"murphy brown: close" (fan fiction)

8/2/2019 "MURPHY BROWN: Close" (Fan Fiction)

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/murphy-brown-close-fan-fiction 1/19

³Murphy Brown: Close´

By M.L. Zambrana

³LOOK OUT!´

Miles Silverberg turned around, his headset in one hand and the news program¶s

shooting script in the other. Surprised by the sudden shout of the security guard who

stood near the edge of the ³FYI´ set, he watched in shock as a tall, heavyset man with

glasses dashed across the floor. The man¶s dark eyes glittered with cold desperation as

he headed straight for Murphy Brown, a large hunting knife clutched in his left hand.

The rest of the crew stood and stared in shock and disbelief as the strange man,

followed closely by the security guard, rushed towards the gray news desk. Filming had

concluded only a minute before and everyone had begun to disperse; only Miles and

Murphy remained on the set itself. Nobody stood between the knife-wielding intruder

and Murphy Brown except for Miles.



Miles saw in an instant that the guard trailed too far behind the crazed man to stop

him, and his protective instincts towards his co-worker kicked in. Before any rational

fear could take hold of his mind and freeze him in place, Miles took three quick steps

forward and locked his hands around the left wrist of the man (in doing so, he noted with

some alarm that his head only came up to the guy¶s shoulders). He hooked his foot

around the man¶s ankle at the same time and effectively tripped him, but then a heavy

arm wrapped around his neck and he fell to the ground as well.

Several pains overwhelmed Miles at once. He felt pain from his right shoulder

as he hit the concrete floor, the kick of the man¶s knee against his shin, the strain of

muscles and tendons in his ankle as his foot twisted to one side« and then a

pressure-filled, burning sensation across his abdomen that erased everything else. He

screamed out in shock and agony, barely aware that by that time, the guard and a couple

of stagehands had made it to him and had begun to subdue the attacker. Freed from the

tangle of bodies, Miles wrapped his hands around his midsection and rolled onto his side.

Just before he passed out, Miles realized that his fingers felt very warm.

Although Murphy Brown maintained a confident, professional attitude throughout

her conversations with various police officers, detectives and hospital staff about what

happened, the sight of a pale, motionless Miles Silverberg stretched out on the hospital

bed pulled away her bravado in an instant.



Murphy¶s emotions threatened to escape her as she stood in the doorway and

looked at him, and she had to force herself to stop and pull in several long, slow breaths.

She wouldn¶t stand for any melodramatic bedside crying scenes any more than Miles

would, and she put the expression that she¶d worn all evening²one of stoic

determination.

With a light push, Murphy shut the hospital room door behind her and stepped

towards the prone form of her friend. Her high heels on the tile floor echoed around the

room, and the familiar sound caused Miles to stir. He opened his eyes and blinked a

few times.

³Hey, Murphy.´ Miles reached up with his I.V.-laden left hand to rub at his

face. ³Wow. I must¶ve dozed off.´ He lowered his hand with a wince. ³Good

drugs,´ he joked.

Murphy pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. ³I¶ll bet,´ she replied with

a tight smile. ³How about you share µem next time, huh?´

Miles looked down and checked to make sure that he hadn¶t twisted the plastic

tubing with his movements, then he glanced over at his friend with obvious gratitude.

³Thanks for coming to see me. It¶s been a long day and you probably just want

to go home. I know that I sure do.´

³Yea. Well, I had to come. After all, you¶re my hero now.´ Murphy reached

up and brushed one hand against his dark hair²a quiet, simple gesture that brought a

comfortable smile to Miles¶ face.

³Are you doing all right?´ he asked.

³Are you?´ she countered as she brought her hand back down to her lap.



Miles nodded, his expression sober. Murphy didn¶t know that beneath the thin

hospital sheet lay a lot more damage than the knife wound. A nurse had secured his

badly-sprained left ankle in a solid plastic brace, and a large gauze bandage, wrapped

numerous times around his torso, kept his right shoulder close to his body; the initial fall

to the ground, coupled with the weight of the man n top of him, had done a decent

amount of damage. Both injuries meant that he¶d have to stay in bed and would be

unable to use crutches. Large bruises peppered his skin in several areas, and a mild

concussion topped off the rest of the unseen damage. All that, aside from the two hours

that Miles spent in surgery to close the knife damage done to his belly.

³I¶ve certainly been better,´ he replied in a neutral tone. ³How about you?´

She took in a breath. ³A little scared, that¶s all. We all are. Security has been

doubled for the next two weeks, and maybe longer. They¶re worried about a copycat

trying the same thing.´

He pursed his lips. ³Oh, please. Someone¶s just looking to cover their ass. A

little late for that, huh?´

³Yea,´ she said with a quick laugh. ³I agree.´

The two of them fell silent and stared at one another for a long time before

Murphy spoke again.

³It¶s good to know that you¶ll be all right, Miles,´ she told him. ³I²³

"Miles?"

Miles Silverberg and Murphy Brown glanced towards the hospital room door as a

concerned, nervous voice interrupted their conversation.

A dark-haired woman stood with one hand against the doorframe for support, her



gaze riveted on Miles. He took in a quick breath, and Murphy glanced between the two

of them in honest surprise. She couldn¶t help but notice that the woman's hair, the shape

of her face and the style of her light brown suit appeared to be a perfect feminine

reflection of Miles.

³Oh, my God,´ Murphy breathed.

The woman rushed forward, then stopped a foot away from the bed and knelt

down, one hand on Miles¶ shoulder and her gaze firmly fixed on his face. She remained

motionless for a moment, then tilted her head and sighed.

"You're all right, then?" she asked with a quick nod of her head.

Miles nodded, a blank expression on his face. "Yea, I'm... I'm fine. Iµll be

fine."

She blinked, paused, and then asked, "What happened?"

Miles¶ tense expression eased, and he placed one hand on his stomach. "There

was a little skirmish at the studio. Some nut showed up with a knife--" Miles shook

his head. "I¶m sorry. I should've known that youµd²³

The woman muttered something to Miles, but Murphy couldn't seem to make out

the words in her speech. It sounded like a series of childlike gurgles and mumblings,

the same types of sounds that Murphy¶s son often made, but with the last word raised at

the end... as if she'd asked a question.

Miles responded with the same babbling baby talk, and Murphy sat back in her

chair and crossed her arms, confused. The strange, almost wordless conversation

between the woman and Miles continued for another minute until Miles began to laugh.

At that point, unable to stand the mystery of the situation any more, Murphy held up her



thin hands.

"Whoa! Hold on a second, here. Did I just step into the Twilight Zone?

What is this? I don't understand a word you two are saying."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The woman cleared her throat. "It's called 'twin speech.' It's

kind of a language of our own."

Miles cleared his throat, the sound a perfect match to the one that the woman had

uttered. "Murphy,´ he said in a soft voice, ³this is Millie. Millie Perkins."

The woman slid down onto the edge of the bed and took Miles¶ hand. ³No, it¶s

Silverberg again. Things, ah« things didn¶t work out.´

Murphy let out a surprise laugh. ³It came as a shock to everyone that you had a

brother, Miles! And you never even mention your parents. Now you¶re telling me that

you've got a sister²and a twin, at that!´ She shook her head in amused disbelief.

³Got any other surprise relatives in your closet that I should know about?"

"No," he replied in an exasperated tone.

Millie smiled. "So you don't mention Mom and Dad either, huh?" Her smile

faltered. "Or me?"

Miles looked away from her and sighed. "Look, it's been a really tough week,

and I'd just as soon not drag all this up right now.´ He glanced over at Murphy and

waved one hand in her direction. ³And in front of Murphy Brown, of all people. It's

not a good idea to let her know too much of anything."

Murphy crossed her arms and smirked. "Oh, come on, Miles. Are you still

mad at me for that little prank?"

Miles frowned. "Do you know what she did during the last holiday? She had



all the calendars changed to Jewish years, even on the computers. The whole office

went around saying, µShalom¶ for about a week!"

"You never could take a joke," Millie chided with raised eyebrows.

"A joke is a joke," he persisted, "but when you go out in the parking lot and find a

giant yalmucha on the top of your car, that's when it goes too far!" He pointed a finger

at Murphy. ³Do you have any idea what it's like to drive through rush-hour traffic while

people play µHava Nagila¶ with their car horns?"

Murphy winked and stood up. "Well I think I'd better get back to work before

Miles drags up the Easter incident. Nice to have met you, Millie."

Millie leaned forward and shook hands with Murphy. "It was nice to meet you,

too."

Miles sunk back against his pillow. "Don¶t think that I forgot about the brisk

you gave the Easter Bunny!" he shouted to Murphy's retreating figure.

Millie watched as Murphy shot an amused glance over her shoulder and slipped

out the doorway, then she looked at Miles with her eyebrows raised. "They gave a

rabbit a brisk?"

"Well, it was a stuffed rabbit. They put a huge band-aid between his legs and set

him on my desk with a note that said, 'Congratulations on a successful snipping.' The

next day I got a postcard from a vet that said it was time for Hoppy to get his shots."

Millie crossed her legs and laughed. "Oh, that's good."

"It's not funny. Have you ever tried to cancel an appointment for a stuffed

animal?"

"Can't say that I have."



Despite his obvious irritation, a low chuckle escaped Miles. "We're always

doing things like that to each other, though."

"It sounds like fun."

"It is, I guess." He paused and gave Millie a curious look. "So you felt my

pain? Is that why you're here?"

"Well, I expected to find you dying of stomach cancer or something.´

³It was that strong,´ he marveled. ³Wow. Honestly, if I though you would

pick up on it, I would've called you."

³Yea. Sure.´

Without meeting her gaze, Miles patted her hand. ³How long will you be in

town?"

"Well, I took a week off work. But since you're okay, I suppose I might as well

go back tomorrow."

"Don't leave yet," he said quickly. He swallowed and reached out to touch her

shoulder. "Please. I'd like for you to stay a couple of days. I« I miss you, Millie.

I really do."

"If I hadn't been watching the credits on 'FYI,'" she replied in a bitter tone, "I

wouldn't even know where you were these days. Now, with the way that Mom and Dad

were, I can understand not saying anything. But with me?´ She shook her head and

frowned. ³You had no reason to walk out and leave me alone like that."

Miles looked around. " Let's not get into this now."

"Why not?" she asked in a grumpy voice.

"Because I can tell that you're tired. Probably haven¶t slept in a couple of days.



Where are you staying?´

She shrugged. ³I just got into town. Haven¶t found a hotel yet.´

³Well, there¶s no need to.´ He pointed over to the closet in the corner. ³Get

my keys out of my jacket and go back to my apartment. You can stay with me as long

as you¶d like. I should be out of here in a day or two, and then I can start getting my life

back on track.´

³S hhh«´

It took Millie¶s soothing voice to pull Miles back to consciousness. The

nightmare faded quickly as soon as he had his eyes open again. He no longer found

himself re-living that moment of the attack, and instead, he awoke in his own bedroom,

the sheets damp from the night sweat of his terror. He instinctively reached for his

sister¶s hand and the cool touch of her skin, clasped in his hot and sweaty grip, helped to

still the scream in his throat.

³What time is it?´ he asked in a hoarse voice.

³A little after six o¶clock,´ she responded in a sleepy voice.

His eyebrows came together and he glanced at the orange glow that seeped in

through the closed curtains. ³In the morning?´

³No, at night.´

Miles drew a shaky hand over his damp forehead and let out a weak whistle.



³Wow. It seems like I¶ve been asleep longer than that.´ He pushed the sheet

off his body and glanced down at his bruised and bandaged torso. Millie half-turned

and looked at his body in disbelief, then reached over and turned on the lamp by his

bedside.

³Man,´ she mumbled as she ran her hands over the bandages. ³He really did a

number on you, huh?́ Her fingertips stroked the shoulder bandage, then she rubbed at

her own right shoulder. ³Barely noticed that. The stomach pains were ten times

worse.´

³Yea, I know. I was there.´

Miles gave her a playful swat, his eyes squinted against the light, then he looked

back down at the bandage across his stomach. He pointed at the stains that had seeped

through. ³You might want to leave. I¶ve, ah, got to change this thing now.´

³Can I help?´

He shrugged. ³If you want. It¶s pretty disgusting, though.´ He winced as

Millie tugged at the surgical tape on the soiled bandage against his midsection.

"Easy," he hissed through his teeth.

She removed the bandage with swift, sure tugs and tossed it into the nearby trash

can, then studied the stitched-up knife wound in his stomach with disbelief.

"That must be deep,´ she breathed.

He pointed to the stitches in his stomach. ³How does it feel to you?"

³It feels like I'm digesting glass. Thanks for asking.´ She started to reach for

the new bandages stacked on the bedside table, then shook her head. ³It¶s been a few

days, brother. You need a sponge bath in the worst way, I¶m telling you.´



³Oh, come on«´

³Don¶t µoh, come on¶ me. I came here to take care of you, and damn it, I¶m

going to do it right. I¶m your sister, for crying out loud. You think that I haven¶t seen

you in the buff before?´

Miles blushed. ³Yea, but« that was years ago!´

³Do you want to sit here in your own stink? I¶ve got no problem with letting

you do that, bud.´

He let out a frustrated sigh. ³Fine, fine. I¶m not going to argue with you,´ he

muttered.

She gave a firm nod and patted him on the leg as she walked away. As he

listened to the water running in the bathroom, Miles slid his pajama bottoms off of his

hips and, with some effort, managed to kick them down his legs and onto the floor. He

looked down at himself with some embarrassment, then pulled the sheet back over his

hips.

Millie returned and set a small pail of soapy water onto the floor, perched herself

on the edge of the bed, then pulled a wet washcloth out of the pail and wrung it out.

Miles blinked rapidly as he watched her yank the sheet down to the end of the bed, one

hand over his bandaged left ankle. She studiously ignored his nudity and pointed at his

feet.

³I¶m going to take off the brace,´ she warned him. She pulled the

Velcro-and-plastic invention away from his foot and studied his swollen limb. ³Does

this hurt?´ she asked.

He closed his eyes. The pain of the ankle sprain didn¶t really compare to the



humiliation he felt at being bathed like a baby; he hadn¶t been naked in front of her since

before puberty.

³It hurts a little,´ Miles admitted.

³Sorry.´

With careful strokes, Millie applied the warm washcloth to his foot, re-fastened

the ankle brace, then washed his other foot. She folded the washcloth and cleaned his

legs, taking care not to press down on the large bruise across his shin.

³I felt that,´ she mumbled to herself.

Miles let out a nervous swallow as she moved up his legs, but with a cynical

wink, she skipped his privates.

³I think you can clean this up by yourself,´ she said with a smirk.

³Yea. Thanks.´

Her humor disappeared again as she wrung out the washcloth and let it sit in the

water while she eased Miles into a sitting position and carefully removed the soiled

shoulder bandage, then washed his torso.

³Time for the sling, I think,´ she muttered. ³Unless you want me to bind you

back up again?´

³No, no. That¶s fine. I don¶t need the mummy treatment any more. It¶s much

better than it was.´

After she cleaned his chest, neck and face, Millie handed him the washcloth and

discreetly turned away while he finished the job. She then took the pail back into the

bathroom and dumped the water, returning with a dry towel, clean bandages, cotton balls

and a bottle of peroxide.



Miles settled back down onto his pillows and watched in silence as Millie slowly

cleaned the neatly-stitched the knife wound with small, gentle strokes, then dried his

stomach and applied a new bandage. Before she could begin to dry the rest of him off,

however, Miles reached over and took her hand.

"Millie,´ he said in a soft voice, ³I'm sorry."

"For what? Getting stabbed?´ She flashed him a grin. ³Like you could help

it?´

³No. I¶m« sorry for a lot of things. A lot of things that I¶ve never told you

that I¶m sorry for, but I probably should have said so a long time ago,´ he said in a rush

of words. He stopped and took in a breath. ³I¶m sorry that you feel things like this,

when I never feel anything that happens to you.´

Millie freed her hand from his and patted the towel around his bruised shoulder.

³It¶s something that we can¶t help, Miles,´ she said in a low voice, unable to look at him.

³It¶s just how we were born. I can¶t help the way that I am« any more than you can.

I understood that years ago. You never tried to.´

He rubbed one hand over his face in frustration. His twin would always be an

extension of himself, and yet he¶d denied her existence in so many ways, even though

she¶d never done anything wrong to him. She had been the only one that had never

argued with him or laughed at him, like everyone else had at one time or another, even

his brother. Not even after he'd²

Deserted her. T hat's what you did. He winced at the thought, but the merciless

words continued to flow through his mind. N o words or even a g oodb ye to her. Y ou

just walked out of her life.



Only the slightest stab of guilt accompanied the thought, however. Mostly, he

felt filled with a sense of wonder for his sister. Millie had always been a much more

understanding and accepting person than her hotheaded twin brother. If their current

situation had been reversed and she had been injured, he wondered whether or not he

would have gone to her. He doubted it, and he hated himself a little for that.

Miles opened his mouth. He wanted to continue, to try and make restitution for

every painful word and deed he¶d ever done to his twin, but he didn¶t know how to reach

out to her, how to apologize for something that had been set in their patterns since birth.

Instead, the conversation went in a different direction.

³You never told me,´ he heard himself say. ³What happened with Danny

Perkins? You¶re not married any more?´

Millie looked up with a pained expression.

³No,´ she admitted with a sigh. ³We wanted different things. I wanted a

husband. Turns out, so did he.´ She shrugged and managed a crooked smile. ³My

dating instincts were never that good, you know.´

³So he²³

³Ran off with another man,´ she cut him off. ³Yea. Ten months ago. Thanks

for asking.´

Millie stood up and balled the bath towel up in her hands. ³And thanks for being

there,´ she added as she walked out of the bedroom.

Miles winced. Even though the words stung, he didn¶t detect any particular

anger in her voice, only the usual tone of tired resignation that she¶d always used with

him.



³«break-in at your apartment«´

³Y our sister has been«´

³«hospital, where she«´

³«Miles, are you«´

Time had ceased to matter for Miles.

What should have been a normal day back at work had, once again, become a

nightmare in his life. The words and moments of everything around him all flowed

together²a potpourri of images filled with both the familiar and unfamiliar. Maybe a

half-hour had passed since heµd gotten the news« maybe an hour, or even two« but

Miles couldn¶t concentrate onto the situation until he stood in the Intensive Care Unit of

the hospital. The words of a strange policeman struck him and brought the situation

home.

"We just need confirmation. Is this your sister, Mr. Silverberg?"

The police officer repeated the question patiently with sympathy in his voice, but

Miles found that he could not respond. He stared at the clean white tile floor at his feet,

unable to acknowledge the officer¶s words with more than a slight nod.

"It's her," Miles heard Murphy Brown said behind him.

Miles heard the policeman scribble something down, then he gave Murphy a faint

"Thank you" before he left the room.

Murphy¶s cool hand rested against his shoulder. "Do you want to be alone with



her?"

Miles made himself nod again. Murphy's hand squeezed his shoulder, and she

left the room.

Even before the door hissed shut, Miles regretted his mute response. The steady

hum of electricity from the hospital equipment seemed to grow louder and more urgent.

He didn't want to be alone with the broken shell of the person in front of him.

Finally, Miles managed to focus on an orange plastic chair, and he walk towards it

with slow, reluctant steps. He settled down on the edge of the chair, then looked up at

Millie's pale face.

She had been washed off in the Emergency Room, but not very well²around the

numerous clear plastic tubes, dried blood still caked the inside of her nose, her ears and

the edge of her mouth. Several bruises had begun to appear on her chin and below her

eyes, and he reached out to stroke an inch-long cut, neatly sutured with black thread,

along her cheek.

Miles started to reach for her hands, but her left arm had been broken in three

places and now rested in a cast up to her shoulder. Her right hand had an assortment of

I.V. needles attached to the top of it, and a brace encircled her broken right wrist. He

ran his fingertips over her bandaged head, and noticed with a sharp pain of dismay that a

drainage tube ran out of the other side, almost invisible from his position. As he looked

over the bulky bandages that covered the rest of her body, his attention focused on her

chest as he realized that she could no longer take her own breaths. The steady hiss of

the machine that took them for her made him tremble with fear.

The break-in at his apartment occurred less than an hour after he¶d left for his first



day back at work. There had been no time to go to the apartment and see what damage

had been done, nor did he find himself at all concerned with his personal property. Not

after what the bastards had done to his sister. He deliberately forced away the sketchy

but graphic details that had been related to him by several different police officers. He

couldn¶t handle that kind of information. Instead, his thoughts swam back to the first

words he¶d heard regarding Millie¶s condition: it¶s a matter of time now, the doctor said.

He¶d offered no hope for Miles to cling to, gave no optimistic statements like ³we expect

her to pull through this´ or ³it will take some time, but she¶ll be fine.´

Millie would not be fine. Ever. She would not regain consciousness and there

would be no final goodbyes between the two of them. How she had even made it out of

surgery had baffled the doctors.

Miles leaned forward and put his hands over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut

and exhaled into his palms, his mind turned inward, trying to feel« something«

He felt nothing. His twin, who had been able to sense everything that ever

happened to her brother, from a bee sting to a broken limb, did not seem to exist inside of

him. He reached out to touch his sister again, only to find that his fingertips rested on

some ligature marks across the top of her right arm. Rope burns. From when they¶d

tied her to a chair and beat her, and then«

With clumsy feet that didn¶t want to obey his commands, Miles forced himself up

and out of the room. He couldn¶t be there any longer. Everything smelled of blood.

Halfway down the hall, a bizarre draining sensation crept up on him. He leaned

against the wall with his head down and his arms limp by his sides as he felt his breathing

become shallow. The hallway swam around him as he sank to his knees, his hands



splayed out in front of him to keep him from falling onto his face. Sharp pain shot out

from his damaged shoulder muscle, coupled with a protest from the stomach wound, but

he barely noticed them. An empty feeling that suddenly filled his entire being erased it

all.

Hands rested on his shoulder, and Miles heard a familiar voice called his name.

After a moment, he lifted his head and found himself staring at the face of Murphy

Brown.

"I'm all right," he managed to tell her in a weak tone. He forced himself to his

feet. "It's not... it¶s not me."

³Miles, maybe you should sit down. You²³

His gaze darted around him, focusing on nothing in particular. ³Millie¶s dead,´

he interrupted.

Murphy fell silent, and she lifted her head as she noticed a series of electronic

beeps from down the hall. Several nurses and a doctor rushed toward the alarm, but

Murphy could see from their movements that they did not seem to be in a rush to help

this particular patient in distress.

³Miles, I¶m so sorry«´ she began, but words failed her.

She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged her to him, a gesture that Miles

found himself unable to respond to at first. With a feeling of dumb stupor, he

recognized the fact that he¶d finally felt some kind of connection with his twin that he¶d

never experienced before.

T oo late, his mind told him.

Miles closed his eyes and swayed in Murphy¶s arms. If anyone else had tried to



comfort him at that moment, Miles would have rejected their help. Millie hadn¶t been

in town for anyone to meet her and to know what kind of a person that Miles had just

lost« but Murphy knew her. Perhaps, most important of all, Murphy understood.

Miles Silverberg felt something hitch inside him, and his wall of control broke

down. He pressed his head against her shoulder, and he began to cry.

"murphy brown: close" (fan fiction)

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