Please see "A Mother's Goodbye" (also on my blog) for context.

 

Melinda awoke with a groan and stirred under the sheet, trying to clear the fog from her head. Her thoughts were still scattered and she wasn’t sure where exactly she was or how long she had been out. She only knew that the cold metal against her back meant something had gone horribly wrong and she likely needed to make herself scarce.

 

Not wanting to make a scene, she listened intently for signs of life in the room around her. After what felt like several minutes of nothing but the gentle ticking of a clock breaking the silence, she decided to make her move and cautiously sat up, pulling the sheet down to her chest.

 

A normal person would’ve been shocked at their surroundings, but then again she wasn’t exactly a normal person and waking up in a morgue wasn’t entirely alien to her. It also brought some level of relief as she could have, and had woken up in far worse places after feeling the cold, familiar touch of death temporarily and fruitlessly claiming her.

 

As the last of the fog cleared from her mind, she immediately remembered how she wound up bidding yet another temporary goodbye to the world of the living. She had been driving down main street on her way home from shopping and a delivery truck had come speeding out of a side-street right into the driver's side door of her car. The last thing she could remember before waking up here was searing pain all over body and the feeling of the car being thrown before she blacked out.

 

Oh how she would love to call up that 1-800 number and tell someone exactly how his driving was. It was an enticing thought, but outside of a horror movie a call from a dead woman complaining about her killer would be written off as a prank and not worth the risk to her cover.

 

Looking down at her bloodstained fur, she only had one immediate conflict and mild embarrassment with this whole mess. She really wished she’d have woken up with clothes on because sneaking out of a hospital in nothing but a sheet wasn’t high on the list of repeat performances that she enjoyed taking part in.

 

She also felt bad about the fact she would have to ask her easily embarrassed son to go into her room and find her some clothes to bring along when she met up with him. He was probably already a nervous wreck from waiting for her to get word to him without that little hurdle. Showing up covered in blood was also likely not to help matters. He was smart and mature for his age, but his understanding of her healing factor still didn’t do much to calm the instinctive emotional reaction to seeing his own mother looking like Bloody Mary Worth herself.

 

 

 

Had anyone even told him yet? He could be at home right now thinking her dead for real or in some sort of deep trouble. What about Sonic? If Miles did know Sonic likely did as well because those two were like brothers. That would mean undertaking the delicate process of letting him in on what she really was. She guessed when she re-grouped with Miles they would have to talk about that one. Even if he was unaware of her current situation the two were to close to keep Sonic out of the loop forever. Some of his other friends would likely have to be let in as well.

 

Those things would have to wait, however. Her her main concern was finding her way out of the hospital and to a phone, she would also have to see about recovering some of her things later on if they hadn’t been given to Miles yet. He more than likely would’ve had an interesting experience explaining the scottish broadsword in the backseat of her car and the dagger on her belt. She prayed if that was the case he remembered all those times she claimed to have studied ancient history in uni and rolled with it. The dagger could be written off as a combination of protection and the eccentricities history buffs often have.

 

She pulled the sheet tightly around her like a dress and as she climbed down off the table, thanking God that she hadn’t been shoved in a storage drawer yet. Not daring go looking for a light-switch, she relied on her naturally good night vision to find the door as she crossed the room. There was luckily no signs of life other than her own careful footsteps and nothing but a dark hallway greeted her as she cautiously eased open the door.

 

Peeking around the heavy wooden door she could plainly see the light from above illuminating the sign that marked the stairwell at the end of the hall. They must turn the basement lights off after the morgue staff leaves for the night and leave the rest of the place lit up, even after visiting hours. She figured it would be best to look for an emergency exit in the stairwell instead of trying to sneak through a hospital that was likely full of patients and staff. Introducing herself as the corpse that just came through trauma a few hours ago likely wouldn’t end well, or really in anything that didn’t involve a priest and liberal usage of the word zombie.

 

Of course, they’d have to deal with a body they’d assume stolen, which would mean they’d end up contacting Miles and Sonic before the next day was through to break the news to the next of kin and the person they’d assume was keeping an eye on him. She would owe that poor kid big time for the hell she was putting him through.

 

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A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled the sheet closer around her body for warmth as she dialed the numbers on the pay phone that luckily sat right across the street from the hospital. A cold August night was not the most opportune time to be using an outside payphone while nearly naked, save for a thin sheet obviously designed more to protect a corpses modesty that for warmth.

 

The phone rang once, twice, three times before a kid’s voice answered, one she knew well.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Miles, it’s me,” She barely spoke above a whisper, not wanting to draw to herself in the unlikely event that someone happened by.

 

“Mom? Are you okay? I was getting worried because it’s been hours since the accident and you were torn up pretty bad,” She could tell he was trying to stay calm, but he was obviously a nervous wreck and couldn’t hide that fact from her. She knew him too well for that.

 

“Honey, I’m fine. Are you doing okay?”

 

“I think so. I mean, I feel better now that I know you’re okay,” He sounded unsure and she could tell something was bothering him. Her maternal instincts made her want to talk to him about it right there, but she knew it would be best to wait until they were face to face.

“Miles, I need you to meet me somewhere but there’s something I need you do first. Can you do that, sweetie? Can you help me eith something?” She really did need his help, but she also figured getting his mind on the task would help calm him.

 

“Is something wrong?” He sounded worried.

 

“No, everything’s fine. I just sort of woke up, how do I put this?” She searched for the right words to say it delicately without embarrassing him too much, “If I said I woke up in my birthday suit, would you know what that meant?”

 

“Oh God. Mom,” embarrassment had definitely began to creep into his voice.

 

“Would it be less embarrassing if I mentioned I’m wearing a sheet?”

 

“A little”

 

“If it helps I could make into a toga or something,” She spoke in a obviously playful tone, intentionally try get a laugh out of him to ease the tension.

 

“Mom!” He said with a chuckle, just as she hoped he would. She could barely stand to hear him so upset and it was just as much a relief to her picturing the smile that must have brought to his face.

 

“I mean, I’m sure I could make one of those Roman crowns out of this bush behind me. That way I could even tell anyone that asks that the theater bus broke down.”

 

In reply to that they both broke down laughing, him in response to her joke, and her simply because it felt good to have a genuinely happy moment again after an evening that must have been hell for him, just as it was for her..

 

“Feeling a little better?” After several moments she finally caught her breath and found the ability to speak again.

 

“Yeah, I’m just glad that you’re okay,” She could hear the difference in his voice, he was still nervous but it was obvious that he had calmed down and his mood had elevated considerably.

 

“Think you can pack me a change of clothes and some soap with my other things, and meet me at the workshop you have in the ruins?”

 

The workshop in question wasn’t much, just a place to store his and Sonic’s plane, the Tornado and for them to occasionally spend a couple nights in when things were busy. There was a shower there she could use and it would give her and him some time alone to talk before one of his friends got worried and caught up. They needed to come up with a way to break it to them gently.

 

“Yeah, I’ll get things ready as fast as I can and see you there. Just be careful since you don’t have your sword,” He was a smart kid and obviously knew that some immortals would jump at the chance to come after her while she couldn’t effectively fight back.

 

“I promise I will, but be careful to,” She knew he could take care of himself, but it didn’t stop her from worrying about him just as much as he did her.

 

“I will. See you soon, mom.”

 

Her mind now at ease, one thought creeped to the forefront as she began to plan her next move. She absent-mindedly spoke it aloud as the realization hit her

 

“How the hell am going to make it to the Mystic Ruins?”

 

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“Oh, this wasn’t one my better ideas.” She groaned at the sudden impact as the train came to a halt. She had managed to make her way to the train-station a few blocks from the hospital and stow away in the baggage car of a train that was making it’s next stop in the ruins.

 

“Squawk! Suck it up! Squawk!”

 

“You’re lucky I like animals to much to make fried parrot out of spite!” She cursed the annoying bird that had been her only company the entire trip. It’s owner had definitely not taught it any manners but DID teach it a very colorful vocabulary and repertoire of phrases.

 

“Like you’d do it, toots!”

 

“Listen here, featherbrain, I-,” She was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps and knew he’s have to make herself scarce.

 

“You’re in trouble!”

 

“I want to make very clear that you haven’t won and I’m making a tactical retreat!” She hissed through her teeth as she made her way to the back door of the car and forced it open.

 

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She let out a sigh of relief as she reached the top of the cliff and the workshop came into view. The light in the window and familiar sounds of tools told her that he must have gotten there first and decided to work on something while he waited. He tended to put his mind to his work when he was nervous as a coping mechanism of sorts.

 

Rather than risk beating in the door, she crept around to the side of the building where she could see the light from the open garage door. Scanning the inside of the building she quickly spotted Miles with his head buried under the Tornado’s maintenance hatch as he fiddled around with something on the engine. Engrossed in his work, he didn’t notice her or respond as she made her way up behind him

 

He jumped when she placed her hand on his shoulder, and the the sounded of his head colliding with the metal hatch echoed into the night.

 

“Ouch!” He exclaimed as he slid to the floor, rubbing his head.

 

“Crap, are you okay, hun? I really didn’t mean you startle you like that.” She crouched down and gently brushed his hand out of the way to inspect for for injuries, “Here, let me see it.”

 

He reached up and placed his hand on hers, “Mom, I’m fine. I guess I just didn’t hear you come in”

 

“Sorry,” She adjusted the sheet around her body and sat down next to him

 

“I really didn’t expect you so soon, I figured it would take longer for you get here on foot,” Miles crossed his arms and leaned back against the the fuselage, facing her.

 

“I actually caught the 2:00AM from Station Square, it was the luggage car special if you catch my drift,” She gave him a sly smile

 

“I hope it it was pleasant, at least”

 

“I had a great time, except for the sudden stops and that damn parrot”

 

“Parrot?” Miles cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll explain later, right now I’d like to get cleaned up. I feel like Carrie White,” She looked down at the stained sheet covering her form like some macabre parody of a wedding dress.

 

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you do smell like that fridge Sonic forgot to plug in last summer,”

 

“Hey!” She laughed as she reached out and playfully messed up his head fur, “The gas and oil you seem to bathe in every time you work on this stuff doesn’t smell much better.”

 

“You can’t complain when I learned it from you!” he lunged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

 

“I guess not.” She returned the hug with her free arm and held him close as they both laughed.

 

It was a moment of calm, of happiness that melted away the stress of the night and temporarily put her mind at ease. The questions and fears looming over her faded for that instant because the moment was all that mattered. A moment of peace and genuine happiness between mother and son.

 

It was several minutes before they finally caught their breath and separated

 

“I left your things by the bathroom.” Miles crossed his legs on the floor as she stood up.

 

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble explaining the... “ She trailed off for a moment before motioning with her fingers to signify quotation marks ““Equipment”, that was with me”

 

“Your coat and the stuff you we’re carrying was the easy part. I think they kind of assumed the dagger was for protection, and you’re coat was untouched in the back save for some dust and debris from the crash. I just brushed it off.” His face turned bright red as mentioned the coat.

 

“Something wrong?” She found his reaction odd, as her coat didn’t seem like something he’d be embarrassed to handle. She even used to let him cover himself with it as they watched TV when he was was younger.

 

“I didn’t notice at the time, but I guess after I pulled it out I was hugging it like some kind of security blanket and wouldn’t let go. Sonic mentioned it later because it freaked him out and he was afraid I’d gone into shock or something.” He averted his gaze, obviously embarrassed, “I just feel stupid for being that worried”

 

“Hey, I’m sure it was a stressful moment,” she leaned back against the tailfin of the plane.

 

“I just felt dumb because I knew you’d be okay.”

 

“Maybe, but no-one else did and I’m sure it was hard when no-one was there to talk about how I’d be sneaking out of the hospital morgue dressed in a bedsheet later, which reminds me. I don’t know if there was any cameras down there but if you see anything about leaked footage of a ghost roaming the hospital basement, download me a copy, ” She said.

 

“Thanks, and I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckled.

 

“Did you have any trouble getting my sword?”

 

“Er, not really. I got the some funny looks when I snapped out of it and fished out of the car, though,” He rubbed the back of his head and grinned, “I remember Sonic talking about it looking like something out of Braveheart.”

 

“I’m honestly kind of surprised he was able to recognize a Scottish sword that WASN’T a claymore, he’s smarter I give him credit for.” She gave a playful smirk.

 

“He did manage to keep this plane from falling apart before I met him. I mean, only barely but it still flew,” Miles grinned right back

 

“Hey, there’s some stuff I want to talk about after I get cleaned up. Find some warm clothes and we can go for a walk. I’ve spent way too time stuck inside cramped spaces today,”
“
Sure thing.”

 

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Melinda let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through her matted hair as she made her way towards the bathroom mirror, letting the sheet wrapped around her body drop to the floor as walked. The duffle bag in her hand made a soft thump as she tossed it on the counter with her sword resting on top.

 

She wasn’t wrong when she assumed she looked like hell and the first thing she noticed was the blood streaked down her face from what must have been a head wound. She looked down and ran her fingers over the similar stains on her chest and stomach, then picked at the matted fur. She instinctively ran her finger over a particularly dark spot below her breast, along one of her lower ribs and winched.

 

“The hell?” She looked down and saw a bit of fresh blood on her finger tips.

 

She stepped closer to the mirror and noticed something shiny in her side, barely large enough to visible. She ran her fingers over it again, more carefully and felt something hard and brittle embedded into her side. She dug in with her nails and carefully grasped the object before gently pulling it out.

 

She held it up to the light, a shard of metal about an inch long and half as wide as it’s biggest.

 

“I hate it when that happens,” Occasionally large chunks of debris like bullets or the aforementioned shrapnel could interfere with her healing abilities and keep wounds forced open, and thus had to be dug out.

 

She tossed the chunk of metal in the sink and pulled a bottle of soap out of one of the pouches on the side of the bag before stepping across the room and opening the shower door.

 

A moan escaped her mouth as she fiddled with the knobs and finally felt the warm water run over her body, she just stood there a moment, letting it wash over her before scrubbing at a spot on her stomach.

 

She took the moment to think about what she had decided to do and how she would go about it. Normally her kind would handle this sort of thing by packing it up sneaking away to somewhere they wouldn’t be recognized, somewhere they could make a new identity for themselves. Not this time, though.

 

The thought of sticking around somehow had crossed her mind, but it was at that moment when she held her son close and listened to him laugh that she knew she couldn’t run. She would obviously never leave him behind and she also knew she couldn’t rip him away from his friends. She could never hurt him like that.

 

Instead of running she would stay and face this mess. With his help she’d find a way to explain what was going on to everyone in their lives. Granted, that was easier said than done because it wasn’t like she could just walk up to them and unceremoniously spit it out. Detailed explanations and convincing would be in order.

 

“Hi, I just wanted to let you know that even though I died in a horrible car wreck I’m better now because I’m actually a 1200 year old immortal warrior that just found your friend in the woods when he was a baby and adopted him.”

 

She began to scrub her matted hair as she contemplated the best way to break the news to everyone.

 

Sonic and Knuckles had both seen some strange things in their travels, so they would likely be the easiest to break it to. If it came down to it, the old tried and true method of demonstrating her healing factor would do the job. A simple cut on the hand could suffice with no theatrics or fanfare. She still had no idea why so many of her old friends went straight to mortally wounding themselves when a small demonstration is much less traumatizing for those involved.

 

Amy, well Amy’s potential reaction honestly scared her the most because that hammer really looked painful. Maybe Miles or one of the others she told first would know of a way to handle it.

 

Then there was Val and her daughter, Cream. That poor kid probably lost it the minute someone explained to her what had happened. She have to be careful and patient dealing with both of them.

 

For the next few minutes she simply tried to relax and enjoy in the feeling of the warm water rinsing away the soap from her fur and taking any last bits debris and blood with it, watching as the swirl of red being washed down the drain slowly faded away and was replaced by nothing but water.

 

After finally shutting off the water, she grabbed a towel and dried the water from her hair before quickly rubbing it around her shoulders, arms, torso, and finally legs in an attempt to dry as much of the water from her fur as she could. She then grabbed her tail and began to work the water out of the matted and soaked fur as she made her way over to the counter.

 

She rummaged around in the bag, pulling out her undergarments and slipping them on. It felt good to finally be wearing something besides a sheet. When she looked up into the mirror she adjusted the straps of her bra and smiled, glad to finally be looking like something resembling normal. It was strange how quickly things were settling down for the moment.

 

Her jeans were the next thing she fished out of the bag. She savored the feeling of finally putting on some warm clothing as she pulled them on and buttoned them up before pulling up the zipper. Almost instinctively, she began rummaging through her pockets and pulled her wallet from her right front pocket. She ran her thumb over the upraised dark blue Celtic design set against the light blue leather of the wallet, which remained surprisingly clean and untouched.

 

The image on her ID smiled back at her when she flipped it open. She could almost recite the information from memory just the way she wrote it nine years ago when she had to adopt a legal identity for the first time in years to adopt Miles.

 

Melinda Rosemary Prower, born March 7, 1986 on Cocoa Island. Height: 4ft, 6in, Weight: 90lbs, Hair: Black, Eyes: Green.

 

Over half of it was fiction of her own invention, even her birth place was a lie because she couldn’t really list a place that no longer existed outside of historical documents. Her first name and physical description were the only things were things that weren’t outright lies serving to mask her true nature, and soon most of those would belong to a women seen as dead by the system while she carried new ones. It was the same endless cycle repeating itself.

 

A list of names cycled through her head as she quickly finished dressing. She had been a honorary member of the MacLeod clan once, would a name like be too obvious with the legacy it carried? Reinard maybe? She’d have to come up with something.
She made sure her gear was secure and pulled on her her overcoat before reaching for the doorknob. The next few hours were going to be interesting, to say the least.