I do not own Psych nor NCIS in any way.


"My kid did not try to 'off' himself!" Henry stormed angrily through his living room and to the kitchen. He snatched a cold beer out of the fridge and slammed the door shut so hard it bounced back open. The old man growled and kicked it closed. Blazing eyes turned onto Shawn's lifelong friend. "You're all just falling into whatever game Shawn's decided to play this time so he can get your pity. If you would stop over analyzing his actions you'd see what a manipulating idiot Shawn really is. I raised him, I lived with him, and I know when he's just playing around to get attention. He was probably having some sort of 'vision' and couldn't explain his way out of the mess he'd created. I'm surprised he hasn't called me yet to bail him out."

"I don't think Shawn was pretending this time," Gus stated.

"Gus, you of all people should know that—"

"When Lassiter and I got to the roof Shawn's eyes were red. He'd been crying!" Gus blurted out. Those words made his heart clench. "I do know Shawn, he's like a brother to me, and I know that the only time I've seen him that bad was when his mom walked out. He might fake it sometimes, but I think this time it was real." Henry stood in shocked silence for a moment, crossing and uncrossing his arms uncomfortably as Gus continued. "Look, I know that you don't want to think that Shawn would ever try—" Gus swallowed hard, unable to form the words that he'd pushed to the deepest depths of his mind. "But he did. He tried to…to kill himself and I think he needs to hear from you."

"Where is he?" Gus seemed startled at the sudden change of tone from Henry. His harsh demanding voice had become lost and a new, softer one had surfaced. "Where did they take my son?"

"Weston," Gus answered.

Henry nodded and stood, not bothering to say anything else to his son's friend as he made his way upstairs to the attic.


Why?

That was the billion-dollar question that weighed his mind, causing him to lose precious beauty sleep. Why was he here? The darkness that had consumed him was gone now leaving him as normal as he had been before, and for all these people knew he was happy and just trying to overcome his psychic issue. Only he and his doctor knew better.

God, it was only the third day and his legs were twitching with the need to move, to run, to do something other than be babysat and play board games. What was worse is that his legs weren't the only things that were restless. His mind was going wild trying to connect everything, to figure out how he got from relaxing in the Psych office to being forced into this hell, but every time he seemed to come close to a breakthrough his body physically blocked him. His chest clenched tight, his eyes would burn, and the key he'd attempted to use to unlock the darker side of his mind was rejected, causing him to feel that his food would be revisiting him if he tried again.

Having the whole weekend just to think…he'd rather bash his head into a wall until he passed out. His doctor wouldn't be here until Monday to hear about it anyway, and the staff was at its bare minimum.

He decided on making a call instead.

"Jules!" Shawn cried excitedly. He bounced happily on his end even though he knew she couldn't see it. "I just wanted to check up on my very special lady. How are you doing? Are you at home? What are you wearing?"

He heard an over-exaggerated sigh, and Juliet did her best to sound annoyed over her obvious giddiness at his call. "Shawn, it's my day off. I'm in my PJs, eating ice cream like a slob, and watching NCIS reruns."

"Ice cream? Jules, you only eat ice cream when you're having a bad day." Shawn frowned and leaned heavily against the wall next to the phone. His brows furrowed deeply. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

A shaky breath filtered through the speaker, and then a small laugh. "Well my boyfriend isn't here and tonight was supposed to be a date night."

"Oh, sweetheart…I'm so, so sorry." Shawn closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself. She was crying, he could tell by how her breaths began to hitch.

"It's okay, Shawn. Don't worry about me. I want you to worry about yourself and getting better." Juliet sniffled and then attempted to gain control of her quivering voice. "T-This is a terrible episode."

Shawn chuckled, "Tell me about it? In detail Jules! I've seen every episode so if you skim on me I will know and I promise you will be randomly Rick-rolled for a month after I'm out of here." He heard her open her mouth to speak but her cut her off quickly. "Jules, I'm not joking. You know I'll do it. I'll even bring Lassie in on it to add to the miserable factor. He'll complain to you about it for weeks."

"That might make it worth skimming a few details," Juliet smiled. She cleared her throat and then began. "Well…Tony just got back from sick leave a week earlier than he was supposed to and everyone's ignoring him except for Gibbs…"


Ending that phone call was probably one of his worst experiences so far, and that included when his fellow 'inmates' forced everyone to watch "Eat. Pray. Love"…twice in one night followed by some strange meditation video. He'd tried to escape to save Princess Peach on his Gameboy but got it confiscated when a nurse came in his room to check on him. Now that he thought about it, he'd have to ask Jules to let him borrow hers when she comes to visit.

So, now he sat watching everyone enjoy their visiting hours while he sat alone. Juliet refused to come for some vague reason. All he knew was that it involved a call from Gus. He hadn't thought much of it until a familiar balding figure stepped through the doors.

"Dad?" Shawn blinked. He glanced around them, almost scared to sit down without proper supervision. "Um...hey? How's it like on the outside? Did you see me on the news? The got my good side don't you think? Although the picture they used for me looked more like a mug shot than anything, but the orderlies turned off the TV before I could get a good look. Something about patients not being able to watch certain channels because they're too violent. C'mon son, the news isn't violent!"

"Are you done?"

"I could go on and on." The younger Spencer leaned back in his chair. "For example, did you know the founder of this place was a recovering drug addict? It didn't work. He ended up having to enroll himself in one of his own treatment programs."

"Kiddo, I have a badge and all day to waste sitting here listening to you go on about garbage. So keep talking, my visiting hours won't be ending when everyone else's does."

"Damn it, dad. What?" Shawn frowned and threw his hands in the air. "What did you come here for? If it's to give me a speech then you can save it. I don't know how many 'what the hell were you thinking' speeches I've gotten in the past few days I've been here, but you know what dad I'm up for another. Go ahead, lay it on me."

"They took your necklace," Henry pointed, carefully avoiding Shawn's small explosion.

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you've got one of these." He flashed his dad a red medical bracelet on his wrist. "I asked for a nicer color but they kept saying no. The nurse wouldn't even draw a mini pineapple on it for me. I guess it'd be weird to have a red pineapple though."

Henry ran a rough hand over his face with a sigh. "Suicide watch."

"Is that what it means?" Shawn asked with a hollow laugh and a glare towards his father. "And here I thought it meant something more interesting, like the chance to meet Jackie Chan on the red carpet." His lips formed into a small pout. "I can't even go outside with everyone else when they go for fresh air. I have to pay people to bring me proof of outside life."

"You've only been in here for less than a week, Shawn." Henry pointed out bluntly.

"That doesn't mean I don't miss the sunlight! I'm not a vampire dad."

"Here." A soft, roughly loved teddy bear was thrust into Shawn's hands.

"Mr. Bangles," Shawn gasped, holding him close like an overprotective child.

"I still can't believe you named him that," Henry grunted.

Shawn laughed, sincere this time. "I wouldn't have if you hadn't ripped off the name tag."

"I kept telling you that Bangladesh was the country where he was made, Shawn! Not his name! So what do you do? You name him Bangles anyway. You never listen to me!"

"Mr. Bangles from Bangladesh," Shawn sang and lifted him in the air to do a short dance. "Thanks dad." He then noticed that his dad had made a move to stand. This caused Shawn to flounder in confusion. His head spun around. Visiting hours were still going, at least half an hour left. "Wait, no speech? No questions?"

Henry threw his son a quick look back before shaking his head and allowing the orderlies to unlock the door for him. "Tell me when you're ready, kid."


Why?

Lights out, no TV, games had to be put away, everyone's shuffling off to their rooms to sleep except for him.

Why am I here?

Well, he knew that answer…sort of. Shawn clenched his eyes shut and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, dropping his head to rest in his hands. The faster he figured things out the faster he could get back to Jules.

He gulped. I tried to jump. A knot of tension left his body at that elephant finally being acknowledged. The residue of fear from that night clawed at his throat. Oh my god I tried to jump. Shawn took a few deep breaths as he came to terms with that fact, but now there was another thing bothering him. A small nagging voice somewhere was disappointed. Tried is the keyword. Tried and failed, just like usual. And in an instant he shut his brain down, standing and rushing to go to bed. He couldn't have been any more enthusiastic about shutting his brain off and going to sleep in his life.

Maybe he did need help. It would be great if he just knew how to ask for it.


Monday morning, Shawn sat alone idly shuffling and re-shuffling a deck of cards. As soon as sunlight hit his eyes he'd jumped out of bed, much to the surprise of the staff who had been expecting at least a few more hours of quiet before everyone else woke up. Before the call for breakfast Shawn managed to: reorganize the activities closet, solve every puzzle, find the missing pieces for said puzzles, alphabetize the movie collection, and help the orderlies wipe down tables for breakfast.

"Mr. Spencer?" His assigned nurse for the day questioned.

"Shawn," he promptly corrected. His foot tapped wildly under the table and his card shuffling grew a tad hastier.

"Sorry, Shawn," she fixed with a worried smile. The woman bent down slightly to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I heard you've been quite active this morning."

Shawn chuckled and paused his mindless movements to make eye contact with her. He flashed her a self-assured smile. "I'm just pumped that it's Monday! So pumped that I could do a shirtless push-up. Only one though, I'm still working on getting to two." He raised his arms and flexed them poorly. "Until then, you can take a picture and keep it in that weird human monitoring cubicle you aliens call the 'Nurses Station'. I mean, c'mon son, everyone should admire this sexy sexiness I have going on. Take some pictures and admire my perfect bod, but no touching! Touching is exclusive to my very beautiful and very sparkly girlfriend."

This drew a laugh from the worried nurse. "Please keep your shirt on Shawn. We wouldn't want your girlfriend getting jealous." He snorted at her response and turned back to his deck of cards. Like before, he shuffled and re-shuffled them but this time with less gusto as if the fast forward button he'd previously been on had been reset to just play. "How are you feeling today?"

The fake psychic shrugged his shoulders. "Great! So good I could be released today!"

"Nice try," the nurse shook her head. "You know…if you want to talk…"

"Talk? Hmm, what did you think about The Avengers? Because personally I thought—"

"About that night." Shawn froze at her words and his muscles wound so tight that his body began to draw into itself. The nurse shuffled nervously beside him. "Your doctor and therapists aren't the only one's who can help. Us nurses aren't around just to hand out medicine, you know."

"Really? And here I was thinking that nurses became nurses for the drugs and not for the other half of their job." He snorted.

"Not all nurses can be drug addicts."

"What about House? He's a doctor and he's a drug addict. Does that mean Dr. Thatcher is too?" Shawn questioned sarcastically.

"No, he is not." The nurse gave him a strained smile, clearly getting annoyed at his tactics. "Just know that you can talk to us."

Shawn hummed to himself and, muscles still tense, went back to his cards. The next time someone called for him he merely turned his chair away and continued on, until the good doctor began seeing patients. An already restless Shawn raced passed the staff and slammed open Thatcher's door.

The door flew back into the wall with a loud bang, causing the doctor to jump out of his chair and to his feet. He blinked in confusion and then watched as the young psychic detective stormed in with a huff, only deflating once he found his favorite spot on the couch. Once again, he hugged a pillow to his chest, tighter than last time.

"I hate it here," Shawn ground out through clenched teeth.

"Shawn, I wasn't expecting you until two—"

"I can't stop thinking," he growled, glaring at the wall ahead of him rather than the doctor. "I can't stop thinking and it's because I'm in here! And now that they showed my face on the news everyone's starting to figure it out."

"You guys aren't allowed to watch the news."

"They were channel flipping and my face popped up," Shawn grumbled hopelessly into his pillow friend.

"And what are they figuring out, Shawn?"

Shawn groaned and lifted the pillow so he could speak clearly. "That my psychic vision led me to the roof and almost made me jump."

Thatcher let out a long sigh. "I'm sure when you say 'psychic vision' you actually mean to say 'depression'."

"Me? Depressed? Yeah right." Shawn laughed but it sounded unsure and held a nervous edge. He tried to crack a joke. "As depressed as one of those wacky waving arm men outside car dealerships. Have you seen those things? I love 'em."

Since he suspected his unexpected patient wouldn't be leaving any time soon, Thatcher decided to close the door and take a seat. Honestly, this was the most he'd ever gotten out of Shawn about the subject at hand rather than about TV shows and movies. His fingers twitched with need to grab his notebook, but quickly drew back when he saw Shawn watching him, daring him to do it.

"Depression is completely normal," Thatcher said, moving to crossing his legs and facing Shawn fully instead of taking notes. "Everyone has bouts of it from time to time."

"Not everyone tries to jump off a building," Shawn grumbled under his breath.

"Hmm?"

"Look can you get me out of here? I'm not crazy but I will be soon if I have to stay."

"You're stuck with us for a while, Shawn. Especially since you decided to skip breakfast and morning therapy."

"Oh come on! You were waiting for me to screw up weren't you?" Shawn spat, bolting up into an enraged stance. He began to pace around the room, eyes dark with growing frustration. His body shook with suppressed energy that ached to be released and the closest thing he had was his voice or his strength. Knocking around and breaking things in a doctor's office probably wouldn't be good on his record right now and biting his tongue was beginning to hurt.

"What," Shawn seethed. "Will get me out of here the fastest?"

"Medication." Thatcher answered almost immediately. "Right now you would probably do best on depression and anxiety medication. The anxiety medication might help keep one of these events from happening again. I'd really like to keep my door intact."

"Medication?" Shawn's nose scrunched up and he tried the word a few more times on his lips. No matter how many times he tried it, it still sounded wrong. If it got him out and back to Juliet faster though, he would…try. He took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge. "Okay, what are we talking about? Mind you, my friend Magic Head McGee is an expert on drugs. Did you know he sells them to people? That's how he got his car."

Thatcher's brow rose and he gave Shawn a long look before turning to his computer. "The medications I'm giving you now aren't the type you find on the street…usually. I'm afraid your friend's expertise will be wasted."

Shawn choked back a laugh. "Don't be silly Mr.T! My Gussy Puss isn't into street drugs. He sells his kind of drugs to people like you."

"A rep," the doctor stated flatly, holding back the urge to roll his eyes at the way Shawn described his friend. He shook his head and began the process to activate Shawn's medication trial. "Two different jobs, Mr. Spencer, and in some ways two different worlds entirely." Thatcher swiveled around in his chair to face Shawn. "Now, let's talk about possible side-effects, shall we?"


Another chapter done~ I hope you like this one, I'm much happier with this one than the last. I think I enjoy writing out of control Shawn far too much. Oh! NCIS fans! The episode that I briefly mentioned in this chapter is actually pretty damn good. I just chose the first episode I saw in my boxset and rolled with it. It's not terrible, watch it! Season 2!

Any thoughts, comments, suggestions, those are all welcome and encouraged! Especially since this is my last pre-written chapter...