Haunting 101 [3/?]
Psych
Mature
Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer eventually
~5900 words (total so far)
Carlton is the only one who can see Shawn, but helping him? He didn't sign up for that.
Somehow, it didn't seem fair. Out of all the people who Shawn could be stuck with, it was Carlton who had never had much patience or affection for him even when he'd been alive. It was driving them both slowly bonkers, and it had only been a few days. He could tell Shawn was getting restless with it, with the need to do something, to have an impact again. Carlton had refused several more times to act as Shawn's conduit to the outside world even though it only frustrated them both more. Carlton hated that it was him who could see Shawn. Not because of the annoyance or the burden - though both were taxing him as well - but because Shawn deserved someone who would be willing to do that for him. Who had not only put up with his shenanigans but encouraged them. Took part in them.
His stomach clenched when he realized he was thinking of Shawn in the past tense again. Carlton had caught himself doing that several times over the last few days - sometimes when he was in the same room as Shawn - and every single time he had to find something solid to touch, to lean against. To ground him.
The contradiction was simple, but it left his head spinning. Shawn was the past. He was gone forever for everyone except Carlton. He could see the lingering effects of grief everywhere he looked. It felt like the world itself was mourning Shawn Spencer's passing - the days had been overcast, heavily clouded and weakening the sun for most of the days since his funeral. But as much as it seemed everyone else mourned, Carlton came home to find Shawn being an annoyance, attempted cheeriness, camaraderie that neither of them felt but both had to fake for the time being.
However long that would be.
He felt a cold chill run down his spine, and Carlton's eyes snapped up, peering around the room to try and see something - anything - that indicated Shawn was near. He flinched when he saw nothing, still haunted by the chill that had seemed to follow him around for the last few days. "I still can't see you," he mumbled quietly to himself and to whoever else might be listening.
After a moment, he added, "But get off my desk, Spencer."
For some reason, Carlton couldn't see Shawn when they were outside of the house. It was a blessing and a curse, really. He instinctively wanted to keep an eye on Shawn at all times, to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble or setting up some prank or another while Carlton wasn't paying attention. But he knew that if he could see him, then he'd be constantly distracted by something no one else could even see.
The chilly presence encompassed him for a moment, freezing him to his core, usually meaning Shawn had walked through him. It was one of Shawn's favorite tricks, and he always teased Carlton about how he stopped moving, stopped breathing, probably stopped thinking until he'd had a moment to recover.
"You look like you've seen a ghost" was rapidly becoming the most annoying phrase in the English language.
"Carlton?" He looked up to see Juliet, her mouth set in a determined line as she watched him. Careful as always not to let him see how much she was still struggling with Shawn's death. "The uniforms just got in with Michelle Burns. She's in Interrogation B."
He nodded, pulling his thoughts away from Shawn and towards the case at hand. He was running through the details of the case, thinking while going through the motions the way he had been for years now. Not that there wasn't passion and excitement in it, but he made his way through the crowd on autopilot, lost in thought.
Michelle Burns had a long-standing feud with her professor, Dr. Bancroft who had been found in his office, covered in deep burns that had been made before he died. Meant to make him suffer. It hadn't been a difficult leap to make once the other professors and students had pointed at Michelle.
Hr fingers tapped away nervously on the edge of the table, her head whipping up with wide eyes the moment she heard the door open. Carlton slipped into the seat across from her, folding his hands on top of the table as he leveled a look at the nervous girl.
Or at least he tried. Movement caught his eye, and Carlton raised his head to look at the mirror sharply. His chest tightened, and the air in his lungs rushed out. Shawn leaned against the far wall, legs and arms crossed, head tilted as he peered with narrowed eyes and a serious expression at Michelle.
She followed his gaze, looking into the mirror, and Carlton knew he should look away. But he found himself turning, to see only the blank wall staring back at him. "Sir?"
He glanced back in the mirror, seeing Shawn leaning forward, eyes wide, mouth moving tentatively though Carlton couldn't hear what he was saying. His hands pushed him forward from the wall, speech obviously picking up in tempo, trying to say something. Carlton tried to meet his eyes and shook his head, wanting to gesture that he couldn't hear but knowing that it would only raise questions.
He looked back at Burns, frowning as he demanded, "Tell me about Dr. Bancroft, Ms. Burns."
By the end of the conversation, he was fairly sure she was innocent. Bancroft was an asshole, and Burns was a model student who happened to disagree with public humiliation in the classroom. She had given him several other people to look into, told him about people everyone else happened to forget. He thanked her for her time and turned his head to watch her leave.
Shawn's reflection was halved, only the right half of his body in the reflection of the mirror. Carlton forced his expression to remain neutral but Shawn noticed the way his gaze lingered. His grin was perfectly reflected, erasing the juvenile lop-sidedness that Carlton knew so well.
Carlton shivered and stood, leaving the room quickly before the creepy image seared itself into his brain.
-----
The moment he opened the door to his house, there was a rush of cold. Carlton closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath as Shawn threw himself through him. "You are a complete and total jackass."
Shawn must have passed through the door, because he was halfway through a sentence before Carlton could hear him. "-so she's totally innocent, but so are Grey and Allaric. Or if they're guilty, they're acting totally normal, so A+ sociopathic tendencies. Mrs. Bancroft's son from her first marriage - you need to look into him Lassie because I don't know what he did, but that kid's up to something and-"
"Spencer, breathe," Carlton ordered.
Shawn paused long enough to take a long breath, temporarily silencing himself. He smiled sheepishly at Carlton, following him through the house as Carlton made his way to his bedroom. "You know I don't need to do that, right?"
"I need you to. It gives me a break from listening," he said, slipping off his jacket, holster, and badge. "The son?"
Shawn nodded eagerly, his pace significantly slowed now that Carlton had reaffirmed that he could see and hear him. Shawn was always loud at first, always demanding attention. Demanding proof, which was good for Carlton because it meant he didn't have to ask for his own. "Danny. He's shifty as hell, and he's obviously hiding something. I didn't get to tail him much today. I wanted to get home before you did."
Carlton paused, watching as Shawn sprawled shamelessly out on his neatly-made bed. "Home," he repeated, feeling something inside him twist at the way Shawn shrugged, his hand waving nonchalantly.
"Not like I have anywhere else, Lassie. My apartment's been cleaned out, the lease on the Psych office is about to expire, and even if I considered that house of Henry's home, it's not like he could see me anyway." He grinned. "Home is where the not-quite-beating heart is."
Carlton needed a drink, but he didn't have alcohol in the house, and he didn't feel like leaving Shawn behind to go somewhere and get some or get wasted. It wouldn't help either of them if he started avoiding home - not that he hadn't thought about it from time to time, but then he remembered the broken lamp and the idea of Shawn becoming so enraged that he destroyed the house had him coming back every day as soon as he could.
"I saw you. At the station earlier. In the mirror."
Shawn perked up off the bed, beaming, "I thought you had!"
"But only in the reflection. And I couldn't hear you talking," Carlton shook his head. "Weird."
"Tell me about it," Shawn said. "But that's an improvement, right?"
"If you say so."
"Could you see me in the mirror before?" Carlton shook his head. "And you couldn't see me on the desk?" He shook his head again, headed for the kitchen to fetch himself food, aware that Shawn was right behind him, still prattling away. "Well, that's okay. We'll figure out like a system of signals or something to make sure I can communicate with you when you can't hear me."
"Can we go entirely to silent communication eventually?"
He felt Shawn's hand pass through him, freezing him to his core. Carlton stumbled against the wall, his eyes pulling to meet Shawn's as he slowly regained the ability to breathe. Shawn smiled apologetically. "Was just trying to push you. Sorry. I-" He laughed. "I forget, you know. That I'm not..." He trailed off, expression turning serious.
Carlton spoke up, "What does it feel like?"
Shawn shrugged, not looking at him. "It doesn't feel like anything. I can't feel anymore, not like that. But when I touch you, I can... It's like I'm with you. Like... Like an echo or something. Emotions, they feel a little bit like actual things. And I know you hate it, I do. But it's something in a sea of nothing else." Shawn glanced up at him, attempting to smile and failing to find a real one. "And I'm selfish, Lassie. I want to feel something."
Carlton took a deep breath and nodded, watching Shawn carefully as he considered. Selfish? No. Maybe he had been once, but Shawn wasn't selfish. Not when it mattered. Carlton nodded again and raised his hand, resting against the wall. He turned his palm to Shawn, fingers together, making an offer though he couldn't quite bring himself to voice it.
Shawn's smile slowly grew into something real, something hopeful. He lifted his hand and pushed it against Carlton's hand. The cold rested against his palm, bearable though it took Carlton several moments to clear the knee-jerk shutdown his brain attempted at the familiar touch.
Shawn's eyes closed, and Carlton almost pulled his hand away, unsure and more than a bit scared of what Shawn might be feeling because of him. But he waited, braced against the wall, his arm shaking as he continued to hold it up. Shawn's fingers curled between his, and Carlton wished suddenly that he could feel it - the scrape of nails, the warmth of his hand, all the bony knuckles and rough, work-worn skin.
Shawn pulled his hand away, eyes opening as he cradled it against his chest, blinking owlishly at Carlton. "Thank you."
Carlton pushed himself off the wall with a quick nod. "Yeah. Sure thing," he said gruffly before heading for the kitchen again. He wanted to ask what Shawn was thanking him for, but the possibilities were endless and worrying. It was better to keep things simple. So that when that day came when he came home to an empty house, it might not feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest again.
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