Title: Losing Lassie

Author: Basset

Summary: Carlton Lassiter goes on a bust alone without calling backup and ends up getting hit in the head. He wakes up in a strange town, surrounded by even stranger people.

Genre: General/Romance

Paring(s): Shassie

Author's Note: I've seen a few stories where Shawn looses his memory, but none about Lassie. So I thought it was about time Lassiter got some amnesia.
And aren't plot bunnies evil? I've been trying to finish 'Stealing Pineapples', but I keep making new stories. So far I have this one, a series of oneshots, and one where 16 year old Shawn is tricked into going to cop camp and meets a certain rookie cop who likes fake mustaches.

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its characters.


This was supposed to have been a simple bust. Go in there with his gun, arrest the criminals, and be back to the station before anyone missed him.

To bad life never was that simple for Carlton Lassiter.

Take right now for example. At the moment the head Detective for the Santa Barbra Police Department was in a warehouse surrounded by the same criminals he had been intending on putting in handcuffs in less than 5 minutes. Turned out they had been expecting him. And they were armed.

For once in his life, Lassiter wished he had listened to Spencer. Sure, the man was a pain in the neck, but it probably would have been a good idea to call backup.

-Earlier that Day-

"What the hell Spencer?" Lassiter yelled as the 'psychic' jumped onto his desk, scattering his papers every-which-way. He really didn't need the younger man anywhere near him, for more than the usual reasons. Currently Lassiter had about 5 unsolved murder cases he had to work on, a robbery of a huge bank, and to top it all off, O'Hara was sick.

"Hello Lassie! I thought you might need a little psychic help, since Jules is sick and all. So I guess I'm going to be your partner today!" Spencer said, grinning and pushing a pile of papers off the detective's desk.

Growling under his breath Lassiter reached down to pick up the fallen papers. "Go hang out with Guster, I don't need your tomfoolery around today. I have enough on my plate already."

Chuckling Spencer stood up, knocking over yet another pile. "Lassie-face, did you seriously just say tomfoolery? You know I'm never going to let that down. And by saying you have a lot on your plate don't you mean you have 5 murder cases, three of which I have already solved, and a big robbery?" he asked, sitting down in the very comfortable chair that belonged to his favorite head detective. "Oh, and Gus has to work today. He totally ditched me, can you believe it?"

Rolling his eyes, Lassiter grabbed Spencer's arm and dragged him out of his chair. "Actually Spencer, as crazy as it seems, I can believe that someone would go to work to get away from you." he said, sitting down in his chair before the fake psychic could.

"Well, even if your going to be Mr. Grumpy Lassie-Pants today, the Chief said I'm your partner today. She said something about not trusting you to go out on a bust alone. So I guess your stuck with me." the younger of the two stated, turning around and dramatically falling onto Lassiter's lap. "Isn't this fun? We have the whole day to hang out!"

Lassiter couldn't believe it. Not only did he have a lot of work to do, now he had to deal with an annoying fake psychic who was sitting on his lap? "Get the hell off of me Spencer. And if we have to work together, sit over at O'Hara's desk." he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No can do Lassie, I'm going to need the spirits on this case, and they insist that I sit on your lap. I personally think they are very taken with you. But who wouldn't? I mean, your tall, have dark hair, and your handsome. I think you fit the description of a man every woman dreams of. Way better than Edward Cullen in my opinion. Can you believe how-"

"SHUT UP!" Lassiter roared, pushing Spencer off of his lap with as much force as he could muster. He must have pushed Spencer harder than he'd thought, because the young man fell down with a loud thud. Hearing the loud noise people looked over, but quickly went back to their work after a glare from Lassiter. How was he going to survive? It was hard enough having to consult with Spencer, but having him be his partner for a day? That was pure torture. "I don't give a damn whether the spirits find me attractive or not, or your opinions on Twilight. All I care about is you going over to that desk and filling out some paperwork."

For the first time ever, or so it seemed to Lassiter, Spencer glared at him. Actually glared at him. Slowly standing up the man brushed himself, not hiding the fact he was in a whole lot of pain. "Lassiter, why whenever I try to help you or do something nice do you always end up hurting me?" he asked before stalking off, wincing after every step.

The only thing Lassiter could do was watch the psychic walk off. He'd never felt like a bigger jerk before. But then again it was Spencer's fault for sitting on his lap. If the younger man hadn't decided to annoy the head detective he wouldn't have a bruised bottom.

(-About an Hour Later-)

After Spencer had left, Lassiter had finally gotten some work done. He'd been able to find out where the robbers he had been tracking were located. The information had actually come in from an anonymous source, but it had been proven true.

Grabbing his jacket Lassiter started out of the station. He didn't need anyone's help with this arrest, only two people were in involved, and the head detective could take care of that. Just as he had neared the doors Spencer stepped through them. The fake psychic seemed to have gotten over his attitude and was grinning the stupid grin that made Lassiter's heart flutter every time he saw it. Of course the detective passed it off as annoyance or heartburn, it didn't mean anything.

"Lassie-face! Where are you going?" Spencer asked, changing directions to follow the older man.

"I'm going to arrest two robbers." Lassiter replied, checking to make sure his gun was in its proper place before quickly walking down the steps of the police station.

Spencer continued to smile and follow Lassiter, always keeping one step behind the Irish cop. "Ooh, a bust. Can I come?"

Turning around Lassiter pinned Spencer up against the nearest wall. "No Spencer, you can't come. You're not a cop, this is not safe for you. So stay here." he muttered before turning back and walking over to his car.

"Lassie, you actually sound worried about me. That's kinda sweet. But if I can't come, just call backup. I don't want my favorite smoking hot detective to get hurt, kay?" Spencer asked, concern actually evident in his voice.

Rolling his eyes Lassiter opened his car door. "Ya, sure whatever Spencer. I think I can handle two unarmed robbers by myself." he muttered in a very annoyed tone. "Don't tell me how to do my job." he added harshly.

Again Spencer seemed incredibly hurt by the comment. The psychic waited until he couldn't see the black car anymore before whispering something darkly that sounded oddly like 'But Lassie-kinz, there are way more than 2 men in that warehouse. And they are most defiantly armed' under his breath.

-Present-

The group of men, about 7, were slowly closing in on Lassiter. The detective knew he was outnumbered and there was no way he could possibly get out alive, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to put up a good fight.

His gun was aimed, ready to fire, but it he never had the chance to fire any bullets. One of the men had crept up behind the detective and hit him over the head.

Carlton Lassiter, Santa Barbra's finest police detective, fell down into a crumpled heap on the cold warehouse floor.

One of the larger men walked over to Lassiter and searched through all of his pockets, trying to find any kind of identification. Looking up at the one who seemed to be in charge of the group, the man said in a deep voice, "He's clean Max, no identification at all. What should we do with him?"

After a few minutes of thinking Max sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Well, we don't want the police getting into this, so we can't kill him. I say we drop him off somewhere in another state in the middle of nowhere. Felix, I'm putting you in charge of that, don't mess up."

The smallest of the bunch nodded and proceeded to drag the limp Lassiter out the door and into one of the many trucks the group owned. A few minutes later an engine started

Max turned to the rest of the group and smiled. "Now, let's get back to business. How are we going to transport 15 million dollars anywhere without anyone getting suspicious?"


I'm sorry that Lassie actually did go down without a fight. I just didn't know what to write there.