"Shawn, you can still save Abigail!" she cried quickly, wincing as the phone was snatched away. She could only hope he had heard her, because she had told him to be honorable. Abigail was an innocent party who had been dragged into police business. Juliet was a cop—she could take care of herself. She heard Mr. Yin race back into the tower and leave her all alone, dangling from the edge. She didn't have to look at the clock to judge when help would come, because she knew that Shawn would go after Abigail. He wasn't going to let her get away again—Juliet had made sure of that. Of course, as was protocol, now that they knew there was a chance of saving the civilian Juliet would become second priority to the department, and she would be left to die—collateral damage—left to die, alone and cold.
When she had taken a job at the SBPD Juliet had known that her final day would most likely come sooner than later, but she hadn't imagined how it would feel. To know you were about to die—it made you cold. Body submerged in an ice bath, life blood running onto concrete kind of cold.
Juliet thought with a calculating calm about the moment 4:30 would strike. In a matter of minutes the hand of the clock would snap the thin wire holding her aloft, and she would fall. She could see looking down how her bones would shatter, just like the wood of the chair she sat on. If she was lucky, she would be able to angle her fall so she hit her head or broke her neck. That way, she wouldn't have to watch as her blood drained, slowly, leaving her cold.
The door behind her crashed open and Juliet could hear her partner's voice calling her name, a mantra laced with concern. Her ears strained to hear the voice of her favorite psychic, only to be met with emptiness where he should have been. Her heart dropped, her heart stricken—cold, ice cold.
But then she heard him—Gus. Gus wouldn't leave Shawn's side unless Shawn had specifically asked him to. Shawn cared! Juliet began to panic as she heard Gus yelling for Lassiter to do something. She knew with absolute certainty that it was 4:30 now, and that she was on the precipice, clinging to life. A strong wind gusted as if to remind her how high she was, how far she had to fall. It messed her hair and left her shivering—left her cold.
A crunching sound behind her let her know she was safe, but she still whimpered a little as she was released from her bindings and helped back to solid ground. She stood in awe, feeling the solidity of the ground beneath her feet. It was so real—so hard, and blessedly cold.
When Lassiter asks her how she is she wants to tell him, she really does. Unfortunately she can't find words to express what she's feeling, so she cries instead, and he lets her. When she thinks about it later she comes up with the perfect word to have used when she was speaking with Lassiter. Cold—she felt cold.
Gus tells her that Abigail has broken up with Shawn. He calls because he "thinks she should know." Juliet thanks him and hangs up, waiting for elation that never comes. Sure, she wants to be with Shawn. She would be lying if she said she didn't love him.
As she clutches at her chest to find relief from this unendurable pain, Juliet thinks about the call she had to make—more specifically, how she ended it. She had told herself it was because she was stronger than Abigail, and that it was her job to deal with crazy killers. She had told herself that Abigail had never signed up for this, and didn't deserve to die. While that may have been true Juliet suddenly knew the real reason that she had told Shawn he could save his girlfriend, effectively severing her chances of being saved—or so she had thought. It was because she loved him, and knew he loved Abigail. She hadn't wanted Shawn to feel like this.
Nobody deserved to feel the way she did—especially nice, happy, thoughtful Shawn. Because he was good. Because she loved him.
Because nobody deserved to feel so cold.