I don't own Psych or any of the characters!
Some of the lines are direct quotes from Mr. Yin Presents (S4 E16) and belong to James Roday and the rest of the Psych writers!
Numbers
I'll drop by half past four
I hear her voice ringing in my head.
Half past four.
Half past four.
Shaking.
Breaking.
I pull up my sleeve to look at my watch. 3:51 am.
39 minutes.
39 minutes, and I would lose my partner. I shake my head. I will not lose her. I can't.
"It's a clock tower. It's the clock tower!" Gus says.
I grab my coat and walk out the door.
"Detective wait!" Chief says to me, "A civilian has been taken as well, she must be given priority. If we have the slightest clue-"
I cut her off. "You have all the units chief. I'll be going to get my partner now."
Nothing is going to stop me. I get in my car and race off. The clock tower is 40 minutes way. I need to get there faster. I need to get there before-
I flick on my sirens and press the gas.
75…76…77…
I look in my rear view mirror and see lights faintly blinking in the background.
They are coming with me. I will save her. Nothing in the world will stop me.
Exactly 31 minutes later I see the gray building towering above me.
Chief and Gus are right behind me. I shove through the locked door and run to the elevator.
Out of order
"Take the stairs!" Chief yells behind me.
193.
193 stairs between me and the top. Between me and O'Hara. O'Hara.
Don't think. Just run.
My legs start to hurt.
Just run.
Half past four.
Half past four.
Just run.
I get to the top and see the gears turning. No one is here. Where is she?
The door is open. I race out.
"O'Hara!" I don't believe what I see. She is on the other side of the railing. On a chair. "Oh god!"
I hear the clock move forward. Her shoulders shoot up.
4:29
I shoot a look at Gus.
He runs to hold onto the big hand.
"You got do something quick- I can't hold it for long!" Gus screams.
I look at O'Hara, then run back to the gears of the clock.
60 seconds.
Shooting isn't going to do any good this time. I shove my gun into the gears.
"Did it work?" I yell out.
"Ya!"
Thank god.
I run to the chair.
I take the sleeve out of her mouth.
I put my hands on her shoulders.
"We got you." I tell her.
She doesn't turn around.
Just breathe.
Just breathe.
"We got you."
The sun came up at 6:44.
2 hours after we pulled her out of that chair.
Why can't I get to her?
Questions.
Statements.
Phone calls.
Where did they take her?
Searching.
Seconds pass.
"I'm fine!"
O'Hara.
There was an EMT trying to get her to go to the hospital.
I grab his shoulders.
"I'm fine." She declares to me.
But she's not.
She's hurt.
She's scared.
"You don't have to be fine."
It takes her 9 seconds.
9 seconds.
I grab her elbow.
She breaks.
I tuck her head in my chest.
She grabs my sleeve.
"Shhh…" I whisper grabbing her back.
Pulling her in.
"It's ok…"
I feel her shaking.
Breaking.
And all I can do is count the seconds until she is whole again.
But facts and numbers can't help her this now.
Only time can do that.
Time.
The same thing that broke her.
Time.