tw. arguing, addiction, mental breakdown, mentions of domestic violence/child abuse

The knock at the door came again, but it was softer this time—slower, almost hesitant.

Melina didn't look up. She thought it might be Maeve, but something felt... off. When the door creaked open without her answering, she tensed.

"Melina?" came a hoarse, uncertain voice.

She froze.

That voice—smoke-stained and slurred around the edges—belonged to only one person.

Melina turned, stiff and disbelieving, to see Nancy leaning against the doorway. Hair unwashed, makeup smeared, clutching a lighter in one hand like a nervous tic. Her eyes, once sharp and striking, looked dimmed by time and toxins.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Melina asked, her voice cold and quiet.

Nancy gave a half-shrug, like she wasn't sure herself. "Heard yelling earlier... I was in the hallway. Thought I'd... check in."

"Check in?" Melina scoffed, standing. "You haven't checked in since I was nine."

Nancy winced, but didn't leave. "I know. I know I've been... not there. For either of you."

"That's the understatement of the year." Melina's fists clenched. "Maeve cried herself to sleep next to your body more times than I can count, thinking you were dead. You don't get to stroll in now like you care."

Nancy blinked slowly, shame flickering behind her tired eyes. "I'm not proud of it. I'm not even sure why I'm here. But you looked... tired. Sad. Like I used to feel. I just thought maybe... I could say something."

Melina stared at her mother—this wreck of a woman who'd once held her when she was small and afraid, then disappeared into her own addictions like a ghost.

"Say what?" Melina asked flatly.

Nancy hesitated. "That you're not alone. That maybe I don't get to be your mother anymore, but I see what this has done to you. And I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stop it."

Melina felt something crack in her chest. Not forgiveness—but a strange, unfamiliar ache.

She sat back down slowly, staring at the floor.

"Maeve needed you," she whispered. "I needed you. And you left."

Nancy didn't deny it. She only nodded. "Yeah. I did."

The silence sat between them, heavy but real. For once, no lies.

"I'm still not good," Nancy said, voice low. "But I'm not using today."

Melina didn't answer. She couldn't. She didn't know if she believed her, or if it even mattered. But for the first time in years, her mother hadn't disappeared.

And that was something.

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional drip of a leaky faucet. Melina sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Her eyes were red from crying, her face pale and drawn. She hadn't bothered to change out of the clothes she'd worn earlier—clothes that still carried the faint scent of the streets.

The knock at the door startled her, and she wiped her eyes quickly, hoping the darkness would conceal her tears. But she knew who it was. She always knew when he was near.

"Melina," Bruce's voice came through the door, low and steady. "It's Bruce. Can we talk?"

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I don't want to talk to you," she snapped, her voice thick with emotion. "You shouldn't even be here."

Bruce didn't move closer. "I heard what happened."

"Oh, you heard?" she snapped, eyes lifting to his, red-rimmed and glassy. "Did Richard make a call? Did Maeve come running to tell you? Or did Jason come crying to you because I wasn't being a good enough second mother to him? You don't get to come in here and act like you care."

There was a long pause before Bruce spoke again. "I'm not here to argue. I just... I just want to make sure you're okay."

Melina let out a bitter laugh, pacing the small room. "Okay? You think I'm okay? I'm a mess, Bruce. A broken, useless mess. And you—you're just a reminder of everything I can't be."

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain. "You think you can fix me? You think you can just waltz in and make everything better? Well, you can't. No one can."

Bruce stepped into the room slowly, his gaze softening as he took in her disheveled appearance. "I'm not here to fix you, Melina. I'm here because I care about you. And I know you're hurting."

"Don't," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Don't pity me."

"I'm not pitying you," he said gently. "I'm worried about you."

Melina shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again. "I don't need your worry. I don't need anyone's pity. I just need to be left alone."

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

Melina stood suddenly, fists shaking. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare be calm. Where were you when everything fell apart again? Where were you when Michael hit me so hard I couldn't hear straight for a day? When he first sent me to work the streets at fucking nine years old!? When I screamed at Maeve because I didn't know what else to do? You swoop in now, like some saint with your money and your manners—like you can fix me. You can't fix something that's been broken for years."

She turned away from him, walking to the window and staring out into the night. "I'm tired, Bruce. I'm so tired. Tired of pretending I'm fine. Tired of pretending I have it all together. I'm not strong. I'm not brave. I'm just... just a girl trying to survive."

Bruce approached her cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're stronger than you think."

She spun around to face him, her face flushed with emotion. "No, I'm not! I'm damaged. I'm broken. And I don't know how to fix myself this time."

Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed onto the bed, her sobs wracking her body. Bruce knelt beside her, his heart aching for her. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as she cried.

"I'm sorry," she whispered between sobs. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Bruce murmured, brushing her hair back gently. "You're not alone, Melina. You're not broken. You're just... you're just hurting. And that's okay."

She clung to him, her body trembling with emotion. "I don't know how to do this anymore," she admitted, her voice small and fragile. "I don't know how to keep going."

"You don't have to do it alone," Bruce said softly. "I'm here. You're not alone."

And for the first time in a long while, Melina allowed herself to believe it.