Work Text:
Carlton Lassiter stood alone in the waiting area of Santa Barbara airport, shifting from foot to foot on the threadbare carpet in a rare sign of nerves. As a police officer, he prided himself on his steadiness and he hated the fact that the position he now found himself in
Two years into their marriage and the Lassiters were becoming parents. Not as one might expect. Victoria wasn’t pregnant, something her father held solely against Carlton. (Not that the man particularly wanted Carlton to impregnate his precious daughter; such long-term biological tie wasn’t something Irving Parker wanted.)
‘Juliet O’Hara’ the slightly crumpled cardboard sign in his hands read. The name was written in elaborate purple letters but there was no other embellishment for the girl. She was a long-lost cousin of Carlton’s, the daughter of his aunt’s niece or some such distant relation. She had, in fact, only come to their attention after being tracked down by the Department of Children and Families. Juliet’s parents had been killed in a car accident down in Florida, a typical crash in Miami, Florida, that had turned deadly.
They’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thankfully, Juliet had escaped with a few scratches and a broken arm.
The passengers from Florida began to depart their flight, Carlton looking for a tow-headed teenager in the crowd. A picture of the girl burned a hole in his pocket, long memorized by the police sergeant. The teenager that appeared, accompanied by a no-nonsense, stern looking woman in a rumpled suit, was not smiling as she was in the picture. Instead, her mouth was downturned, a frown that sat uneasily on her mouth; blonde hair was unkempt; clothes too large for her frame.
The pair stopped in front of him, the woman raising her hand to shake. “Carlton Lassiter? My name is Dawn Bering. This is Juliet O’Hara.”
“I don’t know who he is,” Juliet muttered, refusing to look at him as Carlton handed the woman the paperwork he had been told he needed to take custody.
“This is your cousin, Juliet,” the tired voice spoke of many similar conversations. The paperwork was handed back to Carlton and the woman shouldered her bag. “Everything seems to be in order.” An automatic lunch invitation was declined, Dawn disappearing into the crowd.
Carlton was equal parts pleased he wouldn’t have to make small talk and horrified that he was now responsible for a sullen, grieving teenage girl.
“We should head home,” he finally said for lack of anything else.
“My home is Miami,” she answered sharply, clutching the backpack strap.
“Your temporary home, for now. At least until you reach the ripe old age of 18.” He could understand why Dawn Bering had sounded so tired; he could already feel a headache settling behind his eyes.
“Not a second longer,” Juliet muttered as she shouldered past Carlton and made her way towards the exit. He hurried after her, knowing the teenager had no idea where she was actually going (beyond getting away from him.)
Juliet eyed the nondescript sedan warily, huffing when Carlton promised he was a safe driver. Without another word, she settled in the passenger seat, her bag tucked at her feet. She glared again when he reminded her to belt up.
“Victoria is excited to meet you,” he finally said as he turned out of the airport, frowning at the congested traffic. He’d have loved to turn on the siren and use it to get through quicker, but deemed the possibility of future problems related to abuse of power too likely.
(He had a hard-ass detective riding his coattails every day he was at the station and the older man just seemed to know whatever happened, even when he wasn’t present.)
“Great,” Juliet muttered beneath her breath.
“She would’ve liked to have been here but didn’t want to overwhelm you. She decided to stay home and cook dinner.” Carlton chuckled slightly, more to himself than anything, “Try to cook dinner,” he amended. “She’s not the best cook,” he confided lowly.
“I don’t care,” Juliet answered airily, blue eyes gazing at the slowly passing scenery.
Carlton had always despised making small talk. It was something that had made Victoria Parker the perfect woman for him; she felt much the same but had at least been well-trained to deal with social situations. He’d always been largely solitary, even as a child; why seek people out and make unimportant chitchat when he could be involved with something much more important?
“I know you don’t want to be here,” he told the teenager lowly.
“Gee, what makes you think that?”
Swallowing the urge to snap at her insolence, he grit his teeth. “I wish you didn't have to be here either,” he continued, ignoring or unaware of how it sounded to her. Blue eyes met blue for a brief moment. “Neither of us are getting what we want. The best we can do is deal with it.”
There was an indistinct grumble that may have been an agreement from the passenger seat.
“You’ll be going to Leland Bosseigh High. It’s supposed to be good; one of the detectives in my unit sends his son there,” he continued.
“Just what I always wanted: a babysitter. Great.”
“Not a babysitter, just… support, if you want it. The kid’s name is Shawn Spencer.”
Juliet sighed and shook her head.
“I’ll see if I can arrange a meeting before your first day; it’d be good if there’s a familiar face.” At least, that was what Victoria had tools him when she mentioned the possibility.
“Whatever.” The sedan came to a stop and she looked out at the cookie cutter single story that she was expected to spend the next few years living in. The street was stereotypical suburban America, not much different from the one she had lived on in Miami and she hated it suddenly, viscerally.
Carlton exited the car, frame lanky as he looked towards the front door that opened, his wife standing in the shadows. “Are you ready?”
“Do I even have a choice?” The question was rhetorical as Juliet stalked up the sidewalk, stopping for a brief greeting before being shown to her new room.
Carlton shook his head and followed her, wondering just what he’d let himself in for when he’d accepted custody of his cousin.