CHAPTER FIVE: Implosion

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[- M - ahead, fainthearted readers]

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"Foul" was not a strong enough word for Juliet's mood as Week Thirteen began.

She had to apologize to Collins for biting his head off... twice. On Monday. Before lunch.

Tuesday, she yelled at Buzz McNab for bringing her the wrong colored pen, and had to apologize profusely to get the stricken expression off his normally genial face.

At the station, she kept her back to Carlton as much as possible. She was even angry with him, and the less she saw of his glorious blue eyes and long graceful fingers and lean body and glorious blue eyes and that little glimpse of chest hair when his tie was loose, which made her want to rip it off and lick him all over, and by the way, his glorious blue eyes, the better. How dare he be able to drive her nuts when she couldn't even see him? How dare he be noble enough to resist dragging her back to bed but not so noble as to completely hide his need for her, when knowing he felt that way just made her love-want-crave him even more than she already did?

If she ever got a chance, she was going to blow that damned secret door down with a frickin' grenade. Maybe two.

And Shawn. Shawn was on her last damned nerve. He alternated between grinning aren't-I-adorable and grinning but-let's-see-what-I-can-get-away-with. He was so very, very very VERY Shawn.

When she wasn't furious with reality, she was near tears. She did care about Shawn. He could be so sweet and he was so observant and helped solve so many cases and he cared about her tremendously and she knew all that, and could see so much good in him, as well as fun—fun was good; fun was important—and then there was that damned inner voice yelling at her day and night telling her what an idiot she was. Which she was. God, she was such an idiot.

Wednesday, Psych was called in to take a preliminary look at a homicide where any one of eight witnesses could have been the doer. Shawn was in good spirits, oblivious to Juliet's rising blood pressure, and gave his capsule commentary on witnesses one through three without undue tomfoolery.

But witness number four's last name, tragically, was Lassiter.

No relation, no resemblance, not even the same gender.

Nonetheless, Shawn immediately skyrocketed into Lassiter-bashing overdrive, initially by way of telling the woman all the reasons she was lucky to not be Carlton.

Juliet asked him to stop.

Then she told him to stop.

Then she pulled him to one side and hissed at him to stop with her hand on her weapon for emphasis.

Collins even told him to stop. When Gus, sensing doom, told him to stop, Shawn was quiet for maybe twenty seconds, but that was as long as he could hold out. He tossed off a line about Carlton's failed marriage which disturbed even the witness.

Juliet turned on him, furious. "Shawn, I swear to God, if you say one more thing about Carlton I'm going to knock you flat."

He laughed as she moved away, and she heard Gus urge him to zip it. "But Jules, come on, he's not here, so he's not offended, and it's not like I wouldn't say it to his face anyway. You ought to be joining me. Haven't you felt a lot more free now that he's not here looming over you like a big-eared vulture? Gus, do vultures have ears? Well, if they did, Lassie would—"

Next thing Juliet knew, she was standing over Shawn with a bruised hand. He was holding his nose, which was bleeding, and everyone else was standing back in shock.

"I told you to shut the hell up," she snapped, and stalked off.

Halfway to her car she texted Collins that he was lead on this case but would need his own ride back to the station. Then she called Karen Vick's direct line.

"Chief," she began rapidly as soon as Vick answered. "I want you to hear from me personally that I just punched Shawn in the nose at the crime scene. I assume you'll have to suspend me, so I'm going home until I hear from you."

"What?" was all Vick managed. "You did what?"

"I'm sorry, it was wrong and unprofessional and against all protocol but I just had enough and he wouldn't shut up so I shut him up." The anger came back, as well as an urgent need to cry, so she swallowed hard and added, "I have to go before I lose it. I'm sorry, Chief." She disconnected, drove nearly blindly to the station, dropped off the Vic, collected her Beetle and went home.

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Vick strode out of her office, aiming straight for Lassiter, who knew whatever it was could not by any stretch of the imagination be good. Henry Spencer looked up, curious too. "Detective Lassiter. We have a situation."

Lassiter started to stand, but she motioned him to remain seated.

She glanced at Henry and sighed. "You should hear this too. O'Hara just assaulted Shawn at a crime scene. She's gone home, so I need you to go over there and figure this out. Now." Pausing only to shake her head wonderingly, she left the two of them staring at each other.

"The hell?" Lassiter asked, stunned.

Henry said, "Hang on," and picked up his phone. "I'll call Gus. He's incapable of lying to me."

A hundred disconnected thoughts ran through Lassiter's brain while he listened to Henry's end of the conversation, which began with, "Gus, don't waste my time. Just tell me what happened."

Lassiter waited, restless as all get-out, ignoring the little tiny whispery voice which was crowing "that's my girl!"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I can see that... how is he?" Pause. "Okay, well, listen to me, Gus. You keep him away from Juliet. If she was mad enough to hit him, he needs to keep the hell away from her until she's calmed down. Until he's calmed down. You hear me? I know, I know. But you do whatever it takes. Sit on him. Drive him to San Francisco. I don't really care. Just keep. Him. Away. From. Her." He listened for a moment, then hung up.

"What?" Lassiter asked urgently.

Henry seemed bemused. "Juliet told Shawn that if he didn't quit ragging on you, she'd pop him one. He didn't, so now he's got a bloody nose. Gus said she knocked him flat on his ass."

He was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open.

"And why are you still sitting here?" Henry pointed toward the exit. "I'll tell Vick. Go!"

Lassiter went.

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He drove entirely too fast getting over there, raced up the steps to her door, then stopped cold.

She wasn't going to want to see him. She was just as likely to pop him in the nose, too, after the way he practically attacked her in the ladies' room last week. There was no reason she would—

Shut it, Lassiter.

He knocked. Hard. Okay, he pounded on the door.

Juliet pulled it open and stared at him. There were tears on her face and she looked distraught and he thought she was beautiful nonetheless. She breathed his name, very still for only a moment, and then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, so tight he could hardly breathe but then again he was hugging her back with equal force because he'd just missed her so damned much.

"Oh, God," she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here." She drew back only far enough to pull him inside, closing the door behind him. "Carlton, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What? What are you sorry for?" He grasped her arms, not willing to let her go just yet.

She responded by hugging him again, her damp cheek against his shirt. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"O'Hara, I'll be damned if you ever let me down. What happened with Spencer?" He held her, drinking in the scent of her, thinking how in the hell did I think I could build up immunity to you?

She let him go and deposited herself on the sofa gracelessly, very unhappy. "I punched him."

"I heard that part." He sat on the coffee table in front of her. "What I didn't hear was why, exactly."

Now she looked fierce. "Because I'd had it with him constantly putting you down. I'd had it and I told him to shut it and I warned him, but he didn't listen, and then he was down. I don't even really remember doing it but I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry at all. I know I should be sorry. I'm..." she took a breath. "I'm a little sorry that I'm not sorry, but that's it. I'm done with him."

"Because of..." God, he couldn't say it. "Because you were..." Crap.

Juliet looked at him, her dark blue eyes intense. "Because it was long past time. Because he's the reason you didn't want to be partners with me anymore, right? And I'd rather have you in my life than him. I would. It shouldn't be like that, but he doesn't operate like other people and I'm tired of everyone else having to adapt to him. I'm tired of me having to adapt to him. And I am so sorry I didn't pop him a long time ago." And with that, she cupped his face and kissed him full on the mouth.

Lassiter was reeling—first with the magic of her lips against his, second from his heart somersaulting in his chest, and third from confusion—but he kissed her back, because hell, how could he not?

She pulled back, searching his face, his eyes, looking so soulful and sorry and unbelievably lovely that he leaned in and kissed her again, and she sighed out a yes against his mouth and tugged at him to join her on the sofa, where they went on kissing.

He tasted her tears and kissed them away, whispering, "I've missed you."

"You shouldn't have kicked me loose," she whispered back, and he felt that old twinge in his chest.

"I had to." He stroked her hair.

"Why, Carlton?" She was earnest. "I never believed it was about growth or experience or resume-building. Please tell me why you separated us."

"Because..." No. He shouldn't. She might fly out the door to be with Shawn if he said it, out of guilt if nothing else.

But if that was likely to happen, he needed to know it now.

Juliet slipped her fingers into his hair, stroking gently. "Please."

"Because he was going to propose to you."

Her hand stilled, and she stared at him silently.

"And I... I could be your partner if you were just dating him, but if you married him, I'd never make it. Never." He disentangled himself from her, moving to the end of the sofa, searching her face as she'd earlier searched his.

She put a trembling hand to her lips, meeting his gaze, her breathing rapid. "Oh, Carlton."

He felt a stab of... pain. Horror. Embarrassment. Her horror and embarrassment.

But she kissed you just now. She kissed you.

She's emotional, that's all.

"No," she said flatly. "I would never have married Shawn. Ever. Even if he asked, which he didn't, and wouldn't have."

"He had a ring."

Juliet frowned.

"I heard him and Gus talking about it."

"Right. So Gus paid for it," she said derisively.

"No, actually I think he stole it from Henry."

She laughed. "Even better. No, Carlton. No. I would never have said yes to him and are you serious? You broke us up because of an incredibly remote possibility?"

A flash of annoyance—pride—took over. "You're his girlfriend. You put up with as much crap as Henry and Gus and you didn't even have the excuse of a lifelong connection with him. You knew he was an ass and you dated him anyway. How in the hell was I supposed to guess you wouldn't marry him too?"

"You could have asked," she shot back.

"Oh, the hell I could," he snapped, and got to his feet. "Do you hear what you're saying? I was supposed to go to my partner and best friend and say hey, I was wondering if I had any reason to think you might actually love your boyfriend enough to marry him? Or should I just moon around over you for another few years?"

She got up too. "Well, if you felt this way for years, why didn't you say something before I started dating him?"

Lassiter couldn't believe it. "Declan," he retorted. "Scott Seaver. Luntz. Hell, Lars Ewing. Partners. Where was there room for me to think I was ever someone you'd be interested in?"

"Did you know I wasn't?"

"Every damned day!"

"Then you weren't paying attention, Head Detective." Her arms were folded across her chest and her tone was defiant.

"And that's a steaming crock of crap. I watched everything about you, O'Hara. You think I wouldn't have jumped at a chance if I saw one?"

"Yes." She advanced on him, angry now. "Yes. I think you wouldn't have jumped at the chance."

He stared at her, angry himself and also at a loss... because she was most likely right.

"And I couldn't make you jump, could I? Senior partner? Damaged goods? Certain nothing would ever go his way?"

She took another step closer, blue eyes ablaze.

"You know what the worst thing about me is, Carlton? The thing I'm most ashamed of? Even more than punching a man for pissing me off, not that he didn't have it coming because he damned well did?"

"No," he ventured.

"It's that I can honestly admit to you now that I always knew Shawn was a phase. I always knew it would never work out. But you were off limits and he was right there and he cared about me and he was willing to take a chance and I just gave in. I used him. That's a terrible thing for me to have to admit about myself, you know?"

"No," he said again. "You didn't. You didn't use him. You're not like that."

"It doesn't matter if I am. You put me aside," she said sadly.

"No! Dammit, yes, I was selfish. I was thinking about my feelings. You never had to doubt what you were to me as a partner and friend because I told you. But I had no obligation to reveal my heart to someone I was sure... wouldn't want it." He took a breath. "I had to look out for myself, and I thought you would be just fine, professionally and personally."

Juliet took the last step between them and put her hands on his arms. "You are so smart, but such an idiot. My whole life is filled with smart idiot men."

"You don't have to be smart to be an idiot man," he mumbled, and she laughed.

"That's right. Damn you, Carlton Lassiter. Just... oh, screw it," she said breathlessly, and pulled him down to kiss her.

He did not resist, did not want to resist, but would have resisted anyone's suggestion that he resist. Her mouth was hot and perfect and her body like velvet pressed to his.

She began pushing him backwards, still kissing him, and he could tell he was being herded, not that he cared where until he was in her bedroom and she was taking off her blouse and removing his jacket and holster.

"Wait," he said weakly. "We have to—"

"No. We don't have to. We've spent enough time talking and not talking and guessing and guessing wrong and reading each other completely bass-ackwards. I am going to show you. Now. Here. Shut up."

He gripped her arms. "Stop. I'm trying to get over you. You understand?"

"Too damn bad," she said. "Ain't gonna happen. Because I won't let you." Stepping away from him, she took off her bra and stood before him topless and beautiful and extremely annoyed. "I have thought about you nearly nonstop for months. At first I was only confused and depressed and upset that you'd shut me out. Then I talked to Henry, who hinted around that you had feelings for me."

Lassiter was horrified again. "Crap on a... cracker of crap!"

"Don't worry." She was dismissive. "He would never tell anyone else. The thing is," and she stepped forward again, grasping his hands and placing them on her breasts, which just about stopped his heart. She sighed briefly, arching into his hands even though he was frozen. "The thing is, after that I started thinking of you in other ways. Not like I had a choice, of course. Mmm... I do love your hands..."

"O'Hara," he said weakly. The silky feel of her breasts—her hardening nipples—against his palms was making him dizzy.

"Kiss me, Carlton." She pushed against his hands. "Everywhere."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

He sat on the edge of the bed, because standing wasn't really possible anymore, and Juliet stayed close in front of him as he touched and stroked her soft skin. She sighed when his lips found her nipple, as did he, and arousal spiked from the simple feel of her flesh against his tongue.

"Yes," she breathed. "More."

And he said... "I have to call Vick."

She paused. "To tell her you're sucking on my nipples?"

"Not exactly." He felt heat flooding his face at the idea of that conversation. "She sent me here to check up on you."

"You didn't come over here on your own?" she asked, her tone a little edgy.

"I would have," he said immediately, and accented this by grasping the waistband of her slacks and tugging down to expose yet more of her lovely body. "Don't you dare think I needed to be told." He kissed her navel, feeling her shuddering, and efficiently slipped her panties down over her hips. She stepped out of both slacks and panties smoothly and put her hands on his shoulders.

"If you're going to call her, you'd better do it now," she advised.

"Phone," he breathed, kissing her hip, stroking her thighs.

She handed him the one from the bedside table, and while he keyed in Vick's number with shaking fingers, Juliet knelt before him and unbuckled his belt, pushing his thighs apart and unzipping his pants before yanking his shirt free and unbuttoning it slowly. Her fingertips grazing his chest were like little points of fire.

"Lassiter," Vick said in his ear. "What's going on?"

He hesitated, because Juliet's wandering fingers had gone south. "Chief," he managed. "I'm here at O'Hara's. She's fine." Fine. Oh hell yeah fine.

"What happened?"

She took off her clothes and demanded I make love to her, and I'm complying. "She was defending my honor."

"Come again?"

"Spencer was mouthing off about me and she hit him. She's calmer now." Though I'm not, because that beautiful mouth is about to surround a part of me... his mind fried. "I'm going to stay with her a while."

Juliet's little laugh sent vibrations along his most sensitive and now highly aroused part.

"All right," Vick agreed, like it mattered right now whether she did or not. "Henry's going to talk to Shawn. Check in with me later."

"Yes, sir," he said, hung up and lay back, gasping.

"Sir," Juliet repeated, laughing as she stroked him, but re-enveloped him with her hot and seeking mouth, thus stopping his ability to speak as well as her own.

He wouldn't last long if she continued that savory activity, and he intended to fulfill her command that he kiss her everywhere, so he stopped her, drawing her up onto the bed with him, allowing her to assist with the removal of his clothing.

It took longer than it should have because she seemed to want to kiss him everywhere too.

In fact, there was a hell of a lot of kissing of all the parts they could both reach while maintaining as much body contact as possible.

Finally, Juliet settled down over his hips, fitting to him in perfect intimacy, her thighs hot against his. For a blissful few moments she rocked—they rocked—together, and then she stopped, becoming absolutely motionless, fixing him with a laser-intensity blue stare.

Clutching his shoulders with hands made of steel, she leaned in, her hair brushing his chest, her nipples warm points of paradise against his skin.

"Do I," she growled, "have your full attention?"

Lassiter gasped out a yes, even though at least one key part of his body was very determinedly not paying attention to anything but its own raging need.

"Are you sure?" she persisted.

He pushed up against her, but she would not move in response. "Yes. What the hell else in the world matters besides you?"

Juliet smiled slowly and graced him with a kiss, all too brief, and all too torturous because it brought her full upper body into contact with his and slightly shifted their lower-body connection, just about making his eyes roll back in his head.

"I. Love. You."

Lassiter's heart started pounding with such force that he couldn't believe the whole building wasn't shaking along with it.

"I love you, Carlton. I don't want there to be any question in your mind. Ever. Not about this. I. Love. You. Okay? You get it?"

"Yes," he said, suddenly hoarse.

"Yes?" She squeezed her thighs against his, undulating with deliberate precision, again making pleasure shoot through every nerve ending.

"God, yes," he managed, cupping her face to bring her down for a kiss. "I love you too. In every way. Forever." He pushed up again meaningfully and she lost her stern expression, giving in to the urgent need to go over the edge into mindless ecstasy.

And then there really wasn't any talking for a good long while.

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