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: T

Spoilers: Through current episodes, particularly strong from Heeeeere's Lassie.

Chapter Fourteen: Searching For a Heart

Juliet didn't know how a "drive" turned into a headlong rush to Prospect Gardens, but soon she found herself parked in front of the gloomy structure and climbing out of the driver's seat. Moving on pure momentum, she walked through the doors into the art deco lobby and hit the call button for the creepy old elevator. Strangely, this time around she felt no apprehension whatsoever as the gold mirrored doors slid shut behind her. The whole building had taken on a definite if ephemeral aura of welcome.

At the fifth floor the doors opened to find her face-to-face, more or less, with another woman. Short and heavily pregnant. Although she hadn't met Lassiter's nearest neighbors since they'd been out of town when she took part in his "Painting Party" when he first moved in, Juliet realized this must be Rose Marie Farrow.

"Hello," the woman said with a bright smile. "Are you new in the building?"

"Hi, no, I'm just visiting," Juliet said. "I'm Juliet O'Hara, I'm Detective Lassiter's partner."

"Really?" Rose Marie said, and gave Juliet the once-over in that peculiar over-interested way specific to Women Bearing Misapprehensions. "Wow. You're…not what I would have expected."

Juliet knew the woman had misconstrued the meaning of the term "partner," it would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply correct her and go on about her merry way. Instead she said, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing against you, dear, or him, exactly, it's just…well, you seem a little bit out of his league, you know what I mean? You look so…up."

"Up?"

"Perky. Sociable. Beautiful. And he just seems so…stand-offish. And if you'll forgive me for saying, a bit peculiar."

"In what way?"

"Well, there's the light bulb issue, for one thing," Rose Marie said. "Lloyd might have caved eventually, I suppose, but the new building manager, Harold, well he's just cowed by Mr. Lassiter. There isn't a light bulb over forty watts in the entire building anymore."

"Carlton is very safety conscious, Mrs. Farrow, and the building does have old wiring." Which didn't explain why his previous condo also never vaunted a light bulb of more than forty watts, as that had been all-new up-to-code construction, but Rose Marie Farrow and her Bump didn't need to know that.

"I suppose. But he's peculiar in other ways, too. Doesn't mix, you know? Just sits in his apartment all day listening to old music, and sometimes there's a lot of banging around in there, like he's throwing things. And sometimes it sounds like he's talking to himself."

"All day?" Juliet asked, with an alarmingly elevated brow.

"Pretty much," Rose Marie affirmed. "The music and banging, at any rate. I don't normally hear him talking until late afternoon or early evening."

That's because that's the only time he's actually home, Juliet thought. "How well have you been able to hear what he's saying?" she asked.

"Oh not very well," Rose Marie said. "Our living rooms abut each other, you know, but the walls in this building are pretty thick. But I think I should tell you - today I think he's reached a whole other level of peculiarity. Instead of just talking to himself, he's actually holding conversations. With the radio."

Juliet nodded slowly. "I understand your fears, Mrs. Farrow, but actually what you're overhearing is an old police academy trick for working out cases," she lied glibly. "Forces the brain to refocus itself so that details stand out instead of getting mixed in with all the extraneous information. It can certainly be disconcerting when you don't understand what's happening, but it's really nothing to be concerned about."

"…Oh, I see," Rose Marie said doubtfully. "Well, that is a relief, I guess."

"If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Farrow, I have official police business to discuss with Detective Lassiter."

"Oh. Oh! Of course! Silly me. I'm sorry to have kept you, officer. Have a good day." She stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed behind her. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief. She walked up to the door of unit five thirty-six. All was quiet inside. She knocked. Music started to play, very quietly.

"Darkness in the morning, shadows on the land. Certain individuals aren't sticking with the plan. And I'm searching for a heart, searching everyone. They say love conquers all. You can't start it like a car, you can't stop it with a gun."

The door opened with a gentle click. No one stood on the other side. Juliet peered into the unlit condo and saw Lassiter sitting on the couch in the living room, head back and eyes closed. She was fairly certain he was sound asleep. She tiptoed inside and closed the door behind her.

"Carlton?" she ventured in a whisper. "Carlton?"

No response. As she drew near she could see his eyes rolling and twitching at high speed under his dark-fringed eyelids. He was dreaming. She smiled. Somehow she doubted that he had very many happy dreams, but at least this one didn't look like a nightmare, at least from the outside. She didn't want to wake him up but he didn't look terribly comfortable with his neck ratcheted back like that and his long legs stretched across the floor with no support. She carefully eased him over onto his side and arranged his long limbs into a relatively secure position on the tiny couch.

"Leaving in the evening, traveling at night, staying inconspicuous. I'm staying out of sight. And I'm searching for a heart. Searching everyone. They say love conquers all. You can't start it like a car, you can't stop it with a gun.

"They tell me love requires a little standing in line, and I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long long time. I've been pacing the floor, I've been watching the door. Meanwhile I'll keep searching for a heart."

Juliet knelt by the side of the couch and arranged the cushions under her partner's head so that he looked a bit more comfortable. He never made the slightest sign of waking, though he did snuggle sleepily into the pillow once she had it in the right place. Her smile became a grin. Oh, how he would grump if he knew how cute he looked, sound asleep and dreaming. He hated any suggestion that any part of his appearance or personality could at any time qualify as "cute," but he'd be blushing even as he growled about it. Likewise, he growled if someone made the suggestion that he was in any way "sweet." But in his endearingly clumsy way he could be very sweet. Sweet and cute. Seemed like a winning combination once you added it to the mitigating mix of personality traits and character flaws that combined to make him so very different, not just to Shawn Spencer but to any man she'd ever known. Of course, if he were to suddenly startle awake right now she wouldn't find staring down the barrel of whatever gun he had hidden in the loveseat very sweet or cute. His paranoia was unnerving but also justified - "A lot of people want to kill me," he'd said once. "I take great pride in that." She brushed his hair back from his face with her fingers and marveled again at the incredible raw silk texture of it. Wasn't graying hair supposed to be coarse?

The song faded out and a new one began. It was clearly the same artist, a singer she wasn't familiar with, so for all she knew it was merely the next song on the album, whatever album that happened to be. But somehow she doubted it, irrational as it seemed.

"If you're all alone, if you need someone, call me up and I'll come running. Reconsider me, reconsider me. If it's still the past that makes you doubt, darling that was then, and this is now. Reconsider me, reconsider me. And I'll never make you sad again, 'cause I swear that I've changed since then, and I promise that I'll never make you cry. Lets let bygones be forgotten. Reconsider me, reconsider me. Reconsider me, reconsider me."

Carlton had changed a lot over the time she'd known him, particularly in the past couple of years. In some ways he was still as tightly wound as a watch spring but he'd loosened up a lot. He was a lot less likely these days to say something rampageously inappropriate (although she was still pondering that quick retort to the art museum's curator: "Could you put a value on your father?" the man had sneered, and Carlton had immediately popped up with "387 thousand," which made Juliet wonder if she should investigate any suspicious circumstances surrounding the elder Lassiter, wherever he was and if he was even still living), and he was a little more likely to smile and say something nice. He'd learned, more or less, to accept and even to dispense the occasional hug, and he actually now possessed a reasonably casual wardrobe. Of course, she was also sure he was still wearing the military garters - Socks up and tails down! HUAH! - but that didn't bother her. "Tucked in" was nice, particularly after seven months of "artfully disheveled."

She realized she was seriously considering him in terms of a romantic relationship, which should have been a little bit frightening…but it wasn't. Not at all.

"Well I wrote our names a thousand times, just to see yours sitting next to mine," Garth Brooks piped up from the CD player in the bedroom, and now Juliet knew for certain that something was pulling the lyrical strings. "And I sent you flowers, card unsigned. Anonymous. And in days to come, like days that passed, my heart beats for you - always has. Though you know me only as anonymous."

Had Carlton been in love with her? Was he still? She didn't know, not for certain, but she had strong suspicions. She wanted him to be happy - he'd more than earned that, it wasn't too much to ask for a friend. And Chief Vick, in the past, had more than tacitly suggested that it was her duty as his partner to ensure that he got what he needed to keep functioning…

…and, come to think of it, that was a two-way street, wasn't it? Odd how she'd never stopped to consider that before, even though looking back she saw quite clearly all the ways Carlton worked to honor that arrangement. He'd even worked his ass off to accept what must have been a completely unacceptable relationship between her and Shawn just because it was what she wanted, because it made her happy that he was able to set aside his anger and his ego and at least pretend that everything was okay.

At this distance she could see the slight swelling in his jaw on the left side. She was a little ashamed that she hadn't noticed it earlier. And then she saw something else she thought she should have noticed earlier - his left ear bore the indentation of a piercing, probably long since closed up. She grinned to picture Carlton Lassiter with an earring, last remaining indication of a previously unsuspected rebellious phase. Probably got it at college, when he first got out from under that strict Catholic upbringing, a dirty little secret he'd hide every time he went home for a visit. Maybe she should have noticed it some time ago, but she thought she knew why she hadn't - usually the only time she was at eye level with his earlobes she was on the other side of him, in the passenger seat of the cruiser.

Her hand kept stroking his hair and she saw that he was smiling slightly, eyes still rolling in that oddly active dream state. She hoped he was having a good dream. She didn't think he let himself dream often enough.