And We Will Never Be Whole Again
Disclaimer: Um… supposedly I don't own Psych or any of the characters in it. Not yet, at least, [insert evil laugh].
Summary: This, this is it. The beginning and end of everything. She has her arms wrapped around both of them. She can feel the tremors running through Shawn and Carlton's rubbing her back in slow circles.
And Juliet thinks she finally, finally, understands what the word bittersweet means.
Story Notes: I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to you. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!
Anyway, hope you like it.
Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!
Also, PLEASE don't hate me about Marlowe; I wrote the majority of this before she was really a character and I am too lazy to try to add or change anything now that's she in the show and awesome. Sorry!
I know we will both die in time. I still can't think of a way I'd like to see you go, but I can think of this:
We build a tree house, way out in the middle of the woods. Every morning, we eat the nutrition bars we stole from the grocery store after no one owned the grocery store. You teach me yoga, we both lift weights, because being agile and strong are important now. One morning we decide, if we're to fight off the zombie apocalypse, we should probably know how to fire a gun.
-KEVIN DEVANEY
Chapter Four: I Found Family in Your Eyes When I Had Nothing
After they each take a shower, change clothes, and eat a meal of the assortment of perishable food Juliet took the time to grab, Lassiter falls asleep. Juliet and Shawn decide to take turns guarding the door and sleeping.
Tomorrow, they will make plans and worry but tonight, tonight they mourn.
Lassiter wakes up with a sudden lurch, the searing, ripping pain follows immediately, freezing him up with a choking gasp.
Spencer is beside him, in a moment, hands fluttering, murmuring things Carlton can't decipher through the dizzying pain. He's eased back onto the cold ground, gentle and slow.
"You can't move fast like that, ok, ok, ok?" Shawn whispers, reaching for the hem of Lassiter's shirt, "I just need to make sure you didn't pull any of them."
Lassiter does his best to grit out something that's supposed to sound like "Go ahead."
Shawn scrutinizes the garish black stitching carefully before fixing his shirt. His fingers hover just above the wound, tremoring. "Looks ok. They're all still there and it looks clean, not infected. It's probably just the loss of adrenaline and shock that's making it worse."
He wants to say that he still has plenty of adrenaline, nerves humming with it, and that he's definitely still in shock.
"Blood loss too. Hold on," Shawn says, stepping away.
He's back in a second holding out a couple slices of bread from last night and a candy bar.
"Carbs and sugar. When you eat that, we have Ibuprofen too."
Shawn sits down beside him, silent and that is too, too wrong. Carlton wishes he would say something stupid, fidget and flail maybe, or call him Lassie.
He's done with the chocolate and one of the bread slices when Spencer finally speaks.
"Can I use your phone?" He sounds hesitant, like he really thinks Carlton will say no. "It's just that neither Juliet or I have ours and I need to try my dad and mom again." He's gritting his teeth now and won't look at Lassiter.
"Yeah, of course," he breathes, "It's in my pants pocket over there."
A soft thanks and he's gone. Carlton wonders if he should call someone, thinks there should be someone. His parents have both been dead for a couple years now. Victoria and he haven't spoken in nearly six years and hated each other for the two before that. He doubts the number he has for her is even right. Marlowe, of course, but the prison was overrun from the inside out, all of them trapped in that small space. Plus, she doesn't have a phone or a number he could even call but if she did survive and if she gets a phone, she has his number. But that's too many ifs for him.
He has never been a man to hold onto hope.
The truth, he realizes, is the first people he would have called are with him right now, Juliet, Shawn, Gus. He briefly debates when it was they came to mean so much to him, when they wormed their way into his life, his heart.
It's quickly overwhelmed by the wave of gratitude, of relief, of momentary peace because except for Gus, they are here safe and alive with him.
Lassiter thinks that he will have to step up to the plate Gus left him, protect and cheer up these two precious people. He wonders if Shawn has already tried calling Gus' family, his siblings and parents. Who is still left in this new, awful, awful world?
Especially when he can hear the sound of an automated voice telling Spencer that the number he has dialed has been disconnected and then watching as the call to his mother just rings and rings and rings. He doesn't leave a voicemail, features crumbled.
He hands the phone back without a word.
Carlton is guiltily relieved when Juliet chooses that moment to wake up and wrap her arms around Shawn. They stay still like that, tangled with each other for a long moment. Lassiter focuses on his piece of bread.
"How are your stitches?" Juliet asks him, some kind of pathetic attempt at a smile on her face.
"Can't complain."
"They're all alright. I checked. Gave him some food and the ibuprofen, too," Shawn steps in for him when Juliet glares at his answer.
Juliet frowns even as she says, "Ok."
Turning back to Shawn, she tries, "You should try to sleep again. You've been awake for over 48 hours now."
"Can't," Shawn whispers, and Lassiter thinks he wasn't supposed to hear that. They stare at each other, like they're actually holding a silent conversation.
"Fine. If we're all up then, we can work on a plan."
"We need to work quickly before other people start venturing out of wherever they're hunkered down. The first places to be hit will be the stores and the precinct for the guns and we have to have cleaned both out first."
"Right. We have to take Lassiter's injury into account though."
"He'll stay up here while we pack the car with as much as we can fit. I still don't hear anyone else in here. The car is already pretty much against the front door and we have each other's backs. Lassiter is still Lassiter. Stitches or not, he can still shoot anyone who tries to get in here," Shawn explains, glancing at Lassiter for confirmation.
"You've got it all planned out already, don't you?" Lassiter says. It doesn't sound hostile, like it would've only a couple of days ago.
Shawn nods slowly, brows furrowed, like he understands that there's more to that question than what was said. Lassiter doesn't think he would be able to explain if Shawn asks; he just has the sudden feeling that he's figured something out about Spencer that he should known a long time ago.
Instead he says, "You should have an extra person out there with you. I can have your backs."
He watches as Juliet and Shawn share a too quick glance before Juliet speaks up, "It'd be better if you stay here while we pack. The faster you heal, the safer we all are."
This time he nods, "Got it."
He decides it's best not to tell them, admit to them, that he fears they will leave him here. Him, weak, injured, vulnerable, handicapped, a liability. It's natural selection, after all, right?
He has never been a man to hold onto hope or trust.