Brittle Balance
Epilogue: Friday Farewells
The warm light shone through the open window, casting morning shadows across the square room. Birds could be heard chirping in a tall oak tree just outside, singing a beautiful high-pitched melody. Their chorus drifted to the ears of Shawn Spencer, whose head lay cushioned on the tough hospital pillow. He was awake, despite his closed eyes and relaxed expression; the only proof that he was aware of his surroundings was the rhythmic bouncing of his right foot, tapping out an inaudible beat to the tweeting tune.
It was a different sound, a light knock on the door, which finally caused his eyes to open. There, framed in the doorway, was Juliet – a stuffed white paper bag in her hand and a hesitant smile gracing her perfect face. Shawn couldn't resist his own grin in return.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she greeted sweetly.
"Hey, you," Shawn whispered, pulling himself up to a sitting position. "What are you doing here so early?"
"Well, you're being released today," Juliet said, walking into the room to stand next to the bed. "I have to go to work in an hour, but I thought I could be the first one to see you. I did tell you, didn't I? That after the original Shawn was found and safe, I would come back to see you?"
Shawn nodded, remembering all too well the conversation that ended with a surprise kiss. He tilted his head to look at the white bag. "And what fine dining did you bring for our classy date?"
She held the bag up for him to smell. "The greatest pair of breakfast burritos that will ever clog your arteries," she replied, causing him to laugh.
"Oh, I don't know if I should," he teased. "I need to watch my health. I can't go off and die young now, can I?"
Juliet pulled up a chair and sat bedside, tearing the bag open to use as a makeshift tablecloth. "I'm sure you'll survive," she said, handing him his burrito with a twinkle in her eye. "You're a fighter, after all."
Shawn chuckled quietly, taking a bite of the offered food.
"I hope you appreciate my sneakiness," she said after swallowing her first bite. "You're not allowed outside food, even if it is your last day here."
"Hey, I've been here for two full days already," Shawn mumbled around a large bite. "The hospital rules can suck it."
Juliet smirked, though it was the same sad smile as before in the station. It wasn't pleasant, nor did it make Shawn feel reassured. It felt more like … goodbye. It was appropriate, after all. Thinking back on the decision he made last night, the first real night he was awake in the hospital, it was only fitting that today be his and Juliet's last day together.
When he awoke yesterday afternoon, with his father and Gus and the original Shawn around him, his first thought was shock at being alive, and then confusion. His companions went off on a riff about how heroic the Lassinator was, charging in and dramatically puncturing his heart with a needle full of the magic medicine. Though the story made him feel a bit ill, and it explained why his chest felt like someone had been dancing on it for the last 24 hours, he was overcome with relief at being alive. The cure – it worked!
Then he looked in a mirror.
Though the serum stopped his cells from deteriorating, it didn't restore him to his proper age. He was still in the body of his fifteen-year-old self, still with the mind of a man in his thirties, and no matter how happy he was at being alive, he was still a clone of the original Shawn Spencer. He was just twenty years younger in appearance, and he wouldn't look like Older Shawn until twenty years in the future.
It took a while, and a lot of solitary contemplation, before he could come to terms with his new life – and come to a decision. So now, he looked at the beautiful blonde detective smiling so bitter sweetly at him, and he grinned knowingly back. The two of them continued their breakfast in comfortable company with one another.
Their solace did not occur in silence, however. Juliet briefed him on what's been happening with the case. The mad doctor, Dantero – his full name being Jacob Dantero, a former scientist and graduate of MIT – will go to prison for illegal human experimentation and kidnapping. Meredith Cope has agreed to testify, but to protect the clone Shawn from any exploitation and exposure to the public, Chief Vick has decided to keep him out of the court case. The teen felt another swell of gratitude for that wonderful woman and promised he would hug her later.
Shawn joked and chatted with Jules after the burritos were long since devoured, the trash discarded lazily in the bin by the door. He tried to sound normal, though inside his heart was pounding. He tried to act like nothing was different, like everything would always stay the same for them. She clearly tried to do the same, and he ignored the way her voice shook at times, for neither of them needed to speak the obvious. It was all discussed with their eyes and how they danced around each other in a silent dialogue, an implied agreement.
When the time came that Juliet had to leave for work, she took his hand in hers. He squeezed it gently, his gut clenching in a knot as he forced his enduring emotions into a locked box and threw away the key.
She squeezed back, just as softly.
Then she left.
-:-:-:-
Henry and Gus picked him up just before noon. Shawn sat in the backseat of the Blueberry while Gus obviously drove and his dad rode shotgun. He was dressed in a baggy Tears for Fears shirt that Henry brought from his old room, the scent alone bombarding him with memories of his teenaged years.
"Hey, won't Shawn be mad you gave this to me?" he asked, gesturing to the shirt.
"What Shawn doesn't know won't hurt him," Henry said. "Just … don't let him see you wearing it."
"Fat chance he doesn't notice," Gus commented. Shawn snorted in agreement.
"I'd say it technically belongs to both of you," Henry decided. "But if you want to fight over it, be my guest. I'm not getting involved." The clone rolled his eyes, but they were alight with humor, appreciation filling his chest at the words his father spoke.
"So where should we go for lunch?" Gus asked.
"Jamba Juice!"
"Smoothies are not a proper meal, Shawn."
"Come on, man! I haven't had a pineapple smoothie in forever," the boy whined. "Plus … we should be celebrating. I mean it's theoretically my birthday."
"How?" both men asked with puzzled expressions.
"I'm five days old today."
The silence in the car was almost deafening, broken only by Gus clearing his throat. "Yes, well…"
"Please, spare me the awkwardness," Shawn interrupted, "and just get me a smoothie. I'm alive, I'm happy, and I want delicious flavor."
The pharmaceuticals salesman sighed and shook his head. Nonetheless, he turned the corner and drove in the direction of the Jamba Juice. Shawn pumped his fist into the air victoriously.
"We have to go to the station afterwards," Henry said. "You still haven't given your statement from when you were taken by Dantero."
"Alright," Shawn agreed. "I need to see the Chief anyway. Who's recording it?"
"Lassiter."
The boy grinned. "Ah, the Bert to my Ernie. The Squidward to my Spongebob."
"That makes me Patrick, Shawn," Gus pouted. "I'm not down with that. No way."
"But I get to live in a giant pineapple!"
"I will not be Patrick!"
"I bet Lassifrass throws a party after I leave," Shawn continued, as if he didn't hear his friend speak.
Henry twisted around in his seat, scowling with confusion. "What do you mean, 'leave'?" he demanded. "I thought you were staying at my house, in your old room? We decided that yesterday after you woke up."
Shawn smiled with resignation at his father, a man he didn't expect to start missing before he was even packed. That was a brand new feeling in their complicated relationship. He turned to Gus, who had just parked the car and was staring back at him, his expression alone screaming with questions unsaid. Shawn knew that look all too well, and he even knew how the questions would be phrased. He knew everything about this man that he – no, his memory, his mind – had grown up with. Even when he traveled the world and only communicated with Gus through postcards, he felt an unbreakable bond with him that only brothers could share.
It was going to be damn near impossible to replace that kind of bond, and Shawn wasn't sure if he should even try.
Alas…
"I've had a lot to think about since yesterday," the clone said, his voice unwavering. "And I've made a choice."
-:-:-:-
It was a Friday afternoon, so the station was fairly busy. Police officers were walking in every direction, some with stacks of papers so high they could barely see above it and others guiding handcuffed criminals to the cells or interrogation rooms. Shawn smirked as the memories of growing up in such a hectic environment whipped through his mind as quickly as the flap of a bird's wings. There were a lot of good times in this place, he thought, easily maneuvering through the crowd. Bad ones, too, but … now isn't the time to dwell on those.
As soon as they arrived, he split up from Gus and Henry, needing to tell the chief his decision on his own. Gus offered to go in with him, but fortunately his dad understood it was something he wanted to do privately.
It was good-bye, after all.
He didn't knock, as usual, before entering Chief Vick's office. Luckily, she wasn't doing anything he could annoyingly interrupt, unless signing paperwork counted.
"What, did you push all your work on a rookie somewhere?" Shawn asked, smirking. "The entire station can't possibly be this busy while the queen bee is practicing her autograph."
The chief glanced up, a glint of humor in her eyes. "Who's to say I didn't just finish early?"
"That would be miraculous, Chief! You must be some sort of genius, or speed demon… Are you a time traveler, perchance?"
Vick twitched an eyebrow upwards. "I sent Officer McNab to collect my fourth workload of the day, actually. He should be here in a few minutes, so I suggest, Mr. Spencer, if you have something to say then say it fast."
"Right…"
-:-:-:-
Three and a half minutes later, there was a polite knock on the window. Shawn broke eye contact with Vick and turned around. He saw Buzz behind the glass, a heap of files in his arms. The boy walked over and opened the door for the friendly officer.
"Buzz, my man!" Shawn greeted warmly, and was rewarded with a bright smile.
"Hey, Shawn! What are you doing here?"
"Just visiting," he said. "I've got a statement to take care of with Lassiter, but that's about it."
"You might want to meet up with him soon," Buzz warned conspiratorially. "He's been getting impatient rather quickly today."
The teen winked. "I'll be fast on my feet, then. Thanks, Nabby. I owe you a coffee … or, maybe a hot chocolate, right?"
Buzz chuckled and walked over to place the files on the chief's desk. Vick let out a small sigh at how much larger the pile looked outside the tall man's grip. Heck, it was a mountain. Shawn grinned at the woman in encouragement, high-fiving Buzz on the man's way out.
"Shawn…" the chief started, looked at the teen with a stern gaze. She had little time to ponder about what he had just informed her, and it looked like she was about to question his decision. Then, after a beat of silence, she sighed again. "We'll miss you around here, you know."
Running a hand over his dark hair, which he had styled with much less product than usual, Shawn let out a laugh. "Don't worry, Karen. It'll be like I never left."
A smile flitted across her face, reaching her eyes, and it was enough to persuade him into action. Shawn walked around her desk and bent down, wrapping his arms around her while she still sat. Vick breathed out a startled laugh, patting the boy's shoulder and leaning into his embrace briefly.
"Thank you for everything," he whispered, pulling away before the length of the hug became awkward.
"Good luck, Shawn."
With that, Shawn walked backwards out of the office, saluting the Santa Barbara police chief with two fingers and a smirk. The action brought amusement to the woman's eyes.
Always leave 'em laughing, he thought, choosing to ignore the faint sadness hidden in her gaze as well.
Spinning around when he was once again in the bullpen, Shawn made his way over to Lassiter's desk. Approaching the man cautiously, he remembered Buzz's words of concern and wondered how bad a mood the detective was in. Before he got near enough to see the flecks of gray in his hair, however, Lassiter spotted him and jumped from his chair.
"Spencer, I've been waiting thirty-seven minutes for you," he growled, grabbing the teen by his jacket collar and practically dragging him away.
"Really? Wow, my internal clock is way off today. I thought it was eight in the morning."
"Shut it. If you haven't noticed, the station is swamped and I don't have time to waste. Let's get this statement crap done with." Under his breath, Lassiter grumbled, "Still don't know why a rookie couldn't have done this."
Shawn pouted dramatically, walking a little faster to keep up with the man's longer legs. "Don't you want to spend quality time with me, Lassiebuns?"
"That's Head Detective to you, Spencer." Lassie replied, though it wasn't as biting as it normally was.
"Gotcha. Head Detective Lassiebuns. I'll make sure to refer to you as such in every foreseeable encounter." Without looking, Shawn could practically hear the man roll his eyes, and couldn't help but snicker.
A minute later, they were entering the only unoccupied interrogation room left in the station. Lassiter released the boy and immediately went to sit on his side of the table, setting up a voice recorder and a notepad. Shawn, however, took his sweet time getting to the chair.
"Ah, the nostalgia," he sighed, looking around the room with a smirk.
"What?" Lassiter grunted, not looking up from something he was scribbling on the pad.
"Don't you remember? This is where we first met. Twice. Well, technically, the second time was in the holding cells, but that's not as interestingly coincidental." Shawn pulled his own chair out and sat across from the detective, his eyes studying the man's face. He looked tired, though that was to be expected during a demanding day like this. "You should take the weekend off, Head Detective Lassiebuns. I'm sensing you need a relaxing break after these past few days."
"It doesn't take a fake psychic teenager to figure that out," Lassiter responded, scowling at the boy across the table.
Shawn stared back unflinchingly. "Don't worry, Lassie. Things will be back to normal sooner than you think." Lassiter's eyebrows pinched together in confusion, but Shawn kept speaking. "Oh, and by the way, I never got a chance to say thanks."
"For what?"
"Oh, nothing. Just saving my life and everything. No biggie."
Lassie released a gruff sigh, shaking his head. It was clear that he was frustrated by the boy's attitude – and angry, if the vein growing on his forehead was anything to go by. But he was also silent, avoiding eye contact, opening and closing his fists. Shawn smirked; Lassie doesn't know what to say for once, hm? Sparing the man the chance to speak and ruin a perfectly good moment of gratitude, he added, "I'm also sensing that you're gonna miss me after today," he insisted, his grin growing, though the rest of his face was serious. "Don't deny it, man. I know you will."
There were a few seconds where, without saying a word of explanation, Lassiter realized what Shawn was trying to convey. The detective straightened up then, his face blank of emotion except for the surprise in his eyes. Shawn watched him, waiting.
Finally, in a gruff voice, he spoke. "Just … don't let me see you in this room again, Spencer, or you'll have me to deal with."
Shawn nodded with a laugh, and reaching towards the center of the table, he clicked on the voice recorder.
"Let's do this thing."
-:-:-:-
The following Monday morning, earlier than both Spencers thought it possible to be awake, the Blueberry parked in front of a large, two-story brick building. Several other cars around them pulled up to a temporary stop; the passenger doors opened, and teens of every shape and size crossed the grounds to enter through the four front doors.
Older Shawn put the gear in park and sat back, looking at his clone with a rare serious expression. "Are you sure about this, dude?"
Younger Shawn let out a resigned sigh, but his smile was confident. "That's the seven billionth time you've asked that, and the answer is still the same."
"Yeah, but come on…" the man trailed off, looking pointedly at the sign on the front of the building. "San Marcos High School? High school? It's almost like, because of your near-death experience, you forgot all about what high school was like for me… well, you. Us."
"No, I remember perfectly well how much it sucked," Younger Shawn said, still unwavering. "But … times are different now. It won't be as bad as before. I've got an iPhone now, and Fruit Ninja will keep me company on the dull days."
"Granted, that's an amazing app which holds no competition, but that's not what I was talking about."
"You don't gotta worry about me," the teen insisted, looking down at the backpack in his lap for a moment. It was a brilliant turquoise with Perry the Platypus's face covering most of the front. "My apartment's all set up. I'll be getting a check every month from the station to help pay rent and food and whatnot."
"Good ol' Chief Vick."
"Yeah. I got a new wardrobe, too, so that's not a problem. Oh, and I found a classic turntable yesterday. Did you hear?"
"What?" Older Shawn exclaimed, grinning like a gleeful child. "What condition was it in?"
"Almost perfect. Think I could have some of the records in my … er, your old room? Mike and the Mechanics, maybe some John Parr…?"
"No way, man. Some Survivor, maybe, but you aren't taking my Parr. Nuh-uh."
"Dammit."
There was a second of amused silence, and then Older Shawn shook his head. "Anyway, that wasn't what I was saying either," he asserted, getting back on track. "What I'm trying to say is that you won't have Gus. We both know that he's the main reason we survived physics, and geometry, and chemistry…"
"Not gym, though," Younger Shawn cut in, snickering.
Older Shawn laughed. "Hell no. Or biology."
"Oh, god. Remember when he fainted the day we –"
"– dissected the frogs? And his had a gazillion eggs inside of it?"
"To be honest, that was the most disgusting thing ever to be seen in a classroom."
"Aside from Mr. Fletchley's face, of course."
"Yes, besides that."
The two Shawns chuckled quietly for a moment, trying to regain composure. Younger Shawn looked out the window, gasping slightly from the effort of the laughter. "I think … I can handle being without a Gus in my life for a little while. I did go all those years without seeing him. How is this any different?" He looked back at Older Shawn, determined. "I'm still not completely comfortable with living like this, repeating years that I'm not sure I want to repeat, but I guess I'll have to figure it out as I go along."
"You've got a bit of an advantage, though. You literally know what lies ahead of you. It's not quite like being a real psychic, but it's probably the closest you'll ever get."
"Maybe…" the teen replied warily. "I was actually thinking of doing something … different in the future. I think I might find another way I could use my gift, our gift. I was thinking … I could give college a try."
Older Shawn's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Wow. I honestly didn't expect that. What, uh … what do you think you'll major in? Phsysics?"
"I dunno yet. I'm only a high school sophomore, man. I've got a few years left to decide." Younger Shawn grinned cheekily. "It's just, I want … I wanna be different. So from here on out, you and I are completely different people. Separate lives, new choices… Everything."
The hollow ring of a bell echoed towards the Blueberry, and Younger Shawn shifted in his seat, looking a little nervous but also eager. It was as if this really was the first day of school for him.
"That's the warning bell," the clone stated, picking up his backpack. "I should probably get going."
"Yeah … alright." Older Shawn sighed as he watched his younger version get out of the car and swing the bag over his shoulder. "Hey, before you go, I was wondering something. Did you want to keep in touch or anything? Maybe not with me, but Jules or Gus…"
Younger Shawn cut him off with a shake of his head. "As much as I miss them already, even Henry and Lassiter, I just … I can't. It's hard enough to know that my old life is a measly half an hour away from here, going on without me as if the last week never happened. What's the point in calling in once a month to remind them that I exist? I think it's better if I become invisible, and just … start over, you know? Let them forget me."
"Well, I can't really say that they'll forget you, especially Juliet. She may not have our type of memory, but she's not likely to wipe the image of you out of her mind."
"Speaking of Juliet…" Younger Shawn shut the passenger side door and leaned inside the open window. His face was stern. "You need to tell her."
Older Shawn's smile fell slowly off his face. "What?"
"You need to tell her the truth, Shawn. I know how you feel about her. I know you better than anyone, and I know how often you think about a future with her. Now that I'm speaking from a forced outsider's point of view, you really need to be honest with her completely before this goes one step further. Otherwise, you're going to ruin everything. Trust me, and if I can't be with Juliet, then I'll be damned if no version of me can."
Older Shawn seemed stunned into silence, his mind reeling over this information. The bell rang again, and this time the students who were still mingling outside rushed towards the doors. Younger Shawn took a step back and straightened up. "Take care of them," he whispered, holding out his fist.
"I will. Good luck in there, Shawn," the fake psychic said, bumping the kid's knuckles with his own.
"I'll be needing all the luck I can get," the boy replied with a snicker. He turned around and started walking, adjusting the straps on his backpack to make it more comfortable. Suddenly, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at the man in the car. "By the way … my name isn't Shawn anymore."
Older Shawn tilted his head up in surprise. "Really? What'd you change it to?"
The teen grinned mischievously. "Think 21 Jump Street," he said, and with one last crooked smile, he made his way inside the school.
Older Shawn – well, back to just Shawn, he supposed – took no less than five seconds to figure out which name he would choose from the old 80's show. He snickered, flipped the gear into drive, and peeled off from the curb to head for the Psych office.
Life might've been filled with confusion and sickness for Younger Shawn, but he had a feeling things would look a little brighter for Tom Hanson Spencer.
