AN: This is an alternative version. I like bits and pieces of Both. Might play around with them.
First two paragraphs are the same, only the setting is different.
Mel sat in the locker room; her usual bubbly energy replaced by a vacant stare. The anniversary of her father's death weighed heavily on her, amplifying the sting of the recent events at the crime scene. The distraught family member pushing past her to reach the body replayed in her mind. She hadn't physically messed up, but she hadn't been strong enough, fast enough. It was a rookie mistake, the kind she shouldn't be making. She could still see the disappointment etched on Frankie's face, a look that cut deeper than any harsh words.
She had grown accustomed to pitying glances and hushed whispers, the unspoken condolences for her past. People often treated her with kid gloves, assuming she couldn't handle the harsh realities of the job. Frankie was different. Frankie didn't coddle her, didn't make excuses. And while Mel craved that kind of respect, the sting of Frankie's silent disapproval still lingered, a stark reminder of her own perceived shortcomings.
Frankie, passing by the open doorway, caught sight of Mel's vacant stare and felt a pang of concern. Gathering her courage, she stepped inside. "Hi," she began softly, "I just wanted to apologise for exploding at you earlier. It had nothing to do with you. I was having a rough day and... I'm sorry."
Mel slowly lifted her eyes to meet Frankie's, her expression weighed down by a profound sadness that churned Frankie's stomach with guilt.
Mel's gaze remained steady, forcing Frankie to break eye contact. "So, all this time you didn't know?... about my dad?" Mel interjected, her tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Before Frankie could respond, Mel continued, "Does that mean you're going to be nice to me now?"
Frankie felt discomfort wash over her, her mortification palpable. "I'm so sorry," she muttered.
But Mel seemed unfazed by Frankie's apology. "Please don't change," she implored. "You were the only person that treated me like a normal person. Didn't feel sorry for me. Didn't make excuses for me. I really need that."
Frankie's confusion melted away as she realised the depth of Mel's words. Her heart ached for the young woman before her, understanding the weight of her plea. With a heavy sigh, Frankie nodded, a silent promise to remain true to herself, even in the face of adversity. "I won't," she promised. "Hey, how about we get out of here? My treat."
A flicker of surprise crossed Mel's face, followed by a hesitant smile. "Okay," she agreed quietly.
Moments later, they found themselves in the dimly lit ambiance of a local pub. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the police station. Yet, a palpable tension lingered between them, an unspoken acknowledgement of the emotional conversation that had just transpired.
Mel appeared lost in her own thoughts, her expression distant and pensive. Frankie's gaze darted around the room. As she lifted her glass, the gentle clink against the table seemed to shatter the silence that enveloped them. Mel, lost in her own thoughts, suddenly spoke up, her he voice cutting through the quiet like a sharp blade.
"You're dating Mr. Boyd," Mel remarked. "Did you meet at work?"
A faint smile played on Frankie's lips, but the hesitation in her eyes betrayed the complexity of her emotions. "Yeah," she replied, her voice carrying a casual tone that masked the deeper intricacies of her relationship. "How long have you been going out?" Mel inquired, her tone sincere, her eyes searching Frankie's face for answers.
Frankie deliberated for a moment, considering how much she should reveal. "Not long," she finally responded, her words measured. "Six months."
"Is he... are you guys happy?" Mel pressed, her genuine concern hanging in the air like a delicate thread. She took a sip of her drink, licking her lips nervously as she awaited Frankie's answer.
Frankie's smile broadened at the inquiry, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity as she met Mel's gaze.
Caught off guard by Frankie's reaction, Mel quickly sought to backtrack, her words tumbling out in a rush of apology. "Sorry... it's just... I used to be friends with his son and -"
Frankie's understanding nod interrupted Mel's apology, her voice soft with empathy as she acknowledged Mel's past connection to Boyd's family. "He told me what good friends you were. It sounds like you meant a lot to Joe."
Mel's eyes welled with unshed tears at Frankie's words, a mixture of gratitude and grief washing over her. Her voice trembled slightly as she replied, "Yeah, I thought I did." With those words, she brought her glass to her lips and took two huge gulps, the cool liquid offering a fleeting moment of solace.
Frankie observed Mel's actions, noting the nervous energy radiating from her as she kept the glass pressed to her lips. Sensing her discomfort, Frankie decided to shift the conversation, hoping to ease the tension that had settled between them.
"So, how did you end up at the station?" Frankie asked gently.
Mel continued to spin the glass between her fingers, a nervous habit that betrayed her inner turmoil. "I wasn't supposed to..." she began, her voice trailing off briefly before she gathered her thoughts. "I was going to finish my last year in Uni, and then... I was going to go with my band to California, write songs, find a label."
Her words carried a hint of wistfulness, a glimpse into the dreams that had once fuelled her aspirations. Mel's gaze drifted to the glass in her hand, her fingers tracing its rim as memories of her father flooded her mind.
"My dad, before he... he told me to get my head out of books and chase my dreams..." A faint smile touched her lips, a bittersweet reminder of the man she had lost. "Funny guy, isn't he?"
But Frankie's solemn expression reminded Mel of the weight of her responsibilities, the burden of expectations that now rested upon her shoulders. "I just needed to stay home, be serious," she admitted regretfully.
Without another word, Mel took another sip of her drink, the liquid disappearing almost entirely as she sought solace in its numbing embrace.
Frankie's heart clenched at the weight of Mel's revelation, the stark contrast between expectation and reality leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. As they sat in the pub, enveloped in the heavy silence that followed Mel's confession, the arrival of Boyd offered a welcomed diversion from the sombre atmosphere.
Boyd's entrance drew Frankie's attention away from their conversation, his warm smile injecting a sense of levity into the air. He approached their table with an easy grace, his presence a comforting presence amidst the tension that lingered between Frankie and Mel.
"Hi," Boyd greeted warmly, his gaze catching the reddened cheeks and tear-filled eyes that betrayed Mel's inner turmoil. Sensing her discomfort, Boyd moved to alleviate the awkwardness, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair.
Mel offered a hesitant half-smile in return, her instinct urging her to retreat and leave them to their conversation. "I should go, you guys have stuff to catch up on," she suggested, but Boyd and Frankie were quick to reassure her.
"You don't have to go," Boyd urged kindly, echoing Frankie's sentiment. "Let me get us some drinks."
With a grateful nod, Mel settled back into her seat as Boyd made his way to the bar. Frankie, sensing the need to change the subject, turned to Mel with a curious expression. "So, what kind of music does your band play?" she inquired, her voice lightening with genuine interest.
As they continued to chat, Boyd returned with their drinks, seamlessly joining the conversation. The trio delved into discussions about music, sharing stories and anecdotes from their pasts. Laughter rang out, filling the air with a sense of camaraderie and ease.
As the evening wore on, Mel's glass emptied while Boyd and Frankie's remained half full. Sensing her need for a refill, Mel offered to fetch more drinks, but Boyd and Frankie declined, signalling that they would be leaving soon. With a nod of understanding, Mel made her way to the bar, leaving Boyd and Frankie to exchange a meaningful look.
Once Mel was out of earshot, Frankie leaned in closer to Boyd, her expression earnest. She explained how she had apologised to Mel and recounted their earlier conversation, expressing her feelings of guilt and the desire to offer Mel some support.
Boyd listened intently, his gaze softening with understanding. "You did the right thing, Frankie," he reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently.
"I'm not so sure about that," Frankie replied, her eyes flicking in the direction of the bar. Boyd followed her gaze, but his view was obstructed by the crowd. "She just downed a shot."
Boyd smiled reassuringly at Frankie's concerned state before turning his attention to the situation with Mel. "It's only a shot," he remarked calmly, his tone indicating a desire to downplay the situation.
Frankie shook her head slightly. "Boyd, she's been downing them like a thirsty puppy lapping up water after a long romp in the park." she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and admiration. "I didn't think she had it in her."
Boyd nodded in understanding. "Well, let this be her last," he suggested gently. "We can drop her off home."
Mel returned to the table, her movements slightly unsteady. Boyd smoothly shifted the conversation to the officers in Mel's team, asking Mel to share her thoughts on them. Frankie provided her own input, creating a lively exchange as they discussed various colleagues.
As they chatted, Frankie and Boyd became engrossed in their conversation, temporarily forgetting their initial concern for Mel. Time passed quickly, the warmth of camaraderie enveloping them in a comfortable bubble amidst the pub's bustling atmosphere.
Meanwhile, Mel sat quietly, watching them with a slight sway to her movements. She finished her drink before they finished theirs, her eyes wandering back to the bar.
Sensing that it was time to leave, Frankie and Boyd exchanged a glance, their concern for Mel palpable in the air. Sensing it was time to depart, they both hastily downed the rest of their drinks, a silent signal between them.
"Hey, we're heading out now. Need a lift?" Frankie offered; her tone gentle yet tinged with worry.
Mel hesitated for a moment, her words slightly slurred as she replied, "Oh, thanks... I'm gonna stick around for a bit longer. But thanks anyway."
Boyd caught the hesitation in Mel's voice, his concern growing. "It won't be a problem; where do you live? Or do you want to go home? On Haslemere Road?" he asked, trying to offer a solution.
Mel's expression flickered with a moment of pure horror at Boyd's mention of her family home address. "No, no... I'm fine, really. I'll just stay for another drink and then head home. Thank you, bye," she insisted, as she grabbed her belongings and made her way to the bar.
At the bar, Mel slumped slightly against the counter, waiting for the barmaid to get to her. Boyd glanced over at Frankie, a silent conversation passing between them. He couldn't shake the feeling that if it were Joe in this state, he'd want someone to stay. "She said one more drink. We'll wait," he decided quietly, his gaze fixed on Mel.
Only, it wasn't just one drink; she went on to have two more neat whiskeys, causing Boyd and Frankie to slide into the seats on either side of Mel, their presence a silent yet firm gesture of support. Mel looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "You guys... still here?" she mumbled; her words slightly muffled.
"Want a drink?" she offered, attempting to raise her hand, but Boyd reached over, his hand gently covering hers. "Mel," he began, his tone soft yet laced with concern, "Maybe it's time to go home."
Mel shook her head adamantly, her voice trembling as she spoke. "No... I don't want to go home. I'm fine here," she insisted, her fingers clutching onto her earring.
Frankie sat by helplessly, unsure of what to say or do in the face of Mel's obvious distress. But before she could intervene, Boyd's fatherly instincts kicked in, taking charge of the situation.
With a gentle yet firm tone, Boyd addressed Mel directly, his voice laced with empathy. "You're far from fine, Mel," he said softly. "Losing your father is something you don't just get over."
Thick, heavy tears welled up in Mel's eyes, cascading down her cheeks as she finally allowed herself to confront the depths of her grief. "I'm so sorry you're experiencing this. I'm sorry for the terrible pain you're going through," Boyd continued, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of Mel's turmoil.
Through her tears and ragged breaths, Mel managed to speak. "I'm okay most days," she confessed, her voice trembling. "It's just today... it's exactly one year since he died."
As Mel's words settled into the space between them, Boyd and Frankie shared a quick look, acknowledging and understanding Mel's behaviour. In that shared glance, they found a mutual understanding of the depth of Mel's grief and the significance of the anniversary she faced.
Boyd gently rubbed her hand with his thumb, offering silent support as Mel's words hung heavy in the air. "It hit me all at once, how much I miss him," she whispered.
Seeing Mel take deep breaths and wipe the tears from her face, Boyd spoke softly, his tone filled with empathy. "You shouldn't have to face this alone," Boyd said softly, his eyes meeting Mel's with understanding. "Let's go home, Mel. Your mum will want to be with you today."
She shakes her head no again, "no, no please no I can't... we're not talking right now... I'm crashing with a friend."
Boyd hesitated, his expression a complex mix of concern and uncertainty. "I understand things might be complicated right now, Mel," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But whatever happened, I'm sure your mum would want you home safe tonight."
Mel's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "It's not just complicated," she retorted, her voice catching with emotion. "She moved on way too fast... with her."
Frankie and Boyd exchanged a startled glance. "With...who?" Boyd questioned cautiously, a sense of foreboding growing in his gut.
Mel's chin lifted defiantly. "Roz," she spat with venom. "Sergeant Roz Cooldridge. Our family liaison officer. She's with her." Her voice cracked as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
Frankie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her heart aching for Mel. A sense of foreboding washed over her as she realized the depths of Mel's unspoken pain. Should she intervene, or was this a private family matter?
Boyd's expression softened as the gravity of the situation settled over him. He hesitated, unsure how to navigate this newfound sensitivity. A heavy silence settled over them, punctuated only by Mel's quiet sobs.
After a long moment, Boyd spoke, "Mel, I... I had no idea," he murmured.
Mel simply shook her head, unable to speak further.
Frankie, finally finding her voice, reached out to Mel, her touch gentle. "Mel," she began, her tone laced with heartfelt concern, "Would you like to come back to my place? Just for tonight?"
Mel hesitated for a moment, then slowly nodded, a flicker of relief washing over her tear-streaked face. Boyd rose and, without further discussion, slipped a supportive arm around Mel's shoulders, silently guiding her towards the exit of the pub.
In the shadowy confines of Frankie's living room, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Mel sat alone on the sofa, surrounded by the encompassing darkness. The folded-up blanket and pillow remained undisturbed. For a while, Mel had managed to keep her emotions in check, holding back the floodgates of grief. But now, with the assurance that Boyd and Frankie were likely asleep, she found herself unravelling. Silently, tears streamed down her cheeks, sobs racking her body as the anguish she had suppressed for so long spilled forth.
In Frankie's bedroom, Boyd lay awake, his mind ablaze with a swirl of conflicting emotions. He had intended to leave, but Frankie's unspoken plea for his presence had been too strong to ignore. Now, with her nestled against him, her steady breathing a soothing balm, he should have felt a sense of peace. Instead, his heart ached for Mel.
The memory of her tear-stained face, the depth of her pain, pierced him to the core. It wasn't merely sympathy he felt, but a searing rage towards Caleb. Images flickered through his mind: a younger Mel, full of life, chasing after Joe, their laughter echoing through the house. How could a father abandon that?
How could anyone inflict such profound pain on their own child? The selfishness of the act was unfathomable to Boyd, and his anger simmered just below the surface.
As he listened to Mel's laboured breathing from the other room, Boyd's anger ignited. He wasn't just angry for Mel, but also with her mother, Naomi. How could she move on so quickly, so insensitively? The thought of her betrayal, compounding Mel's pain, made a growl rumble deep in his throat.
But even stronger was his rage towards Roz. As a fellow officer, she should have known better! His fingers tightened around Frankie's hand, the urge to confront her overwhelming. Yet, a flicker of doubt crept in... wasn't he being a hypocrite? He was in no place to judge, burdened by his own secrets.
The internal battle waged within him, mirroring the turmoil he knew Mel was experiencing. A glance towards the living room sealed his decision. He couldn't solve big problems tonight, but he could offer this small act of kindness.
Easing himself away from Frankie, he carefully placed her arm on the bed, her soft murmur in his ear a bittersweet pang. Pulling on a t-shirt, he padded silently towards the sofa.
Mel sat hunched over, her body wracked with sobs. As he lowered himself beside her, a startled gasp escaped her lips. Before she could question him, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
As a tremor ran through Mel's body, Boyd instinctively drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace. To his relief, she didn't resist, but instead leaned into him, her sobs gradually quieting as she found solace in his presence. With a tender touch, he stroked her hair, offering silent reassurance and comfort in the face of her pain.
As Mel's breathing slowed and her body relaxed, Boyd continued to hold her, a steady presence in the darkness of the room. Eventually, exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep in his arms. Carefully, Boyd eased her down onto the sofa, tucking the blanket around her to keep her warm.
With one last lingering glance at Mel's sleeping form, Boyd quietly made his way back to the bedroom. A slight hesitation washed over him before he slipped under the covers beside Frankie. Her warm body pressed against his was a stark contrast to the lingering chill of the other room, making him acutely aware of his actions and the complex emotions swirling within him.
Frankie stirred, half-awake, and mumbled a question, her voice heavy with sleep. "Everything okay?" She squeezed his arm gently.
"Yeah," Boyd murmured, returning her squeeze. "Just checking on Mel."
Frankie made a soft sound of understanding , then nestled back against him, her body a welcome source of warmth.