A dream is just a dream, except when it's a memory.
Two updates in a day! Woo hoo! Virtual fist bump! I put a little bit of Gus in this one, because I miss him. You may even get a third update as I need something to take my mind off some bad news.
Warning, there be violence and language ahead.
Lassiter's first instinct was to charge into the spare room and demand answers.
Oh yeah, because demanding answers worked so well before!
He took a deep breath. Then he took another. Counted to ten. But the rage inside him was building. It was like the confirmation that a cop did this had driven him to the edge. He had always wanted to be the wear the white hat and shoot the bad guys. To protect people. That's what being a police officer was all about. Cops were supposed to be the good guys! The idea of some of his people, physically assaulting one of their own.... it literally sickened him. He looked at his already bruised knuckles and considered adding a new dent to the wall. As annoying as Shawn was, he didn't deserve being beaten up by people he's supposed to trust.
Shawn was an ass. But he was a case solving ass, and he was Lassiter's ass. That sounds wrong on so many levels. Lassiter thought, shaking his head. All he'd meant was that Shawn counted, as much as he hated to admit it, as one of his people and therefore his responsibility. And some of his guys had knocked the stuffing out of him, right under Carlton's nose. Some detective you turned out to be. He snorted.
Before he could do anything, he needed a plan of attack. A way to get Spencer to talk. He placed the pineapple on the counter and set the coffee perking. Without even thinking about it, he got out two mugs and prepared two coffees. One just how he liked it, 3 creams, four sugars, and the other, how Spencer took it (One cream, three sugars). It wasn't until he was pouring the water in that he wondered when he had learned Shawn's coffee drinking habits. He thought back over the last few months. Hell, the last few years, and he realised that he and Shawn had actually been friends for a while, even with all their bickering and differences. Then, with that in mind, he thought back over his behaviour. And he didn't like what he saw.
Sure, Spencer wasn't psychic. He'd even admitted it. But the kid was a damn good detective, who closed cases. Why did I keep shutting him out? He sat down at the table, coffees forgotten. His first thought was because the man was a fraud. But no. He'd known Shawn was a fake from the beginning. It wasn't that. Then he thought of the immaturity, unbefitting an officer of the law. But Shawn wasn't an officer of the law. He was a P.I. Not to mention that it was obvious to anyone and their grandma that Spencer and Guster just used their tomfoolery to avoid freaking out. To settle their nerves. A look at the Yang case would prove that to anyone who doubted.
He finally came to a conclusion as he stared into his mug, and he didn't like it. He was jealous. Pure and simple. Before Vick, Fenich was Chief. And Lassiter was his favourite. Already Head Detective and on the way to being Chief himself. And then Fenich retires, Vick comes in, and Spencer is the new favoured child. A snot nosed brat with a perfect solve rate. And it's impossible not to like him. I should know, I've tried. Shawn got all the friends, all the cases, all the glory.
Carlton was tempted to get out the scotch and drink a wee dram. It's never pretty when you see inside yourself. What he was now realising was that the two of them were never really in competition. Spencer was a civilian. He would never be a rival for the Chief's spot. If he'd had half a brain he would have collaborated with Shawn. With Spencer as a resource, he would probably solve every case awarded to him. And Shawn, had always gone out of his way to help and include Carlton, even though the Detective had thrown it back in his face, more than once.
No wonder he thinks I hate him. I was an ass. A bigger ass than he ever was. He helps me with cases, he tries to get me to have a social life. He believed me with the whole Drimmer Disaster. He was the first person I go to when I need help.
His coffee was cold. He busied himself brewing a new pot. He owed Spencer an apology, first off. Then he could give him the pineapple and ask him about what O'Hara had said.
Burton Guster stared at his phone. He had had it turned off, as he always did when he was away on a business trip, because otherwise Shawn would call at 3 in the morning just to ask what the crocodile guy Hannibal dressed up as in the A-team was called. (Author's note: this actually happened to me, my sister called at 2 in the morning to ask that. It was the Aqua-Maniac by the way). And Gus just couldn't deal with that on top of everything he was supposed to do for work. But this time, he was wondering if he should turn the phone on. He was worried about Shawn. When that kid had died, Shawn had acted like his usual self, and Gus had been annoyed at him. He'd yelled at him and asked him if he'd had any feelings at all. It wasn't until later that he'd thought back and realised Shawn's tells were all showing. If Gus hadn't been so upset himself, he would have realised Shawn was hiding something. He knew Shawn better than anyone. He knew about the way Shawn really was. And why he felt he had to hide. Stupid. He was hurt and hiding and you yelled at him! Some best friend.
His hand reached out towards the phone, seemingly of it's own accord. No. He'd be home in a few days. It would be better if they sorted this out in person. Anyway, that cute woman from Golden Shores Pharmaceutical had asked him to meet her for a drink. If he didn't leave now, he'd be late.
Shawn was a grown man. He'd coped all those years on his road trip, with barely any contact, driving Gus to distraction. He could cope without his sidekick for a few measly days. It's not like they were attatched at the hip.
*Not happening now*
He walked into the station, smiling. Gus was meeting him here and they were going to talk to Lassie and Jules about that string of robberies. One little vision and the Chief would hire them on the spot.
"Hey, Shawn!" A voice calls. He thanks his photographic memory as he places the man who's yelling him.
"Hey, John. How's Sarah?"
"Fine, fine. Look can I talk to you?"
"Sure, what's up?" They head into an office and suddenly there are more people, 2 more guys, and they've grabbed hold of his arms, pulling them behind him at an unnatural anlge.
"Guys, what's going on here? I told Lassie I don't do hazing. So if that's what this is..."
A fist in his stomach.
"Shut up!" one of them says. He isn't sure which as he is busy concentrating on not puking. "Listen to him! He flaunts the fact he's sucking the Detective's cock. Filthy fucker."
"I'm not... You think me and Lassie? That's just funny!"
Another fist. He recognised this guy now. Guy number 2, the homophobe. He usually worked with the gang unit. Under Drimmer. No wonder he thought they were gay.
"You do realise that Drimmer was a dirty cop? He was a bad guy? Oh yeah, he was also lying!"
Third fist to the stomach's the charm.
"He's not just a faggot, he's a fake and a mockery." Voice number three. "He is a stain on this police force and he makes us look like amateurs!" A vicious twist to his left arm. "He doesn't deserve to be here. He hasn't earned the right."
"Look, I solve crimes! I save lives, and I am not a fake!"
A knee to the groin from Mr Homophobia.
"He offends God." That was John. Shit, Shawn had forgotten that John had gone out and found religion. And he hadn't found it in a regular nourishing, soul saving kind of way. He'd found it in a scary, Sunlight Gardener, Jason off True Blood, kind of way. The kind where you take it upon yourself to punish sinners.
"No, God no, I'm not, I wouldn't...."
"Don't take the Lord's name in vain!" A rabbit punch to his side. "Don't suffer a witch to live."
"Either he's a fake or a demon. Which is it 'psychic'?" Homophobe guy asked. "Are you here because you sold your soul, or because you let 'Lassie' have your ass-ie?"
A forth solid punch in the gut. Shawn couldn't breath, let alone talk, and he finally gave into the urge to vomit, all over Homophobes shoes.
"Filthy fucker!" Blows rained down on him. They were careful to avoid his face, but everywhere else was fair game.
"Come on. Let's leave the piece of crap." Mr 'you're a fraud' said, giving Shawn a final kick to the ribs.
"Consider this a warning." Homophobe said. "Get out of here. We don't want people like you around here."
He spat onto his victim. The door closed loudly behind them, and Shawn reached a shaking hand up to wipe the spittle from his face.
*End*
Lassiter went into the bedroom, coffee offering in one hand and Pineapple under his arm. He was surprised to find Shawn asleep. But he'd been restless last night. He looked so peaceful sleeping. Lassiter smiled, and decided that the conversation they would have would go better if Shawn was well rested. He shut the door, and leaned a chair against it. On the chair he put a pile of saucepans. Shawn wasn't going to get away, and if he chained his hands to the bed post again, he might wake him. Luckily, the window was painted shut.
He didn't hear Shawn whimper as he relived his first attack.
Sunlight Gardener is a character in a Stephen King Novel Talisman. It's a good book, worth the read. (I'm not sure how many people have read it, so I thought I'd explain the reference.) Also, no offense meant to religious people. I did make a point of saying that he hadn't found religion in the normal healthy way. I think religion's great for some people and I think most religious people are nice and normal, and friendly, in fact, I've had some really nice conversations with our local Jehovah's witnesses. John isn't some 'religious nutcase'. He's in a psychotic break and Christianity just happens to be the focus of his delusions.
