DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything related to Psych, the TV show besides my DVD sets of seasons 1-6. My imagination loves to play with the characters, as if they were action figures in a toy chest; that's all this is. Fun.

Author's Note: Not sure how often I will be updating, but I do not like it when authors start a story and never finish- this WILL get completed, just hang on for the ride. This is a Prologue for a Longer story. Also, I have no Beta-reader, but I try to read and re-read what I've written to catch mistakes... if you have an interest in Beta-reading for me; just ask. Good Luck and Thank you.

Lassiter's POV

He stood in the doorway, watched her pack the last of her items into the trailer and couldn't help but think that there could have been something he should have done to keep her from leaving. Maybe if he had tried harder to try the counseling she suggested, or worked harder to curb other urges that he just couldn't stow away. Maybe if he had worked harder at the relationship and less on his career.

Her giving up and leaving was not in his life plan. They were supposed to stay together, husband and wife. He could have worn her down, eventually, enough to have kids. They were supposed to be a family. Surely a hard-working, high-ranking detective in Santa Barbara with a wife and a family would have then looked appealing enough to the Mayor to consider for a promotion to Chief of Police.

As Detective Carlton Lassiter closed the door to the house he once shared with his wife, he felt as if he had just closed the door on all the dreams and plans he had made long ago.

What would he do now?

He poured himself a drink. As the bourbon travelled down his throat, a new series of thoughts formed. It was just a separation; he still had time to work on those could-haves and should-haves. Possibly work on some of those maybes to get her to come back, if she would want him back.

It wasn't love that drove him to work on this plan. It was fear; fear of failure and fear of things he didn't want to confront. He would not consider an idea that wouls let the marriage fail.

He walked into Tom Blair's Pub and ordered his drink.

"Bourbon. Straight." Funny term, he thought. Straight up. Whatever. Lassiter sat down and slouched on the stool.

Today marked the two-year anniversary of the day Victoria walked away from him. For two years, Carlton had tried everything he knew to try and convince the woman that she should reconsider the separation. Nothing had worked. And today he found out that she had a new boyfriend: a scum-sucking personal injury ambulance-chasing lawyer. It was really over. He had failed. He had lost. Now everything was over. He was done.

Tonight he had no care that he was supposed to work in the morning or that there was a case he knew he could solve if the Chief hadn't made him back down. No, tonight he was going to drink, get drunk and maybe forget about how epically he had failed at his life to this point. Tomorrow he would deal with any consequences from his actions, but tonight he did not care. Tonight he would be just Carlton Lassiter; not Head Detective, not for the SBPD. The guns, the badge and the work would all be forgotten after he finished the third drink when he pocketed his car keys; knowing he wasn't going to drive himself home.

He ordered his fourth drink and an attractive woman sat next to him and ordered a martini for herself and turned to speak to Lassiter. She has a nice smile and her perfume smelled faintly of vanilla and lavender.

"Hello. Are you here alone or should I scoot over to the next seat?"

"Oh. I am most certainly alone tonight. You can feel free to sit there as long as you need before your date shows."

The lady laughed. "I'm not waiting for anyone. I was hoping to talk to you."

"Me? Well, in that case, I'm Carlton." He tried to smile at her, and hoped he didn't come across as creepy.

"I'm Lindsay. You look like you are trying to drown out something with all of the alcohol you can ingest this evening. Anything you'd like to share?"

"No. Not really, no. How about you? What has you here tonight?"

"Just feeling lonely, thought I'd try for some conversation, or something." Lindsay reached over and ran her hand down his left arm and it opened a window of hope that he might not go home alone tonight.

"Oh. Well, I can try to keep you company, then." He was definitely in the mood to try. Anything.

Lindsay smiled at him and started to talk about herself and tried to get details about Carlton, all the while breaking the touch barrier every so often to keep his attention.

Sometime during her explanation of her hobby, which was collecting rare stamps, Carlton's attention had started to wander. The alcohol was clouding his mind and he felt himself getting bored with conversation. A rather handsome man walked to the spot on Lassiter's right and ordered a drink. Carlton couldn't keep himself from eyeing the man. He was wearing decent clothes, not a suit and tie but a nice polo shirt and dark jeans. The snugness of both alluded to the details of his body. The alcohol had loosened Carlton up and his proclamation of not caring still held. The man was fit and very attractive. When the man's drink was placed in front of him, he caught Lassiter's stare. He signaled the bartender and ordered Carlton his fifth bourbon.

"Thanks. I'm Carlton."

"Danny." Danny offered his hand and Carlton shook it to complete the greeting, noting how the other man held onto his hand for a moment longer than was customary for a generic handshake. Carlton felt a twinge of excitement run through his arm, almost like electricity and was brought out of the boredom that he felt just moments ago.

"I'm sorry..." Lindsay piped in between the two men. For a moment, Carlton had forgotten he had been talking to the woman. "I'll just... it was nice meeting you, Carlton."

"Wait. Wait. Lindsay, was it?" He could feel the alcohol in his head as he started to stand to stop the woman before she left. "Don't leave."

He brought his hand to her shoulder and leaned in close to her. "Don't leave."

"Hey, man. What's your deal? I just bought you a drink. I thought we were talking here?" The tone sounded irritated.

Lassiter turned back to Danny. "Sure. We can talk." He looked between Lindsay and Danny. "We can all talk. No need to pair up already. We can all be open-minded, right?"

"Sorry. I'm not into that." Lindsay threw him a disgusted look as she grabbed her drink and walked further into the bar.

"Look, I am not here for someone who doesn't know what he wants. Good luck." Danny slapped a hand on Carlton's shoulder and he walked away.

"Well, shit. That went well." Carlton mumbled as he stumbled back to his barstool. He finished the drink and dialed the taxi service. It was the bartender that spoke to him next.

"Tough night. Want some free advice?"

"Not really. Why not? Couldn't hurt more, right?"

"Try not casting your net so wide next time. You might want to focus on one or the other."

"Yeah. Well, thanks for that." A sarcastic reply was all he had as a response. If he could decide on what he wanted, his life would probably suck less. "One more please. I'm expecting a taxi. Would you mind letting me know when it gets here?"

"Sure."

Lassiter moved himself and his drink to a small table near the door. It was a few minutes later that he heard the voice of someone he really, really did not want to see. Not tonight.

He looked up and saw Shawn Spencer talking to a nice-looking woman. He noticed how Spencer's shirt lifted slightly in the back and he saw how nicely tanned the skin was. He caught himself wondering how often the other man sat outside without his shirt.

"Spencer has no problems choosing what he wants." Jealousy ran through him, as he thought how Spencer had no problems with the ladies and solved cases with astounding accuracy. The last point returned his thoughts to the astronomer case the chief wouldn't let him pursue further.

"I was to not care. No. Not tonight."

"Lassi?"

"Spencer! Why am I not surprised?"

(The Next Morning)

"Oh God."

His head wouldn't stop pounding and the light in his room seemed too bright. Carlton Lassiter sat up and checked the clock on his nightstand. He had one hour to clear his head and get ready to go for work.

Since it wasn't his first hangover, Carlton started to lay out the steps to Operation Wake Up, Clean Up and Sober Up as he headed to the bathroom. After he started the shower, he looked at himself in the mirror.

"Man, you really know how to party by yourself. Alone. Always alone." If it hadn't been for Spencer showing up at the bar after the double rejection, he wouldn't have talked to anyone last night. His resolution to 'not care' and enjoy himself hadn't panned out the way he hoped. Turned out he couldn't turn off that part of his brain as easy as it had sounded at the beginning of the evening.

"Wait. How did I get back home?" He remembered that he called a taxi. He must have been at least able to tell the driver where he lived. "Taxi. I took a taxi."

He stepped into the shower and began the process of getting himself ready for work. Once he was dressed and had some toast for breakfast, he was about to call for a taxi to drop him at the bar for his car when he noticed his car keys in the tray by the door.

"What the hell? Please tell me that I did not drive myself home last night." It was bad enough that he had gotten himself so drunk that he couldn't remember how he had gotten home, but if he had driven himself home... He hoped he hadn't broken laws last night. Laws he had taken an oath to uphold. He spent several minutes to look around for any clues to how he had gotten home, but came up with nothing. Except that his handcuffs were missing. Crap. He would have to fill out paperwork for a new set.

"Damn it." He grabbed his keys and decided to pick up coffee on his way to the station.

"Hey Lassi."

"What is it Spencer?" He wondered how the hell he kept finding him like that? First at the bar and now at the station. Had Spencer tacked a GPS tracker into his suits?

"How are you doing? You okay?"

"All right, I'll bite. What's the joke?" Why could he possibly be interested if I'm okay? He thought.

"Just want to make sure you got home all right last night."

What? Did Spencer just ask me if I got home all right? Wouldn't he have seen me drive off or... oh no, did Spencer drive me home? Lassiter couldn't stop his mind from almost panicking.

"From what?" He was at work, maybe if he played it off until he could talk to the other man alone, away from his friend and business partner, the conversation would stop.

"From the bar."

"What bar?"

"You were at a bar?" O'Hara joined the group that followed him to his desk. Great. Now he had to have this conversation in front of his Junior Partner?

"No. I wasn't at a bar. I don't drink."

He thought that if he kept it up he might be able to convince himself that Spencer wasn't at the bar, hadn't driven him home and that he hadn't been checking out the fake psychic last night.

"Spencer, why don't you stop making up stories, okay? They're obviously bogus." He was lying. But the only one in the area who knew that was Spencer.

"And how'd you get that sweet bruise on your forehead?"

Shit. He had forgotten about the bruise he eyed in the mirror while he shaved. He had no idea how he had gotten that.

"I had an altercation." His statement came out sounding like a question.

"Yes, with a table."

Crap. Had he passed out at the bar? If he had, how did he get home? And. Wait. When he had woken up he was in his boxer shorts. Spencer hadn't undressed him, had he? What else had transpired last night that he couldn't remember? But Spencer just wasn't letting this go.

"I get it. Yesterday was a tough anniversary for you."

"What?" Did I say something about Victoria? His thoughts usually went downhill when he thought about the split and the reasons behind it. He really hoped he hadn't said more to the other man.

"Who have you been talking to?" He moved closer to the only one in the room who really knew what happened last night. He tried to sound angry or intimidating, but the closer he got to the man, with his smug smirk and those eyes that told him that he knew the truth, the more he really wanted to just have him shut up. His mind pictured leaning into those lips of his and kissing him until he shut the hell up, but what would that resolve? And he was at the station, highly inappropriate behavior.

"Nobody." Carlton swore he saw Spencer's eyes go to his lips before answering. Could Spencer have known what he had thought just a second before? "I'll get out of your hair."

Thank Sweet Lady Justice that he had left before Carlton caught himself doing something else stupid.