Chapter Seven

There's a deleted scene in "Daredevils!" that ties up the getting-Lassiter-a-date storyline in an interesting way. I've taken that and expanded it a little here. Besides, there aren't enough Vick-Juliet scenes in this damn show.

-o-O-o-

Usually, Juliet hated overnights. The station was too dark, for one – why did they find it necessary to turn off half the lights just because some of the staff were missing? On top of that, the night shift disrupted her sleep schedule for days afterward, especially once she switched back to regular hours. But everybody had to take their turn at overnights occasionally, and Juliet was a team player.

Besides, she did kind of enjoy the hush of the bullpen after dark. She'd learned to concentrate in any kind of ruckus, but found reassurance in a quiet station. The leisurely clacking of shoes somewhere down the hall (nobody in a rush at this time of night) reminded her that she wasn't alone in the universe, and here she was, actually getting something done for once.

The fact that she sat here tonight in lieu of her partner filled her with an unexpected satisfaction. He'd certainly covered for her many times in the past – if anything, he almost seemed to welcome it – so she more than owed him. A fair number of those occasions were for Juliet's own dates, and though he grumbled about her bustling social calendar, he never indicated that it was too much for him.

Juliet realized that she should work a little harder to balance the scales on that front.

Maybe she'd have that chance soon, she mused. Neither he nor Deborah had been in touch, which was a good sign. Probably. If the date had ended in disaster, surely one of them would have complained about Juliet's poor judgment in bringing them together.

Then again, maybe neither of them had reached out because the date wasn't over. Juliet checked the time on her phone display: quarter to midnight. Lassiter obviously knew she'd be at the station now, so he could have followed up with a report on how the date went. Then again, he was a guy, and notoriously close-mouthed about everything without a little prodding on Juliet's end.

Still, she couldn't help but imagine her partner and Deborah really hitting it off, extending their evening to somebody's home, or bedroom…. Yes, that was one possible outcome, she thought. Some might say the ideal outcome. Why did the thought of it make her feel so unsettled?

Well, nothing to be done about it. Juliet dragged her attention back to the screen. She'd been surprised to wake up from an afternoon nap to find a message from Shawn offering information on the still-unconscious Anita's boyfriend. Most surprising was the fact that he shared the name – Diego Rogers – with a minimum of psychic brouhaha. She smiled to think of his frustration at showing up to the station with critical information on a Saturday afternoon to find none of his usual contacts there. He'd probably say something like, The spirits don't recognize earthly distractions like weekends, Lassie.

Though she could do with less of the brouhaha part, Juliet found Shawn's psychic contributions to their cases nothing short of astounding – most of the time. In Miami, she'd never worked with any psychics, and whether that was because there weren't any genuine ones around or due to some departmental prejudice, she didn't know.

Yet again, Shawn's information, however obtained, proved fruitful. Juliet ran the name through a background check, and it generated results. However, Diego Rogers was not the perpetrator of a crime but witness to one, a gift store robbery. In fact, he'd tried to intervene on behalf of the terrified shop clerk.

What had started as a promising lead now suggested otherwise. Sure, it was possible that this man could be capable of a violent assault, but Juliet had her doubts.

As she contemplated the disappointing break in the case, she noticed Chief Vick walk out of her office. The chief cast an odd look at the chairs, still lined up along the open walkway after the daredevil stunts that had consumed the bullpen over the past few days. Juliet felt a twinge of embarrassment; as the ranking detective at the time, she should have ordered a stop to the hijinks long before McNab had to report to Occupational Health. For that matter, she ought not to have let Shawn start it in the first place.

"Hey, I thought Detective Lassiter was on overnights," Vick said.

"Oh, I'm covering." At least this was something she could be proud of. "Amazingly, he has a date tonight. So, mission accomplished." She brushed her hands in triumph.

Vick paused at the side of her desk. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I did what you asked… kept him on course." Vick still seemed confused, and Juliet couldn't figure out why – their conversation had been less than a week ago. "I fixed his dating situation."

"What?" Was Vick appalled? "What are you talking about? I meant take him out for a hot dog and tell him to straighten up." Yes, Vick was definitely appalled.

Juliet froze. When she laid it out as plainly as that, it did seem a little ridiculous, what she had done. But then, wasn't Vick the one who'd proposed an elaborate scenario that involved locking her partner in a room until he came to his senses?

Vick leaned in, laughing a little condescendingly. "O'Hara. Don't get involved in your partner's private life." She waited a beat, just long enough for dramatic weight. "It always ends in disaster."

Juliet opened her mouth but couldn't find a reasonable defense. Which disaster was Vick referring to – perhaps the one involving Lassiter's previous partner? She'd never heard the true story of that, and only knew that his skittishness around the topic meant that there was something messy there, something to hide.

Vick shook her head. "God, I guess I should count myself lucky you didn't interpret that as being personally responsible for solving Lassiter's… issues."

Eyes widening, Juliet couldn't stop an image flashing to mind of Lassiter, gaze intense as he moved in close to her face.

As if sensing her panic, Vick softened. "You need to let your partner sort himself out."

"So… you're saying I shouldn't handcuff him to a radiator?"

Vick considered. "Let's not take any options off the table yet."

For a moment, Juliet flirted with the idea of asking the chief about Lassiter before her arrival, if not directly about his former partner. She'd tried asking soon after her arrival, when the rumors started circulating around the station. Vick brushed past the question, citing confidentiality, while imploring her to speak with her immediately if she encountered any difficulty with the head detective. That told her all she needed to know, and yet nothing.

If ever there was a time to revisit the topic, it was late Saturday night in an empty station. Before Juliet could open her mouth, however, Vick looked down at the computer screen. "How's the case coming along?"

She turned back to her screen, still displaying a profile of Diego Rogers. "Well, we have a lead on a boyfriend, with some help from Shawn Spencer."

Vick shook her head. "Uh-uh. I can't authorize Psych getting involved in this. It's not a homicide, so we can't budget hiring a consultant."

Juliet hesitated. "Oh. Of course. I didn't hire Shawn, obviously. He kind of… volunteered the information."

"Let's make sure that remains a volunteer effort, then." Vick favored her with a hard glance, then looked back at the screen. "Any evidence pointing his way?"

"Not exactly. The problem is, we don't have evidence pointing in any direction right now. This guy was our first big break, but I'm not sure he fits the profile. See? He tried to stop a crime."

Vick scanned the report. "Hmm. And no witnesses?"

"None that we can find so far. When our victim wakes up, we might have a better idea of where to go from here."

Vick crossed her arms and returned her steely gaze to Juliet. "So what does your instinct say?"

It felt like a test. "I mean, it could be a random attack. Maybe a drunk patron got upset about last call or something…"

"But?"

Juliet took a deep breath. "There's something about the way the body was positioned, intentionally buried under trash. A robber would have shoved her aside once he got the cash, but this felt… deliberate." She looked up at Vick. "As if someone wanted to humiliate her."

A faint smile came to the chief's lips. "Smart thinking, detective. Keep at it." She stepped back and turned back to her office. "And when you get a minute, put those chairs back where they belong."

"Yes, Chief." Juliet ducked her head, hoping that she didn't look personally guilty.

The thing that Juliet mostly appreciated but sometimes loathed about Chief Vick was her propensity to blithely not ask questions to which she did not want to know the answer. Helpful in cases like this, where Juliet preferred not to admit to the shenanigans that she'd been party to at the station earlier. Less useful when she expanded her 'ignorance is bliss' policy across the board, such as when Juliet wanted answers.

Juliet walked over to the lineup of chairs, fully prepared to drag them back to their positions next to the other detectives' desks. For a moment, though, she paused and let her eyes drift along the length of the wooden seats. It was quite a distance, not easily surmounted, even by McNab, whose height nearly matched the distance. In any case, it was stupid, the stunts the boys were doing, all for the sake of a little applause from the squad. She was better than that.

Dammit. Who said she couldn't make it over these chairs? Yes, it was a stupid stunt, but only if she was trying to parade around a bunch of coworkers. She could do this, right now, just for herself, to prove she could. No one was watching; there was no need to feel silly about it.

Juliet was feeling good. Triumphant. She'd gotten Lassiter a date, despite even his own doubts. She had a break in a case, and she was going to solve it, witnesses be damned.

She'd done some gymnastics as a child, track and field in high school. Leaping over a line of chairs was basically like hurdles. Juliet slipped off her flats, the tiled floor cool against her bare feet.

Centering herself, she inhaled, then sprinted forward and pressed her toes into the floor, giving her lift. For one breathless moment, she hung in the air, leg stretched out in front of her. Then it was over: she landed on the opposite side of the chairs. She hopped a little to catch her footing, allowing herself a tiny fist pump of victory.

She could do anything.