Chapter Text
OCTOBER
“You good to stitch this while I wash up?”
Mel wipes at her sweaty forehead with the back of her arm, slippery blood coating her hands. The procedure got messier than expected, and with gloves being stretched thin across the different bases, you had to get real comfortable with blood on your bare skin.
“Yeah, of course. Need to practice my knots anyway.”
Malcom, the older WLF soldier, lays back on the bed, shirt cut away and blood coating his abdomen. A bullet caught him in the side, going right through his front and leaving out his back. If he got medical attention right away it would have been fine, but his thinner skin and continued combat just made the wound deeper, ripping right through his side. The two holes he would have had were now one big gash that needed to be stitched.
“Be sure you make all them bows pretty, doc.” Malcom grins at you, his chuckles stuttering into a nasty cough.
Your eyes roll as you turn to the surgical cart next to you, setting up the sutures. “Sure thing, Malcom.”
Wheeling the table over to the bedside, you grab the curved needle and sterile thread, sitting on a stool next to his bedside to get a good angle on him. You grunt and stretch your left leg out stiffly under the cot, trying to release some of the tension in the muscle.
“You know, they should give you one of those punch cards for coming in so often. Visit us five times and you get a treat on the sixth.”
He squints at you, wincing and cursing when you push the needle through his swollen skin.
“Yeah? And when’s that lesson on bedside manner comin’?”
Mel laughs from the back room, washing and disinfecting her hands. “Oh, this is as good as it gets.”
Flashing a grumbling Malcom a smile, you continue your stitching, doing a row of smaller ones that you need to cut off and tie after each knot.
You’re getting the hang of it, though tying all the small knots with the forceps was your weakest point. You were much better at doing running stitches, but for a wound like Malcom’s on such a mobile part of his body, these were the best option. You’d obviously improved enough though, or else Mel wouldn’t have let you do them mostly unsupervised.
She’s a good teacher, Mel. You were hoping when Isaac approved your request to move to the medical centre that he would assign you to her. It only made sense. Not only was she one of the best here at the Stadium, but the two of you were already familiar with each other.
You share one of the Stadium apartments, have done for just over a year and a half. As far as roommates went, Mel was amazing. She’s friendly, respectful of your space, quiet. It was hard not to become friends with her. You spent late nights talking, would join her and her group of friends for meals. It was nice.
And then you got injured. Well, a bit more than injured—you fucked up your leg pretty bad. Mel was on call when you were dragged in and helped you as much as she could. She’s incredibly talented. Quick hands and quicker thinking. She had your broken leg splinted up and healing in no time.
Until you fucked it up again, leaving your leg to fuse itself in a weird spot. You can walk, sometimes even run for a bit if it’s a good day, but you’d be biting back the pain and severely regretting it afterwards. On a bad day? It’s a struggle to even stand for more than a couple of hours.
Now you have a limp that won’t go away, and your position as one of WLF’s many grunts taken away from you.
“We need soldiers, not bait. Next time you come asking me for your rank back, make sure you’re not shaking from your walk down the hall.”
Yeah.
Mel was the one to suggest becoming a medic. You’d spent enough time around Mel to pick up a thing or two, and those ten weeks in and out of the medical tent made you pretty familiar with the goings on. She even offered to be your supervisor, taking you under her wing to teach you all she knew.
You clip the final suture, placing the forceps and scissors back onto the metal tray next to you.
“Okay, I think we’re done. Mel,” you call over your shoulder, “Can you check this for me?”
Mel looks up from the chart she’s scribbling on, tucking it under her arm to come and lean over your shoulder.
“Nice work. You lost a bit of tension in the middle, but not too much that it wont hold.” She reaches over, ghosting over the segment in question. She brings her hand to rest on your shoulder. “Otherwise, they’re perfect. I think you’ve officially gotten the hang of it.”
You beam up at her, chest puffing in pride. It’s been good knowing that you’re good at more than combat. A relief. You don’t know what you would have done if this didn’t work out.
You’d rather not think about it.
Malcom shifts on the cot, twisting his body to look down at his stitches. He reaches a hand down to touch them, but you slap them away before he can.
“Touch them and I’ll put a cone on you like a dog.”
Malcom grins, laughing and rubbing at the red slap mark on his hand.
“You flirtin’ with me, doc?”
“Gross. Get out of here, Mal.”
His laughs once again devolve into gargling coughs, levering himself up off the bed with a hand from Mel.
She wraps him up, bandaging the wound while giving him the rundown.
“No getting this wet for twenty-four hours. After that you can shower, but no soaking. You’ll need to come back in two weeks to get the sutures out, so until then I don’t want you touching it or picking at the scabs.” She gives him a pointed look, and he has enough in him to look away guiltily, scratching at his chin.
“Yeah, I know the drill. Any sign of infection I’ll come back.”
Mel nods, stepping away from his side to grab a small bottle of pills off the counter.
“Take two of these when you need them, but wait four to six hours in between.”
“Got anything stronger?” Malcom winks.
“Not for you.” Mel’s lips twitch in a smile and she presses the bottle to his chest. “Have a good one, Malcom.”
Malcom takes the bottle and grins, bringing a hand up to tip an imaginary hat on his head. “Appreciate all you do for us, doc.” He peers around Mel, calling out to you in the next room. “And always a pleasure seein’ you. Remind me to take you up on that treat next time.”
“Goodbye, Malcom.” You call from the sink, scrubbing down on your knuckles. You stare him down as he leaves, laughing the whole way.
You roll your eyes, turning back to washing the blood off your arms. It had started to dry, making your skin tacky and gross.
Mel wanders over, leaning to rest against the sink next to you as she finishes filling out Malcom’s chart. “He’s got a point. You’ve got to be nicer to patients.”
“Malcom’s a dirty old dog. He’s fine. If he wasn’t going to be okay, then I’d be nicer.”
“The severity of someone’s injury doesn’t factor into how nice you are to them.” She’s trying to tell you off, but you can see her smiling from behind her clipboard.
You just shrug, turning off the tap and shaking out your arms. “Seems fair to me.”
She breaks, snorting and poking you in the side with the board as she walks past, placing it on a hook on the wall. She grabs the metal tray and wheels it away to be sanitised.
“You’re done for the day. Go home and relax, your leg is shaking like crazy.”
You look down at your leg, sighing as you watch the muscle of your calf twitch from the strain. It wasn’t too crazy today, but there was a lot of sitting down and standing back up. You were starting to feel it.
“You sure? If I’m sitting, I can- “
Mel cuts you off with her signature ‘excuse me?’ look, her brow raised, and her lips curled downward. That shuts you up real quick, as it does most people. Poor Owen is on the other end of that look too often, and he pouts for ages afterwards every single time.
You grab your coat from a basket under the sink, where you all put your belongings when you clock in.
“I’ll see you for dinner?”
Mel shakes her head, gathering up all the dirty tools and putting them in a metal tub for sanitation.
“I’m going to Owen’s tonight. We have the morning off tomorrow, so I think we’re going to head to the aquarium with Alice.”
You smile, throwing your coat back on. “That’ll be nice. I know Alice was antsy about getting out of the kennel when I saw her yesterday.”
Mel chuckles, “That’s how she gets you. You know she has to go on a diet because people keep giving her treats?”
You laugh along with her, the zip lock bag of jerky you save just for Alice burning in your coat pocket.
Coming up behind her, you press a chaste kiss to the back of Mel’s head as you pass. “Well, have fun. Drink responsibly. Use protection- “
“Shut your mouth right now.“ She hisses, whipping her head around to see who’s around to hear. She’s in the middle of cleaning up, but you know you’d get a punch right across your shoulder if she had a hand free.
Pulling back the tent flap you wave goodbye to Mel, grinning at her flushed face.
“I’ll see you when you get back!”
Swinging by the front you sign out for the day, writing down your reasoning for clocking off early. You only had two hours left of your shift, and you really do think you could have lasted if you were allowed to sit the rest of the day. But what Mel says goes, as both your supervisor and your doctor.
The sun is setting when you leave the tent, the November air nipping at your skin. Winter is right around the corner, and you can already feel it. You’ll need to take up Mel’s offer of making some legwarmers to wear under your clothes, knowing that the freezing temperatures are going to be hell on your leg.
Wrapping your coat further around you, you shuffle inside the stadium as quickly as you can. The caf should just be starting to serve dinner now, and if you hurry you can beat the rush before everyone clocks off.
Just as you predicted, people are already lining up at the food stations when you reach the mess hall. Each of the stalls are serving something different, though it usually all boils down to a combination of rice, meat, soup, and stew. Today it looked like everyone was lining up by the old pretzel place, which usually meant it was burritos.
You do an awkward shuffle, a small circle as you try to decide what to eat. The burritos stall is always packed for a reason, but it looks like the butchers finally got some of those pigs in-
A sharp whistle from behind you cuts through the rumble of voices.
“Hey, doc!”
You turn, looking over at the old Noodle Bowl.
A woman a bit older than you stands behind the counter, her cropped hair hidden underneath a backwards cap. Her tank top is drenched in sweat from the hot kitchen, her deep skin flushed from the heat. She holds out an opaque container, though you can already smell the rich beef stew coming from the kitchen behind her.
“Skip the line! You know medics get priority.” She grins, waving the container at you.
You smile and limp over, your leg starting to throb. You meet the woman at the counter, gently taking the container from her. It’s nice and warm in your hands, feeling them tingle as they heat up.
“Thanks, Isabella. You’re a life saver.” You sigh appreciatively. You crack the container open to peek inside, your mouth watering at the dark broth and floating chunks of potato and beef.
“You know what would be perfect with this?” You begin, looking up at her. She smirks, reaching off to the side.
“Bread?” she asks, sliding over a small parcel of tinfoil.
You gasp, reaching for it. “A woman after my own heart.” You laugh, placing the foil of bread on top of the container. “Remind me again why we didn’t work out?”
“You were way too out of my league?” Isabella teases, leaning across the counter towards you.
“Good answer.” You grin back at her.
Isabella chuckles, taking off her cap to smooth out her hair again before putting it back on.
“You take care of yourself, yeah? Enjoy.” She winks, rapping the counter with her knuckles before turning back to the kitchen.
Stew in hand, and a light blush on the highs of your cheeks, you make the long trek back to the comfort of your room. Luckily yours is only on the second floor, as opposed to being on the third or fourth, but with the escalators out of order it’s still a huge hike for you and your leg.
You end up taking your coat off to make a temporary bag for your stew, folding it up and using the arms as handles. It gives you more room to grip the rails as you need them, which becomes more and more often the higher you climb.
You’re slightly out of breath and coated in a fine layer of sweat by the time you reach your room, taking a second to catch your breath before stepping in. Maybe you couldn’t have done those last two hours. Dammit Mel for always being right.
The stew is still hot when you unwrap it from your coat, moving to hang it up on a peg near the door. If you were quick about getting changed, you could probably get away with not having to heat it back up.
Depositing the container on the dining table as you pass, you make your way over to your side of the room, having to pivot and turn back when you automatically start going down the steps.
You and Mel split the room pretty evenly, her having the slightly raised segment to herself, and you having the area in front of the window. You liked being so close to the giant windows, peeking through the curtains you both strung up when you couldn’t sleep and pressing your cheek to the cold glass on warm nights. But ever since your injury, Mel suggested the two of you swap.
It made sense, taking away as many unnecessary obstacles as possible, but you still kind of missed your old spot. Maybe if you asked ever so nicely you could swap again.
You strip in front of your wardrobe, quickly hopping into comfier clothing. It was by no means anything close to proper pyjamas, a pair of slightly more worn in cargo pants and a long sleeve henley. Something that you could feasibly run around and fight in if you needed to.
Your days as a solider are over, but old habits die hard.
The rest of your night is simple. It always is when you have the room to yourself. Having Mel around is always fun and you love staying up and talking to her, but it is nice to just be alone sometimes. It feels different, not like how it used to when you were fighting for your life before you joined WLF. You can choose to be alone now, knowing that you’re safe and warm and that your friends are just around the corner. You can enjoy it.
Setting up a CD to play some soft music in the background, you eat your dinner. Isabella had served you up richly, enough chunks of beef in your single serving to split across two. She’s always been like that, giving special treatment to those she likes and admires. Your brief but very intense history got you onto that list, and you’re thankful for every day you’re still on it.
Using the bread to soak up the last of the broth, you savour the final bite of your food. If Mel was here, you’d get to have her broth too (she only likes the chunks, apparently), but tonight you miss out.
With dinner done and nothing else to do, you decide to curl up in bed for the rest of the night, give your leg a much-needed rest. You keep the CD playing quietly and grab one of Mel’s textbooks, tossing it onto the bed.
You run through your stretches for the night, positioning yourself on the floor to bend and stretch your leg just as Pierre-- the closest thing to a physiotherapist you have around here-- showed you. It hurts like a bitch, so you give yourself some leeway tonight and stop when it gets too much.
Peeling yourself up off the floor, you practically crawl under your covers, dragging the book under with you. The book is heavy, one that would be used during school, but you’re finding it somewhat useful. A lot of what they’re talking about goes over your head, but there’s enough diagrams and things you recognise to somewhat keep up. A lot of what Mel teaches you is done through the real thing, so you don’t have a lot of time to learn the name of every single bone or nerve in the nervous system. It’s a lot more… ‘Don’t cut here’ and ‘If you don’t put pressure there, he’s going to bleed out and die’.
You fall asleep around eleven, the textbook flopping to the floor when your arms couldn’t hold it up anymore. You’ve shifted in your sleep, back facing the rest of the room and limbs tucked in. You should start looking for a thicker blanket now that it’s getting colder.
The corner of your bed dips under their weight as someone sits, trying not to squish your feet under the covers. The thumping of boots being kicked off their feet and to the floor is just enough to pull you back to consciousness, though it’s the rush of cold air under the blanket as they pull it back that wakes you up entirely.
“Abby… Cold.” You hiss, turning and trying to tug the blanket from her.
You can practically hear her eyes roll as she crawls under with you, shifting onto her side so she can press her back up against yours. It makes up for the biting cold she let in, her back strong and warm, heating you up more than your blankets ever could.
“How was patrol?” you mumble, brain still catching up.
Abby hums. “Fine. Normal.”
You nod, or think that you do. You’re so tired.
“S’good.” You yawn, burying your face into your pillow more. “Sorry Manny kicked you out.”
She shifts, her rolling muscles move against your back.
“Yeah,” she sighs, sinking into your mattress, “It’s whatever. He uh, got to the room while I was eating dinner.”
“Should talk to him. Tell him to keep it in his pants when you get home from patrols.”
You hear a ghost of a laugh, your music quiet enough for you to pick it up. It puts a sleepy smile on your face.
“I should, huh? Maybe tomorrow.”
“Mmhm.” You yawn, stretching out your legs before relaxing back into your mattress with a hum. “I’ll be your back up.”
Ever since you found Abby passed out in the library, an open copy of Lord of the Flies laid across her chest, she’s been sleeping in your room.
She rejected your offer initially, looking at you like you’d grown a second head before rolling back over to keep sleeping. Which was fair, you guessed. You weren’t exactly friends, just two people that hung out in the same group.
Not that you didn’t try to be. You knew from the moment Mel introduced you to everyone that you wanted to know more about Abby. She was intimidating, a bit rough around the edges, and more than a little cold during your first interaction. It should have been a sign to stay out of her way, to leave her alone. But unfortunately, it just made her incredibly attractive.
No matter what you did, nothing seemed to favour you to her. You eventually found out it was because of Mel, and while no one could tell you exactly what happened, you figured it was bad enough for her to dislike you through pure association.
Something must have stuck with her though, because soon after rejecting your offer she was knocking on your door, pillow tucked under her arm, ready to take over your couch.
And she did. Anytime she needed a place to sleep, and Mel wasn’t home, she would come over. You started leaving out nicer blankets, draping them over the back of the couch, switching out the throw pillows for softer, less scratchy ones. She never said anything, but you knew she appreciated it.
It wasn’t until two months ago, drunkenly collapsing on your bunk together after Manny’s birthday party, that you started sharing your bed. The nightmares you would have, that the both of you shared in common, seemed to fade away when you weren’t alone.
A silent agreement passed between the two of you then, an unspoken arrangement to slide in next to each other. Backs pressed together, sharing your warmth, getting hours of blissful sleep.
You feel a nudge to your calf.
“Go back to sleep. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” She whispers, drawing her foot back to curl into herself. The movement presses her back more firmly into yours. A contented sigh tumbles from your lips.
“You’re fine. G’night, Abby.”
“… Night.”
You both fall into comfortable silence, the soft music still playing from the corner of your room. The CD will finish soon, but you should hopefully be asleep by then.
You wait for the telltale signs of a sleeping Abby before you let yourself fall back under.
While the nightmares aren’t as intense when you share the bed, all it takes is a particularly bad day for them to rear their ugly head. And while you have your own long list of issues, you’re not the one still in active duty, so you like to make sure that Abby falls asleep. That she isn’t left to stare into the dark until the sun begins to rise, or gets dragged into whatever hell her brain has fixed up for her.
Her breathing eventually slows, and while she doesn’t snore, her deep breaths are interrupted with the occasional huff and groan. The pressure of her warm back on yours builds as her muscles relax and she shifts into the divot in the mattress between you. Her foot twitches and she shuffles her legs, unconsciously nudging you to entangle your legs with her own.
Only when you are certain she’s out and her sleep is peaceful do you let yourself go back to bed.
⸙
She’s gone in the morning when you start awake, the sound of a door down the hall slamming closed making your heart leap into your throat. Shooting upright in bed, the blanket tucked gently around you falling to your lap, you reach out for your firearm. It takes feeling the lumpy, cold mattress beneath your fingers to bring you back to yourself.
You’re in your room. Not outside hidden amongst the trees.
There are no Scars here.
Knees come up to meet your forehead as you curl in on yourself, shutting your eyes and forcing deep, shaky breaths.
It’s been months since you were on any kind of active duty, yet your body wouldn’t let you forget a second of it. Once a soldier always a soldier, you guess.
Once your heartrate slows back down, the sweat that was beading along your temples cooling, you lift your head up from your knees, peaking at the curtains. The morning sun is breaking through, sending slivers of light over Mel’s bed and the couch. If you strain your ears, you can hear people shuffling in the hallway, tired grumblings as they make their way into work.
Without checking a watch you’d say it was around eight in the morning.
Mel wasn’t scheduled for work until tonight, which means that you too got to have the morning off too. Though you were really getting somewhere with your training, Isaac didn’t want you working solo until Mel had signed off on you. So, unless they were absolutely swamped or it was an emergency, you worked the same shifts as Mel.
Flopping back on the mattress you shut your eyes once more, stretching out your limbs across the entire expanse of the bed. You had absolutely no issues with sharing your bed with Abby, but this mattress wasn’t exactly a king, and often find yourself tucked right up against the wall.
You doze on and off for a few more hours, taking advantage of the free day to catch up on all the sleep you’d been neglecting. It feels like you and Mel have been working around the clock lately, being assigned long shifts at odd hours. Ideally, you’d nap until your shift tonight, but your body refuses to let you sleep peacefully after 10am.
You putter around the room for a bit after dragging yourself out of bed, getting changed into your clothes for the day and drawing open the large curtains to let the sunlight into your room. The rays warm you as you do your morning stretches, flexing and pulling your leg into repetitive positions.
You so desperately want to just laze on the couch, curl up with a book or a magazine and rest your leg, but looking around the room you spot multiple piles of belongings neither your nor Mel have bothered to tidy up. Knowing the two of you, they’ll never get done if you don’t tackle them now. And who knows, maybe Mel will be so impressed that she really will swap spots with you.
You stomach begins to rumble around lunch time, just as you’re standing up from the CD rack you spontaneously decided to reorganise. Sure, there was probably something more important to do, but now your CDs are back to being in alphabetical order. For now, atleast.
Checking the fridge, you grimace at the lack of edible food left on the shelves. A withering carrot, some marmalade, and leftover rice and beans from a few nights ago make up its contents.
Sighing, you shut the door and grab your jacket. You’ll just get something from the cafeteria. Maybe when Mel comes home you can figure out her schedule, see if she’ll be willing to split some groceries with you.
⸙
“Hey, doc! Come sit with us, huh?” A voice calls out to you as you walk past their table, a container of stir fry hot in your hands.
You swivel around, eyes roaming the few tables in front of you when you spot Manny, waving you over. He’s seated with a few other soldiers, some you recognise from prior hangouts, others that must be part of his unit.
You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you toss up between sitting in the cafeteria with company or scampering off to your room to eat in private. Not that you don’t like sitting with Manny and his friends. They can just get real rowdy sometimes without Mel or Nora around to talk to.
You open your mouth to politely decline, wanting to chill as much as you can before your shift tonight, when the person opposite Manny turns around to look at you.
Abby.
She looks good this morning. Her usual braid is draped over her shoulder, getting long enough now to do so. It brushes the collar of her t-shirt, the sleeves of which she’s rolled up to the seam to fit her arms. She’s holding a bowl of rice up to her chest, spoon hanging out of her mouth as she looks at you.
Unable to hide the small smile that twitches your lips, you give Manny a nod and head over, weaving back through the crowded hall. Manny grins and shuffles along the bench, pushing against Jordan to make room for you next to him.
“There she is! How’s it going? Seen anything gross lately?”
You laugh, pushing yourself into your spot between him and Jordan, having to climb over the seat to get there. “Unless you count touching Malcom, then no. Not lately.”
Abby huffs a laugh around her spoon, twisting back around to face the table. You look to her as you set your container down on the table, smiling when you see she’s already looking. Her eyes flick down to your food and back to you, brows raised slightly in question.
Tilting your container you show her your lunch, the stir fry still steaming and warming your hands.
“Malcom isn’t that bad,” Manny laughs, diving back into his own food. Some sort of sandwich from the looks of it. “He’s a good shot.” He muffles through a mouthful of food.
You roll your eyes, picking up your fork and stabbing at a few vegetables, “Yeah, and a bad dodge. He keeps coming in to get stitched up, but I’m convinced it’s because he gets his chest felt up.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying his best. Not all of us are as lucky.” Manny snickers, elbowing the man beside him. The rest of the boys laugh back, the noise at the table picking up.
Abby just shakes her head, slouching over her bowl of rice to continue eating. From where you’re sitting it looks like plain brown rice. Knowing her, it probably came with a side that she’s already eaten all of, not planning out her bites ahead of time and just going right for the tasty part.
You twist to the side to face Manny, reaching up for his ear.
“Speaking of--” You pinch the top, yanking on it to bring his head down to your level. He yelps, grabbing at your wrist and swearing. “You need to stop having your play dates the same day Abby gets back from missions.”
Manny eyes you as he curses, briefly looking over at Abby before turning his attention back to you. Across from you Abby tenses, spoon pausing halfway to her mouth. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
“How’d you know I had someone over?”
You sniff, letting go of his ear and turning back to your food, getting a bite in before answering. “Caught her in the library again.” You lie, hopefully smoothly.
The two of you never agreed to keep her sleeping habits a secret, but you knew enough about her to know that she liked to keep her business to herself.
Manny grins, throwing his hands up guiltily. “What can I say? I have poor timing. Well, not all of the time...” He winks.
You fake a gag, grimacing as you pick up your food container.
“And with that, I need to go get ready for work tonight. I’ll catch you all around.”
Manny laughs, his voice booming through the hall. He playfully grabs at your sleeve, tugging it as you stand up to leave.
“Baby, don’t go! Please, I can change!” He pleads, gently trying to pull you back down to the table.
You stumble and laugh, batting his grabby hands off your clothes as you squirm away. Nearly tripping on the seat, you pry yourself free, stepping out of Manny’s range and across the table.
“Bye, Abby.”
You slide your container of food next to hers as you pass, having eaten all the vegetables and leaving her the beef. Her head whips up to yours, eyes questioning and mouth full of food. A piece of rice is stuck to her bottom lip.
Cute.
She tries to swallow her mouthful to say something, but inhales wrong in her haste, choking on rice. Manny, observing the interaction, bursts out in a fit of laughter as he slides over his canteen of water, watching Abby gulp it down to clear her throat. Some of the guys sitting next to her lean over to slap at her back, chuckling along with Manny. He’s calling her something in Spanish as she pushes all the hands away, the tips of her ears reddening as he jeers at her.
The last thing you see before the crowd shuffles and blocks your view is Abby, leaning over the table to punch Manny in the arm.
⸙
“He even said that we could decorate for Christmas. Apparently, he knows some department store that has trees and everything.” Mel gushes, setting up the surgical cart for the night.
“You two are so fucking cute.” You smile, spinning yourself in the office chair they have back here.
Mel flushes, feeling the heat of her cheeks with the back of her palms, “I just… I don’t know. I feel stupid for getting so giddy about it all but he’s just sweet, you know? Thoughtful.” She smiles softly to herself, reaching up in a cupboard for some gauze. “We haven’t even been dating a year and he’s already talking about getting new room assignments.”
“And you want that? He’s not like, pressuring you to go too fast or anything?” You slow your spin, digging your heels into the tent floor to stop to face her.
She shakes her head, laying out a handful of freshly bleached bandages and some scissors. “No, he’s been really good about it. I said that I’d like to wait until the New Year at least. Start fresh.
You nod, looking at her. Mel is a kind person, though she can be very outspoken and tough when needed -- you’ve seen this enough times when dealing with Abby or an unruly patient. But you’ve never seen her so happy. So flustered.
She giggles sometimes. Mel has never been a giggler.
Owen has been good for her. She needed someone to stop her from overworking herself, to make her feel appreciated and special, and if Owen is anything, he’s a hopeless romantic and a great distraction.
You let out a sigh, dramatically throwing you hand up to your forehead, pushing with your feet to spin on the chair.
“I can’t believe my wife is taking our child and leaving me for another! Leaving me to wallow in our shared home all alone.”
She snorts, throwing you a look over her shoulder, “Our child?”
“Alice, obviously.” You peek at her from behind your hand. “I expect visitation.”
Mel laughs, throwing her head back, “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of keeping her from seeing you.”
The room falls into a comfortable silence, Mel double checking the contents of her cart.
“Maybe when I move out you can see about getting someone else to move in so you’re not as lonely.”
You shrug, leaning your head all the way back on the headrest so it hangs over. You feel something shift and pop in your neck, a pressure fizzling away.
“Yeah, no. I’ll just live it bachelor style until someone needs the space.”
Mel hums, “So you wouldn’t even offer it to your mystery woman?”
You try so hard to school your reaction, to not make it so obvious how right she is, but it’s difficult when she gets you like that out of nowhere. You tilt your head up to look at the back of her head.
“My who?”
Mel turns around, a smirk playing at her lips. She knows she’s caught you out. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’ve been having someone over while I’m gone.”
Your cheeks pink as you go to defend yourself, but for the life of you, you can’t find a non-damning answer. You’re left stuttering, gaping like a fish.
“I- Who- You don’t know that.”
“Oh? Then why do you always ask if I plan to be home or not?”
“Can’t I be invested in your safety? As your friend- “
“And, “ she cuts you off, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the sanitation sink, “We both know you have trouble sleeping alone. But suddenly on the nights I’m gone, you come into work having slept like a baby? Nuh-uh.” She points an accusing finger your way. “You’ve got someone you’re bringing home that you’re not telling me about.”
She looks triumphant. Victorious in having called you out on your sneaking around.
Your hands come up to cover your face, hiding from her gaze.
“Mel, it’s not like that,” you groan, sliding down in your chair.
“Seems like that to me.”
“No, it’s just… we’re just friends. I’m just hanging out with a friend.”
She doesn’t believe you. You don’t have to be looking at her to know that for a fact. “And you’d be content to just… stay friends?”
“Obviously I’d be fine with whatever she wants,” you rush out, getting overwhelmed with the intimate questions.
Theres a beat of silence.
“But…” she prompts.
You throw you hands up, looking up at her, “Yes, Mel. Fine. If she was interested, I would take her up on it. Happy?”
Mel nods, pleased as punch at getting you to admit this out loud. She has a bad habit of doing that.
“So,” she breaks the silence, kicking off the bench, “Are you going to tell me who it is?”
You cringe. Seeing as they aren’t exactly on speaking terms, you doubt that she’s going to be super thrilled about Abby hanging out in her home while she’s gone.
“I… I don’t know, Mel. Sorry, I just- “
“Hey, it’s fine. I get it.” She says softly, walking over and placing a warm hand on your arm. “No hard feelings. I’m not going to be mad because you don’t want to tell me who you’re crushing on.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, sagging against the backrest of the chair. “Thanks, Mel.”
“But if you ever wanted to talk about it- “
“Yes, yes,” you wave her off, unable to help yourself from smiling, “I’ll come to you about it.”
Mel smiles, pushing you on the shoulder so that you spin around in your chair.
“Come on, time for work.”