Sorry for the huge delay. I've had this chapter around for a while, too. It's the next chapter that's been taking me so long. Anyway, hope you like it. And a big thank you to everyone for the reviews, especially fornwalt. Kind words are truly appreciated. :-)

Juliet's still a shade fuzzy from the drugs, but she feels stronger and more coherent. Unfortunately, it means nothing because she's still tied tightly to an explosive chair while her knight in shining armor is being tied up to his own.

In the interim, Juliet studies Shawn's bloodied face. Above his left eyebrow, a small cut is already scabbing over. His nose has finally stopped bleeding, but not before ruining his shirt, pants, and leaving a trail of red that makes it look like he's been shot. Or stabbed.

Juliet's breath catches. She hadn't had a very clear view of the scuffle; Yang's brother did have that blade.

She calms herself with the not-exactly-comforting idea that she'd be able to see more blood if Shawn'd been stabbed.

Yang's brother tightens the last strap across Shawn's legs just as the cell phone rings. He leaves them to walk over and answer it, putting it on speakerphone for her benefit.

"Spencer! We've got Yang. We're letting her go," her partner's voice rings out from the speakers. "Here she is. She'll corroborate it."

There's a faint rustle, a subtle click, and Psycho Serial Killer Number 1 is on the line. "Hey, bro," she says sweetly, as if she were just calling to say hi. As if she and her "bro" weren't responsible for dozens of murders. As if they weren't going to kill two more.

Juliet seethes quietly. What she wouldn't give to be untied and holding her weapon right now.

"What's the verdict?" the brother asks, turning so that he can watch his captives. "Are they letting you go?"

Yang laughs. "I think they were actually considering it, but no. They're not going to free me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" they hear Lassiter yell. Juliet can only imagine the look on his face. "We are letting you go! Tell your psychotic brother the truth! You're free, you're both free. Just let O'Hara and Spencer go!"

Juliet contemplates what her partner's plan might be, but she doesn't get much time.

"The police aren't going to let you go?" the brother asks, completely ignoring Lassiter. His voice is emotionless, a lifeless reading of an invisible script.

"No," Juliet wants to smack the smugness right out of Yang's tone. "So I'd say we're good to go with Plan B."

"What's Plan B?!" she hears Lassiter demand before the brother disconnects the call.

Grinning his sick grin, he walks back over to Juliet and rips the duct tape off her mouth without warning.

"Aghh," Juliet hisses involuntarily. He ignores her cry.

"I was going to wait until Mr Loverboy here awakens, but I'm afraid I can't spare the time. A Psycho's work is never done," he jokes, striding over to pick up his small remote control from the table.

"What the hell are you planning?" Juliet spits at him.

"You're so fiery," he comments, running a finger across the control. "Fitting, don't you think?"

"So you're blowing up the building?"

"Plan B is a multi-faceted plan," he declares, returning to the table and picking something up. He carries it to Shawn's chair, but Juliet can't see yet what it is.

"You won't get away with it," Juliet argues. "My partner's got the place surrounded by now."

"I'm sure," he replies sarcastically. "But even if he does, I'm prepared for that. Besides, you should really be worrying about yourselves now."

He moves away from Shawn, for the first time giving Juliet a clear view of the bomb tied around Shawn's ankles. It's a different bomb, this one with a red, digital display and two different colored bottles.

Yang's brother gathers a few things from the table and walks past Shawn towards the door. A few steps past him, he taps his forehead mockingly, as if he's forgotten something important. He doubles back, bends down, and pushes a button.

The numbers flash five minutes and start to count backwards.

"So," he starts as he once again heads towards the side door behind Shawn. "Any last words?"

There aren't enough words for what Juliet wanted to say, and she'd need a profane thesaurus to manage even one sentence.

With a little wave and a devilish grin, he strolls to the exit and leaves. The door closes behind him, its rusted hinges echoing throughout the former lumber store.

Juliet's eyes immediately return to the counter. Four minutes forty two seconds. Forty one. Forty.

Her mind races, but she can't imagine what they're going to do.

She frantically scans the dark expanse of the room. Nothing. Nothing that can help. Just scattered pieces of rotten wood.

All of the tools that had been so abundant before have suddenly vanished... except...

She spies the garden shears hidden partway behind the leg of the table. The ones he'd used to cut her hair - they aren't sharp but they'll do the job.

Staring down at her pressure-sensitive trigger, Juliet contemplates how to make her move. The only problem is... she can't make one.

She can't... but Shawn might be able to.

She has to wake him up.

Two heads are better than one, and waking Shawn up is going to be their only chance.

"SHAWN!" she screams, probably too loud but she can't help it. Her eyes settle on the screen.

Three fifty eight. Three fifty seven.

"SHAWN!" she yells again, staring intently at his battered face. "SHAWN! You have to wake up! NOW!"

His head lolls to the side slightly.

Juliet's face lights up. "Shawn?!"

"Grrmnhmn," he mumbles.

"Shawn, listen, you have to wake up. It's very important. You're tied to a chair. Yang's brother's strapped a bomb to you. I'm rigged, too. I need you to wake up."

Juliet gaps hopefully as Shawn lifts his head slightly. Maybe they have a chance after all.

Shawn's jaw shudders and he blinks rapidly. "Jules?" he croaks.

Juliet tries her most optimistic smiles, but she knows how it looks and drops the comforting pretense. "Listen, Shawn, we're in trouble."

Her eyes drop to the counter. Three minutes fourteen seconds. Thirteen. Twelve.

Shawn still isn't in complete control of his body and, even if he were, he can't see it anyway.

"What?" he asks wearily, his brain sluggishly attempting to catch up.

"You're," Juliet starts, then pauses. "There's another bomb. And I think he's wired the building. I'm worried that if I move too much I'll mess with the pressure sensor, but I thought maybe you'd be able to hop your way over to the shears. You see? Over by the table."

"What kind of bomb is it?"

"I'm not sure. Chemical? There's two small canisters of liquid."

Shawn swallows. "If I hop, I could mix them prematurely. It... wouldn't be pretty. How long do we have?"

Juliet's eyes reluctantly return to the counter. "Two minutes forty nine seconds."

Though a frequent quitter, Shawn is not a defeatist. Yet even he is starting to feel a hopelessness in his chest that can't be denied.

Can he scoot over and tip himself, somehow grab hold of the shears and cut himself and Jules free and run before the liquids mix? And before the timer reaches zero and does the deed for him?

Probably not.

Hell, who's he kidding? Definitely not.

He's good, but he's just not that good.

"Jules," he chokes, wanting desperately to whisk them both away, to be the hero one more time.

He's had longer than he ever expected, if he's honest. Always a seeker of danger and excitement, long before Psych's doors opened, Shawn's made his peace with death more times than he'll admit. And every time his charmed life leads him safely out of each near-death experience, a part of his brain inevitably focuses on how many more times he has. How many more lives?

He guesses he has his answer now.

"It's been a pleasure to, more than a pleasure, really, to-"

"Shawn, don't," she interrupts. He's pretty sure that's a tear on her cheek, sparkling in the moonlight. He humors her and pretends he can't hear the quiver in her voice. "We still have time. We can think of something."

Shawn shakes his head slowly.

"Lassiter could show up," there's determination in his tone now, and Shawn admires it. He nods, though he doesn't share her belief.

"Maybe," he agrees absently. His mind drifts for a moment to Gus. And Henry. Man, his dad is going to be pissed. He almost wishes he could see it. Hopefully his mom will help him cope.

Juliet's eyes are making the rounds from Shawn to the table to her bomb to his. Her brain is trying desperately, reworking the variables in every conceivable fashion, but the equation still seems to come out the same.

If there were more time, Shawn doesn't doubt that one or the other - or maybe both of them - could figure it out... but there isn't enough time.

Timing has never been their thing anyway.

Shawn's mental countdown's pretty accurate, and he knows they've less than two minutes.

Two minutes. You can't even order and receive a Starbucks in that time, and they're supposed to save themselves?

"Jules, I wish you would've asked me out yesterday," he tells her. His voice is quieter and more serious than Juliet's ever heard.

It freaks her out.

He's given up. It has to be bad for Shawn to give up.

"Me, too," she replies, her voice a shade above a whisper.

People probably would envy her, if they knew. No one knows long long they have on Earth, and Juliet has a very handy countdown.

"I'm sorry," Shawn blurts, interrupting her thoughts.

She's genuinely puzzled. "For what?"

"I should have seen this coming."

She takes a breath, refusing to contemplate how many she has left. "It's not your fault. Besides, I should have seen him in my car."

"I need to tell you something."

"You better speak quickly, then," Juliet attempts a joke but neither laughs.

Shawn swallows. Maybe he shouldn't say it. Maybe... but the idea of coming clean before they die...

"Two things, really," he adds. They only have a minute and some seconds left anyway. Why not come out with all of it? Why not free his soul before...?

"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you," he admits hurriedly. "I wasn't going to say anything, but..." he trails off. If his hands were free, he'd gesture around them. As it is, Juliet understands him.

She sits still for a while. It makes Shawn anxious - more anxious than the timer, actually. When at last she smiles, it's bittersweet.

"It's good to know," she says, her throat suddenly dry.

"And I think I'm in love with you, too, Shawn," he prompts her with a grin, though not in his usual "Juliet" voice.

She chuckles, a mean feat with only seventy eight seconds, and returns the grin. "We'll see."

Neither one feels the need to remind themselves of their impending deaths.

Shawn turns his attention to studying her face. As far as last things to see, he could have done much worse.

"You said two things," she reminds him.

Shawn gulps, chickening out. Maybe some things were better taken to the grave.

"Nah, just the one thing, really."

There's a silence and, though it only lasts a few heartbeats, it feels an eternity.

Juliet doesn't pursue the conversation, but he's not sure if it's because of disinterest or a lack of time.

"I would have thought I'd have something profound to say," Juliet muses quietly. "That there'd be some mental clarity. I mean, aren't our lives supposed to flash before our eyes?"

"Maybe your life wasn't exciting enough, because I've been enjoying a mental Power Point presentation for a few minutes already."

Juliet's smile is half-hearted, and Shawn realizes it's because her eyes have caught the clock.

"Forty four?" he guesses.

"Thirty seven," she corrects.

Shawn attempts a shrug, as if it were as meaningless as guessing lottery numbers.

"Shawn, I just want to say that-"

Their heads snap up, her sentence lost to the ages. They hear the sound first, faint.

"Is that...?"

The cavalry is here, but they're too late.

The strobe light effect is mesmerizing as the approaching squad cars grow closer. The red, white, and blue lights beckon optimistically as they fill the room.

Shawn watches as Juliet's face falls slightly. She must have done the math.

With one of his last breaths, he sighs.

Juliet catches his defeated look. "Eleven," she tells him.

She wishes Lassiter would have been faster. She wishes she could hold Shawn's hand for the end. She... wishes a lot of things.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

It's like a New Year's countdown, Shawn thinks. Except no champagne and they won't see the fireworks.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

They share a smile. Each thinks of their families, their friends, their lives.

Four.

"Goodbye," Juliet whispers.

Three.

"Goodbye," Shawn echoes.

Two.

Juliet squeezes her eyes shut.

One.

Shawn braces.

Zero.