Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Wow, you guys are amazing. I have never had so many reviews so quickly, even when I was writing SGA! Thank you ever so much.

The Interrogation Room

Lassiter stared into the dingy, green-and-white stucco room through the two-way mirror, carefully observing its lone occupant. He couldn't remember ever seeing Spencer so…still; it was unnatural. The psychic consultant sat slumped, unmoving, in the stiff plastic chair on the opposite side of the table from the glass. He must have known he would be observed, but couldn't muster the energy to care. His chin rested on his chest while his eyes, unseeing, were fixed on his hands clasped in his lap. The cold glare of the overhead fluorescent light accented the white sheaf of paper as it rested unmarked on the table, pen beside it. Spencer hadn't even begun to write out his account of the shooting. Instead, he just sat there, a poster-child for dejection.

That confused the head detective. Shawn wasn't under arrest; far from it. From every report he'd heard so far, including that of his own partner, Spencer was the hero of this play. Lassiter wouldn't be surprised if McNab was out organizing a congratulatory party at that very minute. Yet the hunched psychic looked as if he expected to be thrown in a cell and the key 'lost' forever.

It didn't make sense. Carlton rolled his eyes; if this was some elaborate game, he was going to consider the jail cell after all.

Only one way to find out what was going on. Shaking his head, Carlton yanked open the door and stalked over to the table. "So, have you finished your statement?" he demanded, crossing his arms, knowing full well that the paper was untouched. Spencer didn't even acknowledge his presence, much less the question; he just kept staring at his folded hands.

"Spencer?" A pause; no response. Lassiter's foot began to tap. "Spencer, look at me." Carlton was getting irritable; he didn't appreciate being ignored. "Spencer, I need your statement for the record." Still no answer. Finally grimacing in distaste at the personal contact, he reached over and grasped the consultant's shoulder to get his attention.

And was surprised when startled red-rimmed eyes shot up to meet his own. Carlton blinked at the consultant's deer-in-headlights stare. 'Okaayyyy…not a joke, then.' Brows furrowing, he questioned, "Spencer, you do know you are not under arrest, don't you?"

Shawn folded his hands on the table, then resumed staring at them. "Maybe I should be."

"What?" The head detective was taken aback.

Spencer fixed him with an uncomfortably intense glare. "I killed a man today, Lassie."

Lassiter's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "And from all accounts saved the lives of both Detective O'Hara and that little girl." Carlton didn't understand Spencer's problem. The kidnapper had been located in the warehouse, but the FBI and the SBPD had worked at crossed purposes. Somehow, in the ensuing confusion, the criminal managed to murder one of the FBI officers, then get the drop on O'Hara. Only Shawn's quick thinking kept her from being the next victim; the kidnapped eight-year-old was later located tied and gagged in the manager's office. She was otherwise unharmed.

Spencer obviously saw the situation differently. He took a deep, sighing breath and released it slowly, as if to calm his nerves. "I should have been able to talk him out of it. I always talk them out of it. My voice is my most effective weapon!"

'Oh, for the love of…' Lassiter rolled his eyes as he dropped heavily into the other chair. "The man had already shot and killed a Federal agent and had a gun to O'Hara's head as he used her for a shield." Oh, and didn't the head detective feel guilty about that - he himself had been across town chasing another useless lead concerning the girl's whereabouts when the tip came in. If his partner had gotten her brains blown out… But no. He wasn't going there, not even mentally. "Besides, I heard that you tried to get him to surrender first."

"Yeah, talking from behind a crate. I just…maybe if I'd come out into the open, he'd have trusted me more. Maybe I could have gotten him to release Juliet without having to shoot him."

Carlton snorted. "Yeah, and maybe you would have gotten killed yourself." Shaking his head, he continued, "And I don't even want to think about what your father would say to me if that happened."

"But…"

"No 'buts', Spencer; the man was a murderer, and had O'Hara at gunpoint." He drew back with a grimace. "Don't tell me you regret saving her life?"

"Of course not." The 'but' remained; Lassiter could still hear it. He decided to try a different approach.

"Agent Young was impressed, by the way," he commented casually, studying his own well-manicured fingernails. "Said that head-shot was one-in-a-million."

That got Shawn's attention. He glanced up at the Detective, clearly surprised that Lassiter would admit such a thing to him, before returning his gaze to his lap. "I got lucky."

"Well, I hope it was more than 'luck'," snarled Carlton, suddenly leaning forward and fixing Shawn with his most intense stare. "Two inches off, and you would have killed Detective O'Hara."

Spencer looked up in desperation. "It was the only shot I could take! He had Jules covering the rest of his body, and his finger was tightening on the trigger. I didn't have a choice!"

Lassiter smiled smugly as he sat back in gratification. "Exactly. You. Didn't. Have. A. Choice." He pointed to the blank paper on the table. "Just write it down. Then you can go." He stood to leave, his mission, at least for the time being, accomplished. Reaching the door, he paused to add, "Oh, and make sure you stop by O'Hara's desk before you leave; she wants to thank you herself…something about being 'extremely grateful'…"

The detective ignored the surprised expression in Shawn's eyes as he abruptly pulled open the door and left the room. A surreptitious glance back through the mirror showed the consultant slowly reaching for the pen, relief radiating from his face. The corner of Carlton's lip quirked up in satisfaction. Now he just needed to warn O'Hara.

TBC…

Author's Note: OK, OK, I hear you! Next chapter is the one where Lassiter finally sees Shawn shoot. Thanks for the input, once again! (Oh, and you KNOW I have to write a tag to "Tuesday the 17th", so the next chapter might take a little longer to polish - still, it'll be up in a day or so)