Lassiter sipped his coffee as he surveyed the crime scene. The scene was fresh. The crime tape had only been put up in the past hour. The officers that had been first on the scene had written it off as a simple B&E, but after investigating the back room of the house they had discovered a body. It would take an official report from the lab about the fingerprint analysis, but the general consensus was that the body belonged to the homeowner, James Hubert. COD was still unknown as well, but Lassiter was pretty sure it had something to do with the pool of blood the body had been found lying in.

"Well that is a little gross." Shawn Spencer observed from behind Lassiter.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "It's blood and possibly part of his brain, of course it is gross."

"Normally this stuff is all cleaned up before I get let into a crime scene." Shawn pointed out. "It is a good thing Gus isn't here. If he were, he'd be contaminating the crime scene's bathroom right about now."

"Guster is out on his pharmaceutical route. You know that." Lassiter grumbled as he tried to take some mental notes of the crime scene.

"Well, yes, but I was just saying that it's pretty gross and he wouldn't like it."

"Detective," McNab called to Lassiter from the front door.

Lassiter glared at Spencer again before going to see what the rookie wanted.

"Detective O'Hara just took statements from the neighbors." McNab informed Lassiter. "I'll send you a copy of the statements from the men who were first on the scene."

Lassiter nodded. "As quickly as possible."

McNab nodded and then tilted his head to the side. "Are you doing alright, sir?"

Lassiter scowled at McNab. "I'm fine. Tell O'Hara I want copies of her reports as well."

Shawn followed Lassiter as he headed out to his car. "Man, Buzz sure looks funny making his clue face like that."

"What the hell is a clue face?" Lassiter snapped. "Never mind, I don't even want to know. Besides, there was no clue, I'm fine." He assured Spencer. "Now go find something childish to occupy your time, I have actual police work to do."

hcyspsych

Lassiter smiled slightly when he walked into the station. O'Hara's reports were sitting neatly on his desk waiting for him. His partner had been working hard recently. He supposed they all had, but O'Hara seemed to be throwing herself into her work more then she had before.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the neighbor's reports. No one had really heard anything. Time of death was around two in the afternoon. That was before school let out, but after the lunch hour when people might be home. One brave neighbor had ID'd the picture of the body. Mr. Hubert was not married, which meant there was no wife to call. Dobson had volunteered to call the next of kin, a cousin in San Diego. Which was fine. Lassiter didn't really want to deal with explaining to someone that their cousin had died.

"I bet he was stabbed by monkeys." Shawn said.

Lassiter jumped and saw the psychic sitting in the chair on the other side of Lassiter's desk.

"Or, and don't quote me on this. He could have been assassinated by John Wilkes Booth."

"John Wilkes Booth assassinated President Lincoln." Lassiter muttered.

"Well, then he was assassinated by a time traveling John Wilkes Booth."

"Please just go away. I have work to do and after that I want to shoot things." Lassiter rubbed his hands over his face and went back to his reports. Spencer didn't answer him and when Lassiter looked up again, the younger man was gone.

After two hours, Lassiter stretched and went to get some coffee.

"Detective Lassiter," Chief Vick's voice called to him as he passed her open office door.

Lassiter slowly walked through her door, knowing that his coffee would have to wait.

"Carlton, please have a seat." The chief motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

Lassiter inwardly groaned. When the chief called him by his first name and not his title, nothing good ever came of it. "Chief, can we make this quick? I have reports to finish up and then I was hoping to log some time at the range."

"Sit," Vick pointed to the chair again.

Lassiter sat and crossed his arms.

"Carlton, Officer McNab and Detective O'Hara came to me separately and voiced their concern."

"Noted. I work with caring people." Lassiter drawled.

Vick gave him a disapproving look. "Carlton, no one would blame you if you went to see the department psychiatrist. The accident threw us all for a loop. With everything we've been through together we just didn't expect it. We have all been through a lot lately and-"

"I am fine, chief." Lassiter cut her off.

"I know it has been hard for me. I can't imagine what you've had to deal with." The chief continued as if she hadn't heard his interruption. "McNab has mentioned more than once that you seem to be talking to yourself while at the crime scene."

"Spencer used to lick things at crime scenes and no one said he had to go seek psychiatric help, except for me." Lassiter protested. "I am fine, chief. It has just been a long day."

The chief gave him a doubtful look, but sighed. "You're right. I think it's time for you to head home, detective."

Lassiter stood, she was back to using his title, that was good. He was half way out the door when her voice stopped him again.

"Make sure you get some sleep. I can't afford to lose you too."

Lassiter nodded, but didn't turn back. He grabbed his jacket and his copies of the case files from his desk and headed out to his car.

"What'd the chief want?" Spencer asked as he followed Lassiter down the steps.

"None of your business," Lassiter grumbled at him.

"Well, if it was about me, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't and no you're not. You've never been sorry in your life." Lassiter fished in his pocket for his keys.

"That's not true! I was sorry when Justin Timberlake tried to bring sexy back." Shawn objected, coming around to Lassiter's left side.

Lassiter flung open the driver's side door and reflexively reached out to stop the door from going to far. He wasn't quick enough and the door opened all the way.

Instead of hitting Spencer in the stomach and knocking him to the ground, the door simply passed through the psychic as if he weren't there.

Shawn gave a smile. "That never gets old." He waved a hand through the frame of the door.

"You know that is really disturbing to watch." Lassiter's mood was not improving.

"I know, I know, you've told like a hundred bajillion times." Shawn laughed as Lassiter shut the door and started his car. "See you later Lassifrass." The psychic waved.

Lassiter shook his head and drove home. As much as he wanted to go fire off a half dozen rounds at the range, he knew if the chief saw him at the station again she would force him to go on vacation. She was already worried about him there was no need to push her over the edge.

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Lassiter trudged his way up his steps after parking in the garage. He flipped through his keyring trying to find the key to the front door. He was thinking about what the chief had said. The past couple months had been hard. The accident had been unforeseen. He supposed that's why they were called accidents. The chaos had started with The Phone Call. He always referred to it as The Phone Call to differentiate it from all other phone calls he'd ever had. It had been a bright sunny Thursday, just after lunch. Lassiter had eaten a turkey sandwich only a few seconds before the phone rang.

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Lassiter was starting to go through the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk. O'Hara was sitting at her desk across the way and was doing the exact same thing. They didn't have a case at the moment and were using the rare down time they had to work on their backlog. Lassiter had just opened the case report about the trip he'd taken to Vancouver when the phone rang.

"Carlton Lassiter," Lassiter greeted the person on the phone.

O'Hara listened and watched as her partner's face flickered with confusion.

"Wait, slow down, what?" Then Lassiter's jaw tightened and O'Hara knew something was wrong. "We'll be there as soon as possible." Lassiter said barely hanging up the phone before he stood and headed for the door, completely forgetting his jacket. "C'mon O'Hara. Spencer is in the hospital." He snapped.

By the time the detectives reached the hospital Shawn was gone. Henry was there to tell them.

Lassiter was trying to ask questions and console O'Hara at the same time. It hadn't been a crazy gunman, a bomb, or anything case related. It had been a careless driver. A van merged and hadn't seen the psychic on his motorcycle. It had been an accident.

hcyspsych

Lassiter gave a half hearted smirk as he found the right key and turned it in the lock. He tossed his jacket on the chair next to the door and the files on the kitchen table. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and some leftover pizza before sitting down at the table to go over the statements. He was half way through the statements when he finished his dinner, if you could really call it that.

"You really shouldn't have those here." Shawn's voice was back and so was the psychic. This time he was sitting on Lassiter's kitchen counter. "The chief wouldn't be happy if she knew you had those here." He nodded his head at the files.

Lassiter got up from the table and tossed his napkin in the trash. He ignored the psychic's comment and headed down the hall to his bed room.

"C'mon, Lassie, don't go off in a huff!" Shawn followed him down the hall.

When Lassiter got to his bedroom he shut the door.

Shawn walked through it shaking his head. "That hasn't worked once since I showed up. Why would you think that would work tonight?"

Lassiter turned to face him. He was dressed in his dress slacks and shirt. His tie had come off in the car on the way home and he had just toed off his shoes.

The past few months hadn't been kind to Lassiter. The stress levels were getting to him. The grey of his sideburns had been slowly creeping its way up through his scalp and he had a day's worth of stubble on his face.

"Damnit Spencer," Lassiter cursed. "Why are you here?"

Shawn shrugged. "Because you're the only one that can see me. Hanging out with anyone else just wouldn't be fun. Although I have to admit it is getting kind of frustrating."

"Frustrating?" Lassiter snapped, pulling too hard on his shirt and making a button pop off. It made a small tink as it hit the mirror across the room. "You think it's frustrating?" He didn't bother to retrieve the button and just tossed the shirt into a pile in the corner. "I had my whole life sorted out after you went and got hit by that van and then you showed up in the middle of my house. What did I do to deserve being haunted by you?" He pulled a t-shirt over his head and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the top of the hamper.

Spencer was leaning against the door. Lassiter could never figure out why he was able to walk through things, but sit or stand on them at other times. The younger man shrugged. "I don't know, Lassie. I just feel like I'm not done here." With that he turned and walked back through the closed door.

Lassiter shook his head and laid down on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about the first time Spencer had shown up.

hcyspsych

Lassiter had come home only because the chief had chased him out of the station after being there for 18 hours. He'd been going through his mail and turned around. If Lassiter had been a lesser man he probably would have screamed.

"Spencer?" Lassiter asked slowly putting down his mail. He reached out and tried to touch the psychic. He jumped back when his hand went right through him. "What the Hell?" He sank down into one of the cheap, uncomfortable kitchen chairs he'd gotten in the divorce settlement.

"Sorry about that Lassie," Spencer apologized. "I should have warned you about the not being all there thing." He waved a hand through the counter and grinned as it passed through.

Lassiter ran his hands over his face and then pinched himself when the psychic didn't disappear. "What? How? Why?" He asked, starting several sentences not knowing which one he wanted to ask first.

"Easy there Lassifrass, this isn't a fifth grade book report." Shawn said holding up his hands at the barrage of questions. "Firstly, I am in your kitchen. I've been here for two weeks. Apparently I'm some sort of ghost/spirit." He looked around. "I must say the place looks better then it did last year when I was here, although I had been pistol whipped at the time, so that might have had something to do with it."

"You've been here for two weeks?" There were so many parts of Spencer's explanation that Lassiter could have gravitated to, but for some reason that was the part that stuck out to him.

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, and you know, you probably should be home more. It is kind of relaxing here."

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Neither of them had been able to figure out what the psychic was doing in Lassiter's kitchen and why Lassiter was the only one that could see him. Lassiter sighed and rubbed his hands over his face hoping that sleep would come sooner rather than later.