AN: I started this story about six months ago and posted it under the same title. I got bogged down in the plot, so I pulled it from the archive, reworked my story and am really excited with how it turned out. Hope you guys like it too.
OoO OoO OoO
OoO OoO OoO
OoO OoO OoO
"How amazing is the color on this thing?" Shawn asked Gus, shoving the brightly colored contents of his smoothie cup under his best friend's nose. "I mean, Picasso himself couldn't have made a better color."
"It looks more like a Jackson Pollack." Gus wrinkled his nose. "Why did you let the girl convince you to put kiwi and oranges in it?"
"Because, Gus, it tastes amazing." Shawn took a long sip and then cocked his head to the side as he stared at the crime scene in front of them. "Besides, you know how much it irritates Lassie when I drink smoothies at the crime scene." He grinned and headed for the taped off entrance to the candy store, completely missing the confused look on his friend's face.
Shawn ducked under the tape and looked around. The cops were rounding up witnesses and evidence. Juliet had called the Psych office asking Shawn to come down a do a reading at the scene. The cash register was open, the clerk was lying on the floor behind the counter, shot in the chest.
"The call came in around 10:30," Juliet came over to them, notebook in hand. "The only witness was the other worker, but he was in the back when the robber came in."
Shawn frowned, looking at the security cameras and then to the cash drawer. Something was off, but Shawn couldn't quite place his finger on it. Then he noticed the blood spatter across the register keys, but not the inside of the drawer itself. He smirked and raised a hand to his temple.
"The drawer was opened after poor Charlie here was shot." He intoned.
"The victim's name is Anthony Riley," another female voice interrupted.
Shawn's eyes snapped open and he swiveled on the spot. "Detective Barry?" The last Shawn knew, Barry was working in Sacramento, and they were nowhere close to being in her jurisdiction.
"That's Head Detective Barry," she corrected him, crossing her arms. "Now what makes you think the drawer was opened after the shooting?"
"George Washington is telling me that he never saw blood." Shawn brushed off her question, more concerned with the fact she was there in the first place. "What are you doing here?"
Barry raised an eyebrow. "I work here, Spencer."
"Shawn," Gus whispered, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "Don't push it."
"No, I mean what are you doing here, where's Lassie? Is he sick?"
"Lassie is probably saving Timmy from a well," Barry was getting visibly frustrated. "Now either give us a suspect or get the hell out of my crime scene."
"You're looking for someone who would have known how to open the drawer, try the kid from the back." Shawn told her. "And don't bother with the camera because it isn't even hooked up." He kept looking around the crime scene. "Now that you have your suspect, can you tell me why no one told me it was play a joke at work day?"
Gus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the crime tape. "Shawn, do not get us kicked out of the crime scene again." He hissed.
"Hey, c'mon, what's with the iron grip?" Shawn pulled out of the hold Gus had on his arm.
"I'm serious, Shawn, the last time you caused a ruckus Barry wouldn't let the chief call us for two months. You know we have to pay the bills."
"You are the worst liar ever!" Shawn shook his head. "Plus, I can't believe you got Barry to agree to be part of this elaborate hoax. Is this because I super glued Lassie's desk drawer shut yesterday and swapped the salt and sugar packets the day before?"
"Practical joke?" Gus looked confused. "Shawn, you're being weird," he pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Do you want a ride to the office or can I just head out on my route now?"
"I thought we were going goofy golfing?" Shawn frowned.
"This weekend, I just got a bunch of new samples in." Gus promised.
"Fine, go peddle your creams and ointments," Shawn snapped. "See if I care that you and Lassie are the worst joke players in the world. This tops the time that you changed all the clocks in my house trying to convince me I'd traveled to Europe."
"That was in the fourth grade," Gus snapped back, frustrated. "Just go watch TV or something."
"You can't tell me what to do!" Shawn shouted after him as Gus pulled out of the parking lot. "See if I care," he grumbled, sipping his smoothie.
OoO OoO OoO OoO
After a night of Simon and Simon and sleeping on the Psych couch, Shawn was heading to the station to pick up his paycheck and rub the fact that the joke was horrible in Lassie's face.
He ran up the station steps to help Juliet, who was balancing two coffees, a bagel and her purse, while trying to get inside.
"Let me get that," Shawn grabbed the door and held it for her.
"Thanks," Juliet flashed a smile. "I got stuck in line at Starbucks, and you know how the head detective gets when the coffee is late."
"How is that different than normal," Shawn winked. "Besides, I thought Lassidoodle told you that cops didn't have to stand in line."
"What?" Juliet looked confused, but she didn't get a chance to ask Shawn what he meant when Gus came up to them.
"Don't you have a pharmaceuticals route to attend to?" Shawn scowled a little. "Or are you too busy plotting new jokes?"
"I'm here to make sure that our paycheck goes towards the electric bill instead of a new video game." Gus shook his head.
Juliet gave them a concerned look. "What's going on? Are you guys fighting again?"
"We're not fighting, Gus is just being a child about admitting that his jokes suck." Shawn thought for a second. "That might not be fair though, because this could have been Lassiter's idea."
"Who is this Lattimer you keep bringing up?" Gus was starting to share Juliet's concerned look.
"Lassiter," Shawn corrected him. "Head Detective Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD?" Shawn looked between them. "Jules' partner, drinks three creams and four sugars in his coffee, hates squirrels."
"Shawn, maybe you should take the day off," Juliet ventured. "Your jokes aren't funny like they usually are." She glanced over her shoulder and headed for her desk.
"Buddy," Shawn pleaded, turning to Gus. "You know I wouldn't make up a fictional policeman."
"I know," Gus nodded, still looking worried. "But we've never worked with a Carlton Lassiter."
"Yes, yes we did," Shawn was pacing back and forth. "He hauled me down to the station because he thought I was involved in a crime and to save myself from being arrested, I told him I was a psychic."
"No, that was Barry. Barry took you down to the station. Are you feeling alright?"
"I AM FINE!" Shawn shouted, attracting the attention of the policemen at the front desk. "Look, I'll prove it to you."
"Shawn, I was going to finish up my route today."
"Give me five minutes, I'll buy you a candy bar."
"Fine, five minutes," Gus sighed.
Shawn smiled triumphantly and lead the way up the stairs to the bullpen. He saw Juliet sitting at her desk, coffee in front of her. He turned to the right where Lassiter's desk sat near the post.
Instead of the head detective's desk with the stack of post-its and the personal mug, the desk now held a desk calendar, and a plant. The name plate on the front read Head Detective Lucinda Barry.
Gus caught up with Shawn. "See, Barry's desk," he pointed to the name plate.
Shawn started going around to every desk. "Gus, this doesn't make sense. Why would you guys go to this length to play a joke on me?"
"It isn't a practical joke," Gus told him.
"Not a practical joke?" Shawn gave a half laugh. "Then why is Barry's stuff here. Where's the "shoot first and ask questions later mug"? Or did you all decide to lie to me today?"
"We're not lying to you." Juliet came over to them. "We're worried about you."
"Well, I'm worried too!" Shawn told her when he saw Barry coming over towards them.
"You always need to be the center of attention, Spencer, but this is taking a bit too far." Barry snapped. "You're interrupting O'Hara's work and distracting half the station."
"Where is Lassiter?" Shawn was getting frustrated and his voice cracked near the end. He turned to the rest of the room, which was focused completely on the psychic. "Can anyone tell me where Carlton Lassiter is? Anyone? Bueller? I'm sure you know Lassiter, he's Irish, grumpy, likes to shoot guns. He even slept with Barry about five years ago." His voice rose with every sentence.
Barry's hand strayed near her gun at that last statement.
"That must be why he liked you so much. You both love to shoot things." Shawn was still yelling.
"Mr. Spencer," the chief's voice rang out across the room and Shawn turned to see her standing just inside the door to her office. "A word," she headed for her desk.
Shawn clenched his jaw and headed for the office.
"Just keep your cool," Gus whispered to him. "I have to finish my route, and you owe me a candy bar." He gave Shawn a tiny fist bump and then headed for the door.
One last look over his shoulder gave Shawn a view of the entire station watching him. A few ducked their heads and headed back to work, but Barry and Juliet stood watching.
"Chief, you wanted to see me," Shawn was all business as he sat down in front of her desk.
If she was going to play along with this ridiculously lame and dragged out excuse for a prank then he would to.
"What is wrong with you, Mr. Spencer?" The chief was shaking her head at him. "If you ever cause that kind of a scene in my station again I will have you kicked out."
"I just want answers," Shawn told her. "I want to know why Detective Barry is here and where Lassiter is."
"Detective Barry is the finest detective I have on the force. She's been head detective since 2006." The chief frowned. "You should know that, she's the one who questioned you in regards to those tips you gave us."
"Yes, she was there, but she was partners with Carlton Lassiter and he was head detective, not Barry. She was sleeping with him and I told everyone and she got transferred."
"That could be considered libel and I will not tolerate rumors like that." The chief snapped. "Lucinda is married to a lovely man named David."
"Fine, maybe they're not lovers, but people don't disappear, Chief. I want to know what happened to Lassiter and why you're playing along with Gus and this charade."
"You keep talking about Lassiter, but I can assure you, Mr. Spencer, there is no one employed by the police department named Lassiter."
"He's got to be in the system," Shawn protested. "I remember him being here when my dad arrested me. His name is probably on my case report."
"I will not allow you to pull your own arrest reports to satisfy some weird obsession." Vick told him. "Now I think you need to go home and rest. May I remind you, Mr. Spencer, that you are a consultant and I don't need to call you in on cases."
"You may remind me," Shawn muttered and headed for the door. It would take more than the chief forbidding Shawn to look at his own arrest report to keep him from investigating further. Since when had Shawn listened to anyone when they forbade him to do something.
He ducked down the hallway towards the records room, trying to act casual as Dobson passed him. When the coast was clear he reached for the door knob.
"Shawn?" Juliet's voice interrupted him.
He spun, trying to look innocent. "Hey, Jules,"
"What were you looking for in there?" She was coming down the stairs, holding a pile of folders.
"The spirits were telling me you'd need the door opened." Shawn fibbed, flashing her a grin and pulling the door open.
She gave him an uncertain smile, but headed into the room. "Did you get in trouble with the chief?" She asked as she started filing the reports into their appropriate drawers.
"A little," Shawn shrugged, his eyes fixed on the file cabinet with his own record in it. "What about the candy store case?"
"The other employee confessed. He was taking some money out of the register and Riley surprised him. So he shut the drawer, accidentally shot Riley trying to convince him to keep quiet and then took the money and waited for the cops to show up. Not the brightest criminal mastermind."
"Mhmm," Shawn made a noise of agreement and then curiosity got the better of him and he opened the drawer with his file.
"What are you doing?" Juliet looked over.
"Just checking something," Shawn said absently. He flipped through his file and found the arrest report from 1995. "If I'm not crazy then Lassie's name should be on here." He glanced through the report, smirking slightly at his dad's neat handwriting.
Juliet peeked over his shoulder. "Shawn," she said softly. "There's no Lassiter listed."
Shawn read over the report four more times before slowly putting it away. "Jules, I'm not crazy and I'm not joking. I'm really confused and I need to know what's going on."
"Just go home and get some sleep," she told him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze and a small kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure it'll make sense after some rest."
"That's what Gus told me yesterday." Shawn shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her out the door.
"I've got to go help Lucinda, call me if you need anything." Juliet gave him a quick hug and headed upstairs again.
OoO OoO OoO OoO
Shawn went back to the Psych office planning on doing some research, but the couch in the office wasn't as comfortable as the guy selling it on Craig's list had advertised, which meant that Shawn hadn't slept well the night before. Shawn would look for Lassiter after he watched some Magnum P.I. and took a nap.
"Shawn," Juliet knocked softly before entering the office. "Shawn, are you in here."
Shawn jerked awake from the chair in front of the TV and tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah, Jules, I must have dozed off."
"If you were napping you probably needed it," Juliet gave him a smile. "I brought you a sandwich, I don't know if you'd eaten."
"I hadn't thanks," Shawn returned the smile. He took the paper bag from her and went to his desk to open it.
"Are you feeling any better from this morning?" Juliet pulled Gus' desk chair over and sat across from Shawn.
"Yeah," Shawn forced a smile. "I'm fine. I must have been out of whack. I'm just gonna watch some TV today and take it easy."
Juliet seemed satisfied and visibly relaxed. Her cell phone rang and she dug around in her purse. "O'Hara," she listened for a moment and then hung up. "I have to run, another case."
"Should I come?"
"Nope, just take it easy." She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."
OoO OoO OoO OoO
Gus went to the Psych office after finishing his route with a pizza in hand. He felt a little bad about yelling at Shawn with this whole joke thing. If anything Shawn was confusing him. Usually if Shawn played the joke you would know, but at this point Gus wasn't sure that Shawn was joking about there being a missing detective.
He found Shawn asleep in his chair, the DVD menu for Quantum Leap was playing on the TV. Gus set the pizza down on his desk and turned off the TV.
Shawn jerked awake at the lack of noise. "The walrus stole my money," he mumbled.
"C'mon son, you know the walrus can't be trusted," Gus shook his head laughing.
"You know that's right," Shawn agreed.
Gus help up the box in his hand, "I brought pizza."
"Sweet," Shawn stretched out his legs. "I was just Bakula-ing it up." He stifled a yawn.
"Bakula-ing is not a word," Gus corrected him.
"But you just said it, therefore it is." Shawn reached for a slice of pizza.
They ate in silence for a few minutes and then Shawn raised an eyebrow at Gus. "You know what I think." He said seriously.
"What?" Gus frowned.
"I think that one of us, is really Sam Beckett."
"Right," Gus snorted in laughter, "and the other one of us is Remington Steele."
"Remington Steele wasn't solving problems in other people's bodies." Shawn rolled his eyes. "Sam Beckett helped save people's lives and made right what once went wrong."
"Is this because you're pretending that there should be this Lassiter guy around?" Gus groaned.
"I'm not pretending!" Shawn told him. "Dude, something isn't right,"
"I think you've been watching too much television."
"I've watched just as much as you, Mr. I-Record-Every-Cat-Program-Ever." Shawn huffed.
"They are adorable, just like bunnies." Gus defended himself, standing up. "And until you can talk about life like a sane person I don't want to hang out." He grabbed the pizza box. "Call me if we get a case."
"Don't take the pizza!" Shawn protested. "I've only had two slices."
"Buy your own pizza," Gus snapped back. This time he didn't feel guilty about yelling at Shawn. His friend was still carrying on with this Lassiter nonsense and Gus was over that joke.
Shawn heard the door slam and then slumped back in his chair. Lassie was missing, Jules thought he was crazy and Gus was mad at him. The perfect trifecta of bad things. He was half expecting someone to call and tell him that The Mentalist was canceled, it would be the perfect ending to the most horrible day ever.
He chewed on the last little bit of his pizza crust and thought about what he had said to Gus. What if one of them actually was Sam Beckett? It couldn't be Shawn, because Shawn was Shawn and he was sure of that. He doubted it was Gus, because Sam Beckett probably would have been grateful to be recognized rather than getting mad and storming out. That left Juliet, and Shawn wasn't sure how comfortable he was with Juliet being inhabited by Scott Bakula. She had kissed him after all.
Plus if Juliet was Sam Beckett then she would have helped him find Lassie rather than telling him to sleep it off. Shawn spun around in his chair a few times; it helped him think. Then he knew he had to go to the one place he could turn to for information when Gus and Jules wouldn't help him; the internet.
He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. If this was all a joke, then Lassie's name would come up in the hundred-bajillion newspaper articles and TV interviews that he had given over the past fifteen years at the station. Shawn typed Carlton Lassiter into the search bar and waited for the results to load.
The page loaded, but with only four results. Shawn frowned, but clicked the first one. It was a state web page listing all the officers that had died in the line of duty. Carlton Lassiter's name was listed in 1994.
Shawn clicked the link next to the detective's name and started reading the report.
Rookie officer, Carlton Lassiter was killed on Tuesday May 10th, 1994 during a drug bust of the Cinco Reyes gang. Officer Lassiter was pinned down by gang members and when backup arrived he was already shot.
Shot? Shawn frowned at the screen. This was taking it too far, Gus had gotten the station, Barry and the internet involved with his prank. Shawn had to commend him for his thoroughness but pretending Lassie was dead was a little much.
"There's got to be more than that," Shawn muttered out loud and hit the back button to search for Lassiter's name again.
"There isn't more than that," a voice interrupted his thoughts and Shawn looked up to see Lassiter sitting on Gus' desk.
"Lassie!" Shawn was happy to see the detective and then he frowned. "About time you got here. It's a mean trick, letting me think I'm going crazy."
Lassiter scowled, "my name is Carlton Lassiter."
"I know, I know. Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective SBPD." Shawn said, in a gruff voice, mocking Lassiter's usual demeanor.
"Head detective?" Lassiter shook his head, sounding confused. "No, no... you just read about me, rookie officer."
Shawn noticed for the first time that the Lassiter on Gus' desk wasn't the same Lassiter that he had been two days ago when Shawn had switched the sugar packets in the break room for salt packets. He was much younger, none of the stress wrinkles on his face or the grey in his hair. "What's with the rookie blues and the hair dye, Lassie? This is weird."
"You think it's weird? After fifteen years someone is suddenly trying to find me? I don't even know who the hell you are." Lassiter continued to scowl.
"My name is Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, and I work with you at the police department." Shawn explained, as if he were talking to a three year old. "We solve cases, you're head detective and Jules is your partner."
"Spencer?" There was still confusion in Lassiter's voice. "As in Detective Henry Spencer?"
"That's my dad," Shawn nodded. "But you know all this. Why is everyone so set on making my life miserable by pretending you don't exist, or that you died?" His voice was getting louder and louder.
"Because I did die!" Lassiter yelled back, walking towards Shawn. "I was shot in the chest by a member of the Cinco Reyes gang and it hurt like hell. Then I blacked out and when I woke up I was still here, but damn it, I'm not really here!" He had continued walking towards Shawn's desk and was now standing in the middle of it.
Shawn scooted his desk chair back as far as it could go, until he hit a wall. "What the heck, Lassie? Didn't your mother ever teach you it's impolite to stand in other people's desks?" He grabbed a pencil and tossed at Lassiter, freaking out a little when the pencil passed through him.
Lassiter didn't seem to be phased by the pencil. He crossed his arms. "I have no idea who you are, but for the past two days you've been the only person that has said my name since my funeral and I want to know why."
"You haven't had a funeral!" Shawn protested. "You have been head detective of the SBPD for almost ten years now. You divorced your wife officially two years ago and after that you cut your hair in the most godawful way imaginable."
"I got married?" Lassiter uncrossed his arms and Shawn noticed an empty left ring finger.
"Yeah, to Victoria. You married her and then you guys called it quits."
"Victoria Parker?" Lassiter raised his eyebrows. "I thought her dad hated me."
"Still does," Shawn mumbled.
He sighed and then gave Lassiter a skeptical look. "Let's just say for a second that I'm not crazy, but you're still a... ghost?" Lassiter nodded in agreement with the terminology. "Right, so that means one thing."
"What?"
"Something was messed up in the time and space continuum." Shawn said decidedly. "And you know what that means."
"No, I don't," Lassiter drawled, looking annoyed and more like the Lassiter Shawn was used to seeing.
"It means that we're a lot closer to being in a Quantum Leap episode than I thought." Shawn whispered conspiratorially.