Disclaimer: I own nothing...

A/N: There are not many fics featuring BAMF (Bad Ass Mother F**ker) side of Lassiter... After seeing him in Criminal Minds, I was inspired to write one.

Rating is for language and description of death.

Balancing The Ledger

Cursing in blue streak while driving like a mad man, Detective Lassiter broke a more few traffic laws as he sped towards a bar owned and run by a violent biker gang.

He had received a phone call about five minutes earlier from Guster, saying he couldn't locate Shawn anywhere and thought him missing. It didn't take a genius to figure out where the brunette had wandered off to, but what really aggravated the detective, was that the pineapple loving menace hadn't taken back up to poke around.

Gritting his teeth as he cut aggressively through the busy motor way; he allowed his thoughts to fall back on the fake psychic. He had known for some time that the young man had been humouring them, but had kept his silence, simply due to the fact that the eccentric male had proven useful and at times entertaining. Not that Carlton would ever admit that aloud.

Absentmindedly he made a mental note to drop a few hints towards the psychic, about fingerprints. It was quite a hassle to get rid of the evidence of Shawn's presence that came up during forensic sweeps of crime scenes.

The head detective had called for back up, as he'd left the police department, but he knew that there was no hard evidence to link the gang of criminals to the killings. This is what had led one courageous and moronic Spencer to stupidly enter the premises of the gang. Lassiter would have been impressed by the idea, if the element of danger had been removed. It would allow the Santa Barbra police to enter the grounds without a warrant, since Spencer was a civilian as well as an asset to the task force.

Parking a few blocks away from the bar, the detective took in a deep breath to calm the adrenaline rushing through his veins. It had been a while since he had felt this way and it was invigorating. Surveying the area the raven haired man thought back on the case. He'd noticed the brutality in the killings and knew these people responsible were few but prone to acts of extreme violence. The policeman also knew that waiting for back up was going to lower the brunette's odds, despite the survival tactics Henry Spencer had taught his son. Idly he heard from the radio, that the team was ten minutes away from their destination.

He could stall the group for ten minutes.

Placing a hand on his left bicep, he recited an oath. Underneath the material of his jacket and shirt lay an old Ranger tattoo hidden from view on the mentioned forearm.

Walking towards the bar, the raven haired man switched from his police mentality to his military mentality.

This was a rescue operation.

Entering the bar, he heard the noise die almost all most instantly. Studying all the faces in the tangible hostility of the environment, he waited for them to respond. He didn't have to wait long.

"Who the fuck, are you?" One of the bikers demanded.

There was a time when Head Detective Lassiter was Master Sergeant Lassiter, a former sniper in the United States 75th Ranger Regiment, and Special Forces.

"Detective Carlton Lassiter." He answered calmly. There was an empty beer bottle on the counter and within arm's reach, if things were to turn for the worse. "I want to speak with your boss."

"Why?" Another and much larger built biker rose up. He stood quite a few inches above the good detective and pretty much towered over everyone else in the room. Unwashed straw coloured hair and beady mud brown eyes looked down on the policeman, as the suspected criminal tried to intimidate the raven haired man using his size. It would have worked on a normal detective on the force, but unfortunately for the law breaker, Lassiter was far from normal.

However; as the number of the lives he took rose by pulling that trigger, his need to leave increased as well.

"He has something of mine." The raven haired policeman maintained his bored and unimpressed look. "And I am here to collect it."

"Sorry, but he's busy." The criminal gave a lecherous grin and threw a fist at the head detectives face.

Rage rising at the double meaning of the answer, Lassiter grabbed the fist of the offender and threw a well aimed punch to the man's Adam's apple. The biker still reeling back from the blow felt himself slip into blissful unconsciousness, as the former sniper smashed his head against the bar counter.

So once he was honourably discharged from service, Carlton became a detective to atone. To balance the ledger of the lives he took with the ones he saved.

The head detective noticed that since he'd took down the largest biker in the room within seconds' the groups' confidence had been shaken. Not allowing them to regain it, he spoke again.

"The cops will be here soon. So point me in the direction of your boss and I'll put in a good word." 'As if.' Carlton knew the way these men thought, and they would do anything to save themselves. So it didn't long for him to walk to the pointed direction of the bar's basement.

As soon as he closed the basement door behind him he heard the sound of chairs and stools scrapping the floor as their occupants hurriedly cleared the room.

"Useless." The raven haired thought as they would be driving straight into the waiting arms of the police.

Pulling his gun out as he walked softly down the stairs, towards the muffled voices.

"Don't think yourself tough now, do ya?" It was followed with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and a pained grunt.

Controlling his rising anger, Carlton swerved into view.

"SBPD, hands where I can see them." he shouted out.

It took all of the head detective's will power not to pull the trigger, when he took in the sight laid before him.


The freelance consultant had duct tape plastered across his mouth and his arms were bound behind him, as he sat on a half wrecked chair. His hair was a mess, probably due to the pulling and tugging it had been through, and his clothes were torn in places. There were bruises littering the exposed skin, but all looked fresh, especially the one that was blossoming over the fake psychic's right cheek. This meant that the brunet hadn't spent a long time in the company of these thugs, and that knowledge eased the former military man a little.

Making eye contact with the consultant, Lassiter was taken aback by the amount of relief that was held in the brunet's chocolate orbs. However it was short lived and replaced with fear when the abuser, who was similar in appearance except in height, to the one now sleeping one on the bar floor; placed a single action revolver to the younger man's temple. The detective would have considered it a crime that an uncultured man could possess a Colt Single Action Army pistol, if Spencer's life wasn't on the other side of its barrel.

"Like hell." The man said as he lowered himself behind the bound freelancer and cocked the hammer.

However the brute didn't get the chance to pull the trigger, because the former Master Sergeant used his designated marksmanship to place a hole between the brows, on the forehead of the biker.

Shawn let out a muffled scream and ducked as much as his bindings would let him. The head detective could tell that the younger male hadn't been this close to death before as he watched the brunette flinch involuntarily at the sound of the corpse making contact with the floor.

Tucking back his gun, Lassiter rushed to the bound man. Ripping the silver tape covering the smaller man's mouth, he commanded.

"Don't talk, just breath." The brunet nodded but then began to hyperventilate.

"Hey, hey, hey." Lassiter grabbed the fake psychic's shoulders, "Listen to me."

"Behind you." The freelancer croaked out as the detective felt a blow to the back of his head and a hand grip the collar of his shirt pulling him back. The surprise attack had left Carlton momentarily disoriented and unable to defend himself from a punch that sent him sprawling on the floor. As he was descending towards the concrete flooring he heard chocked call, "Lassie." Spencer had let out. The biker must have thought he was knocked out, because from his hazy vision he could see the gangster's back facing him.

Fighting the pounding in his head, the raven haired detective staggered to his feet and focused on the scene playing out before him.

His surprise attacker was now holding the already armed revolver in front of the brunette, with his finger on the trigger. The policeman felt himself snap into his military training and stealthily approached the criminal from behind.

The thug was shorter than him, so Lassiter had no problems in placing a palm under the man's chin and his other on top of the mop of greasy black hair. With one quick and clean twist of the wrist, the former sniper heard a sharp but familiar crack as he felt the biker's neck snap.

Watching blankly as the body felt to the ground, the head detective raised his head to meet the bound man's gaze. The brunette's eyes were blown wide open, mainly in shock but there was a ting of fear and uncertainty mixed in as well. Ignoring the obvious staring, Carlton pulled out his penknife and slowly cut through the bindings that held the consultant in place.


Once Spencer was free from the fastenings, the detective removed his jacket and placed it on the shoulders of the smaller male, it wasn't a shock blanket, but it would do for now. After securing his suit jacket, the marksman placed an arm around the younger man's waist and gently helped the Spencer, who was still in shock, to rise.

'Well done Lassiter. You have successfully frightened and traumatised one Shawn Spencer. See if he or Guster will approach you after this without flinching.' The policeman mentally berated himself as he guided the brunet to the basement stairs.

However his mental self-degradation was interrupted when he felt two icy cold hands grasp his other free palm. Glancing down in surprise, he saw two familiar looking brown orbs stare back at him with relief and gratitude.

"Thanks, Lassie." The smaller male hoarsely said along with a wobbly strained smile before he burrowed into former military man's side.

Tightening his hold on the brown haired consultant even further in protectiveness, he let out a small rare and relived smile, "Anytime, Spencer." He muttered as he heard the approaching police sirens.

A/N: The idea of Lassie being a sniper for the US Army came from character the actor played in the TV series Criminal Minds. In Season 1 Episode 6 'L.D.S.K', the main antagonist was played by Timothy Omundson (Lassie) and his character was a dishonourably discharged Ranger with a hero homicide complex.

So I tweaked the character a bit, melded it to Lassie and created a new and improved 'Bad Ass' version... The character had the ranger tattoo, so I kept that... I hope I got the ranking and the different forces right... I'm not an American and our system is organised differently...

In 'Single Action' revolvers, the hammer must be manually cocked usually with the thumb of the firing or supporting hand. To fire again, the hammer must be manually cocked again. This is called "single-action" because the trigger only performs a single action, of releasing the hammer. The Colt Paterson Revolver, the Walker Colt, the Colt's Dragoon and the Colt Single Action Army pistol of the American Frontier era are examples of this system. Also revolvers' do not leave shell casing as evidence.

Please drop in a word, this take on Lassie hasn't been done before and I would like to know what you think... Anything is welcome constructive criticism, questions, suggestions, opinions, comments, corrections etc.