Psych: Christmas Mourning
Summary: The trial is over. Two of the three men hunting Angeline are dead. Lassie has big plans for their future. But something's gone terribly, terribly wrong. Sequel to Halloween Knights and Thanksgiving Daze.
AN: Chapter title from 'Never Gonna Be Alone' by Nickelback.
"From this moment on, if you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall... You're never gonna be alone, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone."
Chapter 1: Never Gonna Be Alone
Lucien was dead.
It wouldn't have been a big deal normally. He'd been shot, after all. But that wasn't what had killed him.
He'd died of pneumonia.
Sure, the gunshot complicated things. The blood loss alone…
Carlton sighed and rubbed shaky hands over his face, beyond exhausted.
The machine beeped and hissed; a constant reminder of where he was, as if the smell wasn't enough of a hint.
Angeline was flush with fever, her every breath a terrible quiet wheeze through the oxygen mask.
They'd never made it home. Or to Henry's. Whatever.
The bug had struck during the night, her fever shooting dangerously high. The piles of warming blankets were replaced by ice packs. He could almost admire the irony.
It had been two days. Two days and the fever still raged.
Two days and six hours. That was how long Lucien had lasted before his body shut down.
It was two days and two hours since Angeline's fever had started.
She was weak from exposure.
"You are not going to die," Carlton growled, standing and pacing the length of her bed- two steps one way, turn, two steps the other. Everything terrible, terrible two.
The two-year-old was fine. Karen was taking no chances; she'd had Iris on antibiotics from the moment he'd told her of Angeline's sudden illness.
Only two people were allowed in the room. Henry and himself. Everyone else was strictly forbidden. Henry was only allowed in for those few times he was forced to leave her side- twice.
The mask was an annoying necessity; one he hardly noticed after two days and two hours.
Two.
The two men that had attacked them were dead.
The two idiots were having no more luck than the department in tracking Daemon.
Two days, two hours, and twenty-two minutes.
The fever broke.
It was two hours, twelve minutes, and twenty seconds before she opened her eyes.
Her two dark eyes looked into his two blue ones.
The two of them smiled.
-000-
The trial was over. She'd done well.
Her voice, weak but calm, slowly, carefully dug her brother's grave.
Every detail described, every hurt catalogued, every name mentioned.
Her eyes were dry when she finished.
The jury's eyes were not.
Carlton took her hand and led her from the courtroom. There was no reason to wait for the sentencing.
He held her in the car as she broke down.
There were many things he could say. He could rant and rave. He could promise retribution. He could swear to keep her safe.
He didn't.
He just held her tightly and let her cry against his chest.
Love, after all, is an action.
And he was a man of action.
-000-
He felt odd, still staying at Henry's. They could have left, could have stayed at a hotel at the very least, but Spencer Senior had gone over his head. He'd spoken to Angeline in some brief time they'd been left alone and convinced her to stay, at least until she had her strength back.
Of course, Henry knew they were a package deal. Carlton hadn't even given a thought to going home by himself. Where she was, there he would stay.
Carlton had gone back to work. Three hundred days of vacation or not, paperwork waited for no man. Light duty was all he was cleared for, even though it had been over a month since he was shot.
In that way, he was thankful that Henry had interceded. Angeline was still weak, tiring with very little movement. Her breath wheezed lightly, keeping him awake at night, his heart in his throat. Henry kept an eye on her. Made sure she ate and rested and stayed warm.
Carlton chuckled under his breath, earning him an amused look from Juliet. Henry was a mother hen, and he'd practically adopted Angeline- and Carlton, to some extent. Shawn would have a hissy fit at the thought of having Lassiter for a brother and it sent a shiver down Lassiter's spine, nevertheless it was true.
Speaking of Shawn, his visits were regular. Almost every night now he came to dinner. Arguing was kept to a minimum for Angeline's sake, so most of the meal was eaten in silence. But it was a companionable silence.
Carlton's work hours had shifted. He no longer worked overtime, even if he did have paperwork piling up on his desk. Some days he even left early, but he didn't go home right away.
He'd spoken to Henry before he'd made this last leap. The man had some good advice despite being divorced himself.
He didn't have a lot of money, so he knew it would take time. But with the market the way it was, hopefully he could get something that wasn't completely run down.
There was one place he had been to twice. It was promising, though it was little more than an unfinished shell at this point. It would take work, that was for sure, but he could afford it.
Besides, with Henry's help, it wouldn't take half as long. Henry had offered or he never would have thought of asking the older man to help him, but the help was more than welcome. He knew when he was in over his head, and a house was not something he could tackle on his own. At least not while working too.
When the sale of his old house was finalized, which should be any day now, he'd have the down payment.
There was only one thing left to get.
"Hey Jules!" Shawn greeted, startling Lassiter from his thoughts.
"Hey Shawn, where's Gus?" O'Hara asked, smiling as the psychic perched on the edge of her desk.
"Apparently," Shawn sighed, "He's got real work to do today."
Juliet smiled and patted his hand comfortingly.
"Unfortunately, Shawn, so do I. I'm due in court in fifteen minutes."
Shawn groaned theatrically as Juliet stood and gathered her things.
"I'm so bored! Is there no one to amuse me?"
Juliet just shook her head and shrugged.
"Sorry, Shawn, you'll have to amuse yourself, I guess."
She left as he pouted, head on his fist like 'The Thinker'.
Carlton returned to his paperwork, expecting the psychic to move on now that O'Hara had left.
After a long silence, Carlton felt like someone was watching him. He looked up to find Spencer staring at him thoughtfully.
"What?" Carlton asked defensively.
Spencer slid off of O'Hara's desk and looked around before approaching.
"Lassie, can I give you some advice?" Spencer asked, frowning.
Lassiter stiffened, jaw clenching.
"What kind of advice?" he growled. Spencer hadn't been as annoying as usual since Halloween, and had actually been somewhat helpful at times. Still, listening to him went against the grain.
Shawn smiled, apparently taking the question as a go ahead.
"Remember the rule: Treat a woman like a person, then a princess, then a Greek goddess, then a person again," he said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lassiter asked with a glare.
Spencer slid the corner of the jewelry booklet out from under the paperwork that had concealed it. He looked up at Lassiter seriously and then tucked the booklet back into hiding.
"It means keep it simple. She doesn't want anything flashy, just thoughtful. A reminder." Shawn said, leaning forward, his palms braced against the edge of the desk, "And one last thing…"
"What?" Lassiter asked, uncomfortable with serious Shawn.
"Don't hurt her. Do it right or don't do it at all. She's been through enough."
Lassiter looked up at him in surprise. He was almost intimidating.
"I know," Carlton said quietly.
Shawn nodded and sprung away, smile reappearing as he bounced out of the station.