All Roads Lead to Nowhere (4/10)
Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
Part Four
It was beginning to feel like she should just move into the hospital, or at least rent out a room there so she could crash whenever she was in the general vicinity. In reality, this was only her second visit in three days, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was in and out of the place like a yoyo. Then again, hospitals had always felt like ominous places to Van Pelt as you could never be sure whether or not your loved ones would come out of the building alive or dead.
As promised, she headed straight towards Lisbon’s ward with a coffee in hand. Her superior immediately seemed to be in far brighter spirits than she had been two days beforehand and justifiably so. It was a relief to see at least one person she cared about well on the road to recovery. It also felt like a change. She was almost growing used to one blow after another, that nothing would faze her any more.
The visit didn’t last long. Though Lisbon was obviously feeling a lot better than she had been and would soon be discharged, socializing was still taking a lot out of her. And she would clearly have a long way to go before she was fit for work. Besides, her brother, James, was due imminently and it was more important that she talked to him than just Van Pelt. So, she placed the coffee on the bedside table with a wry smile before explaining her intentions. If California wouldn’t allow her the distractions she needed, she would go home to Iowa in order to find them. Besides, her dad would inevitably be thrilled to see her. He was always complaining that he didn’t see enough of his little Gracie these days.
After she left Lisbon in peace, she debated with leaving the hospital entirely. Melody was meant to be her big sister, the one who guided her through life. As a child, Van Pelt had idolized her, wanted to be just like her. Now, she couldn’t stand the sight of her. How could she be so selfish? Why couldn’t she see that there was a reason to life at all? Van Pelt spent most of her days staring at dead bodies or fighting to arrest criminals in one way or another and yet, she still had hope. So, it may have been waning of late, but she still had some. Things would get better for her eventually, after all, they couldn’t get much worse, could they?
But her sister, she just tried to end it all time and time again. She was the very definition of a tortured soul. Maybe even more so than Patrick Jane, who had at least tried to channel his energies, albeit in a very destructive manner. So, as she walked out of one ward and headed towards another, her feet dragged. Time seemed to slow. Her heart thumped painfully. Hadn’t she lost enough people lately? Though her sister’s psychiatrist had said she should be fine, it didn’t mean she would be. She could still theoretically make a turn for the worst. Or already have done so, while she had been stubbornly ignoring her cell phone in attempt to focus on her job.
Besides, they said bad luck happened in threes. The whole Red John and O’Laughlin debacle was one. Her sister attempting suicide again was the next. What would be the third? Melody actually dying?
All too soon, she was at the secure unit for inpatients who were also classified as a threat to themselves and others. This section of the hospital was oppressive; it always had been. Then again, the people they dealt with here were genuinely all in the same state as her sister: those who tried to kill themselves. They needed special care, watching at all hours just in case they tried it again. The ward also always seemed to have staff to match. Her heart sank when she saw they had yet another new receptionist manning the ward. This one looked more dour than the previous three put together.
“Hello, I’m here to see Melody Van Pelt?”
“And you are?” the receptionist asked, with narrowed eyes.
“Grace, her sister.”
“Have you got any I.D.?”
Van Pelt suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead, dug out her badge. She may have given one copy to LaRoche earlier, the one that she ordinarily kept clipped to her belt or slung around her neck, but that didn’t stop her from keeping the other. In a swift motion, she flipped the badge holder open, leaving her identity visible for just long enough for the receptionist to confirm she was telling the truth and closed it again. Van Pelt couldn’t help but notice the flicker of discomfort in the other woman’s eyes at realizing she was a cop and felt a quick rush of pride course through her veins. It was, after all, the kind of job that meant something to people. And it was one of the few things she could still cling hold of right now. Besides, this old bat didn’t know that she was technically just a rookie, either, Eventually, the receptionist gave her a swift nod and barked at her to make sure she washed her hands before allowing her entrance.
As she expected, her sister looked in a far sorrier state than Lisbon had done. Melody was still hooked up to oxygen, her eyes tightly shut and she seemed completely unaware of her current location. Machines surrounding her clicked, buzzed and flickered as they monitored all the appropriate statistics that the medics required. Still, Van Pelt sat beside her, placing her purse neatly by her feet. She was unfazed by all of this now, she had known what to expect when coming here. Briefly, she wondered if she should have bought some flowers, chocolate or something for Melody. After all, she had done so for her boss and Melody was her family. Then again, while Lisbon had clearly appreciated the gesture, Melody probably wouldn’t have cared either way. And going by the looks of her, the flowers would probably have died before she was even aware she’d been given any.
“Hi Mels,” she started briefly, feeling a little idiotic talking to a comatose woman. “You were right about O’Laughlin. He was a bastard.”
Van Pelt laughed humorlessly. During her brief moments of lucidity, Melody had always said that men were bastards. That they’d screw women over one way or another and it was best not to let them in in the first place. She hadn’t even approved of Rigsby, despite the fact they hadn’t even met and that Van Pelt had assured her multiple times that he was a really sweet guy. Out of all of her exes, he had been the one she had been closest to telling about Melody. Despite being engaged to O’Laughlin, she had never told him about her. Then again, he had always been far more interested in her famous football coach father than any other member of her family.
“He’s dead. I killed him. I had to, to save my life. And my boss’. You know, Lisbon? She’s in this hospital too,” Van Pelt continued, ignoring the tears springing up in her eyes. “Not that you care. You haven’t done for years. Damn it, Mels, I need you. Why can’t you be here for me? What have I done that’s so wrong? I need my big sister.”
Rushing slightly, she grabbed hold of her purse once more and swept out of the small room. There was no point in talking to Melody. It was only making things worse. She wasn’t about to wake up and give her advice on how to deal with her grief. Nor was she going to tell her that she’d done the right thing, killing her fiancé in order to save four other people. Even if she was to wake up, Melody was too wrapped up in her own problems to even care about how anybody else felt. It didn’t matter if other people’s lives were a living hell, Melody Van Pelt’s problems were always worse. Not that she let anybody know what these tragic secrets were. How could Van Pelt even try to save her if she wasn’t willing to make that first leap alone?
Once safely back in her car, she allowed the tears to cascade freely. Van Pelt didn’t want comfort, least of all from a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation, would just assume that she had received some bad news about a relative or something. Which was technically true, but there was so much more to her situation than that.
What she really needed right now, was a cuddle from her daddy.
xxx
As he promised, he was there to greet her as she deplaned. In his hands, was a plush toy and Van Pelt groaned inwardly. Since her mother’s death, he seemed to have taken the idea into his head that he had to buy her one each and every time he saw her. Something to do with them providing her with comfort, or the like. However, he hadn’t quite grasped the fact that she had long since grown out of the need to snuggle up to stuffed toys to go to sleep at night. Still, she knew she should be grateful; after all, it was the one somewhat feminine luxury he seemed to allow her.
The cuddly dog fell to his feet and she immediately dropped her luggage to accept the embrace. Finally, the little comfort she had so desperately craved. She buried her head in the crook of his neck as he ran a hand reassuring through her vibrant red locks. Van Pelt missed this, seeing him regularly. Most of the time, the job was worth it and she had made some wonderful new friends in Sacramento. However, after the week she was having, she realized there was nothing quite like a father’s love to get you through the tough times. If she could have the best of both worlds, he would have moved with her. But his career, along with his family roots, were firmly tied down to Iowa and he wasn’t going to sacrifice that for anybody. Not even her.
Wordlessly, he picked up the bag and led her towards his van. Feeling rather like a small girl again, despite being within two inches of Amos Van Pelt’s height, she fell into step behind him. Already, she was beginning to feel more at peace, being back at home. Things were simpler out here, easier to manage. It didn’t have the complications of living in a big city like Sacramento. In short, it was the perfect place to clear her mind. And her dad would be the perfect person to discuss her recent trials with. She had no need to feel guilty about lumbering him with additional stress that he couldn’t cope with. Nor did she feel uncomfortable with revealing her demons to him; he’d always understood, when she had really needed him. Besides, he always offered practical advice and there was nothing like his work hard, play hard, attitude for getting over life’s little (and not so little) problems.
To Part Five
Part Four
It was beginning to feel like she should just move into the hospital, or at least rent out a room there so she could crash whenever she was in the general vicinity. In reality, this was only her second visit in three days, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was in and out of the place like a yoyo. Then again, hospitals had always felt like ominous places to Van Pelt as you could never be sure whether or not your loved ones would come out of the building alive or dead.
As promised, she headed straight towards Lisbon’s ward with a coffee in hand. Her superior immediately seemed to be in far brighter spirits than she had been two days beforehand and justifiably so. It was a relief to see at least one person she cared about well on the road to recovery. It also felt like a change. She was almost growing used to one blow after another, that nothing would faze her any more.
The visit didn’t last long. Though Lisbon was obviously feeling a lot better than she had been and would soon be discharged, socializing was still taking a lot out of her. And she would clearly have a long way to go before she was fit for work. Besides, her brother, James, was due imminently and it was more important that she talked to him than just Van Pelt. So, she placed the coffee on the bedside table with a wry smile before explaining her intentions. If California wouldn’t allow her the distractions she needed, she would go home to Iowa in order to find them. Besides, her dad would inevitably be thrilled to see her. He was always complaining that he didn’t see enough of his little Gracie these days.
After she left Lisbon in peace, she debated with leaving the hospital entirely. Melody was meant to be her big sister, the one who guided her through life. As a child, Van Pelt had idolized her, wanted to be just like her. Now, she couldn’t stand the sight of her. How could she be so selfish? Why couldn’t she see that there was a reason to life at all? Van Pelt spent most of her days staring at dead bodies or fighting to arrest criminals in one way or another and yet, she still had hope. So, it may have been waning of late, but she still had some. Things would get better for her eventually, after all, they couldn’t get much worse, could they?
But her sister, she just tried to end it all time and time again. She was the very definition of a tortured soul. Maybe even more so than Patrick Jane, who had at least tried to channel his energies, albeit in a very destructive manner. So, as she walked out of one ward and headed towards another, her feet dragged. Time seemed to slow. Her heart thumped painfully. Hadn’t she lost enough people lately? Though her sister’s psychiatrist had said she should be fine, it didn’t mean she would be. She could still theoretically make a turn for the worst. Or already have done so, while she had been stubbornly ignoring her cell phone in attempt to focus on her job.
Besides, they said bad luck happened in threes. The whole Red John and O’Laughlin debacle was one. Her sister attempting suicide again was the next. What would be the third? Melody actually dying?
All too soon, she was at the secure unit for inpatients who were also classified as a threat to themselves and others. This section of the hospital was oppressive; it always had been. Then again, the people they dealt with here were genuinely all in the same state as her sister: those who tried to kill themselves. They needed special care, watching at all hours just in case they tried it again. The ward also always seemed to have staff to match. Her heart sank when she saw they had yet another new receptionist manning the ward. This one looked more dour than the previous three put together.
“Hello, I’m here to see Melody Van Pelt?”
“And you are?” the receptionist asked, with narrowed eyes.
“Grace, her sister.”
“Have you got any I.D.?”
Van Pelt suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead, dug out her badge. She may have given one copy to LaRoche earlier, the one that she ordinarily kept clipped to her belt or slung around her neck, but that didn’t stop her from keeping the other. In a swift motion, she flipped the badge holder open, leaving her identity visible for just long enough for the receptionist to confirm she was telling the truth and closed it again. Van Pelt couldn’t help but notice the flicker of discomfort in the other woman’s eyes at realizing she was a cop and felt a quick rush of pride course through her veins. It was, after all, the kind of job that meant something to people. And it was one of the few things she could still cling hold of right now. Besides, this old bat didn’t know that she was technically just a rookie, either, Eventually, the receptionist gave her a swift nod and barked at her to make sure she washed her hands before allowing her entrance.
As she expected, her sister looked in a far sorrier state than Lisbon had done. Melody was still hooked up to oxygen, her eyes tightly shut and she seemed completely unaware of her current location. Machines surrounding her clicked, buzzed and flickered as they monitored all the appropriate statistics that the medics required. Still, Van Pelt sat beside her, placing her purse neatly by her feet. She was unfazed by all of this now, she had known what to expect when coming here. Briefly, she wondered if she should have bought some flowers, chocolate or something for Melody. After all, she had done so for her boss and Melody was her family. Then again, while Lisbon had clearly appreciated the gesture, Melody probably wouldn’t have cared either way. And going by the looks of her, the flowers would probably have died before she was even aware she’d been given any.
“Hi Mels,” she started briefly, feeling a little idiotic talking to a comatose woman. “You were right about O’Laughlin. He was a bastard.”
Van Pelt laughed humorlessly. During her brief moments of lucidity, Melody had always said that men were bastards. That they’d screw women over one way or another and it was best not to let them in in the first place. She hadn’t even approved of Rigsby, despite the fact they hadn’t even met and that Van Pelt had assured her multiple times that he was a really sweet guy. Out of all of her exes, he had been the one she had been closest to telling about Melody. Despite being engaged to O’Laughlin, she had never told him about her. Then again, he had always been far more interested in her famous football coach father than any other member of her family.
“He’s dead. I killed him. I had to, to save my life. And my boss’. You know, Lisbon? She’s in this hospital too,” Van Pelt continued, ignoring the tears springing up in her eyes. “Not that you care. You haven’t done for years. Damn it, Mels, I need you. Why can’t you be here for me? What have I done that’s so wrong? I need my big sister.”
Rushing slightly, she grabbed hold of her purse once more and swept out of the small room. There was no point in talking to Melody. It was only making things worse. She wasn’t about to wake up and give her advice on how to deal with her grief. Nor was she going to tell her that she’d done the right thing, killing her fiancé in order to save four other people. Even if she was to wake up, Melody was too wrapped up in her own problems to even care about how anybody else felt. It didn’t matter if other people’s lives were a living hell, Melody Van Pelt’s problems were always worse. Not that she let anybody know what these tragic secrets were. How could Van Pelt even try to save her if she wasn’t willing to make that first leap alone?
Once safely back in her car, she allowed the tears to cascade freely. Van Pelt didn’t want comfort, least of all from a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation, would just assume that she had received some bad news about a relative or something. Which was technically true, but there was so much more to her situation than that.
What she really needed right now, was a cuddle from her daddy.
xxx
As he promised, he was there to greet her as she deplaned. In his hands, was a plush toy and Van Pelt groaned inwardly. Since her mother’s death, he seemed to have taken the idea into his head that he had to buy her one each and every time he saw her. Something to do with them providing her with comfort, or the like. However, he hadn’t quite grasped the fact that she had long since grown out of the need to snuggle up to stuffed toys to go to sleep at night. Still, she knew she should be grateful; after all, it was the one somewhat feminine luxury he seemed to allow her.
The cuddly dog fell to his feet and she immediately dropped her luggage to accept the embrace. Finally, the little comfort she had so desperately craved. She buried her head in the crook of his neck as he ran a hand reassuring through her vibrant red locks. Van Pelt missed this, seeing him regularly. Most of the time, the job was worth it and she had made some wonderful new friends in Sacramento. However, after the week she was having, she realized there was nothing quite like a father’s love to get you through the tough times. If she could have the best of both worlds, he would have moved with her. But his career, along with his family roots, were firmly tied down to Iowa and he wasn’t going to sacrifice that for anybody. Not even her.
Wordlessly, he picked up the bag and led her towards his van. Feeling rather like a small girl again, despite being within two inches of Amos Van Pelt’s height, she fell into step behind him. Already, she was beginning to feel more at peace, being back at home. Things were simpler out here, easier to manage. It didn’t have the complications of living in a big city like Sacramento. In short, it was the perfect place to clear her mind. And her dad would be the perfect person to discuss her recent trials with. She had no need to feel guilty about lumbering him with additional stress that he couldn’t cope with. Nor did she feel uncomfortable with revealing her demons to him; he’d always understood, when she had really needed him. Besides, he always offered practical advice and there was nothing like his work hard, play hard, attitude for getting over life’s little (and not so little) problems.
To Part Five