

"Morning," James's gravely voice reached her ears and she felt the rough scraping of his stubble-covered jawline against her cheek as he kissed her.

"Morning," she murmured back, sighing as she felt James's fingers prod against a particular stiff muscle. "Do we have any coffee?" Though it couldn't have been that late in the day, already, Melody felt the steady, pounding beat of a headache radiating through her skull. Given how long her day had been yesterday, it wasn't a far-fetched diagnosis to think that a lack of caffeine was the cause.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to run out?" James teased and Melody felt the bed shift as he crawled out of it. "I'll make you breakfast."

Melody sat up too. "I just asked for coffee."

"I don't give a damn if you're a doctor," James informed her, pulling on his jeans from the night before. "Despite what you believe, you cannot live off of caffeine. And after yesterday, you need real food now more than usual. What sounds good?"

Coffee, she thought, raking her hand through her snarly hair. But that wouldn't be an acceptable answer so Melody said the first thing that popped into her head. "French Toast?"

James pulled on his shirt and grinned at her. "Sounds great, I'll get started on that and you can start coffee."

Melody smiled. "What? You're not afraid I'll blow it up?"

James shrugged. "Nah, if that was going to happen it already would have. I think I can trust you with it." He put heavy emphasis n the word "think" and Melody rolled her eyes. She knew very little about cooking, but she certainly knew how to make coffee.

"I hate you," Melody informed him as she got up off the bed and made her way towards the coffee pot.

"I'm too cute for you to hate me," James shot back as she tried to reach the Folgers. James had placed it on the top shelf and sadly, for her, that was a bit out of her reach. He must have realized it as well, as she saw a long arm rise above her head and hand it down to her. "And I'm too useful. How else would you reach tall things if you didn't have me?"

"I'd use a stepstool," Melody replied, taking the red container from James and trying not to smile. "I got by fine for thirty years without you."

"Yeah," James agreed and he brushed another kiss, playfully across her cheek. "But it's easier to have some help isn't it?"

Melody wasn't able to stop her blushing. He was right. Though she'd lived three decades completely self-reliant, having another set of hands to help with everyday, irksome tasks was nice. She'd almost forgotten what that was like.

She pried open the Folgers and the rich, bitter smell of coffee grounds reached her nose. Already, it seemed to make her throbbing head feel better, just knowing that relief wasn't that far away. As she worked, off to her side she heard James rattling around by the stove and soon, the sizzling sound of food on a hot pan mixed with the steady drip off coffee.

The smell was intoxicating and Melody realized how hungry she was as her stomach growled angrily, demanding food. The sound was not unnoticed by James either. "When was the last time you ate?"

Melody turned around and leaned against the counter. Now that he asked, she realized it had been too long. She'd eaten breakfast with him yesterday morning, but when she had been brought to the city and the crash occurred, Melody really hadn't made time for lunch or dinner. Her stomach growled again, as though to further remind her of her failure to take proper care of that organ.

Her silence was answer enough. "Melody," James said and his voice carried a bit of a warning edge. "That's not okay."

"I know," she shrugged. "I didn't mean to. I just...got caught up in the medicine." She'd missed t so much, though she'd only been apart from it for not even two weeks. Surgery was one of the greatest things in her life. Knowing her intelligence and skill were the reason some people were still living and breathing was incredible. A high, unlike anything she'd ever known. Her ability to turn that darkness inside into a tool, but not a tool for murder but a tool to preserve human life was what brought her peace. And she'd been missing both of those things ever since she walked through the doors of the compound.

"What'd you do anyways?" James asked, interrupting her musings as he flipped over the food. The bread had turned golden brown. "At the hospital I mean, when you got there."

"Oh," Melody grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. She had to stand up on her toes to do it. "Well I was on the scene of the crash and started triaging victims-."

"What's 'triaging'?" James flipped the French toast onto a plate and Melody set two mugs off coffee down on the table.

"Triage is a system of assess patients injuries and deciding where to go from there. In a mass causality situation, that just means deciding who's treatment is priority one-there the ones who can't afford to wait. In this case, it was a fellow who'd suffered an neck injury, I had to do an emergency tracheotomy, which basically means making an incision into the throat," Melody ran her fingertip over her throat to demonstrate. "And then putting in a tube to get air into their lungs."

"You had a breathing tube on you?"

"No."

"Then how exactly," James set a plate down in front her which was piled with two slices of golden French toast and no syrup. Exactly how she liked it. "Did you do that tracheotomy thing?"

"I had a pen," Melody said, grabbing her fork and cutting a section of the crispy bread off. "So I emptied it out, swabbed it with an alcohol wipe from my purse and put it in. Not exactly pretty, but it worked. "

"How'd you make the cut?"

"One of T'challa bodyguards had a pocket knife. Again, really not pretty," she winced, recalling the bulky feeling of the blade in her hand. It wasn't even close to a scalpel, but it was all they had. In her mind's eye, Melody could easily recall the vivid shade of John Doe's face as he tried and failed to breathe on his own. As with many trauma procedures, there wasn't time to be neat and perfect. It was life and death. Life and death meant it had to be quick and it had to work. There was no room for anything else. "But if I'd waited until I had proper tools he would've suffocated. When the ambulance came, I jumped in the rig with him and came to the hospital. They had more incoming so I was a welcome addition and I spent part of my time their repairing his throat, with help of course, a fellow assisted me and then I was back in the ER doing sutures and assessing patients as they came in."

"Why didn't you just do it alone? Did you really need another set of hands?"

Melody took a bite before answering. The food was savory and felt good on her empty stomach. "I don't often repair tracheas," she said. "I needed someone with a bit more experience. Just to be safe. So they paged plastics. They do more trach repairs."

"Plastic as in plastic surgery?"

"Yep." Melody saw the confusion written on James's face, from his raised eyebrows to the fact that he'd paused with his food halfway to his mouth. "Not to be confused with cosmetic surgery which it seems like you're doing."

"Well what's the difference? Don't they both deal with how someone looks?"

"Yes, but cosmetic surgery is elective. As in the patient does not need it, they just want it. Plastic surgery deals more with reconstruction. They deal with both look and function. Say, for instance if my face was crushed in a freak accident, it is a plastic surgeon who would repair that damage and be concerned not only with making me look human again, but making sure that the things on my face, like my nose work the way they're supposed to."

James plopped a bit of French toast into his mouth. "Well, it's nine the morning and I already learned something new. Productive day." He smiled teasingly at her and Melody couldn't help but grin back. It was hard not to smile at James.

"Then it's a good day," she replied. "I don't think any day is complete without learning at least one new thing."

"Preferably surgical related right Doctor?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Though I wouldn't mind learning how to make this stuff," Melody speared another bit of French Toast. "I know the basics, but I've never actually done it before."

"And that's probably a good thing." James's eyes twinkled and Melody's face flamed. No doubt he was remembering her disastrous attempt at making pancakes. The same principle had applied for her, Melody had known the basics to how to make them, but had never actually done it herself. She had figured it wouldn't be that hard, but had been proven wrong when she'd burned them to bits of charcoal and set off the smoke alarms.

"How can I get better if I don't learn?"

James laughed. "True. I'll teach you someday, just make sure there's a fire extinguisher on hand."

Melody rolled her eyes, face still very warm. "So, if that's what I have to wait on to learn how to make breakfast, what else can you teach me today? I'd like to get ahead of the game myself." She smiled, teasing but James did not. The grin he had been wearing slipped off his face and his gaze fell down onto his half-empty plate. "What's wrong? What'd I say?"

"Not what you said," James replied, sounding a bit moody as he stabbed his breakfast. Melody jumped a bit at the sudden change. He'd been talking and joking with her ten seconds ago, whatever was on his mind must've been awful. It was the only explanation as to why his mood had changed so drastically in such a short span of time. Melody sighed and set down her fork. Suddenly she wasn't so hungry. James was never this moody with her. Not anymore. Whatever it was that set it off, she was afraid to know. Had something gone wrong at the lab yesterday while she was gone? Had the doctors finally given up? Pronounced that there was nothing more they could do? That was the hardest sentence for any scientist to utter, but it did happen. She had said it herself many times and that was a pill that never stopped being bitter. And even if it wasn't the lab, a fight with Steve could've put him out of sorts too. Melody wasn't sure which it was, but she was going to find out and there was only one way to do that.

Melody reached across the table and grabbed James's hand. "Hey," she said gently. "Talk to me."

James curled his fingers around her hand, but he didn't look her in the eye. "Sharon saw us yesterday and she was not pleased."

Melody felt her heart drop into her stomach. Oh crap. Despite her assurances to her friend that she was mentally and emotionally sound, Sharon had not believed her. Of course, Melody couldn't really blame her for that. She still hid her arms from the elbow up, never undressed in front of her despite knowing her for over a decade and she still had all her secrets bottled up inside. Sharon only had her word that Melody was okay, but she had no proof outside of it. The fact that she still worried made sense. But that had a drawback, mostly in the form of Sharon's highly over protective nature.

"And what," Melody asked, squeezing his hand. She wasn't sure if it was more for his assurance or for her own. "Does 'not pleased' mean?"

James's still didn't look at her, but Melody felt his fingers tighten around her hand and a shadow of a scowl on his face. "She made it clear in no certain terms that I was not allowed to flirt with you, was not stable, reliable or safe enough for you, that you'd just beat yourself up if I told you how I felt and when I tried to object to how she kept talking for you I got a nice little reminder about how I strangled you last week."

A very hard, bitter note entered his voice as he said that and Melody felt it echo in her own mind. "She said that?" Melody's voice sounded cold, even to her own ears. "She actually said that?"

James looked up at her finally, his face was a little pale. He opened his mouth, but Melody leapt her to feet, tearing her hand from James's own and though her blood was boiling inside her, Melody's head was perfectly clear. She needed to talk to Sharon and she needed to do it now.

"Melody," James said as she pulled on her boots. He was still sitting motionless at the table, but his eyes followed her every move. "What are you doing?"

"I need to speak with Sharon," she replied, hearing her voice. It sounded odd to her, but she wasn't quiet sure why. Melody could feel barely contained rage trembling through every bone in her body. It wasn't for lack of understanding on her part; she knew why Sharon had said the things she did. If the situation were reversed, Melody might have been of the same mind. Sharon did have a point, being with James was not a safe thing. Melody would never deny that truth. It was something she couldn't escape. But even though she was right on that count, even though she only said those things out of a desire to protect someone she loved-there was a line in the dirt. And bringing up what happened in the lab had crossed it entirely.

No amount of love excused that and Melody was fully intent on making sure Sharon knew it.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" James's stood up then, his chair scraping along the floor as Melody tied off her laces.

"Of course I'm sure," she made a move to get off the edge of the bed, but James grabbed her arm. "Let go of me."

"I will," James said, still holding her wrist gently. "When you calm down."

"I am calm," but even as she said that, Melody knew it was wrong. Now, she knew why her voice sounded so strange. Her words were short, clipped but not cool and collected. They were bitter and agitated, leaving her mouth with increasing levels of volume. She was shouting, or at least, she was coming very, very close to that level. Her voice was far louder than it normally was.

The knowledge made her stop a moment. Melody never shouted. "I was shouting," she said, more to herself than to James. The knowledge was still so strange. Melody remembered the last time she'd been angry enough to shout. It had been two years ago, after that mother and son came into her ER.

"Yes," James agreed, his hand still on her wrist though he wasn't quiet holding her steady anymore. It was more like a comforting gesture. "You were."

"Is that why you stopped me?"

"Yes."

"You're not angry with Sharon?" she asked.

"No, I am." James looked over at her. "Of course I am. She had no right to talk for you like that and frankly that's what pissed me off the most. The things she said about me weren't wrong, but she's wrong about you. You're stronger than she gives you credit for."

Melody leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. The fact that Sharon under estimated her was her own fault. She couldn't blame Sharon for holding that belief when Melody herself had done nothing to prove them otherwise. James had it wrong. "From what I let her know about me," she said, "Sharon's assumptions about my strength are correct. Inaccurate in reality, but that's my fault. It was you she's wrong about."

She lifted her head up and pressed her lips against James's cheek. The stubble was rough against her skin but she didn't mind it. The scratchy texture, like his cold fingers were now something Melody associated with comfort. Love had turned things she once found irksome into things that she now cherished because they were part of him.

"You're good enough for me James," she said softly, laying her head on his shoulder again. Even siting down, James was still taller than her which made the gesture both easy and comfortable.

"I never told you she said that," he replied, and Melody glanced up at him to see a curious frown on his face. "Or did I?"

"You didn't," she said, "but the meaning was there. Besides, she said the same thing to Derrick when she met him."

"Did she?"

"Yep." And she was wrong again. Derrick was-is good enough for me, I'm just not good enough for him, she thought as she stood up and this time James let her. "Thank you," she said, "for holding me back." It had initially annoyed her, but Melody knew why he'd done it. Angry as she was, Melody now had control over that feeling and had been lacking it before. If she'd gone off to speak with Sharon in that state, she would've said things she didn't mean. Maybe let something too important slip. James had protected her from that. Now she had the anger to say what needed to be said and the control to make sure it was only what was needed and nothing more.

She made her way towards the door and this time James didn't stop her. Before she walked out, Melody turned back. "Thank you, by the way, for stopping me."

James shrugged. "It was nothing."

Melody shook her head. No, protecting her from herself was everything. The greatest battle anyone would ever fight would be with their worst instincts. Melody already knew that she lost against hers. She learned that when she was twelve years old and put that gun under John's chin. She could never win that battle-not alone. And thanks to James, she had not been alone. She'd had someone at her side, fighting with her and reminding her why those lower instincts, those dark places inside her soul couldn't be allowed to win.

That wasn't nothing.

Come to think of it, Melody thought as she left the apartment. That anger now mixing with logic and a clear sense of purpose. James is too good for me too. He just doesn't realize it.

New chapter! It got way longer than I intended, hope that doesn't cause any glitches for anyone! As always, please, I love reviews so do leave one if you have the time! Thanks for reading! :)