Carlton sat in a small room in his wheelchair. There was a window on the opposite wall, exposing him to the glare of the sun he hadn't seen in days. The bright lights glistened on his partner's blood, which was becoming thick and crusty in his palm. The dull rumble of the air conditioner fueled his brain, replaying the last moments that he saw his partner over and over again.

His short-term memory had yet to recover from the stroke, but he had a feeling the last twenty minutes had surpassed short-term memory in a matter of seconds. These images were never going away.

The heavy door flinging open.

The staff pulling him off of her lifeless body, throwing him haphazardly into a wheelchair.

The nurse checking her pulse as he was whisked out of the room, no longer able to see her in his field of vision.

I killed her.

I killed my partner.

He studied his clenched hand, tracing the dull red through the worn creases and tight muscles. He could imagine his fingers moving with ease, contorting and relaxing at his will, but that was a thing of the past. His hand would not cooperate with him. Not anymore. But he still had a hand. That was something, right? And he had still been able to get to Juliet before the hospital staff had. That was not nothing, wasn't it?

The door of the little room opened, revealing possibly the last person he wanted to see right now. Except for maybe Spencer.

Oh gosh. Shawn.

"What the hell happened, Carlton?" Chief Vick stood in the doorway, two officers behind her.

His grandfather.

The dark figure.

Giving up.

Juliet on the ground.

Covered in blood.

It didn't track. None of it did.

He couldn't make eye contact. He fixed his gaze on the chief of police's shoes, the way the dark leather came to a sharp point at her toes. Clean.

"I-I" his voice stuttered as he tried to put into words what had happened. "I don't know, Karen."

Pause.

"I wish I did."

He could barely hear her whisper something before he saw the officers' feet turn to leave the room, shutting the door soundly behind them.

"Carlton, are you okay?" Her voice felt soft on his ears. Maternal.

"I don't know what happened, Chief." He began to trace his eyes upward as Karen pulled a seat square in front of him. "I swear. I didn't even know O'Hara was in the room with me."

"What do you mean, you didn't know?"

"I didn't know she was there. I heard her, but I thought…" his voice trailed off. He thought what? That he had been hallucinating her like he had hallucinated every other conversation that he had had for the last two weeks. That she was just a figment of his imagination, there to taunt him like everyone else had taunted him for the last four months? That even though it had felt so real every time, maybe this time he could see past his delusional mind long enough to distinguish her really being there from fragments of his dreams coming to act themselves out in front of him in broad daylight.

He couldn't say that. If shooting O'Hara didn't land him in jail, admitting that he was seeing things and that was why it happened would land him in the loony bin for sure.

"What did you think?"

He looked out the window behind the chief. Watched the world float by outside the building. Like he had been for months. He hadn't seen direct sunlight, or touched actual grass, or felt actual wind in four months. And now he wanted those things more than anything in the world. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be done hiding. Done being ashamed. Done being berated by the ghost of his past self.

"I thought I was imagining her."

Chief watched him carefully. "Have you imagined things in the past, Carlton?"

He was so done sitting on life. So done watching life change like a movie that he was watching in fragments. "Yes," he said slowly. Carefully.

"And that was why you didn't know she was there?"

"Yes." His eyes traced the floor.

"And that is why you didn't know that you shot her?"

"I was going to use the gun…" he closed his eyes, remembering the stroke of luck he had felt to have given up, only to realize his head was already resting on his gun, "She wasn't supposed to be there."

"She saved you." Karen's voice dropped like a brick on the thick air.

"Karen, I didn't even know I was holding a gun. I didn't know she was there until she hit the ground. She pulled the gun from my head. She saved my life. And I killed her."

The gravity hit him again, rushing over him in a wave of images that collected in the palms of his hand in smeared lines of blood.

"I killed my partner."

"Carlton," she put her hand out on his, "She's not dead."

He studied her face, searching for the truth. Afraid to trust her words. "She's not?"

"She's in surgery right now. They delivered the baby and are working on stitching her up. But she was alive when they got her to the hospital."

Carlton felt anxiety and relief swell in his chest, hope filling his lungs.

"They delivered the baby? Is it okay?" He thought about how tiny Lily had been the first time he had held her. The first time her mousey fingers had wrapped around his thumb. And she had been full term- late even, by two days.

"Last I heard Shawn was in the NICU with her."

The mention of Shawn made his heart tighten uncontrollably. He had almost taken everything from him, in just a matter of seconds. He didn't always agree with the man's antics, but he considered him a friend and couldn't process how Shawn was ever going to forgive him- not after this.

A strong desire to make amends, with everyone, overtook him. He needed to make it right. Apologize to everyone he had shut out. Everyone he had hurt.

"I want to go home." He said to the universe, in a sudden moment of clarity, willing it to be true. He was ready. He was getting out of here. He wanted his family back.

"I need to see Marlowe," he said, finally able to look at the chief. "I need to see Lily."

"Carlton. I'm not sure if right now is the best time-"

"No. I need to see them," he cut her off. "Right now. I need to see Marlowe and apologize, and I need to see Lily." Sudden desperation overwhelmed his being, begging for forgiveness he didn't believe he deserved, but he had to try.

"I'll see what I can do." She said, standing up and giving him one last look from the door. "Let's see if we can get you cleaned up first, why don't we?"

Carlton found himself again alone in the room momentarily.

What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she doesn't want Lily to see me? What if they don't forgive me? I made her leave. I shut them out and then I did this. What if they won't come?

He looked out the window into the courtyard and saw an old couple walking down the path. The man looked bent over, his back crooked and he was leaning heavily on a walker. The woman walked slowly next to him, her hand over his on the rubber handles, talking easily as the man focused on each step.

She was so patient with him, pausing for him to take an extra breath every few steps, occasionally brushing his scruffy hair off his forehead. It was all Carlton could hope for, that Marlowe would be patient with him. If he wasn't the same as he once was, if he couldn't sweep Marlowe off her feet or carry his baby up the stairs, would she still love him?

"Marlowe and Lily are on their way," Karen said, walking back through the door with a fresh button-up shirt and some washcloths in a pink bucket.

"They are?"

"Of course they are, Carlton." She said, sitting in front of him, placing the bucket on his lap and rubbing the warm washcloths over his palms. Carlton watched as red blood seeped into the water, turning the whole basin a soft pink.

"I didn't think they would want to see me. Not after…" his voice trailed off as she patted his clean hands dry. "I made them leave. I told her not to come back. And now this? I was sure they wouldn't want to see me."

"Carlton, they're your family. They love you. We all do. We want you better and we want you home. No matter what happened to you. Or what you did. Or what you have gone through these last few months. We're not giving up on you. And we're certainly not leaving you here in this hospital to rot."

She helped him unbutton his blood-stained shirt and replace it with a new button up over his t-shirt.

"She's really not dead?"

"No news is good news."

The air fell silent between them, as both began to silently pray for their detective, their friend.

Please let there be no news.