"I think we have a lot to talk about." (type: letter – xoxo)

The station was quiet after the task force had left to go after Mason, and Shawn found himself alone in a practically empty squad room. The only other people nearby were Sergent Corbett, who was manning the phones, and Buzz, who was sitting at his desk, busy with files of cold cases.

Shawn walked over to join the other man, dropping into a chair beside Buzz's desk. The younger man looked up briefly as he sat down, giving him a small smile.

"Need some help?" Shawn offered, leaning over to see what Buzz was working on. "Maybe I can get some psychic vibrations about your cases."

"They're just old cases," Buzz told him. "Robberies, theft, home invasions, that sort of thing."

"Well, it's either help you with this," Shawn replied, "or go stir crazy waiting for the task force to come back with Mason."

"Fair enough," Buzz said, sliding the top file over so that Shawn could see it. "I'll clear it with the Chief, later, so that you're not doing this pro bono."

"Thanks," Shawn said.

They worked on the cases, silently, with Shawn offering comments to Buzz only sporadically. When the younger man questioned the lack of his usual enthusiasm over the cases, Shawn muttered something about how the spirits were silent after being classified as cold cases for so long.

But, the truth was, he was worried. Mason was dangerous, he was unpredictable, and he was deadly. And Shawn, with his overactive imagination, couldn't help but imagine the all of the worst case scenarios that could possibly happen.

Not to mention his feelings for one Carlton Lassiter, which were impossibly complicated and inexplicably tied up with every other thought that crossed his mind, lately. Ever since that third kiss, Carlton had been pretty much all he'd been able to think about. He could see the man in his mind every time he closed his eyes, Carlton haunting his dreams every time he tried to sleep. And, after that frankly amazing kiss right before Carlton left, Shawn was pretty sure that the other man would start to haunt his waking moments, as well.

He grabbed another case file off Buzz's desk, trying to distract himself before his mind could start wandering down paths that were better left unexplored. But, the words just kept swimming in front of his eyes, and he couldn't concentrate on a single thing for more than a few seconds.

"So," Buzz asked, suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "What's going on between you and Detective Lassiter?"

"What?" Shawn asked, startled. "No – nothing's going on. Why do you think something's going on between me and Lassiter?"

"Well, I just figured," Buzz said, carefully, without looking at him, "what with that kiss and all."

"You saw that?" Shawn asked, wondering how he could possibly spin this.

He wasn't particularly bothered by what people thought of him, but he was fairly certain that Carlton wouldn't take too kindly to people talking about him behind his back.

"I saw," Buzz confirmed, after a moment. "But, no one else did." As Shawn breathed a sigh of relief, Buzz added, "And you don't need to worry. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Thanks," Shawn replied, and Buzz nodded.

"Besides," he muttered a few seconds later, "I think you two would be really good for each other."

He blushed bright crimson as Shawn looked at him.

"Good for each other?" Shawn echoed, feeling a smile creep over his face at the way Buzz went even more red and buried his face in his hands.

"Please don't tell Detective Lassiter I said that," he mumbled through his hands. "He'll shoot me."

Shawn just chuckled as he shook his head, grabbing the last file off of Buzz's desk and opening it to the first page. Fifteen minutes later, he flipped the folder shut and dropped it on the stack with the others.

"It was the mail carrier," he said, leaning back in his chair. "All of the break-ins correlate with common pick-up and drop-off times," he said, before Buzz could say anything.

"Nice piece of detective work," Buzz commented.

The phone rang before he could say anything else, and since Corbett had stepped out for a smoke, break, Buzz grabbed his own phone to answer it. Absently listening to him talk on the phone, Shawn wandered back to Carlton's desk and sat down. Picking up a pen, he spun it idly on the desk. There was a blank piece of paper sitting on top of some files, and acting on an impulse, Shawn pulled the paper until it sat in front of him. Then, before he could think about it, he started to write.

Dear Lassie,

How does dinner, tonight, sound? Eight o'clock, meet me at my place, the restaurant's a surprise. I think we have a lot to talk about.

XOXO,

Shawn

Okay, so it wasn't Shakespeare. But, it was more than he'd ever thought he'd write to Carlton, before. Now, he just had to hope that the other man didn't just throw the note away as soon as he saw it, ignoring everything that had happened to them, before.

"You're not going to believe this," Buzz said, suddenly, hanging up the phone. "They missed Mason."

"He got away?" Shawn asked, worriedly.

"He was never there," Buzz answered. "They think he may have gotten a tip to go into hiding."

"Great," Shawn muttered. "So, is the task force headed back here?"

"On their way," Buzz told him. "Oh, and Detective Lassiter said that you're to stay put. Under no circumstances are you to leave the station."

"Well, than I guess Detective Lassiter is going to be in for a disappointment," a new voice spoke up, and Shawn's head snapped up at the familiar tone.

Kyle Mason stood in the middle of the squad room, his gun trained squarely on Shawn's forehead.

"Go sit down, Officer," he said, absently, his eyes never leaving Shawn's face. "I don't have any business with you, and I don't really have to time to kill you, right now."

"Do what he says, Buzz," Shawn said, quietly, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. "We're both just going to do exactly what Mr. Mason wants, right?"

"That's right," Mason said, before Buzz could say anything. "You're both going to do everything that I say. And for you, Mr. Spencer, that means that you'll be coming with me."

"Now, see, I don't think that's such a good idea," Shawn hedged, sneaking a look past Mason in the hopes of seeing Carlton and the rest of the task force bursting through the door, guns blazing. "I really think that we should stay right here."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Mason snarled, and Shawn wisely kept his answer to himself. "Move it, Spencer," the man continued, and Shawn nodded.

"Okay," he replied, agreeably. "I'll be right there."

He grabbed his cane from where it was leaning against Carlton's desk and started forward, freezing when Mason waved the gun at him.

"Leave the cane," he snapped. "You're not taking a weapon along."

"Okay," Shawn repeated, slowly bending down and placing the cane on the floor. "Absolutely. Whatever you want."

He moved toward Mason, wincing when he passed the other man and felt the cold steel of the gun digging into the small of his back. He continued toward the door at Mason's prodding, and as they passed Buzz, frozen in his chair, he tried to tell the younger man, wordlessly, not to do anything.

Then, he heard a thud, and he whirled around to see Buzz crumpling to the floor, an ugly bruise blossoming on his temple. Mason had the gun still in his hand, and it was obvious that he'd used it to strike Buzz.

"You didn't have to do that," he snapped, angrily, freezing when Mason menaced him with the gun, again.

"Get moving," Mason snapped at him. "I want to be out of here long before the cops get back."

Shawn went out into the parking lot, to where Mason had a nondescript car parked in front of the station. He saw Corbett lying in a heap on the sidewalk, and he prayed that she was just unconscious, rather than dead. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Mason gave a short laugh.

"Oh, don't worry," Mason said. "The only person I plan on killing, today, is you."

"How comforting," Shawn muttered.

They reached the car, and Shawn was puzzled when Mason urged him around to the driver's side.

"In case you haven't noticed," he pointed out, "I'm not really in any position to drive, right now."

"Just get in," Mason barked, and Shawn pulled the door open and sat down. "Take that off," he continued, gesturing to the boot that covered his foot and ankle.

Shawn carefully unlatched the boot and slid it off. Mason grabbed it from him as soon as it was clear of his foot and threw it away, where it landed in the middle of the parking lot. Still keeping the gun trained on him, Mason got in the other side of the car and handed him the keys.

"Now, drive," he ordered, harshly.

'And to think,' Shawn thought, as he started the car, 'that my biggest worry, earlier, was that Carlton would flake out on dinner.'