Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T+

Spoilers: Intense, and possible through series finale. Definitely contains spoilers for "The Rear View Mirror."

Chapter Twenty-Six: Three to a Seat

Juliet created an elven female mage character, named her Juliet, and played Dragon Age for several hours, enjoying herself immensely despite the fact she was sitting next to a talking strategy guide in the form of her partner, who let her in on all the secrets of the game he knew of as she went along. He confessed to having purchased the official strategy guide, not having time to delve so deeply into a game on his own, and offered it for her use, but she preferred sitting and arguing with him about what to do and when to do it. Finally, after sunup but before the others were awake, he switched the TV back to the DVD/VCR player's input and they watched a VHS tape of Victor Borge in concert. Juliet enjoyed the music as much as the masterful musician's antics.

Iris got up about halfway through the tape and padded into the living room in her nightgown. "What are you watching?" she asked.

"A funny comedian," Juliet said. "He plays the piano and falls off the bench, then opens it up and pulls out a seatbelt."

Iris squatted down in front of the TV and watched the program critically for a few minutes. Then, very suddenly, she asked, "Is this guy dead? He's old, and the people in the audience are all dressed out of style for today."

Lassiter sighed, smiling. "Yes, Iris. I'm afraid Victor Borge has shuffled off this mortal coil. Good perception on the audience, by the way. Maybe you'll be a detective."

"How can you stand to watch dead people? Doesn't it make you sad?"

"Death is just a part of life, Iris. How many people are there alive in the world today?"

"About nine billion, I think," Iris said.

"Well, that number doesn't make a dent in the number of people who are dead in the world today. It's all history, where we come from. Victor Borge is part of the history of entertainment. He may be dead, but he's still funny."

Iris stood up, turned around, stomped flat-footed the few steps to the loveseat, turned around and plopped herself into the narrow space between Lassiter and Juliet. "All right, I'll give him a try. At least it's not black and white," she said, folding her hands into her armpits.

On the screen, Borge introduced fellow pianist "Sahan Arzruni," and together they began to play Liszt's second Hungarian rhapsody, fighting for position over the piano keyboard. Iris giggled when Borge pulled the piano bench out from under Arzruni, and continued to giggle as they raced each other from one end of the keyboard to the other.

"They're acting like idiots, but they're still making beautiful music," Iris said wonderingly.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Lassiter said. "Most people act like idiots with no redeeming quality whatsoever."

"Thinking about Shawn and Gus?" Juliet asked.

"I spoke no names. If that's what your brain crops up with, that's not my fault," he said.

Juliet realized that she was not ready to think about Shawn just now, and shoved those thoughts aside with some little difficulty. Soon enough she'd have to make a big decision with regards to Shawn. Let this be a pleasant, Shawn-free morning.

Victor Borge finished up his concert with a rendition of his phonetic punctuation, which Iris enjoyed, and after rewinding the tape, Lassiter asked Iris if she wanted to see something really funny - despite the fact that it featured a dead person.

"Okay," she said, with a mild eye roll. Lassiter swapped out the tape for a recording of Red Skelton live at the Royal Albert Hall in London. Soon enough she was laughing her head off at the antics of "America's clown prince." The occasion the concert celebrated was the comedian's eightieth birthday, not that he seemed significantly hindered by his age as he cavorted through pantomimes and skits with the vigor of a much younger man.

"You miss out on a lot of good things when you give a pass to anything that goes back a ways," Lassiter said. "Most of Red Skelton's stuff was filmed in black and white, and there's a slew of other funny comics who never made it to Technicolor. Jack Benny, Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, The Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers…you should give 'em a try, Iris. You'll never know what you like or don't like if you don't give things a try."

"Oh…maybe," she said, grudgingly. "I might like the comedians, but I'll never like black and white."

"I used to think that, Iris," Juliet said, "and then I started watching those old-time comics and suddenly it dawned on me, I didn't care that they were in black and white. It just didn't matter anymore."

"Yeah, maybe," Iris said, still grudgingly.

"Some people just look better in black and white," Lassiter said. "I've always thought that I would."

"You were made for black and white, Carlton, but I think you'd look kind of eerie, because your eyes would show up as almost colorless," Juliet said.

"No they wouldn't," he said. "They'd just be…very…light…gray."

"That might be kinda creepy," Iris said. "But I kind of like the idea anyway."

The concert ended with Skelton singing his farewell song: "The time has come to say good night. My, how time does fly. We've had a laugh, perhaps a tear, and now we say goodbye. I really hate to say good night, for times like these are few. I wish you love and happiness in everything you do. The time has come to say good night, and I hope I've made a friend. So I'll say may God bless, until we meet again."

Lassiter looked down at the little girl seated next to him and realized she was crying.

"Iris, what's wrong?" he asked.

"We won't meet again," she said. "He's dead."

He gave her a gentle hug. "Iris. He led a long and pretty healthy life. He had sorrows, and he had joys, just like all of us, and in the end, even though I think he probably loved living, I really doubt he was very sorry to die. When you get older, death isn't so scary anymore. The older you get, the less you fear it, until it even starts to look…kind of friendly. Peaceful. It's only natural to feel sad that someone is gone from this world, but you've got to learn to find some comfort in it, too. I don't know what you believe, and I can't honestly say that I completely know what I believe, but one thing I'm pretty sure of is that whatever comes after life ends, there's no more pain and no more sorrow."

She sniffled. "Yeah."

He nudged her gently with his elbow. "And besides, it's not like he was coming over for dinner later, is it?"

Iris chuckled weakly.

"Yes, he's gone," Lassiter said, "but today he made a little girl laugh who wasn't even born yet when he passed away. I think he would agree with me that that makes him just a little bit immortal."

Iris seemed mollified as she snuggled deeper into a mutual hug with Lassiter, and Juliet watched and couldn't help but think that Lassiter would really make a wonderful father. He would be warm, unexpectedly wise, loving, and above all else, protective. What a shame he had no children of his own. There were plenty of children growing up in circumstances not so different from his own that would give anything for a father like him.

"Well, I think it's just about breakfast time, don't you?" Lassiter said. "Why don't you go get showered and dressed, Iris. What would you like for breakfast? I can make omelets."

"That sounds good. Cheese?" she asked.

"If that's what you want. O'Hara, how about you?"

"A cheese omelet sounds good to me," she said.

Iris got up and padded back into the bedroom, emerging moments later with her arms full of folded clothes, her pink sneakers on top of the pile. She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind herself, and in a few moments they heard the shower turn on. "You can get your shower next," Lassiter said to Juliet. "And unless Lincoln rolls out of bed before that concludes I'll go after you. He probably won't, though. Sundays he doesn't open the surf shop, so he tends to sleep in."

"Seems like he'd miss out on a lot of weekend revenue," Juliet said.

"I know. I think it's a little holdover from those good old Catholic school boy days. He may find out later on that he needs to be open on Sundays to make a real go of it, but apparently for now he's doing all right. Well enough to hire somebody to run the place for him while he teaches surfing, anyway, which seems pretty damned good to me."

His cell phone rang. The Cops theme. "Chief," he said, answering it.

"Good morning, Carlton. I hope I'm not disturbing you," Vick said.

"Of course not. We've been up watching Red Skelton. Iris is just getting her shower right now, and then I'm going to make omelets."

"You got Iris to watch Red Skelton?" She sounded amazed.

"She liked it. Cried a little at the end, when he sang his goodbye song, but I think she's okay."

"How has she been?"

"Like a little angel."

"She's given you no trouble at all?"

"None whatsoever. And I think O'Hara would say the same if I asked her," he said, giving the lady in question a raised eyebrow look. "We've been having fun. We watched Victor Borge and Fraggle Rock, and I think she enjoyed Jaws. My brother gave her a great white tooth."

"Oh, she must like that. Where did you see Fraggle Rock? I haven't seen that show in decades."

"I…uh…have the DVDs." Before she could even say a word about it he was defending himself. "My little sister loved it. She used to call me Schimmel-Finnie."

"The never-seen neighbor. Doc's best friend."

"Yeah."

"That brings back some memories. I was a little too old to admit I watched it, but…I watched it," Vick said. "I honestly don't know why it didn't go on forever, like Sesame Street. It's a thousand times cuter and more fun for children."

"Harder to come up with plots for Fraggle Rock, I'd think. Then, too, Jim Henson died around about the time the show ended, if I remember right. That probably took the wind out of some sails."

"What did Iris think of Victor Borge?" Vick asked.

"I think she liked him," he said. "She seemed impressed that he could act so stupid and still play the piano so well."

"Was any of this…Borge, Skelton…black and white?"

"No, but I think I got her to think about giving black and white a try, at least."

"You're a miracle-worker." She chuckled. "Anyway, I didn't call you this morning just to check on how things are going."

"I kind of thought so. What's up?"

"Richard and I are facing something of an obstacle here in San Diego, insomuch as my aunt turns out to have become something of a hoarder. Her house is a pig sty. It is no place to recuperate. So he and I are going to spend the day cleaning up, which means we won't be back until late tonight. Is Iris okay with you for that long? I'm sure I can have her regular babysitter come pick her up."

"Sure, she's fine here," Lassiter said. "I don't mind a bit, and…maybe…maybe we could take her bowling?"

"I think Iris would love that," Vick said, sounding surprised. "Don't be too competitive with her, Carlton, but yes, I think that would be a fine idea."

"Oh, don't worry, I'll curb the impulse to dominate around her. Has she ever bowled before? Because if it's hard for her to get the ball to the pins, they've got those bumper things they'll lay down in the gutters for kids."

"You'd actually consent to bowl a game with bumpers in the gutters?" Vick said.

"Why wouldn't I? My ball never goes into the gutter anyway," he said, wryly.

Thank God, the Chief laughed. "There were bumpers in the gutters last time we took Iris bowling, but that's been awhile. She might want to try it without this time. She's a fairly competitive little girl herself."

"Well, if we need bumpers after a bit we'll have 'em lay 'em down. I've got an old friend who works at the alley nearby and she won't be bothered a bit. I'll see if O'Hara wants to come along with us."

"Taking Iris bowling? Are you kidding? Of course I'm coming along!" Juliet said.

"She says she's coming, Chief. She'll keep me in line, you know her."

"Honestly, Carlton, I'm less worried about it today than I was yesterday. I'm happy things are going so well."

"Iris is a good kid. I'm happy to spend a little time with her."

"Glad to hear it. Well, I'll let you go, then."

"So long, Chief. Good luck today, and I guess I'll see you tonight." She said her goodbyes and he clicked off the phone. He looked at Juliet. "Vick won't be back until late, so Iris is going to stay with me 'til she gets here."

"What about…Sunday dinner? You're not taking Iris along, are you?" Juliet asked.

"Oh God, no. I just won't go. Which means more than likely that Lincoln won't go, and when I call Lauren up and tell her I'm not going, she probably won't go, either. Well, mom will have a lot of leftovers to get her through the week."

A/N: I'm about a week away from lockdown. I had hoped this would last maybe a couple of weeks, but it's looking like more than that, since my sister called me up asking me if her older son, at college in New York, can come home for Christmas. Goody, one more person to shove into my tiny little house. He was a houseguest of mine last year when he came up for my dad's funeral, and he was a perfectly well-behaved guest, but he takes long showers and I'm just betting they all do. This is going to be much fun. He's also deaf, along with her fifteen year old son, and I lost most of my sign language when they moved to Arizona more than a decade ago, so I can't really communicate with either of them, except through writing, which neither of them like to do. Oh well, I expect I'll have the not-deaf eight year old to translate for me. Interestingly, she (the eight year old) has decided she doesn't want to trick-or-treat this year, and has asked if she can pass out candy with me instead while her mother takes her little brother around. This is fine by me, though my natural inclination is to turn off the damned porch light and pretend I'm not home on that night. I think me and the eight year old will get along all right, even though the last time I saw her she was just a baby. She likes Fraggle Rock. :)