Another piece written with Loafer, so loads of Lassiet with a dash of Shules. Not set during any specific season. Read on and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not ours!
PsychPsychPsychPsychPsych
It was supposed to be a simple interview, Juliet thought as she reloaded her Glock. Shawn was hiding behind the filing cabinet to her left, brandishing a lamp, and Berman was under his desk shooting at them. She wasn't sure her position behind the large leather chair was going to hold up much longer.
"Shawn!" she yelled. "Call for backup!"
Shawn yelled back, "I forgot my phone!"
"How in the hell can you forget your phone?"
"Okay, I didn't forget it! I left it next to the toaster and then when Gus chased me for eating the last poptart, I got distracted!"
"You get distracted by dryer lint!" she yelled. Berman shot at the arm of the chair and upholstery stuffing exploded in front of her. She shot at the center of the desk, cursing in a most unladylike fashion.
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Berman swore as one of the bullets from the lady cop's gun lodged itself in the wood of the desk. There was no way in hell he was going back to jail. And he certainly wasn't going to be arrested by a bitch with a badge. Either he would go down in a blaze of glory, or she would. He aimed his gun again and pulled the trigger, and his lips curled in a wicked sneer when the cop cried out in pain. He squeezed the trigger again.
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But his shot went wild, because a lamp hit him in the forehead. "Go Shawn," Juliet managed weakly, watching through a haze of pain as Shawn nearly leapt over her to continue his attack on Berman, who was flailing in his attempt to get away. Shawn threw everything at him-stapler, tape dispenser, scissors; he even used the desk blotter as a giant Frisbee, knocking the gun out of his hand and then sitting on him while applying liberal amounts of tape to the man's visible skin.
Juliet fished her phone out of her pocket, feeling weaker by the second. She managed to call for backup with the fateful phrase "officer down" surprisingly difficult to say, and Shawn came back to her side just before she passed out.
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By the time the paramedics arrived, Juliet hadn't regained consciousness. The medics questioned Shawn as they stabilized Juliet and placed her on a stretcher. Backup finally arrived, and as Berman was handcuffed, Shawn followed the paramedics outside and to the waiting ambulance.
During the ride to the hospital, Juliet briefly woke up. Shawn was close to her, and he was surprised when he heard her whisper Lassie's name. He tried to reassure her that he was there, but she slipped back out of consciousness again and a paramedic shoved him aside. There was blood everywhere, and he couldn't help thinking that Gus probably would have passed out at the sight of it.
Oh, Gus.
They finally arrived at the hospital, and as Juliet was rushed beyond double doors that only medical staff was granted access to, it occurred to Shawn that he probably needed to call Lassiter.
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Lassiter was in court, waiting to testify. He felt the buzz of his cell phone in his jacket pocket, but every time he considered trying to take it out for a peek, the prosecuting attorney seemed to look his way, as if he knew the attention of the arresting officer was wandering.
Well, his attention was wandering. He was thinking about having reluctantly agreed to let Spencer go with Juliet to talk to Berman this morning. Berman was a no-good, shifty little... well, he was no good. Juliet, with only Spencer as 'backup,' might be outnumbered. God knows Spencer was unpredictable; even when he ended up doing the right thing it was never without considerable cleanup afterward.
But Juliet was a good cop and he'd impressed upon her how carefully she needed to watch Berman, to the point where she had threatened to pistol-whip him.
"You'd never do that," he said cockily. "You love your Glock as much as I love mine."
Juliet had laughed. "Yeah, but I also love getting know-it-all men to shut up."
He'd grinned, thought she was beautiful, and gone on his way to court.
Damn phone kept vibrating. He was going to have to check it. No one would be that persistent-knowing he was in court-without good cause.
"I call Detective Carlton Lassiter to the stand."
Damnit, now the phone would have to wait.
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Shawn sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket. He had tried calling Lassie five times, but there was no answer. That wasn't a good sign.
Buzz McNab was the first to show up, followed quickly by Gus and Henry. Shawn didn't quite recall calling McNab, but he had sent some kind of strange text to Gus asking him to bring him a pineapple smoothie. Where? Oh, just to St. Mark's Hospital. Why? Cause Juliet had two bullets in her, and he was hungry.
Vaguely he heard his dad shout at him, but he wasn't listening. Shouldn't Lassie have shown up first? Didn't he have some kind of homing beacon or a 'Juliet's in trouble, she might die' sixth sense? Or was that just the dog and Timmy. Or Uncle John? Whatever the guy's name was who was always getting trapped in the burning barn.
Damn it, Lassie, get here. But oh, he wished he was the one Juliet needed.
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Lassiter answered every question at least six times, phrased six ways, with six intonations, and not only gave the same answer six times but managed to stay calm and keep the edge out of his voice. He wanted the defendant to go to jail, he wanted to get off this stand, and he wanted to know what the hell trouble he was going to find on his phone.
"Let's go over what you discovered at the crime scene one more time, Detective," the defense attorney said snidely. "I'm sure you think you didn't miss anything, but I have a few more questions."
Question this, Lassiter thought, picturing himself giving the guy the finger, the butt of his pistol and maybe a swift kick.
In the back of his mind, while he duly answered the same questions a seventh time, he was feeling something new. He kept having images of Juliet. A sense... a sense of foreboding he didn't like, because as the minutes dragged by, he became more and more certain something was wrong. Juliet was in trouble. And he was trapped here on the witness stand with a bunch of lawyers, a judge, some beefy bailiffs and a room full of spectators standing between him and finding out what was going on with her.
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The minutes ticked by, and in the waiting room, a large group was forming. Word of Juliet's condition spread like wildfire until there were not only members from the SBPD, but from neighboring precincts as well. It wasn't surprising to Shawn how many people cared about Jules. She was incredible, and no one wanted to see harm befall her.
Nearby, Henry Spencer watched his son intently. Weeks ago, Shawn had told him with great delight that he and Juliet were finally together, but Henry held his tongue for once. His son was a playboy, an attention seeker. Juliet was the girl next door, the kind of girl who had her heart set on marriage and kids. Shawn was a big kid himself. And here recently, Shawn's unwillingness to discuss their relationship had Henry wondering if they had broken up already.
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Gus paced the floor anxiously, and every few seconds he looked at his best friend. There wasn't a progress report on Juliet yet, and that had his stomach in knots. What if she died? She was such a good person, with a big heart and a personality that just drew people to her. She couldn't die.
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McNab was the most quiet in the room. Standing in a corner by himself, he couldn't help but send a text to his wife telling her that he loved her. This career was a dangerous one, and if Juliet O'Hara could be shot, anyone could. She was the last person in the world who deserved this.
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Finally, close to three hours after the ambulance had arrived at St. Mark's, a man in a white coat stepped into the waiting room. "Family of Juliet O'Hara?" He paused when every person in the room stood up.
Before he could say anything else, Katherine Vick approached him. "Juliet's family is in Miami. I'm her captain, and her medical proxy will be arriving shortly."
He looked into the sea of concerned faces. "Maybe I should wait until they arrive."
To everyone's surprise, it was McNab who strode forward and harshly spoke, "We don't know when that will be. Just tell us if Juliet is going to be okay."
"Perhaps you should all find a seat..."
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Juliet felt fuzzy all over. She felt as if she were made of, filled with, and possibly eating fuzz. Only it was really heavy fuzz. Lead fuzz. She was real and unreal at the same time; floating and yet laid out somewhere with a seventeen-ton weight on her (sixteen was the standard, but this was extra-heavy).
Things hurt. Everything hurt. Her side and her shoulder, they hurt the most. What was wrong... what was wrong... where was Carlton?
Suddenly in the fuzz, in the lead weight murky fuzz, that was the one thing she most wanted to know: where was Carlton? She needed him. He would make everything alright. Sure, he might shoot a few people in the process, and he might yell at her for hiding in the heavy fuzz, but he'd make everything all right.
Carlton... where are you... the fuzz is so heavy... it all hurts... I know you'd tell me to tough it out until you could get help but really I just want to... I just want to hear your voice and look into your eyes and know that you're by my side... Carlton...
The fuzz slipped away as she slid back into unconsciousness.
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As the doctor left the waiting room, Shawn blinked slowly. Then he stepped out of the room and into the hallway. No one followed him.
This was his fault. Juliet was hurt and in the ICU because of him.
Lassie was gonna kill him.
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Lassiter was excused from the stand, the courtroom was adjourned for the day, and he had his phone out before he'd even made it to the main hall, giving a steely-eyed glare to the bailiff who frowned at him.
Five texts.
Lassie, Jules was shot. St. Mark's.
In surgery. Waiting for news. Where R U?
Lassiefrass, come on. Jules asked for you in the ambulance.
Berman went nuts on us. It's probably my fault. I know you think most things are. But wow those desk blotters can fly.
You really gotta get here, Lassie.
He nearly ran to the parking lot, his heart constricting with fear and worry. In the car, already headed toward the hospital, he called Spencer.
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Shawn felt his phone vibrate against his hip, and he quickly retrieved it. Lassie. Without hesitation, he brought the phone to his ear and prepared himself for one very loud and angry conversation. Well, he wasn't wrong, at least about the loud and angry part. There wasn't much conversation, except Lassie telling him that he was on his way. Finally! Shawn hated hospitals, but he would wait for Lassie and make sure that Juliet was okay before he left. Unless Juliet asked him to stay.
But that was very unlikely.
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Within ten minutes, Shawn heard Lassie at the other end of the hall. He sounded angry and worried, and Shawn fully expected Lassie to focus his anger and aggression on him.
He was right.
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knew he had to stay calm. He knew he couldn't haul off and hit Spencer. He knew Juliet would want him to keep himself together and not make an unnecessary scene. He knew all that.
When he got within striking distance of the man, and saw him holding his ground-and looking stricken-some of his anger drained away, but not all of it. "Where is she? How is she? And what in holy hell happened, Spencer?"
Spencer said evenly, "Berman drew on us halfway through the conversation. We took cover but he got two shots into Jules. She's out of surgery and the doctor says the greatest concern is blood loss. Everyone else has gone to donate but I waited here for you so you could hit me if that's what you need to do."
Lassiter ran a shaking hand through his hair, considering the offer to hit him and then rejecting it as being not satisfying enough if Spencer could see it coming. Focus, man, focus. "Blood. Yeah. Okay. Can I see her?" Because suddenly that was what mattered.
"Not yet, but-"
"But when? They can't keep me out of there; I'm her-"
Spencer cut him off. "Look, Lassie, you're as unwelcome in there as the rest of us. You're going to have to-"
"Don't you tell me what I'm going to have to do, Spencer," he ground out, the anger returning. "It was supposed to be a simple visit to a suspect, that's all. You must have tipped your hand with one of your psychic episodes, or-" But he stopped himself, with tremendous effort. "I want to see her."
"Give blood first. Buy some time." Spencer gestured down the hall. "Come on, Lassie."
Lassiter looked toward the doors into Recovery, torn between blazing his way in and doing what Spencer suggested. Juliet. God, Juliet, I should have been there.
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As Shawn suggested, Lassiter donated blood. But once he was done, he couldn't wait anymore. He headed back down the hall, in the direction of the ICU.
If there was anything he had learned about hospitals, it was that if you gave the impression that you belonged there, generally no one questioned your presence. So he did just that as he made his way to the nurse's station.
There was one nurse at the desk, and she gave Lassiter a weary smile. "Can I help you?"
"I need to know the status on Juliet O'Hara. She's in ICU. Or Recovery. I'm not sure."
She started to look her up on the computer, pausing to ask, "What is your relationship to the patient?"
For a moment, he stared at her, blank. My relationship to the patient. Her relationship to me.
Well.
She's the bright spot in every day. She's the reason I keep going when I most want to lay down my gun and let someone else take over. She's the one I would die for. She is my partner.
"Sir?" she prompted.
He knew she'd heard it all over the years. A thousand excuses, a thousand lies people came up with to justify getting medical information the law-but not the law of what was RIGHT-said they weren't allowed to have.
"Sir," she repeated, her tone now skeptical. "Your relationship to the patient?"
"She's my wife," he said, and swallowed.
"Oh." Her entire demeanor changed as she stood up and grabbed a file. "She's in this room right over here. We've been waiting for a member of her family to arrive." She opened the file and flipped through it as they walked. "She lost a significant amount of blood, and her condition has been touch-and-go since she came out of Recovery. But she's a fighter. We have every reason to believe she'll be fine."
She brought him to his wife's door, then pushed it open. "She's resting comfortably right now. As long as she behaves tonight, we should be able to move her to a private room in the morning. Until then, we can't allow any other visitors."
He gave her a barely audible thanks, and before she blinked, he disappeared into the room. She closed the door behind him.
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Lassiter stood just inside the door, breathing unevenly.
Juliet-his Juliet-lay quiet on the bed, eyes closed, beautiful face so very pale, hooked to an IV and various other machines he couldn't begin to focus on.
He wasn't hesitating out of fear. He was hesitating because he knew he had to fight back the overwhelming urge to scoop her up in his arms and set off a hundred alarms in the process.
Just walk slowly, breathe deeply, and touch her hand.
You can control yourself. Come on, Lassiter.
He moved slowly. At the bed, he touched her forearm, and then clasped her cool hand, and because he couldn't stop himself, he bent to kiss her forehead. You will be all right. You have to be all right. "Juliet," he murmured. "Come on, honey."
The word felt right, albeit unfamiliar…but…yeah, it felt right.
She breathed, those lovely blue eyes closed against the world, her hand unmoving in his.
"Oh...sorry," he said as an afterthought, stroking her hair. "I guess I shouldn't call you that without... you know, your permission. But out there they think I'm your husband, and I hope you don't get mad for me saying that, but I know you didn't want me to use my gun on anyone here, and since there wasn't any chance in freaking hell that I was going to wait another minute to see you, I had to tell them we were married. I'll make it up to you. I'll buy your coffee for a month. I'd go get you some right now, but..." He stopped, squeezing her hand, his heart pounding again. "Just open your eyes, Juliet. Let me see your beautiful eyes."
She just breathed, but... did her hand twitch a little? Maybe? Almost imperceptibly?
"I don't blame Spencer for this, and I didn't punch him. I wanted to, but I didn't. Truth is, I knew Berman was a wild card and I shouldn't have let you go talk to him today, not without real backup. I'm sorry. It's my fault." He sighed. "Spencer should punch me."
There... her hand did twitch. It did.
"Sweetheart," he whispered. "I'm here. I know I'm probably not the one you want right now, but I'm here. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat. Please... please let me know you can hear me. Even if it's to tell me to get the hell out."
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That voice... Juliet struggled against the darkness, toward the light and the owner of the voice she adored so much. A hand slid into hers, and warm lips settled against her forehead. His tone was begging, pleading, but she couldn't quite understand his words. Concentrating, she moved her hand slightly in his. His voice became excited, and she struggled to move her fingers again.
"...Please...please let me know you can hear me. Even if it's to tell me to get the hell out."
Why would she ever want him to leave? She needed him like she needed air to breathe. Her eyelashes fluttered against her skin as pain started to manifest in her shoulder and her side, and a tiny whimper escaped her lips.
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Lassiter froze at the sound, his pulse racing, and he touched her face with his free hand, stroking her smooth cheek, soothing her distress. "I'm here," he said again. "You're okay. Everything's okay now." He touched her temple, her hair, and he bent to kiss her forehead one more time, because he just couldn't not do that.
Juliet's hand tightened around his, and she made another soft sound of…what was it? Distress? Pain? Should he call the nurse in? None of the machines were doing anything unusual.
"Am I upsetting you by being here? Do you want me to..." He forced it out, forced it to sound calm. "Do you want me to get Spencer in here instead?"
The pain intensified, but it was eclipsed by the fear of his departure. Slowly, ever so slowly, her stormy blue eyes opened. Her vision was blurry, but there was no mistaking the man beside her.
Carlton.
She blinked slowly, and his face came closer to hers. Just the act of breathing was exhausting, but she managed to run her tongue over her dry lips. "Carlton..."
He clutched her hand as tightly as she was suddenly clutching his. "Juliet... you probably shouldn't talk... but thank God you can. Thank God you're all right," he said fervently, touching her face again, unable to stop touching her after years of studiously not touching her at all.
"Carlton," she rasped again, her eyes searching him out, focusing with apparent effort.
"What is it, honey? Do you want the nurse? Or Spencer?" It would kill him, but he would do it for her. Hell, he'd leave town if she asked him to.
Damn, it felt like she was trying to break his hand now.
"Don't…you…dare…leave…"
The same nurse who had allowed Lassiter into Juliet's room suddenly bustled through the door after noticing a change in Juliet's heart rate. Seeing Juliet's eyes, she smiled brightly. "Well, look who decided to join us."
Juliet barely looked at her. Her focus was solely on Lassiter.
Approaching the bed, the nurse checked the machinery surrounding her patient. "How are you feeling, sweetheart? Any pain?"
Juliet almost rolled her eyes. "Yes..."
The nurse produced a syringe and grasped Juliet's IV. "This will take care of the pain and help you sleep." She injected the syringe into the tubing.
Almost immediately, Juliet felt the drugs work, and her grip fractionally relaxed on her partner's hand.
Seeing the grip Juliet had on her husband's hand, the nurse smiled. "Your husband has been in here with you."
She was surprised, but her expression gave nothing away.
Casting another smile at Lassiter, the nurse made a few notes on Juliet's chart before she left them alone again.
By the time the door closed, Juliet had almost completely relaxed, but there was amusement in her eyes. Why was the nurse calling Carlton her husband?
"Oooh, floaty," Juliet said, her speech slurring a little.
"Good drugs," he agreed, still stroking her hair.
"When did we get married?"
Lassiter felt himself flushing. "Sorry about that." He started to let go of her hand but she wouldn't release him. "I couldn't think of how else to get in here."
"Don't be sorry." Her eyes were half-closed, and she was smiling. "It's about time anyway."
"Come again?"
"Mmmmmmmm," she said with a long sigh. "Mrs. Lassiter. Juliet Lassiter. I guess I should keep O'Hara for the job, but..."
Damn, she was loopy already. "O'Hara," he started, intrigued but aware he should straighten her out.
"Juliet," she corrected. "A man should call his wife by her first name."
"You should sleep," he said firmly. Still she would not release his hand... but then again, he hadn't quit playing with her hair, either.
"Why did you marry me?"
The question seemed so straightforward. Her eyes were closed, and she was slipping into sleep, and he should let it go unanswered.
But she opened her eyes again and looked at him directly, searchingly. "Why?"
"You are so drugged," he said, and damn him, he kissed her forehead again. "I married you because I love you, of course. Now sleep, sweetheart. Sleep."
The smile which lit her face made her angelic; no other word for it. "Oh, good," she said, happy as she drifted away. "That's what I hoped you would say."
Lassiter felt helpless. He didn't know what he should hope for- that she'd remember this when she was sober, or that she'd forget it and never have a chance to break his heart.
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He stayed with her for the rest of the night, and the next morning, she was moved to a private room on another floor.
Once she was settled, Lassiter finally left and went home for a shower and a short nap.
When he returned, he was delighted to see that Juliet was awake and coherent. But when he saw Spencer sitting on the bed by Juliet's waist, he scowled.
Damn it...
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Shawn laughed at the face Juliet made. "Really, Jules! I'm serious." But a soft noise behind him made him turn his head, and he gulped. Lassie. Turning back to Juliet, he kissed her cheek. "I'm going to get a smoothie. Do you want one?"
"Actually, I'd love a shake."
"You got it." He got up and headed toward the door. But when he reached Lassiter, he extended a hand and pulled him toward the door. "You better treat her right," he growled, completely serious for the first time in a long time.
Lassiter stared at him.
"I'm serious, Lassie. Treat her like a princess, or I'll borrow her gun." He looked over his shoulder. "Chocolate, right, Jules?"
"Yes."
He gave Lassiter a pointed look, then left the room, leaving Lassiter and Juliet alone.
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He stared at the door, and then at Juliet. "Hey, partner."
Juliet smiled gently. "Hey, partner."
Going to the bed, but feeling totally awkward now that she was obviously... well... sane, he kept a safe distance back to stop himself from touching her the way he had yesterday. It didn't matter what Spencer had said, because he was usually full of crap. "You're feeling better."
"I am." She held out her hand. "I'm so happy to see you."
"You'd be happier if I'd brought a shake." He hesitated to take her hand until she wriggled her fingers at him, and then he gave in.
Clasping his hand firmly, she said, "Actually I wouldn't. I couldn't."
"You... I don't understand."
"Seeing you, Carlton," she said, so softly, "was all I needed to make me happy."
Yeah. Sure. "You're still on drugs."
Juliet laughed. "I am not. I mean, I am, and by the way I'm glad because it turns out being shot is no damned fun. But I'm as sober as I need to be to tell you I remember what you said to me yesterday."
He felt a combination of horror and hope. "Um. What do you remember?"
Her smile widened at his almost frightened expression. "I remember you kissing me and calling me sweetheart. You said that you married me because you love me." Her thumb began moving absently over the back of his hand. "Which was, by the way, incredibly sweet of you to lie to the nurse so I wouldn't be alone." It was like he knew without needing to be told that she hated being alone. Her side started to ache again, and she carefully turned her body toward him, applying just a little pressure to the injury. The pressure felt good, and she relaxed. "And I wasn't so out of it that I didn't mean what I said. I'm glad you were there, Carlton." Shawn would have tried to make her laugh, Gus would have cried, and anybody else would have been too afraid of Lassiter to come close to her.
Lassiter relaxed a little. She wasn't throwing him out, she wasn't mocking him for what he said. But she also seemed willing to slide past his declaration. Was that good? Or was that depressing?
"I had to be here," he said quietly. "You're my partner and my best friend."
Juliet studied his hand, holding it with both of hers now, and he wanted desperately to touch her face. "You're that for me, too, Carlton."
That was all. His heart twisted a little. He'd known it would be best if she let it all go, but he hadn't been prepared for the hurt. "I should go," he said. "Spencer will be back with your shake and you'd probably rather talk to him.""Not really." And with that, she reached out and gently ran her thumb along his strong jaw. Then she gently caught his chin in her fingers and pulled him forward, until their faces were only a few inches apart.
How could he think that she would prefer Shawn's company over his? Shawn was funny, but so was Carlton. And he was sensible, intelligent, understanding, empathetic, protective, loyal... The list went on and on.
Suddenly she realized he was staring at her, and she was still holding his chin. "Oh, what the hell...?" She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips firmly against his.
In all the settings he'd imagined kissing Juliet O'Hara, a hospital room wasn't one of them; nor had he ever imagined she'd be wearing a hospital gown and bandages.
He had, however, imagined correctly that it would be sweet and wonderful and sensuous. Sighing against her lips, and telling himself to pull back, he did the exact opposite, kissing her more deeply until one of the monitors started beeping a bit faster.
"Crap," he whispered, but Juliet was laughing, and when a nurse came in, he stood back, face a-flame, while Juliet assured her she was feeling fine and her increased heart-rate was due to her husband's attentiveness.
The nurse eyed him suspiciously-obviously thinking knock it off, big guy-and let them alone again.
"Come back here," Juliet said. "I want to whisper something in your ear."
He gave her a cautious look, but a simple batting of her eyelashes made him return to her side. With an amused (and slightly irritated) look, she grasped his hand and gently pulled him down onto the bed with her. Then, before he could even think to get up again, she pinned him against the pillow and kissed his cheek. Then she laid her head on his shoulder.
"You move, and I'll make sure you wind up in a bed next to mine," she murmured. Of course the severity of the threat was lessened when she yawned and cuddled-actually cuddled-into his side.
"It must be me who's shot and on drugs," he said, bemused.
She laughed lightly. "No. I hurt too much for it to be anyone else Berman took down."
"But O'Hara..."
"But Carlton," she mimicked. "You don't know what you mean to me, do you?"
"No. I mean, I don't know what I mean to you when you're not stoned."
"You mean the same to me as when I am stoned, and I'm not stoned." She looked up at him suddenly, a smile on her face. "Oh. I guess I haven't said it, have I?" She patted his chest. "Relax. I love you too."
It was that easy? Huh. "O'Hara..."
"Carlton," she assured him patiently. "When I get out of here, I'm going to ask you to marry me. Does that clear everything up?"
A subtle tremor went through him, and he drew her closer.
"We'll see about that."
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When Shawn came back to Juliet's room, he was surprised to see Lassie in bed with Juliet. She was tucked into his arms and seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Lassiter had a faraway look on his face as his fingers absently moved through Juliet's flaxen hair.
With a sigh, Shawn set Juliet's milkshake down. Then he left the room again.
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Lassiter had to vacate the bed when two frowning nurses-one of whom outsized him-came in, but only because he knew Juliet wouldn't want bloodshed in her room.
He spent his time in the hall trying to figure out all the ways this could go wrong. Assuming she didn't get home and realize she'd lost her mind and try to un-say what had been said, he was going to be married soon to the loveliest, kindest woman in the history of women, and he did mean soon. As in, as soon as she could walk down an aisle. As soon as he could get his head around the idea that she loved him.
When the frowning nurses let him back in, with an admonishment that he stay out of the bed, he stood at Juliet's side, smiling at her.
"I love your smile. You should do it more often."
"I will from now on," he promised. "I have reason now. What about you?"
"I've had a reason to smile every morning for the past six years."
The End!
A/N: Aww, protective Lassie! Who else is looking forward to next week's episode? I have a feeling it's going to be a big Lassie ep! But don't worry, Shules fans. I will be posting some new Shules stuff soon! Promise! Thanks for reading, and please review!