Point of No Return
By Dragon's Daughter 1980
Disclaimer: Other than being a weekly viewer, I have nothing to do with Ghost Whisperer.
Author's Notes: Well… last Friday's episode was certainly interesting…
"Absolutely not," he muttered as he paced back and forth. Little eddies of fog were whipped into an agitated froth by his restless movements. He shook his head firmly as he carried on the conversation, "I am absolutely not going to go. I don't—No, I don't care what You say, I'm not going to go! Yes, I know! But what about his wife?" he demanded angrily, looking up at the pale golden sky above him. "It's not fair for either of them!"
"Whoever said that Life was fair?" asked a woman's voice. He whirled around to see an elderly woman standing behind him, dressed in a turquoise pinafore with a peach-colored blouse underneath. Her wise brown eyes calmly regarded him.
"Hasn't she gone through enough?" he responded sharply, unsuccessfully reining in his agitation. It was clear from her bearing that the woman was an emissary from Elsewhere, a messenger who commanded proper respect from him. The woman folded her hands, serene in the face of his fury.
"What is Life but trials and tribulations that test the spirit?" she said quietly. "She is strong, and this will make her stronger."
"How?" he asked. "How will making her a widow make her stronger? He's her life. She turned back from the Light because of him, and—they need each other. If he dies, she'll be a shell of herself."
"No," the woman shook her head, the soft sunlight reflecting off of her silvery hair. "She will have others to live for."
"He's her rock," he pointed out. "Who is she supposed to turn to?"
"There will be many there to support her."
"Like who?" he asked in exasperation. "Her business partner and friend who doesn't willingly believe in ghosts? Her academic protégé who has the worst bedside manner that I've ever seen? Her occult researcher who's currently off in the Himalayans and stuck in the middle of a snowstorm?"
A faint hint of amusement crossed the woman's lips before she pointed out, "You haven't seen many people's bedside manners."
"My brother—"
"Your brother has a wonderful bedside manner, that is true," she finished thoughtfully, "and he would make a wonderful father."
"But he's not a father, and he's not going to be a father if he's dead." He winced at the slightly hysterical edge in his tone. He sternly told himself to get a hold of his emotions before he lost the argument. Time was running short. He had to convince her to appeal to her superior on his brother's behalf.
"He can," responded the elderly woman. "I imagine that she will have her hands full with the three of them."
"Triplets?" he croaked with shock before indignation took control. "You're making her a widow and leaving her to raise triplets alone?"
The woman arched an eyebrow and responded calmly, "She is a strong woman and she will not be alone. After all, Dalia will be there to support her, along with Ned and Eli. That does not even speak of your brother's colleagues and friends who will look after her and the children."
"But that's…" he spluttered.
"Melinda will live a happy life," the woman soothed, "that much I can assure you of. It will not be without its hardships and its tears, but it will be a good life."
There was a firm finality in her words that told him it was useless to try to argue anymore. There was only so much leeway, and he sensed that it had been already pressed to the limits.
He closed his eyes with a resigned sigh, "So what will be, will be?"
She nodded, "Yes."
The woman reached out into the light mist that had descended around them and plucked a silvery mantle out of thin air. With an experienced flick of her wrist, she settled the thin cloak around her shoulders.
"You should go see her," she said quietly, "and your brother."
"Will he cross?"
"He will need someone there to greet him," she said, an indirect answer to his question, "and who better than his own brother? He was with you in your last moments; you will be with him in his."
He swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly in acknowledgement of the implicit order. With a gracious smile, she raised the hood of the mantle. Leaving him standing there, she turned to go and then paused.
"Oh, and whoever said that she's having triplets?" she tossed over her shoulder with a satisfied smile before she walked into the mist.
"Wait, what?" he lunged forward, intending to catch her shoulder and ask for more answers than questions, but she had disappeared into the mist. "What do you mean? She's not having triplets?"
When he tried to follow her fading footsteps, the light mist thickened and darkened into a solidly gray fog, effectively concealing her from sight. He stepped blindly forward, his hand outstretched to catch her shoulder. The sound of her footfalls eventually vanished and he wandered forward in silence, hoping that he would, by mere chance, be able to catch her.
His hand collided with warm, solid, and living flesh before he was blinded by the sudden brightness of a well-lit corridor. A woman gasped quietly from somewhere in front of him. He squinted enough to see a young woman whirling around to face him, her brown curls tumbling around her pale, tearstained face. Her eyes widened in recognition and she whispered his name through trembling lips. She swallowed convulsively before she asked in a shaking voice, "What are you doing here?"
Standing in a quiet corner of the hospital complex, he stared back at his sister-in-law in surprise before he confessed, "I…I don't know. I…" he searched for an answer, "I was sent?"
She looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and horror in her eyes before she bit her bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold in her tears, "I need your help."
"What?" he asked instantly. He stepped closer to her, wishing that he could comfort her and hold her as she cried. He had always liked her and how she made his brother so happy. The two of them were so perfect together, and now their story was ending like this. A part of him still raged at the unfairness of it all, but he knew that all happened for a reason. No one had a reprieve from Death, not even his brother who deserved so much better than a life cut short.
"I need you to convince him to cross over." Her voice cracked, "He won't…. He won't listen to me." She choked back a sob.
He stared at her in bewilderment, "What do you mean? You've talked with him?"
She let out a bitter, throaty laugh that concealed an exasperated sob, "I talk to ghosts, Dan. Of course, I've talked with him."
His heart sank in sorrow, "I'm sorry, I… I didn't think."
She waved his apology away and glanced over her shoulder at the open hospital door a few feet away, "It's all right. It's been a difficult week. I…I haven't been myself." She looked back him, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I…I promised him I'd sign the papers."
He let out a shaky sigh, "Then he hasn't crossed yet?"
"No, he hasn't," she shook her head as she sobbed. "I don't think I can. I can't. I can't do it. I know he wants me to, but I can't. I have to get him across, but I don't want him to go, but I need him to go. I can't….I can't do this."
"Sit down," he gestured toward an empty row of hospital chairs, wishing that he could take her elbow and guide her there. Instead, he hovered close to her, shepherding her into moving without touching her. Clearly in a daze, she moved over to the wall and almost collapsed into the chair.
"Where are your friends?" he asked, looking around for any familiar faces roaming the corridor. There were none, except nurses, patients, the occasional doctor…and his earth-bound peers who looked eager to talk to his sister-in-law. He gave them his best warning glare, sending out a silent message for all of them to back off. She didn't notice as she ineffectively tried to wipe away her tears with the back of her hands.
"I told them to… I'm sorry, I asked Eli to pick up Faith from the airport and drive her up here. His—your mother ought to be here and I…" she sniffed, and he frantically searched for a tissue box, simultaneously wondering if it would be inconspicuous if he levitated the thing over to her and cursing the fact that he was just a spirit. She blindly dug in her purse and he mentally tugged out a small traveling pack of tissues from underneath her wallet. She smiled at him in teary thanks before she pulled one out and began to wipe her face.
"And Delia's in there…" she choked for a bit before taking an unsteady breath, "keeping watch for me."
"No change?" he asked sympathetically. She shook her head, her voice a broken whimper, "No. He's…I've seen his spirit, and we've talked, and he knows… and he won't go. He won't leave me. And I…I don't want him to leave either. What kind of…what kind of person does that make me?"
"Someone who loves her husband very much," he said quietly, trying to reassure her. He glanced at the open doorway a few feet away, where machines were all that kept his brother's body alive. He swallowed hard, wishing that this wasn't happening to his family.
"Please," she looked up at him, her dark eyes full of grief and confusion, "I need you to help me make sure he's safe. I need you to help me get him to cross over, before anyone can harm him."
They both knew who she was referring to, the enemies she had on the Dark side that could, and most likely would, come after Jim in a heartbeat if he stayed earth-bound.
"I promise," he whispered, gingerly wrapping his insubstantial arms around her as she cried, alone in a hospital corridor, facing a lifetime of grief ahead of her, "no matter what, I'll keep him safe, and I'll look out for you. I promise."