Blizzard
5000 Word Challenge. Prompt: Blizzard.
Lassiter contemplates his views of his coworkers when they find themselves snowed into the police station for the weekend.
Total: 5350 words.
Lassiter decided that they were all crazy.
Not that he hadn't predetermined that, because as he'd been telling both the Chief and his mother for years now, they really were insane. Sure, being locked in the police station over the pre-Christmas weekend probably didn't help their sanity, but he didn't count that. They'd always been mere inches away from lunacy in his opinion. The only difference was that they somehow managed to go nuts at the same time, in the same place. And who had such luck to be the only level-headed individual amongst them? Well, Carlton Lassiter, of course.
He'd been subtly losing his mind over the past few days, as crime had been unusually slow, due to the drastic weather conditions consisting of snow piled up to your elbow and hail attacking the roofs of innocent homeowners - a new experience for the current generation of Santa Barbara inhabitants. In light of that, the usual bustle of the SBPD was more relaxed that Thursday evening. Relaxed, until the blizzard picked up and, in the cold winter night, the policemen sat idly at their desks and posts praying that it lightened up before closing time.
He recalled that night vividly; glancing at his watch, then at the masses huddled around the small television as they listened to the weatherman that gave only bad news; tapping his fingers on his desk furiously in an attempt to warm his hands, as the power was out and they were steps away from being frozen alive; raking his fingers through his hair as the prospect of staying overnight at the police station was growing more and more likely. Why that was so terrifying, he wasn't sure. Others had families and dates to go home to; he had no reason to leave, save for watering his plants and ignoring more calls from his sister who lately was unhappy with him for God-knew-what reason. It should have been easier to stay.
But it was Karen. It was Buzz, and O'hara, and good lord, Spencer and Guster! And... it was Karen.
He already had enough trouble keeping his eyes off her during the day, but at night? If they were spending the night at the station, who knew what would happen? For starters, she surely wouldn't sleep in her suit. Secondly, she'd get a look at post-restless-sleep Carlton, and for some strange reason, the thought embarrassed him. Apart from her own sleepless nights, thanks to her daughter, Iris, she always showed up to work dressed and prepared to a T. Her dependable presentability always astounded him, and to echo it with a bedhead and stubble in the morning would be so demeaning.
He didn't know if he felt at competition with the Chief, or hopeful to impress Karen, but either way, he could not spend the night at the SBPD. He just couldn't.
But somehow, amidst the determination not to spend another minute in that nuthouse, he ended up standing behind Karen at 2:14 A.M. and watching the TV crackle out more late misfortune. He sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead, consequently bumping his elbow against her back. She jumped a bit, as most females on the Force were quite alert and defensive, herself quite inclusive, and immediately turned around to face her offender, only to find it her head detective. He tried to play it off by scratching his neck, and when her eyes met his in challenge, he coughed out an apology and directed his attention to the television that he wasn't interested in. He hoped she didn't dwell on his mishap.
Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, as it did everyone else. "Attention, everyone!" she shouted with power he still didn't understand coming from a woman so short and... cute, almost. And he could blame that thought on her deep brown eyes.
Then, he realized that she was calling their attention. Oh Jesus, he remarked inwardly. It was just an accident. She doesn't need to alert everyone that I bumped up against her! God, I'm so fired...
"Listen up!" she ordered, stepping away from Carlton so that everyone could see her. He swallowed and clenched his fists, hoping his embarrassment was short-lived.
But she wasn't looking at him. "It appears that, with the intense blizzard outside, no one will be able to get in or out of the station for a while. The roads are closed, and in light of that, we've been told to remain indoors over the next 24 hours at least," she informed them all, relaxing and annoying Carlton at the same time. "So I suggest you settle in, find somewhere to sleep and get yourself situated. We'll be here for a while."
And upon that order, he had brought himself to his current situation: jacket and tie removed, clicking his pen endlessly as he stared into the darkening room lit only by a few closed candles placed strategically around the main hall, illuminating the faces of those around him. He saw them all; some sleeping, some staring, some doing paperwork, some on their phones, but all silent. It was strange to see the station so still, but calming, too. It gave him a chance to really look at people, which was rare, if you thought about it. He snatched up that opportunity while he had it. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do.
The first face he spotted was Guster. Burton stared at his cell phone, most likely reading the texts Spencer was sending him from across the room - the Chief had them separated for complaints of noise disrupting the sleep of others, and evidently, they couldn't keep away from each other cellularly either. Of course.
But Carlton didn't have to use his analytical detective skills to know that Guster was an open book. Probably a goody-goody since birth, but able to make something of himself if he'd only detach himself from the life-sucking, time-consuming black hole others affectionately called Shawn Spencer. He could be quite a decent human being when he wasn't influenced by the child-man he too often associated with, and because of that, Lassiter noted that he didn't really have major issues with him. Aside from the fact that he felt Gus was a ridiculous nickname and made him think of the morbidly-obese rodent that stalked that Cinderella chick, he wasn't a terrible acquaintance. In fact, if he could manage to guide him away from his idiotic friend, he'd tolerate the nickname and, possibly, enjoy his company. But that was an unlikely scenario.
Mere feet away sat O'hara, who was nodding off at her desk in a battle between sleep and Spencer. Every time she was about to fall asleep, Shawn made a noise and woke her. Upon waking, she usually shoved his shoulder and, once, threatened to have him arrested for harrassment. Lassiter had taken her seriously for a moment and moved for his cuffs, but knew that she was joking and, sadly, retired his gun to its holster with a sigh. One day.
As for his partner, there was nothing to analyze. He knew everything he needed to know about Juliet. She was a good detective, picked the wrong boyfriend, had a criminal brother, and resembled a bunny in regard to her facial features. He looked at her as a young, aspiring policewoman, hoping to make something of herself, something more than filing his paperwork and cuffing his baddies. It never occurred to him that she was happy where she was. He couldn't fathom being happy to be second-best. He always looked at his job as a placeholder, marking time until he became the chief of the department in the future. That had always been his goal - though now, he had difficulty in wishing away Chief Vick, so he was torn - so he expected hers to be of equal proportions. He never understood that she was proud of herself where she was, and, because of that, never quite respected her as she wished. He was waiting for her to earn his respect, when she thought she already had. There lay their misunderstandings.
Next to her stood Spencer, leaning against a wall and staring at his phone. He paused for a moment, then put his finger to his head and squinted, before the screen flashed at him. He must've been taking a picture, because seconds later, Gus looked up at him and whispered, "I'm right across from you, Shawn! I don't need a picture!"
"Quiet!" Carlton hissed, rolling his eyes. Those numbskulls were disrupting the peace once again, and their dispute was over a text message? He'd never understand, nor would he want to, what went on in their head... assuming that anything did happen in there. He was still doubtful.
When it came to Spencer, there was no story. It was clear he wasn't a psychic - for one thing, Carlton didn't believe in psychics and crystal balls and horoscopes. Anyone who did was just another hopeful, waiting for something supernatural to fix things for them and make the world easier so they didn't have to. Those people that wanted something to believe in, Carlton wasn't one of them. He'd learned a while ago that the only person to believe in and rely on was himself, and his dislike toward Spencer was partly due to that. But he digressed.
And as he stood by and watched, the SBPD was slowly falling under the illusion that Shawn was giving off. O'hara got caught up in it somehow, and he feared for her in that respect. When, not if, Shawn had to break the news to her that he was a big fat liar, she would be crushed, and being in an exclusive relationship with him wasn't going to help that. He didn't want her getting hurt, though he knew she was stepping into it from the beginning of their relationship. That was one reason he feared Spencer. He had too much influence over things, whether he had "powers" or not.
Woody, their more-than-eccentric coroner with a severe flirting issue in regard to the Chief, was wholeheartedly devoted to the "psychic", but there were stranger things he'd said and done, so Carlton hadn't put it past him. Along with him on the insanity bandwagon was Buzz McNabb, an idealistic rookie that would be up on the ladder if he wouldn't put his faith and trust in such ridiculous places. But that was his choice, and, like everyone else, he would pay for it.
There was, however, one person that wasn't buying in so easily, and it was one aspect of her that he admired. Chief Vick didn't appear to be too invested in Spencer's foolishness, but rather, his results. She wasn't charmed enough to refrain from firing him a time or two, and her disbelief in Shawn's shenanigans was Lassiter's last chance at having him fired, reigned in, or at least kept on a leash. He was grateful for that.
And once again, his mind had wandered to her. Karen was such an alluring and touchy topic that he found himself very confused at the thought of her. He knew he shouldn't think about her, but every day, his eyes managed to stray to her desk, and higher, and lower, and back to his own desk when he caught her brown eyes glancing at him. He knew he shouldn't, but he did. He wondered about her, about what she was thinking and what she was doing, and what she would be doing that evening, and the next, and wondering if she wondered about him, and wondering if she wondered if he wondered about her... He was basically caught between a rock and a hard place, and her. He couldn't decide what would be easier to face.
Now, he was looking at her again, through the open blinds of her office to the lamplit desk she pored over, elbows resting on the desktop and eyes locked on papers and files in piles that only seemed to be getting bigger every time he looked. With quick hands and mindlessly-moving lips, likely echoing what she was reading, she worked her way through another page of the stuff, signing statements and paying bills and whatnot. At 4:56 A.M., he'd been expecting her to start readying herself for sleep, but apparently, she had other plans, likely consisting of exhausting herself over meticulous work she should have done days ago, when she was instead dealing with an overwhelming crime rate and certain stressful consultants. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't actually invited into her office, and walking over there and knocking would attract a kind of attention neither of them needed.
But as the hour droned on and the clock introduced them to 5:00 A.M., he was growing... concerned for her. Normally, he assumed, her husband would keep her away from her work long enough to get some rest, but as far as his introspective eye could see, things were not good on the homefront, and the fact that she wasn't at home wasn't exactly killing her. He understood the feeling and could spot the signs. How she rarely received personal phone calls anymore, unless you counted the conversations that were obviously initiated by her daughter. He knew when she was talking to Iris; her eyes gave her away. She'd stare at her desk as she listened, mouth spreading into that beautiful smile she sported, and when it was her turn to speak, her eyes danced with her words. She seemed like the kind of parent that read bedtime stories, and scared off the boogie monster, and made chocolate milk rather than buying it, and butterfly-kissed, and... and was the kind of parent he wanted to be, believe it or not. Sure, he'd be an awkward mess making his first attempt at a lullaby, and he'd set up Santa's cookies and milk like a crime scene, and he'd never be able to explain away the fact that he shot people for a living, and he'd die before giving a child the "talk", but all in all, the idea of children never repulsed him. The thought of having imaginary tea alongside a teddy bear and hanging scribbles of red Crayon on the refrigerator time and time again, no matter how often they fell and were stepped on, was actually endearing to Carlton. He'd discussed it with his ex-wife years ago, and she adamantly refused. He still wondered, if he had married someone else, would he have been a father by then?
And when he looked at the mother across the hall chatting with her own child, he rolled the thought around in his head. If he had married someone like Karen, who would he be now? A proud father? A heartbroken single? Both?
But those thoughts aside, he was still worried about her. She needed rest if she was to oversee this department 24/7 for an indefinite amount of time, and that being the one thing she was depriving herself of, he knew someone would need to pull her out of her own head before day broke in a couple of hours. And by looking around, he could well determine that he was one of the few awake in the station, and respectively, one of the even fewer that wasn't afraid to speak with the Chief. It was up to him.
However, although he didn't fear the Chief's company, he didn't want to attract too much attention, and if he walked up and knocked on the glass door, all open eyes would be on him. He could have just entered, but that seemed rude and intrusive. So what was he to do?
But he remembered how Tweedledee and Tweedledum were communicating, almost silently, were it not for their obnoxious outbursts otherwise. He could always text message her, and none would be the wiser. Sure, it would be easier to be rejected that way, but better was rejection privately than publicly.
So he pulled out his phone quietly and opened it, digging around through his contacts for "Chief", finding it after some searching. He then proceeded to type:
Mind if I come in?
Trying not to sound too eager, he left it vague and sent it. Now, to stare at her until she reads it...
After what felt like hours but, in reality, was a few minutes, she glanced away from her work and at her phone, picking it up. She looked at the screen for a moment, raised an eyebrow, and looked up, out the window. Her eyes found his and, with a surprised expression, she nodded at him. He took that as invitation and stood up, catching the curious eyes of Shawn and Gus. Ignoring them, he trekked across the hallway and opened the door to the Chief's office, taking a breath before walking in.
After he entered, Shawn immediately texted Gus:
Did you see that?
Gus looked over at him, rolled his eyes, and replied:
Of course I did. Don't get all curious; he's probably just trying to get a raise or something.
Shawn shook his head and responded:
Didn't you see him text her?
Gus raised his eyebrows.
How could you know that? You're not ACTUALLY psychic, you know.
Gus, no need to go Caps-Lock on me. He was typing on his phone, then stared at her door for a fewminutes, then suddenly up and paid the Chief a visit. Don't you find that a bit odd?
Gus paused for a moment, then sighed.
You're not actually suggesting that he's in there because he wanted to see the Chief... personally?
Shawn shrugged.
Perfect time to move in - we're all stuck in here. It's not like she can run away.
Gus started to laugh, but stopped and grew serious.
That's unprofessional, and doesn't sound like Lassie. Though... it wouldn't hurt to observe.
Shawn faked shock.
Gus, surely you're not proposing that we spy on Lassie and the Chief!
But the two only had to share a look before creeping up to the window on either side of the office and peeking through the blinds at the only interesting thing that had happened that evening.
Karen looked up at the face entering her office and nodded. "Hello, Carlton."
"Hello, Chief," he returned the greeting, straightening his tie and stepping forward from the door only slightly. She blinked at him.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked quietly, glancing out the window behind him to check on the locked-down police station quickly. It was her job to oversee it, after all.
Lassiter paused, mouth going dry. He hadn't exactly planned what he would say to her yet. He probably should've done that before barging into her office. "Um..."
Glancing around for a chair, he found one next to the window and gestured to it. Karen raised her eyebrows but nodded her permission. He moved the chair toward the desk and sat down tentatively, not used to the one-on-one attention from the Chief. He made himself get over it and stated cautiously, "I noticed you were still awake."
She swallowed. "Yes," she answered simply, setting her pen on the table.
He took this as cue to continue. "Well, I was wondering-"
"Oh God, Carlton," she moaned, setting a hand on her forehead as she leaned her elbow on the desk. "Don't do it. Just don't."
He was taken aback at her response, not sure what he'd done to incite such a reaction. He was about to apologize, but she continued.
"If I had a dime for how many people have asked for raises tonight..." she sighed, reaching for her coffee. He realized what she was saying and sat up in his chair, holding up a hand.
"No, no..." he corrected her. "I'm not here for a raise. Although-"
"Carlton!"
"I'm sorry!" he apologized, growing serious. He leaned forward a bit and, after looking around, added, "I just wanted to ask why you're still awake."
She dropped, mouth agape. She obviously hadn't been expecting that.
He knew that if he was going to die on account of this conversation, nothing he said now would change it, so he finished. "It's getting late, and you've probably got a busy day tomorrow..."
She was still silent, so he allowed his voice to drift off, only able to hope he was allowed one phone call before she killed him. He had to cancel his carpet-cleaning appointment for next week, and if they showed up to an empty house, they'd raid his couch cushions for coins like last time. Over his dead body.
"Carlton, I appreciate your concern..."
He looked up at the unexpected response and found Karen's eyes sporting an unusual emotion, unsure if it was a good sign or not. Hopefully good.
She set down her coffee cup and looked at him seriously. "I have a lot of work to do. I would've done it all at home, anyway." She glanced back down at her work.
His question slipped out before he had a chance to stop it. "You don't have plans with your family?"
Her head jerked upward, caught off-guard. The question seemed to anger her. "That is the worst possible question you could've asked me right now, Carlton. And frankly, I don't see how that's your business."
"It was only a question," he replied, not missing a beat. "But it obviously struck a chord with you."
She was dumbstruck at his forwardness and blatant invasion of her privacy, but for some reason, she found herself answering him. "If you must know, things aren't exactly peachy at home." She saw his expression change and added, "And I didn't just say 'peachy'."
He feigned a smile at her correction, but stopped himself and remained stoic. "Well, if you need someone to talk to, I can't think of anyone with more experience."
"No offense, Carlton," she started, and he already knew he'd get offended. "But your marriage didn't turn out too well."
Feeling that like a slap across the face, he tensed up, preparing to leave. "That's fine-"
"Wait," she stopped him, setting a hand on his. An electric shock shot up his arm, but he ignored it and kept his eyes steely.
"I'm sorry," she exhaled, looking up into his eyes. "I guess it'd be nice to talk."
Carlton swallowed, surprised, but relaxed into his seat again. If she wanted to talk, he was willing to listen. So, careful not to say anything stupid, he began, "Alright. What's got things tense at home?"
She blinked at him, hesitating to respond. Finally, she spoke up.
"Well... My husband and I have always had this... understanding."
He raised his eyebrows, mouth running dry. He tugged at his collar awkwardly and muttered, "We can skip this..."
She held up a hand. "Let me finish." He silenced and looked up at her again, upon which she continued. "Since we got married, we acknowledged that we were both working people. He understood that I had odd hours, so when I get calls like yesterday..."
He knew what she was referring to; the day before, he, O'hara, and others including the Chief had been called in at 1:30 A.M. for a fresh body found in a Wal-Mart bathroom, and of all people, the mayor's sister! None of them had gotten sleep that night, and ended up finishing their night at the SBPD, sleepless and hopping on the next day without a break. The fact that they wouldn't get any rest the following night, either, wasn't promising. Someone was going to crash. But that was beside the point.
"... he knows not to wait up. No one gets upset."
Carlton nodded. "I don't see anything wrong with that."
"Neither did I," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "Until the 'no-questions-asked' policy got a little too quiet."
He leaned forward, suddenly interested. "What do you mean?"
Karen's eyes traveled up to his without her head, making her appear as ashamed or bashful. He wasn't sure what to make of such a foreign expression on the Chief, but he said nothing and listened. "Leading up to this past Tuesday," she sighed, "I've noticed some... troubling occurrences that led me to believe that he was not going exactly where he said he was."
He nodded, signaling her to continue.
"Well, after there had been too many signs to be a coincidence, I decided to ask him about it, and when I did, he got angry and wouldn't speak to me." She pressed two fingers to her forehead. "After that, I was suspicious, so I had my usual Tuesday meeting canceled and came home to find he was there with..."
Her voice broke off, and she looked away for a moment to collect herself. When she did, she finished.
"He was there with another woman," she exhaled, staring at her hands. "And let's just say, their activities were more than incriminating."
Taking in this information, he set his jaw and straightened up, hand resting on the inside of his jacket. Meeting her eyes seriously, he asked, "Should I shoot him?"
Karen's eyes widened, and she flew up in her seat. "No, Carlton!" she stopped him, hand in the air. Her reaction was so strong merely because she knew he would do it. "No, it's not... I'm hurt, but..."
As her voice trailed off, his heart sank in his chest. Seeing her so crushed and down in spirit, it was strange. He'd never seen it before, but he could safely decide that he hated it. He wanted to make it go away.
"I'll be fine," she finally decided, clasping her hands. "I just have to make it through the divorce and then-"
"You're getting a divorce?" he asked quickly, noticing the volume of his voice and cringing. Karen looked around at the windows nervously, but was relieved to find no one was listening.
"Of course, Carlton!" she whispered, leaning forward. "I mean, not immediately, but eventually, it's going to happen."
"You're not going to try to work it out?" he heard himself asking, though he didn't feel as if he was the person speaking. He didn't know what he was saying! Any man stupid enough to have cheated on Karen obviously didn't deserve her. It was clear that the man didn't love her like he... Well, the point was that she deserved better in a marriage. And were it not for both his past hurt breaking through and her evident love for the man, he would have agreed with her unquestionably. But his subconscious self came out to play and ended up saying the exact opposite of what he wanted to say. Perfect.
She seemed appalled at his question. "It turns out, he's been cheating on me for nearly a year. I can't trust him anymore. I have to break it off."
He should have taken her at her word, but he wasn't finished. He needed her to know what she was getting into, or he'd feel guilty when she realized it, herself. "Karen, I know it hurts. I know how it feels to lose someone even before you've physically lost them. It makes you want to run, to get away from the hurt immediately. But you have to give this some thought, for your sake, and for your daughter's, too."
His gentle tone combined with such genuine words had her awestruck and completely silent. She had never experienced this personal level with him, and of anyone else, she never expected Lassiter to be the understanding confidante she needed. It only proved the fact that the man was full of surprises.
"I'm not saying not to get a divorce, or not to stay with your husband. I'm just saying, be careful in how you deal with it. This is one of the best ways to get hurt, and I don't want you to have to live with any regret."
She frowned at his sincere concern. "I already live with regret, Carlton."
He frowned back, and set a cautious hand on hers. "Everyone does."
Karen wasn't sure if she was supposed to be relieved by that, but she guessed that was Lassiter's way of saying he'd been there, too. She could live with that.
She glanced down at their hands, his rough fingers grazing her gentler ones, bumping against the wedding ring that now glared at her like an angry scar, the only thing marking the space between the two people in that moment. She almost wondered if…
No.
She swallowed and retracted her hand, smiling politely at him. "Thank you, Carlton."
He furrowed his brow. "For?"
She shook her head. "Just... this. Talking to me."
He shrugged. "It was nothing. Just listening and giving advice. I'm really only bringing up what I would've done if-"
She sighed roughly at his rambling, and he stopped. After a moment of silence, he smiled slightly.
"You're welcome," he finally finished, nodding. She smiled again, as they shared a quiet stare. His eyes were very interesting, she decided. She could've swum in them...
And that must have been the sleep-deprivation talking. She needed to get some rest.
"Alright," she started upward, dusting herself off nervously. "I guess I ought to get some rest. Goodnight, Carlton."
He rose to his feet, nodding his farewells. "Goodnight, Chief."
And without another look, he turned and walked to the door, wondering how that went so well...
As Carlton made his way to the door, Shawn and Gus scrambled away from the window to their respective spots across the room. They'd escaped just as he was exiting, and as he closed the door gently behind him, they exchanged knowing looks before whipping out their cell phones.
Shawn immediately texted:
Told ya so, told ya so!
Gus replied,
No, you didn't! They were only talking.
Shawn shook his head at Gus.
Do not TELL ME you did not see their hands!
So? It's not like it meant anything. The Chief's married, Shawn!
Shawn saw Carlton watching him and smiled inconspicuously.
She's getting divorced.
Gus didn't miss a beat.
Shawn, Lassie isn't that smooth.
Shawn threw his hands up in confusion, but shoved them down when Jules was staring.
Are you insane? First, of course he isn't. B, she is obviously separated or in the process. She kept staring at her wedding ring the whole time!
Gus wasn't impressed.
That means she's getting a divorce? Maybe she just likes looking at it.
No, she doesn't. She wasn't looking at it like "Ooh, pretty diamond!" She was looking at it like she was regretful. Kind of like your dates always look after the unwise "second date" choice.
Gus made an offended expression, but shrugged it off.
Doesn't matter. Lassie didn't look like he was hanging around any longer than he had to. It was just a friendly conversation.
Shawn didn't agree, but Lassie and Jules were staring him down, so he put his phone away and leaned against the wall, knowing what he saw. They didn't call him psychic for nothing.
First of all; yes, a blizzard in Santa Barbara seems like a long shot. But that's the prompt I got, so deal with it.
I do enjoy writing these people. I worked on this over a week's span and found that Psych is a lotta fun :) And yes, I'm aware that my Lassivick is showing. Don't judge me!
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! It's reader's sin not to review, you know ;)
* *-TheSongbird341-* *
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Psych, any of these characters, or anything else you could possibly recognize. Just a fan.