Melinda pulled him into the jeep beside her, careening out of the driveway.

"Do you actually know where she lives?" She asked, voice furious.

Rick's confused mind just tried to begin processing what had just happened. "Why are we going there? What does she have to do with this?"

"We'll find out when we get there," Melinda replied, her short reply cutting at him. "Right or left?"

"Straight," Rick countered and Melinda floored it after a perfunctory stop at a stop sign. He jerked back in his seat, wondering where this Melinda had come from...or if this was the Melinda he'd been hoping to see the whole time, the one he could always tell lurked beneath her smooth and flighty exterior.

Rick mentally catalogued each body part again. There was blood in his mouth. Why was there blood in his mouth? Did Melinda bite his tongue? No, it wasn't a french kiss. That was crap.

"I'm bleeding, I need to get to a hospital," he began, his voice unsteady because he wasn't sure if he was bleeding. There was no sore part, no outstanding tenderness.

"It's not yours," Melinda replied shortly. "Which way now?"

"Left," he murmured. "It's not my blood. Why does that not make me feel better?"

"Because you're a disbelieving cynic," she snapped. "Now?"

"Left again, and it's this house on the right," Rick said, pointing it out. Melinda slammed on the brakes so hard that he got whiplash, slamming back into his seat. "Crap. Are you getting out? Should I get out?"

"I don't care," Melinda replied, slamming her door shut behind her and running towards the house. She'd put on an overcoat over her nighty and robe but it doesn't go all the way down her legs; there's lace revealing shapely legs.

Rick can't help but pursue that vision.

"Maybe she's not home," he offered, coming up to the house to find Melinda frantically checking the windows.

"There's something wrong, something is happening inside this house," Melinda shot back. "She's inside." She tried the knob before turning to him. "Break down the door."

"No!" His answer was immediate but so was her response.

"Fine, I'll do it," she said, backing up and charging. At the last second, he stepped in front of her, cushioning the slam and her soft body rammed him into the door. "What the hell, Rick?"

"I'll do it," he said, stepping back and ramming it with his shoulders. His hazy, drunken mind reminded him that this wasn't the best way to do it; the best method was to kick the door but he too busy stumbling forward and falling to the floor to mind it. Melinda leaped over his prone body, racing into the house.

"I killed him."

The words pierced his drunken brain. Was that Dr. Grogan speaking?

"I killed Martin," Dr. Grogan sobbed and Rick stumbled to his feet.

Melinda was standing by a frantic Grogan, holding onto her. "You have to stay calm, you have to—Rick, call 911!"

"What?" He asked, staring around him for a phone.

"Call freaking 911!" She almost screamed at him and he dived for the phone.

When the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics took Grogan away, Melinda collapsed to the ground on shaky legs. Her head had pounded all throughout the encounter and now she felt dizzy as well as panicked.

"Whoa, are you okay? Now that Grogan is safe, maybe we need to check out you," Jim said, bursting out of the crowd of paramedics.

"I'm okay," Melinda replied, looking up at his handsome and worried face. "I'm just...freaked out."

"No wonder, considering the scene you walked into," Jim replied, reaching a hand down to help her up. She took it but her grip was shaking too much. She tried to focus but the pounding in her head forestalled any efforts there. In the end, Jim moved his hands to hook under her armpits and pulled her up to standing, cradling her close to him for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay? You're still shaking."

"I know," she said. "That's not...this isn't the full reason why. Dr. Grogan, I mean."

"How did you know to be here?" Jim asked, his hands slipping to rest by his sides.

"I didn't, I mean, someone just told me that Dr. Grogan was in trouble," Melinda said, wiping a tearless eye. "I was at home and I just raced over here."

"Do you know Dr. Grogan well? How did you know where she lived?" Jim asked. "Who told you?"

"It was an anonymous thing," Melinda whispered. "Um. I don't know why they told me."

"How did you know where she lived? Did you know her well?" Jim repeated, his voice gentle but there was a forceful undertone now.

"I've been trying to contact her, get her to answer a few questions that I had for her," Melinda replied. "And..."

"I told her where she lived."

Rick Payne's voice suddenly inserted itself into the conversation. She wondered where he'd been up until now.

"Professor!"

There was clear delight in Jim's voice. "How are you? You never did call me back about lunch and you stood me up twice."

"I have a busy schedule," Rick replied. He moved to stand by Jim and Melinda. "I was at Melinda's house returning some...thing that she'd given me. I was there when she got the call and I told her where to go. Dr. Grogan and I both work at Rockland U, and besides that, we're old friends."

"It was a telephone call?" Jim questioned, shoving his hands into his pockets when it became obvious that the professor would not shake one of them.

"Yeah," Rick said, dragging the words out.

"So you two do know each other," Jim said. "Undoubtedly."

"Yes," Rick replied. "Are these all of your questions? Do we need to get a lawyer over here?"

"No, of course not, you've got me all wrong," Jim apologized, backing up. "Besides, I'm just a paramedic." He glanced at Melinda and she was suddenly acutely aware of what she was, or wasn't, wearing. The coat had become untied while trying to comfort Grogan and now it gaped open to reveal the lace, silk and skin beneath it. She could feel Jim's eyes fall there, caught for a moment, and she slowly pulled the coat around her, somehow not really wanting to.

Jim's eyes returned to her face. Melinda could sense how stiff Rick, beside her, had become and she almost wanted to step on his foot. He'd done a hell of a lot worse.

And better.

She remembered the kiss and closed her eyes. Her headache subsided at the loss of light.

When she opened them, Jim was staring at her, but quickly steered his gaze away from her, removing his hands from his pockets.

She remembered that she, too, had been guilty of not calling Jim back. Ugh, she never wanted to be grouped together with Rick Payne again.

"I guess I'll be going," Jim said. "If you two both deny wanting medical assistance, you should be going too."

"Oh, yeah," Melinda murmured, following Jim out of the house. She found that Rick was following her and whirled around. "What?" She asked, keeping her voice soft so that Jim couldn't hear.

"I could really use a ride home," he said softly.

"Your car is at my house," she replied, feeling Jim's eyes on them. She really didn't want to get in the same car as Rick with Jim watching and she refused to let herself think about why.

"Well, I can't take it anywhere, no keys," he replied.

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Get in," she said and he headed towards the jeep.

She turned to find Jim still watching her, his eyes dark with thought and maybe a touch of something else.

"Thank you," she called, waving to him and hurrying across the lawn so that he didn't think she was trying to initiate a conversation.

"Anytime," he called back.

She felt the fabric hit against her legs and reluctantly got into the driver's seat, closing the door behind her softly instead of slamming it like she wanted to do.

Rick stayed silent for most of the ride home, clutching his forehead and looking out of the window with a look on his face that she couldn't read.

"That was an interesting evening," he finally commented, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She couldn't find a response to give him, and instead kept her eyes steadily on the road in front of her.

"If I ask, will you tell me?" There was a surprising vulnerability in his voice, a plea.

"How I knew?" She asked, voice quiet.

"And other things that I can't blame on my being totally and completely sloshed, yes," Rick said.

He searched her face as she drove.

"I just wish I could know beforehand what your reaction would be," Melinda replied, her voice almost catching.

"It will be..." He started to say something sarcastic but caught the look on her face and the tone of her voice. Oh god. This was ground he didn't like to walk with anyone. "I know it will be a very high level of incredulity but I'll try to keep it within reason."

Melinda was silent again for a long moment. He could see her throat working. "If I'm going to tell you, to say it, I need you to promise me something because this is not a thing that I want widespread."

"Promise you what?" He breathed.

"Not to tell, not to mention me in your classes as a class A delusional freak," Melinda replied, voice bitter.

"I won't," he said immediately. "Never, I promise. I'll cross my heart. Anything."

"Just promise, just that, it's simple," Melinda replied.

"Then I promise you, Melinda Gordon," he said and her fingers tightened on the steering wheel in front of her. "Whatever you tell me...doesn't leave this car unless you tell me it can. Until you give me permission."

Her eyes slipped over to him. "I thought you were never going to see me again," she said, her voice emotionless.

He just shrugged.

"I can see...and speak to..." She pulled up in front of his house. He wondered how she'd known where to go without asking. He saw her eyes glance to the door, as if contemplating kicking him out here and now and never finishing the conversation.

No. He was so close it was orgasmic. "Is this fill in the blank?" He wondered, letting his gaze wander the car.

"The dead," she finished.

It was like a weight lifted off of her. She leaned her head back on her seat, as if giving in, giving over all control.

"You don't mean the Grateful Dead, do you?" He wondered. "Because—" He cut off, just from looking at her again.

"That's how I knew that Dr. Grogan was in trouble," Melinda said, after another long silence. "Martin Schaer appeared to me. He asked me to help her. He told me she was in trouble. He used you to tell me to get to her immediately." She sagged against her seat. "It's his spirit you felt. It was his blood in your mouth. He...he had blood in his mouth when he died, that's why you did then." She looked up at him. "Happy?"

"Oh, I don't know if that's the word right now," Rick replied. He wanted...his mind was screaming for a smart retort but Melinda was so tender right now...he could lose all of this forever.

I thought you were never going to see me again.

"Does this happen...a lot?" He amended.

She sighed. "That's not something I want to get into at this time," she replied.

"Or ever?" He questioned.

"You can believe me or not," Melinda shot back, suddenly revived. "Isn't that what you said at my house, or a version of it? I don't care if you believe me. You can find whatever you want to try to explain this to yourself and that's fine with me."

He heard the hurt in her voice, the terror. "If you could hear the argument going on in my mind right now..." He began.

"Is this why you came to my house?" Melinda asked, and the question hung in the air.

"Yes," he settled on and he could tell that Melinda didn't like the answer.

"Did you have to be drunk?"

"Yes," he whispered and she flinched back. "I didn't decide to go until after I'd started drinking."

She clenched her jaw, and her throat worked again as if holding her back. "I want to go home now," she said, her voice defeated.

He wanted to say something else. He stared at her so long but in the end, he slipped from the car and let her drive away.

He checked his watch. It was just after ten.

Melinda remembered too late about Julie and the dinner out with the Garret's. She panicked on the way home, and when she got to the house, Julie sat on the outside doorstep.

"Oh, god, Julie, I'm so sorry," she called, jumping from the car. "Were you locked out?"

"No, I came outside to wait for you," Julie said and Melinda slowed.

"What? But weren't you worried when I wasn't here?" She asked.

Julie shrugged. "I...I felt like I didn't need to be. Something near me...called me down. The Garrets had already gone home and I just had this sense that you were fine, that you'd be back soon. So I came back outside to wait for you. It's a nice night."

Melinda crumpled beside her chosen daughter, pulling her close. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Where were you?" Julie asked. "If you want to tell me."

Melinda closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Julie's strawberry shampoo. The childish reminder calmed her.

"Saying goodbye to someone," she said.

And she feared, in her heart, that it might end up being true.