Psych: The Real Deal
Summary: What if Shawn Spencer was actually psychic? What would be the repercussions? How would it affect the story? And what happens when criminal sights are set on him for his gift…?
Disclaimer: This is a fan-fiction story of the TV show; Psych, and is in no way affiliated with the actual show. All characters and other materials related to the show that are used are not intended to infringe on any Copyrights. Elemental-Zer0 takes sole responsibility for any mistakes or offence that may be taken but truly not meant. However, any characters that are not related to any copyrights are copyrighted to Elemental-Zer0 as is any variations to the plot set out in the show.
Authors Note: So I played the "What If…?" game and came up with this little ditty. Don't expect regular or quick updates though as I'm a sporadic writer and my real world life kidnaps me often. Sorry in advance.
Anyways, let me know what you think, but no flames please. If you have any criticism to make please do it politely otherwise I shall ignore your words. (It's happened before, I'm sorry to say, and I hadn't even posted any real chapters…)
Chapter One: Pilot - Prologue
1986 – Santa Barbara, USA
It was lunchtime and Detective Henry Spencer was having lunch with his ten year old son, Shawn in a small café. The sun was warm as it usually was this time of year and was shining through the café's front windows with a golden hue. The place was fairly busy but not too noisy.
"You do your homework?" Henry asked in a no nonsense tone. He was a fair man but strict when it came to his son's behaviour and priorities. As a law enforcement officer it was his job to instil order in chaos and having a son like Shawn was chaos in its most rawest form.
"Uh huh." The boy replied in a monotone and universally bored tone as he played with the beetroot salad on his plate.
"Finish with those beets?" Henry asked, noticing how the boy had actually finished most of the vegetable that had been served on his plate. Shawn looked up at the man then and put his knife and fork neatly onto the plate.
"Yep." He replied, popping the 'p' as any young boy his age would. Henry then watched as his son glanced over to the small mountain of cakes and treats protected under a glass cake lid on the counter. He watched in amusement as the boy licked his lips before turning back to his father to ask the inevitable question.
"Can I have the fudge cake?" Henry chuckled inside his head but only gave a mild appraising look at the hopeful boy. He thought for a second then decided it was time for more practice. The kid was going to earn that fudge cake, especially since it cost more than his coffee did.
"Close your eyes." He commanded. His eyes were stern and his lips set in determined battle stance. It was no secret how the two of them butted heads often, especially seeing how Shawn had inherited his father's stubborn streak. But Henry was older, wiser and a law enforcer with size and experience on his side. Shawn was still scrawny and thin.
The boy took a frustrated intake of air, arguments on the tip of his tongue. "Dad, I don't wanna…" but Henry cut him off quickly. He knew Shawn wasn't fond of his gift and he knew the boy would avoid using it if it wasn't for the constant games Henry played in hopes to train that gift into becoming a powerful weapon against criminal minds.
"Now." His tone was strict and he wasn't backing down on it. Shawn looked like he was going to fight back like nearly every other time they played this game come training exercise but it seemed that Shawn's gluttony for the fudge cake seemed to have won out. The boy sighed and closed his eyes, bringing his fingers up to his temples to help hone and concentrate. He rested his elbows on the café's table to help steady his concentration.
Henry looked up and found the café's exit sign glowing above the door which was behind his son. 'That'll do.' He thought to himself.
"Which letter is out in the exit sign?" He asked, looking back to his son to make sure he wasn't cheating. He watched a small frown furrow the kid's brow before he answered.
"The 'x'." Shawn replied. Henry nodded to himself, he was correct but gave the boy no room to think again.
"What colour is the vinyl?" He asked, crossing his arms in front of him. It had originally freaked him out how his son could see but not see things like a normal person. Sure, he himself, had always been able to notice things and remember them but that was police training; that was his mentality. Shawn didn't have years of experience under his belt and he was too young to have trained his mind into the calculating machine that Henry's was. To notice the smallest detail and remember it, was something that took years of practice and a certain paranoia that only came with the job. Shawn was able to pick up details and connections just as quick, if not quicker, than Henry could at just the tender age of ten. But if Henry was being honest, Shawn had been doing this for just over eight years, ever since the boy had learned to walk and talk. It sent goose bumps down his arms every time but he never showed it. That was the last thing Shawn needed; his own father to be awkward around him.
"What's vinyl?" Shawn asked.
The innocent question made him feel old. Could have done without that jab. "It's the stuff these seats are covered in." Henry explained with a level of patience honed from years on the force.
"Purple." Shawn answered.
This was too easy for the boy. Henry decided to up it a notch. "Ok listen up. Manager's name?" He asked. Knowing that the boy would've missed this one. It wasn't obvious who the manager was and he wasn't going to give up any more details.
"Who?" Shawn asked bewildered.
Henry knew then that the boy had been relying on his eidetic memory instead of his gift and decided to make the boy work harder. "She's wearing a nametag like the other staff members. You can find her." He encouraged and watched his son carefully. The boy gave a defeated slump and a huff. Then went still and very quiet for a few seconds.
Usually, for Shawn to "Find" somebody, he had to have something that resonated with them. That was usually something they kept hold of for sentimental reasons like a wedding ring or handkerchief. He could also "Find" someone by using a lock of their hair or a finger nail clipping. It wasn't nice, it was actually gross but he could do it. However to find someone without any personal object to use as a radar, that's where things got complicated. Ethically speaking, that is.
For Shawn, this was the part he hated most. He had to open his mind up to everyone in the café and discern from the rabble, the information that he was looking for. It felt wrong. Like he was invading their minds without permission. Your mind was your most private and sanctified place because no one would ever know what you were thinking. You could choose to share it or to keep it to yourself. Except for Shawn. Reading minds was a practice he'd found he could do from a young age. Ever since he could understand the spoken word he could hear words that hadn't been spoken too.
He sighed to himself and opened up to the room. A cacophony of internal voices joined the external voices and his head started to ache a little from all the noise. A pressure around his temples and sinuses began to gently squeeze but remained bearable. He filtered through the voices, looking for specific words and links in conversations. The word "Manager" popped up a few times but the first two were complaints about their own managers being assholes. The third mention of the word "manager" pertained to the florist shop and then finally the fourth "manager" was aimed at the café.
"~It's such a shame the old manager of this place passed away. Charlie was a lovely fellow.~" It was an older lady. Meredith Parkers, 72yrs old. Two sons, one grandson. She had a cat called Thomas and hated when her husband snored at night. She loved sunflowers and roses and wine but wouldn't drink it in front of her family. Shawn frowned internally, he was getting distracted. Shawn focussed on her completely, the other voices disappeared and faded to background noise. Her mind was the only one he was reading now. "~Still, this new manager is quite capable. I never thought Marie would be promoted but if Charlie wanted her to replace him then she must be something special.~" That was it. He found the information he needed. He closed his mind to hers immediately and allowed his gift to fade. The pressure in his head lessened and the background noise became normal again.
"Marie." He finally said. Henry felt a shiver go down his spine but it went unnoticed. "Can I have the cake now?" Shawn asked, his eyes were still closed and his hands were still by the side of his head. He knew he wasn't supposed to open his eyes unless his father told him to.
Henry was quiet for a moment. Shawn had cheated to begin with. He hadn't yet earned his cake. "How many hats?" Henry finally asked which received a frustrated groan.
"Uuhhh come on Dad…" Shawn complained. But Henry was standing his ground.
"Shawn you wanna piece of cake; how many hats are in the room?" He asked once more. Shawn huffed again before going still one more time.
This was a different exercise and Shawn had a little more ease working with it. It was almost like being able to see without using his eyes. He'd once read an article about astral projection and wondered, still did, if this was a form of astral projection. The information he read about described how one could project their image to another place and see and talk to the people there. While Shawn had never managed that specifically, he did feel like he was seeing the world through a projection. Almost as though he were a ghost watching from anywhere he wanted to view from.
At the thought of ghosts, Shawn shuddered a little. That was a whole other story. One he really wasn't comfortable with. He distracted himself with the task at hand. He found himself seeing the room from his own viewpoint. His physical eyes were still closed but he could see all around the room. He quickly located the hats his dad was asking about but got confused with one small technicality.
"Does a beanie count?" He asked, his voice sounded echo-ey from this projectual realm. He wasn't sure about the beanie because sometimes his dad changed the rules to keep him on his toes.
"What do you think?" Henry's voice echoed too.
Shawn knew what he had to do. He needed to find out for himself what he father thought about the beanie. He had to read his father's mind. He took a moment and finally he had all his answers. "Three." He said, knowing there was more because he'd seen it coming. He'd delved into his father's mind and had seen what he was thinking. Henry wanted descriptions.
"You didn't describe them." Sure enough, as soon as the older man had thought it, he'd said it out loud.
"That's not fair." Shawn complained. His head was starting to hurt after having stayed in the projectual realm for this long. But Henry's mind was set, Shawn could feel the resolute response before Henry spoke it.
"Time's almost up Shawn." Shawn growled internally as the waitress came over to their table. He fired off the descriptions with rapid fire accuracy.
"One has a flower, the one the lady's wearing. One has a picture of some kind of lion on the weird guy with the crooked tooth. The last one is on the chef." He said, he could see them clear as day in his little realm.
"What about the beanie?" Henry asked, wanting Shawn to confirm he'd read his father's thoughts while in the realm. Shawn felt his head pulse a little with the strain but did so anyway. Henry's thoughts had been loud and clear.
"The beanie is a cap, not a hat." He recited, word for word.
Henry was a little taken aback and paused for a few moments before relenting. "Alright, open your eyes." He said.
Shawn gave a weary sigh as he finally closed down his senses and opened his eyes. "Thank you…" he mumbled. Noticing how the waitress had stopped to watch the little display.
"Wow. That's amazing." She said with a little awe in her voice. Shawn smiled at the praise and perked up.
Henry regarded his son for a moment before stating his opinion. "It's adequate." He relented and watched with a note of regret as his son's and smile faded to disappointment. "Get him his cake." Henry added hoping that would bring the smile back but it didn't. He'd just let his son down and now he wasn't sure how to fix it.
"Guess I know what you're going to be when you grow up." The Waitress chimed in. Bust Shawn didn't even pause with his response.
"Oh, I'm never gonna grow up ma'am." That thought sent shivers down Henry's spine. Never had a truer word been spoken.