Chapter Nine

AN: This chapter's for Loafer, who commented it seemed we needed some thinkiness from Juliet's POV about the dissolution of her relationship with Shawn. As usual, she is Quite Wise. SPOILER ALERT: some of the dialogue in this beginning scene is borrowed directly from SANTABARATOWN 2 as well as from episode 2's preview. As usual, with a bit of squinting and handwaving, it can be incorporated and interpreted as part of the fabric of this story, but because the story itself is so AU, we can assume the implications are not at all congruent with the show's and it's going to go wandering down its own merry path. As usual, no infringement intended—I own nothing.

Just thought I'd throw that out there again.

Oh, and this turned a little unexpectedly and ever-so-slightly M again. Hope you don't mind.

"You're going after him, aren't you?"

He wouldn't look at her. "Aw, Jules, what do you want from me?"

"Honesty would be a good start—I am trying to help you."

She tried to ignore the guilt jabbing at her as she scolded him about honesty. How many times had he lied to her in the past—hell, this week alone?—compared to how often she'd ever lied to him? Of course, her one lie—mostly of omission—was a humdinger. It still couldn't possibly compare to the dozens of times he'd lied or withheld information. Could it?

Oh, God, she didn't even know anymore.

"Oh yeah? Then help me find this guy."

"You know I can't do that." Not the way he wanted. He knew her hands were tied, not only legally, but ethically and emotionally as well. Which made his request even emptier. He not only had no expectation of her assistance, he really didn't want it. The only thing she could do was try to appeal to him on an emotional level.

"Look, I'm worried about what could happen to you."

"Look, if they fire me, they fire me."

Firing. That's what he thought. That she was worried he'd be fired. Son of a… "That's not what I'm talking about, Shawn—these are very dangerous people."

"I appreciate the concern, I do—" Right. By the tone of his voice, not only did he not appreciate her concern—he didn't even care it existed. The only thing that mattered, was his mission. "But I gotta go."

"Just remember, you're not going through this alone. Okay? So the next time you decide to risk your life, remember that there's someone that loves you who's worried sick."

"I know," he'd said, uncharacteristically somber. "Gus."

As she'd frowned, he quickly added with the smile she'd once found so charming, "Hey, I kid, I kid."

She was sure he did. Or that he thought he did. She'd played along and smiled, but she couldn't shake the sensations that had overtaken her at his unhesitating response. Part annoyance, that he couldn't take her seriously—not even in that particular moment. Because she loved him. She did. Maybe she wasn't in love with him, but she cared. The bigger part of her, however, had recognized the truth in his response. He did have Gus. He'd always have Gus. And she was shamefully glad. Because it meant Shawn would always have someone. And it wouldn't have to be her.

"You know my lease is almost up."

"Yeah?"

"So I… am going to move in… with my dad."

And the only thing she'd been able to think was Oh, thank God. She should have been ashamed.

What she was, was relieved.

She still had time.

She found him lounging in an Adirondack chair on his front lawn, iced tea in hand as he watched the sailboats skim past. No one would ever guess that mere weeks earlier he'd been at death's door.

"Hey, Henry… how are you feeling?"

He grinned and lifted his glass in toast. "Pretty good, kid, all things considered. What's up with you?"

She forced a smile around the pit in her stomach. "Just the usual. Working a lot."

Trying like hell to remember she had to give the man she loved the space she'd promised.

"Heavy case load?"

Trying like hell to remember who she was supposed to be in love with.

"When is it not?"

Knowing she had to tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may because she just couldn't lie anymore. Whatever happened... happened.

"Looks like I retired at the right time." He chuckled and shook his head, prompting a reluctant smile from her. Far more sensitive to emotional undercurrents than his son, his smile faded as he gently asked, "So, what brings you by?"

"I was hoping to talk to Shawn." She shoved her hands in her jeans' pockets. "He's not at the Psych offices and Gus is on a business trip, so I figured he was here."

Henry's brows drew together. "Why would he be here?"

Confused, Juliet slowly replied, "Because he's… living here?"

Henry reared back, a familiar expression of disbelief wreathing his craggy features. "Good God, no. What happened? You kick him out already?"

The pit grew, threatened to swallow her where she stood. "Kick him out?"

He shrugged, disbelief quickly turning to uneasy suspicion. "He told me his lease was running out and that he'd be moving in with you. I figured it was about damned time."

Bright lights swam before Juliet's eyes, obscuring the brightness of the day. "Henry, he told me he was moving in with you when his lease ran out."

"Not just Good God, no, but oh, hell no." Henry set his glass down on a nearby table and reached for her, easing her down to the chair beside his. "It was bad enough when he was staying here during my recovery. Especially after his mom came to visit. You'd think at thirty-six and in a steady relationship himself, he'd understand about needs. Even for parents."

Oh, dear God—did he mean…

"It was after he caught us he told me he was moving in with you."

He did mean. And she could well imagine Shawn's horror and deep dismay. "When was this, Henry?"

"Two…no—wait, almost three weeks ago. Are you telling me you haven't heard from or seen him in that entire time?"

Nearly three weeks. Had it really been that long since she'd spoken to her alleged boyfriend? She'd been working hard, yes—in part because they were busy, they were always busy, crime never took a respite, no matter her crazy, mixed-up emotional state, but more because the more she worked, the more time she could legitimately spend with Carlton. The more she worked, the more she could exhaust herself. The more exhausted she was, the easier it was to fall into sleep that while not dreamless—since the moment she closed her eyes, memories of their night together would assail her senses and leave her desperate for more—was still deep enough and hard enough to keep her from running to him and shamelessly demanding he choose her.

That kept her from begging him to forgive her for having been a thoughtless, selfish fool. To have treated him like… a fixture. To swear she'd spend the rest of her life loving him and treating him like the absolute gift he was.

Unable to do any of that now because of her own cowardice and idiocy she decided it well past time to do the one thing she could—tell Shawn it was over.

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd already known.

"Hey, Jules."

"Shawn."

"I don't suppose you're going to buy that I've been at my dad's this entire time, are you?"

She calmly faced him across her threshold and remained silent. The way he was shuffling his feet and fidgeting, refusing to fully meet her gaze for more than a split second at a time, he no doubt assumed she was mad. Honestly, she wasn't. At best, mildly curious. Although not even that. Not that he'd believe her. For one thing, Shawn World had to be far more interesting and you know, fun than the world the mundane folk inhabited, Moreover, in Shawn World, silence and stillness were less about disinterest as they were foreign entities and therefore could only purport Bad Things.

"Can I come in?"

"Is it really necessary?"

"I…" He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "Jules, look, I don't blame you for being mad—"

She shrugged. "I'm not."

His eyes widened at the matter-of-factness with which she spoke. "You're not?"

Relief lightened his features, turned them so incongruously boyish, she couldn't understand what she'd seen in them past the first year of their acquaintance when she still thought boyish in a twenty-eight year old was cute. Far less so in a thirty-six year old. "So that means we're good then."

She shrugged again. "I guess." She knew she was being a coward, allowing him to ramble and make assumptions, but she couldn't deny an almost morbid curiosity at his reaction—couldn't resist seeing just how far he could go without realizing his behavior, while it didn't affect her beyond convincing her she was doing the right thing, was not acceptable for an adult—much less one in a so-called committed relationship.

He sighed and grinned. "Excellent. Hey, look, why don't we order some pizzas and I'll call Gus—let me tell you, he was so happy I was back and that life would be returning to normal—and we can watch a Twilight Zone marathon. Or hey, maybe just a Twilight movie marathon. We can totally MST3K it. You still have all the DVDs, right?"

"I returned them to the office." Along with all the rest of his things.

"Oh, well, I can ask Gus to stop and and pick them up on his way over."

When she made no move to abandon her perch in the doorway, he finally stopped and for the first time, seemed to understand she wasn't reacting to his babblings. Not with the glee she might have exhibited early on in their friendship, nor the exasperation that had become the norm throughout much of the latter part of their relationship. Which hadn't differed in tone from their friendship come to think of it, other than the sex that had become routine fairly quickly and burned out to almost nonexistent even before Henry had gotten shot. It was as if Shawn expended so much energy being… Shawn, it left him with few reserves for physical interaction. Let alone emotional.

It wasn't fair to compare him to Carlton, but she did anyway. Carlton's reserve and cool demeanor, so often mocked by Shawn, masked a deeply passionate nature and she knew, even though they'd only had their one night, it wasn't something familiarity would dissipate. The passion and fiery intensity were too intrinsic a part of his makeup. She easily recognized it now, even in their ordinary, day-to-day interactions—understood how much of himself he held back from the rest of the world. Kept hidden and private and only for himself and the precious few he allowed into his inner world.

She wanted nothing more than to crawl into that world and live there with him, but she'd sacrificed that opportunity for the man standing before her. For all the empty promises she'd been stupid enough and naïve enough to believe. For all the second chances given and now… now… she was getting mad.

"Okay doesn't mean you get to pick up where we left off, Shawn. Why on earth would you even want to? After all, as you've so ably proved, you don't need me."

"Jules, that's not true."

"It is. And you made it clear time and again even before you disappeared."

He released an explosive sigh and shook his head. "Are you still mad I let Lassie help and not you with finding Jerry?"

"You didn't let Carlton do anything," she snarled, viciously enough he backed away to a safe distance with a nervous glance. "He offered and for once in your life, you were smart enough to take advice from someone who actually knew better than you."

And she knew he'd done it for her. Whether out of guilt or because he thought he was trying to give her something he thought she wanted, she wasn't certain—and while she knew that peripherally, at least, it had also been for Henry and for the badge, mostly, it had been a gift for her.

"Look…" she said, deliberately gentling her voice, "I'm honestly not mad. But I don't want to do this anymore." She waited until he met her gaze. "Let me ask you something."

"What?"

"Did you miss me while you were gone? At all?"

As his eyes narrowed, the light in them expressing confusion, she went on. "Because honestly? I didn't miss you."

"You didn't?" Honest shock colored his voice.

She shook her head and felt a pang that she'd had to state it so baldly, but with Shawn, a sledgehammer often had to be used to make a point. "I'm sorry, Shawn, but truth is, I didn't. Truth is, I'm not mad and I didn't miss you because—" She braced herself to take another swing. "Because I'm in love with someone else."

"You're... you..." He blinked, the concept clearly too foreign to comprehend. "Who?" he finally asked.

"I'm afraid, Shawn, that is none of your business."

She closed the door, feeling a bit bad that she'd ended their conversation on what could be considered a lie. Then again, was it? Even though they'd all been in each others' back pockets for years, the fact she'd fallen in love with Carlton really wasn't Shawn's business. Especially since nothing could come of it for the time being.

At least…no relationship could come of it for the time being. Making her way to her bedroom, she sank to the edge of the bed and opened her nightstand's drawer where proof of the one definite that had come of her falling in love with Carlton resided. She studied the pink plus sign staring up at her from the plastic-shielded window, still as vibrant as the day she'd taken the test. She had no idea what the future held other than the fact that she was going to be a mother.

She lay propped on an elbow, and carefully stroked his hair and lightly traced the lines of his brows and the curve of his lashes as they lay against his cheeks, not wanting to wake him, but unable to keep from touching him. Hardly able to believe she could touch him. That he was lying in her arms, asleep, smiling, even, the edges of his normally stern mouth relaxed into a sweet, vulnerable curve.

"God, I love you, Carlton," she whispered, hardly able to believe she had the freedom to say it.

"I'm dreaming, right," he mumbled softly, eyes still closed. "Or Spencer's finally driven me completely around the bend and I'm in the best loony bin a cop's pension can manage."

She smiled and leaned down to brush her lips against his, whispering, "Not a dream. Promise." When she straightened, she found him gazing at her, his eyes a deep, slumberous blue in which she desperately wanted to wrap herself.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked in a soft, hazy rumble that sent shivers down her spine. This was what he sounded like, first thing in the morning. This was what he looked like, eyes half-open, salt-and-pepper waves of his hair in disarray, his chest bare and warm and calling to her to touch, which she happily did, trailing her fingertips through the coarse hair and thrilling to the feel of his heart speeding up beneath her palm.

"A while," she said. "Had to go to the bathroom."

The sleep haze disappeared in an instant. "You weren't sick, were you?" he asked sharply.

"Shh… relax." She stroked his chest with more deliberation, soothing away the rigidness holding his muscles hostage. "The morning sickness has been gone for a while. But I have to pee every hour on the hour it feels like."

"Oh." He relaxed back into the pillows, drawing her down to lay over him. "Sounds…"

"Like a pain in the ass," she finished with a laugh. "It is, but so worth it."

His heart sped further beneath her cheek, accompanied by a deep sigh although he remained silent.

After several minutes of lying there quietly while she listened to his heart and he stroked her hair she ventured a tentative, "Carlton?"

"Yeah?"

"You really would have stayed with me, even if the baby was Shawn's?"

He tensed once more, but only briefly. "Yes," he said so simply, there was no denying its truth.

"He was right, you know—about there being no way it could have been his."

A strange thing to be discussing while lying naked in bed with one's lover and the father of her child, and she couldn't have articulated why, exactly, she felt the need to bring it up, except she wanted to put the ghost of Shawn to rest in the most unequivocal manner she knew.

"I told you, Juliet, it wouldn't have mattered. You're the one who matters. You and the baby."

Warmth bloomed at the ferocity of his words. "Our baby." She moved to sit up, feeling the light, fluttering shifting of the small being living inside her. "Carlton, it's important that you understand there was never any question that this baby is yours." As his brows drew together in confusion, heat rose in her cheeks. This really was an odd conversation, but it was nevertheless a gift she felt compelled to give him.

"I've always used protection."

His brows lowered further. "Okay."

"Because any kind of hormone-based protection makes me really sick, a diaphragm's been my chosen method."

"Okay," he repeated more slowly.

She swallowed, feeling as if her face was on fire. "But I'm not foolish, Carlton, I need you to understand that."

He pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. "I've never thought you were."

It was his turn to blush as she lifted an eyebrow. "Okay," he confessed. "Other than your ill-advised relationship with Spencer, I've never thought you were foolish."

Oddly enough, she felt more at ease. "So you'll believe me when I say, even with a diaphragm, I never, ever took unnecessary risks."

"Okay…" It was clear from the tone of his voice he believed her, even if he didn't have a clue what the hell she was trying to say. That he trusted her so damned much was a gift whose magnitude she wasn't certain he'd ever understand. Which made it doubly important she give him this gift in return. Her trust. Her love.

"What I'm trying to say is I never… made love to anyone who didn't use protection as well. Ever."

The heat returned as she stared down at her hands, one twisted in the sheet, the other resting on her abdomen. Funny how that had so quickly become a habit. Comforting for both her and the baby. And when Carlton had done it…

Focus.

The silence between them was huge as he absorbed the greater meaning behind her words.

"I didn't use anything," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "And needless to say, the diaphragm was the last thing on my mind that night. None of which even occurred to me until I realized I was pregnant."

He bolted upright. "Oh, God… I'm—"

"Don't you dare." The tears that threatened at a moment's notice appeared as if on cue. "For God's sake, I'm not telling you this for guilt and recriminations, Carlton—I'm trying to tell you, you dolt, that stupid as it might sound, as far as I'm concerned, you are the only man I've ever truly made love to." Her voice shook. "That I've ever… given myself to completely and… and without reservation."

If the silence before had been huge, this time it was all-encompassing, feeling as if it was sucking all the air from the room as Juliet stared at Carlton. Pale, his eyes deep blue pools filled with wonder. The longer the silence stretched, the more the wonder evolved into something darker, so feral and undeniably possessive, Juliet felt every nerve ending tighten, making even the light, smooth weight of the sheet feel like an unbearable burden. Her breath coming in shallow gasps, she allowed it to slip from her body, leaving her completely bare to Carlton. In all ways.

"You really are mine," he said simply, the words emerging just shy of a growl and urging her own possessive streak to the surface.

"And you're mine," she said as she straddled his lap, her hips moving in a seductive rhythm almost of their own volition, her breasts tingling as they brushed his chest.

As her mouth claimed his, his hands moved beneath her thighs, shoving the sheet far enough out of the way to allow him to surge up into her so-ready body.

"You are mine," he whispered against her throat as her head fell back.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, Juliet gasped, "Only yours. Forever."

He stilled beneath her and tilted her head forward until her gaze me his. "Forever," he repeated, the feral and possessive woven together with such an obvious and deep love, Juliet felt the tears reappear, but for an altogether different reason. With a deep kiss, he gently rolled them over, but before she could hook a leg over his hip and draw him even further into her, he withdrew completely, leaving her chilled, confused, and absolutely thrumming with arousal, dammit.

"Carlton—?"

He smiled and pressed his fingers to her lips stilling her protest before sweeping his hand over her body in a caress that was both soothing and possessive. Had any other man ever tried to touch her with such demanding intent, she might have decked him, but with Carlton, she knew as much as he owned her, he gave himself over to her in equal measure. They owned each other.

"Forever," he whispered again as he rose and quickly left the room. And as much as she wanted him back in bed, now, and doing all those things he'd done last night and then some, Juliet couldn't deny she enjoyed the sight of him, nude, striding through the room. Enjoyed even more the sight of him, nude, striding back into the room, the whole of his lean, strong body so magnetic and compelling, she completely missed he was holding something in his hands until he slipped back into bed and set it on the mattress between them.

"You kept it," she whispered, looking down at the Craftsman bungalow that was the only physical expression of their dream that had existed—until now.

"Of course I did. It's our house." He lifted the lid. "Look inside."

She smiled as the interior of the perfect little box revealed the note she'd written him, neatly folded inside. Looking more closely, she could see how the creases were worn, the edges of the paper ever so slightly bent, as if the note had been unfolded and read many, many times.

Beside the note, however, was an unexpected item—heart pounding, she knew this was what Carlton wanted her to see. Carefully, she lifted the small velvet box, her fingers trembling so much, she could barely lift the lid.

"Oh, God…" she breathed.

A single, narrow band of diamonds set in platinum, because she'd told him, she really didn't want an engagement ring. It didn't make sense for them since they'd known each other so long and they'd agreed, that night so long ago, that if it ever happened for them, it would be fast and it would be final. There would be no need for a period of waiting, and neither of them had any use for announcing their union to the world. Their love was private and the promises they exchanged meant only for each other.

Besides, she was practical and an engagement ring would only get in the way of work.

His fingers trembling almost as much as hers, he lifted the ring from the box and tilted it slightly, the diamonds catching the early morning light and sending brilliant sparkles dancing along the walls and ceiling. Dazzling as the display was, however, it couldn't begin to compete with what she read on the ring's underside—the simple, entwined C&J.

"I'm going to take it and have yesterday's date inscribed on it along with 'Forever,'" he said quietly as he took the box from her hands and gently, almost reverently, slipped the ring on her finger.

"Yesterday's date?"

"That's when everything changed," he said, moving the keepsake box out of the way, before drawing her back over him and easing himself back into her body. With a deep sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, molding her body to his and holding her so tightly, she could feel his heart pounding against her chest

"I don't care when we make it legal, Juliet," he said, gazing into her eyes, his heart revealed in the ocean blue of his. "As far as I'm concerned, I'll always consider yesterday the anniversary of the day you became my wife."

Slowly, she smiled and met his mouth in a searing kiss.

"Not just wife," she whispered against his mouth, her tongue teasing his in a long, slow stroke her lower body echoed as she rose and fell in a languorous motion that stoked her desire impossibly higher.

"Yesterday's the day I became irrevocably yours."