Bennett/Melanie, Rated T
Allie’s eighth birthday was roughly six months after departure, and Melanie had taken the day off, claiming she was too sick. She had had several glasses of the whiskey they kept in the engine, and if Bennett and Javi had noticed her excessive day drinking, they didn’t mention it. At the end of the day-after Javi had gone home-Bennett decided to check on her, and found her so drunk he was debating if he should take her to the infirmary.
“Mel, get down from there,” his voice was strained as he watched her hang upside down listlessly from the top bunk by her legs, body swaying ominously.
“Why?” she asked petulantly.
“Because it’s dangerous,” he was becoming exasperated.
She gave him a childishly playful look, “Watch me.”
Bennett yelped in horror as she let go, landing ungracefully on the floor. She managed not to hit her head too hard, but he still swore as he rushed to her.
“Dammit Mel,” he groaned, “That’s it. I’m taking you to Dr. Pelton, right now.”
He grabbed her by her arm and lifted her up when she didn’t reply.
She gave him an angry look, “Stop treating me like a child, Ben. Do you know what day it is? Allie would have been eight today.”
That stopped him in his tracks, “Mel-”
“Don’t,” Melanie told him darkly as she shrugged him off, “Just don’t, Ben.”
He nodded, defeated, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah,” she let out a hollow, bitter sound laugh, “Me too.”
He spent the night alternating between the helm and the bunkroom reassuring himself that she was still breathing. And in the morning, he was the one to bring her to the doctor to assess that she hadn’t sustained any damage during her little stunt the night before.
They never mentioned that night again.