This chapter is very uneventful, and I swear cooler things will happen in later chapters. If you've read anything from me, someone usually gets shot. And I don't think I'm about to change my ways anytime soon.

Anyway, I own nothing and I really hope to hear from you guys. Unless you don't want a forth chapter and then I can stop.

Bye…

Present Day…

Lassiter stood outside the interrogation room, head resting against the metal door, waiting for Spencer to show up. It was the only request Shawn had, that Lassiter just wait until he showed up before questioning Gus. Steinberg was all for going against the request, but as head detective Lassiter had seniority and shot him down. When Steinberg tried to appeal to Vick, she too told him to wait for Shawn.

"What can he do?" Steinberg had snarled. "He's not a lawyer, we don't even know if he's really psychic."

O'Hara had glared at him at that point and said, "Nobody likes a skeptic, Detective." Before Steinberg could open his mouth Vick interrupted with a quick, "That's enough Walt, O'Hara."

Walter Steinberg wasn't exactly Lassiter favorite person, in fact he hated him. It's not that he wasn't a good detective, he was one of the best, it's just he thought he was supreme commander of all things homicide because he happened to be the lead detective of homicide. No, there were several other higher ups he had to go through, Lassiter included. He was just an arrogant jackass too ready to jump to conclusions and not listen to all the facts. It was the downfall of most young detective.

"Lassie," a familiar voice said making Lassiter turn. Spencer came hurrying toward him; a pale, brown haired guy, wearing a suit, following him. Lassiter recognized the guy from a while back, Hornstock or Hornstuff… something like that. He was friends with Spencer and Guster, also a lawyer. Guster's lawyer it seemed.

"Lassie is he in there?" it was the most serious Spencer had been, in a long time. Guster was one of the most important people in Shawn's life-his mother, father, and O'Hara also on the list-and nothing bad could happen to him without Spencer trying to interfere… to any of them, actually.

"Yes, Spencer, but I'm going to need you to sit out here," Lassiter said keeping himself between Shawn and the door.

"There is no damn way you are keeping me from that room," Shawn said trying to push past Carlton.

"Actually I can arrest you for interfering in a police investigation," Steinberg said stepping off the steps and turning the corner. "This must be the reason we were stuck waiting."

"Yes, I'm Adam Hornstock. Attorney…" Hornstock held out his hand, dropping it when Steinberg walked past him. "Okay," he said under his breath.

"Shall we, Detective?" Steinberg pushed past Lassiter and opened the door. He disappeared inside, not even waiting for Carlton to follow. Lassiter turned to Shawn and said, "Stay out here for now," before he entered the room, followed by Hornstock. He kept his eyes averted from Guster, closing the door to distract himself for a few seconds. Finally, he couldn't avoid Gus for long, he had to look.

The younger guy had is head down, face buried in his arms, ignoring the coffee O'Hara had given him earlier. He hadn't said much, actually he hadn't said anything. It was the quietest Lassiter had seen the sales' rep without Spencer saying something to piss him off.

"So, Mr. Guster, ready to confess," Steinberg said taking a seat directly across from Gus. Hornstock took a seat next to Gus, nudging him to look up.

He did, his usually dark skin almost a sickly, pale color. He had blood shot eyes, a slight wince every time he moved his head or looked into direct sunlight, and wrinkled and bloody clothes. It was an image of Burton Guster that Lassiter had never seen. Making Lassiter glad Spencer hadn't been allowed in the room. This was sad for Lassiter to see, he didn't want to know how Shawn would take it.

"My client is innocent until proven guilty and antagonizing…"

"Mr. Hornsticks…"

"It's Hornstock," Hornstock interrupted under his breath.

"Whatever. Look, Mr. Guster was found at the scene of the crime, covered in the victim's blood. It doesn't take a genius to figure…"

"Where's the weapon," Hornstock said quickly. "Where's the weapon with Gus's fingerprints on it? Huh? Can't exactly convict him without cold, hard evidence. What you have is mostly circumstantial."

"Maybe Mr. Guster threw it away. Who knows?"

"When Regina Taylor's neighbor called the police, she said there were two bodies. One in the bed: the victim, and one on the floor, by the dresser: Guster. He was out for probably the entire fifteen minutes before we got there. So, unless he…"

"Lassiter, do you honestly think you can be involved in this case without being a little bias," Steinberg said over Carlton's voice. "Guster isn't exactly as stranger to you."

"Don't question my loyalties, Walt."

"I'm just saying, Carlton. Guster and his nuisance of a friend have helped you on several cases. You can't tell me you'd like to see him proven innocent."

Steinberg, begrudgingly, was right. Lassiter wanted to see Gus get off the hook. Not because they were friends, he hadn't exactly had a full on conversation with Gus in a while, but to avoid having to see Spencer moping around the police station, trying to find any and all ways to get his friend out of jail. Because there was no way Shawn was going to let Guster go to jail, not willingly.

"Look, Detective Steinberg, you can't keep Gus here without proof…"

"Actually, Hornstock, I can hold him for forty-eight hours under suspicion. Two days should be plenty of time. So go ahead, Guster, keep your silence. I'll find out where you hid that weapon." And with those words Steinberg stood and stormed out of the room.

It was strange, seeing someone not even try to defend themselves. Lassiter knew, in his gut, that Guster didn't do what he was being accused of. Burton Guster didn't kill people. He may threaten Shawn Spencer with death, but he didn't kill people. But Guster wasn't saying a word, not a thing. It could be shock, Lassiter hadn't ruled that out, but it was still strange.

"Detective Lassiter, can I talk to my client alone?" Hornstock asked curiously.

"Sure," Carlton replied quickly, backing out of the room. Truth was he couldn't be in that room anymore. Not with the unusually quiet Guster, who wasn't saying a word to defend himself, sitting in his bloody clothes. Which reminded Lassiter that he should really…

He froze, Spencer holding out a bag to him. He hadn't realized he was halfway toward the steps, the interrogation room's door firmly shut behind him. He was never this absent minded, never. It didn't make a proper detective, letting the mind wander. In fact, it was very unprofessional and a sure fire way to get shot.

"I thought Gus would need these," Shawn said quickly, waiting for Lassiter to grab the bag.

"I'll be sure to give it to him," Carlton replied taking the bag. "Have you 'divined' anything helpful?"

Shawn shook his head sadly, sinking onto the steps leading up to the main portion of the police station. He let his elbows rest on his knees, his eyes locking on the evidence room's door, knuckles supporting his chin. "You know, I never thought Gus would be the one behind bars. Surely, I would be the one he'd have to visit."

"There's still time," Lassiter replied quietly. Knowing Spencer like he did, there was no doubt he'd end up doing something jail worthy. He got too caught up in solving a case, did things semi-illegal to get results. Something was bound to bite him in the ass.

"I always used to make him play the criminal when we were little and played cops and robbers. And Gus would tell me he was never going to jail so he didn't deserve to be the criminal. And I guess he didn't, but I was seven and really didn't think that way. Plus, I was the one being trained to be a cop, so I needed a criminal to practice on. You know?" Classic Spencer, babbling when he was trying to conceal his emotions. Yes, normally it was about the case he was working on, not his past so much, but babbling did come in several different styles.

"Shawn," Lassiter started sitting down next to the 'psychic', "I promise I will do everything in my power to get Guster out of this."

"Lassie, I'm not six," Shawn started getting to his feet, "I don't need you to make a promise that I'd already made to myself." And with those words, Shawn climbed the steps and headed toward O'Hara's desk. Lassiter stood, about ready to drop the clean clothes off with Gus, but froze when he spotted a familiar guy standing directly in the middle of the police station talking to a rookie cop.

Lassiter had been trying to avoid his brother, not really wanting to deal with Danny right now. It was a stroke of luck that Vick called and asked him to come back to work early. It helped him out a lot. But Danny followed him to the SBPD. Two and a half hours later but followed him nonetheless.

"Crap," he whispered slipping into the shadows before his brother could see him. Running smack dab into McNab.

"Sorry, Detective Lassiter," McNab said closing the filing cabinet with his hip. "Just collecting some case files for my case. Did you hear about Gus?"

"I was at the crime scene," Lassiter replied a little irritated. Even upset, as he clearly was, Buzz McNab was still polite as could be. His parents must have drilled good etiquette into his head from the age of zero. It was annoying sometimes.

"There's no way he could have done this," Buzz said carrying his files toward the stairs. "I know Gus, he wouldn't kill anyone."

"You worry about your cases, and I'll worry about Guster's innocence," Lassiter responded feigning his nonchalance toward whether or not Gus was innocent. He didn't need to let everyone know how much he wanted to see Gus free. Nobody needed to know.

"Okay, sir," McNab said before hurrying up the steps.

"I'll be back in a bit," Lassiter heard Hornstock say, the door opening. The brunette man scurried toward the stairs, his cell phone already out. Carlton waited until he was out of eyeshot, before slipping into the interrogation room.

"Guster," he said looking down at the younger man, whose head was down again. "Spencer brought you some clean clothes to change into." he dropped the bag on the table, sitting down in the unoccupied chair across from Gus.

"At least they didn't find you over the body, holding the murder weapon," Carlton murmured remembering when Drimmer killed Chavez and framed him for it. The evidence didn't look good, kept piling up against Lassiter, but he didn't do it. Everyone who knew him really well, all five people (including his mother), didn't think he did it. Guster did, sorta, but it was kind of hard not to when Lassiter was prone to drawing his weapon. And sometimes it was necessary. He wouldn't apologize for necessity.

"You know what sucks about this whole thing," Guster started, voice hoarse, raising his head from the table.

"You mean being framed for murder isn't the worse part?"

"I liked her, really, truly liked her. And I didn't accuse her of murder, a plus for me. And now she's dead, and whoever did it is still out there. Glad they had a scapegoat ready and waiting. I mean, they hit me in the back of the head. In the back of the head, whoever they were. After they destroyed her apartment. And I should have called the cops, I really should have, but I wanted to look brave in front of her and I didn't. Now she's dead, I'm accused of murder, and whoever did it is still out there. Tell me, Lassiter, how is that fair?"

And it was a good question, one Carlton couldn't answer. He couldn't answer it when he asked himself after being framed, and he still couldn't after Gus asked. Because truthfully, there was no real answer. There were variations, sure, but nothing solid. So all Carlton could say was, "I don't know, Guster. I honestly don't know…"

Psych

Lassiter may be a little OOC, I know, but he kind of knows what Gus is going through. He, too, was framed for murder. So, sorry for the going off the rails with Lassiter. I'll try to get him back to normal by the next chapter. Thanks again for reading…