Friendly Faces

Title: Friendly Faces

Author: Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

Genre: Angst/Friendship

Summary: Melinda Gordon is no stranger to ghosts, but to meet one with a connection to Allison Dubois? Well, that was another story entirely.

Rating: K (G)

Disclaimer: Medium and Ghost Whisperer and all things related are property of their rightful owners. I own nothing except this crossover scenario.

Written: 2/5/2011

Completed: 2/5/2011

Author's Note: Not unlike the MEDIUM/Mentalist crossover, this is a bit of an experimental attempt to blend the two realities of MEDIUM and Ghost Whisperer together. This came to me right after seeing the Season 7 Series Finale of Medium (so you probably shouldn't read this unless you've seen said season and last episode). If the two were ever going to come together in any kind of situation, given the circumstances, this felt like the best way to do it. Enjoy yourself.

"Hello," She said in a voice that garnered nothing except kindness and understanding. "Are you lost?"

Lost was a term used often for people in his situation. If you weren't, in the strictest sense of the word, here or elsewhere, you were thought of as a wanderer, a confused spirit. However, that wasn't the case for him; he wasn't lost or confused, he was where he wanted to be. He was where he needed to be, but he understood the young woman's desire to help him cross over. Joe regarded the petite woman with a friendly enough smile before shaking his head. He focused his attention back on the woman browsing through her antique shop with no real purpose other than to stare at something that did not remind her of him. "No, I'm not lost. I'm just watching," He replied.

"Is she someone important to you?"

"Yes. She's my wife."

"Oh. Is there anything I can tell her or-?"

Joe shook her head. "No, no. Everything that needed to be said was said a while ago. If she knew I was here-" He shook his head. "How is it that you can see me?" The young woman shrugged her shoulders. An equally somber smile graced her lips as she titled her head to the side. "It's something of a gift, I suppose. I can see spirits - people who are no longer here with us in the physical sense," She replied.

"Is that right?" An amused expression graced his wizened features; this wasn't the first time he'd heard of this ability, she noted. "My name's Melinda. Melinda Gordon."

"Joe, Joe Dubois," The phantom replied. "I'd shake your hand, but-" He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. It takes a moment, but the recognition of his last name hits her like a newly remembered dream. She remembers the news reports that the "husband of famous psychic, Allison Dubois" had been among the unfortunate victims in the plane crash over the pacific. She remembered wishing there'd been something she could have done to prevent it, even if she didn't know them personally. At the same time, unbidden memories of a similar tragedy occurring in Grandview played back in her mind. She bowed her head in sorrow. "I'm so sorry," She whispered, hoping she wasn't attracting attention. "No one deserves to die so suddenly like that."

Joe shrugged her apology off, though it's obvious the mere reminder of his end bothers him on some level. "It doesn't matter now. All that matters is her," Joe muses, nodding toward Allison. "If she makes pasts this, then I won't have died for nothing. Not absolutely, anyway." The words are more of a comfort for him than they were for the stranger next to him, yet, Melinda understands the message he is trying to convey to her loud and clear. Joe turned his attention away from his wife for a moment to study the cover object sitting on the floor just out of sight. He pointed and Melinda followed his finger toward the sheet-covered cabinet. "She'll want to have that. She's shopping for our eldest daughter's baby shower," He said.

Melinda started to question how he could possibly know what was under the sheet, when sound of a woman clearing her throat cut her off in mid-speech. Looking up from the floor, she discovered that Joe was no longer standing next to her behind the counter. Instead, Allison stood on the other side, waiting to be serviced. Allison peered over the counter to where Melinda's gaze had once been. "Is there something wrong?" She asked, only mildly concerned.

Melinda put her best patronage smile as she waved the older woman off. "Oh, no. I'm sorry, I kinda spaced out there," Melinda explained hastily. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Allison readjusted her square-framed glasses nervously as she shook her head. "No, not really," Allison replied. "Your store is lovely, however."

"Thank you-"

"I've never seen so many memories amassed-"

"-so much,"

"-in one place," Both women stopped when they realized what had just occurred, but only Melinda attempted to laugh it off. Allison simply offered a stiff smile and readjusted her glasses again. The two of them stood in awkward silence, Allison fiddled with the contents of her purse, Melinda thought of things to say without bringing her personal tragedy into the picture.

She had hoped her meeting with the famous Allison Dubois wouldn't be so awkward, but given the circumstances, Melinda couldn't hold it against her. If Jim had crossed over like he was supposed to, she imagined she wouldn't be the friendliest person either. She pulled herself from her train of thought as Allison began to mutter a hasty farewell. Panicked, Melinda reached out and touched on her the wrist. "Wait, I think I might have something you're looking for," She spoke in haste.

Allison blinked. "How's that?" Smiling a secret smile, Melinda raised one finger and hurried out from behind the counter toward the box on the floor. Allison pulled the strap of her purse up on her shoulder, she watched as the young woman uncovered the box and picked it up. Melinda walked carefully over to the counter and set the box in front of her.

Allison felt the breath leave her body immediately; her hand was upon the curves of the flowers carved into the face of the small cabinet doors, tracing the dust away. Melinda was taken aback by her reaction; clearly this was a little more than something she would "like". "Oh my God, where did you get this?" Allison breathed.

"I- a friend of mine bought from a flea market in Grosse Pointe," Melinda replied. "Does this belong to you?"

"No- not really," A mournful smile graced Allison features as she traced the flower design again. "It belonged to my husband's mother. A long time ago."

More awkward silence. Melinda suddenly wished Joe hadn't been so vague with her. She might have more to say to his wife, something vaguely meaningful. Damn ghosts. "Would you like to buy it?" Allison's expression brightened a little at the question, she nodded before even considering the price. Melinda reached over and tuned the cabinet around for the price tag. She finally found the thin rope stuck between the doors of the box.

Curious, she opened one of the doors and gasped. Hidden inside was a blue china set wrapped in packaging paper, cushioned by Styrofoam. Allison's fingers curled around price tag nestled between the papers, watching everything except the shadow in the corner of her eye. Melinda ignored Joe's presence as she regarded the price tag; Delia had gotten overzealous with the pricing again.

"I don't think I can afford this right now," Allison's tone was a mix of regret and apology. Melinda would've conceded with her decision, but a quick glance over Allison's shoulder, however, showed that Joe shaking his head in objection. Okay, then. Biting the edge of her lip, Melinda took the price tag from Allison's grasp and plucked from the string. "Uh, tell you what," She said. "I'll give it to you - free of charge."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly-" Allison started to object. In the background, Melinda heard a chuckle escape Joe and frowned. What part of this was amusing?

"No, I insist, Mrs. Dubois, it's perfectly fine," Melinda closed the open door on the cabinet and pushed it toward the D.A., unaware that she had referred to the woman by her last name. "Please, take it." If Allison suspected something, she made no indication of it; with a tight smile, Allison took the box from off the counter. The two women regarded each other for a moment, sizing the other up; Melinda shifted her weight from one foot to the next while Allison remained unmoving the reflection of a true lawyer in interrogation mode. Finally, a forced laugh escaped her. "It's strange," She said.

"What is?" Melinda replied in a tone that was anything except a picture of calm.

"I never gave you my name, yet you knew it," Allison stated, eyes wandering the space of the antique shop. Melinda reached behind her and scratched the back of her neck nervously. "Well, I remember seeing you on the news once or twice," She stammered out. "I'm very sorry… for your loss."

Allison's expression hardened as her glasses caught the reflection of the overhead lights. There was a moment where it seemed liked she wanted to speak, but thought better of it. Nodding her head, she turned and headed for the front door. Melinda watched her go, her spirits low. Joe appeared beside her, his expression seemed neither troubled nor amused. "That went well," He sighed.

"Oh, go away," Melinda complained, pushing away from the counter.

FIN