Lawyers: Our client does not own Psych, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this fic. Don't sue her.

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Chapter 2

Shawn sat curled up in the corner of his couch with his back to the arm rest. Held loosely in his hand was the pamphlet Dr. Field gave him. Despite his previous refusal to admit there was something wrong with his eyes, his morbid curiosity got the best of him and he had already read through it twice.

He couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop the reality of the situation from sinking in with each page he read and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering in the direction of, 'What if...'

He had the whole pamphlet committed to memory after reading it the first time. There was really no reason to look at it again, yet he read through it a second time and...

Shawn stared down at the pamphlet, fiddling with a corner, and wondered why he was torturing himself like this.

The title was simple enough and straight to the point. Retinitis Pigmentosa, typed out in large text, as was the rest of the pamphlet, probably for people further along in the disease who couldn't see as well. Shawn was a bit surprised his eye doctor even had pamphlets on the disease considering how uncommon it was.

'Around one person to every twenty-five-hundred,' Shawn recalled. 'Aren't I lucky?'

He opened up the pamphlet and skimmed through the first page. The first few paragraphs told him what Dr. Field had already explained to him; that retinitis pigmentosa (RP) was a genetic degenerative eye disease; that you could still get it even if there's no history of the disease in your family, and it went on to describe the progressive pattern of RP's most common form.

There were some things Dr. Field didn't explain though, such as the variations for the disease. Apparently in some cases, central vision was lost first, and with it went the ability to see fine details, recognize faces and see colors correctly.

'Making my photographic memory obsolete.'

It wasn't that Shawn was worried about losing his central vision first, the gradual decline of his peripheral vision was proof enough that that wasn't the case, it was just that he was more concerned about when the time would come in the future for his central vision to go and all of those important little factors with it.

'How can I continue work at Psych if I can't see small details and people's faces?'

No, he wasn't going to go down that road and he berated himself from even worrying at all because according to the second page of the pamphlet, many people with RP don't become legally blind until their forties or fifties. He was thirty. Rounding up, he had at least another fifteen years before he had to worry about anything. By that time, he might even be tired of Psych.

'But it also says that some people can lose their sight to RP in as early as childhood,' a small part of his mind pointed out. 'You just don't know.'

Glaring at the page and the small reminder in his head, Shawn flipped to the next page, but what it said did little to lighten his mood. The page talked about the genetic aspects of the disease and how much of the research on RP focused on the genetic causes of the disease. He couldn't help but be reminded of the specialist he had seen just a day ago...

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His whole week had consisted of a few more tests just to make sure he only had RP and not one of the other diseases that had similar symptoms or was sometimes linked to RP. Shawn supposed he should be grateful that the tests came back negative, yet somehow that particular silver lining on the dark cloud that had settled over his life was lost on him.

After explaining that he only knew so much about the disease, Dr. Field had referred him to a specialist who could better handle his needs. Shawn hadn't really seen the point. If there was no cure, then what could a specialist possibly do for him? Still, when the time came, Shawn dragged himself to his appointment with one Dr. Charia.

After filling out forms and waiting in the waiting room for a good half-hour, Dr. Charia had taken him in to a back room to do her own tests, as if he hadn't had enough tests already, just to make sure that the diagnosis was correct. It was right, of course, and after she repeated to him what Dr. Field had already told him, she went off on a whole big spiel about how she wanted to do some genetic tests on him to see if they could find the specific defective gene that was causing his disease.

Just as she began talking about how his insurance might not cover all of the tests and that he would have to pay a little bit out of his pocket, he held up a hand to stop her and asked, "Will this test actually cure me or prolong its progression in any way?"

She paused for a moment to purse her lips before saying, "The point of the test is to find the specific gene in your family that is causing the disease. This information could be used in the future for finding a possible cure or finding a way to isolate the gene so that it doesn't affect future generations."

It wasn't anything personal against Dr. Charia, Shawn was just tired of all the tests and tired of going in for doctor's visits that ended up being completely pointless since they only ended up telling him things he already knew. He had wasted hours of his life, hours he could have spent going somewhere and seeing things just so that he could be told that, "No, there's no real way I can help you right now, nothing I can cure you with, but if you pay me more money, money out of your own pocket, it might somehow benefit a future generation."

"So, just to be clear, that's a 'No' then on the cure?" Shawn asked. Dr. Charia paused again, seeming to consider her wording carefully, but before she could actually answer him, Shawn said, "I think I'll be going now. I'll let myself out, thanks."

"Mr. Spencer!" she called after him as he left down the hall towards the waiting room and the exit. He ignored her though and walked out of the building, not planning on coming back anytime soon.

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Shawn closed the pamphlet and stared down at it with a small sigh before tossing it across the room like a Frisbee. It spun in the air briefly before hitting the floor near the numbered wall. Shawn's gaze traveled from the pamphlet up to the numbers on the wall. It was too soon from the first time he checked for there to actually have been a change. He was still between three and thirty-six.

'Bet I got the bad genes from Dad,' he thought with a frown.

The phone suddenly rang and Shawn dragged himself off of the couch and headed into the kitchen to grab it. Glancing at the caller ID, he muttered out loud, "Speak of the devil." before picking up the phone and saying in as normal a tone as he could, "Hey Dad. What's up?"

"You on your way over? The steaks are ready to go on the grill," Henry said.

Shawn mentally cursed. He had gotten so distracted with all of the tests and doctor's visits that he completely forgot about dinner plans with his father. He wondered for a moment if he should just cancel, he didn't really feel like socializing in general at the moment.

'He'll just ask questions if I do.'

'It'll be getting dark soon,' that small part of his mind reminded him quietly. 'Maybe you shouldn't...'

Pushing aside his slight unease at driving in the dark, Shawn said in his normally carefree tone, "Yeah, I'll be over in a bit. See you soon."

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That's all for chapter two. Not very eventful, I know, but it was necessary. Chapters after this will be jumping a bit further in time because the disease's progression is gradual and not an overnight thing.

Review please!