A/N: This update has taken a while, but it's just because season four is so tough let's be honest haha. Enjoy xx Mariah
Melinda had drunk way too much wine that night and barely made it upstairs without breaking a limb. It took all of her strength to get up the stairs and changed into something for bed before she realized she had forgotten to lock up.
It was on the way back down when she that Sam had pulled into the driveway again and reminded her of his revelation to her that afternoon that he just didn't know what he would do if someone from his past that loved him showed up.
It terrified her. Because what if this so-called fiancee did show up, would Sam just go running to her with his arms open wide? Could she even stop him?
That was when she had switched to hard liquor.
Melinda had never been a drinker. She enjoyed a beer or glass of wine with dinner but hadn't gotten wasted since she was in college. The number of times she'd been drunk in her adult life she could count on one hand, but this was different.
She had found the bottle of tequila sitting in the freezer, exactly where Jim had left it the last time he'd made her a margarita when she was in the bath.
She'd downed a shot after that, and then another when she remembered what he'd done with one of the ice cubes in the glass.
Things would just never be the same.
When she made herself a margarita on the rocks she couldn't help but think that all she wanted in the entire world was to hear another one of Jim's lectures about her willingness to throw any safety for herself out the window for her ghosts. And for him to make her a margarita while he did it because hers had never been as good.
Instead, Sam had just disregarded her. He hadn't known to the full extent of what happened, but it had still pinched somewhere deep inside her. She wished he paid attention as much as Jim did. To have the capacity to tell that something had upset her and ask her about it.
It seemed so trivial to think it once annoyed her that Jim paid attention to every little thing she did because he cared that much. He was even the type to know when her cycle would come and bring home ice cream and Midol.
That was all she craved, and she had taken it all for granted.
Her mind was spinning and she was wallowing in her grief by the time the bottle was empty, but there wasn't any strength left to fight it back.
Melinda lost most of her strength from the amount of effort it took just to get out of bed in the morning, but as each day dragged on, she lost the energy that built up inside her.
Part of her wanted to give up and end the pain that was just having to see Sam every day. Let alone have to watch him push her away and close himself off from her. She was so used to Jim being such an open book with her that it just seemed so odd.
She wanted her husband back. She didn't want this… stranger.
Her eyes drip with tears. Her walls, the walls that hold her up, that kept her strong just... collapse. Moment by moment, they fell. Salty drops fell from her chin and rolled down her chest. Perhaps these tears will help wash the pain away.
She flung her hands up and wiped away her tears, but she couldn't stop. Even as she tried to stand, to take a deep breath and calm herself, her body trembles. It's raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. She can't stop... couldn't stop. Why couldn't she stop crying?
"Melinda?"
It had been Sam to pull her out of it and that was when she could see blood trickling between her fingers and the broken glass on the floor.
"Are you okay?"
It brought her right back to a memory, one that was so vivid like it happened yesterday. Andrea and her brother were over and the window had fallen out and the glass had broken on the window seat.
While Andrea had taken Mitch on a tour around the house after the mention of maybe putting it on the market, Jim had set out to the task of repairing it quickly for the time being while she picked up the glass.
Only it hadn't been that simple. More than a few shards of glass were stuck in the cushion and she'd cut herself on them.
It had taken all of a muttered curse under her breath for her husband to notice and put what he was doing aside.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, seeing the blood drip down the curve of her hand.
"I just cut myself," she sighed. "Don't worry."
He held out his hand and winked. "Let me see before I make that decision," he said and coaxed her palm into his, holding it carefully. "You nicked yourself pretty good here. Stay put, okay, I'm gonna get some bandages and clean this up."
She shook her head. "It's fine, Jim." She said, smiling, wishing that just this once he would drop it and stop worrying about her so much, but that was hoping for too much. "Andrea and Mitch are over and I can just go wash it off in the sink and wrap it up later."
"That could get infected like that, Mel," he reasoned, leaning up, hand on her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. When they broke apart, he winked. "Don't worry I'll be quick, and they won't be here forever."
She blushed and stole one more kiss, tugging on his shirt to pull him back in, and felt the smile on his face. His hands had slipped under her skirt before they parted again, matching smiles on their lips.
They had been so happy then. Just newlyweds. Nothing to be afraid of.
By the time Sam had swept up the grass, she had stopped crying and had wrapped her hand in a paper towel, but they hadn't spoken. She had instead opted to stare into the bottom of the glass of water he'd handed her.
He'd come into the living room not long after with the first aid kit. She had wanted to refuse but he'd given her a look, one that reminded her so much of Jim she had to look away and let him clean up her hand.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" She finally asked once he'd finished wiping her hand clean with an antibacterial wipe.
He shrugged and began to bandage up her hand. "I don't really know what I'm doing most of the time, so no. It's just muscle memory, I think."
She had seen Jim and not Sam, a sliver of the love of her life returned, and her heart skipped. "What do you mean?" Her walls were starting to crack. They wanted to come down again so badly.
"I took a few medical classes according to my transcripts, but that's all I really know." He told her in simple enough terms. "I don't know anything for certain anymore."
She nodded and left it at that. She didn't want to get her hopes up any more than she already had. When Sam finished wrapping Melinda's hand there was a moment where he just held it softly in his palm. He cradled it while his other hand came to rest on top and there was another flutter of her heart.
When she looked up she found blue eyes staring back at her for an instant until she blinked, and it wasn't him anymore.
Jim was dead and buried, but his soul, his spirit was in this stubborn man's body. She knew it and saw it with her very eyes, and yet she wanted to give up. She wanted to stop the pain.
This wasn't what she wanted. She had wanted him to crossover. To be at peace until she met him in the afterlife because as much as that would've pained her to watch, it wouldn't have hurt as much as seeing him trapped and lost in someone else.
Anything could have been better than that.
She slipped her hand away from his after another moment and examined the bandages. It was just another coincidence, but the way Sam wrapped the gauze and ace bandage around her palm was the way Jim would have.
The ace bandage was wrapped snugly around her hand and was tucked exactly the way he used to do it, with a safety pin and everything.
"If you don't mind me asking, why all the liquor?" Sam asked as he put the first-aid kit back together.
She finally looked at him again, a hard look set in on her face.
"Look, I'm not judging you," He said, closing the lid on the kit. "I am the last person who should be judging anyone. I'm just worried about you."
She had to think of something. Something close enough to the truth without letting him in on her real secret. "That story in the paper," she started off, her voice quiet. "About the woman being reunited with her husband. It reminded me of something I'll never get to do."
She slowly stood up and thought that would be the end of it, but he followed after her. "Melinda, wait," he reached out for her shoulder, his hand brushing against her shoulder as he hoped to turn her back around.
It stayed there when she did.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered.
She felt her eyes blink with silent tears as she shook her head, despite her heart breaking into two. "You didn't." She stepped onto the stairs and glanced back over at him. "Goodnight, Sam. Lock the back door on your way out."
Melinda could tell Sam knew that wasn't true, but he didn't press her on it because it wasn't his job.
