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“I told you, Shawn, I’m not coming.”
“Come on, Gus, don’t be ridiculous. What else could you possibly be planning to do?”
“I’m being serious. My family does this thing where we meet up once a month and everyone who is in town needs to come. Everyone. That includes me.”
“But nobody knows you are in town, Gus. Just pretend you are not.”
“Shawn, I live here. My parents know that. Plus, my Uncle Burton will be there and I need to try to make an impression.”
“Alright, fine! But I warned you.”
“Warned me about what?”
“You’re gonna miss out on one absolutely fantastic night.”
“You said that last week already.”
“And…?”
“And you talked to some girl the whole time and ignored me completely.”
“Gus, don’t be the little paper clip figure from Microsoft Word. I didn’t ignore you completely. I thought of you the whole time. In the back of my mind. Right here.” Shawn points with two fingers to the back of his head.
“Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“Stop doing that with your hand. It looks idiodic.”
“Should I rather sing a little ballad about how you never leave my mind when I’m talking to another person?”
“Shawn, I got it. You didn’t ignore me completely. But it still wasn’t ‘absolutely fantastic’,” Gus says, using air quotes.
“Urgh, fine, you go to your favorite uncle and I’ll have some fun.”
“You know very well that Burton is not my favorite uncle, I’d just like a little bit of respect from him.”
“Fine, do that.”
“I will. I will earn his respect. Maybe not tonight. But one day I will.”
“See you later, Gus.”
Shawn is fully aware that he does not need Gus to have fun, but it is easier if he is around. He does not feel like going to a bar that he has been to many times, so it takes him quite a bit until he settles for some kind of night club; Shawn is not sure what it actually is. He sits down at a small table for two not too far away but not too close to the stage, where, he supposes, at some point dancers will appear, and orders a drink. Then he leans back, relaxes, and looks around. It is not too crowded yet, since it is still relatively early. He does not feel like talking to strangers yet, so he plays his dad’s game, minus the dad. Shawn closes his eyes and starts walking around the room with his memory. There is a group of young ladies for whom apparently this is not their first stop this night. A middle aged man who weirdly resembles Shawn’s new ‘colleague’ Carlton Lassiter (but Shawn is certain that it is not said detective). Four too young boys (Shawn saw one of their fake IDs). A bachelor’s party. A couple of people who do not fit together and he assumes that they are strangers who just happen to be dancing in the same area. Behind the bar is a man and two women, the man and one of the women blonde, the other brunette. The man was about to give someone a drink, from the looks of it a beer. His mind keeps wandering. A couple more people dancing, some sitting at tables by themselves like he does, some sitting in groups.
The song that was playing fades out. Shawn slowly opens his eyes again, but they need a couple of seconds until they can actually see again, because the lights are too bright. But then he sees them. Or, to say it better, he sees her. A lesser person probably would not even realize her. Any other person’s eyes would be drawn to the front dancers of the group of female dancers that have entered the stage. But he only has eyes for the one on the far left of the last row. Shawn is sure that all of them do the choreography perfectly, but that particular dancer’s moves look so graceful, so effortless, he could not take his eyes off her. That’s when he realized that her eyes have found him as well. They lock eyes and while she keeps on doing the choreography perfectly, her mind seems to be somewhere else. Somewhere in Shawn’s eyes.
The song comes to an end and the dancers land in their final pose before leaving the stage under applause. Shawn shakes his head in order to escape the trance he found himself in. What was that? A blonde angel - no, that is too cliche. She is blonde, so much is true. She seems also to be an angel, there is no other explanation for her beauty. But he does not like the sound of the combination of those two words. He can figure out another term.
But while just a few minutes before he thought he would leave soon and look for another place, he now is certain he will spend the rest of the night here, in hope to see her again. He stands up to get another drink from the bar. It does not take him long but when he turns around to go back to his table, he sees the unmistakable back of the head of said angel, standing right next to said table. Her posture lets him know that she is feeling some sort of disappointment, that remains when she starts looking around the room with a stretched neck and on tiptoes. It looks too cute. Partly because of her general appearance, still in her dancing costume, partly because of her height, which is the reason that even though she stands on tiptoes she barely can see any further. It seems that she is just about to give up, what- or whoever she is looking for, when her eyes lock once again with his. And that is when he realizes that he is the one she was looking for. Not only does her body not scream “Disappointed!” anymore but a bright smile appears on her face.
Just to make sure it is really him she is looking at, he turns around to see that there is in fact not another person behind him that happens to be taller than him. But he finds nothing and nobody there except for a bar and bartenders who are busy serving drinks and small snacks. He turns back around and points with his index finger and a questioning look on his face at himself. The angel (Shawn settles for only one part of the unpleasant combination) nods excitedly. So he walks towards her, wondering what exactly about him made her that excited. Was it the flawless styled hair? His often, by ex-girlfriends, pointed out eyes? His jaw? Or maybe it was just her way to start a ‘Don’t stare at me like that again, it’s creepy’-conversation. He should not get his hopes up too high.
“Hi,” he starts.
“Hi,” she replies in a similar volume and way.
A moment passes, then “Would you like to sit down at my table?” - “I’d like that,” and they sit down.
“Would you like a drink? I can get you something?”
“That’s really kind of you but I need to get back on stage in a few minutes and it wouldn’t be too pleasant if I had to think of going to the toilet the whole time.” She laughs. Beautifully. Shawn adds that to his mental list of things that are beautiful about her.
“Speaking of which. The dancing, it was just immaculate.”
“Oh, please, it was not that good. I think I missed a couple of steps.”
“No, really. You looked like one of those background dancers in movies about dancers who sacrifice, like, everything to get on the top. Except those are only the ones at the front. The background dancers are always those who have real talent and deserve to be in the front. But of course only the mean ones are those who reach the goal.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“That definitely is a compliment.”
“But Sam and Lucy and the others are actually really nice. Nothing mean about them.”
“That’s nice.” Shawn smiles. They sit for a moment in comfortable silence.
“Listen, bar guy-”
“Shawn”
“Shawn. I need to go and get ready for another dance performance. But I’d like to come back afterwards and talk a little more, if that’s okay with you?”
“That’s perfectly fine. I’d love to talk more.”
“Alright then, see you.” And with that, the angel disappears into the crowd.
In Shawn’s eyes it looks exactly like the first choreography, but Angel makes it somehow look different. This time, her blue eyes look not at only him, her view wanders around the room and settles on different spots. But Shawn likes to think that she looks at him a little bit longer.
The music turns quieter and quieter and people applaud once again. He watches as the dancers leave the stage, then almost counts the seconds until he sees her walking towards him again. It takes a little longer than he expected but considering she changed from her costume to normal clothes, now carrying a handbag, it was still quicker than he could ever be. Apparently, his admiration for that aspect, or her in general, is written on his face.
“What?”, she asks, only a little self-conscious. “Oh my god, did you really see that terrible mistake I made right before the end? I thought I covered that up so nicely!”
“No! Don’t worry, I’m mistake-blind. I only see the good in people. Except when I’m not.”
“That was a nicely formulated sentence, well done.”
“What are you, a grammar cop?” Shawn laughs at his own joke, but the beautiful dancer only looks at him in confusion. “Come on, Angel, that was funny.”
“Angel?” The woman does not look upset or angry, rather confused and maybe a little bit flattered.
“Oh, shit, did I say that out loud?”
“I’m afraid so.” Now she laughs.
“Alright, you deserve an explanation.” Shawn makes a move with his hand to indicate for her to sit down. “I was looking for a nickname for you in my mind, and that’s what it came up with. Not my fault. I couldn’t refer to you as The beautiful stranger any longer and since I don’t know your real name, I gave you one.”
“Right.” She looks a bit ashamed. “I forgot. It’s Juliet,” she continues, more quiet than usual.
“What?” Shawn calls. “You need to speak up, I think the music just got louder!”
“It’s Juliet!” She repeats louder.
“Thank you. Actually, I did hear you the first time. I just wanted to hear you say it again. And I don’t actually believe that the music got louder, you just quieter.”
“You know what, Shawn? I will let that trick slip, just because you are actually clever.”
“Thank you, Juliet.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Don’t overuse that name tonight.”
“Oh, you don't like your name?” Shawn did and his mind already started to come up with quite some nicknames.
“No! It's not that,” Juliet seems to think for a second. “But I can't tell you the reason at the moment. Maybe I can later, when I know more about you, who you are, when I know I can trust you.”
Shawn considers that for a moment. That is valid reasoning why she does not tell him more. They barely know each other. Almost not at all. So he smiles.
“Alright. What do you want to know?”
She leans forward, resting her head on her hands. “Okay, soo… Are you from here?”
Shawn hates that question. But she deserves an answer. “I am. But I've moved around the country a lot. For most of my life I haven't spent more than a month in the same place.”
“But now you're back?”
“Yeah. It just happened.”
“What have you done all those years, work-wise?”
“Everything and nothing. I tried so many things, so many jobs, but I couldn't care less about them all. They were so boring already after a week or so, it was always the same. But I think now, I have found something I can see myself doing for longer than a month. Much longer.”
“What is it?”
“I work as a psychic detective with the SBPD.”
Something about that information makes her face react. And even though Shawn is certain he can read almost everyone's face, this woman’s is not one of them.
“What?” he asks instead. “Don't laugh. I only started two weeks ago and already solved three cases. I'd say that's something.”
“No!” she says, stretching the ‘o’ and placing a soothing hand on his arm. “I didn't think it's nothing. It's just that I didn't expect you to work with the police, that's all. You don't seem like that kind of guy.”
“Well, you're not completely off.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “My father was a cop. And all my life, for as long as I can think, he trained me to become one as well. I think he wanted me to have the opportunities and chances he didn't have or didn't take.” Shawn does not know why he tells her all that. He does not like opening up about himself, it makes him feel vulnerable. But something about Juliet makes her trustable. Like he could tell her anything and it is safe with her.
As if she could read his mind, she asks, “Why are you telling me all this? I mean, I love listening to the things you say, but why do you trust me so easily? For all you know, I could be a prostitute who happens to have a job as a dancer or something.”
“No, you couldn’t. I’d sense that. Remember, psychic. Also, why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?”
Juliet tilts her head a little, thinking. “I’m not sure, it just happened.”
Shawn hums, to signal that the answer was satisfying. The conversation falls comfortably quiet. Normally, he would assume that his speaking partner would soon leave, but Juliet does not look as though she would leave this table anytime soon. So he gazes through the room, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. But especially in those moments when you do not expect anything to happen, when you are not prepared, it happens.
A young woman walks into the room, completely dressed in black leather, black hair that is so obviously a wig, and a black cloth over half of her face. A normal human reaction in such a situation spreads through the room. People scream, trying to get as much space between themselves and the woman, because even Shawn has to admit that this sight is a bit terrifying if not used to. His eyes are fixated on the woman who, to his and probably everyone else's surprise, just stands there with a baseball bat, doing nothing. Shawn focuses now on only her eyes in hopes to find any plan of hers in them.
Without turning her head she looks around the room, seemingly searching for something. Then, it seems as though she found what she was looking for - him. She is looking directly at him. Or so it seems. Looking closely, he realizes that she looks slightly to his right. The woman is not looking at him. She is looking at Juliet.
And she walks right towards her. Shawn’s mind is racing. Aside from the fact that he now knows where she is going, he cannot read her at all. No signs for a reason for her actions. He must be missing something. But there is no time, no matter how fast and intense he looks and observes and listens, his “senses” do not receive any signals. Time’s up, the woman reaches their table, lifts the bat and-
Before Shawn can overthink it, he stands up, right between the woman and Juliet.
“What are you doing?” Juliet hisses from behind him. Yes, what is he doing exactly? Shawn does not know. He just followed his instinct and now he is staring at the woman, who is staring back, lowering the bat, probably not expecting someone to stand in her way.
“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully, looking over his shoulder. A mistake. In these few seconds he is not looking, the woman lifts the bat again.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she says, hitting Shawn with the bat in the stomach on “Get” and “Way”.
Unexpected as it was, Shawn lets out a huff, feeling the air leave his body. He tries to convince himself that, under other circumstances, he would compose himself quickly enough to interfere again. But now he just crumbles to the ground, wincing slightly.
“You!” The leather-wearing woman now points with the bat at Juliet; Shawn flinches for a second. “You stole my spot!”
Juliet looks as confused as Shawn feels. “I’m sorry, I did what?”
“You stole my spot!”
“What spot?”
“My dancing spot? The one you've been dancing for the past two days?”
“I did no such thing! I auditioned like anyone else would've. The spot was free.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm not.”
Shawn feels well enough again to slowly get up again - not only to find his balance again, but also to not startle the woman.
“What do you want?” Juliet asks.
“I want my spot back.”
“And you really think that's the way?” Shawn interferes.
“You again.”
“Yes, I again. Do you really think that's the way to earn your spot back?” he repeats. “I mean there is probably a very plausible explanation for why you lost it-”
“She took it.”
“Really? ‘Cause it seems like this” - he points at the bat - “might have something to do with that. Or violence in general. I'd say you tried to beat your way to the front row. You couldn't stand not being in the spotlight - hence this show right now - so you used violence. The director, of course, couldn't let that behavior pass, so he - or she or it or they - fired you quietly in order to not get bad publicity. I also think this isn't the first dancing spot you tried this. But of course, this is just a wild guess. Correct me if I'm wrong.”
The woman turns to Shawn. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“That's funny, I was about to ask you the same question.”
“No, really. What is your fucking problem?”
“My primary problem right now is that you are standing here.”
“Shawn” Juliet hisses.
“What? Just telling the truth. I was really looking forward to talking to her for the rest of the night, but that's not gonna happen with you standing here.” The look the woman gives him is slightly terrifying but Shawn keeps going. “Another problem of mine is that I can't see your face. I don't even know what you look like. Are you ashamed of your face? Are you afraid someone might recognize you? I'm sure others of the dancers are still here as well. I can't tell since I only know her face. But if they are here, then they know who you are without seeing your face. You told all of us who you are. We just don't know a name. So you might as well take off that stupid cloth. It makes you look like a wannabe-crook from the Wild West.”
“I'm not a wannabe-crook!”
“No, obviously not. You're not from the Wild West either. But it makes you look like a wannabe-crook. You are a real crook. In some sense. Walking in here with a bat, beating me, threatening her. That is real. All of it. That's not wannabe anymore. You are doing this for real. Are you aware of that?”
“Of course. It's not like I'm doing this for the first time.” And with that she takes the cloth off.
Shawn backs off. Just a little bit, but he backs off. The lower part of the woman's face is completely covered in a million little scars. Rather fresh scars.
“Whoah!” It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
“What? What is it?” Juliet, who only sees the back of the woman, asks.
“A big ass scar. Actually, no. A lot of tiny ass scars.”
“Shawn…”
“Come over here. See for yourself.”
So Juliet walks around the woman, placing herself next to Shawn. “Okay, what's the story here? And make it short or I might find a way to call the cops.”
“There's no story. I met some people I probably shouldn't have met, got into the wrong business, now I have this.” She gestures to her face.
“Okay, but do you really expect to get back into dancing with that look?” Shawn asks.
“I need it. Otherwise I'll continue this. And I really don't want to.”
“Can I give you an advice to go in the right direction? Don't hit people with baseball bats. And, if you even want to go a step further, don't walk around with baseball bats, so you don't even have the opportunity to hit anyone.”
The woman smiles sarcastically at him. “Great advise. As if I hadn't thought of that myself. Those people, those I talked about, made me do this.”
“Made you? Like they put a bat into your hand and pushed you in here?”
“They blackmailed me.”
“Okay, here's another question: Why are you telling us all this?”
She hesitates. “I need someone to help me. And you seem trustable.”
Shawn can only agree with that, as he just told Juliet a part of his life after knowing her for about a quarter hour. But he still can't help but laugh. “You are funny. You need someone to help you and your way of doing that is by attacking us?”
“Well…”
But the woman can't speak any longer, as in that moment a group of uniforms and one normally-clothed man appear in the room, walking through the divide the people made when the woman walked in.
“SBPD! Drop your weapon!”
And the woman does as she is told.
“Lassie! Good to see you. Could have dropped by a little sooner.” Detective Lassiter gives Shawn a look that says as much as ‘Why the hell is he everywhere I need to go?’.
“Lassiter, thank you. Take her, I'll be right behind you. She already told me a few things.”
“She did? Good work, O'Hara.”
“Well, actually, Shawn here…”
“I'll see you at the station.” And with that he guides the woman out, taking the bat with him.
Shawn turns to Juliet. “Lassiter? O’Hara?” he asks, seemingly amused. “You guys know each other?”
“You know I didn't tell you the whole truth when I introduced myself.”
Shawn can remember very well how she told him that she can't tell him more until she knows him better, until she knows she can trust him. “Yes…”
“I am a cop. Not a grammar cop. A real one. A detective with the SBPD. And currently undercover. Well, not anymore apparently.”
“But… but I work with the SBPD as well… and I have never seen you before. I so definitely would know if I saw you before.”
“I just transferred. This is my first case.”
“Ever?”
“As a detective.”
“First case as a detective and they send you undercover?”
“I was surprised, too. But I like it.”
“I like it, too,” and then “So… we’re colleagues then?”
“Seems so.” She smiles.
“And you did indeed find a way to call the cops?”
“She turned her back to me for quite some time. Long enough to send Lassiter a text message.”
“That’s clever. But also kind of risky. She could have turned around any second and what would have happened then?”
“Well, that’s my job and it involves taking a risk at times.” They pause for a moment. “Shawn… as much as I would love to talk to you for the rest of the night, I should get going. Lassiter's waiting. But I suppose we'll see each other soon. And often. So, I'm looking forward to that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Juliet already starts to walk towards the exit, when she turns around again. “You know, I'm really glad you were here tonight. For many reasons. But I have never been in such a situation. Let alone without my badge or weapon. I'm not as good with words as you are. I don't think I could have talked her out of it. Not as well and effectively as you did.”
“Absolutely not a problem.” Shawn offers her a smile and a nod. Then she turns around again, walking towards the exit.
Shawn sighs, placing his hand on his stomach and sitting down.
“Nevermind, Lassiter can wait a little longer. How are you?” Only then she sees him. “Okay, bad question. Where and how does it hurt?”
“I'm fine,” he murmurs, although he is so clearly not fine. Juliet just gives him a look. “Okay, fine, I'm not. But I can't tell you where it hurts.”
Now it is her turn to sign. She lays her head in her neck and takes a deep breath. “You shouldn't have gotten up so quickly.” She takes another deep breath, clearly thinking. “Alright, Lassiter can wait. This is more urgent. Come with me.”
“No, you need to get to the station. I can take care of myself.”
“No.” And this ‘No’ is so firm that even Shawn does not dare to disagree. Juliet places her arm around his shoulders to gently guide him out.
“Jules, it’s okay, I can walk on my own.”
“I don’t trust you,” she replies, ignoring the nickname.
“But you told me what you were really doing here tonight, that means, you must trust me.”
She sighs. “I don’t trust you with yourself. I obviously just met you, but I already know you make stupid decisions when it comes to your own health.”
“They aren't always stupid. Sometimes I make them to help others.”
They reach her car. “Get in here.”
Shawn points at it. “This is your car?”
“Yes. Something wrong with it?”
“No, absolutely not!” A pause. “It's just super cute.” Silently, he added, “Just like you.”
“It's just a car.” But he can see that she agrees with him. “And now get in.”
In no time they reach the hospital. They barely spoke on their way; Shawn was too preoccupied with his thoughts, most of them related to Juliet, and god knows what was on her mind.
“Okay. So. I can't wait with you, I really need to get back to the station. But here's my number. Call me if you need any help here. I hope it's nothing too bad, and honestly I don't think it is. But it's better to be checked out. Do you think you can go alone in there?”
Shawn smiles. She cares too much for her own good. “Jules, I'll be fine. Go do your thing, I'll be with you in no time.” And with that he takes the note with her phone number from her stretched out hand, smiles again, and gets out of the car.
“Come to the station when you're done here,” she calls after him through the open window as he already walks towards the building. He responds with a thumb up over his shoulder.
Mere five hours later Shawn leaves the emergency room again. He thinks about calling Gus to pick him up but decides against it. It is 4 am after all and Gus probably used all his energy arguing with his family. He could walk twenty minutes.
About five minutes in, he remembers Juliets's last words. He does not suppose that Lassie and she are still at the station. Again, it is 4 am. But Juliet asked him to and in case they are still there, he doesn't want to worry her. Besides, it is only a little bit further, so he changes his direction just a tiny bit.
He reaches the station at 4:25 am. Lights shine through the windows of the precinct but that does not surprise Shawn. He enters, looking around if he can see or hear any familiar faces or voices. Not until he reaches the bullpen. But even then he only sees her back. Slumped down, her head laying on her arms, resting on the desk. Slow and regular breaths.
He slowly walks up to her, trying not to startle her. The closer he gets the more certain he gets that she is sleeping. The officers around her seem not to notice or not care. Shawn carefully places a hand on her back. “Juliet,” he whispers.
Despite his effort, she jumps at the sound of his voice. “Shawn!” she calls out when she realizes who it is that is waking her. “What are you doing here?”
Shawn looks confused. “You said I should come here when I’m done at the hospital.”
She yawns. “Right. Of course.”
“But I was about to ask you the same question. What are you doing here? Don’t you have to work? Where’s Lassie?”
“We wrapped up work hours ago. Lassiter went home, Beatrice Bong in the holding cell.”
“Beatrice Bong? Really? That’s her name?” But then more seriously: “Then what are you still doing here? You could be in bed for hours. That would be way more comfortable than sleeping on your desk. I know that. Been there, done that. Well, not on your desk, obviously. But I suppose mine is not that different.” He probably would go on and on if he did not see the expression on her face. “What?”
“I waited for you. It was ill-considered, asking you to come here. None of us knew how long yours would take, nor how long ours would take. We were done around 1 am. I considered looking for you. But you might have been on your way here already and we would have missed each other. So, staying here was the best option.”
“Why were you so sure I’d come here?”
“I asked you to, you agreed - albeit non-verbal - and I trust you to keep your word. As much as I trust you to tell me the truth when I ask you now what the doctor said and how you feel.”
Shawn smiles. “She said it’s not too bad, only bruised. It probably only started to hurt after Beatrice Bong was guided away, when my concentration faded away. She gave me some pain killers, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“Really. Just exhausted. You and I, we both need to sleep.”
Juliet laughs. “I couldn’t agree more!” She gets up, stretches, gets her jacket, and follows Shawn outside.
“What a night.” They are standing outside the precinct, taking in the fresh night air.
“Maybe it’s a good thing Gus didn’t come along, I wouldn’t have talked to you.”
“Who’s Gus?”
“My best friend. And Psych co-worker. You’ll meet him soon.”
Juliet hums contentedly. “So, how did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“You walked here from the hospital?” Shawn nods. “That’s what I meant when I said I don’t trust you with yourself, and that you make stupid decisions about your health. You should have called me.”
“But you could have been in the middle of an important interrogation.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“No, but you were asleep. I would have woken you.”
“You did anyway.”
“Fine. I was irresponsible. Not the first time in my life I’m hearing that and most certainly not the last time.”
Juliet sighs. She feels like she is going to do that a lot when it comes to Shawn. But she also feels like it will be worth it. “Alright. Where do you live?”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m not going to let you walk home. So, come with me.”
“How do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”
“How do you know a detective is not trying to kidnap you? Is that a serious question?”
Shawn shakes his head. “No. It was a joke. Maybe I’m too tired to make jokes that land.”
“Or maybe I’m too tired to get them. It doesn’t have to be you.”
Shawn looks at her. Maybe a little too long and maybe a little intense. But he does not care. She is too beautiful not to look at her. Too good-hearted. Too lovely. Too caring. He is sure that over time he will find out a lot more things about her. He is also sure that it will not always be easy spending time with her, seeing how much he already adores and cares for her. But he will do his best to have the best relationship with her - whatever kind it is that she wants. Because he could never disrespect her or her feelings. Because he could never lose her.
She clears her throat. “Are you coming?”
And so he follows her down the stairs to her cute little car.