Disclaimer: Don't own Shawn or any psych characters.

A/N: This is my first psych fic, and I had intended to make it funny but then it somehow morphed into something more dramatic. Hopefully I can make it funny and not too sappy. Most likely a 2-shot, but I'm just gonna go ahead and post this since it's getting late.

Summary: Shawn breaks into the house of a murder suspect in order to collect the evidence necessary to convict him, when he's confronted by the killer and shot. Shawn is forced to wait for the help of the SBPD...if he can let them know where he is.

Ew. I don't like writing summaries. Hopefully that was enough to get you interested.


It had been a relatively simple case and Shawn had figured it out in less than a day. Heck, Lassie probably would have figured it out given a few more hours. And maybe that's why Shawn was here now, at the house of Andrew Mulligan: politician, millionaire, and murderer. Because for some reason, he needed to be the first to crack the case.

Regardless of his initial reasoning, Shawn was now regretting his decision to break into the house. He hadn't even bothered telling Gus his plan, knowing he would shoot it down immediately. And then he'd probably call Henry, and Shawn just couldn't deal with that right now. No one knew that he was here, and that was probably for the best.

Shawn refocused his attention on his plan. He knew what he needed and he knew where he could find it, but the second he climbed through the basement window, he could tell that something was up. He could hear someone moving things around upstairs, hastily packing up boxes, no doubt in an attempt to escape before morning.

Shawn knew he should climb back out the window, get a safe distance away from the house, and call Lassie and Jules. But he didn't want to risk the chance that Andrew would destroy the evidence. And then there would be no way of tying him to the murder of his wife Joanna. So Shawn slowly closed the window and quietly crept up the stairs. All he needed to do was grab the evidence and run. It would be so simple.

Of course it wasn't simple. And of course Andrew's first move had been to grab the evidence. So Shawn did the only thing he could think of; he confronted the jerk. Again, not a good move. But Shawn wasn't thinking long-term right now.

"Where do you think you're going, Andrew?" Shawn asked, startling the man and causing him to swing around, squinting to see who it was that was standing in his den at 3 in the morning, disrupting his escape plans. Shawn saw the look of recognition on his face.

"What the..what the hell are you doing in my house, psychic?" Andrew reached down and picked something up. Uh oh, Shawn thought to himself, recognizing the glint of a gun in the dim light. Hadn't planned for that.

Shawn put his hands up in a conciliatory manner. "Whoa, man. No need to point the gun. I just wanna talk." Shawn discretely put his hand in his pocket, pressing "send" on his phone. He had already brought up Lassie's phone number before entering the house, knew he'd be working late at the SBPD trying to solve this case. Jules too. And right now they were his only hope. He spoke up louder then, hoping to drown out the angry greeting from the senior detective that he was certain he would receive.

Shawn motioned to the signed Babe Ruth bat that Andrew was holding in his other hand. "What are you doing with that bat? Or should I say, what are you doing with the murder weapon?"

A look of panic flashed across Andrew's face. Followed immediately by one of pure hatred. Shawn continued. "Didn't think anyone would think to look at your precious baseball collection, did ya Andrew? And you knew you couldn't suddenly get rid of the bat, because that would have been far too suspicious." Shawn spoke even more loudly, hoping that the detectives were on the other line, that they were hanging on to every word he said. "You didn't have anyone fooled, by the way. We knew it was you all along."

"Shut up!" Andrew shouted at him, leveling the gun at Shawn's chest. "I'll shoot you, I swear."

"Shoot me or don't shoot me. You're caught either way. The SBPD knows I'm here, they're sending backup any minute."

Andrew scoffed at that. "You're lying. No way they would have let a psychic go to the house of a suspected murderer. Nice try, though." His face hardened then and Shawn flinched at what he saw reflected in Andrew's eyes. "And you're wrong, psychic. I will get away. What's one more murder if it means my freedom?"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Shawn shouted, but it was too late. He felt the pain of the bullet tear through his stomach before he even had a chance to react, letting out a cry of shock and pain. He looked up into the eyes of Andrew Mulligan and all he saw was pure evil.

"They say getting shot in the stomach is the worst way to die," Andrew told him, and Shawn could hear the sick pleasure in his voice. "Slow and agonizing." He picked up his bags and started packing again, more slowly this time. "And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."


TBC! But only if you review and let me know how it is so far! Bwahaha.