Chapter Text
The world around Shauna had shifted in an instant. After the rescue, everything became a blur—urgent voices, flashing lights, and the cold rush of the ambulance as they sped toward the hospital.
Shauna was a mess. Her hair was matted, her eyes wild and darting, as if every sound and motion were a threat. Touch startled her. Lights hurt her eyes. The presence of doctors and nurses was too much. She flinched at kindness, couldn't sit still and couldn't bear to be touched.
Overstimulated didn't even begin to describe it. She was drowning in a world she no longer recognized—too loud, too bright, too fast.
She only allowed her parents to visit—and even they had to approach her with caution, like one would a wounded wild animal. She couldn't handle seeing anyone else—especially not her teammates that were all in the same hospital as her. Not that they would want to see her anyway, after everything she had done.
It was another sleepless night.
Shauna lay on the narrow hospital bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Her body was still, but her mind was restless, looping memories she wished she could forget, trapped in nightmares that didn't end when she was awake.
It had been so long since she had slept through the night that she almost forgot what it felt like.
Almost.
Because if she let herself remember, she could still feel it—the quiet of her hut, strong arms wrapped protectively around her, the steady rhythm of a breath against her neck lulling her into peace.
But all of that was gone for a while now, and she had no one to blame but herself.
And now she was trapped in this cold, lifeless hospital room, left alone with nothing but her thoughts and the crushing weight of guilt.
She tossed and turned a few more times, trying to force herself to sleep until she felt it. That strange, familiar prickling sense—like someone was watching her.
She turned her head slowly toward the window that looked out into the corridor.
Melissa was standing there.
Her long hair was braided into two neat plaits, though a few strands had come loose and clung to her face. And her eyes were tired, shadowed by dark circles and something Shauna couldn't quite name. Heartbreak. Or guilt. Or maybe it was hate, mixed with something that almost looked like longing.
Shauna froze.
For a long breathless moment, neither of them moved. They just stayed there, staring at each other.
Melissa's eyes were locked on her, like she was trying to read every line in her face, searching for something real beneath the sharpness, beneath the wall Shauna had built.
And in that moment Shauna almost let her guard slip. Just for a second, she felt it—an impulse to nod, to give Melissa some kind of sign that it was okay to come in, that she wanted her to.
But she didn't. She forced herself to stay still, guarded. Her expression turned sharp, her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched.
Shauna looked at her like a challenge. Like, Go ahead. Knock. Come in if you're brave enough.
It was a test. One last, silent wall she put up to see if Melissa would try to break through. Come on. If you're not scared of me. If you meant any of it. Come in.
But Melissa never did.
For a moment, it seemed like she might raise her hand to knock or just open the door and step inside. But instead, she dropped her gaze, let out a breath, and then turned around and walked away.
Just like that. She left.
Shauna stayed frozen in place, staring at the window even after Melissa was gone. Her chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it. And no matter how hard she tried to deny it, a feeling of disappointment started to creep in, slow and quiet but sharp enough to sting.
Eventually, Shauna shook herself out of it, forcing her eyes away from where Melissa was standing not too long ago.
She rolled onto her side and yanked the blanket up to her chin like it could somehow block everything out. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter—that she didn't care, that she wanted to be alone anyway.
She kept lying to herself that the only reason she stayed awake until dawn, her eyes constantly flickering at the door, was because she couldn't sleep and not because she secretly hoped the door would eventually open and Melissa would step inside.
The next day, Shauna was told that most of her teammates had gone home—including Melissa. But she had to stay in the hospital a little longer for some more tests. They had diagnosed her with postpartum psychosis, borderline personality disorder and PTSD. Terms that felt foreign to her, back then.
After two more long weeks in the hospital, a handful of prescriptions and some therapy appointments set up, Shauna was finally cleared to go home.
Home. A word she had said a thousand times before, but now it felt strange. Unfamiliar. Empty.
Her room had remained untouched. The furniture was still in its place, the pictures still hung on the walls—shots of birthday parties, smiling faces, bright eyes frozen in time. It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. Nothing felt like it belonged to her anymore.
Shauna isolated herself for days. She didn't want to see anyone, didn't answer calls or knocks at the door. She only left her room to go the bathroom, moving like a ghost through her own house. Most of the time she lay still, staring at the ceiling or curling into herself beneath the covers.
The room was filled with reminders of her best friend. Smiling pictures on the walls, echoes of their endless conversations, whispered secrets and laughter that used to make the walls feel alive.
But now everything was still. Too still.
And the mattress was too soft beneath her, the walls felt closer than she remembered and the silence was suffocating. No sounds of crackling fire, no rustling of leaves or the soft breaths of Melissa sleeping next to her.
Her mind kept drifting back to the hut.
The small, rough shelter in the wilderness that had no doors that locked, no real protection from the cold. But somehow, it had felt more like home than this room ever would.
There, with Melissa, she had felt safe.
Not in the way a house is supposed to make you feel safe, but in a way that was quieter. Deeper. A sense of belonging she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just about warmth or shelter—it was about the person beside her.
The way they had managed to have something steady in the middle of chaos. The way, even in the middle of the dark woods and darker days, they had created a space that felt theirs.
God, she missed her.
The flashes of her grin that always caught Shauna off guard, like sunshine after too many gray days. The way her eyebrows pulled into that small, concentrated frown when she talked about something she was passionate about. And how Melissa always managed to make her feel seen, to not be afraid of being her real self.
And Shauna knew she had hurt her.
She had pointed a gun at her—shot at her. She had said things she couldn’t take back, words filled with fear and rage and pain. Words she hadn’t meant, not really, but had spoken anyway. And that was the part that haunted her the most.
She had seen the hurt in Melissa’s eyes. She had caused it.
And because of that she wasn’t even angry that Melissa had tried to take revenge—had tried to kill her.
Honestly, the only thing that made her blood boil was that Melissa hadn’t succeeded.
Because, part of her thought maybe she deserved it. For the things she’d said. For the things she’d done.
But she was still here.
Still alive.
And so was Melissa.
She hadn’t seen her in weeks—not since that moment outside her hospital room. And she missed her more that she could ever admit, even to herself.
And then something in her snapped. That was it. The walls were pressing in, the memories clawing at her. She couldn’t stand to spend another second in this room.
She got out of bed, her movements sharp, restless. Her hands moved blindly, grabbing the first clothes she could find: a hoodie and a pair of jeans crumpled on the chair. And she quietly crept down the stairs, careful not to wake her mother. Her footsteps barely made a sound, but her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.
Then she was out.
The night was cold, but she didn’t feel it. The air hit her face and it was like taking her first breath in days.
She began making her way toward the place Melissa had said she lived.
She didn’t have a plan.
She didn’t know what she was going to say, if anything at all. She didn’t know if Melissa would even answer the door, or what she might say if she did. She didn’t know if she’d be met with anger, or silence, or a door shut in her face.
But she knew she had to see her.
With each step, her heart beat faster—not from fear, but from something else.
Hope. Or maybe something that had once been hope, trying to come back to life.
When she finally reached Melissa’s house, she froze.
She stood at the edge of the walkway, breath catching in her throat. Everything was still. Too still. There were no lights glowing from the windows, no sign of life behind the walls. The porch light was off. The curtains were drawn. The air felt heavier here, like even the street was holding its breath.
And then she saw the sign.
A large white board, planted right in the middle of the lawn.
Bold red letters across the front:
FOR SALE
The words hit her like a punch to the chest.
For a second, she couldn't breathe.
She blinked slowly, trying to convince herself that maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Melissa’s house after all. Maybe she’d taken a wrong turn or—
But no. This was the house. The same one Melissa had once described to her in hushed tones by the fire, —"white with green shutters, little garden out front, right next to the local ice cream shop. Just down the street from Taissa's." Shauna had memorized it back then, without even meaning to.
And now it looked like no one had touched it in weeks. Dead flowers lay scattered in the front yard —once colorful and bright, now faded and dry.
The garden, which Melissa had once described with pride, looked forgotten, as if no one had been home for a long time.
Her chest ached in a way she wasn’t ready for.
She had briefly imagined so many versions of this night. Melissa opening the door, surprised but not angry. Melissa asking her in. Or even slamming the door in her face—anything. She had prepared herself for rejection, for confusion, for a fight. But she hadn’t prepared for absence.
The possibility that Melissa might already be gone hadn’t crossed her mind—not really. And now, looking at the sign, the truth settled in all at once:
She was too late.
Shauna’s knees felt weak. She lowered herself to the ground in front of the house, not caring that the pavement was cold or that her jeans would catch the dirt. She just sank down, slowly, like her body had given up trying to hold her upright.
She just sat there in the quiet, staring at the place where Melissa used to live—where maybe, there had still been a chance to make things right.
But Melissa was gone.
And whatever fragile hope had still clung to Shauna slipped away with her.