A/N: This chapter, like most of this story, was already roughly fleshed out when I posted the first chapter, but for some reason, polishing it has been like trying to bring out a diamond in the rough with a q-tip. Sorry it's taken so long to try making it shine... I had originally posted this in the crossover category, but I was asked to change it, so I did.

Later that evening, after a dinner which consisted mainly of half a ham sandwich and two beers, Goren walked back to the hotel. Instead of going to his room, though, he went into the bar.

As he slid onto a stool at the long mahogany bar, the bartender approached him, setting a coaster in front of him. "What can I do ya for?" he asked brightly.

"Glenlivet, neat," Goren requested. "Make it a double."

He slammed his first two drinks, then slowed down, switching from neat to on the rocks. His mind wandered. He thought about Nicole Wallace and Frank, both dead, about Gwen Chapel and Gage, both ill, and, finally, about Eames and the maelstrom of emotion she caused in his soul. Every thought that meandered through his mind only brought him confusion or grief.

Nicole Wallace appeared in the bar, seated on the stool beside him. "Drowning your sorrows, Bobby, or creating more of them?"

She watched him as he continued to drink, wishing there was some way she could make her presence known to him, to increase her ability to torture him. She felt so limited and that was frustrating her. She reached out to touch his arm, angry when it passed right through him. He shifted restlessly. Coincidence? she wondered. She concentrated on touching him but her hand once again passed through his arm. She tried again and again. His agitation increased along with her frustration but she wasn't about to give up. She continued trying to breach the barrier into the physical world. Then, finally, much like staring into one of those Magic Eye pictures until the 3D image popped out, she succeeded. Her ethereal hand made contact, and he felt it. She was now able to physically interact with the world she'd left behind when Declan Gage took her life. She could physically interact with Goren.

He sat up straight and jerked his arm toward his body, looking around, uncertain. Equally surprised but conversely delighted by the sensation of the contact, Wallace laughed. Thrilled with her accomplishment, she touched him again, reveling in his response. "Losing your mind, Bobby?" she taunted, now wishing he could hear her. "Just wait."

Behind her, near the end of the bar, a mist began to form, churning in the mostly still air. It grew denser, roiling with greater intensity as Wallace continued to tease Goren with her new-found ability. Muted colors swirled within the cloud, transforming from blues and greens to more intense reds and oranges. Neither retreating nor advancing, it hovered.

Every time Wallace touched Goren, his agitation increased and the whirling reds of the mist grew darker and more intense. Wallace moved closer, trailing her fingers along Goren's upper arm to his shoulder, delighted again when he jerked away from the sensation, running his hand over his hair in agitation. She laughed happily and vanished. Gradually, the movement within the mist calmed as its color faded to a more sedate blue hue. It remained near Goren as he signaled the bartender for a refill.

Melinda was sitting on the couch with her laptop when Jim got home from work. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Have you had dinner?"

"No, not yet."

"Mel, it's almost eleven o'clock."

"Is it that late already? I guess I lost track of the time."

He sat beside her and looked at the computer screen. "A new project?"

"Yes," she replied as she returned her attention to the computer. Then she looked at her husband. "His name is Robert Goren. He's a police officer from the city, a detective." She pointed to the computer. "When I ran a search, I came up with two recent obituaries." She brought up the list of search results and pointed to one. "Frances Goren lost her battle with cancer last August. She was a long time resident of the Carmel Ridge Psychiatric Facility. She suffered from schizophrenia and was survived by two sons, Frank and Robert. And then I found an obituary dated just last month for Frank Goren. He died in a fall from his apartment window. A follow-up article stated his death was ruled a homicide."

"So one of them is haunting him?"

"Well, no. A woman is haunting him, but she's too young to be his mother. She obviously knows him, but she's malicious."

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"Maybe. He bought some things in the store for someone, a woman friend, and that seemed to irritate her. She seems to think he wants something more from his friend but she won't have him, and that it's his fault."

"What did he buy?"

"An Impressionist painting of a seascape, a Hummel figurine and a snow globe."

"I wouldn't exactly call those courting gifts."

Melinda smiled. "I don't think that's what they are. He said they were were an apology, so whatever his relationship is with this other woman, he thinks he screwed up with her."

From the shadows, Melinda heard a familiar voice. "He should be used to that by now."

Melinda looked in the direction of the voice and the blond ghost came into view. Jim recognized his wife's reaction. "Is she here?" he asked.

"Yes," Melinda answered.

"So he can't see me, either?"

"No, he can't. I'm the only one with that particular gift."

"Aren't you lucky?"

"Who are you?"

"Bobby's fondest dream and his worst nightmare."

"Enough with the riddles. What's your name?"

She smiled a cold smile. The only way Goren would know she was still part of his life was for this woman to tell him she was there. "Nicole," she answered.

"Nicole, you need to cross over into the light and leave Robert alone."

She laughed. "Light? What are you talking about? And why would I want to go anywhere? I am having way too much fun. At first, I wasn't sure what was happening to me. I didn't remember anything. But then, as it began to come back to me and I realized I was dead, I went looking for Bobby. Now that I've found him, I don't plan to give him up. Not to you, not to her...not to anyone. He's mine." She reached out and knocked a glass off the coffee table. "Tonight I figured out how to interact with him. Now I can 'reach out and touch' him."

The implications in her tone deeply troubled Melinda. "Why him? Were you his girlfriend?"

The ghost laughed again. "No, of course not. We had a much more intimate relationship than that. He pursued me for years but, much to his chagrin, he never caught me. It was a wonderful game of cat and mouse."

"I can help you to finish your business and cross over."

"My business?" she said with interest. Then she gave Melinda an icy smile. "He is my only business now."

She vanished with a windy flourish. The look the ghost gave her before vanishing sent a shiver down Melinda's spine.

"Is she gone?" Jim asked, grabbing at the papers on the coffee table before they scattered.

Very unsettled, Melinda answered, "Yes, she's gone."

"Was she a jilted lover?"

"She says no, their relationship more intimate than that. Her name was Nicole. She said he pursued her, but never caught her. A game of cat and mouse, she called it." She looked at her computer screen. "I wish I could find out more about this ghost and the woman she seems to dislike so much. I'm not going to get a lot from her, and I don't think I'm going to get much more from him."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's so withdrawn, not very prone to personal conversation. He's in a great deal of pain."

Jim went over the things that Melinda had just said in his mind. "You said he's a cop?"

"Yes, in the city."

"So maybe she was a criminal he was after?"

The possibility made Melinda even more nervous. She rose from the couch and stepped into her shoes. "I have to talk to him. I have a bad feeling about this ghost."

"Melinda..."

"Not for me. For him. I'm worried about him. She's figured out how to physically interact with the world of the living. I have to warn him."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

She shook her head. "I'll be fine." She kissed him. "I'll be back soon."

Melinda entered the lobby of the hotel and approached the desk. "May I help you?" the clerk asked.

"I'm looking for one of your guests. His name is Robert Goren."

The clerk tapped on his keyboard and said, "Room 314."

"Thank you."

She went to the third floor and knocked on the door to his room, but she got no answer. Returning to the lobby, she intended to leave the man a message until she spotted him at the hotel's bar. Nicole was seated on the stool beside him. Shaking her head, Melinda went into the bar.

As she approached Goren, she noticed a mist hovering in the corner, roiling red and orange. No one else in the bar, including Goren, seemed to notice it was there. She sat on the empty stool beside him, sparing a single glare for the ghost who sat at his other side.

He turned his head to see who had joined him, and he was surprised to see her. His earlier agitation had dissipated as he'd continued to drink, and he was now at a point where very little could bother him, where much of his pain slipped away from him. It was right about where he wanted to be. He looked Melinda over, not sure why she was there, as his mind scrambled for something to say that wouldn't sound too lame. "Come here often?" he asked with a lopsided grin. Lame, his mind scolded. That was lame, you idiot.

On the stool opposite Melinda's, Wallace laughed. "Is that the best you can do, Bobby? I'm surprised. Didn't you learn anything from Daddy?"

Ignoring the woman, Melinda gave him a warm smile. "Not very, no."

"Me, neither," he said with a quiet laugh that charmed her.

He raised a hand to signal the bartender, who refilled his glass with Glenlivet. He motioned toward Melinda. "And whatever the lady wants."

"A glass of merlot, thanks," Melinda said.

"Merlot," Goren mused. "Do you know why they call those grapes merlot?"

"No, I don't," she replied, smiling.

"The Old French word for a young blackbird is merlot. The merlot grape is named for a bird." Again he laughed softly. He tipped his head when the bartender set her drink in front of her. "It's the third most popular grape grown in the world. Most merlot wines are fruity. Do you like fruit?"

She was amused by his ramblings. "Yes, I like fruit," she said with a small laugh.

He nodded and took a drink of his scotch. His speech was slow and careful. "Merlot is a good choice. My partner likes red wine, too, with dinner. It's a good wine to pair with meat and salmon. She likes salmon."

She didn't miss the affection in his tone when he talked about his partner. "Your partner...is that who you bought the gifts for?"

He turned his glass a quarter turn to the right, looking into the fluid. "An apology," he said softly. "I...I never meant to hurt her."

Wallace watched the exchange between Goren and Melinda with jealousy. "You never do, Bobby," she taunted. "But it always happens. You always hurt the ones you love, and then you wonder why they never stay."

Melinda glared at the woman. She was a malicious spirit, and her negative energy had to be affecting Goren. "I'm sure she knows that," she said with warm reassurance.

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes as he gave her a quick glance. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do."

Sneering, the ghost said, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Go away," Melinda hissed.

Goren frowned and looked at her. "Go away?"

Melinda gave him an apologetic smile. "Not you," she insisted.

Confused, Goren looked around, but there was no one nearby. "Then who?" he wondered.

"It's hard to explain."

He nodded slowly, his mind too muddled to search for meaning beyond her words. "It's always hard to explain. I tried to explain, but she didn't want to hear it."

"You are such an easy target, Bobby," Wallace said maliciously.

Focusing her energy, she reached out and touched his cheek. He jerked away from the unexpected sensation and almost fell off the bar stool. Melinda grabbed his arm to balance him, feeling relieved when the ghost vanished. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Okay? I'm not sure I'm ever okay. But I think I'm done here for the night." Melinda noticed his struggle to carefully choose and pronounce each word. Very few of his words were slurred, making it difficult for her to judge just how inebriated he really was. He pulled out his wallet and extracted several bills, which he laid on the bar. "Never okay," he repeated, finishing off his drink. "Not ever. Never. Funny how that word evolved. In Old English, the prefix 'ne-' was used to turn a word into its negative. Ne-ever. Never."

Melinda smiled. As drunk as he was, his intelligence still shone through. Something about him was endearing, and she liked him very much. She also realized this was definitely not the time to tell him he was haunted. He slid off the stool, holding onto the bar until he felt stable. He could not hide his unsteadiness, and it told her he'd been at the bar for a long time. "Here, let me walk you up to your room," she offered.

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"I know, but it would make me feel better if I did."

He watched her slide her arm into his, and he didn't offer any further protest. It was nice to feel cared for again. She guided him through the lobby to the elevator. While they waited for the elevator, Melinda noticed that the mist she'd seen in the bar had followed them, only now, instead of angry roiling reds and oranges, it was calmer, colored in more sedate shades of blues and greens.

When they entered the elevator, the cloud didn't follow them. Goren seemed to get restless in the confined space as they rode to the third floor. Most of his restlessness fell away when the elevator doors opened. She wondered if Nicole knew he was claustrophobic and if she should somehow find a way to warn him to avoid the elevators and other closed-in spaces that made him uncomfortable, at least until she was able to get Nicole to cross over.

When they stopped in front of his room, she released his arm so he could fish his room keycard from his pocket. As he moved it toward the lock, the card slipped through his fingers and hit the floor. Leaning down to pick it up, he lost his balance and tumbled headfirst into the door. He laughed, and she found it difficult not to join him as she grabbed him and helped him to right himself. She bent down to retrieve the card for him. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open. "Here you are," she announced.

As she placed the card into his hand, he leaned toward her out of habit and said, "Thanks for the escort."

"You're welcome," she answered, not finding him intimidating despite his size.

As he stepped into the room, he turned toward her, stumbling back two steps before he caught his balance. "Will you be okay...going home?"

With another smile, Melinda nodded. "I'll be fine, thank you." She paused. "Please be careful, Robert. You could be in danger."

His brow furrowed. "What kind of danger could I be in?"

"Please. Trust me. Just be careful. Good night."

Beyond the confusion in his eyes, she saw his deep sorrow. "Uh, good night."

He backed away from the door and it closed. Melinda looked at the door for a moment. Just as he closed the door, she saw the mist hovering behind him. She had no idea what to make of it, except that it did not seem to be threatening him. Slowly, she turned away and walked toward the elevators. There had to be some way she could help that man not only get rid of the venomous ghost who haunted him, but also find some peace in his own life. She was determined to try.

Goren didn't put any effort into wondering why Melinda showed up in the hotel bar, but her parting words remained with him. 'Trust me.' She had no idea what a tall order that was for him.

As he stumbled toward the bed, he slipped out of his shirt and undid his belt and his pants. He sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes, then wrestled off his pants and dropped them on the floor. Laying back on the bed, he folded his arms beneath his head. The ghost of Nicole Wallace appeared near the window and watched him before she crossed the room and stretched out on the king sized bed beside him. "So this is what it's like, being in bed with you."

As she had in the bar, she reached out to touch him. With a gasp, he sat up, and the room dipped and spun around him. He closed his eyes, and she laughed at him. "What's the matter, Bobby? Have you forgotten what a woman's touch feels like?"

He continued to look around for a few minutes before he laid back again. The room slowed down to spin in lazy circles and his mind blurred even more. His eyelids began to grow heavy. She touched his shoulder, moving her fingers along his collarbone. He tensed for a moment, but the odd sensation, whatever caused it, felt good. He was in no condition to analyze it, and he began to relax. His eyes eased closed and, in short order, he began to softly snore.

On the floor, his phone had slipped out of his pants pocket, and it began to ring. Wallace moved to the phone and saw that the call was from Eames. She clucked her tongue. "Shame on you, Detective Eames, calling so late."

She pressed a button to silence the device and ignore the call.

Goren never heard the phone ring.

He woke slowly, aching with need. It was a familiar sensation, the remnant of a recurring dream. Still lingering in the twilight of half-sleep, he slid his hand past the waistband of his boxers. In his sleep-and-alcohol blurred mind, he imagined the strokes came from another hand, one that belonged to someone who knew him, what he liked, what he wanted.

He groaned softly as he dealt with his tension, rolling onto his side and jerking his hips as he came. In recent weeks, his waking hours were numb and it was only in his near-dream state that he could address his body's needs. Laying still for a few moments, he slowly recovered as he slid back into full sleep. Wallace stepped from the shadows in the far corner, smiling a vicious smile. "Is that all the loving you get these days, Bobby?" she said derisively.

She sat on the bed and watched him sleep. "It's a shame I'm dead. I had such a good time setting you up with Dr. Croyden. What's one more body when it would put you through so much hell?"

She reached out and ran her fingers across his shoulders and down his back. He trembled at the touch, then sighed softly and drifted into the arms of his partner, the dream lover who saved him from himself.