A/N: Ok. This is a product of me listening to "Fix You" by Coldplay on repeat, some really sad stories, and it being about one o'clock in the morning. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: (Woops! I haven't done many of these of late...) I don't own Psych.

Shawn slammed his glass on the cool counter, wordlessly motioning to the bartender for a refill.

It had been two months.

They were very carefully trying to infiltrate the grocery store.

Lassiter and Juliet were some feet ahead of him and Gus, so Shawn could see their every move.

Turner had taken hostages in the store at gunpoint. There were only 5 besides the man, and his negotiating time had run out.

Shawn watched Juliet as she paused just beside the door, holding her gun with a wary look on her face.

At a signal from Lassiter, she kicked down the door in an impressive maneuver, all the while shouting "SBPD!"

Shawn saw as Turner leaped out and grabbed Juliet, and suddenly, not heeding Gus's frantic whispered warnings, he sprinted for the doorway of the store. He had almost reached it when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist.

A voice was in his ear. Lassiter. "Careful Spencer! O'Hara..." And Shawn understood his meaning- they needed to be careful, not antagonize Turner any further, but somehow, even as Shawn recognized this, it didn't stop his struggles to get to the door.

"Get away!" came a manic scream. "Put your weapons down or she dies!" Turner was in full view now, holding Juliet in front of him with a gun placed at her temple.

Shawn drained another drink. He was getting dizzy, but the numbness he was feeling now was preferable to the continuous agony of the past two months.

His phone, set on the bar in front of him, vibrated. Shawn ignored it.

The dozen or so police officers did as they were asked, some leading hostages away- it seemed, in capturing Juliet, Turner had forgotten about the others.

Shawn found himself being dragged farther away from where Juliet was by the combined efforts of Lassiter and Gus.

"Let me leave. Don't follow me. Don't try to stop me." Turner's voice was growing louder as he yelled to all in the vicinity. "Do this- or I put a bullet in the blonde's pretty little head."

They could do nothing as Turner strode quickly to a nearby police car, dragging Juliet with him. It was to a chorus of yells that he opened the door, clearly intent on forcing her into the car with him.

Shawn's sharp eyes focused clearly on her expression- Juliet, instead of looking terrified, merely had a pale look of determination on her face.

Suddenly, Shawn knew what would happen before it did.

"Hard day at work, buddy?" drawled a voice belonging to a red-faced, clearly drunk old man. "How 'bout ya buy me a drink. Whaddya say?"

Shawn merely glared at the man until he had the sense to stumble off to another corner of the bar.

He sighed and set his head on the counter in front of him.

In spite of everything, Shawn couldn't help but be a little proud at the way Juliet fought back.

She whirled around, attempting to kick Turner in the crotch at the same time, but nothing could stop the man's reflexes.

A split second later, it seemed, Turner was driving away in the car as Juliet collapsed on to the ground.

Nothing could stop Shawn from running towards her, and both sets of arms around him, already slack with surprise, were shaken off.

Shawn could hear his phone again. It was probably Gus. He had been calling constantly.

Shawn reached out blindly and found his phone, fumbling until he was confident that it had been turned off.

Shawn sprinted over to her, and he was the first person there.

He rolled Juliet onto her back, and immediately saw an ugly hole in her stomach. Crimson blood was staining the white shirt she had worn that day.

"Jules it's okay! We're gonna get help- it'll be okay." He found himself repeating the same reassurances several times, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

Juliet's face was a horrible sight. There was dirt and a scrape that ran the length of her cheek from her fall. Blood was leaking out of the side of her mouth, a gruesome pinkish foam crusting the corner of it. Her eyes were horrified, tears pouring down her face, and when Shawn looked into them, he could see Juliet's pain and terror, her hopelessness.

Sometimes Shawn hated his memory. There wasn't a day that had gone by in the past months when he hadn't seen her face in her mind, recalled in crystalline detail. There wasn't a week when he hadn't replayed the whole gruesome scene in his head, every aspect perfectly recalled.

Tears were beginning to leak out of the corners of his eyes as Shawn ordered another drink.

"Jules, don't give up," he murmured. "Lassie is calling an ambulance as we speak, you'll be fine."

She shook her head wordlessly. "Shawn..." she said her voice barely above a whisper. "I love you..."

But Shawn was not one to give up. "No Jules, no! Do not give up on me! Don't you dare!" His voice had risen to a desperate yell, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of their audience.

Shawn pressed his lips against hers, firmly, desperately. But it was wrong. Wrong because he could feel Juliet's body against his, feel the warm blood that was coating both of them now. Wrong because of her lips, the metallic taste of her blood that filled Shawn's mouth.

"Don't leave me," Shawn whispered fiercely. "Not like this." He pressed his lips against hers again, trying to give her something to hold onto. Yet, Juliet's eyes were closing. Her lips barely moved as she breathed, "I'm sorry...I love you Shawn.."

Shawn raised his head, and motioned for another drink, but this time, the bartender hesitated. "I don't know man, you've already had a couple too many..."

Some of the desperation and agony must have shown in Shawn's expression, because, after seeing his face, the bartender didn't protest.

Shawn was openly sobbing, his face wet as he murmured back, "No, Juliet no! Jules, hold on. You can't die!" He gasped for breath. "Don't leave me Jules... I can't... I can't... I love you! You can't die, you can't!" But nothing he could say would change the inevitable, and soon, Juliet's eyes drifted shut.

It had been two months.

Juliet, his Juliet, was gone. Pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. They couldn't do anything.

It had been two months, but Shawn could still perfectly remember the day she had died.

It had been two months and still, still, every single freaking morning he felt the same agony that he had felt every day since Juliet had died.

Shawn was crying as he finished his drink and got another.

The agony was unbearable as he could only see the same scene repeatedly, see Juliet's broken body, as he heard the same voice over and over- Juliet's telling Shawn she loved him.

It never got any easier.