This has been an absolutely horrible week, culminating in a demotion at work today. I'll have more about that on my LiveJournal page sometime this weekend, since this will effect my WIPs and future stories. It shouldn't affect this story, however. I am almost done editing the last chapter and don't see a problem continuing with the weekly updates.

On a more cheerful note, it was fun giving skeptical Lassiter a power. I hope everyone enjoys this.

Carlton stared up at his bedroom ceiling. It was nice, as far as ceilings went, painted a neutral white color. He had been staring at it for awhile now. He wasn't sure how long, but it was long enough for the shadows to move and fade as the sun came up. He had spent hours tossing and turning last night before finally falling asleep, only to have his treacherous body wake him up again a scant few hours later. His insomnia always did pick the worst times to rear its ugly head.

He glanced over at his alarm clock and let out a groan. He might as well give up at this point. He highly doubted he would get anymore sleep. It's not like it mattered if he was well rested anyway. He was banned from the station for the next few days and had nothing much planned except lounging around the house.

Getting up slowly, he cursed the throbbing in his head. It had started as a dull ache as soon as he woke up. Since then it had escalated to something bordering on a migraine. He hoped it wasn't a side-effect of whatever chemicals had made it into his bloodstream. He did not want to spend any more time in a damn hospital.

He popped a couple of aspirin and took a shower, being careful of his bandages. The warm water did wonders for his sore body, though didn't help his headache much.

Dressed in sweat pants and an old SBPD t-shirt, he left his room. On the way towards the kitchen, he peeked into the living room. O'Hara was already up, sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee. She jumped up as soon as she saw him.

Carlton held up a hand to ward off any questions. "Is there more coffee?"

She nodded. "I made it fresh ten minutes ago."

He grunted in response before resuming his trek towards the kitchen. He heard O'Hara following him and suppressed a sigh. Hopefully she could keep quiet until he had his first cup.

She stood in the doorway watching him as he moved around the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He brought his cup to his face, inhaling the bittersweet aroma before taking a sip. O'Hara had found one of the bags of specialty coffee he had received for Christmas last year. He had shoved them to the back of the cabinet, preferring his coffee untainted. He was surprised to find he enjoyed the taste. He wondered which flavor she had chosen. For some reason, he was leaning toward hazelnut.

"Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat," O'Hara offered.

The thought of food making him nauseous, he shook his head. "Coffee's fine for now."

He headed for the living room, O'Hara again trailing behind. He sat on the couch while she took a seat in a nearby chair. Sipping his coffee, he tried to ignore O'Hara's fidgeting. He briefly considered turning on the TV, but decided that would only make his headache worse. He sighed, rubbing his temples to try to ease the persistent pounding.

"What's wrong?" O'Hara asked.

"Headache," he said. He put his mug down, the coffee no longer appealing with his head hurting so much.

She got up and left the room. He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, then the sound of water running. She returned holding a damp hand towel. "Here, try laying this across your forehead. It should help."

When he took the towel from her, their fingers touched. He suddenly got an image in his mind of a middle aged man who looked similar to O'Hara, along with a feeling of concern. He jerked his hand away, ignoring the hurt look on his partner's face. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

She walked away as he laid back on the couch, placing the towel across his forehead. He let out a sigh of relief as the cool cloth started to soothe away the pain. He swore he could feel O'Hara smiling at him but since she was the reason his head was no longer throbbing, he let it slide.

He tried to relax, but the mental image of that man bothered him. Carlton didn't know who he was, but he had the strangest feeling O'Hara did. If he had to guess, he would say the man was one of her older brothers. That would explain how she knew him, but not how the image of him had gotten into his head. There was no logical way for that to have happened.

Well, one part of the mystery was easy to clear up. "How's your brother?" he asked casually.

O'Hara sounded startled by the sudden question. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just trying to make conversation. It's not like there's much else to do," Carlton said defensively. He realized it must seem odd asking that question out of nowhere, especially since he made it a point not to ask about her personal life unless it affected their work. Unlike some other detectives he could name.

"Oh. Well, he has been on my mind today," O'Hara admitted. She didn't say anything else right away, but he could hear her moving around in her chair.

"I can hear you fidgeting. Just tell me," Carlton said.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "My brother was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. He hurt his knee pretty badly. He's supposed to find out today if he needs surgery to fix it."

"That sucks," Carlton said out loud. Internally, he was wondering how the hell he had known something was going on with her brother. Maybe the headache was causing him to hallucinate. O'Hara was here, so his mind came up with something related to her. That could explain the vision he had seen.

No, not a vision. He flinched away from even thinking that term. A vision was something Spencer pretended to have when mucking up one of his cases. He wasn't anything like Spencer and visions weren't real. He'd much rather go with the theory he was hallucinating. That was more likely than some mystical power.

There was a short period of silence while Carlton tried to sort out his thoughts. Soon he heard O'Hara fidgeting again. He sighed. "Is there a problem?"

"No," she said, though he could clearly tell she was lying. She was probably bored. It's not like he was providing much entertainment.

"I don't need you to sit there staring at me. Find something to do," he snapped.

I wonder if Shawn is this grouchy.

"Well, nothing's stopping you from finding out," Carlton muttered. "I don't need you hanging around all day."

"What are you talking about?" O'Hara asked.

"If you're worried about Spencer, call him. I'm sure he's less grouchy than me," Carlton said petulantly.

"I never said you were grouchy," O'Hara frowned.

Carlton lifted the towel so he could look at her. "Really? So I just imagined it then?" he asked.

O'Hara looked at him with concern. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine." He dropped the towel back over his eyes. It had warmed against his skin and was no longer providing much relief.

Maybe I should call the doctor, just to be safe.

"No doctors," Carlton said sharply.

"I didn't say anything about a doctor," O'Hara said irritably.

Carlton threw the towel on the ground and sat up. "Are we seriously going to do this again?" He stopped when he saw the strange look on O'Hara's face.

"I didn't say anything about a doctor," she said slowly. "But I was thinking it. Just like I was thinking about my brother before you asked and I was thinking that you were grouchy." She was looking entirely too pleased by the ridiculous idea she was proposing.

"O'Hara, will you listen to yourself. You sound as bad as Spencer," Carlton said.

"Do you have a better explanation?" she asked.

"You're muttering things under your breath without realizing it," Carlton replied promptly. "My ex-wife used to do it all the time." He had caught O'Hara doing it a time or two before, though not with the same frequency as Victoria. It was certainly plausible that it had happened again today, caused by O'Hara's concern.

"Then you won't have a problem with a little test," she said eagerly.

He wondered if it wasn't his partner that had been exposed to something. "O'Hara – "

"What number am I thinking of?"

"Aren't you going to give me a range to guess from?" he complained.

She shook her head. "You won't need it. Now, what number?"

Carlton sighed, but decided to humor her. The quicker he failed, the quicker she would drop this asinine idea. If it silenced his own growing suspicions as well, all the better. He closed his eyes and focused on O'Hara.

Thirty-one, the same as Shawn's age.

His eyes snapped open. That was weird. It sounded almost like O'Hara talking, but with a strange echo to it. He hadn't heard the words with his ears, though. They had sounded inside his head.

Which couldn't happen. Mind-readers don't exist.

"Well, what number is it?" O'Hara asked, looking at him expectantly.

He thought back to the 'voice' he heard. "Thirty-one?" he guessed.

"That's right," she said quietly.

Carlton closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. This couldn't be possible. There was no way he was reading O'Hara's mind. It didn't matter that all the evidence was pointing towards it. Things like that don't happen in real life.

Maybe it was just more evidence of some kind of brain damage, like the image he had seen earlier. She could have muttered the words again and his headache had caused him to ear them as if they were distorted. That had to be what happened.

"Carlton?"

He looked up so see O'Hara had moved closer, looking at him worriedly.

"Why do you care about Spencer's age?" he asked before he could stop himself.

O'Hara's eyes widened and she backed up a step. "I don't care. Why would I care?"

A five year old could tell O'Hara was lying, let alone the head detective of the SBPD. "If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask. Now spill."

"Well, it is his age, and I may have been thinking about that fact recently. That's all." She bent down and grabbed the towel, avoiding his eyes. "Let me re-soak this for you."

He grabbed her hand as she tried to walk away. Once again he got another flash, this one Spencer related. "You looked in his file?" he asked in surprise.

She jerked his hand out of his, backing away quickly to the other side of the room. "Did you just read my mind?" she asked in shock.

He froze as the implications of what had just happened sank in. He had read his partner's mind. It wasn't all a bunch of coincidences or a joke. She hadn't muttered under her breath or given off any tells that he could have used to arrive at this information. It was real. "I thought you were the one who believed in this stuff," he said faintly.

"I do, it's just. . ." She bit her lip, glancing away for a moment before turning back to him. "This isn't some random guy on the street, or even Shawn with his weirdness." She looked him straight in the eye and he could feel her confusion and fear. "This is you, the most un-psychic, least superstitious guy I know."

Carlton had to look away before her emotions overwhelmed him. It was getting easier to hear her in just the short time they had been talking and he wasn't sure he was comfortable with that. He put his head in his hands with a groan. "Why the hell is this happening?"

"Maybe it had to do with the lab accident yesterday," O'Hara suggested tentatively. "I can call Shawn and find out if anything is going on with him."

"No," Carlton said quickly. "The last thing I need is Spencer finding out I think I'm. . . "

"Psychic?" O'Hara supplied with a small smile, when he was unable to finish the sentence.

He winced, but nodded. "Exactly."

She crossed her arms, regarding him closely. "I still think we should call. If something happened to Shawn as well, that would at least tell us this thing was caused by the accident. If not, we need to start looking into other possibilities."

Carlton sighed. She did have a point. "OK, but do not under any circumstances tell Spencer what's going on. Just. . . pretend you're checking up on him. You were going to call him today anyway."

O'Hara gave him a sharp look. "How did you. . .? Never mind." She grabbed the phone, quickly dialing Spencer's number. "Gus? It's Juliet." She crossed the room, far enough away that Carlton couldn't hear her thoughts. He could still sense her emotions however.

"Everything's fine. I'm just calling to see how Shawn is doing." She listened, frowning slightly. A thread of suspicion wound through her mind, along with relief. Spencer must be fine, though something Guster said was bothering her.

"Okaay," she said slowly. "Well, tell him I said feel better. Carlton?" She glanced over at him. He shook his head, reminding her to keep her mouth shut. "He's fine. Also has a headache, and he's a bit more grumpy than normal." He snorted at her statement. He was not a grumpy. "But otherwise fine. Totally and completely fine."

Carlton sighed. He should have made the call himself. O'Hara was horrible at lying to those two nimrods.

"No. I just wanted to check on Shawn and I did, so I should go. Bye Gus." She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

"Gee O'Hara, were you trying to give away that something happened?" Carlton asked sarcastically.

She glared at him and he sensed a surge of annoyance from her. "Next time you call then."

"I will." His head was starting to throb again and he lay back down on the couch. "What did Guster say?"

He heard O'Hara sigh and sensed another flash of annoyance. Turning his head, he saw her grab the towel she had dropped and head to the kitchen. She returned a few moments later, towel damp again, and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said, careful not to touch her this time.

"You're welcome." She took a few steps away and sat in a chair while he draped the towel across his forehead. "He said Shawn was fine, but he seemed nervous. I think he was hiding something."

"The two of them are always hiding something. It might not mean anything," he reasoned.

"Do you really believe that?" O'Hara asked skeptically.

"I think if Spencer had any kind of real ability, he would have been over here already rubbing my face in it." He yawned, his sleepless night starting to catch up with him.

He heard O'Hara stand up. "You look tired. I have some errands to run that will take a couple of hours. I'll pick up something for us to eat on the way pack." That will give me some time to think all this through.

"Sounds good," Carlton mumbled, agreeing with both statements. This whole thing was extremely unsettling and he could use some time himself to adjust to the idea himself.

He sensed a brief burst of irritation from her at his reply, along with a partial thought about being taken for granted again. He pulled the towel off his face and looked at her as she grabbed her purse. "Thank you, by the way. For agreeing to stay with me."

She paused and he sensed a wave of gratitude drift from her. "No problem. It's what friends do."

He cleared his throat and looked away, uncomfortable with the displays of emotion. "Thanks," he said again, gruffly, and tried to ignore the flash of amusement from her as she headed for the door.

The house felt oddly silent after she left. He hadn't realized how loud O'Hara's thoughts and emotions had been. His mind was quiet now, though he could hear a low hum in the background. Probably his neighbors, he thought, wondering exactly how far away he could read people.

He yawned, his sleepless night and the last hour leaving him feeling exhausted. Reading minds was more tiring than one would think. He would take a quick nap, then see if the two of them could sort out what the hell was going on. He put the towel back on his forehead, closed his eyes, and let himself drift off to sleep.

Please review. It really makes me happy to hear what you think of the story.