A/N: this one is kinda long, but I think you'll like it. tell me what you think!

He let the door to his small, modest house slam shut, not caring who he woke up. He made his way towards the bedroom, and let it open all the way, not trying to flitter the stream of bright hallway light from entering his dark bedroom. The light revealed her asleep, for a moment, peacefully in the shirt he was wearing earlier today. A small smile crept on his face, despite his mood. He had been looking for that shirt after he received the call, and could not find it. She had hidden it, in hopes he would stay in bed with her after her first argument of the fact they had not seen each other in six weeks since she was stuck in Los Angeles on work did not convince him to stay.

The light woke her though, and after a few brief moments of grumbling, she smiled up at him and mumbled, still half asleep, "How'd everything go?"

"You're still here?" he questioned with cruelness he did not really mean. He just could not see her right now, let alone lay next to her.

His tone woke her up like a cold shower. Replying weakly, "Yeah, I thought I'd stay to see if you needed anything."

"Well, I don't you can just go."

"Fine," she replied chilly.

As she threw off the covers, he sat on the bed. As she pulled on pants, he began unbuttoning his shirt, but he was having difficulty due to his arm being in a sling. She saw this and took pity.

"Here, let me help," she offered kneeling next to him. Her fingers began to intertwine with the buttons, but he jerked away from her helpful hand without a word. Sighing, she mused, "Tough case?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," he told her unkindly.

"All right," she stated. She refused to force him to talk, he never forced her to. That was the rules to this thing they had going on. Treat the other the same way they treated you, at that moment. If one was distant that night, the other was distant. If one was in a cuddling mood, so was the other.

She started to unbutton his shirt she was wearing, searching for her own. Carlton scanned the floor for it too, but could not see it. "You can just wear that, I'll find your shirt later."

'You want to get rid of me that much?' she thought, but kept that question to herself. Instead she just nodded and told him, "I'll wash it before I give it back."

He nodded his acknowledgment. With that slightest head movement she left.

Carlton was grumpy the next day at work. It was very clear to everyone there. However, everyone there just blamed it on the lack of sleep. No one really knew why he was so cranky, not even the girl he was cranky at.

And when Chief Karen Vick yelled out, "Detective Lassiter and O'Hara, in my office, now!"

Carlton glowered at some random spot on the ceiling before turning and marching into the office. Shawn and Gus were already sitting in the office. Carlton glared at them before settling into a chair. Once everyone was settled in the office, Karen began, "So, who thinks this wasn't a suicide?"

Only Shawn and Lassiter raised their hands.

Karen groaned and began rubbing her temples for the headache that was sure to form. "Why?"

"The spirits tell me that the man had something valuable in his briefcase that he was killed for," Shawn explained. "Also, why in the world would he commit suicide in a public place, but still pay for his meal?"

"All right, I guess that is a somewhat valid point," Karen admitted grudgingly.

"Oh please," Carlton muttered.

"Detective Lassiter, do you have anything better to add?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing on him. He became silent, giving her some satisfaction. "I thought not, that's why I'm having her come in."

The chief said that last part with so much distain that it shocked Shawn, Gus and Juliet. They were shocked, it sounded like the chief truly hated this woman, not just annoyed like she gets with Shawn and Gus, but hate.

"In the name of sweet justice, not her, we don't need her," Lassiter almost pleaded.

"Wait, who is she?" Juliet asked, glancing between her boss and her partner.

"She is someone we very rarely call in, only in extreme cases," Karen explained. "She works with the FBI and is an expert when it comes to how criminals try to hide crimes. For the past two years, thanks to Mr. Spencer here we have been able to avoid calling her in, but this time I don't think Mr. Spencer's inner eye is enough."

"My all seeing inner eye," Shawn corrected jokingly.

"Oh, does it get HBO?" a voice from the door asked in a jesting mood.

They all turned around to see who spoke. It was a woman, almost the age of the chief, but she was someone who aged gracefully. She had deep chestnut hair, with matching brown eyes. Her smile was warm and deceiving. She was beautiful though, there was no question about it.

"Why, yes it does receive HBO and all I have to say is I found the ending to 'The Soprano's' very disappointing," Shawn joked, as he got up to greet her. "Hi, I'm Shawn Spencer, Psychic Extraordinaire."

"Hello Psychic, tell me, how's my future looking?" she asked, grinning at him.

"Well let me ask you something first, you seeing anyone because I see a big fight with someone you were once close with coming up," Shawn told her.

"That's so interesting," she stated sarcastically, "especially since I'm not dating anyone right now."

"Well, the fight is probably with a co-worker or something then," Shawn clarified, unfazed by her sarcasm. "And if you ever need someone to talk to, who better then someone who already knows what you're going to say?"

She let out a small laugh and replied, "I'll keep it in mind Psychic."

"I believed I called you down here for business, not to flirt with my employees," Karen scolded, getting this new woman's full attention.

Her brown eyes narrowed on Karen as she began walking towards the desk. "Hello again Chief Vick, I heard you popped out a little brat, congratulations."

"Yes, forgive me for not sending you an invite to the christening," Karen told her coolly. "But I'm pretty sure the Feds still had you under house arrest then. And by the way, back from Los Angeles so soon? I was hoping you'd be reassigned there."

"Oh no, it was never house arrest, just being detained in a warehouse for four months, and Los Angeles was too dirty for me, I need a clean environment to work," the woman corrected her casually. "Those six weeks were six weeks too long."

"Hold on," Juliet interjected, "who is this woman and why has she been under house arrest and why are we trusting her?"

"This Gypsy," Karen introduced everyone. "And Carlton, care to explain the rest?"

Gypsy whirled around as if she had just noticed Carlton in the room, when in truth he was the first person she looked at. She smirked at him. "Hello Detective Lassiter, long time no see, miss me?"

"Not in a million years Gypsy," he replied, grinning back. "Sorry you didn't like Los Angeles, I'll be sure to tell the Feds that to make sure they send you back."

"Oh good, that way hopefully they'll make my missions longer so I don't have to see you as often."

Juliet coughed, interrupting this string of insults, or lighthearted teasing, or even, god forbid, flirting. She saw the look in Gypsy's eyes and there was no meanness or hatred towards Lassiter. But still, the thought of someone liking stone cold-hearted Lassiter was too much for her to believe.

"Hello Blondie, need a cough drop?" she asked patronizingly.

"I'm just still not sure why we are trusting you," Juliet explained. "What did you do any to get arrested?"

"I was never arrested," Gypsy corrected.

"Please, if you're brought in handcuffs, you can't say you came in on your own," Carlton retorted.

"I let you bring me in Detective Lassiter, thought you need some shred of dignity to remain intact," she replied coolly.

Juliet coughed again.

"Chief, I think your detective is sick, you should give her the day off," Gypsy said, shooting a glare at Juliet.

"Gypsy, just tell them about why you work for the Feds and why you are basically their little monkey," Karen commanded.

"I am not their monkey, they do not control me," Gypsy clarified.

"Please when they say jump, you jump," Karen responded. "You're their pet."

Juliet coughed a little fiercer this time.

"Seriously, go get that cough checked out," Gypsy yelled at her. "Fine, for those of you who don't know, I'm a recovering 'for hire'."

"What?" Gus was the first one to speak after several long awkward and confused moments of silence.

"I used to be a 'for hire', you know someone you give a large sum of money to and I take care of your problem," she spelled out.

"Oh, a hit man!" Shawn deduced and then realized what he said. "You were a hit man!!"

"For hire, hit woman, contract killer, paid gun, anyone of those would work," Gypsy stated, trying to hide her smile of pride at Shawn, Gus and Juliet's shocked faces. Gus had even gone as far to get out of his chair and as far away from this killer as possible.

"Oh, so she was a criminal who killed people… why do we trust her?" Juliet asked, giving Gypsy a once over with her eyes. Gypsy did not look like a dangerous criminal, but looks were deceiving.

"She did turn herself in," Karen explained. "She gave the Feds information and in exchange they offered her no jail time, but she was required to work for them, for what, at least four years?"

"Eight," Gypsy replied through gritted teeth.

"And not only are you their little monkey, but you're ours too," Karen informed everyone. "For at least six more years Gypsy. Six long years before you even get a glimmer of freedom."

The room got very still and cold. There was a serious hatred between these two different women, and this anger was frightening for Juliet to observe.

"Chief, why don't you just tell Gypsy why she's here," Carlton suggested, breaking the tension.

Karen glared at him for a moment, hating that he reminded her that she needed this criminal's help. She sighed and tossed over the case file, explaining, "Stephen McLean was found dead in a restaurant bathroom. Looks like a suicide, but looks are deceiving, right Gypsy? There was a bottle of empty pills was found with him, and he's missing his briefcase."

"Occupation?" Gypsy questioned, glancing through the folder. She had to a least pretend that this was the first time she was hearing about this.

Carlton's eyes narrowed at Gypsy's causally attitude. There was something off about her mood that caused suspicion in his mind.

"He was a TV executive," Karen answered Gypsy's question.

"Chief, if there's nothing else then just filling in this criminal, mind if I go catch up on some paper work?" Carlton requested.

She nodded, but kept her eyes on Gypsy. Gypsy returned the stare, fighting her urges to question Carlton about his sudden departure.

Right before Carlton shut the door, Karen questioned, "Why does the occupation matter Gypsy?"

Sighing, he walked over to his desk to make a very important phone call. With in a few minutes the call was over and Carlton settled on finishing paper work, to pass the time till he had a chance to talk to Gypsy alone. But he could not focus on his work, he kept glancing up at the door waiting for her to come out. He saw Gus, Juliet and Shawn walk out, deep in conversation. Carlton guessed they were talking about Gypsy, she had a habit of always being the center of the conversation. He knew the chief would keep Gypsy back to talk to her alone, well more likely threaten her with no witnesses.

Finally she walked out of the office, and glanced around, probably looking for him. As she made her away across the squad room, Carlton quickly stood up and met her halfway. He blocked her exit and asked intimidating, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I did what I came here to do, so I was planning on leaving," she told him, stepping up to him. She tried to be just as intimidating as him, she was close, except for the fact she was about a head shorter then him.

"What was that? To lie to us?" he questioned, staring into her eyes. She did not blink.

"I didn't lie."

"Then what you tell the chief?"

"I told her it probably wasn't a suicide, that since he worked in Hollywood and it was most likely a professional hit. Then I gave her the name Eric Sanders since he's big in the Hollywood hit man racket," she explained casually.

"Shouldn't you have given the chief a name more like Erica?" he interrogated.

She blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"In a restaurant an individual stands out more then a couple, so a hit man would want to be part of a couple, right?" She did not answer him. "There was a couple of woman at the restaurant. One was you, who was the other?"

She stepped away from him. "I wasn't there," she stated coolly.

"Willing to bet your life on that?" he replied just as coolly. "You were there, I could put you in a lineup and have the waiter point you out. And if I do that, then that sweet little deal you have with the Feds is revoked."

"You wouldn't," she dared.

"I already made the call," he told her smugly.

She sized him up, trying to tell if he was bluffing. There was something about his stance that told her he wasn't, and that scared her. What really increased her fear was looking past Carlton to see a man in a dark suit enter the precinct. She did not even need to see his face, she recognized him as a Fed instantly.

"Carlton, no!" she whispered, panicked as she ducked down, using him as a body shield. "He can't see me."

Carlton was squirming on the inside about how guilty he was beginning to feel about doing this to her. But he had to steady himself and continue. "Tell me her name."

"Please Carlton," she pleaded, glancing up into is crystal blue eyes. "Hide me."

"Tell me who she is and I'll get ride of him," Carlton bargained.

"She's my best friend, can't we talk about this later?"

"He's heading this way," he warned.

"Carla, her name I know her by is Carla Pendas," she told him quickly.

He nodded and ordered, "All right, follow me."

He grabbed her shoulders and led her towards an interrogation room. He stuck her in the room that could see into the other room. He put up his hands motioning for her wait and then quickly left. Gypsy sighed and nervously ran a hand through her hair.

Carlton sought out the man who struck so much fear in Gypsy's heart. He found him quickly, the Fed sticking out among the cops. Walking up to him, Carlton straightening his jacket and tie. "Jefferson? Good to see you again," he greeted, his hand stretched out.

"Lassiter, so what's so urgent?" Jefferson asked. Jefferson was an average FBI worker. Dark suit, dark glasses, little emotion. He was in a sense, Gypsy's parole officer. He told her what cases she could take, where she could go, and who she could see. Basically he controlled her, and he liked the power over her a little too much. Gypsy always made sure to limit her time with him as little as possible.

Lassiter glanced around and answered, "Let's talk about this in private."

Jefferson nodded and Carlton led him towards the interrogation room, the side that Gypsy could peer into. Jefferson sat down at the table, and asked, "So, what's going on?"

"Well about the situation I called you about, you can forget about it," Carlton told him.

"Really? I came all this way for nothing?" Jefferson asked.

"Yeah, the situation I called you about didn't pan out," Carlton explained.

"Nothing? No news for me?"

"Nothing."

Jefferson sighed and propped his feet up on the table. "Well this was a waste of my very precious time. So what happened with the kidnapped girl?"

Gypsy stared at him through the glass. Kidnapping? He came here for a kidnapping? Carlton played her, and she found despicable and slightly attractive.

"No, the kid just ran away and made it look like a kidnapping," Carlton lied. "She came back though. Well, sorry to waste your time, you probably have a lot to do."

As Carlton guided Jefferson to the door, Gypsy was too preoccupied glaring at Carlton to notice Juliet O'Hara enter the room. Gypsy was too busy muttering to herself, "Oh he is going to get it."

Carlton turned to the mirror, grinning smugly at her. She shook her head angrily and went into the room, ready to yell, totally forgetting that Juliet would be able to hear every word.

"You little prick!" Gypsy cried, slamming the door behind her.

"What? Something bothering you my dear?" Carlton asked innocently.

Gypsy strode up to him up and poked him in the chest. "You made me believe you had called Jefferson. You were going to sell me out."

"Oh you should know that I would never call Jefferson on you, that man is such a sleaze ball," he told her, grinning.

"You wouldn't?" she questioned sweetly, a smile forming on her face.

"What and risk losing you to Los Angeles forever? I'm not gonna lose you," Carlton assured her softly. He wrapped his good arm around her waist. "I promise Delilah."

He brought his lips down to hers and let his lips brush against hers. She quivered at the pleasant sensation, bringing her hand up to caress his face. However, she snapped back to reality at a disturbing thought.

She pushed him off her and stated, "I don't think you should do that Detective Lassiter, and I really don't think you should call me by my first name."

"Why?"

"Because your blonde partner is on the other side of the glass."

"What?" The color drained from Carlton's face.

Juliet hit the intercom and asked, "Do you two want some privacy?"