Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other Psych-Os like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: M+

Spoilers: Through season 4 episode 16, "Mr. Yin Presents"


Chapter Nine: The Long Walk to the Chopping Block

They didn't have much time to spare by the time they finally raced each other out the door of Juliet's little apartment, but a double-check of his watch showed Lassiter that there was, barely, enough time to recover his aging Chevy Malibu from the bar parking lot and run home for a hurried change of attire. He'd be cutting it painfully close, but he was confident that he could manage to make it to the station with a few minutes to spare.

Juliet laughed at him when he wedged himself into the passenger seat of her little lime-colored Volkswagen. Even with the seat pushed back as far as it would go he sat with his knees nearly hitting him in the chin. He glared at her but the corner of his mouth twitched humorously.

"If vehicle manufacturers keep making cars smaller and smaller like they're doing, pretty soon I'm going to gather a coalition of American males and lead a revolt against the automotive industry. Anyone over five foot eight needs a little freakin' leg room, dammit. Cripes, could you imagine McNab trying to sit in this seat?"

She giggled at the mental image. "Oh, he couldn't ride in my car. I'd have to get some bungee cords and tie him to the roof."

She drove him to Tom Blair's Pub, where he found his red Malibu safe and sound in the back lot, neither stolen nor towed. "I'll see you in just a few minutes, dear," he said, and gave Juliet a kiss in parting. She waved goodbye and pulled out of the lot with a double-beep of the Beetle's bicycle horn. With no time to waste, Lassiter hopped behind the driver's seat of his car and raced home. He was tempted to put the portable cherry-light on the roof but restrained the impulse to abuse his authority. Once at his apartment he rushed the process of donning clean clothes. The inevitable result was a double Windsor knot in his tie that wasn't even close to centered, but he didn't have time to waste fixing it. He ran his comb through his hair haphazardly on the way out the door.

He pulled the police cruiser into his reserved parking space with minutes to spare, and found Juliet leaning against the back bumper of her little Volkswagen with her arms and ankles crossed, waiting for him. He'd expected her to go into the station first, but while the thought of walking inside side-by-side scared the hell out of him it also made him feel just a little bit proud.

"Hold it," she said. She quickly reknotted his light blue tie and smoothed the lapels of his charcoal jacket. "There, much better. This is my favorite tie, by the way - really brings out those gorgeous eyes of yours. God, I just want to go swimming in them."

His heartbeat resembled the panicked fluttering of a sparrow trapped indoors, and not just because he was nervous about the impending Reveal. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have a woman fussing over the knot in his tie or the lay of his jacket. Damn, but he'd missed that.

"Careful," he cracked with a weak and trembling smile. "Shark-infested waters."

She kissed him. "I don't care. I've met Jaws, and he doesn't scare me that much."

"Well, we'd better get inside before I lose my nerve," he said. "Or I start ravaging you right here on the roof of this ridiculous little car."

"Oo, intriguing concept. But I understand, Detective Lassiter - let's go."

They walked into the building. Lassiter couldn't help but notice that they drew quite a few looks on the way in - either because of how close they stayed to each other or because their audience had played witness to that brief, relatively innocent kiss. He attempted to square his shoulders and don his fiercest glare, but he just wasn't feeling it. He was too damned scared to be intimidating right now, and too happy.

They walked past Reception, where that loopy Officer Allen with the psychic obsession watched them with tea saucer eyes. It was slightly easier to glare at her, but only by a little. It was obvious that, crack-brained or not, she could tell exactly what was different about the Head Detective and his junior partner, which meant that they were broadcasting pretty goddamned loudly. By the end of the day the entire station would know that, once again, Carlton Lassiter was schtupping his cute little female partner. He could feel the flames licking up around the curling edges of their crumbling careers. Juliet was right - they had to tell the Chief themselves, and right away before she had a chance to hear the scuttlebutt doubtlessly already circulating the bullpen. The one thing working in their favor was that there'd been no sign of either a black motorcycle or a blue Toyota Echo on the street outside.

They approached the glass-walled box that was Chief Vick's office. She awaited them in the open doorway, arms folded across her chest, an inscrutable expression on her face. Shit.

"Detective Lassiter, O'Hara - I need you both in my office now. Close the door." She disappeared inside. Lassiter shared a worried glance with Juliet and she reached out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll all work out all right," she said. "Don't be scared."

"Me? Scared? Never happen," he said. "I'm terrified. Well…the guillotine won't wait forever, will it, Marie Antoinette?"

"That it will not, Louie my King."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Vive la France, mon cour," he said.