[Milliways: Suite 132]

[slayer_fray]

[OOC: After this]

Mel climbs up on to the balcony without a problem. She's still got three working limbs and her foot is already feeling better. She heals fast.

Swinging herself over the railing, she still doesn't put most of her weight on the left. It's not like she needs to put on a brave face for anyone. So she limps lightly through the living room, not noticing the blood she's treading into the carpet, and heads towards the main bathroom. If she washes in the hot tub she's less likely to be found by people she doesn't want to explain this to.

Her head is buzzing, and not because of the blows she took. Something happened, something Raph didn't seem to recognise, and she doesn't know what or why or how, and she doesn't know what it means.

All she wants is to dress her foot, take a bath, and curl up in bed. And if she can do that without needing to think about anything, then good.

Comments

[slayer_fray]

"You were?" She's happier, but not by much. It's all an effort, and he's bound to notice. "What was making you worry about that?"

[mnt_mike]

"It's okay Mel, I already know. I found the pamphlets. So you want to be a librarian. It's just a rebellious phase, and we'll work through it. I promise."

He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

[slayer_fray]

"Oh, really?" Mel asks with a faint smile, snuggling into him. "You don't mind?"

[mnt_mike]

"I love you, Mel. And if I have to prove that by still loving you as you wear knee length pencil skirts, sensible shoes, horn rimmed glasses and your hair in a severe bun, then so be it."

He turns to look at her.

"Wow, that'd be so super hot."

[slayer_fray]

She smiles up at him, and opens her mouth to reply...

...only to suddenly burst into tears.

[mnt_mike]

"Mel, baby...what's the...oh sweetie I was just kidding about the glasses and the shoes. I didn't mean it. I love your shoes and your better than average eyesight!"

[slayer_fray]

She nods against his chest, looking straight down at her foot that's still sitting on his lap.

After a few sobs, she manages: "It's not... I'm sorry."

[mnt_mike]

Mike wastes no time scooping her into his lap and holding her close.

"i don't care one way or the other. it's going to be all right."

[slayer_fray]

But what if it isn't?

What if it happens again? What if it's someone else, someone who can't look after themselves? Lilly or Ace or even Indy?

What if she doesn't wake up before delivering that final blow?

What if it never gets easier?

She just nods against his shoulder, hugging her knee with one hand.

[mnt_mike]

Mike knows one thing for sure, that this outburst of hers has nothing to do with librarian jokes. He rocks her ever so slightly.

"shhhh. let it out. it's going to be okay. i promise it's going to be okay."

[slayer_fray]

Deep breaths. Slow, deep, cleansing breaths.

Pull yourself together, Melaka

Slowly, steadily, she calms down a little, but she doesn't let go off him.

"Sorry"

[mnt_mike]

"there's nothing to be sorry about. these things happen. heck, you even chose the absolute best room in the flat for this very purpose. no better place to spring a leak than in a room with tiled floors."

He says mildly, before kissing the top of her head again.

[slayer_fray]

She laughs there, and it feels good. Just that relief, and she feels better for the crying as well.

Still just sitting, covered in blood and mud except for her foot and tear streaked face, it's comforting just to be in his arms.

But she's so scared.

[mnt_mike]

He wonders if she feels as safe in his arms as he feels holding her. So safe, that he doesn't even hesitate when instinct tells him to lean over the edge of the tub and rise the facecloth. After squeezing out the excess water he places it on the back of her neck.

Warm and soothing, he doesn't let go.

[slayer_fray]

She does.

She feels safe and secure and very nearly stable.

"Thank you."

Not for the cloth.

[mnt_mike]

"for you, the world. now take off your pants."

The buckles on her remaining boot begin to unbuckle.

[slayer_fray]

"Kay."

Sniffing loudly, she keeps one hand hooked around his neck as she obediently lifts her ass and begins to pull her pants off and over what curves she has.

[mnt_mike]

Mike picks up the discarded trousers, tossing them into one of the many hampers that line the far wall of the bathroom. He takes another facecloth from the pile at his side and dips it into the steaming bathwater. With long, gentle strokes he cleans away the grime. He takes special care as he nears the yellowing string of bruises that circle her ankle. It almost looks like she got her foot caught in a vice grip...but he says nothing

[slayer_fray]

Like a child she clings to him, sitting as she is, naked from the waist down and curled in his lap.

She doesn't even register her ankle. Her other foot is dulling away as well.

Sometimes Mel wonders how other people cope, with the pain going on for so long. As it is, she's convinced she's earned yet another scar for the collection.

But she doesn't care so much now. He's here, and he's making things better.

[mnt_mike]

Mike leaves the warmed cloth on her belly, before tipping her chin up so that their eyes meet. With a wet thumb he wipes the tracks of her tears off her cheeks.

"and now the shirt."

[slayer_fray]

She doesn't want to, not really, because that requires pulling away from him in order to shrug her arms out of the sleeves of her sweater and the black shirt underneath it.

But she does, and pulls them over her head. As she bends forward and tugs the garments over her head, he can probably see the bruises on the kidney area and back of the head, before her hair falls back and covers the latter area.

[mnt_mike]

He can and does. The tally sheet in the back of his mind continues to lenghten. Mike does his best to keep his breathing steady, to keep his face neutral, but he can't help thinking that the one that did this to her is going to pay.

Rinse. Repeat. Making sure to be ginger around the bruises as the cloth moves about her torso.

"How's the foot?"

[slayer_fray]

"Better," she says, prodding at it with the irrational curiosity of the wounded everywhere. "It may scar, but I'll live."

One of her hands snake around his waist, under his own shirt.

[mnt_mike]

He jumps slightly, her hands are just a touch colder than expected.

"Well that's good news. It's a hard time of year to find replacement girlfriends. What with the holidays and all.

Hungry?"

[slayer_fray]

"Not really," she says. When has she said anything else recently?

She just wants to stay here, with him.