A/N: Tag to 1x20: The Vanishing. Thanks Mariah :) ~Meowser

Jim paced up and down the hallway, and scraped his hand over his face. This was, actually, hell. Worse than hell. It was his own personal nightmare, come true. Beth and Andrea were sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, miserable as well.

The doctor finally came out. "She's stable," he said. "But we're going to wait another few moments before allowing anyone in to see her."

"Of course, doc," Jim said. He wanted to ask him more, and normally he would have, but Beth's presence made him hold back. God, he just wanted to see her right now. "I'm going to go and get a coffee," he mumbled. "You ladies need anything?"

They both waved him off, not even responding, and Jim walked blindly down the corridor. He knew that "a few moments" would probably mean more like half an hour. All it meant was that she was out of surgery. The nurses would take their time getting her back to the room and all settled in.

He wanted to punch his fist through a wall. He wasn't normally a violent man; really, he was always looking for other avenues to vent his frustrations. But right now, he just felt so damn helpless, which was making him anxious, which was coming out as anger.

He leaned against the vending machine, watching at the candy bar he'd tried to buy got stuck on the hook and didn't come down.

That really almost set him off, but he forced himself to just walk away. The chapel was down that hallway. He stopped short, staring at the door, and then slowly walked forward, pushing the door open.

He'd been raised Catholic, but he wasn't exactly practicing anymore. Church on Christmas and Easter, if even that. Jim usually volunteered to work holidays, since they didn't mean too much to Melinda, and they both liked to give the family guys a day off. Plus, with Melinda's gift, he wasn't sure what he believed. She always just shrugged when he asked about the God part of the equation.

"He's there," she'd say. "Or she. I don't really know. But this is the spirit's journey, really. They are the ones who have to work through things."

Jim slid into the chapel. There was no one else in there; it was pretty late at night.

He sighed, walking forward, genuflecting out of habit, even though there was no tabernacle; this was a nondenominational chapel, of course.

He stared at the bare altar. There was a cross, a menorah, and something that he didn't recognize (but really probably should have.) He crossed himself, another habit he found hard to break, and then his mind was just blank. He remembered, vaguely, the prayers from his childhood, but he didn't feel like a Hail Mary was really applicable here. He needed to go straight to the head man. God. Whatever.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat, glancing around to make sure that he was still alone. "God. It's me. Well, you know it's me. I have no idea how to do this." He paused, leaning his head against his folded hands. "God, I am so scared," he whispered, voice raw. "I have never been this scared, not even when my ambulance tipped over." He shook his head. "I can't live without her, you know? She gives me everything, she changed my life. I'm nothing without her."

Silence. He didn't know why, but he'd almost expected a response.

He sighed, breathing hard. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he said. "Should I barter? I don't think that works most of the time, but sure. I'll be a better man. I'll stop mowing the lawn at 5 am on Saturday mornings to spite Mrs. Coolidge."

She had always been an old bat, always resented the young couple on the block.

"I'll do whatever it takes, I'll pray more, I don't know," he cried out. "I don't know, God. What do you want?"

Silence again.

Jim buried his head in his hands, unable to speak. All he could think about was Melinda. Touching her, brushing her hair back from her face, the way she smiled at him. God, the way she smiled when it was just the two of them. It was totally different from any smile she made at friends or in public. There was just this different softness when she looked at him like that, so much more vulnerability, so much more openness.

His shoulders shook. Jim knew he couldn't bear to live life without her at his side.

He finally raised his head. "God, I can't make any promises," he whispered. "But I swear, if you give her back to me...I'll do whatever it takes to stay with her forever."

Beth and Andrea were standing up, arms folded, when he got back. "Any updates?" He asked.

"She's going to be wheeled in shortly," Beth said, voice almost sharp, but he knew it was from stress.

"You should go in first," Jim managed. "I mean it. You're her mother, I can wait."

He saw that Beth was about to protest, but then she nodded. "Thank you, Jim."

"I'm going to grab a coffee myself," Andrea said. "Give you guys some time."

Jim's heart leaped in his throat when he saw the nurse wheeling Melinda's down the hallway. He just stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, his heart wanting to break, as Beth walked in with her.

Beth only stayed a few minutes. Jim watched keenly, and almost choked on his own breath when she finally exited, nodding somberly at him and collapsing again into the hospital chair.

Jim walked into the room, his heart beating double time. Melinda just lay there, still and pale.

He forced himself forward, his knees nearly giving out, and he collapsed into the chair near her bed, grabbing her hand. "Mel," he whispered, fiercely kissing one tiny hand. "Hi."

He wanted it to be like a movie. He wanted her eyes to open, and for her to be fine. He wanted it to be a false alarm. But instead she just lay there.

"God, Mel, you can't leave me so soon," he said, kissing her hand again. "I know you've got connections up there, after all the work you've done. Please stay with me." He kept her hand against his face; his tears fell on it. "You can't leave me. Not yet."

Silence. The heart monitor beeped. JIm stood up, and walked back out, gesturing for Andrea to go inside. He sank down next to Beth.

"I never thought I'd be here," Beth said softly. "Melinda has always been so indestructible."

Jim couldn't say anything for a long moment. Maybe it was that kind of idea that had caused such a rift between Melinda and Beth; if Beth had never given Melinda an ounce of consideration just because her daughter could handle it. He restrained himself from saying it. "I hate being so helpless," he said. "Usually I'm the one to get the call, to save the day. I wasn't even on freaking duty. Bobby and Tim saved her."

"Don't blame yourself," Beth said. "We both know Melinda does what she wants."

Another word choice he wasn't wild about, but Jim refused to get into a fight with Melinda's mother right now. He knew they were both stressed; she had zero malice behind her words, and he knew he was overreacting.

He just shook his head. Andrea came out, and Jim stood up, not giving Beth the opportunity to go first again, and just walked in.

He sat down at her side, just staring at his wife's face. "I love you," he said simply. "I have for a very long time now. Maybe even since we met, and you were so feisty. You weren't going to let me off the hook, you made me go back inside. You made me believe you." He picked up her hand, noting that the nurse hadn't put her rings back on. He stood up, going to the bag of personal effects, and found her rings. He walked to the bed, holding them in his hand.

He'd paid a good amount for her engagement ring, but the only thought in his mind right now was that he hadn't paid enough. Nothing was enough for her. She deserved the universe. He stared morosely at the diamond, flipping the rings in his fingers. He remembered the day he'd proposed. She'd said yes without a thought, without a pause.

He slid the rings back onto her finger, kissing her hand fiercely as soon as they were on. "Please come back to me," he said simply. "I refuse to do this thing without you. Please, Melinda. I know you can hear me. Please."

He moved forward, falling to his knees beside the bed, laying his head on her chest. He felt the rise and fall, heard the beat of her heart.

He held her hand in his, and he didn't try to stop the tears on his face. "Please," he repeated. "Just come back to me."

Beth and Andrea had cycled in to see her again, but now it was just Jim. He was getting tired, but he knew there was no chance of him sleeping. He didn't want to.

He held her hand, whispering the same pleas, and kept glancing up at her face, waiting for her eyes to open.

He lay his head on her chest, giving up, just for a second, and her hand moved in his. He jumped, jerking to attention, staring at her face. It was like the damn Disney movie. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and she smiled at him, weakly, but fully.

"Melinda," he whispered, and leaned forward to kiss her, hold her, rejoice.

She was awake. His world was right again. He pressed her to his chest, and mouthed a word at the ceiling. Thank you.