Chapter Thirty Four: Trust but Verify
Seattle; July 27, 2010; 4:02 a.m.
Humans show an uncanny ability to worry. They worry constantly—about money, food, appearance, employment, and, if they can't worry about those things, they'll find something else. From the time that they're small, they're taught that to worry is to plan ahead. Unfortunately, worrying isn't exactly good for the human body. It can make people gain or lose weight, bring on illness, or disturb sleep.
Nash Grant had found that, ever since becoming Psych, one of the World's Finest, he was having an ever more difficult time sleeping. For years, he had woken up every day at four a.m. exactly.
The morning after the stakeout was no different. Like a light turning on, Nash suddenly became acutely aware of reality.
Attempting to stretch out, he found that his legs were tangled in a blanket.
What? He asked himself, groggily. Where am I? Then, he remembered the night before. He had wanted to wait for Shimmer, and so had been napping until she returned. But he could have sworn he'd been sitting up. And wearing shoes. And the light was on.
It was here that he realized that there was another presence in the room. Nash reached to turn on the light, but stopped his hand halfway. The shape of Shimmer's mind had become as familiar to him as the freckles on his arms.
The moon had already set, making the room nearly pitch black, but Nash could faintly see a tumble of red hair hanging over the arm of his couch.
Smiling, Nash lay back down.
The telepath had difficulty returning to sleep. His mind rolled over all of the ways something could go wrong. Calm down, he told himself. Shimmer'll be worrying enough for both of us.
Realizing that his attempts were futile, Nash slipped off of his bed as quietly as possible. The room was still dark, but Nash was able to make his way over to the couch with only one stubbed toe, turning on the bathroom light on his way.
Shimmer's face held the relaxed look of innocence it only did when she was asleep. For a moment, Nash considered slipping into her mind to see what she dreamt about, but decided he didn't want to risk waking her. It was surprising enough to him that she had even followed his suggestion to rest, and he figured he wouldn't push his luck.
Do electricity monsters get cold? He wondered, taking in her bare arms. Probably not. Nevertheless, he draped the same blanket she had given him over her curled form.
She looked so peaceful, asleep. Nash had to force himself to resist the urge to kiss her forehead.
Shaking his head, he turned and walked out.
Faintly, Shimmer became aware of the scent of maple and bacon. Her nose wrinkled. Still half asleep, she curled in on herself, subconsciously trying to hide her face from the smell.
A loud clatter startled her eyes open. Nash swore, wrapping the side of his hand in a cloth.
Looking up from his hand, Nash fell into a pair of grey eyes watching him. "Hey," he smiled. "Sleep well?"
Shimmer shrugged, then slowly sat up and rolled her shoulders. "What's this?" she asked, gesturing to the table. Paper and aluminum take out boxes covered half the surface, a coffee pot sat to one end, and a plain white mug waited directly in front of her, a puddle of steaming coffee around it.
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