A small basket sit on the threshold of the Psych office, a pale blue and gold ribbon tied around the handle. Most of it's contents were obscured by a gold fleece blanket. The orange-gold rays of the morning sun lighten and twinkle off of the gold fabric, making the basket glow with a faint aura.
The first person to notice it is Gus. He had left his phone at the office and needed to go back for it, for fear he'd miss a call from Rachel. He had parked the Blueberry in his normal spot, and nearly tripped over the basket upon entering the office.
The near fall elicited a soft cry from the basket, so Gus picked it up and brought it inside. Upon removing the blanket, he quickly located his phone and called Shawn.
"Hey, Shawn. How fast can you get to Psych?" he asked his beat friend.
"Give me ten minutes. Why?" Shawn questioned, curiousity evident in his tired voice.
"Make it five. Then, I'll tell you when you get here." Gus responded, closing his phone. He stared in awe at the contents of the basket.
Seven minutes later, Shawn arrived on his motorcycle with a pineapple smoothie in his hand.
"What is so important that I needed to be at Psych at the crack of dawn? A case?" Shawn asked. Gus shook his head.
"Andy." Gus responded. Shawn's face lost it's smirk instantly, along with draining in colour, turning deathly white.
"What have I told you about that name?" Shawn replied, too calm for the situation. Gus looked towards his desk nervously.
"Just, uh, go over to my desk." Gus told him, barely above a whisper. Shawn obliged, finding the basket. When he looked into it, his gaze was met by a small, curious set of eyes that held the exact same, Spencer green.
"No. No, no, no, no, NO!" Shawn whispered, getting progressivly louder with each new word. The eyes that stared back at him belonged to a baby boy, not much older that four weeks. He had tufts of ginger hair, evidently not from his Spencer DNA.
"But Andy's dead, Gus. She's dead." Shawn whispered.
"Read the letter. I didn't touch it, what with mail fraud and all." Gus instructed.
Tentavly, he opened the envelope, feeling like he was re-animating the dead.
Dear Shawn,
Shawn, oh Shawn. If you're reading this letter, something really, really bad happened. And I don't mean the Supermarket ran out of pineapples bad. Much, much worse. The boy in the basket is my son, Shawn. I named him after you. The ginger came from his father, who was a drunken asshole. The green though, that's Spencer through and through. Forest green, mixed with Emerald green and brown flecks. Just like you, me and Dad. Ah, crap, I'm rambling.
Anyway, I know that, up until you saw little Shawnie, you thought I was dead, but I'm not. Well, not yet, but I might be, seeing as you're reading this.
Just remember one thing, Shawn, I had to. Andy Spencer had to die for a noble cause, so Andromeda Owens could live. I hated every minute of all thirteen years of not being able to contact you. I missed you, and your 'psychic' act. I love you, Starfish. I really do, and that is why I trust you and only you to raise my son in my place. Tell him stories of his momma, and yourself, and Dad, and Mom, even Gus, but Gus is boring. Sssh! Don't tell him I said that.
In the basket, there's legal papers, making you Shawnie's official guardian, some cash for baby stuff and pictures of me from that day, thirteen years ago, until the day before I wrote this letter.
Take care of him.
Love,
Andy-Bear.
A stray tear leaked from Shawn's left eye, falling at a snail's pace onto the faded parchment. Shawn immidatly placed it on his desk and went to the basket. Shawnie had fallen back asleep, a stuffed pineapple in his clutches.
Directly underneath his left leg was a photo album, the cover a simple green leather entitled 'Andromeda Madeline Spencer, 2000-2013.' in gold cursive.
Shawn flipped mindlessly through the pages, taking in the slight differences in her appearance from image to image. Her brown hair had grown longer, almost to her waist, and her eyes, her beautiful Spencer green eyes, had grown heavy with the weight of losing her family.
More tears fell from Shawn's eyes, dotting the pictures with stains.
The very last page wasn't a photograph, but a sketch, in extreme detail and colour.
It depicted Shawn, as he was, thirteen years ago, kneeling over Andromeda's prone, cold body, tears streaking his cheeks. Andy lay prone and lifeless, hair strewn about, like a crown. A crown for the only princess in Shawn's life.
"Gus, can you call Jules? Tell her to meet me here. I need to tell her about Andy. Please, Gus, please." Shawn whispered.
Gus immediatly did, trying to stay as far from his grieving friend as possible. Andy's death had taken a huge toll on him, and now, finding out she was dead all over again, he didn't want to cross Shawn right now. Nobody should.
Ten minutes later, Juliet was at the Psych office, a pineapple muffin in hand.
"Shawn, who's that?" she asked upon seeing Shawn rocking Shawnie in his arms.
"Juliet, meet my nephew, Shawn Adam Spencer."
A/N: Dun, dun, dun! What do you think? I hope my idea is original. I really do. Anyway, the next few chapters will explain more about Andy, her relationship with Shawn, who, if you can't tell, is her brother, and how she died. Both times.
