A/N: Classes are starting tomorrow morning, so my chapter updates might go down to one a day since my writing binge is going to be cut short. Anyhoo, as always, please read, review, and enjoy!

P.S. - Shout-out to the awesome GracefulWolvesInTheNight for the constant encouragement and support! *Hugs*

Disclaimer: Honest, I own nothing, though the gremlin and I dearly love Psych and a certain blue eyed detective with an awesome growly, sexy voice. ;)


"You've got to be kidding me," Lassiter muttered as he drove, Felicity steadily massaging her hand.

"It was a warning, Lassie, that's all. An exceptionally effective warning," she admitted, rubbing her fingers to increase the circulation.

"Yeah, well, if I hadn't seen it-"

"I know, I'm not sure I'd have believed it if I hadn't felt it," Felicity replied bitterly.

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the ER?"

With a sigh, she put her hand in her lap, ignoring the painful tingling running through her veins and gave him a mildly irritated look.

"Would anything I said convince you that I didn't? Please, Lassie, take my word for it."

They were quiet for a while and it gave her time to think. She was telling the truth, the 'frostbite' had been a warning, but a warning of what was the question. Felicity doubted it was because she was getting too close to the truth. He wanted her to find the truth, because it would put her squarely where he wanted her. It was frustrating that she didn't have a clue where that was either. Lassiter was right, though; this kind of injury just didn't happen, which led her to a conclusion that she knew he wasn't going to want to hear. For the moment, she kept her considerations to herself.

Trees hung over the road like a living roof, sunlight peeping through in rare places through the leaves. The highway wound up a steep incline as Lassiter expertly navigated the tight turns.

"If this lead pans out, how are you going to give a report to the Chief?" she asked finally, worrying at the fresh wound on her lip.

"I follow hunches once in a while," he replied and she tilted her head away from him with a skeptical glance.

"Yeah, probably every time the global mouse population makes a space migration to get cheese from the moon."

"Very funny."

"I thought it was hysterical myself," she waited a moment before adding, "Well?"

"I'll think of something alright? This has to actually lead somewhere."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He slowed down as they reached the top of the hill, pulling off the road and onto the small gravel space just in front of an iron gate. Felicity looked out the window with a sinking feeling.

They were back at that same damned church.

She turned her head back to look over at Lassiter, who was staring out the windshield, his jaw clenched. He shoved the gearshift into park and turned off the ignition.

"I don't like it, Sawyer."

"Me neither," she murmured, her eyes drawn back to the church, her grip on the door handle tightening, "I'd get out with your gun drawn if I were you."

With that, she opened the door and stepped out. As soon as the sole of her sneaker touched ground with a crunch, she froze. Her gaze was locked on the treeline at the back of the graveyard. A dark shape was moving through the foliage, darting between the trees. Fear was a cold weight in the pit of her stomach. When she blinked, however, it was gone.

"What is it?" Lassiter's voice came from right beside her, nearly making her jump.

She turned to look at him, seeing his gaze roving over the area where she'd been staring. Shaking her head, she closed the door firmly behind her.

"Nothing. C'mon."

She started off on the brick walk towards the church, ignoring the chill that started at the base of her spine. Lassiter's long legs had him beside her before she'd gotten a third of the way. Letting him take the lead, she crossed her arms as goosebumps erupted across her body. Her hands slowly rubbed up her arms when they neared the doors, Lassiter cocking his gun. He looked down at her as she stopped near him, the top of her head barely reaching past his shoulder.

"You packin'?"

She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out her Tomcat .32, checking the mag before closing it with a snap. The metal was comforting against her palms as she looked up at the detective with a small smile.

"You told me to bring my guns, remember?"

That unfamiliar look flashed through his eyes again, but it was so quick she barely had time to register that it'd been there at all. Then he was nodding at her, his lips set in a thin line.

"Alright. You've seen me do this with O'Hara. Stay behind me, watch my back. Sawyer," the way he said her name made her ears perk up and she met her gaze steadily, "I'm trusting you here."

"Duly noted," she replied evenly.

"On the count of three. One, two, three!"

He moved, grabbing the door and throwing it open before darting into the gloom, Felicity on his heels. He aimed right while she covered left. It was difficult to see after being in the bright sunlight, but shapes appeared in the dimness. Thankfully, it was nothing but pews, candelabras, and dust. Holstering his weapons, Lassiter straightened from his braced position and she followed suit, clicking on the safety and stowing her pistol back in its hiding place in her bag.

She looked around warily, her hands held out from her as she moved towards the left side of the church. Brushing her hand against the wall, she caught flashes of a red shirt, frightened brown eyes, and that damnable cold. She stopped and turned back towards Lassiter, who was watching her and the door.

"He brought Mason here. Recently, because nothing in the connection was here the other day."

"So where's the boy now?"

Felicity was silent, unease and uncertainty keeping her quiet. She could sense that the child wasn't here now and neither, thankfully, was his body. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been led back here...

Her foot scraped against something hollow and she looked down, her blood losing all semblance of warmth. She knelt down, running her fingers against black plastic, sensing an old joy mingling with a recent, powerful jolt of terror.

"Come here," she called out, listening as his footsteps echoed dully in the once sacred chapel.

He tugged at his slacks before he crouched next to her, his brows drawing together as he seemed to puzzle over the object beneath her hand.

"What's a kid's bike wheel doing...oh, Christ," he scrubbed a hand over his face before blue eyes raised to stare into somber grey ones, "The boy disappeared riding his trike up the street. Are you trying to tell me what I think you are?"

Felicity shook her head helplessly.

"I don't know. The boy was terrified, and so unbelievably cold, but I can't figure out if he's-"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. Hanging her head, Felicity put her hands on her knees and pushed herself up, Lassiter mirroring the action. He braced his hands on his hips as he looked around for a minute before running a hand through his hair.

"So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know...yet," she said quietly, continuing towards the far left side of the building.

The cold was stronger here, making her wonder if he'd been here since they were. The thought made her more apprehensive. It was a dark alcove, a pointed archway curving over it, possibly where a stature or holy icon had been placed. She looked at the floor, noticing that the layers of dirt and dust was less thick. Willing to try something different, she gestured to Lassiter without turning around. He moved to stand beside her and she grabbed his hand.

"Hold onto me for a minute," she directed him, ignoring his bristling at her command by putting her hand against the wall, praying that the barriers she kept in place would hold.

The cold was so intense that she hissed in a breath between clenched teeth, her exhale actually visible to the naked eye. Fear, panic, and a strange sense of loss rushed through her, leaving her feeling off balance, the emotions disappearing as quickly as they'd manifested. Her hand unconsciously squeezed Lassiter's as she was bombarded with images, many of them spinning past her mind's eye so fast that she couldn't make any sense of them.

Then the overpowering scent of blood was filling her nose, making her gag. Her vision was clouded with crimson, a darker, almost black liquid dripping over the red as an unearthly voice spoke in her ear, a voice that had begun to haunt her nightmares, would probably always haunt them.

So you're starting to understand, the whisper slithered through her mind, leaving her wondering if she actually heard it or if it was a talon raking across her consciousness from the past, But have you acted fast enough?

The question was an acrid stinging in her brain, making her almost cry out as it seared through every mental shield she had, thrusting into the very core of her being.

Flashes of a boy, torn to pieces as she dashed to reach him started to overwhelm her; pictures playing over and over of black hands choking Mac as she watched. The funeral parlor where she'd bid her grandfather goodbye rushed towards her, the dark blue coffin lid tossed open and clawed hands reached for her as dead grey eyes stared at her from a face that was more demon than human. Lassiter staring at her with accusing eyes as he held the glock to his head and pulled the trigger.

Warmth, a welcome, blessed warmth suddenly radiated from her hand, traveling up her arm and bringing her back from the brink, the visions evaporating like smoke. She sagged, darkness flitting at the edges of her sight. Exhausted by the hellish connection, her head fell weakly forward as she was turned in a strong pair of arms, her forehead bumping painlessly into something solid. She could still smell the blood, taste the copper like it coated her tongue.

"Sawyer? Sawyer? C'mon, don't you lose it on me now," a voice was talking in her ear, the low growling quality reaching past the fog of horror.

"L-Lassie," she gasped out, realizing at that moment that her cheek was wet, and was also dampening his shirt as he held her against his chest as her hands clutched at the back of his jacket so tightly it hurt.

"I'm here, Flick, I'm here, just stay with me, alright?"

She could feel concern coming from him as she breathed in the scent of cinnamon, the warmth of his body and his emotions chasing away the infernal cobwebs that still clung to her. His fingers rubbed at her back in soothing circles, an automatic motion that she sensed was his first instinct. His touch let her know that he wanted to first and foremost comfort her, and also to find out what the hell had scared her witless. He was aware of her body against him, on some level enjoying feeling her molded to him, but also confused and disquieted as to what had caused such a bad reaction in her. All of it combined in a wave of reassurance that he was solid and real and most definitely not going anywhere. It grounded her.

Stifling a sob, she reluctantly lifted her head and eased herself back to look up at him.

"I'm alright...I'm alright...it was just-" He shook his head at her and she stopped, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. She gave him a half smile, although it was a little watery, "Can we-can we get the hell out of this place? I, uh, could really use a shot."

"You and me both," he muttered, glancing around before settling on her eyes searchingly, "Can you keep it together long enough to at least get to the car?"

She scoffed at him, stepping fully back, though his hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before letting go.

"Give me a little credit," she joked half-heartedly, retreating into bravado as they started towards the door.

The sunlight felt so good on her face Felicity almost started to cry again, this time in relief. She fought to keep her gait as relaxed as possible as they walked to the car.

As they she sat down in the passenger's seat and Lassiter put the car in drive, she looked once more towards the trees, unable to shake the feeling that something was looking back.


"Sawyer, for the absolute last time, you have got to let me take you to the station."

They were parked in the lot of a tiny strip mall, a bag of apples and two cups of coffee between them. As soon as the church was out of sight, she'd asked him to take her to the closest place that sold the fruit he could find. She'd stopped him, however, emphatic that he only buy green apples; she didn't think she was going to be able to eat any red ones for a while.

"Lassie, I can't. If we go to the station, the Chief is going to know that I helped you investigate a lead, putting us both in hot water."

"It's unethical to just sit on information," he argued picking up an apple and taking a bite.

"And what solid information do we have? I mean, the fact that you believe me lends what I saw credibility, but the connection between the Thompsons' murders and Mason's abduction are circumstantial at best and flimsy at worst."

He didn't reply at first, shaking his head lightly as his fingers tapped against the steering wheel.

"Alright, alright, you've got a point, but no one can say anything if we happen to link one case to another, especially one assumed to be not even remotely connected to the Thompson murders. And I didn't say I believed you."

She rolled her eyes at his metaphorical stubborn heel digging, but nodded anyway, chewing on the tart flesh of the apple thoughtfully, the cool flavor a balm.

"I'll concede to that. But..." she debated with herself, unsure if she wanted to admit just how much today had rattled her.

If she hadn't been with Lassiter the entire time, seen how he'd reacted with her own eyes, she'd have been certain he'd have mocked her for nearly losing it at the church. As it was, she felt like she could probably honest enough that she really, really did not want to go anywhere near the precinct until she had a better handle on herself. She glanced over at him as he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

Felicity swallowed, conflicting emotions precariously balanced.

He'd been there right there, his hand grasping hers as she dove head first into stuff nightmares were woven from. He'd made her feel safe, chasing away the fear that'd threatened to consume her in a place so dark she couldn't have fathomed the exit. On the other hand, he was the first one to call her on the chink that had shown in her armor. What she'd felt through their connection though...it was best not to go there. That direction was littered with more than one pitfall.

Felicity's thoughts turned down a different path. She hadn't told him anything about what she'd seen, other than to tell him that she wasn't certain what it all meant.

Letting out a heavy breath, she shifted her gaze to the windshield, watching traffic.

"Fine," she said quietly.

When he didn't respond, she looked back at him, wishing he'd take off the sunglasses so she could get some idea about what he was thinking. Lassiter must have felt her gaze, because he turned to regard her, taking another bite out of his apple. He gestured towards her with it.

"I can see why you like these."

She chuckled, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

"They're good, aren't they?"

He made a quiet sound of agreement, his lips curving into a wry smirk.

"Kinda remind me of you."

She snorted.

"Considering that I'm nearly always eating one, I'm not surprised."

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of being tart, kinda tough, never sure when you've made it to the center till you're teeth crack."

She shrugged, the corners of her lips twitching.

"Better than being a peach."

He gave her a questioning look before his smirk turned into a smile.

"I'm a peach, huh?"

"Oh, no, you most definitely resemble an orange more than a peach. I was just saying that I like being an apple better."

Now Lassiter just looked offended.

"An orange, really?"

She smiled for the first time since they'd left the church, a wickedly knowing smile that could only be worn when you knew you had the pocket aces.

"Oh, yes. Peel away the outer skin and you find something sweet enough to warrant the work, with just enough bite to make your lips tingle."

The look on his face was priceless, an expression somewhere between amused, flattered, and horrified. The pink tinge to his ears was just the icing.