#*temp about.

melinda sees her first ghost as young as three years old. then, though, they are passed off as imaginary friends. it's all fine for a few years until melinda gets too old to have imaginary friends, and then things start to become troublesome. "it's time to grow up," is heard over and over again by all the adults in her life. her mother beth tells her to stop being silly, they're not real. you can't keep making people up, melinda. but somehow, melinda knows she isn't. she knows they're real, she can feel it in her bones, in the way it makes her feel when they look at her.

the medical treatment and therapy sessions begin quite early. at eight years old, melinda's mother makes her an appointment at a children's mental health clinic and after several follow-up appointments spanning over the course of a few months, melinda is started on a regular routine of antipsychotics and antidepressants. she doesn't like them; they make her feel hazy and tired and out of touch with everything. the spirits become blurred figures and muffled voices, but they're still there. melinda doesn't speak of them much anymore after that, though, especially to her mother, but beth seems pleased with these changes. melinda begins to struggle a lot more with everyday things like school, making friends, sleeping too much, not eating enough—but there isn't much talk of melinda's imaginary friends anymore, so the medicine must be working.

one morning, a few months after starting the medications, melinda slips the pills under her tongue in an effort to hide them from her mother and make her believe she took them when she didn't. she didn't like the way they made her feel, and her mother didn't seem to care; melinda just wanted to start feeling a little normal again—if there was anything normal about her. however, that night when melinda is flushing the pills down the toilet, beth catches her in the act and scolds her, grounding her from the little bits of fun melinda had managed to find—for a week. "you can't just stop taking your medicine whenever you want to, melinda! you need it."

for the first nine years of her life, melinda's mother beth tells her that her grandfather died before she was born and her grandmother lives towns away. there's always a reason for them not to go visit and melinda is too young to question it. they call every so often and talk on birthdays and holidays, but the conversations are always short and beth always has an ear closely listening in. the few times they do manage to speak of melinda's "imaginary friends" and her sudden mental illness without being interrupted, melinda quickly learns that her grandmother can see them, too. they are real. this revelation is crucial for melinda, who up until this point was told she was crazy by anyone and everyone—including her mother.

melinda meets her grandmother in person for the first time when she's nine, and it's both a traumatic and lovely experience. it's for a funeral; someone in the family, someone close, someone important, but still someone melinda had never met. a maternal relation that melinda had been kept from. he'd died of old age, peacefully in his sleep, but there he was standing beside his wife with sadness in his eyes as he watched her cry. and there he was in the casket, body stiff and cold but prepared beautifully. it was a strange thing for melinda, who for over a year now has been used to the indistinct figures of spirits and their soft, barely there voices—this was nothing like that. he was clear as day even through the haze of the medications, and melinda will later learn that it's their familial bond that strengthens the connection here. this time, melinda knows what's happening; even so young, she recognizes that standing beside his wife is the old man's spirit. she doesn't say anything out loud, but somehow he seems to know that she can see him. maybe it's the way she looks straight into his eyes—or maybe it has something to do with her grandmother, who the old man turns to smile brightly at. he walks to them, to the only two people in the church who could see him, and asks for their help. "mary ann, will you talk to her? tell my wife...." but it's melinda who helps this time, for the first time. even with great dissatisfaction from her mother, who seems to know exactly what's going on despite her insistence on calling the people melinda sees imaginary. melinda relays the man's messages to his wife with quiet whispers in her ear. she thanks her profusely, and melinda gets to see the old man walk into the light with a smile on his face. her grandmother later calls it "crossing over," and she says it's when these earthbound spirits finally move on to have peace.

this would be melinda's gift.

melinda goes back home to blurry faces and little whispers, and nothing seems to have changed. her mother reminds her of her upcoming therapy appointment and they eat dinner with tension thick in the air. when melinda asks about it—"i'm just tired, melinda. it's been a long day."

beth fights her mother about it, but in the end, melinda's grandmother stays the night with them. melinda wakes early in the morning to yelling voices, loud even though they try to shout their words in whispers. they're arguing over melinda. mary ann sees the damage done by the medications, sees how out of touch melinda is, and how slow her reaction time is. she notices how after dinner, melinda can barely keep her eyes open and runs off to bed at only seven at night where other children are begging just another five minutes, mom. mary ann knows melinda's medical treatment is unnecessary and sees clearly that it's doing more harm than good to the nine-year-old girl, but beth insists that she knows what's best for her daughter. "you can't hide this from her, beth, you'll only hurt her more." and beth is angry, seemingly determined to force her version of normal on her child. she won't accept anything else; these "spirits" have no place in her life. there is no such thing, mom, you're acting— "crazy?" mary ann demands, and beth says nothing.

it's clear beth won't be convinced, and melinda rushes back to bed before she can be caught listening in on their conversation. downstairs, mary ann makes beth an offer: "let her come home with me. take a break from this, beth, if it's too much for you..."

the next day, beth sits at home with her thoughts while mary ann and melinda go out to enjoy the sunshine. they take frequent breaks, of course, considering how tired melinda gets, but it's the most fun she's had in years. they go out for ice cream and talk, and for the first time in a long time melinda feels heard. she doesn't feel crazy, she feels known. her grandmother makes her feel warm and safe and accepted, maybe even special, and while she knows her mother loves her, it felt so much different—so much better—with mary ann.

when they arrive back home, it seems beth's anger has had time to sit and fester. she's got melinda's belongings packed, sitting on the front porch and ready to go. "i guess she's your kind of mental, mom. you deal with it." without so much as a hug goodbye, beth slams the door in their faces and leaves mary ann to pick up the pieces left of melinda's heart as she cries. this is the last time she sees her mother for many, many years.

mary ann takes melinda back to her home in TBA (still developing this....) and the first thing that goes in the trash is melinda's useless medication.

more to be written. this is a wip.

notes on melinda's present verse.

i'm not exactly canon compliant in any sense, but i'm very much divergent after 4x07. jim doesn't come back. his death is tragic and horrible and awful, but he sticks around for awhile before melinda convinces him to cross over. it's a very rough thing for melinda to do, but she knows it's the right thing. she wants peace for him.