Psych fic. 228 words. G/K.
Placed third in
psychland's "There are No Small Parts" minor character challenge.
Breathe, Karen. Breathe.
Shutting her eyes, and attempting to shut out everything else, Santa Barbara Chief of Police Karen Vick breathed. In and out. Calming... relaxing...
And then her eyes flew open. It wasn't helping.
Climbing out of bed, she quietly opened the door to her daughter's bedroom and looked at her. Iris had only just fallen asleep an hour ago, wrapped around her new pink backpack, too excited about tomorrow for the normal methods to tire her out.
What was exciting for Iris was a bit terrifying for Karen.
And, while looking at her now, knowing she was safe, was calming her nerves, Karen knew it wouldn't last. The minute Iris was out of eyesight, she'd be worrying again. Even though she knew the people who'd be taking care of Iris were good people, the fear remained. They were good, but they weren't great.
And she needed great.
Well, non-official great. And that left her with one option.
--
"Spencer, Guster," she said, nodding to each of them over her morning coffee.
"Hello, chief," her psychic consultant said, striding into her office. "How may we be of assistance?"
They picked out a good nanny, she reminded herself. They can do this too. Probably.
"Is this about that series of high-end safe crackings?" Guster asked excitedly. "Because I am all over that."
"Nah," Spencer said dismissively, "it's probably about the latest case Lassiter just can't crack. Right, chief?" He winked.
...breathe, Karen.