A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long, again. It's actually been finished for about a week, but I was distracted and then when I tried to post it there were (once again) technical glitches. Oh well. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and those who put me on their favorites/alerts! Please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. After this there is just an epilogue, which is half-written. And if my three hour poetry class doesn't absolutely kill me tonight, the epilogue might get finished (but don't hold your breath for that). Enjoy and leave a review to let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Four chapters in and its still not mine. I wonder what that means?

Part Four

In the absolute antithesis of color, Shawn is afraid that he'll find himself back in the same place he was before, the place with no definition and no feeling. More than that he is afraid—absolutely terrified—that the blinding light will fade and he'll find himself alone.

More than anything, he doesn't want to be alone.

The light fades and he is in a familiar place, the all white room he was in before. But he isn't alone. Not this time, and even as his heart thuds faster with renewed fear, a smile breaks over his face. Carlton stands beside him, blinking furiously, his eyes wide as he takes in their surroundings.

"You okay?" Shawn whispers. Carlton doesn't make any verbal reply, just reaches out and takes Shawn's hand, holding tight. Shawn holds on just as tightly, moving closer to the taller man, as though taking shelter in his presence.

"Where are we?" Carlton says after a long moment, when he has finally regained his wits enough to formulate a thought.

"They called it Purgatory." Shawn says. "This is where I showed up. The floor dropped right out from beneath me and they told me to say goodbye. Next thing I knew I was floating."

"You're not saying goodbye." Carlton says, in a deep, gravely, absolutely confident voice that sends butterflies fluttering in Shawn's stomach. Helpless, the only thing he can do is grip Carlton's hand even tighter.

"That is to be determined." The same voice from before says; both men jump and turn towards the white figure. Carlton's lips part and he gasps; Shawn clamps his lips tightly together and narrows his eyes.

"What do you mean 'to be determined'?" Carlton asks.

The figure moves forward. "Mr. Spencer's fate was determined, but you are an unforeseen guest, Mr. Lassiter. Your presence changes things."

"Shawn isn't dying." Carlton says, facing the figure down, meeting those pale, pale blue eyes with steadfast conviction.

The figure holds the gaze, his expression mild. "Perhaps."

"Who are you?" There is a bite of anger to Carlton's voice, the kind of sharpness that always pulls the answers out of suspects in interrogations.

"No one of consequence."

Carlton's eyes narrow. "Shawn isn't dying."

"That decision is not up to me." The figure says. "Nor is it up to you."

"It should be!" Shawn yells, speaking up for the first time. He had sat back, letting them talk, but irritation fills him, irritation and desperation, a hopeless kind of fear and, for the first time, anger. "It is my life." He says, in a voice much softer but also much stronger. "It is my life and I should be able to decide what happens to it. I'm not ready to die." He interlaces his fingers with Carlton's and meets the figure's eyes. "I'm not dying."

"And I'm not leaving without him." Carlton says. The figure looks between the two of them, expression still perfectly blank and unreadable.

"Eurydice and Orpheus." He says after a moment, in a tone of blandness. "We shall see if you end up better." Without another word he is gone, disappearing like a cloud of smoke, simply fading out of existence.

Shawn blinks. "Am I supposed to be Eurydice? Did I just get called the girl in this relationship?"

For the first time Carlton smiles. "Clearly you are the girl in this relationship."

Shawn glares, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "Am not." There is a short pause as he looks away. "Um…is this a relationship? Assuming I don't die…."

Carlton pulls him around, facing him, his face inches away. "Spencer, you kissed me in front of Chief Vick and Juliet. Confessed that you love me. Ran away and got yourself killed. Came back as a ghost. Dragged me to whatever the hell this place is." He raises his eyebrows. "You've put me through too much. This is a relationship, whether you like it or not. You don't have choice."

Shawn breaks out into a wide grin that cannot be contained; his eyes light up from within and Carlton feels himself smiling back. "Just checking." Shawn says, before he throws his arms around the taller man and smashes their lips together. Carlton wraps his arms around the younger man's waist and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss.

"Ahem." The voice says from behind them and they break apart, turning, Carlton's cheeks flushing slightly, Shawn's eyes narrowing in what can only be irritation. The figure is there again, arms folded. "It's time." He says.

A door appears on the white wall behind him and the figure pushes it open, beckoning them. They exchanged looks before following together, perfectly in step.

They walk through complete, solid darkness and step into a pool of golden light. Everything around them is completely dark; there is the sense that they are the center of the room, and that anyone in the darkness can see them without being seen.

"Shawn Spencer and Carlton Lassiter." A voice says, loud and booming, like thunder, powerful enough to send tremors through them. They reach out to each other, reaching out for some sense of familiarity and comfort, and they move closer, shoulders brushing. "Your fate has been decided."

"And?" Shawn says, raising his voice. He fights to keep the tremor out of his voice, summoning the anger that lies beneath the thick layer of fear. "What is it?"

"You, Shawn Spencer, were supposed to die. This fate was determined prior to the event; you received the warnings and followed the path that led to your death."

"I didn't exactly have much of a choice."

"You did. Had you ignored the warnings and done nothing the consequences would have been much higher. You would have lived. Carlton Lassiter would have not. He, and many other people, would have died."

"Told you I had to." Shawn whispers to Carlton, feeling like a child who has won some kind of small victory against their parent.

Carlton shoots him a vicious glare and he clamps his mouth shut.

"You made your decision, followed the warnings, and sacrificed yourself. You are meant to die."

"If he was meant to die," Carlton says, his voice loud and strong and angry, "why was he sent back? His heart restarted and you sent him as a ghost."

"His heart was restarted because of human efforts. He was meant to die and stay dead. He was sent as a ghost as a gift to him, to allow him to say goodbye. It is a courtesy offered to those who sacrifice themselves for the good of others."

"If he dies," Carlton says, and his voice is that of a man offering an ultimatum, "I'm not going back to my body. I refuse."

"You present a problem. It is not your time to die, Carlton Lassiter, and ultimately your fate is not your choice." He sets his jaw, a muscle twitching in his neck.

"Then why did I leave my body? Why am I here?"

The voice seems to heave a great sigh. "The strength of your connection with Mr. Spencer was…unanticipated."

"I don't know what that means." Carlton says. "And I don't really care."

"You said that a decision had been made." Shawn says, speaking up. "What is it? Stop jerking us around and just tell us, so that we can get on with our lives…or my death."

"You were meant to die. However, your continued attachment to life and particularly to Mr. Lassiter connects you still to your body. It is decided that you will return to your body. You aren't going to die today."

All the breath rushes out of Shawn's lungs and he shrieks his joy, jumping on Carlton. The taller man bears his weight, smiling.

"Can I expect any more of that precognition stuff?" He asks, after he has both feet on the ground again.

"Once in a while, yes. If you are to live, Mr. Spencer, you are going to work."

Shawn arches his eyebrows as Carlton. "See! I really am psychic!"

Carlton shakes his head, unable to summon any verbal abilities and simply smiling. Finally he looks out into the darkness. "Will we remember this?"

The darkness starts to lessen, replaced by that blinding white light again. "It is better that these memories…fade. This will seem a dream to you."

Carlton wraps his arms around Shawn and the shorter man rests his head on his chest, sighing. They close their eyes as the light wraps around them.

"Hold onto each other." The voice says, and there is the sense that it is meant in a deeper way that literally.

"Return."


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