Under Pressure

[musicalluna]

Title: Under Pressure
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: eT
Characters/Pairings: Lassiter, Juliet/Shawn
Genre: Drama
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Tension is high in the SBPD after the mayor's personal assistant is murdered and when Shawn Spencer shows up to assist, well, it's an explosion waiting to happen.
A/N: Prompt: Out of Control. The prompt actually came after the idea for this one. I believe it was Jash (and maybe some others) who asked for this idea. And I decided to indulge. XD For the Shules Ficathon '08
Disclaimer: I don't own them. *SIGH*

 

Tension has been high in the station for the last four days following the brutal murder of the mayor's personal assistant. Everyone from the press to the mayor himself is pressuring Karen to find the perpetrator and get the case closed quickly and efficiently but her detectives simply aren't finding the clues they need to make progress. The pressure is making Karen terse with them and they in turn take out that aggression on one another and the officers around them, particularly since neither of them has been sleeping. So when Karen calls in Shawn Spencer of all people to help out of sheer desperation, everyone knows the fireworks are not long in coming.

Juliet manages to spare a tight smile for her boyfriend when he arrives along with a quick, chaste kiss.

“So the mayor's assistant's murder, eh?” he says, head tilting to the side as he regards the board of photographs and other various materials she and Lassiter have compiled on the murder. He's blithe and calm just like he always is and Juliet feels a twinge of envy. “Can I have a few minutes alone with the crime scene photos?” he asks and she ignores the literally audible sound of Lassiter's teeth grinding together and says, “Sure, Shawn,” before dragging her partner away.

“This is a waste of time,” he hisses as soon as they're vaguely out of hearing range. “We don't have time to indulge him and his delusions.”

“Carlton,” Juliet says, forcing her voice to remain even, “We haven't made any progress. Five minutes is not going to ruin our investigation of nothing.”

He sneers at her and stalks off, probably to get more coffee. She stands and waits, kneading her temples and wondering whether the urge to scream or the urge to cry will win out in the end.

When he returns, they join Shawn in front of the crime scene board, hoping against hope that he's found something, anything.

He shrugs at them and says, “The spirits aren't getting anything.”

And that's when Carlton snaps.

“Some psychic powers,” he practically spits. “What a load of crap. You're nothing but a waste of the department's time, space, air, and money. I don't know why the hell we even bother with you. Pull a few miracles out of your ass every once in awhile and you get a cushy job doing jack shit but you're totally useless when it comes right down to it Spencer, aren't you?”

“Carlton—” Juliet tries, but he's in full rant mode. He doesn't know better and she wants to be angry, even is a little, but she knows where it's coming from.

“All of that stupid, ridiculous flopping and flailing around but you never really do anything,” he snarls, words biting like he's spewing mouthfuls of barbed wire. “It's just a bunch of lucky guesses. I'm sick and tired of you waltzing in here like you own the place and then treating real police work like it's a joke. You're the joke Spencer, and it's about time that you realized it.”

And because it's been a long time since Carlton has ripped into Shawn with any real fervor, and because she has managed to keep the severity of the situation out of her conversations with Shawn, and because the ruthless attack blindsides him, Shawn's face flashes through a myriad of emotions, too shocked to mask them. Hurt lingers just a moment too long and she knows Carlton has gone too far. Before Shawn can even open his mouth, his face already twisting into an expression of anger that she knows will only fuel Carlton's fire, she turns on him herself.

“That's enough,” she snaps, voice icy and brooking no argument. Carlton turns, his anger flickering a moment to confusion, but she doesn't pause long enough to let him regroup. “I understand you're stressed out, Carlton, so am I. But that does not give you the right to speak to him like that when you know perfectly well how valuable he's been to countless investigations. If he could do something, give us anything, I'm sure he would have and I think you know that. You will not speak to him like that.”

Carlton is shocked enough that he's silent for a almost full minute, staring at her. Finally he recovers, shooting the barest of glances in Shawn's direction and, deflating, he grits out, “Sorry.”

Shawn shrugs like it's no big deal and says, “No harm, no foul,” but Juliet can see the gratitude in his eyes and the tension oozing out of his body.

Turning back to his desk, his mouth pressed into a thin line, Carlton reburies himself in his paperwork, now thoroughly embarrassed over his outburst. She moves up beside Shawn and squeezes his arm gently.

“Go. Find us something. Please, Shawn,” she murmurs. She knows he can do it. It will just take time and space. She and Carlton will have to suffer the wrath of impatient bureaucrats, but Shawn doesn't and, with any luck, that will provide him some advantage. And no matter what Carlton says out of frustration because he's reached the end of his own ropes, he knows as well as she does that Shawn can do what they can't. “We're counting on you now.”

He nods and murmurs, “One more miracle, coming up.”