Possible angst coming up soon.

My phone rang. "Whaaaa?"

Obnoxiously perfect memory aside (I admit it's useful as a teacher… until you stumble upon a student's porn magazine), I had a moment of fuzziness where I couldn't understand where I was or why my phone was ringing.

I was on a dull grey couch with black throw pillows in a well-designed living room set with a neutral palette. My phone was playing a ringtone I knew all too well. "Atticus?"

"Alisa, what have you done now?"

"Nice to talk to you too. Don't you have a girlfriend to bore at these ungodly hours of the morning? God, Atticus, it's the weekend. Not everyone is a morning person. And I was up until midnight watching Cops. Best date I've ever had. It certainly beat "

"Don't prattle on, Allie. You always do this when you're stressed. I presume this has something to do with how you're being stalked by some lunatic."

"Ooh, lunatic, what a good word! And prattle—I taught you that one, didn't I?" I replied flippantly, trying to turn this away from my stalker and the growing dread in the pit of my stomach from the fact that he knew about the stalker.

"Now you're stalling, which suggests you want to avoid this subject."

"Look, if you'd answered the phone with whatever the hell you're getting at, we wouldn't go through all this trouble! Journalists established the inverted pyramid method for this very reason."

"And this is why we're divorced."

"Oh, you mean because you can't go ten seconds without rubbing your psychology degree in my face?"

"You can't go five without quoting Martial or Doyle at me!"

"JUST SHUT UP AND GET TO THE POINT YOU COMPLETELY BRAINLESS JERK!"

"Your new little friend just called me and threatened life and limb."

"Not nice being on the receiving end, hmm?"

"Oh, please, you make threats like that all the time."

"I've never been anything but polite to your girlfriends. I've had one actual boyfriend and you threatened to poison him."

"Are you going to harp on about that this entire call?"

"I will unless you get to the actual point. I had over a hundred before I even started looking for help, and I didn't go to the police until I exhausted all other resources. Coward."

"I'm sorry, I take threats seriously. Particularly when the sender shows signs of serious psychological—"

I recognised that tone. It was his I'm about to do a psychological profile, so sit down and shut up.

"Wait, wait, can you do a psychological profile on this guy?"

"I have to be able to see the letters."

I sighed. "You're paying for transport and room and board. There's no way in hell I'm paying for this, even if I weren't completely broke."

"You're broke?" Both Atticus and Carlton said simultaneously.

I glanced up at the detective—he was standing in the doorway, already fully dress—and gestured at him to hush. He folded his arms and gave me a no-nonsense look I had a feeling was usually given to suspects. Great, now I was under scrutiny on both ends.

"Yes, Attic-brain, the only college that would hire me after all that has the highest real estate prices around."

"After all what?"

"Carlton!" I snapped. "Atticus, look, I'm a bit busy."

"Is there a man there with you?" Atticus asked.

"Yes, there is. Problem?"

"Has it occurred to you he's the stalker?"

"He's the Head Detective of the SBPD, you idiot." I replied.

I could practically hear him folding his arms and glaring. "How am I to know that?"

"Well, a little faith in my taste in men would be nice, however undeserved given that I married you."

"Much appreciated, Alisa. I'm coming no matter how many insults you throw my way."

"Dammit, there goes my plan."

"Goodbye, Alisa."

"Atticus, I'm—" A click told me it was useless, but I continued anyway. "Sorry you got involved in this… Asshole."

"Your stalker contacted your ex-husband?" Carlton asked.

"It would appear so."

"He's coming here."

"Yes. He's a psychologist, and a brilliant one. He'll analyse you to death if you let him, so ignore it. Try very hard not to punch him, as he'll make you feel like an idiot for it."

"I just got a call from O'Hara. They've got a lead—it would appear your stalker stays in the dormitories on campus."

I groaned. "That narrows it down to a thousand-odd kids I talk to every day."

"And, um, I can't investigate this case any further." He shifted awkwardly.

"What?" I jumped up. "Did I screw something up?"

"No, it's just Karen thinks we're dating now and she's worried I'll lose objectivity and get the case thrown out on a technicality. Look, either I can't see you again, or I get off this case."

I scanned his face. Even from such a short time with him, I could tell he loved his work and this case would interest him whether he found me attractive or not. And yet he was giving this mystery up to stay with me in a more casual capacity.

"I… Carlton… Um, thank you for choosing me. Who's going to take this case?"

Carlton sighed. "Shawn Spencer."

"That pseudo-psychic?" I asked dubiously.

He strode over to me and I was once again struck by how tall he was. "Look, I can't stand the kid. He's an idiot. But he does get results, no matter how outlandish the process. Just trust me, okay?" His voice was harsh, but something in his eyes said he was afraid.

"I trust you." I whispered.

A split second before he did, I knew he was going to kiss me, but I didn't move.

I'd once married a guy who didn't go to the bathroom without a backup plan, and had dated a paranoid schizophrenic for a year, and never had I kissed anyone so damn cautious.

Apparently, however, the fact that I thoughtlessly leaned into him was enough to convince him to stop worrying, because his arms tightened around me and he pushed me back against the kitchen island. He was almost desperate in his movements, as if he was expecting me to shove him away in a moment and wanted to make up for it by kissing me as much as possible right now.

"Carlton," I murmured when he finally broke away.

Immediately, like I'd flipped a switch, he was businesslike and defensive. "What?"

"Dinner tonight?" I was breathless still, and grinning like a fool. "Don't worry about cooking. We'll order pizza and I'll unearth one of my few leftover DVD's."

"Just how broke are you?"

"Um, think Ramen noodles and spaghettios."

He grimaced. "I'll buy the pizza."

"My hero." I laughed, and kissed him gently before leaving to find a psychic.

"Allie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't, um… Don't get shot."

Ah, Carlton, you're such a romantic. *rolls eyes*