Stand By Me

Friday March 27, 2020
“Is Ellen going to be home soon, sweetie? It’s getting pretty late. Isn’t this the night Atlanta usually comes over too?” Monica Goldman stands near the doorway to the Goldman house, giving a concerned look to Melody.
“Yeah... Ellen’s just busy lately, she’ll be home super soon...” Melody sprawls out across the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone.
“Is everything okay, Melody? You seem really down today,” her mom frowns. “I’m sorry about our plans this weekend, your dad and I tried to get out of this conference. We’ll be back on Sunday night. We can go to that sushi place you like? Ellen can come too, and we can bring the Isars…” she grins. “Jav mentioned you and Aman have been spending more time together?” 
Melody’s cheeks flush as she narrows her eyes. “Mom. Fine, that sounds cool.” She gives a soft smile and waves. “See ya.”
“See ya?” Monica steps back into the living room and bends down to hug her daughter. “Bye, honey. We love you. You and Ellen stay out of trouble while we’re gone.”
“Love you too. Yeah, we always do.”
As the door closes, Melody moves to a recliner facing the door and angles herself purposefully. Okay, I should have done this a while ago. I tried to give her distance or whatever, but something’s been up with Ellen. Especially being mean to Atlanta and not talking to her…? What the fuck is that about? Well, she doesn’t get to avoid me anymore.
She continues turning over her thoughts, fears, and trepidation from the previous weeks as sleep takes her.
Melody feels herself waking in her bed, rays of morning sunlight streaming in through her window. A sense of familiarity and dread washes over her as she feels herself floating out of her room and down the hallway. She already knows what she’ll find if she goes upstairs: the door to her parent’s bedroom ajar, the room itself completely empty, barren of all furniture or signs that her parents ever lived here. Instead, she feels herself drawn towards Ellen’s room, as a mounting sense of panic fills her.
Empty. Completely, utterly empty.
She runs -- flies, floats, is moved -- to the dining room window looking out toward the driveway. Where Ellen’s motorcycle, in all its glory, rests proudly. Or should.
But it too has disappeared. She is alone. She always knew she would be.
Crrrrrreak.
Melody startles awake inside the dim living room, still slumped in the recliner. She wipes her tears with a forearm before calling out in a croaky voice. 
“Ellen?”
The voice in the darkness catches Ellen off guard. She’d become accustomed to getting back in the dead of night — late enough that either Atlanta would have gone home, or both she and Melody would be sound asleep. 
Shit. What, was she waiting to catch me? Cool. Great. Perfect. 
Ellen rolls her eyes and pauses on her way to the stairs, shooting a quick, dismissive, “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t worry about it, just… sleep,” in Melody’s direction. It’d been weeks since they’d last spoken; that could last a little longer. 
“Hey...” Melody gathers herself and stands, turning on a nearby lamp. “Can we-- we should talk. Is now oka--” she cuts herself short, breathing in a loud sniffle as her face grows serious.
You had a task. Put your emotions aside. Get it done.
Melody gestures to the couch and continues in a steadier voice. “We... need to talk. Now.”
Ellen turns, squinting at the light, to Melody. She considers making a comment, some kind of snide comeback, but decides against it as her vision adjusts and Melody's expression comes into focus. Whatever she wants to talk about, Mel is clearly serious in a way she doesn’t often get. Not at home. Not with Ellen. 
Guess it was gonna happen sooner or later. Ready or not, time to bite the bullet, E. 
She sighs, drops her bag, and shuffles into the living room without complaint. Where she would usually sprawl out on the couch, Ellen now sits upright and legs crossed, looking expectantly at Melody. 
“Sure, Mel. What’s up?” Her voice is tired and non-combative; Ellen can guess what’s coming, and readies herself to bear the consequences of her actions. 
Eyes locked intently on the girl in front of her, Melody opens her mouth to snarl an insult at Ellen. She thinks of Atlanta pouring out her heart the week before, the unbridled anger she’d felt throughout her previous AEGIS mission, and her own feelings of abandonment at being ignored for weeks despite living in the same home. All of Melody’s emotions well up in her chest, waiting to burst.
But she’d expected Ellen to put up a lot of resistance. Melody and Ellen had never truly fought in their time together -- petty arguments about who was doing dishes that night, sure -- but never anything serious. Even so, Melody knew that Ellen did not take kindly to anyone telling her what to do.
Yet there she patiently sits, with her weary voice and unfamiliar posture. 
Melody drops back onto the recliner. She sizes up Ellen one more time before she sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. She stares at the coffee table between them for a few long moments, then turns to Ellen with a frown. 
“Okay… there’s probably like, a gentler way to bring all this shit up? But I’m tired and frustrated and I’ve never been good at figuring out nice words for this kind of thing. So…” Melody blinks a few times, her eyes puffy from sleepiness and crying. “What is going on with you lately? You’re never home, you never want to hang out with me anymore, you avoid me at school… when you’re even there.”
Melody rubs her temple before continuing. “Listen, Ellen… I know you’re going through some shit, and I was trying to give you space, cause I know that’s how you usually work through things. But this has gone on way too long. And Atlanta told me you’re not talking to her anymore, and she doesn’t know what she did. What, was she too nice to you?” Melody glares at Ellen, but the frustration quickly fades into concern. “Just… what’s wrong?”
Ellen winces as Melody rattles off her itemized list of offences. It’s not the accusations that sting, it’s the accuracy. One after another, Mel piles them on and all Ellen can do is sit there and take it. Face scrunched up in pain, she prepares for the final blow, for the absolute condemnation from Melody, but it doesn’t come. Instead, her voice softens and Ellen is left to fill the space.
She tries to think of a good way to start off, something to cushion the blow, but nothing comes to mind. Anything else would feel like making excuses, or trying to coddle Melody. As if one of the toughest people she knows would need that. This is Mel we’re talking about. If anyone will understand that I’m doing what I need to do, it’s her.
All Ellen can bring herself to do is what she should have done in the first place: come clean.
“I’m leaving, Mel.”
Melody’s eyes glaze over as she feels her chest tighten. Her mind races, trying to comprehend what Ellen said as a burning lump fills her throat. She shuts her eyes tightly.
Breathe. Breathe in through your nose. Hold it. Exhale. Do what Ernest taught you in training. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She’s not going forever. Think about what she said.
A long silence follows before Melody opens her eyes again. 
“You don’t… you don’t have to. I love you being here, dude,” she says in a weak voice. “But yeah, I mean, you spend so much time with Carm and stuff now, it makes sense if you’d wanna go live at the Community Center or something too. Probably save a lot of money on gas, at least.” She tries to grin at Ellen, but her face refuses the attempt.
“What’re you talking about?” Ellen almost laughs, she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Denial, or flat out misunderstanding like this, was not what she had expected from Melody. “I’m leaving leaving, Mel. I’m going home. I’m not gonna stay at the community center, I’m not going to…” She realizes mid-sentence that she really doesn’t have any other options. “Point is, I’m going back where I came from. ‘Cause I sure as shit can’t stay here anymore.”
Ellen stares at Melody, taking in every detail of her reaction with surprise. She recognizes the controlled breathing, notices her shoulders shaking slightly, sees the forced attempts at a smile. Every bit of it makes her feel worse. I thought being honest was supposed to be better. I can’t believe she- what a time to be surprised. Guess I don’t know her that well after all. 
She stands slowly and heads for the stairs again, scooping up her bag on the way. “Look, I’ll stay out of your hair until I go. Probably better that way.”
Melody freezes as her previously-quelled emotions come flooding back. She feels them pooling up in her chest before crawling out to her arms and legs, constricting her so much that she feels like she’s drowning. Her mind desperately grasps for a solution.
What would Aman do here? Or Atlanta? Or Ernest? Do I tell her that everything will be okay? Do I beg her not to go? Give her space again? Do I tell her that I love her? Do I…
The raging sea of Melody’s feelings transforms into a frigid pool as The Jackal’s words come rushing back again.
You had a task. Put your emotions aside. Get it done.
As Ellen reaches the foot of the stairs, Melody sits to attention and speaks in an even, unhurried tone.
“We’re not done talking. You haven’t explained yourself. You came here for a purpose, and I doubt you’ve accomplished it. And even if you want to go back, that doesn’t explain how you’re acting around Atlanta. Or me.” Melody curtly gestures to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll follow you upstairs if you make me. If you try to leave…” she jerks her head toward the driveway, “I’ll break that loud fucking bike of yours to bits. I’ve had a long, fucked up couple of weeks and I’m not in the mood for your shit right now. You’re not ignoring me any more. Sit. Down.”
Theeeeeere it is. Finally got mad. Jesus, took her long enough. 
Ellen spins slowly on her heels, jaw clenched in preparation for a fight. This was the reaction she’d been waiting for; she can deal with anger. As she finishes her turn a chill runs up her spine, and she swears she can see… something else there. Not instead of Melody, it’s still her, but beside her… around her? Something is different.
It immediately puts Ellen on her back foot and where she had planned to respond with insults and vitriol, any vicious retort she could think of is gone. All her calm -- no, exhaustion -- disappears and panic sets in, like an animal in front of a predator.
“Y’know what? I actually think I’m good standing,” her voice cracks, so she starts shouting to mask her fear, “but sure. You want answers? I got ‘em. Wh-what, you want to know why I’m… like this? To you? Or Atlanta? It’s ‘cause I’m trying to get used to not seeing you guys anymore! Y’know how you’re not alive in nineteen-fucking-ninety-two? Yeah, I forgot too! So excuse me for trying to do what I fucking need to do to get the job done! I thought you of all people would get that!”
She throws her bag at Melody’s feet, unable to get closer herself. “See for yourself.” Ellen can’t quite find the commanding tone she wants, but hey -- if Mel wants answers, she can put the goddamn work in.
Melody casually glances down at her old backpack -- now Ellen’s -- and brings it into her lap. Something deep inside her screams: tell her this is all a mistake. Tell her you’re sorry. Please don’t let her be afraid of me too. Not her.
But the cries inside Melody are drowned. She finally has Ellen talking, and this opportunity might never come again. Her face remains placid as she opens the backpack and inspects the contents.
The usual “Ellen” trash is in the backpack: a pack of cigarettes, her flip-phone and a set of cheap earbuds, and a notebook. The rest is more telling: there’s an instant camera, which she either brought with her from the nineties or found at the worst pawn shop in Halcyon City, and a sandwich bag full of photographs. 
Melody turns the camera over with mild curiosity -- the retro design reminds her of her dad’s old camera gathering dust in the attic. Setting it down, she opens the sandwich bag and begins leafing through the photos. At first glance the pictures are more confusing than anything else. They’re all taken at different times of day and there aren't any locations in common. A couple of them have some of the other Ellens in them, but they’re fuzzy and out of focus.
“You know, if you’d told me you wanted to do surveillance, I could have given you some stuff made this century,” Melody sighs as she continues shuffling through the collected photos. “Listen, if this is about the other yous at the Mall… yeah, it’s fucking weird. But hey, Halcyon’s probably all kind of fucking weird in the 90s too. Even if you go back, I’m sure they’ll be there soon enou--”
Wait. Didn’t I see that…? Melody holds a photo closer to her face and squints. She sees an adult figure, blurry and in-motion near the fountain at the mall. Yeah, I know I saw that one… Melody rifles back through the photos to find an image of the same blurry figure near City Hall. She begins going through each photo individually again, this time spotting the constantly-in-motion person in each picture. 
Melody furrows her brow as she looks up to Ellen again. “Okay. You’ve tracked someone a lot lately. Who? Why?” 
Ellen feels the repressive bad vibes recede as the object of Melody’s attention switches to the backpack, and breathes a sigh of relief. Okay, so that was her. That’s… new. She watches as Melody scans the photos, wondering if this is another part of her training with “Jackal Sr.”, the part she’d only heard about before.
“That’s Dr. Doorheart. Stupid name, I know, but whatever. They’re how I got here, and they’re how I’m gonna get back,” she leans against the doorway with her arms crossed, trying to regain some cool, “at least, if I can fucking catch them. Kinda hard to get to them, what with…” Ellen points at her own face and then the many pictures of The Ellens.
“And now you know. Are you happy now, Melody? Can I fucking sleep now, or are you gonna interrogate me some more?” She finally manages to get some snark in, but it doesn’t hit quite the same way after she punked out, like, 2 minutes earlier.
“Do I look happy? Ellen, I--” Something catches in Melody’s throat. No. No no no. Keep your shit together. Just a little longer. “I… just need to talk at you for a minute, Ellen. You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to. But I need to say some shit or I’ll regret it forever. Just fucking give me that.”
“Fine.” Ellen stomps back to the couch and sits, this time taking up as much space as she possibly can, slouched halfway down the seat with her arms crossed over her chest. She’s put up with me for like half a year; I owe her so much, what’s a little more guilt gonna do?
There’s a faint bubble of relief as Melody sees her friend take up a familiar -- though exaggerated -- position on the couch. She makes her way to the recliner again and turns to see Ellen illuminated in the otherwise dark room, like the perp being interrogated in an old movie. 
Keep pushing. Why leave now? What information does she have? Who else knows? Don’t let up yet. Put your emotions asi--
No. Fuck that.
Melody turns off the lamp and drops into the recliner again. All at once, she feels the wave of exhaustion hit, almost immobilizing her as she gives an unfocused stare around the living room. The sparse hallway nightlights and a trickle of moonlight from a nearby window barely keep the outlines of the girls visible.
“I… I didn’t know you still wanted to go back. I thought you liked it here. I thought this--” Melody’s voice wavers again, “I thought this was home now. And… I’m sorry I didn’t know you were, like... hurting that much. I wish you’d said something. I would’ve… whatever. I’m sorry.”
“I can tell you’re really fucking serious about this, so I’m… I know I probably can’t talk you out of it. I couldn’t even convince you to, like, get a good phone,” she laughs half-heartedly. “And I know you’d do anything it takes to get your shit done once you’ve decided on it. I’m…” She winces as she thinks back to her own shadow chains crushing Smoke. “I think I’m the same. I think we’ve always got that about each other.”
“So listen, Ellen… if this is really what you want? I’ll fucking help. I’m good at surveillance. And not that you’d need help beating the shit out of Doorheart, but I’d help with that too. I’d help with--” Melody’s voice cracks as tears start welling up again. “I’d help with anything, Ellen. I love you. I fucking love you like you were my own sister, okay? I just want you to be happy. And I wish that was here, but if it’s… if it’s…” she stammers through her sobs, “if it’s not here… I just want my fucking friend back till you’re gone.” 
Ellen is already crying by the time Melody starts talking; apparently the cover of dark is all she needed for the tears to start flowing. There’s a storm of emotions going through her head, one by one and then all at once. She’s missed hearing Melody’s voice and it’s been weirdly comforting throughout the conversation so far. She wishes Mel had just gotten mad and left it there. She’s guilty as hell hearing how sad Melody is -- how sad she’s made her -- and at this point can’t tell whose sniffles she’s hearing.
No no no no no stop crying. Just get angry. Why won’t any of you get angry at me? That’s what you’re supposed to do when someone is a bitch to you; just be pissed and you don’t have to care. How do I make them not care? How do I make it not hurt? The blame spins around inside her mind until she can no longer contain it and the words come pouring out of her mouth. 
“Every time. Every time I try to do the right thing it makes things worse. So much worse. Mel, what are you talking about? Look at this!” Ellen opens her arms to the whole room, as if the near pitch black is somehow her fault too. “How can you want me to stay when this is what I do to people I care about?” She shoots to her feet, bashing her shin on the coffee table. Ellen lets out a shout at the combination of the sound and the sudden jolt of pain, and falls back on the sofa, worn out and staring at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry about the silent treatment, and for avoiding you, and everything. I just didn’t- I don’t want you getting more caught up in… whatever is going on with me. Any of you! Not you, not Atlanta, not Tay, I’m not mad at any of you. You were supposed to get mad at me! But I went and fucked that up too and now everyone’s sad again.”
Her head drops to the side and a stream of tears flows across her nose bridge. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Melody. I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.” Her voice is small and the room goes quiet.
A few long moments pass as Melody fights to get her trembling under control. She missed this so much. Just… talking to Ellen. Being real with her. She’d begun to think that it might never happen again, and hearing Ellen be herself fills Melody with a jumble of emotions.
She’s here. She’s not gone. She will be soon. But… it’s still her. It’s still Ellen. She doesn’t hate you.
Melody awkwardly tries to drag a strap from her tank top towards her face before thinking better of it. There are too many tears still, and she isn’t sure when they’ll stop. The ball of sadness, relief, anxiety, and countless other emotions sticks in her chest and won’t leave. And she’s tired. So tired.
“Sit up,” Melody says in a tiny voice. She stumbles to her feet, narrowly avoiding the coffee table as she drops onto the couch next to Ellen. 
“Me and Atlanta and Tay know who you are, Ellen. You have a huge fucking heart. And you’re stuck with us, so just, like... get over it. Your bullshit is our bullshit.”
She opens her mouth again, but no words come. Melody knows there are more things she should ask, more she should say, more reassurances she should give. She wants to talk about the last couple weeks. She wants to tell Ellen to apologize to Atlanta and Carm too. She wants to ask if sushi on Sunday night sounds good. But every fiber of her being aches, and she only has the energy to do one thing.
Melody wraps her arms around Ellen and pulls her into a hug.
Ellen doesn’t have the energy to push Melody away, and remembering the face Atlanta made the last time she did it makes it impossible to even try. Still, she bristles against the hug, keeping her arms at her sides and wringing her hands nervously. 
“I know you guys would help me if I asked. That’s the problem, Mel. It’s not that I don’t trust you; I just want to keep you safe. I would do anything to keep you all safe. Anything…” It comes out in barely a whisper. The experience of feeling a body, the weight of a person, dissipate by her hand hits her again and she shudders. “That’s why I have to go. I’m not safe, and I don’t know how else to protect you from me. And I can’t even do that right.” She lifts a pillow to her face, speaking into it. “Tay is going with me.”
“What are you even talking about?” Melody tentatively releases her hug and slumps her back against the couch, her shoulder still pressed against Ellen’s. “I’m glad Tay offered to go with you, but like… I can take care of myself. And you’re not the one that’s putting everyone in danger. You’re not the one losing control of your powers all the time, and hurting your friends, and…”
Melody takes in a deep, shaky breath. She’s the only friend of yours who’ll be real with you about this. Tell her.
“I… I lost control of my chains a few weeks ago. Again. It keeps happening so much now. We were fighting this dude, and everyone was in danger, and I saw a chance and just…” Her teeth chatter as she hears the sound of Smoke’s screaming again. “I hurt him. Really fucking bad. Way more than I needed to. I thought it was on accident, but… it might have been on purpose. I don’t know. I just wanted to protect everyone. And I’d do anything to protect you too. And Atlanta. But if she hadn’t been there to calm me down… to stop me before I...”
“If anyone should be going away to keep people safe, it’s me” she finishes in a quiet voice.
Ellen opens her mouth to speak but can’t find the words to say. She’s not gonna say it isn’t that bad, or it isn’t Mel’s fault; lying won’t help here. 
I should tell her about… “it”. Maybe she won’t feel so bad about her shit if she knows I’m worse. Or maybe it’ll just sound like I’m trying to make it all about me again. Ughhhh, I can’t believe this has been going on for a while and I had no idea. I’m right here and I had no idea. But that’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? 
She buries her face in the pillow again to muffle a shout of frustration. “Fuck… I don’t know what to say, dude. Sorry? For everything? For leaving you alone? Like, I know I’m not the only person you can talk to about things, but, like, I’m right here… or I was supposed to be anyway.” She slumps down further into the couch, keeping her arm pressed against Melody’s. She hasn’t spent much time this close to anyone other than Tay recently, and the warmth is nice. 
“I’m sorry you feel like you can’t help anyone without hurting someone else. I know what that’s like. Maybe someday we’ll figure out how to make up for it. Not today though.” Ellen barely manages to get the words out through a long yawn.
“Yeah… hope we can figure it out. But not today. Tonight. This morning. Whatever.” Melody yawns as she looks to the window with bleary eyes. 
“Thanks, Ellen. I... really missed this. I missed you. Hey, on... Sunday... do you wanna...”
A few seconds of quiet pass before Melody’s head slumps onto Ellen’s shoulder, her chest gently rising and falling in a slow rhythm.
---------------------------------
Ellen’s eyes shoot open to darkness and a dull pain in her back. Between the deep slouch and Melody’s weight on her shoulder, she’d almost fully slid off the couch. Moving carefully so as not to wake Mel, Ellen props her friend back up so her head lolls back on the top of the sofa. Be right back, please don’t wake up, please please please don’t wake up.
Feeling her way across the room to her backpack to get her phone, the circles under her eyes are lit by the dim bluish glow of the screen as she types out a message.
 3/28
 To: Atlanta
Hey AtlantaGotta talk to you tomorrowMe and TayToday actuallyLater obvsNot mad at youSorry
 4:38 am
That’s probably too many texts. Shit. Whatever, can’t un-send ‘em. I’ll deal with that later.
She drops her phone back on her bag and tiptoes upstairs, avoiding the creaky parts of each tread, returning a minute later having changed into pajamas and carrying the blanket from her bed. Tucking back in next to Melody, Ellen wraps the blanket around the both of them and leans Melody’s head back on her shoulder.
Ehhhh, hope that didn’t fuck up her neck or anything. Whatever, morning problems.
Night sis.
And she drifts off again.
Category:B-Verse
Category:Scenes
Category:The Jackal
Category:Ellen Drummond