The Crying Ghost

Summary: Now that the truth has been revealed…what happens next?
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the show 2:22; AU; references to canon character death
Author’s Note: 100% don’t read this if you have any intention of watching this show. This fic will spoil the ending

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The police were gone. Ben and Lauren were gone. Ben had apologised; Lauren had been in shock just as much as Jenny. Their goodbye had been subdued, at best. Leaving Jenny alone with her grief. Leaving her alone with the ghost of her dead husband who hadn’t and perhaps couldn’t move on.

He must have known. He had to have known. Known the truth and tried to keep it hidden for as long as he could. All those ridiculous questions. The way to come back from the dead. And that the ghost had appeared before Sam had returned. Before he’d come back. Before….

Jenny sat numbly on the floor, staring at the baby monitor. She didn’t need to rush up the stairs to rescue Phoebe from a hostile spirit. There was no hostile spirit. Just the ghost of her husband, who had somehow found his way back to her. Who’d tried to communicate with her in every way he possibly could before he’d finally found his way back to her.

And he’d tried to warn them not to follow through. To find out the truth. Because he hoped to continue living their life for as long as he could? Or because he wanted to see her…to see both of them…one last time?

“How can I leave now?” Jenny whispered hopelessly. “I have to stay. You found yourself back to me once, but how can I believe you can do it again?” She wiped at her eyes as she listened to Sam’s crying on the baby monitor. When she’d stepped into Phoebe’s room and heard him…had he tried to touch her, before she’d turned the light on and banished him?

Now that it was over, it all seemed so obvious. All the clues that pointed to something wrong with Sam. The window he kept claiming he’d closed when it was open. The fact that Alexa hadn’t responded to him. Even when he’d touched her…his hands had felt so cold.

Jenny wiped at her eyes and looked once more at the baby monitor. Would he disappear again, if she went to him? If she stepped into their baby’s room, would she be able to see him…touch him? She should have held onto him when she had the chance. When she believed he was alive and well and there with the three of them.

Instead, they’d argued. Quarrelled. And she’d ignored every warning given to step back. To drop the subject. Of course, he did it by trying to convince her she was just imagining it. By trying to tell her logical explanations for everything she’d seen and heard. Was it because he thought she’d accept his death better if she was pissed at him?

Jenny swiped at the tears that were staining her cheeks. Her eyes were still damp, but she’d stopped crying so heavily. And she could still hear the tears through the baby monitor. Could still hear the ghost of her dead husband walking around inside their daughter’s room.

Feeling numb inside, Jenny slowly climbed to her feet. She reached out and turned the baby monitor off. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked to the stairs. She climbed up them, towards Phoebe’s room. Stood outside it, listening to the footsteps.

She could hear the crying now, loud and clear. Or was it because she was now listening for it? It meant Sam was still there. Still here, even though he was dead. He wasn’t gone.

As she reached for the doorknob, Jenny remembered the quiz. Remembered the theories they’d all come out with for how a ghost could make its way back to the world of the living. What Sam had appeared to agree with…was that him? Fighting his way back to them?

As she opened the door, Jenny was half-expecting the footsteps and crying to stop. She didn’t switch the light on. The last time she’d done that, it had banished him. And she didn’t want that. Not now that she knew the truth.

She stepped into the nursery and closed her eyes. Listened to the restless pacing. The sobs of her dead husband. “Sam…” she whispered.

The crying stopped. The pacing stopped. She would have thought he was gone, but she could still feel him. Like she only had to open her eyes and he would be standing there. Like he had done during the evening, before the truth was ultimately revealed. Still without opening her eyes, she reached out towards where she thought he’d be. Where she hoped he’d be.

Cold fingers caught hers and she let out a sob. “Sam.”

“I’m here.” His voice was soft. Whispery. Like wind blowing through leaves.

Her fingers gripped his hand tighter and she opened her eyes.

Now that the truth was out, she’d been expecting him to look different. To look dead. Transparent. But he didn’t. He looked the same way as he had done during the dinner party. The only difference was in the tears that stained his face.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

She could feel him trembling against her. His arms came up to enclose her in an embrace and they just held onto each other.

She didn’t know how long they stood there like that for, holding onto each other. Her eyes were wet and she pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in deeply. He didn’t feel dead. The only difference was that his body temperature was so much cooler than it had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The tears filling her eyes spilled out, trickling down her cheeks. She looked up, into his eyes. At his face. It was dark in their daughter’s nursery, but she could still see him. “You didn’t choose what happened.” Her voice shook. She couldn’t say the truth. Couldn’t even think the words.

“Not about that.” His hands slid down her back. The touch chilled her, but was still a comfort. “For stifling you. For making you feel like you had to change your beliefs. To change who you were. For me.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Somehow, it seemed wrong to agree with what he was saying. When he was dead. When she didn’t know how or if she even could hold onto him. “You were trying to get through to me,” she whispered. “To come back to us.”

“I’m sorry. I know it scared you.”

“I wish you would have told me the truth.” She paused, considering how she would have reacted to the truth, and added, “Or at least not made me think I was going crazy.”

“I know.”

She closed her eyes and just held on tightly to him, letting herself feel him in her arms. She hadn’t held onto him so tightly when he’d come back and she’d thought he was still alive. They’d spent most of the time arguing.

She didn’t know how long they stood holding each other for. A few minutes? An hour? Time seemed to stand still. She wasn’t scared anymore, just sad. Grieving. Finally, though, she pulled back, enough to look up into his face, and reached up to touch his cheek. “Come downstairs with me?”

He turned his face to one side and kissed her palm before nodding.

Breathing in deeply, she stepped back, out of his arms, but took his hand to lead him out of the nursery, onto the landing. There, she paused and looked back over her shoulder.

His smile was sad. “I’m still here.”

She nodded and turned away from him, leading him down the stairs and into the main room. His hand in hers was cold, but despite the discomfort, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him.

When they reached the living room, Jenny led Sam over to the couch and sat down, pulling him down to sit next to her. “Are you going to leave now?” she asked quietly.

“I have to.” His voice was low. Reluctant. His lips brushed against the top of her head as he murmured, “I thought I could come back, once I found the way to. I thought I could stay. That things could be like they were.”

“And then I pushed to find out the truth,” she whispered.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway.” He sat in silence for a few moments before saying, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“But I think it bears repeating.” He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace and whispered, “Forgive me, please. I won’t be able to move on unless you can.”

“So if I don’t forgive you, you’ll stay?” She tried to smile, but her mouth trembled and tears filled her eyes.

“You know I can’t stay,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and nodded. For a few moments, she just leaned against him. Held his hand. She wanted to rest her head against his chest, but if she did, she wouldn’t hear or feel his heartbeat. And she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. Not yet.

He seemed to feel a similar way, because he just rested against her and they sat in silence for a few minutes before he whispered, “I can’t leave you like this.”

Jenny sat close to him for a few more moments and then looked up into his eyes. “I love you,” she whispered. “But I know I have to let you go.” Her vision blurred and her breath hitched as she said, “It would be wrong to keep you here.”

“I can’t go while this is between us.”

She nodded, slowly, reaching up to cup his cheek briefly. Her hand slid down his face, over his shoulder and down his arm, until she grasped his hand.

There was no struggle or protest as she pulled Sam across her lap. Despite knowing that he was dead, that he was a ghost, his body against hers was a solid, comforting weight.

She lifted her hand and brought it down firmly on the seat of his trousers.

He shifted, but otherwise didn’t react.

Jenny delivered a few more smacks, but after perhaps a minute, all she’d achieved was a stinging palm. And Sam was showing no reaction, even if he wasn’t resisting.

Jenny rubbed his back for a few moments and then directed, softly, “Get up. Take your trousers down.”

He pushed himself up slowly when she moved her hand. He didn’t stand, though, instead kneeling on the couch next to her. He unbuckled and removed his belt. Unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, then pushed them down along with his underwear. Once that was done, he positioned himself back over her lap, settling in place.

She let one hand rest on his back, rubbing gently. At the same time, she lifted her other hand and brought it down in a ringing slap at the crest of his bare bottom.

Sam made a near soundless gasp and she continued with the firm smacks, working her way down to mid-thigh before she began again from the top.

When she finished the second circuit of swats and began a third, Sam spoke, his voice hitched and sounding close to tears. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I didn’t. Even then. I-I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.”

Tears filled Jenny’s own eyes, but she didn’t stop swatting. Instead, she began to speak as she smacked. “You didn’t mean to leave me. You didn’t choose to die. And I know you fought your way back to me.” She breathed in deep, feeling the stab of grief at the back of her throat. “But you had a choice in how you spoke to me when you returned. How you treated me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam’s voice broke on a sob; and then he was crying in earnest, not moving or resisting in any way. When he continued speaking, his words came out broken through tears. “I knew. I got back to you, but I knew. All I could think of was to push you, to force you, away from the truth. If I did that, I could stay. But I was wrong. So wrong. Please…forgive me. Don’t let me go back without making things right.”

She stopped spanking, but kept her hand on his back, stroking lightly. “Of course,” she whispered. “Of course I forgive you. I love you. I will always love you.”

“And I will always love you.” Sam pushed himself up and stood in front of her. He leaned forward and their lips met in a hard, desperate kiss.

Jenny closed her eyes and returned the kiss with all the fervour and passion that she felt inside. Finally, slowly, she pulled back and opened her eyes.

Sam was gone.

The End