First off, I want to apologize for the wait. Between my AC adapter dying on me and having a crap-ton of homework every day since school started (damn you senior year AP classes!), I have had no time to complete this. But have no fear, comrades! My replacement cord got in and I had plenty of my Sunday to spend on this. It's turning out nice and long!

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or its characters.


"Wha- wha-" Carlton stuttered.

Before him, on his once-organized desk was a structure. He couldn't tell what it was, only that it was huge and built completely of styrofoam cups.

"How-? But I was only gone a few minutes," he sputtered lamely, his arms (and paperwork) hanging limp by his side.

"Oh my God, sir!" Buzz ran up behind the head detective. "This is all my fault!"

"You gave her the cups?" Lassiter pointed to George, who was sitting at his desk, perfecting her creation. He didn't take his eyes off of her, even to talk to the officer.

"Yes," McNab answered meekly.

"Why… Why would you give her so many cups?" Lassiter's signature rage had yet to appear. For the moment, he simply seemed dumbfounded.

Buzz gulped, anticipating a soul-crushing tirade at any moment. "Her eyes. She just looked at me, and I couldn't say no!" he cried. "She kept coming back for more, and I didn't have the heart to deny her!"

What Lassiter said next was not exactly what Buzz expected. "How did she even reach up that high?"

McNab, who, seconds earlier, had tried to make himself as small as possible, straightened up. "Huh?"

"She's really, really short," Carlton continued. "There's no way she could reach up that high," he mused, noting just how tall the foam building was.

"Well, you have to agree, she's some sort of architectural genius," Buzz chuckled weakly. He then took that opportunity to scurry off before Lassiter came to his senses and killed him.

George finally seemed to notice the detective standing there. Her face brightened, she let out a squeal, and she ran up to her temporary caretaker, grabbing at his hand.

"Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie! LOOK!" She dragged him to her desk. He took the opportunity to place the stack of papers on the tiny free spot that remained. He didn't like where this was going.

"What is it?" he forced out, irritation finally finding its way to him.

"A MAGICAL CASTLE!" she screeched, jumping up and down excitedly, fists clenched. Everyone turned to look at Lassiter and the 'magical castle.'

"A… Castle?"

"Uh huh, uh huh!" Carlton had to wonder if McNab also gave George coffee, because the girl was one step away from rocketing off the walls.

"Why-?" the detective began, but George ran to her styrofoam castle and gathered a few things in her tiny arms. She skipped back to Lassiter (who backed up a few steps, afraid of causing an avalanche of cups) and dumped the things, more cups, to his feet. They seemed to have some markings on them. Did McNab give her a pen, too? She sat on the ground and stared intently up at Carlton. "What?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sit."

"What?"

"Sit."

Lassiter glanced around. People were staring. George started tugging at his pants, commanding him to sit down on the ground with her. Finally, he let out a little groan and lowered himself to the floor. He crossed his long legs and waited for George to do something. Lassiter rested his elbow on his leg and his cheek on his hand. Seconds ticked by. He decided to take things into his own hands.

"What are those, George," he asked, trying to play along. In truth, he was getting a little annoyed with her.

George giggled. "Oh yeah!" She placed the three cups right side up and turned them towards Lassiter.

The first one had a large squiggly circle on it with what appeared to be a spike coming from its top. The second was a circle too, but filled in black with squiggly lines of all sorts. The third was yet another circle, but it appeared to be on another circle with four lines coming from its bottom. Lassiter titled his head to the side, trying to decipher the strange pictures.

George picked up the first one. She pointed frantically at it, directing Lassiter's attention to it. "This is Princess Georgina." Was that her full name? "She was hurt by a mean mean king. He trapped her in his evil castle! Meany." She pouted, grasping the second cup. She ran to her castle, placing the two cups by it. "BUT SUDDENLY!" she cried, running back to where Carlton was still sitting. She picked up the third cup and bolted back to the desk, making 'whoosh' noises on the way there. "The brave Knight Lassie rode up on his horsey and defeated the evil king!" She squished the second cup. "Princess Georgina was SAVED! And Knight Lassie became the hero of the people!" She began to cheer, tossing the remaining two cups up and down.

Lassiter didn't move. He felt his heart warm and melt, as well as any frustration he'd harbored before. He couldn't help but remember when he was a kid. He never had as many friends as he'd have liked, so he would always retreat into fantasy, playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, and all sorts of fanciful things. He too would craft figures to help him in his quests. He found he could not be the least bit angry with George. Only strangely proud.

He stood up silently. The people he swore he heard cooing before now were silent – tense – waiting to see how he'd react.

He smiled. He was sure he imagined that collective gasp. He took a step towards George and reached down. He hoisted the girl up to eye level with him.

"George," he chuckled, "that is the most beautiful castle I have ever seen. You are a true artist."

George wiggled around in his hands modestly. "Really?"

"Of course." Lassiter scanned the room until his eyes found their target. "McNab!"

"Unfortunately, I have to work on that desk," he told her, almost solemnly. She seemed to get the message. Meanwhile, McNab had crept curiously over, wondering what he'd have to do. "So, Mister Buzz here is going to help you take everything down." He turned to the junior officer. "Won't you, Mister Buzz?" Carlton said that with threatening tone that sent shivers down Buzz's spine.

"O-Of course I will!"

Before anything else could happen, a voice Lassiter recognized, but didn't necessarily welcome, rang through the station. From right behind him. "What is that thing on Lassie's desk?"

Lassiter's whole body tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

Before his brain could scream that saying anything was a bad idea, Lassiter spun around, George still in his hands, and retorted, "For your information, Spencer, it's a castle, and it is wonderful." He stopped. Did he really just say that?

Spencer's and Guster's faces were aghast, probably mirroring his own. Slowly, an evil smile spread across the psychic's face. For the third time, Carlton could feel a blush threatening his face.

"What was that Lassie?" Shawn giggled maliciously.

"What are you doing here?" Lassiter ignored him. "We have no cases for you. We don't need you."

"Yeah! We don't need you!" George parroted. Three heads turned to her in surprise. She crossed her little arms and stuck out her tongue at the duo that Lassiter despised so much.

This time, a grin swept across Lassiter's face, a loud laugh escaping his throat. "George! Nice!" If he was that kind of person, he would have high-fived the hell out of that girl.

Again, Shawn and Gus gaped at the detective.

"Dude!" Spencer whined. "We just got Lassie'd by a little girl! Is there no good in the world?"

Gus eyed Lassiter warily, perhaps afraid he'd been replaced by some alien. He placed a hand on Shawn's back, turning him around. "It's okay Shawn. We should probably go."

As soon as the two left, Carlton returned to his desk, feeling very happy with himself. And George. He liked her. He really did.

Lassiter placed her on his chair, beckoning for McNab again. "Like I was saying," he chuckled, "Mister Buzz will help you, because I have to go for a little bit."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course." Then, Lassiter glared intensely at Buzz. The officer gulped. "You'd better take care of her, McNab." The sickly-sweet, danger-laden tone returned. McNab could hear a deeper meaning in that one sentence, although it wasn't "I don't want her causing any more trouble." No, it was more along the lines of, "If she gets even the tiniest scratch when I'm gone, that cat of yours will be the only thing you'll ever be having. EVER." Buzz whimpered, nodding.

"O'Hara!" Lassiter was confident everything would be fine, so he strode to the front door. His partner caught up with him.

"Yes, Carlton?"

"I have to go out and get something." He cast a glance at George, who, much to McNab's dismay, was throwing herself on the castle of styrofoam. This time, it seemed she was playing Godzilla. Lassiter smirked. "If the chief asks, tell her I'll be back soon, and that this is important."

Juliet nodded, letting him pass by her.


As he drove quickly (but still within the speed limit) back to the station, Carlton chose not to think of the incredible irony of one of his purchases. He focused solely on getting back.

After several more minutes of driving, Lassiter turned into his parking space, jumping out of his car. He had a plastic bag in one hand. He walked into the station, half afraid he'd find a unicorn doodled on the floor or something. Fortunately, it seemed that his desk was once again cleared and George was waiting patiently for him. The girl's dark eyes trained on the bag, and they sparkled expectantly. She zoomed over to meet Lassiter.

"Is there something for me in there?"

"Patience," Carlton replied simply.

O'Hara walked up to him. "Carlton, the chief didn't even know you were gone. What's in the bag?"

"Things," he answered. Juliet rolled her eyes and headed to her desk.

Lassiter took a seat at his desk, placing the white bag on the wooden surface. George was bouncing around in anticipation. Finally, Lassiter stuck his hand in the bag, making rustling sounds as he rifled around it. George held her breath. Slowly, teasing the young girl, Carlton drew his arm from the bag. Her eyes widened. She pushed her black hair from her face, making sure to capture the full glory of her gift.

In Lassiter's hand was a huge pack of super-bright watercolor markers, a fat coloring book, and a pad of plain drawing paper.

George shrieked. Lassiter reeled back, shocked. He was sure she burst his eardrum. George snatched the drawing materials with a high-pitched "thank you," and she threw herself on the floor, belly-first, ready to make art. After all, she was a true artist.

Carlton breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. He never knew what kids liked, so it was amazing that his gift was a success. But now, he could try and finish some paperwork.

Occasionally, Lassiter would glance over at George during his work. Maybe try to sneak a peek at what she was doing. But she seemed to catch him every time and would throw her body over the paper with a protective glare.

After a few minutes, Lassiter saw a pair of tiny hands sliding a colorful piece of paper onto his desk – accompanied by a giggle – before disappearing. The first time, it was a crudely colored picture of a green puppy playing with a hot pink butterfly torn straight from the coloring book. The second was of a yellow and red kitten, playing with a spool of neon blue yarn. Also from the book. More and more pages were delivered to his desk until he had a stack big enough to rival his paperwork. And win.

Several more pictures and an awkward ask-O'Hara-to-do-it potty break later, Lassiter felt he had done good work for one day. Apparently, George had too. She'd given him a sizeable stack of colorful pictures that looked like a clown barfed them up. It was then, as Carlton was contemplating what to do with the pictures, did he notice the one on the top. It was different from the others, in that George seemed to have drawn it herself.

Lassiter noticed George trying to climb in his lap, so he helped her up.

"What is this a picture of?" he asked her quietly, though he felt he already knew the answer. On the page, there were what looked to be two people. Huge oval bodies, tiny circle heads, stick arms and legs… The first one was twice as large as the second, with a mess of black swirls on its head. The second one had straight black scribbles for hair. Both had huge smiley faces. They were holding hands.

"That's you, Mister Lassie." George pointed to the big one. Then the small one. "And that's me."

Carlton's words stuck in his throat. A small, soft, sincere smile graced his lips. He took the drawing and separated it from the others. He set it at the front of his desk, where one would usually set family photos.

"Thank you, George." She beamed up at him.

"GEORGE!" The scream broke Lassiter from his contented reverie. His head snapped to the front of the station where the scream had come from. Two people, with the same olive skin and dark hair and eyes as George, were standing there. The man had his arm around the shoulders of a sobbing woman.

The parents.

George leapt from Lassiter's lap, sprinting to her parents. "Mommy! Daddy!" She was pulled into a tight embrace.

Lassiter rose, walking slowly over to the family. He smiled a little. She was finally going to go home.

"Hello," he began, holding his hand out. The father shook it. "I'm Head Detective Lassiter."

"My name is Dominic Combs. This is my wife Alessa." Lassiter shook her hand. "Did you take care of our little Georgia?" Lassiter nodded.

"Me and Mister Lassie had a lot of fun together!" George piped up.

"Did you?" he mother sniffed happily.

"Were you informed of what happened?" Lassiter asked. "Has everything been settled?"

"Yes, we talked to Chief Vick," Mr. Combs confirmed. "All we want to do now is take out daughter home."

"But… But…" George seemed to protest.

Her parents took her hands and began leading her to the door. She went limp, a tactic Carlton had seen Spencer employ several times before. She began to scream.

"I DON'T WANNA GOOOOOO!" she sobbed, lying on the floor.

"We… We have to go," Mrs. Combs said timidly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Lassiter was unsure of what to do. Her crying was breaking his heart, more than he thought it would. He felt, very irrationally, that it was his fault. Then, he remembered something. "Hold on," he told the already-stressed parents. He ran back to his desk and packed the things he'd bought back into the plastic bag. He was reminded that he bought one more thing. He took it out of the bag, hiding it behind his back as he returned to the Combs family.

"George," he said. She quieted down to heaving sniffles. "I still have something else for you." He got down on his knee, staring George in the eye fixedly.

"Really?"

"Yes, but you have to promise to be good."

"Okay."

He pulled his hand from behind his back. He held up a small, plush collie. George's eyes immediately brightened.

"This is Little Lassie," he told her, thanking God Spencer had left. "You need to take good care of him, and he'll take good care of you." He realized how ridiculous he sounded, but chose not to care. George was worth a little absurdity.

"Like you?" Lassiter chuckled, but nodded.

"But Little Lassie would hate to see you cry, so can you be strong for him?" This time, George nodded. She hugged the plush toy close to her, her eyes still shining from tears.

Lassiter straightened up, handing the bag to George's father. "I bought some things to entertain her…"

Dominic clasped Lassiter's hand with both of his, shaking it furiously. "Thank you so much for saving her and taking care of her! I don't know what we'd do if something happened to her!"

Normally, Lassiter would say something like, "Just doing my job," but instead he remained silent. He got an even more rousing handshake from the still-crying mother.

As he watched the family leave, Carlton felt an inexplicable pang of sadness. Had he really become so attached to her? When they had departed from his sight completely, he returned to his desk. He let out a small sigh. As he gathered up the drawings that had become strewn over his desk (having toppled from their precarious stack), he began to think. He had wanted kids, but after his split with Victoria, he abandoned that as a possibility. He never thought that he would ever get an experience like the one he had with George. It was something he'd sorely longed for, even though now he'd probably never admit it, even to himself. Whatever the case, Carlton knew he'd cherish his time with George forever.

Lassiter finally straightened the pictures up and opened his desk drawer, ready to drop them in, when he noticed the one George drew of them together. He reached for it, intending to put it with the others, but he stopped. He smiled and the rough, colorful lines and left it where it was. Where it belonged.


Ta-da! C'est finit!

The part where George is all screamy? That's happened to me before. Those times made me feel absolutely terrible, and I wanted Lassie to convey that feeling of misplaced guilt.

Also, I wanted to mess with the whole Lassie-kids thing at the end.

But I hope I pulled everything off okay ond you readers are satisfied with the ending.

So, I beg of you! Review! I have a few Psych things floating in my head, and reviews help fan the motivation flame! Also, I'm a bit of a review whore! So, review for honesty?