CHAPTER 8

The fifteen minutes were almost up and Shawn was starting to think maybe they would have been better off going back for Lassie right away. The whole thing felt like a wild goose chase. Plus, Juliet's agitation had grown exponentially with each minute. He'd never seen her looking so nervous and frightened and it made him feel like giving her a big hug and fighting off whatever she was scared of with a whip while rocking a fedora. Of course, it didn't take much to make him feel like hugging Juliet or wearing a fedora. He was just about to suggest bugging out. He was sure Juliet would jump at the support for what was obviously her desire. But suddenly his gaze sharpened on a figure walking up the street towards the bus terminal. It was a man with a baseball hat. Shawn remembered the report from the shooting that the killer had worn a baseball hat with a snake on it.

"Jules," he said, reaching across the back seat to point at the man.

She leaned forward. "Is that him?" she asked with a heartbreaking hopefulness.

"I don't know. I can't see the hat from here. Snake hat, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay, want me to go check?" he asked as he was already opening the car door. "Gus, stay here buddy. I'm just going to look quick, and if you come we'll have to do the race for the shotgun all over again. I don't think Jules wants to see me beat you this time."

Gus snorted. "Just go, Shawn. And open your eyes, man, I think you're dreaming."

"Be careful, Shawn," said Juliet as she grabbed her radio in preparation to call in backup. "Just check the hat and come back."

"Roger that!" said Shawn.

He jumped out of the car and jogged across the street. The guy was entering the terminal when he reached the other side. He kept jogging to the doors and then slowed down as he entered the station. The man was standing at a change machine as Shawn walked past. He tried to walk around to the side to get a view of the hat, but the guy was facing the machine and the wall and looking downwards, so he couldn't see the logo. Shawn sighed and walked around in a circle with his hands on his hips, waiting for the guy to move and feeling agitated himself. Something about the guy's size and shape was screaming at him that it wasn't their man, but he needed to see the hat to be sure. Finally, the guy stepped back from the machine and turned towards Shawn. For a moment, Shawn's doubts pounced on him and he thought what if it's Riley? I'm in here alone with him. His heart started to race, but when he focused on the hat he saw a picture of Mickey Mouse and groaned inwardly. The guy gave him a cursory glance and walked past to sit on a bench. Shawn sighed and headed for the doors.

His phone rang and he figured it was Juliet or Gus calling to ask about the hat, but when he looked at the phone he saw it was from the hospital. His heart skipped. He answered as he pushed his way out of the doors of the station, his first thought that something had happened to his dad.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Shawn Spencer?"

"Yes, what happened? Is it my dad?"

"Sir, there's a man here desperate to contact you. His name is Bill Carcillo."

Shawn's stomach dropped to the sidewalk and he was hardly aware that he'd stopped walking. "What?"

"He was brought in earlier tonight. Can you speak with him?" There was a muffled sound on the line as of the phone being passed from hand to hand. "Shawn?" asked a familiar, pained voice. "I had to call you. They took Gina, Shawn. They broke in and beat me and I woke up here. Riley has Gina. You have to find her!"

Shawn raised his eyes to look at the Crown Vic down the street as things started to fall sickeningly into place. It was a set-up. Riley North wasn't skipping town. At least not yet. He was just getting them out of the way. Shawn started to run.

"Bill, when did this happen?" he asked as he jogged.

"About two hours ago, I think. I don't know. Can you find her? Can you sense her or something? God I don't know what he's going to do, he's crazy."

"I'll find her, Bill. Just take it easy. We're on our way now to get her," he said as he jogged across the street and over to the car. "Just relax, man. I gotta go now." He hung up and ran around the car to the rear passenger door. He realized with a twist in his gut that the thugs who had confronted Lassie in the alley had probably been on their way to kidnap Gina.

Juliet's face was shining with worry at him through the windshield when he approached. After he jumped into the back seat she turned and said, "Was it him? Who were you talking to on the phone?"

Shawn gasped for breath. "It's a set-up. That was Gina North's brother. He's in the hospital. They took her, Jules. They took her to force Braden to set us all up."

Juliet and Gus stared at him with shock as the information sank in. Juliet's face flushed red and the whites of her eyes shone wildly as she turned to put the car in gear. She grabbed the radio as she pulled out and gunned the car, speeding down the road past the terminal. Shawn sat back in the seat feeling like an idiot and thinking about Gina, hoping she wasn't hurt. Poor Lassie was walking straight into a trap. He should've known better than to go get Braden alone, but then they all should've known better. They'd all been played for fools and had played their parts to perfection.

Juliet was snapping her orders into the phone and directing the other units to Olive Street. Then she called Buzz directly but he said he hadn't seen any cabs yet. He also said he couldn't find a pool hall anywhere on the street. Shawn's eyes narrowed. Where had they lured Lassie then? He was being reckless going to get Braden alone, but he still wasn't stupid. He wouldn't walk into a random building for no reason. Maybe they had a place that looked like a pool hall but wasn't a pool hall? Shawn thought about private club houses. So maybe it was a place that still had pool tables in it...his brain buzzed along with those thoughts as he sat forward in the seat again, gazing out the windshield as Juliet raced down the street. He saw headlights coming at them in the other lane and squinted. The car got closer and he thought it looked familiar. It was an older model, boxy with square headlights. He flashed on a memory of an older car passing them on the street when he and Gus had been racing for the honor of shotgun. A spike of cold realization hit his chest. The Buick. It had driven past them at the terminal. Why hadn't he noticed that? And now it was driving towards them.

"Juliet," he said warningly. "Buick."

The car suddenly swerved into their lane when it was half a block away.

"JULES!" screamed Shawn as he braced himself against the front seats with his hands. He noticed, oddly, in a periphery of his mind that Gus had his seat belt on. Figures, he thought as he wished time could stop and he could strap himself in.

Juliet swerved the car, pulling the wheel hard to the left. Shawn was squished up against the rear passenger door. The other car pulled hard to its left so that they narrowly missed each other as they sped past. Juliet slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel to the right again, whipping the back end around and throwing Shawn across the back of the car. His left shoulder slammed into the other door and he yelped in pain. Gus had his arms thrown up in front of his face and was emitting a high-pitched keen. The car came to a shuddering stop, and Shawn wrenched himself off of the door to look out the windshield again. The Buick had stopped perpendicular to them so that it was sitting across both lanes of the road. He could see that two men were climbing out of the car, both through the driver's door so that they'd be on the other side of the vehicle from Juliet's car. His heart skipped as he realized what that probably meant.

"Jules they're gonna..."

"I know, Shawn. Get down," gritted Juliet as she threw off her seat belt and pulled out her gun.

Gus peered between his arms and then looked at Juliet with wide eyes. He unbuckled his belt and squished himself down onto the floor, tucking under the dashboard as much as he could. Shawn was always amazed at his hunkering and pelting and other danger-aversion techniques. The man was a speedy self-preservationist.

Juliet grabbed the radio and tried to get a call out on their position, but then bullets started flying. She yelled their street location, tossed the radio aside and opened her door, ducking down behind it and leaning her arms on it to return fire.

"Jules, car doors aren't...," began Shawn with a concerned note in his voice.

"It's lined, Shawn."

"Sweet! Do you happen to have a button that will deploy missiles too?"

"Shut up, Shawn," said Juliet as she picked her shots.

Shawn was sitting on the floor of the backseat trying to peek through the tiny gap between the front seats. He could make out two men leaning over the Buick, one at the hood and one at the trunk. They were the thugs Lassie had mentioned. The side mirror near Juliet's head exploded. Juliet fell backwards out of Shawn's view.

"Juliet!" he yelled.

He scooted over to the door and looked out the window. Juliet was pushing herself off of her rear and getting back into position, checking her clip while she was at it. A bullet tore through the windshield and nicked the top of the front seats where Shawn's head had been moments before. Gus screamed. Shawn could feel his eyes popping out of his head. They had to do something, this wasn't going well.

"Gus! Put the car in gear!"

"What! No way Shawn!"

"Gus we're getting swiss-cheesed here! We need to engage ramming mode!"

"Are you crazy?" yelled Gus as Juliet began firing again.

"Yes, I'm crazy about avoiding additional holes in my person. I almost had a new part in my hair, dammit. We have to change the equation!" Shawn peered through the gap between the door and the front seat.

"Go for it! Backup should be here any second," yelled Juliet as she fired. She hit the trunk of the car near the tattooed guy's arm. The guy yelped and fell backwards. Shawn thought he might've seen a splash of red too. Hopefully she'd winged him

"Come on, Gus, just reach up and put it in drive, then lean over and push the gas. You don't have to get above the dash," encouraged Shawn.

Gus let out a growl of frustration. "I hate you Shawn," he said as he leaned over and reached for the gear shift.

"Get ready, Jules!" yelled Shawn. "You can bring up the rear and mop up after the havoc we meek!"

"It's 'wreak' Shawn, not 'meek'!" groused Gus. "And don't you DARE say you've heard it both ways." He pulled the gear shift into drive and then leaned on his belly to reach around for the gas pedal. "Are you ready, Juliet?"

"Ready," she said, hunkering down and getting ready for her cover to move.

Gus pushed on the pedal and the car started accelerating towards the Buick. Shawn heard one of the thugs let out a yell. Juliet fell back and Shawn could see that she'd moved around to run behind the car.

"Faster, Gus!"

"You must be out of your damn mind!"

When the cars were only twenty feet or so away, Shawn bellowed, "Brace yourself! Impact!"

And then they T-boned the Buick. Shawn felt like his face was going to meld with the pleather seat as they hit. Gus screamed again. After the collision, Shawn fell backwards, the small of his back bent over the seat while his legs ended up in a painful pretzel pose on the floor. He was going to be feeling this little adventure for a few days, he thought ruefully. He could hear Juliet yelling and the sound of sirens, but the gunfire had stopped. He pulled himself up to throw a cautious glance over the seat. Juliet was on the other side of the Buick aiming her gun towards the ground where he couldn't see and yelling various "freeze" and "stay down" instructions at the thugs. The backup units had pulled up and several uniforms were rushing to help her.

"We're good, Gus. You can come out now," said Shawn as he pulled himself up onto the seat and rubbed at his left shoulder where he'd been tossed into the door.

Gus groaned. "I think I'm stuck," he said ruefully.

Shawn leaned forward and looked down at his friend. He'd been shoved under the dashboard almost unbelievably far. "Dude, you're in the engine."

"Really, Shawn? I wonder why."

"Hang on, buddy," said Shawn as he climbed across the seat and got out of the car. He opened the passenger door and leaned in, scanning his friend. He saw that one of the back loops of Gus's pants had snagged on something on the underbelly of the dash. Shawn reached in and tried to pry the loop off of the metal it had hooked onto, but the weight of his body was causing too much resistance. Shawn leaned in further and brought his other hand in, one on the metal hook and one on Gus's pant loop. "Lift your butt, man."

There was a sound of a throat being cleared behind him. "Are you guys okay?" asked Juliet. "Or do you need some private time?"

Gus raised his head and banged it on the dashboard. "Shawn!"

"Well it's stuck! Do you want me to rip the loop off your pants?"

"No way, these are $200 pants, Shawn."

"They are not. Now just lift...a...little...bit..." he finally pushed the loop off of the metal piece and Gus was free. Shawn sat back with a sigh and looked sheepishly up at Juliet. "Oh hey there, Jules. Fancy meeting you here."

A faint smile flickered on her face but then it turned into a grimace. "We have to go," she said, anxiety clouding her features again.

Shawn nodded. "Can we take this car now?" The engine had stalled after their impact and he wasn't sure it would run again with the abuse it had taken.

"Let's take a squad car. Come on."

oOoOoOoO

Lassiter felt like an elephant had stepped on his head, and he tried to remember why he would've been around an elephant. Had they gotten a call for a circus crime? He didn't have an extreme hatred of clowns like some people, but he had to admit they could be quite creepy. Same with those bearded ladies, really what the hell? His drifting thoughts shifted towards focus then and he realized something was wrong. Something had gone wrong. His eyes were closed. Am I sleeping? Did I go on a bender? He remembered being in a bar. Maybe he'd finally been able to drink himself to oblivion over Lisa's... Everything came back to him then. He drew in a hissing breath and opened his eyes only to close them again immediately as the light sent a spike of pain straight to his core. He groaned. Someone made a mumbling noise. He tried to take stock of his condition. His head felt like it had exploded, check. His back felt like he'd been run over by a car, check. His fingers worked, though, and his toes. He tried his eyes again, opening them in the barest of slits until he could get used to the light. He tried moving his arms. His right arm was free and lying on the floor in front of him, but his left was trapped. He was lying on his left shoulder but rolled mostly onto his stomach so he couldn't move his arm. He opened his eyes a little further. He could see a woman's feet on the floor nearby and he remembered Gina North.

He blinked as his eyes finally tolerated the light and tried moving his head. A fireworks display went off in his vision that might've been pretty to watch if it didn't make him feel like immediately throwing up. He squeezed his eyes shut again, grimacing, and took a few deep breaths to fight back the nausea. Gina mumbled again against her gag. He listened, trying to decipher her "words." She seemed desperate to get her idea across. Then another thought struck him. He could only hear her, and didn't hear Riley or Braden or Tattoo. He opened his eyes again, pushing back the pain and discomfort to focus on a possible chance at escape. He put his right hand on the floor and pushed himself onto his side, feeling the wall against his back. The room slipped and rolled around him like an amusement park ride. He clamped his mouth shut and breathed quickly through his nose as he flicked his eyes around the room. They were alone.

He looked at Gina and saw a look of desperate hope, which caused him a small shock of surprise. The last time he'd seen this woman, she had slapped him. He'd felt the waves of grief-fueled hatred she'd thrown at him. And now she was looking at him with hope. He prayed it wasn't a false hope. He took another deep breath and tried to pull his left elbow underneath himself, then he put his numb left hand on the floor and pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall. He made it and paid for it with a wave of dizziness that threatened to send him back to the ground. He leaned back against the wall with his head back and eyes closed, focusing on his breathing for a moment. He had to hurry, though. There was no telling when Riley or the thug would return. He forced his eyes open and gritted his teeth. Gina was mumbling again, and he thought she was encouraging him. Must be the concussion making me imagine things. He looked around the room and saw the back door. If he could get Gina free, she might be able to escape. He looked at her again and saw that she was bound with duct tape.

Taking another steadying breath, he pushed off and leaned forward, pulling his knees underneath him. His head split into two pieces. He leaned on his hands and knees and gasped. The pain felt like a tangible presence in the room, like a force pushing through him from the inside out. He raised his right hand to his head almost involuntarily, as if to push the two halves back together. When he touched his face and head he felt the stickiness, pulling back to see the red on his fingers. Not good. He was running out of time in so many ways. He started to crawl towards the chair as if crawling through a minefield, explosions going off every time his head was jostled. He reached the chair and pulled himself up onto his knees next to it, picking at the duct tape around Gina's right wrist.

"Hang on," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Her hand flapped up and down and she tried to wriggle her arm to help loosen her binds. He had to keep his eyes on the tape, focusing on the task at hand, because otherwise he was pretty sure he'd puke. The edges of his vision seemed to have a strange dark fuzziness. He swallowed thickly and kept pulling at the sticky silver material, trying to get a tear going. His fingers felt oddly weak and he had to will strength into them. The tape had been rolled around her wrist two or three times, and it was hard to pick through. After a few moments he got a tear going and pulled harder at it. He felt his nausea ease and his head seemed to clear marginally. As he pulled at the ripping tape he noticed the cut on Gina's arm. It was several inches long and would need stitches.

"Don't pull too hard. That's a nasty cut on your arm, you'll make it worse," he said as he made the last couple of tugs to get her wrist free.

"Mmmph."

He looked up and saw tears on her face. He reached across her to help with the left wrist. She was already picking at it desperately with her freed hand. "Just hang on," he said. "Hang in there."

The tape came away more quickly with an extra hand. Lassiter let her finish it off and leaned over to start on the tape around her ankles. A swarm of spots invaded his vision and he had to pause, taking a few deep breaths to get through the spell. Gina was pulling at the tape on her face, grunting and desperate to get the gag out of her mouth.

"Oh god," she gasped when she'd finally ripped the tape free. "I'm so sorry."

He blinked away the last of the spots and squinted up at her, incredulous. "What?"

"I'm sorry they've done this," she said, face twisted in anguish. "I heard what he did."

"Let's just get you out of here," he said, feeling the jab of his own anguish responding to hers by trying to split his head open again.

They heard voices on the stairs. "Oh god," she gasped, leaning over to rip wildly at her taped ankles.

Lassiter realized she wouldn't get free in time. Riley's voice was getting louder and he could hear their footfalls on the steps. He looked around for a weapon, wincing at the movement of his head. Nothing was close.

"Come on, dad, let's just leave. We can start over somewhere else. Just stop all of this, please!" said Braden as their voices approached the bottom of the steps and the opening to the room.

"I'm not done, Braden, and you're not done, so stop whining at me, dammit," said Riley.

"You got your revenge! They're going after his partner now too, what more do you need?"

Lassiter's heart felt like it leapt out of his chest at those words. His guns. They'd probably taken his guns, and they'd gone after Juliet with them. He put his hands on the armrest of the chair and pushed himself to his feet, jaw set. Pain shot down his back and he closed his eyes for a steadying moment. No no no no. I can't let that happen. That won't happen. He felt an odd sensation, as if something was eclipsing his whole being. The pain and dizziness and despair were pushed aside as a single need took over. Stop them. He would stop them. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, ready to spring at whoever came through the opening first. He was going to stop this, with only his bare hands if he had to.

"You can't fight him," hissed Gina, apparently sensing his intention. "They're already gone. Help me get loose."

Riley's' voice rang out closer. "You still need to get your revenge, Braden. I told you. I can't trust you anymore until you do this."

"Dad I'll go with you. I'll do anything else, but I can't do that. I just can't."

Riley came through the opening from the stairway. His face was a mess of blood and tape, and two wads of cloth were sticking out of his nostrils. He had apparently tried to apply a makeshift splint to his nose with Braden's help.

"Shit!" He froze just inside the room at the sight of Lassiter. Braden stepped into view behind him with wide eyes.

Lassiter lunged, feeling oddly detached from himself, focusing only on doing damage. He tried to swing at Riley's head, smash his nose in again, but the other man somehow moved more quickly, ducking aside and grabbing at Lassiter's arms, tying them up. They grappled for a moment as Braden jumped off to the side and Gina continued to pull at the tape on her ankles. Lassiter could see the gun tucked into the front of Riley's jeans, but he couldn't free his arms. He struggled, feeling the overwhelming desire to fight being undercut by his injuries. His heart started to ache as he grunted and tried to pull his arms from Riley's grip. "If she's hurt I'm going to rip your head off," he growled, despairing at the emptiness of the words even as he spoke them.

Riley's face was twisted and grotesque looking from damage and black fury. "I think it's time to put you down for good," he said. Then he pulled his right arm back and threw a quick, hard punch to Lassiter's gut.

Lassiter's rage-fueled energy disappeared with his breath and he collapsed to his knees, the world swirling around him in a vortex of airless pain. I failed again. I can't save her. I can't save anyone. Sommer, Lisa, Juliet, even Braden. I failed them. He waited on hands and knees for breath to return or for a death blow from Riley, whichever was going to come first. He waited. The vortex broke up into images and sounds that his brain could again decipher. He drew in a thin, painful breath.

"You're a monster! When did you become such a monster?" screamed Gina, one ankle still taped to the chair. She was standing up and trying to pound on Riley's back with her fists as he stood over Lassiter. He had the knife in his hand, the three-inch blade open. He turned and shoved her so that she sat heavily in the chair again.

"Shut your mouth," he said, turning to brandish the knife in her face. "You're the cause of all of this."

"Is it drugs? You're doing more drugs? Oh god, Braden, tell me you're not doing them too," she said, ignoring the knife as she looked at her son.

Braden shook his head.

"Stop talking to him, bitch," yelled Riley. "You already messed him up beyond repair. I can't believe he's my son." He turned and stalked towards Braden with the knife still raised. "You're so damned gutless. I think you must not really be my son."

Braden's face twisted with pain. "Stop it!"

"Show me, then," he said, pulling the gun out of his waistband and pushing it into Braden's hands. "Shoot that cop. Or I'll know you're not my son. Shoot him or I'll know you didn't love your little brother."

"Riley you're insane. I don't know how I ever loved you, dammit," cried Gina. "But you got my baby killed and now look at what you're doing. Just look!"

Riley whipped around to face her again, his face a mask of pure hatred. Lassiter sat back on his heels as his breathing returned, blinking through the swirling spots of his vision as he tried to remain conscious. He was kneeling on the floor to Gina's right and a little in front of the chair. He could see the drug-fueled frenzy in Riley's eyes. He's going to kill her. He pulled one foot up so that he was on one knee as time seemed to slow in front of him. Gina stood up again, screaming something at Riley. His face hardened with determination and his eyes shone. Lassiter saw his right hand with the knife pull back as he took a step towards her. He started to swing his arm forward with an underhanded thrust. Lassiter pushed up to his feet. He grabbed at Gina with his left hand, pulling hard on her to try to yank her out of the way as well as to help get himself upright. She screamed as she lost her balance and fell partway back into the chair which then tipped over, landing her on the floor on her right side. Lassiter continued his upward momentum, meeting Riley's forward progress and putting his right hand out to try to push Riley's knife-hand away.

They came together and Riley put his left hand on Lassiter's shoulder and shoved. Their momentum spun them towards the edge of the room. Riley kept driving until he body-slammed Lassiter up against the wall hard. There was pain. A whole new dimension of pain, suddenly. It felt like something alive and frenzied. It was at once the most significant part of his being, everything else eclipsed. He looked down and saw Riley's hand move away, revealing the knife hilt. It jutted out from just underneath his ribs on his left side. He was pinned, like a bug in some museum display. He knew the knife wasn't long enough to go all the way through his body, but it felt like it was. It felt like the world had suddenly collapsed in on itself to occupy that one point of utter and profound pain, like a black hole sucking away his existence.

He felt Riley holding him up against the wall and saying something, but his words didn't register. He could sense his triumphant sneer, but he didn't look at him. His eyes could only look at the hilt. His hands found it, finally, tentatively, and he tried to cradle it like it was suddenly the most precious thing in his life. Blood was flowing around it. He pushed his hands against his body, fingers surrounding the knife, and watched as they slowly started to turn red. He didn't feel his legs giving way as he slid down the wall after Riley released him. Suddenly he was just sitting on the floor, head bowed over the overwhelming clarity of pain protruding from his core. For a few dark moments, the only idea he could articulate to himself was: I tried. I'm sorry.

After a strange eternity, he realized he was still aware of things outside of himself, voices and movement, though they were jumbled and dark and made no sense. After another eon, he understood that his eyes were closed. He kept waiting for his life to fade away. He desired it, actually. Oblivion. Epochs slipped along, but somehow he was still pinned to the world. It figured that the oblivion wouldn't grant him relief. He felt a sudden surge of indignation and opened his eyes. The hilt looked like an abomination. It angered him further. He felt his breathing quicken slightly and wondered that he could breathe at all with the knife inside him. It had apparently missed his lung. He thought about pulling it out but thought maybe he shouldn't. He didn't have the strength anyway. He looked at his bloody hands and felt a frisson run down his spine as if a circle had been completed. A tear fell onto his thumb and made a streak through the blood, cleaning a tiny bit of it away.

The transcendent reality of pain retracted like a balloon slowly deflating. He was still pinned and achingly afraid to move, but his brain was registering the world more clearly again. First came the sound of screaming. Riley and Braden were arguing. Apparently, shockingly, only a minute or two had passed since he'd been stabbed. He took a risk and started to tentatively raise his head. The movement didn't add too much pain so he continued until he could see the room. Riley was advancing on Braden menacingly, berating him, goading him. Braden was screaming back, face streaked with tears as he tried to brandish the gun at his father. Lassiter could see Gina straining to rip the tape from her other ankle from her awkward position on the floor, tears running down her face as it twisted in anguish. Her eyes found Lassiter and widened with shock. Apparently he wasn't the only one surprised that he was still alive.

Riley pushed at Braden and yelled, "You're useless. You won't shoot me, you useless little piece of shit."

Braden kicked out at Riley and then pulled the gun up, arms shaking, aiming at his father's chest. "I will, you asshole. I will!"

Riley stepped back and held his arms out to his sides with a sneer. "Do it then. Do it or I'm going to kill your mother while you watch, and then I'm going to kill you."

Braden straightened his arms and set his jaw. Gina watched her son, frozen with horror.

Lassiter looked at the scared kid, gun shaking in his grip, desperate for a way out. Desperate for someone to save him. Trapped and thinking that his only way to escape was to fire his weapon. He saw Justin again, and remembered what he'd yelled at him before he'd shot him, before the kid had fired on his partner and his reflexes had taken over. He hadn't saved Justin, couldn't stop him from making a mistake that would ruin his life, but he could still save Braden.

"Don't shoot," said Lassiter. Braden and Riley both looked at him in shock. He drew in shallow breaths, puffing them out again, struggling with the effort of speech. "Don't, Braden," he managed to speak again. "Don't shoot."

Braden met Lassiter's eyes and blinked, lowering the weapon, a sense of hopeful relief in his gaze. Riley's eyes hardened and he started to move towards his son. The back door was wrenched open at the same time a loud banging sound came from the front room as the front door was busted inwards. Juliet rushed into the room along with Buzz and what seemed to be a sea of uniformed officers. More flooded in from the front. There was a sudden cacophony of yelling. Braden dropped the gun and raised his hands instantly. Riley's eyes went wild with fury. He tried to lash out, but Buzz tackled him to the ground. Juliet turned her gun on Braden and then lowered it. Her eyes swung around further and landed on Lassiter, widening in horror.

"Carlton!" she gasped as she holstered her weapon and ran to him, dropping to her knees at his side, her hands hovering above the hilt and her face twisting with anguish. She bellowed over her shoulder. "I need the medics here RIGHT NOW!"

"Hey, partner," he said, hearing his voice as if from a distance. He gazed at her, feeling the sweetest sense of relief he'd ever felt. She was okay. His partner was safe. She'd saved herself, of course. And he'd managed to save Gina. He'd also helped Braden after all. That was going to have to be good enough.

Juliet was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out the words anymore. She put her hands on his face, but her touch felt remote. He started to feel like he was floating on a raft in a pool, the room around him bobbing gently. The pain seemed to be receding. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't about to complain. His relief at seeing Juliet was like a warmth spreading through his whole body. It made him feel sleepy. He'd had a really long day. He figured he could take a rest now. He closed his eyes.

oOoOoOoO

Two days later, Juliet was sitting in the chair next to Lassiter's hospital bed, holding his hand. He still woke up disoriented, so she made sure he could always feel her hand in his first thing. She was relieved at the progress he was making, although he was going to be in the hospital for at least the rest of the week. The knife had punctured his small intestine but hadn't done any major damage otherwise. He'd had to undergo emergency surgery to fix the wound. It had taken several agonizing hours through which Shawn and Gus had been hard-pressed to keep her sane, she'd been so far gone with fatigue and stress by then.

At some point she'd collapsed on a waiting room couch and had finally slept with her two guards keeping watch, along with Chief Vick who had joined their vigil. She'd found upon waking that the surgery had gone well. The doctors were confident that they'd located and repaired all of the damage, and that he would recover with no lasting effects. He also had a concussion, but there had been no skull fracture, luckily. He was still asleep most of the time from the medications. The nurse told her that they would start cutting back on the drugs the next day, and that he'd be more alert when he was awake after that.

Juliet shifted in her seat and sighed. The chair wasn't the most comfortable thing. The next time she took a quick trip home, she told herself to remember a throw pillow to add some cushioning. And a blanket. The room got chilly sometimes. She might as well make herself at home, after all. Vick had given her a week's leave, and she was determined to spend as much of that time as possible in this room. She looked over at the book on the rolling table, not really feeling like reading but not sure what else to do with herself.

She looked at Lassiter again and shivered as she remembered her first sight of him sitting against the wall with the knife in his gut. She'd felt a stab of pain in her own gut, and a crushing fear in her chest. It was all of the blood. She was used to seeing blood, but not that much of it on her partner. The right side of his face and neck and upper part of his white shirt had all been stained with it. And then his stomach. His hands around the knife hilt. She remembered flashing back to the shooting scene when his hands had been that soaked in blood, but then it had been Justin North's. This time it was his own. She'd panicked, yelling for medics and yelling at Lassiter to stay with her. He'd just looked at her with relief and had said "Hey, partner" as if greeting her on a normal work morning. Then he'd smiled and closed his eyes. Shawn and Gus had come in with the paramedics and had helped her stand up to leave them room to work. She was pretty sure she would've fallen over if they hadn't been there to support her. She'd been so frightened that he was gone.

His fingers flexed and then squeezed her hand. She looked up and saw his eyes open. "Juliet?" he asked, blinking against the light in the room.

She stood up and leaned over so he could see her more easily. "I'm here, Carlton. Are you thirsty?"

She picked up the cup she already had prepared and held the straw up to his lips. He took a few sips and then leaned his head back, looking at her with hazy eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She smiled at his question. He asked it every time he woke up. "I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"I had the dream again," he said sadly, looking away up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." He'd been dreaming about Lisa, but he hadn't told her the details of the dream. She just knew it wasn't a pleasant one.

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days, now. You just need a few more days of rest and you're going to be fine."

"Have you been here the whole time?"

She'd told him that she'd gone out a few times, but his memory was still sketchy and she had to repeat things occasionally. "Most of it. I went out yesterday while you were sleeping," she said, then she hesitated, unsure about bringing up the topic. She didn't want to upset him, but she felt like he should know. "I talked to Lisa's parents."

He looked at her again, gaze sharper and full of guilt.

"It's okay, Carlton," she said. "I filled them in on the details of how and why it happened. I thought they should know." She felt her eyes starting to sting and tried to fight it back. She forced a smile instead.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," he said gruffly, looking away again. "It should've been me."

"Well, you were a little busy, you know, recovering from a stab wound," she said with what she knew was a failed attempt at levity. She sighed. "I wanted to do it. I...well...nevermind."

"You feel responsible," said Lassiter, finishing her thought. He grimaced. "You might feel responsible, but I'm the one responsible for what happened."

She sighed. "No, you aren't. And neither am I, okay? Riley North is the only one to blame for Lisa's death, and he's paying for it now. He will be for the rest of his life."

He shook his head, mouth set in a line, pain wrinkling the edges of his eyes.

She wanted to share the conversation with him, so that he could feel some of the relief she'd felt after talking to Lisa's parents. She'd found it so hard to forgive herself, and she knew he was being just as hard or harder on himself. He needed to forgive himself, though, to heal, and she was going to make sure he did that. "Her parents thanked me, Carlton, for telling them. They don't blame you, or me. They were happy to know that we caught Riley. And they told me that they would be praying for you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. She felt the sting in her eyes turning to tears, berating herself for pushing this on him too soon. "Oh god, Carlton, I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to let you get upset," she said with a hitch in her voice.

He looked at her then. "Don't cry, Juliet," he said.

Something about the way he said it made her tears flow faster. She choked back a sob, feeling suddenly embarrassed. She was still holding his left hand tightly, so he held up his right arm. She leaned over and put her face on his right shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her in a hug.

"It's okay," he said, patting her shoulder. "I'm okay."