Rating: G
Notes: Spoilers for 6x16 Santabarbaratown. Episode tag. Written for older_not_dead Promptathon 09. One-shot, unrelated to any of my other Psych fic.
Prompt: ?. ?/?. The letter
Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.
Written: 5/2012
When Karen Vick returns to her office, as expected, there's a plain white envelope on her desk. "Karen" is written across the front in handwriting she's gotten used to reading over the last couple years. It'd be easy to throw it away, to pretend that like so many other things between them she never saw it. Never saw him looking at her, never saw Shawn's indiscretions, never saw the rules being bent, never saw him pretending he wasn't about to say something stupid after too many drinks at the Christmas party…
She knows what it says, his threat of retirement has been lingering for months – but not because Shawn's ready to fly on his own again, he isn't. And it's not because the force isn't what it was twenty years ago – things haven't changed nearly that much.
Karen –
So informal, the only way she's ever felt comfortable with him addressing her – when she hears 'Chief' out of his mouth it's usually something that's going to make her head hurt.
You know why I'm doing this; I don't have to tell you what's going on.
"My heart's not in it anymore," he'd said not twenty minutes before when he dropped the bomb on her, he was really throwing in the towel – giving up the only chance he was going to have at the career he left behind in the wake of his marriage falling apart twenty years ago. All she could say was' "You'll be missed." And he returned with a hollow; "Thanks for everything." Like a man who knows the line has been drawn.
I'm not in the game anymore.
Her hands are shaking and she sets it down on the desk and turns it over like it'll make it impossible to know what's coming next. Plausible deniability. If she doesn't read it, she'll never know that his heart was somewhere else – somewhere too close to be with the SBPD. "Damn it, Henry." She whispers to the emptiness of her office. After a long moment, the tremor stops and she returns to the last few lines.
I know things aren't what you want people to think they are. You're hurting.
She doesn't want it to be true, she doesn't want him to know and most of all she doesn't want him to be right.
I can be there for you, I want to be there for you. And I think you want it too.
And there it is, in black and white. He wouldn't just come out and say it, no. Not sober – not in the light of day even in a damn letter in that steady print that looks no different than the strong lines of his meticulous paperwork. When he says 'be there' he means it in a way that's enough to acknowledge they'd be crossing dangerous lines that could cost both of their jobs. "Oh, Henry…" she puts the paper down again and considers calling him – telling him in no uncertain terms his resignation was not accepted and that he'd better be back on Monday with a fresh box of doughnuts in the morning. But that would mean she doesn't even want to consider what he's suggesting – which would be a lie.
Love,
She doesn't doubt the word, doesn't doubt his motives or his desire. It's been a long time coming.
Henry.
When she sets it down again, she can hear the shouting in the hallway and looks up in time to see O'Hara pushing into her office; "O'Hara… is there a problem?"
"I think so, Shawn just ran down the hall yelling about his dad and Buzz found this form…"
Oh no, Henry…
