A/N: This is based on season one's episode Last Execution and the first two scenes are taken directly from the episode - the bench and beginning of washing the dishes - most of the dialogue from those two sections are directly from the episode as well. I only just put my little TLF spin onto it for the sake of the story :) Enjoy! xoxo Mariah

Ages:

Jim - 26
Melinda - 22

Melinda sat up in bed not long after midnight, holding her hair that was once on her head not long ago. The cut was jagged, not intentional on her husband's part, but the stress of the situation had come to drastic measures.

She loved her hair. She took care of it, the color and the feel of it, but now she had to get a haircut. One shorter than she was used to, but supposed it wouldn't be too bad of a change. It would grow back after all.

It was storming pretty badly, the trees smacking against the bedroom window every once and a while and making her jump.

She glanced over at her sleeping husband, tucked under his pillow as thunder roared and the trees smacked again. Her heart hadn't stopped racing yet, her jaw trembled when she thought about something for too long and all she wanted was to lay in Jim's arms, but he'd pulled away while she was asleep because of the storm.

Luckily, he had been able to stay asleep. She wished she could sleep as peacefully and quickly as her husband often did. She looked over at him as he snored loudly and smiled playfully. He was so cute when he slept.

As the tree stilled outside, she set the hair on her nightstand and pulled herself from the bed.

Something wasn't right. It was the kind of silence that fell right before someone got knifed in the back. It sent a shiver down her spine as she stepped closer, the tree slapped the window and she jumped back, her blood-chilling in her veins. She slowly stopped over to the window again peering out of it as a body dropped against the window, much like the decoy at the party.

With a screeching scream, Melinda backed away from the window as Jim jumped from the bed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She whipped around and grabbed at his shoulders with a frightful grip. She could barely catch her breath to speak, no words coming as she started to cry.

"What happened?" He asked and he gripped her forearm. "Melinda? What happened?"

"We're not alone," she hyperventilated and grasped him for dear life. "It's still here."

His hands moved from her arm to her waist and pulled her in, she ducked her head and pressed into his chest as she sobbed.

"Come here," he whispered and set his chin on top of her head. "It's alright. It's ok. I'm here, I'm not going to let go of you." She grasped him closer and he rubbed her back softly to soothe her. "You're alright."

He brought her to the bed and held her as she cried in his arms.

No ghost had ever affected her like this, and he didn't like it. He didn't like how powerful they were getting, that they were truly scaring the wits out of not only her but him too. He couldn't lose her to this, he just couldn't. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did.

Her body was stiff in his arms, shaking and panicked. He wished he could soothe her, but he knew how slim his chances were right now.

He was pleasantly surprised when she laid her head in his lap. Her arms had come off from around him when she laid down, so he chose to stroke her hair, mesmerized by how soft it felt after everything that had happened tonight.

She glanced up at him and he knew she thought the feeling was as nice for her as it was for him. They sat like that for a long time, perfectly content. In fact, he was so content, he wished he could stay this way with her forever. She would never be hurt as long she stayed right here in their home with him.

He glanced down at the woman in his lap who had finally relaxed. She breathed evenly, her face relaxed and eyes closed now. He stopped, only for a moment and she opened her eyes to look at him, her brow furrowed.

"What?" She whispered, her voice soft.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now and live in it forever," he breathed.

She looked contemplative, but she smiled and leaned into the palm of his hand on her scalp. "Okay." Her eyes closed contentedly once again. "I'd be happy here with you, safe, forever."

He couldn't help the grin that came, a slight elation filling his heart. He resumed playing with her hair and saw her beginning to drift off. He really did wish to freeze this moment. To just gaze at her with no fear and no ghosts, forever.

The entire day for Melinda had been weird. Jim was off this morning, which hardly ever happened during the week. She didn't know if he'd called in because of the night before, but he'd been in bed with her when she woke up for work. It had been a few happy moments of sleepy mumbling between the two before they kissed and she got out of bed to shower. He'd been up and in the kitchen by the time she returned.

He'd left her waffles and a bowl of whipped cream. The waffles smelled of the orange rinds and roasted pecans which she knew he'd mixed in with them. There was powdered sugar, blueberries, and raspberries on top just the way he knew she liked it. He also had left the syrup out and silverware.

It was his grandmother's recipe, which he'd learned from his father.

She loved her husband. He was always so caring about making sure she ate. Even if he had to get off to work.

That morning had been stressful with finding the painting the ghost had left in the back room of her shop. She hadn't been able to shake the bad feeling this ghost gave her. He was a convicted killer, how could he be innocent? Even if Leslie believed it. But who was she to not believe her when she was asking her to believe in her gift.

Mr. Alan Rowe had turned out to be creepy, but that wasn't unusual. He'd always been a little off in the time she'd known him. She wasn't looking forward to seeing him. Hearing his monotoned reply only made her not look forward to seeing him.

"I don't know why or how it happened Mr. Rowe," she apologized for what seemed like the tenth time to the man in the last five minutes.

He continued to blab on about how expensive it was to acquire those types of artifacts. She agreed, knowing fairly well how expensive things can be in this industry. He only scoffed her off, saying how incredibly busy hew as to be coming over to get them, if that's what she wanted him to do.

"If you wouldn't mind," she sighed, looking at the empty storefront. "It will save me a trip. Thanks. See you soon." She hung up the phone, sighing. "Is it just me or is everyone in this town, weird?" Melinda leaned up against the front counter, as Andrea looked through the bag of antique hanging equipment.

The store had been empty most of the morning, but neither of them minded. It had been busy all week and they enjoyed the time to talk to each other.

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" Andrea chuckled, glancing at her friend. She did speak to ghosts for a living. "I mean, coming from you…"

"No. I want an answer!" She said, walking toward her. She could tell that her friend hadn't gotten used to her new hair and Melinda didn't blame her. She wasn't used to it either. She wished it hadn't happened in the first place.

"Alright," Andrea paused, thinking of an answer. She leaned on the bag as she smiled at her friend. "I think you have the unique ability to bring out the strangeness in other people. How does that sound?"

"Rather sweet..." Melinda giggled softly and smiled, rubbing her arm.

The door opened, chiming to their ears and pulling their attention. Melinda watched as her husband came into the store, shoulders slouched and eyes adrift.

Had something happened? Last she'd seen he'd saved that woman's life. It had made her heart skip a beat to see him in action like that. He was so distracting sometimes. Melinda would never quite tell anyone about how much she adored just looking at her husband.

"Hey," he whispered, motioning outside. "Can I talk with you outside for a second?"

Andrea met her eyes a moment later and winked, giving her the okay to go. She walked toward him and kissed him softly on the cheek before walking out the door with him.

"You look down…" He closed the door as she hugged him, wrapping her arm around his middle as they walked toward the curb. "What's up?"

They crossed the street, his arm moving around her and his hand resting on her hip.

"Remember earlier when that woman fell in the square?" He muttered, finally easing the silence away as they stepped back onto the sidewalk, moving through the square.

"Yes. My very handsome and heroic husband saved her." She said, smiling at him as they sat down on their usual square bench.

"Well, she claims I injured her ribs. That I bruised her while I was reviving her," he explained rather monotonous. He sounded like the rep that had probably said it to him, she thought, reaching to touch his cheek then. He leaned into it. "They're calling it negligence Mel."

"You saved that woman's life! How can she get away with this?" She asked, rolling her eyes. She muttered the next part, trying not to let him hear it. "Why would she want to sue you? You saved her life."

But he had and chuckled, kissing her cheek then. "She's got a doctor's report, a lawyer, and is in the hospital. It's pretty easy. All she had to do was fill out the forms and the investigation began."

"Yeah, but aren't you protected from this by the county?" She asked, her hand brushing through his hair.

"That's the problem," he sighed once more. "Technically, I was off-duty. It was ten minutes before my shift." She sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "Yeah... I feel you. She's suing me personally, the squad, the village of Grandview, and the county of Driscoll." He explained, trying to make a small joke at her vast amount of people she's suing.

She smiled, looking at his blue eyes as he glanced up at the sky. He side, looking back at her, smiling then too.

"What are you gonna do?" She asked, pulling on the collar of his jacket and straightening it out.

"Stay focused. What can I do?" He asked, shrugging. "I just wanted to tell you what was going on. Keep you in the loop."

"Okay..." She whispered, smiling at him. "I'm glad you came over. I missed you and I never got to thank you for breakfast. So thank you for the waffles."

Without hesitation, they both slowly moved in and kissed. Her plump lips compelling against his slimmer, warm ones into a familiar dance as she waved her fingers through his hair. He was moved, leaning into her as his arms moved around her waist.

His lips moved, his breath hot on her neck as he pulled her into him. He sought comfort after the hecticness of this morning against the expanse of her neck under his tongue. A gesture that sent her head spinning.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" She hummed, her question present even as he ignored her. He knew that once he kissed her neck that her resistance will crumble in a matter of minutes if he kept at it enough. "Jim..."

She pulled at his hair and he pulled back licking his lips. "Yeah, Sul said I had a few minutes." He whispered, shrugging.

She looked at her watch. Ten thirty. "Okay," she pulled him back to her with a winked, kissing him again almost immediately. She could afford a few more minutes too.

"How was your day? Any more ghostly visits from the hangman?" Jim asked, handing a dish to her as she dried them.

They had just finished dinner not long ago, both having a third glass of wine as they did the dishes. He had made chicken while she focused on the sides. She'd made asparagus and a cold pasta salad. Well, she'd bought the pasta salad at the supermarket, but had put it in a dish and that was close enough right?

"Hangman, how original. There were three visits. He left me a painting this morning, came by when I was with his daughter, and gave me a vision." She sighed and finished her glass of wine quickly, putting it in the sink for him.

She didn't really want to talk about it yet, not completely. But it was hard to hide both of her hands going to touch her neck, despite being wet.

"You were with him when he died, weren't you?" He asked, watching as her fingers move. She sighed, looking over at him. Don't ask right now, she pleaded with him through her eyes, but he shook his head. He didn't want to let this go. He never did. "I want to talk about this. I hate that this happens and that I can't do anything about it."

"Jim," she whispered, shaking her head. He just didn't understand the way she did, not completely.

He kissed the tender place in her neck, a small bruise forming there on both sides. She could still feel the pressure, the squeezing of the rope as her whole body tensed up. She'd struggled to catch her breath for so long after that vision. "Remind me to put some cream on this later? I don't want it swelling." He said, suddenly her doctor man.

"I wasn't just with him, Jim. I was him." How was she supposed to tell him about this? Did he really want to know everything she went through? "I walked up those steps in the middle of a lonely field. My heart was racing. Everything inside me wanting to just grab onto the railing for dear life. Anything to stop me from getting to the top," she whispered, looking down at the water. His hands went in, grabbing the wine glass as he rinsed and held it to her. She could see the rope in the water, swaying in the wind like it did in the vision.

He took the rag from her, drying the wine glass and going to put it in the cupboard with the rest. After he came behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

"What do you see?" He asked, his lips touching her shoulder, hoping to distract her enough to get an answer. She was wearing a tank top, one with a cut-out design in the front. He'd seen her in it three times, each of them he'd taken it off by the end of the night. She always wore the best bra underneath it.

"Nothing," she whispered. It was gone anyway. He gave her the towel back. "I was thinking... he was there after." He nodded, moving past her to grab the last plate and clean it quickly. There was only the pan he had cooked the chicken in and a glass left. He grabbed the handle on the pan, putting it in the sudsy water to let it soak. "He kept saying make it stop."

"Make what stop?" He asked, grabbing the glass next.

"Sometimes spirits who die violent deaths get stuck here, reliving their final moments over and over again." She explained lightly. "And maybe... that's what's happening here. He wants to say something to his daughter and I keep trying to get them together, but she's very stubborn."

"How close are you gonna get to this one?" He asked, leaning against the counter as he washed inside the cup.

"As close as I have to, I guess," she said, looking at him. She was waiting for him to give her the glass now. "I need to cross this guy over as soon as possible."

"Yeah... I get it," he said, the glass slipped out of his hands and shattered at their feet. She'd never been more thankful to be wearing slippers. "Oh, man..." He groaned, throwing the sponge in the sink as he went to grab the broom.

"You know, it's just a glass." She said, grabbing the pan out of the water, beginning to scrub it clean for him as he walked over with the broom. "We have others, Jim."

"I know," He said, taking the dustpan off the broom. There was a long pause as he began to sweep up the glass before he spoke again. "But I liked this one. Watch your feet."

She leaned against the counter and watched him before realizing it's about the woman in the square from earlier. She'd almost forgotten about it. About that woman who was filing a suit on her husband for reviving her too harshly.

"Hey. How are you doing?" She asked, smiling at him. He hadn't mentioned it since that morning. Had things changed? "You know, since this morning…"

"Just got this deposition hanging over my head," he sighed, sweeping up the glass carefully. "And I'm on leave until it's settled. Sul managed to have it be paid leave, so at least we're still making money."

"I'm sorry. I was going on about my stuff." She whispered and looked down at her hands, fiddling with her rings. "You have stuff going on too."

"It's like you say- our stuff." He said, standing up and walking over to kiss her. It was too small of a moment before he pulled back to empty the dustpan. "You know... Tooge thinks this is gonna taint me no matter what. It's like it's gonna be on my record or something."

He slid the broom back behind the garbage, walking toward her. He stopped at the kitchen island, smiling at her. He was so handsome.

She crossed her arms and laughed. "Is this the same Bobby Tooge who tried to dry his underwear in the stove and almost set his kitchen on fire?"

He suddenly chuckled and leaned against the counter adjacent to her. "Yeah."

"Look... all I'm saying is don't sit around and wait for something to happen." She said and walked over to him, her hands moving up his chest and wrapping her arms around his back. "Go talk to this lady and show her who you are. Try to reason with her. You can be hard to resist." She pulled her arms back and her hands ran down his shoulders. "I can attest to that."

He closed his eyes briefly, but not before she saw how dark and burning they were. Their lips met and she lost herself in the sensation before he pulled back.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, licking his lips before he kissed her once more.

"Mhmm," she said, nodding her head as they kissed.

"And it was his socks," he said, nudging her to pull away.

"His what?" She asked, pulling back to look at him.

"He set his socks on fire, not his underwear." He corrected her from before.

"Oh. My sincerest apologies for my rush to judgment," she laughed and then pressed her mouth against his once more.

He deepened the kiss and his tongue swept into her mouth. She couldn't help it - a small whimper escaped her. His hands drifted down to her hips, picking her up into his arms. She crossed her legs around his waist and heard his breath hitch as his lips brushed against her ear then felt the scrape of his teeth against the lobe.

"Jim," she gasped, but he continued to trail kisses along her jaw.

Once again, he pulled the lobe between his teeth. It was like there was a direct connection from that part of her body to her hips. She moved against him and he groaned. His mouth slipped down behind her ear. The kisses there were hot, urgent. Jim pulled little bits of flesh from there against his teeth and her back arched. He moved to the hollow of her throat and gave her hips a savage tug against him.

The friction. Him against her. She cried out.

She tugged on his hair, pulling his lips back to hers for a quick kiss. He looked deep into her eyes.

"Where do you want me?" She said as he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"The usual place," he whispered, kissing her jaw and nipping at her. "Where do you want me?"

"Right here, right now." She whispered, tugging on his hair.

"I can agree on that," he said, turning around and placing her on the counter.

Later that night they laid naked in the moonlight that shone through the curtains in the kitchen, his arm draped over her waist. She leaned in for another kiss, moving a bit as she laid on top of him.

"I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow," she whispered. Her fingers trailed down the hills and valleys of his chest and stomach, looking up at him. "I would keep this going and not tell you we should go shower and get ready for bed."

He moved his hand up her side and to her cheek, brushing away a little strand of hair. "Then don't go," he said softly. "I don't have any work shifts this week because I'm on leave."

"Mr. Rowe is stopping by the shop in the morning," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I have to be in by eleven."

"Open late then," he urged, his teeth pulling on her ear. "For me?"

"Well… alright," she laughed, kissing his chest. "But I'd only do it for you."