Epilogue

AN: And so, we come to the end… again. Many thanks go to Loafer for suggesting I take another look at Both Sides Now and consider maybe… possibly… writing a followup. Also, many, many thanks go to all of you who've read and especially heartfelt thanks go out to those of you who've taken a few moments to review. Each and every one is read and appreciated.

And now, onward, to the end.

Karen choked on the sip of beer she'd just taken.

"What is it?" Juliet asked as she set bowls of chips and salsa on the umbrella shaded patio table.

Frantically rubbing at her nose to dispel the tickling sensation, Karen nodded toward the scene unfolding a short distance away.

Following her gaze, Juliet grinned. "Oh, that."

Carlton knelt at the patio's edge, expression vacillating between a frown and complete bewilderment as he gazed into the equally stern face of his three year-old daughter. Her hair may have been a wavy, deep golden brown, her features far more evocative of her mother's, but her expressions—oh, Lord, her expressions were Carlton Lassiter's to a T.

"Why not?"

"I told you, sweetheart, it's February and we can't go swimming at the beach in February." Despite the frown, Carlton's voice held infinite patience.

"We were at the beach."

"That was in Hawaii. The water is different there."

The little girl's startlingly dark brows drew together so fiercely, Karen bit down on her palm. No way did she want to potentially distract the scene's players. She'd been waiting for the opportunity to observe this precise moment almost since first learning Carlton was to become a father and it was every bit as entertaining as she'd imagined.

"You said Pa- Paci…"

"Yes, honey, it is the Pacific. Just like here. But it's different."

"No."

Carlton's frown matched his daughter's. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it is. Hawaii's much further south than California." He stopped at the deep blue look being leveled at him and shook his head. Trying again, he settled for a simpler, "It's too cold to go swimming here right now."

"But it's the same," she insisted stubbornly, and Karen felt tears of hilarity well in her eyes.

"Yes, but—"

The little girl balled her fists and glared. "Beach." With that flat declaration, delivered in a tone so utterly reminiscent of her father's that Karen had to bite down harder on her hand, the little girl turned to the giant canvas bag she'd dragged from the house and grasping the handles, began trudging determinedly toward the gate, beach toys tumbling in her wake.

Helpless, Carlton looked toward the patio. "A little help here?"

That was it. Karen completely lost it, bursting into gales of laughter as a grinning Juliet intercepted her daughter before she made a full break for it. Sweeping her up onto her hip, she brushed a teasing finger across the tip of her nose, delaying any potential outcries. "Amelia, you know better than to argue with Daddy."

At her mother's reasonable tone, the little girl's stubborn expression faded, although her lower lip trembled. "Wanna go to the beach, Mama."

"I know, baby, and we'll go soon, I promise, and we can fly kites and build sandcastles, but Daddy's right—it is going to be a while before the water's warm enough for us to go swimming. Besides today's about Daddy's birthday. You want to help him blow out the candles so we can have cake, don't you?"

Immediately, a brilliant smile broke out across the little girl's face as she nodded.

"Now, why don't you go see if Iris will push you in the swings for a while?

Once again Amelia nodded and slid from her mother's arms. Before she could run toward the back of the yard where Iris idly swung as she read a book, however, Juliet knelt and whispered something in her daughter's ear. A moment later, the little girl sidled up beside her father and held out her arms. Without hesitation, Carlton picked her up and settled her on his lap.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"S'okay, sweetheart. I'm just not as good at explaining as Mama is."

Once again, Karen smothered a laugh, this time by taking another sip of beer. Carlton Lassiter, brought to his knees by a little girl. She slid a glance Juliet's direction as she took the seat beside her husband. Brought to his knees by two girls, actually.

If anyone had told her once upon a time that several years down the line she'd be spending considerable free time interacting socially with her two top detectives—that she'd consider them both not simply friends, but family—she'd have ordered psych evals. But oh, how things had changed, especially in the four years since Carlton and Juliet had married. These days, it wasn't at all uncommon for Karen and her husband to join Juliet and Carlton for evenings out or get-togethers at their respective homes, especially since they now lived in the same neighborhood with eleven year-old Iris doing duty as Amelia's favorite babysitter.

Today, was another one of those occasions, gathered not simply for a lazy Sunday barbeque, but to celebrate Carlton's forty-eighth birthday. A celebration he was actually looking forward to, quiet and mellow, spent with people whose company he actually welcomed, unlike the surprise station celebration where Spencer and Guster had brought in an enormous seven-layer Frito-pie "cake" adorned with helium balloons, sparklers and a giant blazing 50 candle.

Marriage and fatherhood had rendered him far, far mellower than he used to be, but he wasn't dead for God's sake. Karen couldn't blame him one bit for drawing his weapon—hell, she'd been halfway to drawing her own weapon at the sight of those two, parading down the hall, monstrosity held between them and warbling, for lack of a better word, "Happy birthday to youuuu… you live in a zooooo…" while accompanied by the Santa Barbara Senior Citizen's Concert Choir.

Spencer had no idea how lucky he was that Juliet was as effective as ever at getting her husband to stand down.

As Amelia kissed her father's cheek with a resounding smack and ran toward the swings, Carlton lifted a dark brow. "Nice to know I amused the hell out of the peanut gallery," he muttered, reaching into the bowl for a chip.

Karen's husband, who'd been fighting his own laughter during the standoff, reached into the galvanized aluminum tub for a beer he uncapped and handed to Carlton.

"I warned you after she was born, you were in for it," he said with a wry grin. "Face it, Carlton—we're outnumbered."

"Son of a…" Carlton sighed and took a long drink. "I honestly thought you were exaggerating."

Even as Karen laughed at the exasperated, resigned, yet undeniably happy expression on Carlton's face, she kept half an eye on Juliet who sat beside Carlton uncharacteristically quiet. And pale. And for the first time in nearly four years, that particular Spidey-sense began tingling.

Very quietly, she asked, "Are you okay?"

Faintly green, Juliet nodded and reached for the pitcher of tea on the table, pouring a glass that she very carefully sipped.

Silently, Karen handed Juliet a tortilla chip. Not a saltine, but still fairly mild, all things considered.

"Does he know yet?"

Color slowly returning, Juliet shook her head. "Happy birthday?" she said with a weak smile.

Karen grinned. "Do you want us to leave?" Knowing how announcements of this nature could go. "Considering last time you gave him this sort of news was fraught with such drama, you two definitely deserve the opportunity to celebrate this one… appropriately."

"Oh, no," Juliet rushed in to assure her. "I was planning on telling him today. Figured the moral support would be welcome" More pink flooded her cheeks as a sly smile graced her face. "And give him enough time to recover so we can celebrate… appropriately."

Karen nodded, tears sparking at the backs of her eyes for altogether different reasons. If anyone deserved the happy ending more…

"Why don't you at least take him off and tell him privately?"

Juliet nodded. "I think that's a good idea." She turned to Carlton, deep in discussion with Karen's husband about local deep sea fishing excursions—a pastime they both enjoyed—and tapped his shoulder.

"Come help me in the kitchen for a minute?" she asked.

Without hesitation, he set his beer down and stood, his ever-alert gaze scanning the yard and ascertaining that yes, all was well with Amelia, laughing as Iris pushed her in the swings—high enough to make her squeal with joy, but not so high that head trauma was possible—before following Juliet into the sprawling Craftsman they'd called home for more than a year now.

"You've got that look."

Karen accepted the fresh beer her husband held out. "What look?"

"Karen Vick, you pull off innocent about as well as Carlton does."

She shrugged and smiled and because she couldn't keep a damned thing from him said, "Remember what I told you happened after Carlton cut Iris' cord?"

He nodded and slowly said, "Yeah… but you said he was fine with Amelia," a suspicious frown drawing his brows together.

"That's because he knew what to expect. It's the unexpected that tends to throw Carlton." She calmly sipped her beer and waited.

Five… four… three…

A loud crash, followed by a muffled thud and Juliet's alarmed, "Carlton! Oh my God, honey are you okay?" rang out from the interior of the house.

So she'd been off by a few seconds.

With a smile, Karen set her beer on the table and stood. Extending her hand, she said, "Come on—let's go congratulate them. I'll help Juliet clean up while you pour Carlton a shot—or three—of Irish."

He shook his head with an admiring grin. "You're an evil woman, Karen Vick."

At the door she paused—glancing inside, she saw Juliet on the floor holding a dazed Carlton's head in her lap and gently stroking his hair. For his part, Carlton gazed up at his wife with the wondering expression with which Karen had often seen him regard her over the years—even before either of them knew what they'd become to each other.

"No, baby," she said with a smile. "I just love seeing people get exactly what they deserve."

~FIN