Epilogue – The Truth about My Lie

Shawn knew where he was without opening his eyes. He would have expected at least a moment of disorientation, foggy memories and nausea, but except for the surprisingly dull pain in his shoulder and skull and a certain drowsiness, all of which were probably directly related to top-shelf pain medication, he could not find fault with his situation. Everything around him was soft, clean and dry, and a delicate hand was holding his. He also clearly remembered what had happened, and felt fully capable of appreciating that it was over. He finally opened his eyes and noted with some astonishment that the hospital room was practically stuffed with people. Well, maybe not stuffed, but there was, as expected, Juliet attached to the delicate hand, and his father and Gus slumped on chairs that did not look in the least comfortable. What totally threw him, though, was the ice-blue look cast at him by a slim figure in a grey suit standing in the farthermost corner of the room. It was Lassiter. Before he had seen him, Shawn had intended to say something memorable or, in consideration of Juliet's sitting by his bedside, at least something cute, but all that came out was: "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting to pick up O'Hara."

"Couldn't you have waited outside? No, that's not what I meant. Don't be so gruffy. I'm touched that you'd stand guard by an injured man's bed."

Lassiter stepped closer. "How?" he asked. "How could you know about the Luger?"

"The who?"

"The gun. Who told you about it?"

"The bullet did." He let go of Juliet's hand and pointed at his shoulder. "What? You of all people should know that firearms do tell stories. Yeah, they talk to each other, and if there's nobody else around, they'll even talk to their ammunition. Although they don't really take the little urchins seriously, but hey, what don't you do when you're lonely. And man, that fake gun surely was the talk of the town recently."

"I give up." Lassiter shook his head. "I'll be outside," he said to Juliet. "And I just want to let you both know that you two did a …" His expression became somewhat pained, "good job out there." His look turned sinister. "And, Spencer – if you're interested in some advice from me, go ask your friend Guster what I told him about screwing it up."

Shawn looked at Gus, who shook his head and quickly looked the other way.

"Come back later, Lassie," he called after the detective. "I'll give you the story in a nutshell. And bring…", the door fell shut. "I was going to say, bring pretzels. How are you doing?" Shawn asked Juliet, who looked tired out, with a blanket around her shoulders, but her hair and clothes dry again.

"I'm fine," she replied. "A few stitches, that's all. They're letting me go home. I just wanted to see that you're okay."

Henry and Gus stood up and approached the bed.

"Me too," said Gus. "But I've got to go now. I finally got that appointment with the new internist in Bel Air, and I think it's gonna pay for our new laptop."

"Sweet. Go get him."

Gus gave him a fist-bump goodbye, smiled at Juliet and left.

Shawn sighed. "Jules, I'm kind of thirsty. Could you get me some water, please?"

"Shawn, you're on a drip," his father reminded him.

"But my mouth is dry. And I'm hungry, too. I could go for something sweet right now."

Juliet stood up. "I could use a coffee anyway. I'll be right back. Would you like anything?" She looked at Henry, who returned a puzzled glance.

"Well, if you're getting coffee anyway…"

"I'll bring two." She kissed Shawn on the forehead. "See you in a minute."

After the door had closed behind her, Henry rolled his eyes. "Okay, what's this about? Water and a snack? Why did you want Juliet out of the room?"

Shawn remained silent for a second, gathering his thoughts. "When we were out there, I wanted to tell her everything," he then said lowly.

His father did not need to ask what 'everything' meant. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

"We kind of got interrupted. Repeatedly. Anyway, it seemed important back there, even crucial."

"And now it doesn't anymore?"

"It does. But in the face of death, it's way easier to come out with the complicated stuff."

"You need to tell her, son. You can't base your relationship on a lie."

"Base, what? No. What we have has nothing to do with my being a psychic."

"Pretending to be."

"Whatever. That's not why she likes me. Nobody likes a psychic. We're like mimes. People may applaud, but deep inside, they're creeped out by us."

"You're not gonna get out of this one by making up weird comparisons. She thinks you had supernatural abilities, and you're right, in the end she probably won't care if it's true. I'm pretty sure she'll like you just as much for being a bright young man with deductive skills that outclass some merited police officers who I've known, for being there when she needs you, for having your heart in the right spot, and, why the hell not, even for riding that stupid motorcycle." Henry firmly put his index finger on Shawn's chest. "But this isn't about why she likes you, right? This is about the job, isn't it? You're scared that they'll kick you out, that you'll be back at where you were five years ago. Out there without a goal in your life, without a place where you can be useful."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right. And you know what? I have every right to be scared. What am I gonna do if they don't let me go on? You think they're going to let me keep Psych? I don't think so. Lassie will be thrilled to nail me for fraud, even though they'll probably let me get off with a slap on the wrist considering what I've done for them. But what am I supposed to do then? Sure, I could work at a Belgian waffle house, or I could offer pedicab rides through downtown L.A. – but I like what I'm doing right now. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want to go back to running around skipping from one random job to another."

Henry smiled. "Looks like you're finally growing up."

"And where does that get me? Everything was just fine the way it was. If I tell Jules the truth, it'll all start falling apart."

"That's assuming she won't keep it to herself."

"She has to tell Lassie, or even Chief Vick. She wouldn't be the fine cop that she is if she didn't tell at least one of them."

Henry gently patted Shawn on his sound shoulder. "I knew the truth from the beginning. And I didn't give you away. That's because I knew you weren't going to screw it. Don't you think she might have just as much faith in you?"

"That is probably the toughest question you have ever asked me, and you've set the bar pretty high."

"Think about it. You don't want her to find out five years into a relationship. And, more importantly, I can see that you want her to know. Relationships need secrets, but if there is one thing you need to share with her, it's this. You need to trust her. How else is she supposed to trust you?" The door was opened, and Juliet came back inside with two paper cups filled with coffee, a bottle of water and a small box with donuts. "I'll go home," Henry said. "Catch up on some sleep, take a shower. I'll be back tonight."

"Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Shawn. Thanks, Juliet." He took his coffee, nodded to her and left.

Juliet put her coffee and the donuts on the bedside table and opened the water bottle. "Here." She offered it to Shawn. He sipped, then slowly put the bottle down.

"Do you trust me?" he asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. What's going on?"

"I mean, do you really trust me? Do you believe that whatever I do or have done, I would never mean to harm you, and all I want is for you to be happy?"

"Okay, now you're starting to scare me. Where are you going with this?"

"I just want you to know that you can trust me with your life."

She stroked his cheek. "I've done that, Shawn. More than once, actually. And I don't regret it."

"Thank you. Please know that this is never going to change. Whatever happens, I'll be there for you." He drew a deep breath and looked into her eyes. "Jules, there's something I need to tell you."