Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Psych characters (and I apologize if I butchered any of them ^.^) This is my first fan fic, and really one of the only stories I've ever really finished. Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 1: Theft of a body

It was a dark night when Shawn stealthily ran down the warehouse driveway. Hiding behind some large crates, he looked back at Gus, who did not want to follow. Shawn beckoned wildly to him to come down, and while Gus at first shook his head, he knew Shawn would win. Shawn always won. Gus looked around and quickly snuck down to Shawn.

"Look, Gus, they're already almost finished loading the van!" Gus looked to where Shawn was pointing and he saw the group of thieves they had been tracking for weeks. "This is our chance to finally bust them!" He looked at his watch. "Jules and Lassie aren't going to make it in time."

Gus knew what was coming next. "So what do you propose we do about it? You know these are highly trained killers, Shawn." Shawn looked around, desperate for a clue.

"Buddy, we have to distract them, even just for a few minutes. Maybe we can buy enough time for the cops to show up." Shawn started to get up.

"Shawn, no! We need to stay right here and wait for the police. You know you'll just get shot if you go down there!" Shawn ignored Gus, even though a voice in the back of his head said his friend was right. He just had to buy time.

The thieves, completely dressed in black head to toe like ninjas, were almost done loading boxes into a white, unmarked van. A second van, already loaded, took off. Shawn, praying this wouldn't blow up in his face, ran up.

"Hello, I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective with the SPBD. I know what you're doing and might I say, it's a brilliant plan." He noticed only two of the thieves stopped their work and focused on him.

One black clad figure whispered to the other, "Psychic?" The other one nodded and they both whipped out their guns. The first one told Shawn, "Get in the van." Just then, Gus ran up to Shawn and sirens were heard in the distance. The second thief cursed, looked at the first, who nodded, and they both fired at Shawn.

Shawn got a very bad feeling when he saw them whisper to each other, and felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of their guns. He was about to apologize and make up some excuse when they told him to get in the van. He got distracted by Gus suddenly being next to him, and then there was a loud noise and flash of light. Shawn felt himself fall, but he was unable to move. He guessed he'd been shot, though he had no idea where or how bad. He was completely paralyzed. He briefly saw Gus hover over him, freaking out, saying something Shawn couldn't hear. Then he saw Gus put his hands up and get shot in the arm. Shawn's vision blurred and went black.

"Gus! Gus! Are you alright?" Juliet O'Hara ran up to Gus, who was on his knees gripping his bleeding arm and staring off into the distance. Too late… he thought. Just a minute too late… "Oh my god, you're bleeding! Gus, we have to get you to a hospital!" She called back to someone to call for an ambulance. She looked around and then it hit her. "Gus, where is Shawn?" Lassiter walked over to where Shawn had been shot and felt his blood run cold as he saw the puddle.

"Guster, you need to tell us what happened. Is this Spencer's blood?" Gus looked over and nodded. "So where is he?"

"They… they took him." His voice shook as he tried to tell them what had happened.

Shawn woke to an intense amount of pain in his lower abdomen and many pairs of hands holding him down. He tried to cry out, but his voice was hoarse as if he'd been screaming for hours. Just as the pain started to subside and pulsate, he saw a red hot metal rod approach his shoulder. Panic welled up in him and he tried to move despite the pain and he felt the hands press down even harder making any attempt at escape impossible. The metal rod made contact with his shoulder. At first it almost felt like ice, but it was the most painful ice he had ever felt. Tears streamed down his face as the darkness took him again.

At first Shawn wasn't sure if it was a dream, though it wasn't like he was going to complain. He woke up in a steaming bath room and a couple bikini clad women were gently bathing him with sponges. Everything was blurred by the steam and he felt so relaxed he fell asleep again. He awoke briefly in a bright white hospital room. Everything was so white and bright it almost hurt to open his eyes. He faded back out again.

He finally woke to reality, strapped to a metal operating table with a bright light shining down on him, making the surroundings black. He could barely tell there were people all around. One, holding surgical tools, walked over and saw him open his eyes.

"This is no good." She muttered. She looked up and asked, "Do we have any anesthetic? Or alcohol?" Shawn flinched and inwardly groaned when the he heard the reply: No.

"Wait, nurse, I have some brandy I can go get." He heard a faint voice call out. The nurse nodded and put her tools down while she waited. Shawn tried to move, even though he had pretty much figured escape would be impossible. He quickly found that even if he wasn't strapped down completely, the pain would have incapacitated him anyway. Why of all times could he not just slip back into the wonderful darkness? Before he knew it, brandy was poured onto his shoulder and then abdomen. He had expected it to burn, but it was a cooling sensation that brought relief. Too bad it didn't numb it so completely he couldn't feel the needle pierce his skin. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as the nurse stitched his wounds, more tears streaming down his face. He was awake for the shoulder stitching, but as soon as the nurse moved to his abdomen, he passed out again from the pain.