CHAPTER TWO

. . . .

. . .

Lassiter, back at his desk, logged off his computer and snatched up his jacket in one fairly fluid motion, totally focused on getting the hell out as fast as he could.

Henry looked up from his own computer and asked, "As the consultants' liaison, is there something I need to know about your closed door session with Vick just now?"

"Nope." He turned to leave, and saw Spencer and Juliet intersecting; Juliet was headed straight at him and Spencer's aim was to cut her off. Lassiter didn't have time for Spencer-games, not now, but the two of them converged in the small space directly in front of him.

He glanced at Juliet, noting her anxiety, noting that he was touched, noting that he couldn't deal with it at the present time.

Spencer said, "So! Who wants to go visit Woody?"

"Carlton," Juliet started, ignoring Spencer.

"Jules! Don't interrupt." He put a hand on her shoulder and she jerked back; his eyes widened and just for a moment, he stopped talking.

"Excuse me," Lassiter said flatly, and started to push between them. Juliet grasped his arm, and Spencer jumped in front of him. He allowed the idea of Juliet's concern to wash over him for a moment, just enough to stop his urge to punch Spencer. "Get out of my way."

"Shawn, leave." Juliet let go of Lassiter and glared at Shawn.

"What's up with Mr. Roboto? Do you think he could actually shoot real lasers out of those eyes?" Spencer peered at him with mock interest. "Come on, Woody said he had the preliminary ready, so we gotta jet."

"Spencer," Lassiter ground out, "if you don't get the hell out of my way, I will shoot you where you stand."

Spencer blinked. Then he grinned. "Let me lie down first. Be more comfortable."

"Shawn!" Juliet nearly yelled, rounding on him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Leave it, O'Hara. I'm out for the rest of the day." He pushed through at last, aware that it wasn't an accident that his shove to Spencer's shoulder was harder than it needed to be.

He could hear Juliet snapping and Spencer protesting and when he slowed to look over his shoulder, he saw Juliet again aiming for him and Spencer in pursuit—but Spencer was jerked back short by his father, who said loud enough for all to hear, "Think again, boy. The lady has a gun." Huh. Unexpected ally, though he was pretty sure Henry had done it for Juliet, not him.

Juliet caught up when he was nearly to his car, and it was her "Dammit, Carlton, I will shoot!" which finally got through. He spun at the door to the sedan, and faced her, meeting her blue-gray gaze impassively.

"What was all that back there? In Vick's office? Threatening to quit?"

"It wasn't a threat, O'Hara. I gave her a choice."

Juliet caught her breath, and stalked up to him. "And did you honestly just try to fob me off on someone else?"

She was angry. No, upset. No, both.

Lassiter sighed. "Of course not."

"Well, it sounded like it. It sounded like you wanted a new partner, so you could—"

"O'Hara, dammit, no. I don't want a new partner. Why the hell would I want a new partner?" He forced himself to loosen his impossibly tight grip on his keys. "Just because I draw a line in the sand doesn't mean you have to get dragged in. I won't bring you down if I can avoid it."

She was only about a foot away now, and somehow he felt shorter under the spotlight of her glare. "Carlton, any line you draw goes for both of us. We're partners. We deal with Shawn together."

He stiffened. "No. We don't." Spencer was her boyfriend, and no matter how doltish, he loved her; anyone could see that, and it changed everything about how they dealt with him.

Juliet let out a breath. "No. I guess we don't. But we should. You should have asked me—no. You shouldn't have had to ask me. I can't believe this." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing for you to be sorry for. Look, tell Vick I'm taking the day, all right?" He started to unlock the door.

"Carlton, wait. Wait. Just—wait!"

Lassiter stopped and stilled himself.

"Is this… how long have you been thinking about this? About stepping down?"

He shrugged. "Awhile. I just don't see how else to solve the problem, O'Hara."

Her mouth fell open. "Seriously? What if Vick doesn't agree?"

"Then I quit," he said evenly. "And I go somewhere else and find a whole new thorn in my side."

"Carlton! My God, this is crazy. This is—how could it get this far without you telling me?"

"It wasn't you he was going after, O'Hara. It wasn't you being—"

"That's not true! Like you just told Vick—every time he insults you he's basically insulting the whole department. So it might as well have been me, and I could have done something to stop things from escalating, and—and you can't be someone else's partner, Carlton. You're my partner."

Dammit, he was touched again by the earnest tone of her voice.

She went on fervently, "You know he doesn't mean the things he said. Your record speaks for itself, and—"

"Yes, exactly! My record does speak for itself, O'Hara, but it can't speak up at a crime scene. And I don't care whether he means what he says or not. He could have a shrine to me in his apartment for all I care. It doesn't matter. What matters is the public perception when I'm trying to do my job." He raked his hand through his hair. "Hell, maybe you should jump at the chance for a new partner. It hasn't done you any good to be saddled with Detective Dipstick, now has it?"

"It's done me a world of good," she shot back angrily. "You are the best—" She turned her head suddenly and he was shocked to consider she might have tears in those beautiful eyes. "If anything, I'm bringing you down."

"The hell? How?"

"It's occurred to me, you know. I'm dating the department psychic. His father hires the consultants. All it's going to take is one reporter to figure that out and we'll never hear the end of it. Favoritism. Nepotism. Some other ism which can make the department look bad, and in that case, drag you down, because you choose to be partners with me!"

"Well, that's crap," Lassiter retorted. "You could never be anything other than an asset to anyone you partnered with, O'Hara."

Briefly, she smiled, and he felt a tiny bit of hope for this conversation to end well. She seemed to compose herself, and asked quietly, "Will you come back inside?"

"Not today." He unlocked the car door. "I'm not good for anything today, not now, and as long as Spencer's lurking, you can consider me gone. Get Vick to assign that case to another team if you don't want to work it by yourself with Spencer. But I won't be in on it. You understand?"

Juliet's smile was gone in an instant, and she put both hands up to her flushed face for a moment. "This cannot be happening. I am going to kill him. I am. You watch." She stepped as close as she could and glared at him. "You are not getting a new partner, and you are not quitting. You are coming to work tomorrow and Shawn is not going to be here and we are going to do our jobs and that's that, Carlton Lassiter; do you hear me?"

He raised one eyebrow. "You're six inches away, so yeah."

"Whatever Vick decides, she decides for both of us. I already told her I was sticking to you." She backed off a little. "If I'd made you understand that a long time ago, maybe this day could have been avoided."

Lassiter wasn't so sure about that. With Spencer, nothing was ever simple. "Stop blaming yourself, O'Hara. This is just me stepping out of the box, that's all."

"Then we need a bigger box, Carlton." She glared at him again. "I expect you here first thing in the morning. Bring me a coffee." She turned on her heel and walked off rapidly.

. . . .

. . .

The further Juliet got from her partner, the more her anger turned to fear. She glanced over her shoulder to watch him driving away, and blinked back a sudden tear before continuing toward the station.

Shawn bounded down the steps. "Jules! What the hell was going on back there?"

"Yeah, Shawn, what the hell was going on back there?" Hmm, her anger had made a rapid recovery. "How can a self-proclaimed psychic miss every single cue there is—including verbal cues—to shut up and back off?"

"Cues?" he repeated, puzzled. "You mean like body language, signals, all that? I noticed a few here and there but nothing seemed very serious."

"Then what in God's name is your definition of serious? How many times today have you been threatened with bodily harm, Shawn?" She gave up on doing the math herself; she was too buzzed with fury.

He grinned. "Well, a few, but it's been a slow day overall. Death threats should pick up by tomorrow."

She stared at him in disbelief.

Shawn finally sighed. "Yeah, Jules, I get it. I get that you're pissed and Gus is pissed and just now Vick gave me a hell of a glare, and Lassie, well, he's always pissed, but—"

"Ter!" she ground out. "LassiTER. How hard is it, Shawn? Really? You can't manage a simple name like Lassiter? Well, of course not. You can't even manage JuliET. Maybe it's too much for me to call you Shawn. Maybe I should just stop at Sha. Would that be easier for you? Hmmm?"

Shawn frowned as if she were the one losing her mind, and after a moment, she had to admit he was right. "Juliet," he said deliberately. "I guess we need to talk. I don't know exactly what I've done today that I don't do every day to incur what seems to be an unusual amount of wrath, but I'm willing to take a chance and listen. Preferably over lunch, because there's a taco and empanada special down at Paco's."

She thought, yeah, you'll listen. You'll humor me, if you even pay attention while you eat, then you'll try to joke me out of it, and nothing will change, and I'm an idiot.

"I need a break," she said abruptly.

He tilted his head. "Uh… okay, sure. We can get a cabin in the woods for the weekend, or maybe drive up the coast. Gus will have to cry himself to sleep while I'm gone, but—"

"No, Shawn." She hesitated, but only for a second. "I need a break from you."

He was still. The whole parking lot seemed to be still. No one entered or left the building. Still. "What… what do you mean? Are you… are you breaking up with me?"

Her head was aching. "I… I don't know. I'm not saying that. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know I need a break. From us. From you. From… all this… all this crap."

"Crap," he repeated. "Our relationship is crap?"

"I didn't say that," she said hotly. "I would never say that. But… look. I thought…. when you forced my father back into my life? When you ignored everything I said about not wanting him around? I mean, I know your ultimate intention was good, Shawn. I get that, and I know I have a chance now to make repairs to my relationship with him, and that's all good, I guess, but the thing is, I thought it was the worst you could do. The worst way to totally stomp on everything I said was important to me—" She paused, because she could see he was wounded, and it twisted at her heart to see that in his eyes. Taking a breath, she went on more slowly. "But this. This is worse than that. My partnership with Carlton is the longest and most stable relationship of my adult life, and it means the world to me. Because of you, because of how you treat him in public, he's thinking about stepping down as head detective. Maybe even about quitting. And if I lose him, Shawn…" She had to stop a moment, to brush another damnable tear from her cheek, to ignore the shocked look on his face. "If I lose my partner because you couldn't just give him basic common courtesy and respect… I'm not sure I can come back from that. I don't think I could ever look at you the same way again."

Shawn was stunned. "Jules, I don't—what the hell is going on? What happened? What did I do to make him even think about stepping down?"

For the briefest of moments, Juliet felt the urge to laugh. "You were you, Shawn. You were you." She moved around him, and went up two steps. "Please. Stay away from the station for a few days. Don't call me, and don't… just stay away for a bit. Please." She turned her back and headed in, and her first stop was the ladies' room, where she cried for ten minutes straight.

. . . .

. . .

Clint Eastwood growled to the punk who was about to make his day, and Lassiter lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, drink in hand, not hearing him.

Juliet was right: it was crazy.

He had been thinking about this for a long time, but until the words escaped his mouth this morning he'd had no idea he would ever say them out loud.

Step down? From the position he'd earned so young and cherished all these years?

For all the good that did him. It didn't matter how many cases he'd solved; now everyone only remembered the ones Spencer solved.

He drank, and marveled at the other words which had flown out of him today: that he'd resign.

Crazy, just like the far-too-lovely Ms. O'Hara had declared.

And yet…

And yet he had no regrets. Being Head Detective and more or less aiming at the Chief's position had become less something he wanted and more something he felt was expected of him in the past half decade. The cases he enjoyed the most—got the most satisfaction from solving—were the ones he and Juliet worked alone. The Spencer cases were big and splashy and attracted public attention, but he always ended up stressed beyond belief and he hated that he found himself seeking out the media, seeking out a chance to say "I did this" just to have some satisfaction that it wasn't Spencer who solved it… this time.

Just being a detective was more appealing these days.

For Juliet's sake, he hoped she would take whatever partner Vick gave her. It would be better for her career than to stick with the guy who stepped down, because no matter what was said, there would be speculation as to why he was doing it, such as whether he was being demoted against his will, and Juliet along with him. He didn't want to do that to her.

He would miss her like crazy; he'd never have another partner like her. He wasn't even sure who in the station would agree to partner with him now. But Juliet would be okay. Career-wise, she'd be better off. And personally… well… he imagined it wouldn't be too hard for her sunny self to break ties with him.

Of course, Vick might just accept his resignation. And why shouldn't she? What was there to salvage?

He knew he'd had too much to drink then… so he had another, and fell asleep on the sofa to the sound of Eastwood's gunfire.

. . . .

. . .

Juliet felt cold, waiting for Carlton to come to work. It was 70 degrees out and sunny and she was cold, because she was terrified.

No sleep last night, thinking about Shawn, thinking about Carlton, thinking about her career and her partnership and what kinds of things mattered the most in the dead of night when you're cold and you can't sleep and your world might be changing.

He was always at the station before her but this morning she was waiting for him, sitting at the chair next to his desk, so that when he came down the main hall, he saw her before he could veer off to her desk to drop off the insulated cup he held.

Seeing her now, he slowed, and she studied his blue gaze, trying to find something in it to give her hope.

"Coffee," he said, handing her the tall cup. "As demanded."

"Thank you." She sipped while he took off his jacket and sat down to turn on his computer. He looked tired… possibly a touch hung over. "You okay?"

His turn to study her. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm ready to work," she said simply.

"That's why I'm here." He hesitated, and then turned brisk. "What's the status on the park case?"

"I told Henry I wanted Shawn off of it, so it's all ours again."

His brows went up. "He agreed?"

"I was cleaning my gun at the time." This earned an unmistakable smirk. She felt better. "Woody's autopsy results are in that folder."

Carlton flipped through, getting the highlights. "No GSR on either victim. Looks like the third shooter theory holds water."

"Detectives," Chief Vick interrupted as she came near. "My office, please."

Juliet and Carlton looked at each other, and her terror rose up again. She honestly had no idea what Karen Vick was going to do. She had stayed clear of her yesterday while recovering from her little breakdown, and when she was ready to go make her case for non-separation, Vick was tied up in meetings.

Vick gestured them in and closed the door herself, crossing slowly to her desk and sitting down. She considered them both before speaking. "I'll be brief. I haven't made a decision about any of this yet. It was a lot to take in, and it's not at all a straightforward matter."

Carlton nodded, and Juliet read his body language as accepting.

"However, make no mistake—I am taking it seriously, and Carlton, I'd like to offer my apology for letting the situation get to this point. What you said yesterday was true: Shawn's behavior has had a negative effect upon the entire department, not just you, on many occasions, and we have all been far too tolerant of his specific… behaviors… toward you." She looked uncomfortable, and Juliet thought this spoke well of her.

"Thank you, Chief," he said quietly.

Vick glanced at Juliet. "I made note of your declaration as well, Detective."

She didn't seem angry about it, so Juliet only nodded, ignoring Carlton's puzzled look her way.

"As it happens," Vick went on more matter-of-factly, "I've bought myself some time." She held up two folders. "By the time you get back, I'll have a decision."

"Back from where?" Juliet asked.

"You're going undercover this weekend. Tomorrow morning, in fact."

Carlton cleared his throat. "Uh, Chief, as much as it pains me to admit, undercover work isn't one of my strengths."

"No, it's not," she agreed with a faint smile, "but I think you two can both handle this one. You're going to a high school reunion as a married couple. Here's the specs. Come back in half an hour and we'll go over the rest."

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