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A/N: Episode tag for Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing,

Chapter10: Check

"I'm starting to wonder," Shawn said. His brows slid low over his eyes. His lips, usually grinning with satisfaction, were turned downwards, giving him that all-too mature look that only surfaced whenever he was truly, deeply concerned.

Juliet had seen that expression only a handful of times. She dipped her chin to her chest. "You're finally going to set up a tent with me in Sane Camp and admit that Lassiter is being triggered by some case that he's been investigating?"

Shawn barely blinked, barely smiled. "Insane Camp? Like a camp for crazy people?"

"Sane Camp, Shawn. You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. If you're going to do a bit you have to stick the landing, Jules. You only get one shot at these."

"In… Sane …Camp."

"It's too late now. It's over—the moment is totally over. And in what universe—except one filled with the supernaturally gifted—is Lassiter an absolute beast like this? I mean, no disrespect, but we both know that he's the pacer on the big cases—Yes, he's had some streaks of his own from time to time but he never pulls way out front like this."

"Hmm. So what you're saying is, Lassiter is upstaging you and the only way that you can accept it is if he has some kind of supernatural help?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying… It's slightly true but it's not what I'm saying. I was proving my point, Jules. Lassie is uncharacteristically awesome right now and the universe is not right. If this was a who-can-get-it-wrong-the-fastest race and Lassie was in first place then we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now… Lassie's off. He's off and it's weird. I mean—We all saw what being exposed to Arachnid Potentates did to him— "

"That wasn't even remotely—"

"—He was seeing stuff and freaking out. And since then, he's completely leveled up—which is making me wonder if I had it wrong and it's not precognition at all. What if it's some form of telepathy? What if he's Professor X and not Johnny Smith? I mean, who am I kidding? Dead Zone? Really? That's not Marvel or DC canon… I'm actually kinda disappointed in myself."

Juliet drew a breath, let her mind slowly sift through everything that Shawn had just spouted. "… So after a few hours of sleep and a conversation with your mother—who is a very sane person by the way—You're telling me that your conclusion is not that Carlton is exhibiting obsessive tendencies or even a mild form of psychosis. You're saying that your big insight is that Carlton isn't predicting the future, he's reading people's minds?"

Shawn pursed his lips together and nodded, solemnly.

Juliet shook her head. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

Shawn gestured to the truck. "Jules, he was doing some kind of channeling before. Look at him now, he's—" He froze, his shoulders dropped downward and eyes started scanning the parking lot. "Where'd he go?"

Juliet spun back towards the truck, her eyes scanning the place where she had last seen her partner. "Maybe he's checking the other side?" She ducked her head under the truck, walked slowly around it, looking for any sign of him.

Nothing. Where did he go?

She glanced over to the building. The dark shop seemed undisturbed, uninterested in anything that they had going on today.

"This is the second time," she mumbled, pulling out her phone and pressing his number in her favorites. "Third time if you count Beatriz's." She placed the phone to her ear and waited. Shawn mouthed "Who is Beatriz," but she ignored it.

Carlton's phone went to voicemail. Juliet pressed the number again and took another look around the parking lot. How did he manage to go off alone?

Back to voicemail.

"Oh my god!" She tucked the phone back into her pocket and ran her fingers along her forehead.

"He didn't answer?" Shawn asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and scanning the lot again.

Juliet shook her head. Her eyes trained on the shops, the only place that he could have disappeared to. "He's gotta be there," she said, gesturing to the small alleyway that separated H.Thompson Hauling from Gail's Nails. She moved directly towards the set of shops and ducked between the cool, shaded walkway.

Tan and gray walls climbed far over her head, giving way to gaudy a.c. units and electrical cables which draped like a canopy of vines and obscured all but a few rays of the sun. Shawn kept a steady pace behind her, his sneakers masking his pace but his panting making it clear that he was scurrying to keep up with her.

Two options sat up ahead. To the right, a small empty lot full of dumpsters and discarded trash. To the left, a much larger space, with ten-foot fencing, laced with barbed-wire all around the top. Inside the fence, a fleet of white trucks of varying sizes, were parked like sentinels all around the lot. A flash of memories flooded her mind; Allister's truck pulling away, last night's chase that led to nowhere.

Juliet froze; her heart catching in her throat.

"You okay?" Shawn asked, softly.

She nodded then sighed. "I swear, he's got me so worked up that I'm starting to freak out at the sight of these things."

Shawn wrapped his hands along the fencing and squinted an eye through. "I don't get it. What's the big deal with these?"

"Beats me. But clearly something about them keeps triggering him."

"And now there's like thirty of 'em."

"Right."

"But where is he?"

Juliet scanned the lot, then the dumpsters behind her.

Nothing.

She swiped open her phone and pressed his number again.

The faintest of jingles played off to her right; a distant, familiar tune. Her eyes swept the lot again.

The ringing stopped.

She pressed his name again and started moving down the fencing; away from the building, back towards the property's edge.

A faint jingle played, gradually rising to a clearer level as she drew closer.

"Bad boys, Bad Boys, Watcha Gonna Do… Whatcha Gonna do when they come for you." The song stopped, repeated—playing in a small, pocketed-volume that was somewhere out ahead of her.

She scanned both lots again, looked further down the fencing to the tree line that stood beyond it.

Shawn tapped her arm and pointed out ahead of them. His keen eye had spotted something hanging along the fencing at the far, corner end. "Call it again," he said.

Juliet pressed Carlton's number as she jogged alongside Shawn towards the dark strip of fabric hanging from the sharp blades of wire.

The jingle played, the rhythm now clear as it sounded from the inside of Lassiter's blazer, stuck and tattered along the barbed-wire fence.

Juliet ended the call, pocketed her phone and pulled her pistol from its holster. "I swear to God, if he's running down a suspect without calling for backup, I am going to smack him in the head!"

"That's nice, Jules," Shawn mumble, "Way to go straight for the shins." He threaded his fingers through the fencing and pulled at the hanging blazer. "He's never going to get another wear out of this. That thing is hooked good… Why'd he climb inside?"

Juliet shook her head as she scanned the rows of trucks, looking for any kind of shadow. "Carlton," she said softly, but sternly.

No response.

She called his name again, only slightly louder.

Shawn sucked his teeth. "Why are you acting like it's after midnight? People are up."

"Shawn, my partner is either trespassing on private property or trying to apprehend a suspect. Either way—me, drawing more attention to us is not a good strategy!"

She called for him again, this time working her way to the opposite corner of the fencing where each truck was backed in, leaving a line of perfectly-square, truck cabins all arrayed symmetrically.

Scanning them turned up nothing. She trotted down the distance, letting her eyes take in as many details as possible as each vehicle whipped past. One truck after another and then finally, a pair of slacks leading to mud-stained shoes.

She froze, trained her pistol out ahead of her. "Show me your hands!"

A familiar shirt shimmied from under the vehicle. Two reddened palms pressed towards her.

"Carlton!" Juliet aimed her weapon towards the ground and pressed her face to the fence. "Have you lost your mind? What are you doing in there?"

Lassiter stood, quickly wiping his hands along his pants and adjusting his collar and tie. He furrowed his brows, looked as if he were searching for some excuse but only let a single brow raise as if that were the best answer that he had.

Juliet softened. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a few scapes," Lassiter mumbled, looking back at his suit jacket, still stuck at the far end of the fence.

"Did you even try levitating or aparating?" Shawn asked. "You could have the cornucopia of powers, Lassie—Not just the one. You're never gonna know your limit unless you try."

"Stop it!" Juliet turned her attention back to her partner. "Carlton, I'm going to ask you again, what are you doing in there?"

Lassiter shook his head, clearly not quite settled on a response.

"Are you alone?"

He frowned. "Of course."

"So you hopped a barbed-wire fence to look at a truck that you could've easily seen from where I'm standing?"

Lassiter narrowed an eye; looked back at the vehicle next to him. "Let me show you something." He walked towards her, stopped close to the fence and pointed at the back of the truck to a seemingly non-descript area near the bumper.

Juliet studied it; noted how Shawn made quick work with his divination. Nothing distinct jumped out at her, she glanced over to Shawn whose eyes were in a half-squint.

"I don't get it," she offered, "What am I looking at?"

Shawn brought a finger to his forehead. "Jules, the spirits are telling me that they're telling Lassie that the last person to drive this truck went off-roading."

"Right," Lassiter said, "Except for the psychic crap."

"So wait," Juliet squinted at the bumper; noticed the specks of mud along the rubber flaps and the base of the undercarriage. She thought back to Carlton's sudden sense of clarity as he led her and the ranger to the exact spot where Teresa Patterson's name tag was resting. It was in a part of the woods that they had not taken, a part away from the path, away from the inlet that the ranger had taken them on away from the bruised and beaten body. "You're saying that this truck was on the trail that we found Teresa Patterson on yesterday? The ranger took us there in a Jeep, Carlton—and even that kept sinking in the mud. The body that the hikers discovered was nearly two miles in. How could this thing make it even close to that far?"

"This didn't need to go that far," Lassiter said. His eyes fixed onto something beyond him. "It's the chase …the hunt …"

"The what?" Juliet holstered her weapon, watched how her partner closed his eyes and seemed as if he was beginning to sway. "Carlton!"

He winced then blinked up at her.

"I want you back on this side of the fence, now! Don't make me come in there and get you."

Carlton's jaw clenched. His hesitation, though brief, told her everything that she wanted to know.

She took a step toward the fence. "Carlton!"

Lassiter took a step backwards and placed his bloodied palms out towards her. "Just one more minute."

"What in the world has gotten into you? You know you can't be in there!"

"It's here, O'Hara! It's all right here somewhere. I know it!"

"You don't know it! You told me so yourself a dozen times." She felt Shawn nudge her arm.

"Jules, just let him feel it out. Give it a second."

"Shawn—We don't do this. Carlton needs probable cause in order to be in there."

"He's got probable cause."

"Oh? What is it?"

Shawn stared back at Lassiter, then gestured half-heartedly to the trucks. "There's a lot of trucks in there… I mean, look at them. Who needs that many trucks? The guy's probably a truck dealer or some—Actually Jules is right, Lassie. I got nothin'. Come back out, you're making it weird."

Lassiter rolled his eyes then moved determinedly back to the opposite end of the truck and out of Juliet's view. There was a faint sound of him fidgeting with something on the front bumper before a shrill voice bellowed into the air.

"Hey!"

A distinct, metallic clicking sound echoed amongst the vehicles.

Juliet flinched, snapped her sidearm from its holster and pointed it in the direction of the voice.

A giant belly waddled between the trucks. Heavy footfalls dug into the cement in a biting, ticking sort of way.

Carlton reappeared into her view. His gaze was locked ahead of him, his hands slowly raising until they were fully in the air.

Juliet read his posture immediately; processed dozens of hours of training in her mind. She reached quickly for her badge and held it high in the air. "S.B.P.D. !"

The belly moved slowly forward until the space between the trucks revealed a round face, stern and set with a pitbull's expression. Rotund arms were tucked in tightly, sausage-like fingers wrapped around the cold, black barrel of a shotgun, leveled evenly at Carlton's chest.

Juliet inched around until she had a better view of him. "S.B.P.D." She said again.

The pitbullish face flushed then turned briefly in her direction. "You with the police?"

"Yes!" Juliet shouted, steadying her grip on her weapon. "Lower your weapon."

"You're with the people out front with all them lights and cars?"

Juliet nodded calmingly. "Yes. There was an incident at the diner across from you. We were checking out the area."

"Oh?" The man jutted the barrel into Carlton's chest. "So he's a suspect?"

Juliet bit her lip as she watched her partner grimace and look as if he were resisting the urge to rub his chest. He dipped his chin and surrendered his hands higher as if to let her know that he was okay.

She breathed a steadying calm through pursed lips. "He's not a suspect, he's my partner."

Carlton nodded, his reddened palms beginning to wilt; his brows gradually furrowing, as if something was again pulling his attention away.

"Partner, huh? How'd he get in here?"

"He climbed over the fence," Juliet said, gesturing to Calrton's blazer in the distance.

Lassiter nodded, slowly. "The fence," he mumbled, his voice soft and drifting. "It wasn't here before."

The dog man bristled. "Yeah? How you know that? You been watching me?" His shoulders hiked an inch higher, the gun leveled more evenly. "You come in here makin' up some story about some trouble in the shopping center—don't got nothin' to do with me, and here I find you up and hopped a two-week old fence and for what? For what huh? You here to take another one of my trucks?"

"Would it've been here, if it hadn't been there?" Lassier muttered.

"What?"

"It was. She wasn't …"

Dog Man glanced over to Juliet, his face growing a shade of red. "You sure he's with y'all? Cause I ain't seen no man in blue talk this much nonsense."

"He is," Juliet said, "He's just a little off right now. Please lower your weapon."

Dog-Man sucked on a puckering lip. "I ain't doin' nothing till this trespasser proves to me that he is who you say he is. Trouble used to come late at night but don't think I'ma lower my guard just cause the sun's up." He gestured with the large barrel of the gun. "You got a badge, Son?"

"… but she was," Lassiter said, barely loud enough to be heard. He stared at the ground. His hands dropped down to his sides as if something far more important had jumped into his mind.

Dog Man shifted his weight backwards, pushed the barrel of the gun forward. "Easy, Boy! Go slow!"

"Doubles …"

The pitbullish expression and the gun barrel moved closer. "What's that?"

"She's on doubles," Lassiter said. His shoulders swayed.

"Not now," Juliet hissed. She pocketed her badge and leveled her weapon at Dog-Man.

Dog-Man shook his head. "Did you hear what I said? I said, show me some identification. Shouldn't be no trouble if you are who she says you are."

Carlton stared past the man, his face placid, his eyes glossed and looking as if his mind was far beyond them.

"Sir?" Juliet set her aim at the store owner, watched as confusion and frustration seemed to battle under the folds of skin that made up his pitbull eyes. "Please, lower your weapon and let me handle this. My partner isn't feeling well."

"No change, new chase," Carlton said, his eyelids fluttering low.

"Carlton, come back to me!"

"New change, no chase."

"Carlton!"

"New change. New chase. New… who?" Lassiter blinked at the ground, then looked over to her. He studied her; his eyes gradually livening with a renewed clarity—A clarity of someone who wasn't dozing, who wasn't trapped in a half-dream-half-sleep, sanity-challenged, walking nightmare. He squinted, suddenly looking as if he were fighting a headache. "O'Hara?"

Juliet nodded emphatically. "You see? He's not feeling well. If you don't mind, I'd like to get him medical attention."

"Yeah …" Dog-Man lowered his shotgun and puckered a large lip. "Yeah, that's probably for the best. Your boy's shell-shocked for sure. He could use some first aide… He looks worse than my wife's fried eggs."

--

"You're staring at me," Calrton mumbled, his voice its usual acerbic, uninviting tone.

"Well I wonder why," Juliet shifted to let the EMT pass. She watched as he taped the IV tubes to Lassiter's forearm and set the fluids on a latch in the ambulance bed. "I'm not going to ask you what that was… I feel like that's all I do anymore."

"Yeah …" Carlton ran his thumb along the fresh surgical tape wrapped around his palms, leaving him looking like a boxer half-ready to begin a fight.

"So there was mud on the truck?"

He looked up at her, his eyes showing renewed energy. "It was there, O'Hara… On the trail, I mean—"

"I know what you mean. So how do you connect it? You're not Shawn, Carlton—"

"Thank… God."

"If Vick is going to sign off on a warrant, you're going to need a lot more than a hunch. And you burned one big bridge with Mr. Thompson today. It's going to take a lot of convincing to get him to open up. If this is a lead that you want to follow, you're going to need to come up with a lot more than—"

"I know! Spare me the lecture, O'Hara!" He bore into her with a burning gaze that seemed to soften just as quickly. He pressed his back against the gurney and rested his head on the pillow with a sigh. "It'll connect," he said, "Like charting a night sky …" He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He said another few words; a mumbled sentence hidden beneath a breathy whisper that gradually faded until he was sound asleep.

The EMT caught Juliet's eye and motioned towards the door. Juliet nodded then shifted to one side as he slipped out of the cabin and into the parking lot.

"I'll leave you both alone while that drips out," he said, "Looks like he just wants a little shut-eye anyway."

Juliet mouthed her thanks then returned her focus to Carlton, breathing slowly, head tilted back on the pillow and beginning to gradually look relaxed. She wanted to trade places with him; wanted to feel the serenity of her own eyes closing for just a few minutes. She rubbed a hand over her neck, feeling the tension gradually release with each sharp press of her fingers. She let her eyes close, settling into the sensation of her own self-massage. She breathed slowly, deeply; relaxing her shoulders and willing her muscles to absorb every second of the small window of relief.

She felt the cool breeze blow through the ambulance door, heard the stirring of the EMTs, the distant conversations in the parking lot, then a quiet engine and soft creeping tires draw near. It stopped. No door opened.

Juliet breathed another deep breath, pressed her fingers even deeper into her tensing neck and then froze. Why was the car still running?

The cool air blowing through the ambulance door chilled her skin. She opened her eyes, curious. It wasn't a patrol car, checking in. It was a late-nineties Saturn. Mid-sized. Black. It sat just beyond the patrol cars; far enough to be out of the way, near enough to observe everything. Inside was just a silhouette with no turning head, no wandering gaze. The driver flashed the lights once, as if winking or saying hello then shifted back into gear and just as slowly drove away.

Juliet watched it go, her eyes trained on the driver--Medium-build and silhoutted but with features that didn't match Shawn, Madeleine or the petite Virginia Allen. There was far more action in the parking lot, with the lights and the grunts. Far more distraction in front of the door, with the milling EMTs. But for reasons that she couldn't explain--and that was unsettling in the back of her mind--someone had been watching them; and for some reason, they wanted her to know it.