"I'll be back in fifteen minutes okay?" Sharon had assured Melody of this at least ten times already in the last few minutes, but she let it go. The amount of times Sharon was going to fuss over her where numbered and she figured she could cherish it while she could. "I'm so sorry. In fact, I think I could-."
"Sharon," Melody said flatly. "You can step outside for a bit and make a damn phone call. I'll still be here when you get back." She was still apologizing for the fact that work was still pestering her. It made sense to her-counter terrorism was like emergency surgery, you couldn't just wait to handle it.
"Are you sure? Because I am more than okay with ignoring my boss."
"If you do that he's going to put you on scut for a month."
"What?" Sharon gave her a blank look.
Melody felt a blush rise in her face. "Slang term here, means menial tasks. Like paperwork." Sharon made a face, as Melody knew she would. Desk life was not well suited to her friend, not at all. "Go and answer his thirty voicemails-it's okay. I'll be fine."
Sharon still didn't look so sure about that, but her mouth set into a determined line. "I'll just be down the hall, send a nurse after me if you need me for any reason."
"Noted," Melody replied, "but unlikely. See you soon." She smiled at Sharon who returned it, albeit weakly and with one hush of a closing curtain Melody was alone for the first time in four hours. Two of which she'd been asleep for. Sharon hadn't left her in all that time, not once. I'm going to miss her. She thought as she shifted against her pillows and shut her eyes. They were achy now, dry from all the tears she'd shed earlier. She hadn't been able to stop them, though she had tried nearly everything. The only route she had taken was the switch in her mind, the dark little place she'd discovered when she was twelve years old and holding a gun under John's chin.
I died that day, she reflected. The part of me that was a child, that believed in people, believed in good people-died. And she'd never been able to get it back. That would have been Anthony's fate, had he succeeded in his plan. No one had yet told her what became of the kid, but it didn't fully matter at the moment. The fact remained that he was still exactly that-a kid. He didn't have to know his dark corners the intimate way Melody did-in the end, Anthony, not his father had won the battle. Anthony was going to walk away from the ordeal whole. Damaged yes, but whole. He was going to be okay. But I won't be. I never really have been, but now I'll be even farther from it. In her soul though, Melody knew if she had the chance, she wouldn't have done anything different. It was too late to save herself, there was nothing left she could have done for that. Anthony Doyle was not her though; he'd been through a hell all his own, but he didn't have to escape it with stains on his soul. He'd had a chance and Melody couldn't leave him to die like she had.
Melody sighed, the familiar weight of her secrets crushing her lungs. One of them was gone now, but two remained. James and the real story behind John Fraise's death. The last one was going to be ripped out soon and she had a feeling that would be when the final nail was placed onto the coffin where her medical career would be laid to rest. No patient in their right mind would want her to operate on their loved ones if they knew what she was really capable of.
There was a hushing of the curtain sliding back and Melody felt a smile come to her face despite the grief and dread that was polluting her body. "Short phone call," she said, "boss feeling merciful today?"
"Hello Melody."
Her eyes snapped open and Melody sat upright, chest constricting as she saw who'd come into her room. It wasn't Sharon. It was Moira. They hadn't seen each other in nine years and time had taken it's toll, her short, curly hair was more grey than blonde from the last time they'd laid eyes on each other. A hesitant smile was on her berry-colored lips and her feet shifted on the title floor.
Melody glared back at her, jaw clenching. "I don't need a liver, kidney or a bone marrow transplant," she whispered and her voice was so cold, that she could almost feel the temperature dropping in the room. "So what the hell are you doing here Moira?"
Moira Frasier's hesitant smile flickered. "The hospital called me, they told me you where shot," her voice broke. "Melody Rose Frasier what in God's name where you thinking?"
"What were you thinking when you decided to come here?" she shot back, the words stiff and colder still. "What made you think I'd want to see you?"
"You were shot," Moira repeated again, fiddling with the strap of her black handbag. That, along with the crisp blouse and that it was Sunday all suggested she'd come from a service at her church. "Children need their mothers when they're sick and I know you hate me, but I'm still your mother whether you like it or not. And you're still my daughter and I still love you, no matter what you feel for me." Her lower lip trembled
Really? Melody thought, venom eroding the cold anger she'd felt moments before. "I've been sick before," she said softly, her voice trembling with rage and her heart began to beat hard and fast in her chest. "I've been injured before."
Pain flashed across Moira's face and she looked away from Melody, sighing heavily. "I know that. And I'm sorry. I've never stopped being sorry."
"Is that all you can say?" Melody asked, "'Sorry'? That's really the best you can do?"
"There's nothing else I can do," Moira said, squaring her shoulders. Melody had never seen her use that gesture before, in her experience, when faced with confrontation, Moira Frasier didn't stand strong, she cowered in fear. "I can't go back in time, I can't change what happened. I wish I could. I would if I could. I would do better, I'd be a better mother to you then, but it's not possible. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry that all I can do is say I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took so long for me to chose you but I'm here now Melody. I'm here and I'm trying." She moved towards her, the hard-soles of her shoes clicking on the floor and she grabbed Melody's hand imploring but she yanked her hand away.
"If you ever touch me again," she growled, breathing hard and blood roaring her ears. "I swear to God I'll break your arm."
"Melody-."
"Sorry isn't enough," Melody said, her mind flashing with hundreds of memories. Sorry didn't erase the fear she'd felt for over a decade every time she walked through the doors of her own house. Sorry didn't take away the nights she'd cried herself to sleep, in agony and unable to do anything about it. Sorry didn't get rid of the scars on her back and chest. Sorry didn't stop the nightmares she still had. Sorry didn't give her back the twenty-three years she'd spent being terrified to touch people. Sorry didn't take back the pain she'd felt when James told her she was beautiful and all the times she hadn't been able to believe him.
"Melody," Moira's voice was small and Melody saw tears leaving black streaks of mascara down her face. "Please-."
"You don't get to ask me for anything." Melody spat. "How many times did I beg you to leave John? How many times Moira?"
"I know and-."
You don't know anything! Moira still didn't understand, she still wanted to bury the past like it was nothing. Once a coward always a coward. "How many nights did I have to scrub my own blood off the kitchen floor, barely able to move because my back was ripped apart again? How many times did you hear me scream? How many times did John hold me up by my throat and I passed out because I couldn't breathe? How many times did he strap me to the fucking dinner table and cut me open just to stitch me back together again? How often did that happen Moira? Tell me, were you just too drunk or did you just not care? Or was it both? I still don't know."
"I cared Melody, I did. I was just afraid." Moira spoke quickly, afraid to get cut off. If she thought her words would reassure Melody she was dead wrong, they did nothing to calm her down, they only enraged her further.
"You were afraid?" Melody said, words dripping with sarcasm as anger boiled her blood. "God I wonder what that was like! Oh wait! I do know what that's like. I was afraid to go home every day after school. I was afraid every time your husband walked into the house. I was afraid he was going to kill me. And he almost did, or were you too drunk to remember that happening too?"
"I remember Melody," Moira was weeping now, tears smearing her makeup all over her face. "I've remembered everything every day of my life and it's my biggest regret. If I could do anything over-."
"But you can't. You can't change the past anymore than I can get rid of all these scars. Such a pretty daughter you got, huh Moira? Aren't I just lovely?" Moira winced again and Melody relished in it. How does it feel? she wanted to ask. How does it feel when someone who's supposed to love you watch you fall to pieces and do nothing?
"M-Melody-..."
"You didn't care about me then," Melody jerked her gaze away from Moira who was starting to tremble. "You have no right to care about me now. Get out." There were only two people who had a right to be here now, one of them was down the hall calling her pissed off boss, another was in Wakanda.
"Melody-."
"It's Doctor Frasier." She said, Moira didn't have a right to call her by her full name, nor a shortened version of it. That implied affection and she'd proven time and again she had none for her daughter. "Get out before I call security and have you removed."
Moira backed away, her footsteps accompanied by the soft sobs escaping her. Pathetic, like always. Time might have changed that fact that she was a drunk, but at her core, Moira Frasier was still the same woman who'd left Melody to die in her own home and then left her to face the world alone after her husband died. "Melody," she whispered. "It's okay if you hate me. I'll never stop being your mother and-."
She shouldn't have risen to the bait, but Melody had to. She had no more control, years and years of unsaid words were bubbling up in her mind and coming out of her mouth. There was one more thing she had to say, one last thing she needed to know. "If you're my mother, then why didn't you love me?"
The questions burned Melody's throat but still, she had to know. Unless some medical crisis arose for the woman, Melody was going to make sure their paths never crossed again. This was the question that had hurt her the most throughout her life. Moira hadn't been much of a mother, but she'd never hurt Melody the way John had. She'd said she loved her-something John never had. It wasn't true, actions spoke louder than words, but that wasn't enough for Melody. She had to know why, know now while she had the chance to ask.
Moira stopped walking but the sound of her sniffling didn't cease. "I did love you. I love you now."
"Then why did you leave me there?" Melody asked, the anger draining from her and being replaced with the raw, unflitered pain she had avoided for so long. "Why didn't you chose me?"
"Melody, I-."
"Forget it," suddenly, on the precipice of the answer, Melody found she didn't need it. It didn't matter now. It was all too late. "Just go."
"Melody-."
"Go. I don't want you here."
Moira's lower lips trembled again and as she left, Melody watched her go. Maybe she would live a better life now that she was sober, but even if she did, Melody wanted no place it in. There was no way for that to work. Too much had happened, too much hurt remained. There could be an truce, an uneasy peace, but not forgiveness. Not for her part anyways. Melody wasn't that strong.
As Moira left, Melody noticed that someone was outside. Sharon and she was holding her phone, the black screen visible and tears running down her face. "Mel..." she hurried into the room, her voice hushed and her shaking hand curling near her mouth. "Mel, oh God. I never...I should never have told you to talk to her, I didn't...Mel." Her blue eyes filled with tears and her hand clamped over her mouth. "I..."
Melody pressed a button on her bedside and there was a whir of machinery as the bed began to sit upright. "You're my family," she whispered. "And I love you. And you look like you need another hug." Melody lifted her arms as best she could with the IV and monitors attatched to her. "Come here."
Sharon shook from head to foot and grasped Melody in a hug that was more like clinging to her than anything but it wasn't bothersome. "It's okay," Melody whispered into Sharon's shoulder though it was a lie. Nothing was okay, not really and it wouldn't be now that one of secrets was fully out in the open; the truth about who John Friaser was. But she'd deny that truth for now, for Sharon's sake. This was the one truth she'd be able to comfort her through as it came to light, the same couldn't be said for later. "You're my family," Melody said again, her eyes burning. And you always will be, even if I'm not yours anymore.
New chapter! We've heard alot about her, but now we've finally met her, Moira Frasier is here at least! What'd we think? I'd love to know so please leave a review! Thanks for reading! :)
