Title: Frozen in Time

Eleven: Dark

Characterized by unhappiness, misfortune, and pessimism.

He somewhat absentmindedly packed his suitcase, having placed the ugly thing on his bed. He felt numb inside, something he had never experienced before. It amazed him to see how quickly life could spiral out of control and stop making sense. He wanted nothing more than to return to the person he'd once been. Why couldn't he run around like crazy, making wiseass remarks and driving Lassiter crazy? Well, he was still able to drive Lassiter crazy. As the detective's name crossed his mind he let the shirt he was folding fall into the suitcase atop the other clothes. When he'd told Lassiter that he was leaving he'd been hoping the detective would stop him, would say something to make him stay. Now he knew that all of his dreams were…dreams. He'd disappear for a month or so and come back, hopefully without the feelings that kept him awake at night.

When he was done packing he closed the suitcase and brought it out to the living room, setting it by the front door. Surprisingly he managed to escape the festive party without Jules or Gus noticing him. That didn't really surprise him. Over the last few weeks he started picking up little things here and there. Something was going on between the two of them, something that might end up being more than friendship. And Shawn was generally happy for them. He just wished…

Shaking his head before he let his thoughts worsen his mood he headed into the kitchen. A growl issued from his stomach as he started to search through the cabinets for something that looked even the slightest bit appetizing. But despite the fact that he was hungry nothing jumped out at him, and he left the kitchen, sinking into the sofa and propping his feet up on the coffee table. At some point he was going to have to call his father to let him know about the impending trip. Part of him wanted to wait until he was already out of the city before placing the call. Something told him that his father wouldn't exactly be happy with him, not that that was anything new. The other part of him actually wanted his father to stop him, to keep him in the city. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to get away for a while to see if maybe he could find the part of himself that seemed to be missing; that carefree attitude.

He let his head rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Any moment now he expected Gus to walk through the door and start yelling at him for being crazy knowing that it wasn't going to be happen. It would be nice if it had. He thought about driving to the Psych office and leaving his best friend a message there instead of calling him. Gus probably wouldn't even stop by the place while he was gone so that would have been pointless.

He sighed.

He originally planned to leave the following day, now he couldn't even remember why he'd put it off. Making up his mind he decided that he would leave that night, a little before midnight when traffic wouldn't be crazy. It would allow him the chance to make good mileage before the sun rose and people found him gone. Looking at his watch he saw that he still had a few hours to kill. Without anything else to do he figured that he might as well catch-up on his sleep.

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Tossing and turning, Lassiter finally gave up on trying to sleep. He was physically exhausted, his body and mind ready for some down time. He still wasn't really making any headway on the double homicide. The chief would be in the next day and he would have nothing to tell her. He could already imagine the look on her face, the anger in her voice. And yet, none of it really mattered to him. It wasn't the unanswered questions about the case that kept him awake at night. No, it was something else entirely, something that he wasn't really ready to admit to himself.

Shawn, he couldn't sleep because of Shawn.

Even though hours had passed he still found himself replaying the conversation they'd had in the precinct. He knew that a part of him had hid during the festivities for the sheer fact that he knew Shawn would come looking for him. That's how it played out, the fake psychic throwing open that door and startling him. And of course, being the usual ass that he was, he didn't say one nice thing to him. He could see that Shawn was hurting, could clearly see the change in the younger man and yet, he continued to be cruel to him. All because he was afraid to admit how he felt. Shawn's words played through his mind once again, the mentioning of the trip. Would he be able to last a month without Shawn's annoying behavior? Without his quirky way of solving cases?

Then he mentally stopped himself, a startling realization coming to him. When did he start referring to the fake psychic as Shawn? Even if it was only mentally…

"Fuck," he swore, sitting up in bed and throwing off the blankets. He padded across the room and grabbed his pants, slipping them on. He put on the shirt he'd worn to work only hours earlier, doing the buttons as he headed toward the front door. He tried to think about what all this meant for him. If he confessed that he liked Spencer, that he actually had feelings for him…he'd never live it down. His reputation at work for being a hard ass would go right out the window.

Nobody would let him forget.

Could he even change? Could he stop being so curt and rude with the man he was falling in love with? It would be a big change for him, one he wasn't entirely sure he could make.

Slipping on his shoes he checked his cell phone for the time. An hour until midnight. Was it too late to be calling on Spencer?