A/N: I know, I suck. I suck big time. I haven't updated in forever. But I got all distracted, failing classes and moving out and, ya know, life. And then the writers went on strike and I didn't watch Psych forever and I kinda don't have a TV anyway. But then I discovered the wonderful world of where you can buy episodes of TV shows - say…Psych - for two dollars each and I got to see the end of the season. (Who else thought Shawn looked weird with all that make-up in the 'I'm a Spanish actor, now' episode?) Anyway, I got back in the grove and I'm dedicating this chapter to anyone who's still reading this story even though, again, I suck.
Chapter Ten: My Brain, My Rules
Now…
"You know," Shawn came back from the memory easily, it was one he thought of from time to time anyway, "I've been on those things for so long now, would it really make a difference-"
"Don't go there." Gus snapped, tone eerily reminiscent of his one from that night oh so long ago. "Lassiter can't…you shouldn't…" he sighed deeply, starting over, "This is too important, Shawn. And you know it."
"Yeah," the other man admitted, and really he did know that. He knew he wouldn't stop taking the pills. Not for a long while, if ever. It wasn't that he thought he'd fall right back into that scary depressed place if he stopped, it was just…he didn't like it being close to him; that scary depressed place.
Because he knew that if he got off the drugs he wouldn't sink as low as he had been at eighteen, but he also knew that he wouldn't be as happy as he was now. He wouldn't be able to deal with his father on even a semi-regular basis, he wouldn't be as good at solving crimes, he might not even be okay with what he and Lassiter have. Or had. He'd be angry again.
In short, he just wouldn't be himself.
"There's nothing wrong with you," Gus had told him long ago, after he'd been taking the meds for a few months. "I mean, there is-"
"Gee, thanks, buddy." That hadn't been the comfort he'd been looking for.
"But," Gus went on sternly, "It's just like if you had a chronic illness or something that you needed medicine for. It's just physical. Something's physically wrong with your brain. It's not your fault."
It's not your fault, Gus had told him, and Shawn had believed it, truly believed it, never doubted it. Until the day Lassiter found those pills and walked out of his bedroom without making eye contact.
"So…what happened after that?" Gus sounded resigned. The other shoe had dropped but there were still so many questions he had left to get answers for. "And for the love of God, where are you?"
"'Love of God'?" Shawn quoted back, "Aren't you an atheist?"
"Shut up and answer the damn question."
"My, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, now didn't they?" Bickering with his bestest bud always made him perkier, no matter what the circumstance.
"Someone didn't wake up, Shawn." Gus fake-growled at him, "Someone sat though five hours of cat stories only to get back to their office and find out their best friend is missing."
"Dude, I'm not-"
"-then where the hell are you?" Gus interrupted loudly, "'Cause frankly, Shawn, it seems like a lot happened in the six and a half days I was gone and I'm now seriously considering implanting you with some kind of GPS locator chip so I never to worry about you up and vanishing on me again."
"I didn't vanish." Shawn spoke calmly, smiling a little. They tended to play off each other's emotions. When one was freaked the other was calm, and vice versa. Shawn had gone from reminiscent and almost sad to calm and hopeful as Gus had progressed from worried and protective to anxious and more anxious.
"Then where, the hell, are you?" Gus gritted out between clenched teeth.
Shawn rolled his eyes and sighed - playfully - but decided it was time to put his poor friend out of his misery. "Oh, fine." he humphed, "I was trying to lead up to a dramatic build, but if you really wanna ruin the surprise…"
"Ruin it, Shawn," Gus sounded half-relived, half-scared and half-annoyed - and no, numbers took on absolutely no meaning in the personal life of one Shawn Henry Spencer - "Please."
And without further ado, Shawn said simply, "Seattle."
There was a long, long pause that was really only a few moments but felt longer because Shawn had been expecting something along the lines of a quicker reaction. "Seattle?"
"Yup," Shawn admitted happily, almost forgetting for a moment about Lassiter and all that hadn't happened there. "You know, that big city where I sold hot dogs from a vendor for three months when I was eighteen."
"I know the city," Gus still seemed rather flabbergasted. "Tell me you didn't follow the robber guys there?"
"Huh," Shawn considered it, "Well, not really, I-"
"Wait a second," Gus intervened Shawn's explanation, "That was in one of Lassiter's messages. Damn, the last one on the machine. He said, 'I swear to God, Shawn if you followed that bastard I may have to kill you myself.'"
"Isn't he sweet?" Shawn cooed playfully, yet genuinely touched by the message, knowing it was Lassie's way of showing concern.
"Shawn…"
"Ah oh, warning tone,"
"Damn it, Shawn!"
"Dude, chill, take a breath," the calmer of the two insisted.
"Why should I?" The black man was mere moments away from a full on panicked-rant. "You're calling me from a damn hospital bed, aren't you?"
"Gus…" Shawn kept his voice level, "Seriously, time to breathe."
"And again I ask, why?" Gus snapped, "This is you we're talking about. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't think you're in a hospital or a jail cell or a crack house or a-"
"Because," Shawn finally interrupted his best friend's spiel, "Because Fred and George aren't the only people I know in Seattle ."
"Shawn what are you-" But this time Gus cut himself off, going deadly silent for a few moments before realizing that this story just took a genuinely interesting and unexpected turn and, had he been less focused on Shawn and thinking more like Shawn, he might have figured it all out before just now.
Instead, the half of the inseparable duo that was currently back in Santa Barbara just exhaled slowly. "Oh."
"Yeah," Shawn chuckled, half-amused, half-almost regretful and half-sheepish. "'Oh' about sums it up."
o0oo0o
Five Days Ago…
"You're sulking, Shawn."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Nuh uh."
"Then why haven't you gotten out of bed all damn day?"
"I'm tired."
"Are you dying?"
"Last I checked, no."
"Then you're not tired, it's not in your nature."
"Nature? Dude, am I like a wild animal now?"
"Yeah, a wild animal that only needs four hours of sleep every night."
"I blame it all on that year I worked the overnight shift."
"Didn't you love that?"
"Not the point."
"No, the point is, you're sulking because Lassiter left and you're too chicken to go see him."
"He's working a case."
"A case you could, and probably should, be involved in."
"You're encouraging this?"
"You're bored. And chicken."
"I'm not chicken."
"Then how come you didn't pick up the phone when Juliet called. Three times."
"How do you know she called?"
"Because-
"Because I'm having a conversation with Gus in my head! Ah!" Shawn growled to himself, pulling a pillow over his head like a melodramatic sixteen-year-old. "This is so stupid, I should just go to the station."
"Damn right you should."
"Shut up, you're the one who told me not to take any cases," Shawn grumbled, pulling the pillow off his face before he suffocated. "Besides, I'm all bruised and have a split lip from last night."
"You look like you were in a bar fight. Oh, wait…"
o0oo0o
Ping-Pong Time Sequence…
"You have conversations with me in your mind when you're alone?" Gus asked skeptically one eyebrow going up - Shawn was sure.
"Yeah, well," He shrugged, "Don't you…ya know, with me? Not yourself."
"No, Shawn," Gus snapped firmly, "In fact, I go to great lengths to keep you out of my mind."
"Come on, dude," the friend with the surfer-boy hair all but whined, "You've never been like…on a date or something, and she's sitting there, staring at you, the sun's setting over the beach in the background and you really, really wanna go in for the kiss, but you're just a little too chicken, or you think your breath smells or you're not sure if you remembered to brush your teeth this morning-"
"Shawn."
"But then you think, 'W.W.S.D.?' and you just go for it?" He ended his spiel hopeful and excited, smiling brightly.
"What would Shawn do?" The other man repeated. "Nice. Isn't it supposed to be 'What would Jesus do?'"
"I've heard it both ways." Shawn gave. "I've also heard 'W.W.T.B.F.C.D?'"
"The hell?"
"What would the Barefoot Contessa do." Shawn explained, grinning.
"That's stupid." Gus informed him dryly.
"Fine," Shawn huffed, "Ruin all my hopes and dreams."
"You can't even cook."
"Can too." Shawn exclaimed, insulted. "I make a mean pineapple upside down cake."
"Anything that comes out of an Easy-Bake Oven doesn't count."
"That's fair." Shawn decided, before pausing for a moment and realizing, "Dude, you totally made me forget where I was with the story."
"You were being a chicken about going to the station." Gus reminded him, Shawn went to great lengths in his own mind to not retort, remembering that this was indeed only the first time Gus had called him a chicken.
"Right, well, eventually I did go. Later that night. Much later." Shawn tried to make it sound casual.
"Like right before the Chief went home and everyone else was already gone so you wouldn't run into Lassiter, any of the rookies that heard your fight with your dad or even Juliet because she's a woman so gossiping comes natural to her and God only knows what she heard ?"
Damn.
"I took a really long shower."
Gus rolled his eyes, Shawn could sense it again. "Go on."
o0oo0o
When he got to the station, it wasn't the quiet, docile, end-of-the-day, casual hub-ub he'd been expecting.
Officers were running around in a flurry, papers were being passed back and forth, coffee was spilt all over the counter - and no one was yelling about it - phones were ringing, and Chief Vick was looking undeniably grim.
"What's going on here?" The fake-psychic approached his boss…type lady casually, clearly identifying himself as not adding to the stress of whatever was already going on.
"Mr. Spencer, I'm glad you're here."
"The spirits told me you might be needing some assistance." He shrugged casually, "What up?"
Vick just shook her head, looking half-disappointed and mostly angry. "Rodney Crandall escaped police custody approximately two hours ago."
End Chapter.