Title: Falling Slowly

Pairing: Shawn/Lassiter

Disclaimer: I don't own Psych, and sadly, that means that I also don't own Lassiter and Shawn. No copyright infringement intended.

Rating: R

Words: Approximately 33,000

And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out.
- Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova

Right after the funeral, Shawn leaves.

Lassiter doesn't realize it at first. He had seen Shawn after the ceremony with Madeline, but lost track of him after reaching Henry Spencer's house for the wake. He's not with O'Hara, who seems more fragile than he thought she would be and who is also being unexpectedly tight-lipped, or with Madeline, who he can see talking with Guster's mother. Lassiter starts looking for Shawn so that he can give his condolences and leave; there's still paperwork to finish pertaining to Henry's murder and Jerry Carp's arrest, and he wants to make sure that everything is handled to the letter, nothing for a pesky lawyer to unravel in court.

But Shawn isn't on the porch or in the kitchen or living room with other mourners, and Lassiter finds himself going up the stairs to Shawn's childhood bedroom, feeling torn between wanting to let the other man grieve in private and wanting to make sure he's okay. It's Guster he finds in the bedroom, though, looking at a wall of framed pictures of himself and Shawn as kids. Gus looks up as he comes into the room, offers up a weak half-smile, then looks back down at the picture he's pulled off the wall.

"I was just remembering how Mr. Spencer used to take Shawn and me trick or treating, but wouldn't let us eat any of the candy until after he had taken it all down to the station to be x-rayed. I'm pretty sure he ate all of our Reeses."

In the picture, mini-Shawn and mini-Gus are dressed as a police officer and Lando Calrissian respectively, both of them grinning broadly. It's so unbearably adorable that Lassiter has to look away after a moment.

"Shawn really wanted to dress up as Han Solo that year, but Mr. Spencer…he always wanted so much for Shawn to be a cop, and Shawn didn't want to disappoint him".

Lassiter understands that "then" is the unspoken word at the end of the sentence, that eight-year-old Shawn might not have wanted to disappoint his father, but that over the next twenty years he would take it on as a sort of competitive sport, always trying to top himself.

"Where is Sp- Shawn?" he asks, feeling awkward.

Guster doesn't seem to notice. "He's gone," he says shortly, replacing the picture and wandering over to look out the window.

Lassiter frowns. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I mean gone. He left town. I don't know where he's headed; I don't think he knows himself. "

"But…" Lassiter feels a little sick at the realization of what Gus is saying "When's he coming back?"

"He's not" Gus replies, then amends "Well, he's not coming back any time soon, I don't think. I know…" Gus falters, then rallies "I know he'll be back to visit, at least."

Lassiter sits down on the edge of the bed to absorb this news, feeling more shocked than he ever thought he might at this announcement. "But what about O'Hara?" he asks, and he almost doesn't recognize the bewildered voice as his own.

Guster turns to look at him now, his arms crossed across his chest. "They broke up last night."

"WHAT?" A tiny, faraway part of Lassiter's mind tells him that he must sound ridiculous, but he doesn't think he could be more stunned if Guster had turned around and sucker-punched him. "Why would they break up the night before his father's funeral?"

Guster looks distinctly uncomfortable now. "Look, it's not my place to say. You'll have to ask Juliet about what happened. You ishould/i ask her. I know she could use a friend right now."

"What about Psych? What will you do?"

"As of today, Psych is out of business. There are only a couple of months left on the lease. I'll pay it off and close the office."

Guster had been doing well up until now, but at this declaration he sounds like he might cry. Lassiter can't blame him; he feels a little like crying himself, which is the opposite of any reaction he ever thought he would have to the news that the absurd psychic detective agency was finally out of his life.

"Jesus," he breathes out slowly, absorbing the shock. He looks up at the other man, who in one fell swoop has just lost his best friend, his business, and a father figure that he's known all his life. "I'm sorry."

Gus shrugs, tries for casual and doesn't quite pull it off. "I've always known Shawn might leave.

I got comfortable after a couple of years, thinking he was here for good, but this is the way he's always been. I guess I'm just surprised it took this long, but I'm not surprised that it happened now. He's mad at Henry for not realizing that his friends were crooks, and he'll never forgive himself for not figuring it out fast enough to save his dad. Shawn is…he doesn't know how to deal with all the anger he's feeling right now. Leaving is how he copes. "
Lassiter looks down, unsure of how to respond to this. Gus shakes himself, seems to pull himself together.

"I should go downstairs and check on the food, make sure everyone's okay. I've been up here too long."

Lassiter stands, hesitates a moment before speaking, because he almost can't believe he's saying this, but at the same time it feels like the right thing to do.

"You should be proud, you know. You and Shawn did a lot of good work. I mean, it was all completely ridiculous," he scowls, so Guster will know he's serious, "and I thought about arresting you both myself dozens of times, but you did assist in putting a lot of criminals behind bars. You should be proud of that."

He hesitates again, and then sticks his hand out. Gus looks at it for a moment like he's not sure what to do, then slowly reaches out to shake it.

"Thank you, Detective Lassiter," he says. "It's…it's been a real honor." And then he's gone, out of the room and down the stairs, to be Shawn's proxy in taking care of the responsibilities that Shawn has left behind.

Lassiter spends the rest of the afternoon at the police station, which is running on a minimal staff due to Henry's funeral. He's just finished catching up on typing up reports when he remembers that he had turned his phone off that morning before the service began. Turning it on now, he sees he has one voicemail from Spencer. For some reason that he doesn't want to examine too closely seeing that he has a message from Shawn makes his heart stop for a minute. He gets up and leaves the noisy bullpen area of the station, rationalizing to himself that he needs a quieter spot in order to properly listen to the message, and finds himself in a file room empty of other personnel. When he plays the message, the first thing he's struck by is the tension in Spencer's voice.

"Hey, Lassie. By the time you listen to this, you'll probably already know that I'm giving up the psychic biz and leaving town. Congratulations, I'm finally out of your hair! Try to wait at least 24 hours before throwing the celebratory party. Um, anyway, I just wanted to ask you to look after Jules for a little while. I mean, you and I both know she can take care of herself and kick both our asses, but …" and here, Shawn's voice catches, almost like he's holding back tears "I really fucked up with her, Lassie. You were right – I know you love it when I say that – to not want her involved with me. Anyway. Just remind her that I'm not worth brooding over, okay? I know I can count on you for that. And Lassie?" The next bit is said quickly, like Shawn was embarrassed to be saying it "I'm really going to miss you. You're a great cop, just trust your instincts, and be careful. I'll never forgive you if you get shot. Later, man."

Lassiter winces at the reference to being shot, thinking of Henry, and saves the message so he can listen to it again when he's home and has time to think about things.

O'Hara is back at work the next day. There are circles under her eyes the likes of which Lassiter has never seen before, not even in the days after Yin dangled her off the top of the clock tower.

He gives her his customary gruff "Good morning" to which she responds with a nod, and after that he's not sure how to proceed. He tries to engage her in conversation about a couple of the cases they're working on, but she only responds in monosyllables and barely seems to be listening. This much silence from his usually vivacious partner is unnerving. After two awkward hours, Lassiter stands up and gestures for her to follow his lead.

"Come on, O'Hara, we're going to lunch."

She looks up at him, confused. "It's 10 o'clock in the morning, Carlton."

"Fine. Then we're going to breakfast. Come on."

She looks pained, knowing where this is leading, but she gets her purse out of her desk and follows him out the door.

They don't talk again until they're seated in a corner booth at IHOP, where Lassiter takes them because he figures pancakes will be necessary for this conversation. Fiddling with his coffee cup and a sugar packet, he meets her eyes and says "O'Hara, tell me what's going on."

She looks away from his gaze, remains silent.

He tries again. "O'Hara. iJuliet/i."

The use of her first name at least has her looking at him again. "You know I'm terrible at this touchy-feely crap, but I'm worried about you. Will you please just tell me what happened between you and Spencer?"

Her lips tighten and she looks away again. "We broke up. I don't know what else to tell you, Carlton."

"I already knew you two had split up. Even if Guster hadn't told me yesterday, the look on your face today would have clued me in. But, the night before Henry's funeral? What happened, O'Hara?"

Juliet sighs, some of her resolve seeming to drain out of her. "He told me something that…upset me. A lot. It was something I just couldn't handle, Carlton. I still can't handle it." Suddenly, distressingly, her eyes are filled with tears. "I don't even know how you can stand to be partnered with me. I'm such an idiot."

"iHey!/i Don't say that. You're the smartest person I know. What could he possibly have told you that would make you…"

He trails off, because with a certainty like a puzzle piece clicking into place he knows what happened. He leans back in the booth and stares at her.

"He told you, didn't he? He told you how he does it. How he solves all the cases. Psychic ability my ass!" The surge of triumph at having six years of suspicions confirmed is short-lived at the expression on her face.

"I can't talk about this, Carlton. It's better if we pretend that nothing has changed" she lowers her voice. "I don't want to do anything that could endanger any convictions we got from cases he assisted with."

Lassiter shrugs. "Most of the time he got them to confess to everything short of stealing lunch money in the third grade, so I'm not sure any appeals in those cases would have a leg to stand on, but I get your point."

Their pancakes arrive, and for a few minutes they both busy themselves with syrup and butter and coffee refills. After she's had a few bites, Juliet pushes away her plate.

"He played me for a fool. I can't believe how naïve I was."

"NO. Juliet, he had everyone fooled. Do you think Chief Vick is naive? She didn't get to where she is by trusting in conmen. And dammit, as much as I hate to admit it, he solved cases. After seeing him close case after case, why would you not believe him?"

"You never did," she says quietly.

Lassiter takes a deep breath. "No. Well, mostly no. I mean, a frigging idinosaur/i? I've been trying to figure out for years how he knew that."

Juliet almost smiles at that, and Lassiter relaxes a little.

"It's not that I never suspected. I'm not completely gullible, you know. I even thought that if he ever confessed that it wasn't true that I would be able to accept it, move on. What he does is…" she heaves out a sigh of frustration "it's pretty fucking impressive, Carlton. But when the time came, all I could think was that I was just like my mother, falling for a conman who could lie to my face every day. I don't want to go through my life wondering how often I'm being lied to by someone I'm supposed to trust. Looking back over the past couple of years, I don't even know anymore what was real."

Lassiter wishes he were the kind of person who was good at comforting others, but he's been told often enough, sometimes by O'Hara herself, that he sucks at that sort of thing. Still, he gives it his best shot.

"Look, I'm not interested in defending Spencer. I think you're entitled to every bit of your anger and more. I will say though, that while he lied about his 'abilities', I don't think he ever lied about how he felt about you, O'Hara. I think – no, I KNOW – that was real. I saw how he looked at you. The only thing you're guilty of is trusting someone you loved, who loved you back. I can't believe that makes you foolish or naïve."

"Didn't you once tell me that all romance ends in either death or despair? I should have listened to you then."

"Yeah, well, you'll know to listen to me from now on." He throws some money on the table and stands up "All right, we have work to do. Carp has a hearing tomorrow and we owe it to Henry to make sure that we have an airtight case against him."

O'Hara gets up to follow him. "God, iHenry/i. How can I be so wrapped up in my boyfriend drama that I can't focus on what happened to Henry?"

"I don't know about you, but I have trouble thinking about it too closely," Lassiter admits. "That he was betrayed by his own partner, by the guys he worked with on the force…so help me O'Hara, I would sooner eat my own gun than iever/i…"

"Don't say that!" she snaps "…but I know. Me too. I don't understand how anything like this could happen. Over money? Just thinking about it makes me feel sick, and knowing that Henry's last thoughts were to realize how badly he had been deceived by the people he should have been able to trust most in the world…"

"We'll nail this bastard to the wall." Lassiter shrugs helplessly "It's not enough, but it's the only thing we can do."

He's just pulled into his parking space at the station when she turns to him and says "Aren't you going to ask me how Shawn does it? How he pulled off the psychic act for so long?"

Lassiter turns to look at her, as sure about this as he's ever been about anything.

"Don't you dare tell me anything, O'Hara. He owes me that explanation himself. I'll get it out of him the next time I see him."