"Bleed the Same"
Virgin River Post Ep 1×10, AU
Rating: K+
Pairing: Mel/Jack
Triggers: child loss, grief
Disclaimer: This show, it's characters and location are not mine. It all belongs to Netflix….and the universe now! ::maniacal laugh::
Author Note: All mistakes are mine as I decided to randomly come back to the working document at a crazy hour and then not have it beta'd
This work is dedicated to my friend, FiveFootTwo, who has inspired me since the first time we chatted.
"I know what I'm asking is a lot. Okay, but I... I can't ch- I can't change your past. But I wanna be a part of your future."
"I just need some time to think about this, okay?"
"Take all the time you need. I'm not goin' anywhere.
I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Everything's gonna be alright."
In the short drive back to the bar, time slows to a crawl as Jack replays the heartbreaking words of Mel's confession over and over again. A baby, she'd lost a baby. Her husband. Her baby. Jesus. He thinks back to when his sisters were each pregnant. They would email pictures of their swelling bellies and glowing smiles while he was overseas. Even just in witnessing their pregnancies through pictures he had felt and experienced the happiness with each one of them. He had watched what it meant for a woman to carry a baby for 9 months, watched his sisters transform into mothers. Oh, Mel.
A bone-deep awareness of a need to make her whole was spreading through him. The solid and resolute lines of his code of conduct were becoming perforated with each moment he spent in her company. She was filling in the spaces. Her arrival in Virgin River, the feelings for her that settled on him almost immediately had taken him completely by surprise. He had always considered himself not to be the marrying type, he had been married to the Corp and that was enough, but he wouldn't have expected himself to be so cursorily altered. And yet, here he was. Altered. He knew then that there was nothing he would deny her, nothing he would not give to her. Jack abruptly dropped his head onto his hands, gripped the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles cracked. A baby. Ah damnit he couldn't give her a baby! The astonishingly painful irony of the entire situation in which he suddenly found himself overwhelmed and assaulted Jack and a roar of frustration erupted from his mouth and his hands tightened as if he would tear the steering wheel from the column.
His breath came out through clenched teeth as he beat his hands on the wheel one last time and jumped out of his truck.
There was half a bottle of Macallan 18 nestled under the bar. He needed to think, he wanted to forget, he needed to punish himself for slipping up and getting Charmaine pregnant. The Macallan fit the bill for all of those things.
He reaches under the bar for the bottle, grabbing a glass on his way back up, eyes catching the low banked fire in the hearth of the immense fireplace. And he freezes, recalling that rainy night when he had finally been able to present the cabin to her.
***Flashback***
"Did you do this?!"
"...you like it?"
"This is incredible! How did you do this?! I mean, look at this fireplace!"
An ember popped out of the hearth startling Jack and bringing him back to the present. He scrubbed a hand hard over his face. Lord, he was tired and chilled. He moved toward an armchair in the front of the fire to sit down, the heat instantly warming. Thoughts of Mel continued to be all-consuming, Mel...was she cold? Had the fire been lit?
***Flashback***
"This is just asking too much of me, okay?
...stop, please, Jack."
She had looked so broken and sounded resolved to the despair of the whole situation. And what had he done? He'd turned and left. Told her that he wasn't going anywhere and then left her there alone in the cold, looking for all the world like she was about to drown. This wasn't right, he needed to go back to her. She had bared her soul and released that last secret. He'd left her behind.
Jack stood up so quickly the chair moving backward with the force. He exited the bar bottle still in hand, threw the truck into drive and peeled away back toward Mel's cabin.
"Christ", he thought as he took the last steps up to the cabin, she was sobbing.
Jack let himself into the cabin, with the sounds she was making propelling him forward as he set the bottle on the table. He shed his jacket and tossed it behind him, the coat landing then slumping to the floor instantly forgotten. Mel's back was to him, her attention to her surroundings clearly blurred as she held onto the bed rail choking on sobs. He'd gotten as far as lifting his hands up to place on her shoulders with the first sound of her name gently on his lips when he heard the soft, " please don't, Jack."
Given her present state, he was momentarily shocked that she hadn't startled at his sudden appearance behind her. But it was clear that she had known he was there. She took in deep breaths, valiantly attempting to find control, but didn't turn around. Jack found his own restraint, feeling like he owed her something for having intruded on this moment, she deserved the chance to calm herself and he would respect her request.
So he stood there, just inches behind her, and waited. Jack could feel and smell the tension of her emotional release. The sadness was rolling off of her in a humid vibrating wave of sweat and pine and wood smoke, and something else that was perfectly expensive. A fitting scent combination for the moment, her past merging into her present, whether she wanted it to or not. Jack inhaled, deeply, leaned closer, slowly let it out again in a soft breath that lightly ruffled the hair resting on her shoulder. Mel's shoulders rose to meet her ears and her head dropped, not really pulling away, and suddenly stepped backward meeting Jack's chest. He acknowledged her silent acceptance of his support by placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her tighter to him. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze of pressure and then slid his hands down her arms, maintaining the pressure in an attempt to ground her. His fingers laced with hers when he reached her hands and she grasped his- the work rough patches of his skin meeting with soft stretches of her long fingers.
Time moved on around them as they stood there in the heavy quiet. Her breathing slowed and calmed to match the steady deep breaths he was taking against her back. The movements and warmth of him acting as a tranquilizer. She sagged slightly. Jack felt the shift in her and decided it would be safe to move. He widened his stance to pull more of her weight against his chest and crossing their joined hands encircled her in a strong hug. He didn't know if the little sound that escaped her was from weariness or contentment so he dropped his mouth to her ear. "I've got you, Mel." his voice coming out more gravelly than he expected. He swallowed, took a breath and repeated, this time more softly, "I've got you." Jack wasn't quite sure when, but he realized he had started rocking them side to side, gently, as though he was holding a baby. And he just rocked her, continuing to softly speak reassurances into her hair. At some point, she had relaxed her head back onto his shoulder and turned her face into his neck. She was not crying anymore, her breathing was softening. He would have thought she was falling asleep except she was sliding her fingers between his in time with his rocking.
She had needed this release, he thought and had for a while. But he hated that it had come as a result of his negligence. Jack had known that there was more to her story, something more that had wounded her so much that sometimes it appeared that she was shocked to catch herself laughing. He was overjoyed at the way she was allowing him to comfort her. He breathed in the scent at her forehead and a brief low moan escaped before he could stop it. If it bothered her she didn't let on and stayed where she was.
He noticed for the first time that there were open suitcases spread out on the bed, one partially filled. And, sandwiched between them a very familiar blue flannel shirt. Jack let go of Mel's right hand, pressing their left hands firmly against her waist, his thumb hooking into her belt, and leaned them forward as he snatched the shirt off the bed. "Miss Monroe! You weren't going to steal my shirt now were you?" he said in mock seriousness, his words tickling her neck. A bright giggle erupted from her and he was so relieved to hear it he chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back.
"It smells like you."
At her words, he feels a pull run through his gut and validate what he had been sensing regarding her feelings for him. With her body snug against him, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember what had brought him here to the cabin. The urge to kiss her is rapidly increasing.
He turns her around, hands back on her shoulders, fingertips nestling in her hair. He wants to kiss her but first things first, he needs to apologize over and over. He's going to look her in the eyes and tell her how sorry he is, ask her to give him time to make things right. He speaks his request against her forehead, losing the last battle to hold back from her.
"Let me make things right." The words are a gentle plea against the warm, damp skin of her forehead. He kisses her there.
"This is where I want to be." He presses a soft kiss to her left cheek and then the right, a soft sound escapes her as his lips ghost down to the corner of her mouth and linger there.
"I'm so sorry, Mel. I'm so- " the rest of his penance swallowed by the heat of her mouth.
End
Thoughts? Rotten apples? Squishy tomatoes?