Title: I Love You, Too

Category: TV Shows » Psych

Author: Exibit A

Language: English, Rating: Rated: T

Genre: Tragedy/Hurt/Comfort

Published: 09-13-09, Updated: 09-13-09

Chapters: 1, Words: 2,973

Chapter 1: I love you too

Hello everyone :]

So, I was in a ridiculously weird mood the other night, and I got thinking about what it would be like for Gus if Shawn was gone from

his life for good. I would NEVER want this to actually happen in the show, but I did have fun writing it.

I hope you guys enjoy this... please, read and review!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Shawn, it's not safe. Is it really worth it to go out and find that madman, just to prove your masculinity? It's STUPID, Shawn!"

His best friend had glared at him softly, determined.

"I have to, Gus."

Gus slammed his fist down on the table, but Shawn didn't react. "At least take me with you, dammit! Don't do this by yourself!" His expression softened, and his voice dropped. "She didn't die, Shawn. He didn't get her. Let Lassiter, Chief Vick, McNab . . . let them handle this."

Shawn shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Dude, I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing. I'm the only one who can get into his head." Gus shut his eyes, and he knew, he knew that this was the way things had to be. There was no going back; only forward. Shawn had made his decision.

"This is a mistake, Shawn." The anger was evident in his voice. How could Shawn be so selfish?

Shawn smirked and turned to walk away, though he stopped mid-step to glance over his shoulder at Gus. "Hey, dude?"

Gus's lip twitched, but his glare didn't waver, and his voice was sharp. "What?"

"I love you, buddy."

He waited for a moment, as if expecting Gus to reply. When he didn't, Shawn turned away, and strode out of the Psych office. Gus's glare softened as he stared at his friend's back for the last time, watched him go, and couldn't find the words to say anything back.

"It's been a year, Gus."

"I know."

"Have you seen him yet?"

"No."

"Oh . . . I expected . . ." Henry's voice trailed off, and he rubbed the top of his head nervously. Gus knew what Henry had expected. He just hadn't been able to do it yet. Neither said anything else; Henry just clutched a photo that Gus couldn't see, and Gus sat on the couch, fiddling with the fraying fibers.

He had so much more to say, so much more he wanted to say, but couldn't. Gus was sitting in Henry's living room, leaning back against the couch, eyes closed, remembering. Trying not to cry. Henry had been through just as much pain as he had. Maybe more. He couldn't be weak in front of him. Not now. Not when the pain was all too real, still unbearable and unbelievable after even a year.

"He wouldn't blame you."

Henry had spoken softly, but his words had resonated loud enough. Gus needed to get out . . . away from Henry, away from the place where memories that had once brought him happiness now only clawed at his heart. He stood up quickly, fighting back tears that threatened to escape. It didn't matter if Shawn blamed him or not. He blamed himself. It was his fault. His mistake. Gus swallowed, a sick feeling rising in his throat. Shawn was his best friend, and he let him down. With a stiff nod in Henry's direction, Gus turned towards the door, leaving the house he had spent so many days in growing up for the last time. His eyes found the motorcycle in the driveway, and he could no longer hold back the tears, though a smile forced its way through. He made his way to his blue Yaris, collapsed in his seat, and sobbed.

Gus's phone rang, and he stared at it, dread rising up in his throat. He already knew what the call would be about. He had known, the second it happened. It was as if something inside of him died, without warning. Physically, he was fine. But part of him was missing, a part of him as real as anything else, a part of him that made him who he was— died, four minutes ago.

He lifted his phone with a shaking hand, and glanced at the Caller ID. Juliet. Gus shut his eyes, wanting more than anything for this all to be a bad dream. To wake up, and know that everything was all right, and know that things were perfectly normal. Before, he had often complained about the spontaneous road trips for a case, or missing work too often. Now, he would give anything to have it back.

Slowly, hand shaking uncontrollably, Gus lifted the phone to his ear.

". . . Hello?" His voice was barely a whisper, throat dry and hoarse. Juliet's soft sobs echoed through the phone, and Gus could feel his heart constrict, like someone was squeezing it with a vice. He heard the words before they even left her lips.

"He's gone."

He was driving, but he didn't realize where his body was taking him until he had already parked. He stared at their old office, nostalgia stronger than ever. Slowly, he got out of his car, the normalcy of everything mind blowing. All around him, people were laughing, playing, talking on the phone. Their lives had kept on going, while his had stopped a year ago. It wasn't fair.

A flutter of movement, barely visible through the blinds caught Gus's eye, and a false sense of hope coursed through his veins. He knew, logically, that it wasn't possible, but the illogical part of his mind wanted to believe. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was running towards the door, pulling out the key he still kept in his pocket and jamming it in the lock, flinging the door open. He knew it was ridiculous to act this way, but the need to see the one person who truly meant more than anyone else overpowered any logic left in his mind. He stopped though, when he saw the source of the movement.

"Juliet?"

She grinned sheepishly, though her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Gus's heart sank in his chest, and he scolded himself. He knew it hadn't been possible, and getting his hopes up had been masochistic. She ran a hand through her hair before shoving her hands in her pockets awkwardly.

"I didn't think it would be like I remembered . . . but everything looks exactly the same." Gus shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "I keep paying the rent every month. I can't really seem to let it go." Though his tone was casual enough, he knew that Juliet would be able to feel the underlying pain. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged and dropped her head, her shoulders starting to shake. "I . . . I miss him, Gus." Her voice was quiet with heartache , and at the moment, Gus wanted to reach out a touch her, hold her, comfort her, in any way possible. But he didn't. He just stood there staring, not moving a muscle.

"He loved you, you know."

Her head snapped up, and her mouth formed a small "o" , and she searched for words. Shawn hay not have been able to admit it, as he was far too stubborn for that, but Gus could see through his charade. He had loved Juliet, there was no question.

Tears were running freely down her face, but she managed a smile.

"He loved you too. More than anyone." Gus looked away, the guilt eating at him. They had had that kind of bond, it was true. But in the end, it hadn't mattered. They were separated anyway and Gus had never said goodbye. If he had just stopped him from going . . . been a man, and made him stay . . . it was his fault. The pain Juliet was in was his own doing. Gus shook his head and sighed, trying to find the right words to express how he felt, but none came. As if sensing his unease, Juliet spoke.

"He wouldn't blame you, Gus. If anything—" her voice broke, but she composed herself quickly. "If . . . if anyone should be blamed, it should be me. I'm the reason he followed Travens in the first place." He voice trailed off, and Gus looked away, knowing that more tears would be streaming down her cheeks. The guilt was bearing down on him; crushing him.

Gus sat with his head down, sinking into one of the chairs in front of the Chi ef's desk. Shawn had been able to get into Travens's head . . . too well. By the time the police got to the scene, the two figures of the murder-suicide had been lying in thick pools of blood, long into death. Max Travens had left a suicide note, still clutched in his bloody hand when they found him. Shawn's presence had been too intimidating; he'd known every last detail of Travens's embezzlement scheme. He wanted Travens to turn himself in; revenge for kidnapping his female friend, the detective. "I couldn't let him live after that," Travens had written in a shaky hand, Shawn's blood from the multiple stab wounds he had endured still fresh on the killer's hands. His wife had been caught in the crossfire of the scheme, he had lost every penny, kidnapped a police officer, and now he'd just killed a man. Travens slit his own throat.

Gus had felt sick hearing the details. The crime scene photos that they had flashed in the conference room had been too much . . . he'd needed to escape, so he came to the Chief's office, to be alone. His best friend was dead . . . murdered . . . and he hadn't done anything to prevent it. He could have stopped this from happening. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own anger, he could have seen through his friend's charade, and forced him to let him help. If Gus had been at all the friend to Shawn that Shawn had been to him, maybe . . . maybe he would still be alive.

He'd failed. Tears poured down his face as he remembered the last time he had seen his friend alive and well. As he remembered what he said.

And Gus didn't even get to say goodbye.

"No . . ." His voice was barely a whisper, but it was there. "It was my fault. I could have stopped him . . . I could have—" His voice broke, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing the pain would all just go away.

Wishing he could have Shawn back.

He jumped as Juliet's arms wrapped around him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist in response, almost like a reflex, pulling her close to him. He buried her face in her hair, letting the tears flow freely, and he could feel a wet spot growing where her tears were hitting his shirt. His guilt increaed as if he would burst as he felt Juliet's shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. She had loved Shawn, that much was obvious. No matter how many times she rejected him, turned him away, and told him no, she had loved him.

"Everyone did."

Juliet pulled her face away, and looked up at him, confusion riddled in her expression.

"What..?"

A sad smile played at the corners of Gus's lips. "Shawn. Everyone loved him. It didn't matter how much he annoyed you, pissed you off, or made fun of you. You couldn't help but love him."

Juliet smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "I wish . . . I wish I'd said yes. All those times he asked, I should have agreed." Gus patted her back and broke away from the hug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Juliet was fiddling nervously with a strand of hair. "I . . . I should have told him how I felt." Gus let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm on my way to see him . . . if you want to come."

Juliet nodded softly, and together they exited the Psych office, for what Gus knew would be the last time.

"Come on, dude!" Eight-year-old Shawn Spencer tapped his foot impatiently, standing at the end of the hallway waiting for Gus to catch up. Shawn clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I don't see why you need to carry all of your books home every day. It's not like you need them or something!" Gus finally caught up to his friend, panting. He was carrying every textbook they had been given, his backpack nearly bursting at the seams.

"I DO need them, Shawn! I'll never get anywhere in life if I'm stupid! I gotta study as much as I can—" Gus's sentence was interrupted by several of the books he was carrying sliding out of his arms and hitting the floor. His face fell, and he reached out to pick them up, only to have is hand swatted away. Shawn smiled at him, grabbing the books and tossing them into his own backpack. Gus stared at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Shawn shrugged, and patted his backpack. "You're my best friend. I figured I'd help you out a little bit. Besides, now you don't look like such a dork." Gus grinned, and punched his friend lightly on the arm.

"Best friends forever?"

"Best friends forever."

REST IN PEACE

SHAWN SPENCER

July 5, 1977 – September 12, 2009

A friend, a son, and a brilliant detective. We love

you, Shawn. You will never be forgotten.

Gus stared down at his friend's tombstone, his hand gripping Juliet's firmly. It seemed surreal, staring down at his best friend's grave. In all his life, he had never pictured this day. The death of Shawn Spencer had seemed impossible . . . he was so full of life, so vibrant, an inextinguishable flame. But the truth was, Shawn had died. In the beginning, Gus had blamed Shawn. How could he have left them?

And then he realized that Shawn had known, he must have known all along, that he was going to die if he went to find Travens. If Shawn didn't find him, Travens would find his friends and family. That's when the guilt had taken the place of anger. Gus could have prevented all of this, if he'd tried, and not been so caught up in himself. Shawn was his best friend; he should have gone to the ends of the Earth to protect him, just as Shawn would have done. Shawn saved them all, by sacrificing himself.

Gus was only vaguely aware of Juliet crying next to him; she sounded a million miles away. He was remembering the last thing Shawn had said to him, the last words he'd ever heard his best friend speak. The words he hadn't said when they counted.

"I love you too, Shawn."

And there we go... sad stuffs, but fun stuffs. PLEASE review, it would mean the world to me. Love for all