Another 3 part arc. Enjoy. :)
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Lassiter continued working, to the untrained eye completely oblivious to the sound being made at an excruciatingly precise rate. He had no idea what was on the papers in front of him. The highlights and underlines were totally at random.
But he couldn't betray a hint of weakness. Failure was not an option.
o.o
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Shawn could see the signs of irritation, the building tension, the developing twitch of the left eye that was masked a moment later by regular, deliberate blinks. The noise was beginning to grate on his own nerves, but he refused to give in until he had won or until he ran out of bubbles.
Good thing he'd gotten the extra large box. It might take him all 50 square feet before victory was his, but he'd be here for the very last one if that's what it took.
o.o
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"How long is he going to do that?" Juliet asked through gritted teeth.
"Until Lassiter cracks or he runs out of bubbles. Or the shift ends and Lassiter goes home."
Juliet glanced at her clock and back at the sheet of bubbles. At the rate he was going end of shift would be here long before he ran out of ammunition.
And with Lassiter on desk duty after tearing his ACL in pursuit of a suspect, there was no chance of a call to go out into the field mercifully intervening.
"Six more hours," she muttered as she tried to focus on her own paperwork. "I can handle that."
Gus shook his head. "You do not want that to be the way this ends."
"Why not?" she asked, brow furrowing. "You think an explosion of anger and possible discharge of a service weapon would be better?"
Gus shook his head. "I'm saying that none of the solutions are good. But end of shift is the worst."
"Why?"
"Because Shawn will have a chance to restock before tomorrow."
Juliet's gaze unfocused as the horror of that washed over her.
She couldn't take another day of this. She wasn't sure she could take another hour, but she knew she couldn't take another day. She didn't want Shawn to be shot either, especially at the hands of her partner.
She swallowed a whimper and turned her gaze to Gus. There had to be another way.
"What's option four?"
Gus pulled his gaze away from the throbbing vein in Lassiter's forehead and frowned.
"What?"
"What's option four?"
"There is no option four. Shawn will keep doing this until he runs out of bubbles or the shift ends—in which case he'll go get more—or Lassiter reacts. Those are all the options there are."
"I refuse to believe that. There has to be another way."
"There isn't. Look, Juliet, I understand your problem. I've been dealing with it for thirty years now. I've never found another way. There just isn't an option four."
Juliet's eyes went back to the two men across the open hall.
Flicking back and forth, she considered all the variables, searching for the one that had been missed.
Shawn continued to pop bubbles, but his eyes strayed from Lassiter as if he felt her watching him. He grinned roguishly and winked, but the popping never faltered as he went back to observing his prey.
And suddenly she knew what option four was.
"I've got it."
"What?" Gus demanded, dropping his magazine into his lap. "You can't. There is no option four."
Juliet opened her desk drawn and pulled out her purse, then stood. "Don't feel bad, Gus. You never found option four because option four didn't exist. But it does now."
Gus stared at her until she vanished from sight, then shook his head and went back to her magazine.
There was no option four, but she'd never believe him. She'd just have to figure it out on her own.
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