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Taking Mel to a bar for karaoke night was maybe, possibly, slightly impulsive, but it was needed for both of them. Clearly, because Mel screams her lungs out cold sober and Trinity gets so shit-faced she can't even remember her own name. It's nice to see Mel let loose for once, letting her guard down and just existing with her.
By the end of the night, Trinity has no idea how she got there, but suddenly Mel is leading her up the stairs to her and Whitaker's apartment, her hand settling comfortably around her waist and Trinity hanging onto her shoulders.
“You gotta help me here, Santos,” Mel mumbles, foggy in the daze of how much alcohol is in Trinity's system.
She tries, really, she does, but she can't tell where her limbs are and she doesn't know how to control anything. “You took me home,” Trinity slurs, patting Mel's shoulder as they reach her door. “You're so sweet.”
Mel leans her a bit clumsily against the wall next to the apartment door. “Can I have your key?” she asks quietly and Trinity fumbles with her jacket pocket. She giggles as she pulls out her keys and pulls it out of Mel's reach. The woman sighs in front of her and tries to grab it out of her hands, but Trinity moves her hand in the other direction. “Santos, seriously,” Mel exclaims, but there's a fondness in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” she says and finally hands Mel her keys. She slumps down on the floor as Mel unlocks the door. “Do you know how much I needed this today? I couldn't be alone, Mel, I just couldn't.” She's rambling, she knows that, but she has no control over it and at this point, she doesn't care.
Mel handles it like a charm, all calm and soft eyes. “I know,” she says and crouches in front of her. “Come on, let's get you inside,” she says and reaches out for Trinity's hand.
She grabs Mel's hand and tries to pull herself up, but she's so tired and she feels so heavy that she almost pulls Mel down with her. Mel manages to hold onto the wall and wraps an arm around Trinity's waist, and Trinity spends the last spurt of energy to get on her feet again.
“You like me, don't you?” Trinity laughs, “You spent a whole night with me.”
Mel gets Trinity inside and kicks the door closed behind her. “Yeah, I do,” she mumbles half-heartedly and the sound is so gentle and so soothing that Trinity can't stop herself from tucking her head into the crook of her neck. “We're friends.”
Those words are so foreign to her that she starts giggling helplessly against her skin. “I don't have friends,” she says and points towards her bedroom to lead the way. “I have colleagues and I have whatever the hell Garcia is to me, and then there's Whitaker who, I don't know, he's so infuriating, but I don't think I can live without him and now he's moving out.” She doesn't mean to spill that much, but then it's out and she feels lighter.
“He's your friend, Trinity,” Mel says as she opens the door to her bedroom. It's so weird to hear her first name spoken that softly and fondly, and it makes her heart skip a beat. Trinity throws herself onto her bed, her legs hanging off the edge and feet touching the floor. She leaves Mel's comment unanswered. “I'm gonna get you some water, okay?” she suggests and all Trinity can do is nod.
She almost falls asleep, the dream waiting right behind her eyelids. But then the door opens and Mel comes in, one hand grabbing a bottle of painkillers, the other a glass of water.
“Stalker,” Trinity laughs, but accepts and gulps the water down in one go.
Mel sets the bottle of painkillers on her bedside table, and moves Trinity further into the bed. She starts untying the laces on her shoes, and pulling them off her feet. It's weird, to suddenly have someone help her when she's like this. Usually she has to drunkenly order a Lyft, and she's alone with it because Whitaker is always already asleep. She has to be alone with it, because she has no one and asking for help is too scary to be realistic.
“I’m gonna refill the glass of water, or do you have something else you want?” Mel asks quietly, standing in the door. “I was gonna leave it here so you have something to take the painkillers with when you wake up.”
Trinity turns her head away from her because the way her eyes sting is so goddamn embarrassing. “I’m not your patient, Doctor King,” she grumbles into the pillow. She can feel Mel looking at her, but she continues anyway, “but I did take a scalpel from the suture cart, so if I’d been alone tonight maybe I would have been.”
She doesn’t realize what she said until Mel sits down next to her, hand hovering over her shoulder like she isn’t sure what to do with it. “I’m glad you weren’t,” she whispers.
Trinity turns so she can look at her again. “Me too,” she says, hating the tears that threaten to fall.
Mel lets her hand rest on Trinity’s arm, her thumb stroking her wrist. It’s like she knows, somehow, that that’s where she used to cut herself; she’d only started keeping it to her thighs a few years ago when she started med school. Part of the reason was she knew that she’d never get away with wearing long sleeves working in a hospital in the summer, the other part was that that was when she started hating her body more than she already did. Her thighs always felt too floppy and shaky, and when she quit gymnastics because everything about it had been tinted with shame and guilt and pain after what happened, her body looked less like she wanted it to. It came natural to change, and in some fucked up way it hurts more on her thighs than her wrists – maybe that’s just because she wants it to, though.
Mel must take the silence as rejection, because she pulls her hand back and stands. “I should probably go,” she says. “Thank you for today though, I had a lot of fun,” – she walks to the door, then looks back. “If you ever want to talk about anything, you can.”
Trinity curses at the alcohol in her system because something makes her blurt out, “can you stay?” and Mel stops in her tracks. “I’m just… not sure I should be alone.”
Mel nods, turning back to her, eyes all kind and worried. “Yeah, of course,” she says. “You're gonna have to make space though.”
Glancing around, Trinity realizes that she is in fact taking up most of the space in her double bed and she moves to the side. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
Mel shrugs and settles in beside her. “It's okay,” she says, hand settling awkwardly on top of Trinity's. “You should get some rest.”
Trinity nods and turns around, her back towards Mel. It's been so long since she's shared a bed with someone in a way that wasn't sexual that it feels weird to feel the weight of another body beside her. “Mel?” she whispers after a moment her breath coming too quick and too hard against her heartbeat. The woman hums beside her, quiet enough that she can only feel the vibration of it. “Thank you,” is all Trinity says.
“You're welcome, Trinity,” Mel whispers in the quiet of Trinity’s bedroom.
Trinity closes her eyes, tries so hard to fall asleep, but she can’t. Not until she turns back towards Mel, and she realizes she’s watching her. It should feel creepy and scary, but it doesn’t. It feels like being known for the first time since she lost her best friend, and it makes her want to cry in the best way possible. “Can you…” she whispers, trailing off as she loses the courage to ask what she really needs from her. Instead, Trinity takes Mel’s hand with her own, turning back around and wrapping Mel’s arm around her waist.
It’s strange – being held like she’s something to be cherished by someone who she doesn’t even know whether to consider a friend or just an acquaintance. Mel’s touch is soft as silk, her hands warm against Trinity’s cold skin. Somehow, it’s enough to make her relax, and she falls asleep, her heart beating in time with Mel’s like an echo.
The first thing Trinity realizes when she wakes up is ouch. Everything hurts. From her head to her toe, everything is aching. There’s a throbbing pain in her head, as loud as her heartbeat. The second thing she realizes is that she’s not alone in her bed. There’s a weight next to her, and an arm wrapped around her waist, their hands intertwined. She doesn’t remember anything from before her shift ended, which means it’s unlikely to be Garcia next to her – That’s still the only reasonable solution.
She’s almost fully clothed though. She can’t string any logical explanation together, so she lets her eyes open, ignoring the painful ache behind them. Her eyes land on the hand that’s intertwined with hers and her heart feels like it stops beating at the same time as it feels like it beats 500 beats per minute and like it’s jumped up to her throat and maybe she’s about to spit it out. The hand is Mel’s – she doesn’t know how she knows, she just does. The short-clipped pale nails, the soft way it’s holding hers, her skin so gentle against hers.
Mel is snoring lightly beside her and Trinity feels the vibration and her breath on her neck. It almost feels impossible to move. Trinity is wearing the top she’d planned for her ‘date’ with Garcia, and a pair of jeans. Mel is in a normal t-shirt, but she’s changed into a pair of shorts. A pair of Trinity’s shorts. Jesus Christ, what happened last night?
Trinity tries to pull back quietly enough for Mel not to notice, but she has to pull out of her hand, which is practically impossible when in her sleep, Mel tightens the grip on her hand. “God damn it,” Trinity murmurs when she feels Mel shuffle around. “Come on, girl, let me go.”
Mel is a light sleeper, it seems. Her eyes open, and she doesn’t seem at all surprised, which makes Trinity convinced that something happened. What that something was, she doesn’t know if she wants to know. The horrible idea that Trinity might have let herself be vulnerable flashes in her mind. “Hi,” Mel whispers, only barely loud enough for her to hear. “How’s your head?”
Trinity is finally able to get out of her touch as Mel sits up. “Feels like shit,” she grumbles – and because she’s hungover and tired and everything hurts, she finds herself blurting out, “you stole my shorts.”
Mel actually blushes. “Yes, sorry, it’s just that–” she cuts herself off and shakes her head while gesturing in the air. “My pants are uncomfortable to sleep in, but that’s not the point.” Her eyes land firmly on Trinity’s and all she can do is go silent. “Are you… are you okay?”
Trinity fakes a tired smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” she says, forcing her voice to be louder than necessary. It sounds and feels like a yell in her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mel scratches her neck uncomfortably. “You don’t remember a lot from last night, do you?” she asks, and Trinity shakes her head, feeling a flush creep up her neck. “I should probably tell you…”
Oh God, it’s worse than she thought. The thought barely passes her mind before she asks, “Oh my God, please tell me we didn’t.” She can’t get herself to say the words.
“No, no, we didn’t do anything,” Mel hurries to say, and Trinity feels a little lighter, a relief passing through her bones. Then the bomb drops; “I don't even do that unless I really know the person, like more than I know you, but I would never have done anything like that, not with how drunk you were. You just… you told me some stuff I don’t think you meant to say.”
Trinity swallows. “Okay?” is all she can get past her throat.
“You mentioned a scalpel,” Mel says, and Trinity’s stomach goes cold, bile rising in her throat and threatening to spill out.
Through the pain and through the daze, she moves. She hurries out of bed, desperate to put space between her and the other woman. “What?” she calls out, but she doesn’t give Mel time to explain. “Fuck, fuck.” She grabs Mel’s wrist, harder than she means to, but not hard enough to hurt. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.” Mel is surprisingly calm, standing in front of her with eyes filled with worry, and really, how dare she be worried, they’re barely friends. “Not unless I think you’re a danger to yourself.”
Trinity swallows and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she breathes, “thank you.”
Mel nods softly, but stays quiet for a long moment, and Trinity almost continues speaking. Then, finally, she speaks. “Do you want to talk about it?” Trinity shakes her head. “I just mean… it might help.”
Trinity steps back, realizing her hand is still holding Mel’s wrist, gentler now. “I appreciate that, really,” she says, but she shakes her head again. “And I'm sorry I reacted a like that, but really, I’m fine.”
“You didn’t seem fine last night,” Mel comments. “I don’t think you were.”
“Let it go, Mel,” Trinity says, her eyes holding Mel's gaze.
“Trinity,” Mel whispers, her name spoken so softly that Trinity goes quiet again. “Would you have hurt yourself if I wasn’t here?”
The question is direct enough to have Trinity stumbling over her own thoughts. The truth is so close to slipping out, the three letter word on her tongue, but she can’t. Instead, she nods, the smallest confession. She doesn’t mean to start talking, but it just spills out of her and she needs her to know; “I haven’t in a long time, not since Pittfest, but something about yesterday just…” she realizes that Langdon’s shit isn’t hers to tell, that Mel is one of Langdon’s friends – possibly more? she’s not sure – and she trails off. “I fight the urges all the time, but yesterday, I was too weak to fight it. I don’t know what I would have done, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad you were with me.”
Mel nods slowly. “Me too,” she murmurs, a small smile forming on her lips. “You can call me, if you ever feel like you might do it again.”
Trinity feels her walls come up around her, the urge to push Mel away because she’s getting too close. She doesn’t – instead, she takes Mel’s hand and squeezes it softly. “Thank you.” There’s no explaining it; that it feels like the biggest gift to have someone reach out and say you’re safe with me, when she’s used to not feeling safe anywhere. “I will.”
It’s easier said than done, of course, but it’s something.