songofsong | Melody Malone and the Invisible Wife

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Melody Malone and the Invisible Wife

PROLOGUE

It was another dark and dangerous night on the streets of New York. Well, it was always one of those. And that was just the way I liked it.

After all, that was my profession. As a detective, those streets were what kept me alive, and for as long as the people of New York kept giving into their paranoia and fear, I would be in business. It seemed people would pay a high price to feel safe in their beds at night, and I too slept a little easier, knowing I had the villains caught and money in my pocket.

And what villains they were indeed. For I didn't deal with wanted criminals or the occasional ruffian the police failed to catch; my customers were of a more particular variety, and too were their problems. I could say it was because these particular clients paid me rather handsomely, or that I felt some kind of noble responsibility to keep New York safe - but none of that was true.

The reason I did it, was because I loved it.

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Melody Malone is no stranger to flirting, and she hears that tone in his voice like it's a most obvious clue. She glances towards him, smirking just slightly at the suggestion. Many men flirt with her, they think it's a way around her (or into her,) and they're rarely successful. That doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy their attempts, of course. In fact, she gives as good as she gets.

"Better get some rest then," she tells him, as though they're talking about something far more strenuous. She gives him another amused smile before she twists and stands from the window, striding across the room like a Hollywood siren, her dressing gown fluttering open around her legs. She puts out the remainders of her cigarette in the ashtray by her bed, before she perches on the edge of it, removing the pins from her hair.

The Doctor isn't the sort to really look at a woman, well, like that. But Melody is no ordinary woman, and every moment he sees her, he sees River. He sees the woman he lost, the woman he loved. Still loves. The woman he misses and craves just one more moment beside.

He takes a step up, a little closer, watching her like some old black and white movie. But this one he can reach out and touch. This one he can breathe in and know is real.

"We don't have to rest," he suggests. Forward, more so than he ever would be. But then here he's hardly himself, not in this room, not with her.

The words quickly draw her attention to him, her eyebrows raising. She was a flirt, certainly, and she knew how to use her assets to get what she wanted, but there was a fine line between suggestion and promise. She lays down the last of the pins, giving a small laugh as she lets her curls fall about her shoulders. It's not a surprise to her. It's normally only a matter of time before they try this. She appreciates the attention, but she also appreciates the choice.

"Nice try, honey, but you're staying on the couch," she says, giving him a pointed look that suggests her next refusal won't be quite so amicable.

It's almost mesmerising, watching her let out her hair like that. He's seen it before, of course, and maybe that's what does it so much. He wants to reach out, to run his fingers through it. But then he's jarred by her laughter. Nothing that seems normal, and he's left feeling almost embarrassed.

"Couch, yes," he nods. "Thank you. Much more comfortable then the park, I'm sure."

She watches him until he eventually shows signs of retreat, before she shakes her head to herself. Not that she makes it any easier for him, because next, the silky dressing gown comes off, leaving behind a negligee that's even more revealing. Not overly, but then it doesn't have to be.

Pulling her legs up into the bed, Melody gets herself comfortable in the soft sheets, letting out a content sigh as she lays down, her head propped up on the pillow as she watches him get settled himself.

Settled isn't something the Doctor is about to get. He moves to the couch and sits himself down, slowly reaching out for the blanket, bringing it over himself. He's still cold from the rain, and anything to warm him is more than a little appreciated.

It's hard not to watch her, though he knows he shouldn't be doing that. It should't hurt this much, but it does, because he's only reminded of how alone he feels, and how much everything hurts.

He leans back a little, propped back on a pillow, but still seeing her from where he is, still able to see how the fabric (or lack of it) sits on her skin and disappears under her sheets.

Quite without meaning to, he feels a sting in his own eyes. Oh this is horrible, just awful, and there's a very real risk of tears.

With him on the couch, Melody begins to settle down a little more, pulling her covers up and over herself. She tells herself this is necessary, that the information she might get for this act of kindness could speed up months of work. Because this case has been dead end after dead end, and she could really do with a break through. She needs one.

"Goodnight, Doctor," she says, reaching over to turn out the light, and plunging the room into a dense blackness.

CHAPTER THREE

The sun pours in through the window of Melody Malone's office, casting a glare against the wall, the dust visible in the harsh light. Behind her desk, and dressed to the nines, sits the detective herself, ready for another day's work, another mystery to solve. There's always some poor sap that needs her help. But today? The poor sap in question is already in her office, sitting in the chair opposite her, sharply dressed in a crisp suit that was never meant for him.

He starts, looking around as though he doesn't know where he is. And in a way, he doesn't.

It's happened again, and he glances down, looking at the clothes he now wears, all sharp suit and slicked back hair that he doesn't remember doing. Clothes he doesn't remember dressing in. His eyes lift, a little wide as they look towards her. How did they get here? The last thing he remembers is the clutch in his hearts as he lay on her sofa, the moment she bit him goodnight. The lamp went off and next? He's here.

There's a slap of papers as Melody flips through the file open before her, but it's almost unnecessary. She knows exactly what's in there, from the amount of long, dark nights she's spent going over everything, nursing a glass of liquor in the low lamp light.

Looking up, she unfolds a sheet under his nose, tapping at a spot a map that's been drawn and indicated many times. "That's where it happened," she tells him, apparently in midflow of a conversation that he should understand.

This makes no sense. This really makes no sense.

He looks at her, and the way she looks at him she certainly seems to expect some sort of response. Expects him to have even half a clue what she's talking about.

"Where what happened?" he frowns.

His confusion causes her to regard him sharply, half annoyed, half concerned he'd had another bout of amnesia. She needs him to work with her on this, she needs to know what he knows. Trust the only person who might have any answers be one who's liable to forget them at any moment.

"That's where the car was last sighted. Doctor, are you taking any of this in?" She can't help but be exasperated. Her entire life is in this folder, and she can't move on until this case is closed. She rubs at her forehead with a hand, sitting back and deciding this called for cigarette. Well, any moment seemed to call for a cigarette.

"Car... yes, yes of course." But really, no, not of course. He's confused, and he frowns, unable to make sense of it at all. What's happened here? How can he have just forgotten hours?

"The car..."

Another beat.

"Actually no, sorry, what? A minute ago, I was going to sleep, and then now..." he glances down, nice new set of clothing, apparently it's daytime, none of this he recalls.

Melody nods slowly as he begins talking again, assuming he was getting himself back on track. She busies herself with lighting meanwhile, shaking out the match before she propped her elbows on the desk, slipping another countless cigarette between her lips.

But when he starts again, she quickly looks over, confused, before her eyes roll and she realises its happened again.

Pushing away from her desk, she sinks back in her seat, folding one arm and giving him a levelled look. “Doctor, you’ve been in my office for the past hour, and getting nowhere fast,” she tells him, pointing at him with her smoking cigarette.

“And now you’re telling me you’ve suddenly forgotten all of that?” she asks, waving that hand aside, wanting an explanation.

"No. No I'm telling you none of that happened. I'm telling you I was there and now I'm here. I don't know what's going on here, but I didn't black out. I didn't pass out. You'd know if I had, wouldn't you? But there was nothing, was there, nothing at all."

He pauses then, takes a deep breath as he looks around the room in the light of day. There's something still a little off about it; something he can't quite put his finger on.

Well, apart from the whole sitting chatting with a fictional character bit.

Maybe he finally is just going mad.

Something Melody seems to be thinking along the same lines of, judging by the way her eyebrows raise and she looks aside, concentrating on a well needed drag of her cigarette before she speaks

A puff of smoke joins the steadily building smog about them before she considers herself calm enough to reply. She takes a small breath before she sits forward, lowering her voice and speaking in a sure tone.

"I can assure you, you've been here all morning. Nothing happened to you while you've been with me."

Edited 2014-08-14 20:29 (UTC)

The Doctor coughs a little pointedly and waves his hand in front of him to disperse a little of the smog.

He leans forward, just as she does, his face close to hers.

"Then that's exactly my point, isn't it? Nothing happened to me. So what's going on here?"

Almost like punctuation, he reaches out and grabs her cigarette from her hand, stubbing it out on her desk.

Melody opens her mouth to respond when he grabs for her cigarette and puts it out. She stares, for a moment too stunned to really comprehend his actions before her expression sets in annoyance.

Without remarking upon it, she slowly sits back in her seat, as though that makes her point enough, folding her arms.

"Ok, let's go back to the beginning. What's the last thing you remember?"

He huffs out a long breath. This is just ridiculous, isn't it? He half wonders if he's about to wake up out of it.

If only he'd pay attention to that a little more.

"I remember last night. Or at least I assume it's last night," he's ever so slightly flippant about the matter. "I was on your couch. And now I'm here."

Melody considers him thoughtfully, trying to make sense of this. She's come across some strange things in her time, but never a man who kept forgetting. She'd wave it off as something medical, but it seems to be something more. Something she can't quite figure out.

"You don't remember anything from this morning?" she tries, tilting her head as she studies his face. "What about if I told you we had eggs for breakfast, does that trigger anything?"

He pauses a moment, as if to think about it, but nothing comes back.

"No," he tells her. "It doesn't. Nor do these clothes I'm wearing, or the fact my hair is like this. I'm assuming I did it at some point, unless you got me dressed. But then that really is the sort of thing I think I'd remember, Melody."

An eyebrow raises that immediately shuts that idea down. As the night before, it seems she's not quite as receptive to his suggestions as River would've been.

"I'm sure it is, honey," she says dryly, before she shakes her head. "I really don't know, Doctor. I can't see any reason why you'd be forgetting things like this. It's like you weren't even here."

"Exactly, it's like I wasn't even here." He reaches up, pinches his brow and takes a long breath. It's frustrating, and makes no sense. Perhaps the only thing he can do to try and work it out is simply carry on.

"Fine," he says, "Fine. What were you trying to show me?"

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