Hey, there! Nice to see you again. :) Big hugs to Paw for the review! *presents Paw with pineapple upside down cake* I'm glad you liked the previous chapter. This chapter has a little scene, originally written as a oneshot, that I thought was a cute (albeit short) way to show Shawn and Aria's interactions after a month or two of living as a family, and I'm looking forward to exploring the changing dynamic between them (and the rest of the characters) as the plot moves forward. :) Enjoy!

Chapter Eight: An Unpleasant Surprise

Flashback #2

One Year Ago

He had followed them for a month, observing their routine of life, the patterns in which they traveled around and returned to the same parks, the same dumpsters, the same subway tunnels, like two moons waxing and waning. Capturing them had been almost painfully easy; he'd merely snuck up behind Callie with chloroform while the two were sleeping one night. The daughter slept through the attack, but he chloroformed her as well before throwing her in the van. Just to be on the safe side.

Child's play, really.

The mother opened her eyes first. There was sufficient light for her to see clearly, but she didn't recognize him immediately. When she finally did, she whispered weakly, "You," pointing at him in accusation as she tried to shield her unconscious daughter with her body. "You're the man from the subway! You gave us money..."

"Callie, Callie, Callie," he chuckled. "Like most of the world's successful individuals, I never do anything for others without getting something in return."

"But why...why me? Why us?"

"Callie. I always get what I want. And I wanted you. It's so unfortunate your daughter got roped into this, but I can't have one of you and not the other. But we'll have time later to talk. I'll leave you to tend to the girl, for now." He left so swiftly, Callie had no time to ask any more questions.

Once he was gone, leaving the scent of jasmine flowers behind him, she shook her daughter's shoulders gently. "Aria," she whispered urgently. "Wake up, sweetie."

After a few seconds, Aria's eyes fluttered open. "Mom? What - how..."

She grabbed the girl and held her close, the way she had when she was a baby, so tightly that Aria could feel her mother's heart against her own, both pulsing at the same tempo. "Don't worry, sweetie. We're going to get out of here. I promise."

Present Day

"Shawn!" Aria yelled, shutting the fridge door. "We're all out of peanut butter! And pineapple juice!"

"Alright, I'll pick it up later." Shawn ambled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Right, so I should ask Gus to get it. Actually, I was gonna ask if I could walk down to the grocery store after school, anyway. I need some stuff."

"Stuff?" He yawned. "What kind of stuff?"

Aria looked uncomfortable. "Um...stuff stuff? Supplies. Stuff that I need that I'd rather get myself."

"Okay. So...what kind of stuff?" He scratched his head.

"Nevermind." She grabbed two waffles and shoved them in the toaster oven.

"What - Aria, you can't just tell me you need mysterious stuff and then not tell me what it is! You can't torture me like this!"

"Trust me, you'd rather not know."

"But…"

She sighed. "It's girl stuff," she finally explained, turning around to face him.

"Ohhhh," he said, nodding his head. He paused for a minute. "Nope, still don't get it."

"It's...it's just stuff, okay? It's stuff I'll be needing every month, too, so you'd better get used to the secrecy."

"Wait!" he exclaimed. Aria raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Silver bullets! Or chains! You're a werewolf and you need to be able to protect the world from yourself!"

"Oh my God, Shawn. You seriously haven't figured it out?"

"...Was I supposed to?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...was I at least getting warmer with the werewolf thing?"

Aria threw her hands up in the air. "I give up." Shoving a waffle in her mouth, she grabbed her books and bag and headed for the door. "See you later!"

It had been two months since she'd started school, and Aria still hadn't tired of walking back and forth every day. They'd never really been able to afford taxis or subway rides back in New York, and it wasn't like they had been rushing to get anywhere. The weather in Santa Barbara was much better than the smoke and heat of the city in summer, but the sensation of walking, bouncing slightly with each step, the concrete level and solid beneath her feet, was the same no matter what. If she closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, it was easy to pretend that it was any other day, that she was back in New York with Mom strolling along besides her. She half expected it to be real, but then she'd open her eyes and see the boardwalk, smell the clean, salty air, and the illusion would vanish.

It was getting easier. She still missed Mom, missed her old life, but every day the pain was a little less. The daily killings had, for some reason, ceased a month earlier. And with each day that passed without Him showing up, she felt a little safer, the constant paranoia giving way to a sense of calm and ease. She was finally safe. She finally had a life.

And it wasn't a bad life, either. She'd made one or two friends, joined the drama club and show choir, and steered clear of anything resembling organized sports, except in gym, which she couldn't do anything about, despite her pleas to Shawn for a forged doctor's note. She soon found that some subjects made sense - like evolution - and some didn't - hello, trigonometry - but that, in the end, complaining about her math teacher to Shawn over dinner wasn't going to keep her from failing a pop quiz the next day. Her new bedroom - a.k.a. Shawn's walk-in closet - although small, was actually kind of cozy, in a way, with shelves on the walls where she kept her new clothes and books she'd found in Henry's attic.

She even had a cell phone, an unfamiliar item, complete with a little green Psych iPhone case donated by Shawn and Gus. The two spent over an hour teaching her the various uses and settings, how to text people, how to create contacts for them and her school friends. They hadn't told her, however, what to do in the event of a call from "Private Caller," a name which was now flashing across her screen.

Huh. Do I pick up? Would it be rude to ignore it? She swiped the screen to answer, lifting the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, little bird. Long time no talk," purred the voice on the other end.

Chills immediately spread across her body. Because she'd heard that voice before. Once two years ago, and again a year later.

And, as a result, Mom was now dead.

THE END

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Just kidding! AND I KNOW IT'S KIND OF SHORT AND A CLIFFHANGER AND I'M SORRY AND PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. *ducks to avoid flying pineapples* Second week of school (HOMEWORKHOMEWORKHOMEWORK EATS UP MY LIFE) + memorizing lines and blocking for the Countess of Roussillon +memorizing choir music + trying to figure out how to run the Costumes division of my school drama program because last year's seniors didn't really teach us how to do so, so now I, who have only been in the program for one year so far, has to make it up as I go along, so yeah + trying to memorize a Chopin etude (DEATH TO C SHARP MINOR) + cold/laryngitis/whatever-the-heck-causes-a-sore-throat-and-headache = a very run-down DoeEyedDarling.

BUT, since this chapter is fairly short, expect another one soon.

As always, reviews are beautiful things, and constructive criticism is always welcome! I would love to get any feedback as to how I can improve my writing. :)

xoxo,

DoeEyedDarling