musicalluna | 006 Break Away - One Hundred Reasons

Title: 006 Break Away - One Hundred Reasons
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Lassiter/Polly
Genre: Angst, Romance
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: One of my responses for my 100 themes collection revolving around Lassiter and Polly.
A/N: And for this prompt, you have Jenn1984 to thank for the idea.
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or it's characters.

He’s been sitting at the dining room table for almost an hour now, just staring.

The small packet of paper in front of him is all that’s needed to contain his biggest mistakes, his nastiest faults, and his worst failures all reported in dry lawyer mumbo jumbo.

Being the coward that he is, he refused to even acknowledge the papers when his wife had left them at the station for him almost six months ago. He’d sort of hoped that if he just ignored them, his wife would see the error of her ways and take it all back. Instead, he’d been officially served the papers four months later when she realized that he wasn’t going to accept them and finalize their divorce. Now it was inevitable and he was still putting it off.

He had a hard time wrapping his mind around what had gone wrong. She had listed demand after demand after demand, and he’d done his best to comply or to compromise, but nothing had helped. It was just—

A small, gentle hand moves to rest on his arm and he’s pulled out of his thoughts, looking up to see Polly watching him, gaze warm and sympathetic. She squeezes his arm lightly and he remembers just why he’s enduring this humiliation.

“Carlton, I love you. You know that,” she says, her hand squeezing his and he shifts uncomfortably, nodding, because he knows this is one of those talks. “But as long as you’re still married to her, as long as a part of you this large refuses to let her go, you can’t love me the same way. And I won’t subject myself, or you, to trying to lead a double life. If this is going to continue, you have to make the decision to let her go.”

It hurts to hear the pain in her voice when she tells him that he doesn’t love her the way she loves him. And even though he won’t admit it to himself, he knows she’s right. He doesn’t love her the way he loves his wife—yet. But he can, and he will, because Polly gives him the one thing his wife hasn’t in years.

Hope.

“All right,” he agrees, before he’s even sure of what he’s doing. “I’ll do it. I’ll sign the papers.”

Polly’s eyes get very glassy, but she manages not to cry, even as she leans forward and kisses him. “Thank you.”

He clears his throat, avoiding her gaze and mutters, “I do, Polly. I mean—love you.”

She squeezes his hand and smiles, the tears looking ever closer to spilling over. “I know.” She kisses his cheek and then his mouth again and turmoil of emotions rolling around in his gut eases a little.

“I’ll bring champagne,” she says and a feeble smile tugs at his lips.

Maybe it is worth celebrating.

The champagne is in an ice bucket on the table, the ice already half melted. It’s still unopened, waiting for the moment when he can screw up the courage and force down his pride.

All it takes is one signature. One signature and it’s like everything they had never happened. One signature and he’s officially given up.

Unofficially that moment was months ago. He’d finally realized that there was nothing more he could do to fix their marriage when they weren’t both working for it. It was the one thing he couldn’t fix by himself.

Just do it you idiot, he commands himself. There’s no saving it, and if you throw this away, so help me I will—

The threat is lost as he screws his face up, presses the pen to paper, and scrawls his signature across the dotted line, shoving the paper away as soon as it’s finished, disgusted with himself.

Before he has the chance to work up to a good heat however, two small, warm hands catch his face, and Polly’s lips, soft and inviting, are on his, chasing the dark thoughts away as she settles onto his lap.

She pulls away after a moment, her eyes sparkling at him and she whispers huskily, “Congratulations, Carlton.” She reaches behind her for the champagne bottle and he can’t help a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as she hands it to him so she can retrieve the glasses.

He pops the cork, laughing as champagne sprays them both and she grins, holding out the glasses for him to fill. When they each have a glass, she returns the bottle to the table, and he holds up his, a hand settled firmly on her lower back. “For you,” he says quietly.

“No,” she says, and smiles. “For us.”