I'm ba-ack! :) Thank you so much to HamburgerLover25 for the review! Sorry if the first chapter was a bit slow, but I'm working on making the rest a little more interesting. This story takes place during season 4, so it starts off with Shawn and Abigail together (sort of, I guess, since she's in Uganda) but there will be some form of Shules. Cross my heart ;) Enjoy!
Chapter Two: Of Gruesome Deaths and Petty Theft
As Aria ran from the Psych office, all she could think about how idiotic she had been. Stuttering, biting her lip, making up a completely unbelievable cover story, running away like some criminal. She'd probably have to leave now; couldn't risk running into them again later. Damn. She'd been getting kind of attached to Santa Barbara. On the other hand, maybe it was better this way. I could go back to New York.
Even the thought made her want to collapse in exhaustion. One cross-country trip was bad enough. Two consecutive cross-country trips? Not happening.
She did glance at the window of the building on her way out. Psychic Detective Agency? She didn't believe any of that psychic crap - she'd seen the way Spencer had taken in her appearance, from her dirty shoes to her messy hairdo. And despite what she'd hoped, she knew she was lucky if she could pass for eighteen, let alone over twenty - it wouldn't have been hard for anyone to call her out on the age lie. But after returning to the library, she'd done some research on the place, and the results were impressive. Huddled in her usual corner in the back closet, she poured over the articles she'd printed out. Aw, they even have their own Wikipedia page - how cute. Over one hundred cases, solved. Psychic or not, this guy seemed to be good at catching people, people even the police were unable to find. She could use that kind of help. Or at least that kind of protection. Honestly, any kind of protection would be better than her current situation…
No. There was no point. She'd already drawn enough attention to herself, and now she'd have to go.
I could use some money, though, she thought, grabbing the clipboard, a sheet of looseleaf, and a pen from her bag. Now, where did I put those glasses?
The first thing Shawn thought when he and Gus arrived at the crime scene: Blood. So much blood; on the floor, on the walls, on the furniture. He didn't even need to turn around to know Gus had already gotten a running start out of the house.
"Shawn!" Juliet walked over, turning her head as Gus bolted past her. She looked at Shawn questioningly.
"Never mind him. So, what exactly happened here?" he said, waving his hands to indicate the mess around them.
She shuddered. "It's awful. Mother and daughter, forty two and fourteen. Tortured and killed, dead for approximately a day. We got an anonymous tip this morning, and the neighbors said they heard a scream earlier today. One woman said she looked out her window and saw someone running down the street, red shirt, hair hidden by a baseball cap, but she thought it was just some kids playing a prank."
Lassiter entered the room, walking carefully to avoid the chalk. "O'Hara, you filled him in?"
"Yeah, yeah," Shawn responded, waving Lassiter off. "But, if the blood's here, then...where are the bodies?"
"The whole house is like this, not just the entryway," Lassie answered. "Bodies in the living room. Straight ahead, first door to the right." He paused. "Where the hell is Guster?"
"Gus? He forgot to put on his Sea-Bands this morning." At that moment, Gus stumbled back into the foyer, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing deeply and bumping into everything in his way. "Gus! You're back! Come on, buddy." He stopped, remembering something, then turned back to face Juliet. "Wait, you got an anonymous tip? Saying what?"
"Um…" She checked her clipboard, flipping back a few pages. "It was a man's voice, saying that there was a dead body at eighteen twenty Burns Avenue, and that we go there immediately. We traced the call back to a pay phone a few blocks away." She looked back up. "Why?"
"Not sure." Shawn scratched his chin, grabbing Gus's arm and guiding him down the hallway.
"I don't get it. You didn't pick up on anything?"
Shawn threw his hands up in exasperation. "Man, I told you already, there was nothing there to pick up on." His phone rang again. "Chief? Again? Yes, we're coming." He looked up at Gus after hanging up, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "She said we're needed at the station?"
When they got there, Shawn was expecting maybe a new tip on the case, something like that. Instead, he was met with… "Dad?"
"Good, you made it." Henry turned back to the sketch artist. "No, the eyes were a little bigger...not that big! We're talking about a person here, not a cartoon…"
"Yeah, Chief said it was urgent, and I can certainly see why. Dad, I wouldn't have to keep bailing you out if you chose to wear shirts that weren't so…" he shuddered. "I mean, look at that thing! That should be a federal offense, at least."
"Very funny, Shawn," Henry responded dryly. "No, actually, I came to report a robbery."
"What?"
"Yeah, some girl showed up at my house some ten, fifteen minutes ago. Said she was selling candy bars for school or something. I went to get my wallet, searched the whole damn bedroom before I remembered I'd left it downstairs on the mantel, so I came back down. When I got there, she was gone, and so was my wallet." He glanced back down at the picture the artist was offering. "No, the chin was a little more rounded."
Shawn and Gus exchanged confused looks. "So...why are we here, exactly?"
"Well, I though you could help me. You still owe me." Henry grinned triumphantly, before looking at the sketch artist's work once more. "That's it! Close enough, anyway."
"I owe you? From what? I'm sti-" Out of the corner of his eye, Shawn caught a glimpse of the picture. "Wait, that girl stole your wallet?"
"Yes, Shawn, that is what I was saying-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Shawn raised a hand for silence. Big doe eyes, full lips, tousled hair pulled up and away from her face - aside from the thick framed, retro style glasses, the resemblance was uncanny. Glancing up, he saw recognition dawn on Gus's face. "Uh, dad? We'll get right on it."
"What? Shawn, wait - " Henry's protests were lost as the two men exited the station.
Shawn wasn't sure how hard finding Aria the Teenage Narcoleptic ("Kleptomaniac," Gus corrected him. Whatever, he'd heard it both ways) would be. He most definitely, however, hadn't expected to walk into the Psych office the next morning and find her sitting on the couch again, waiting for them.
Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, a beat-up backpack flung on the cushion next to her, wide eyes glued to them as they entered the office. "Hi."
Gus eyed her warily. "Uh, Shawn, I don't think…"
"So...Aria, was it?" He waited for the girl to nod before continuing. "So, first things first. Where's the wallet?"
"What wallet?" she responded, a look of genuine befuddlement on her face.
Shawn rolled his eyes before flopping down on a chair in front of her. "You pretended to be selling candy bars to a follicly challenged old man yesterday, he went to get his wallet before realizing it was in the entryway, and when he came back, both you and the wallet were gone. So...where did it go?"
She raised her hands in submission. "Follicly what? And yes, I was going around selling candy bars for Girl Scouts. You know, the Crunch bars that are flavored like Thin Mints? I did, but I don't know about any wallet, I swear. I left because the man in question disappeared without saying anything and then didn't come back within the next ten minutes. Honest-to-God, I didn't steal anyone's wallet, okay?" She stopped mid-ramble, inhaling deeply. "Look, I just wanted to apologize again for any inconvenience I may have caused this morning. The way I ran out was incredibly rude, and you didn't deserve that, so..."
Gus's head perked up. "You're a Girl Scout? Here? In Santa Barbara?"
"Mm-hm."
"What's your troop number?"
"Four seven zero zero," she responded smoothly.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at her triumphantly. "Ha! There is no troop four seven zero zero in Santa Barbara."
"Yes there is," she laughed, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand, but Gus persisted.
"Last week, my place of business held a Girl Scout workshop. Every troop in the area was sent a letter of invitation, and not one single one of them began with a four," he gloated.
"Yes, Gus! You are on fire!" The two men high-fived each other. Shawn turned back to face the girl on the couch. "I knew there was no way you were telling the truth. And even if you can somehow explain that, how about all of the stuff from before?"
"Yeah," Gus agreed...and then shook his head again. "Wait, what?"
Shawn's shoulders drooped. "Gus, work with me here! Okay, first of all, no normal teenage girl walks on a boardwalk alone at night without her phone. No teenage girl's parents would be fine with that! Plus, do you see her hair?" He reached over and gingerly picked up her ponytail between two fingers.
Aria tried vainly to pull away. "Excuse me?" she said, offended.
"Yeah, it's pulled back, like before."
He raised a finger. "But it's tangled. Her jeans have holes in them, and not in the stupid 'fashionable' ripped-on-purpose way-"
"Shawn, you have a pair of ripped jeans-"
"Irrelevant. She has no nail polish, or makeup, her nails are all raggedy, and do you see how badly her clothes fit? They're practically hanging off her!"
"Hello!" Aria interrupted. "Are you going to accept my apology or are you just going to keep on dissecting my appearance?"
"Neither. I'm done breaking it down for Gus; now, I have some questions for you. One, did you ran away from home?"
"No."
"Do you live nearby? What's your last name?"
"No!"
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "No to what?"
"Either, both! And I don't have a last name. I…" She sighed. She was out of excuses, out of answers, out of time, and out of the energy it took to keep herself thinking straight. "I'm homeless. Born and bred. My mom died last year of...pneumonia, and my dad died before I was born. I've been on my own ever since." Holy crap, why did I just tell him all of that? Idiot! She hadn't told him everything, not by a long shot, but she'd still said too much. When she spoke again, she sounded panicked. "Look, please don't report me. Please. I've seen my fair share of foster kids, I don't want a lifetime of being shunted between families. I'd rather have no family then that. Just let me go."
To her surprise, they didn't say anything. Instead, they turned their heads back, away from her, and began whispering to each other. And for some reason, she didn't leave. She just stood there and waited until their attention was back on her.
"Alright," said Shawn. "We have a proposal for you, Miss..." He stopped, looking at her expectantly.
"I told you, I don't have a last name. Aria is fine."
"Aria," interrupted Gus. "We work very closely with the police. You can stay with us until we can take you to the station later, and we'll see to it that you end up in a good home. That sounds reasonable, right?"
"Um, no? I have a better idea: you let me go, forget you ever saw me, I'll be out of Santa Barbara by tomorrow, and we part ways as unlikely friends," she suggested, hope in her voice.
"Sorry, no can do."
"Look, Shawn - Mr. Spencer - if you just forget we ever met, no one will be the wiser. Cool?"
"Nope." Shawn picked up a rubber ball off the desk and began tossing it from hand to hand.
"Well, um, I'm fifteen. Almost sixteen. I'll be a legal adult in, like, two years, and I've already been taking care of myself for a while now, so I don't need a babysitter, or a new home." She paused for a moment, considering. "Actually, I don't even know if I'll be legal."
"Huh?" The two men exchanged a confused look. "What do you mean?" asked Shawn.
"My parents were homeless, too. As far as I know, I don't have any legal records, so as far as the government is concerned, I don't exist. Which is why bringing me to 'the station,' as you call it," she said, making air quotes, "would just create a whole new situation, which would be a whole lot messier than pretending this never happened." She saw the papers strewn haphazardly across one of the desks - Shawn's, if she had to guess; he seemed much more laid-back than Gus - and continued, "Just think of all that paperwork. I get the feeling you guys don't really like paperwork."
"How can you tell?"
She snorted. "You claim to be the psychic, you tell me. The point is, it would be an unnecessary hassle, so let's not."
"Aria," Gus said kindly, "Look. I understand the police must seem frightening from your point of view, but we have to take into consideration that a fifteen year old girl, by herself...it doesn't seem likely that you'd be able to survive out there."
"Out there? It's a city, not a jungle."
"I've heard it both ways," Shawn cut in. "Look, Gus…" They began whispering again. Aria could just make out a few phrases:
"Let her stay…"
"Should still tell…"
"Come on, man...no harm…" Their discussion was interrupted by a vibrating noise. Shawn pulled out his phone and answered. "Jules? It's not really a great time...all right, we'll be there, I just need ten minutes. Bye." He hung up, then turned to the two others. "Okay, change of plans. Gus, Jules just called, another double homicide. We can't just let you go, Aria, no buts, but if you can take a shower in two minutes, we'll stop at my apartment, and get you some clean clothes, and you can come with us. We'll just tell them you're my little cousin or something."
"Um, no offense, but we look nothing alike."
"Trust me, they'll buy it. People always take lies better than the truth, for some bizarre reason."
"Shawn, I don't think-" Gus objected.
"Gus! Don't be Andie's dress from Pretty In Pink."
"Which one?" Aria asked.
"What?"
"Which dress? From Pretty In Pink? 'Cause none of those dresses were really...um...aesthetically pleasing, to put it nicely."
"You're homeless! How do you know Pretty In Pink?"
"Who doesn't know Pretty In Pink? What kind of uncultured swine do you think I am? Don't answer that," she said hastily. "And...I guess I don't have a choice but to come with you guys, do I?"
"Nope." Shawn held out a hand, and Aria looked at it for a long, long moment.
This is a bad idea.
Yeah, it was, but she'd gotten herself into this situation. The way she figured it, she'd just have to play along until she could find a way out.
She grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. Well, here we go.
"Fine. It's a deal."
So, obviously, you guys aren't obligated to review...but it would make me really happy if you did...Either way, until next time! :)
xoxo,
DoeEyedDarling