Keeper [10/14]
Title: Keeper
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Lassiter, Juliet/Shawn, Team Psych, OFC, OMCs
Warnings: Spoilers, non-graphic abduction of a child, violence
Spoilers: 1.01 Pilot, 1.04 9 Lives, 1.13 Game, Set . . . Muuurder
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Het, Family, Friendship, Casefile, Future!Fic
Chapters: 14
Completed: Yes
Word count: 968 this chapter
Disclaimer: See Prologue or Master Post.
Notes: See Prologue or Master Post.
Awards: See Prologue or Master Post.
Summary: Lassiter finally gets the proof he needs to bring Shawn Spencer's psychic charade to a screeching halt. If only it was that simple...
P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 E
A knock sounded on the door just before the desk sergeant poked her head in the room.
“Chief? You're going to want to turn on the TV. Channel three.”
Karen gave the officer an odd look but grabbed the remote for her TV and flipped it on, switching to channel three.
Juliet gasped and then, from her seat on the couch, pushed to her feet with Gus's assistance.
“Shawn?” she said and took a few steps closer.
Gus shadowed her and put an arm behind her back in case he needed to help support her. Henry was on her other side, a hand behind her elbow just in case, but she looked like she was doing well enough that she didn't need to be carried-for now.
Karen stood as well, but she pulled her eyes away from the screen where Shawn, Lassiter, and McNabb were visible to glance out of her office. TVs all over the station were on and officers and staff were crowded around them. She went and opened the door.
“Sanderson.”
“Yeah, Chief?” the sergeant asked, pulling himself away from one of the TVs.
“Find out where that signal is coming from and how they're getting it in here,” she ordered.
“Yes, Ma'am,” the officer said and hurried away.
She shut the door and returned, though she went to stand next to Henry rather than return to her chair.
“If you leave this room before I'm satisfied with your confession, then I'll set off the bomb and you'll never see your son-or your wife-again. How do you think Juliet would feel about that, Shawn?”
Juliet put a hand over her mouth to stifle a half sob and Gus tightened his grip on her as they watched the drama unfold.
o.o
Shawn was staring at the screen, eyes narrowed, and Lassiter and McNabb were both watching him.
“Spencer?” Lassiter said after a few seconds.
“Huh?” Shawn looked at him. “What is it, Lassie?”
“Are you going to just stand there?”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Well, normally I'd advise against this, but . . . you could give him what he wants.”
Shawn snorted. “That would just make your day, wouldn't it, Lassie-face? Me admitting that you're right and I'm not psychic?”
Lassiter thought about mentioning that he already had proof, but decided against it. Now was certainly not the time.
“Look, it's just me and McNabb here. If you were to confess it would be our word against yours and I've been losing that battle for seven years now.”
“He's a smart man, Shawn,” Fieldstone said. “You should listen to him.”
“He is a smart man,” Shawn agreed. “But I haven't listened to him for seven years. Starting now would just be weird. Besides that he's wrong.”
“Excuse me?” Lassiter said.
“Do tell,” Fieldstone encouraged, but from the grin on his face he already knew what Shawn was going to say.
“If I were to confess that I'm not psychic-and I'm not saying that I am-it wouldn't be just Lassie and Buzz here who would hear it, would it?”
Fieldstone laughed outright. “Bravo, Shawn,” he said and clapped a few times. “Tell me, how did you know?”
“The spirits told me that you're a peeping tom,” Shawn replied.
Fieldstone shook his head with a sigh.
“Shawn, Shawn, Shawn,” he said deprecatingly. “Why do you persist in this? Jaime is very frightened you know. And Juliet? Well I'm sure she's beside herself with worry now that she knows her son is in danger of being blown up and her husband won't do anything about it. You don't want to upset her delicate state do you? That can't be healthy for the baby.”
“Listen, Fieldstone-” Shawn started.
“No, you listen, Shawn,” Fieldstone said, losing patience and betraying his instability. “I've waited four years to hear you say this. It's very simple. All you have to do is admit you're not a psychic.”
“Just admit I'm not a psychic,” Shawn repeated, then added sarcastically, “Nothing else?”
“Well you'll need to provide proof. You could explain how you got the evidence that my ex-wife used to crucify me in court.”
“Oh my gosh, that's it. You don't even really care about the fact that she won, do you?” Shawn laughed harshly. “You just want to know how you screwed up.”
“Oh I care very much about the fact that she won,” Fieldstone said quietly. “She took my life away from me and you helped her. I do want to know how you did it, but I want all of your friends and coworkers to hear so they know how much of a fraud you are.”
Shawn snorted. “Yeah, I'd love to explain it, but really, I'm not sure I've got small enough words.”
“Spencer!” Lassiter hissed. “Now is not the time to mouth off.” Shawn opened said mouth to reply, but Fieldstone cut him off.
“I'm getting tired of waiting and if we stay here too much longer your police friends might just figure out how I'm doing this and find a way to stop me. Which is exactly what I'm sure you're hoping to accomplish with your stalling. So let's speed this up, shall we? You have exactly-” He made a show of looking at his watch, then back at the camera. “-three minutes to confess that you're not a psychic and explain how you got the evidence for my ex-wife. At the end of those three minutes I'll detonate the bomb and you and your son will die for your stubbornness.”
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