Author's Note: Okay, this is the last chapter! I just wanted once again to thank everyone who has been leaving comments. You guys are awesome, and I really, really appreciate you taking the time to let me know that you've been enjoying it.

After Lassiter leaves, Shawn takes a minute to do a little dance around the living room, because Lassiter loves him and wants him to stay and he can't quite contain his happiness. He calls Gus and apologizes for not answering his phone all night and asks him to meet for breakfast burritos, then makes sure the house is locked up before leaving, taking one last look at the couch, which he's going to have to have steam cleaned if he wants to sell or give away now.

He goes back to Lassiter's place before meeting Gus, to shower and change clothes, because he's pretty sure he probably reeks of sex.

When Gus sees him outside of the restaurant, he wraps Shawn up in a hug so tight that Shawn thinks he might leave bruises.

"I'm so sorry, Shawn! I should never have said all that stuff last night. You'll always be my best friend, you know that, right?"

"I know," Shawn assures him as he takes a step back, "but dude, you were right. I do take you for granted, and I'm really sorry. I should have thought more about how my leaving again would affect you. But you know, you've got the big, important job now, and a new girl, and…I guess a part of me thought that you didn't really need me around anymore. Or that it might be easier for you if I'm not here, or something. And you know, I guess I also thought that maybe it was better if I wasn't around to make you play detective anymore and put you in situations where you could get killed."

Gus gives him a look that suggests that he thinks Shawn is an idiot. "What's wrong with you? I'm bored out of my mind when you're not here. And you know, Shawn, I'm a grown-ass man. If I want to be a detective and almost get myself killed on a weekly basis, that's my own damn business."

"Oh," Shawn says consideringly. "Well, that makes sense. I am a lot of fun, and we did have a really good time being detectives. Come on, let's go eat some breakfast. I'm starving."

Once they're seated in a booth in the restaurant, Gus shakes his head in frustration. "I can't believe you, man. How could you think I wouldn't want you around? That would be like Butch without Sundance, Murtaugh without Riggs –"

"Wait, do I have to be Mel Gibson in that scenario?"

"Well, you're not Danny Glover. He's got common sense, like me."

"Right, Mr.-Won't-Go-Into-The-Mummy-Room. Common sense is your middle name."

"Not messing with curses IS common sense, Shawn. You would know that if you had any."
Shawn grins, never happier to be trading stupid pop culture references, and looks down at his menu.

"So," Gus asks carefully, "did you and Carlton talk?"

"Yeah. You were right, I was wrong, he didn't actually kick me out, I'm an idiot. Let us never speak of it again."

"I TOLD you," Gus says smugly, but he turns serious again as he says "What I don't understand is why you were so ready to believe that he had broken up with you. You two have spent over six years fighting with each other. Usually you're better at reading him than that."

Shawn shrugs uncertainly. "I've thought all along that we were on borrowed time, that we would get sick of each other, and I guess I just jumped to conclusions. And well, I haven't been sleeping well lately, so I guess I was just ready to snap."

"Shawn, why didn't you tell me that you were having a hard time sleeping? I work in pharmaceuticals, remember? I could probably get you something that would help."

"Nah, thanks, but you know I hate stuff like that. It makes my thinking all foggy."

"And not getting enough sleep keeps you sharp?" Gus asks sarcastically.

"Well, and also, everything I've ever tried before causes me to have really vivid nightmares. And I'm already having those, so…"

"So you can't sleep and when you do you have nightmares. How long has that been going on, Shawn? Anything else you haven't told me?"

"Come on, Lassie had to have told you some of this already."

Gus sighs. "He told me that you sometimes had a hard time sleeping, but you know how tight-lipped he is – no, don't interrupt by saying something dirty about Lassiter's lips – so it was all very vague and I didn't realize it was still going on. Also," he adds pointedly, "he probably assumed that you had already told me."

"I'm sorry, Gus, okay? It's just…it's something I have to work through myself. I wonder if they have any raspberries? I could go for some raspberry pancakes."

"Shawn, don't change the subject! You don't have to do this alone. We could…are you even listening to me?"

"No, sorry," Shawn says distractedly, staring in fascination at the way the condiments are arranged on the table. There's something about them that reminds him of the way that bullet hole in the alley had been positioned, something about the angle of how the shooter had to have been standing…"Sorry, Gus, I just…I think I just solved the murder that Lassie's been working on. It all has to do with the position of the gunman in the alley," he fingers the salt shaker speculatively, then moves it so that it's behind the ketchup bottle, "and who had the right motive."

"You mean you've been working on a case with Lassiter?" Gus asks, and for the first time all morning he sounds genuinely upset.

"No! No, I've just been reading the case file when I can't sleep. And the other day…god, I guess it was yesterday, I walked through the crime scene, just out of curiosity."

There's silence on the other side of the table. Shawn tears his eyes away from the positioning of the salt and ketchup to look at Gus, who is now sitting with his arms folded across his chest and a hurt expression on his face.

"I thought we were partners in the detective business, Shawn! What are you doing working on a case without me?"

"I didn't mean to! I sort of…solved it by accident."

"I'm sure Lassiter will be thrilled to hear that."

"I should call him," Shawn says, taking out his phone. After a few minutes, he frowns at it in frustration. "He's not answering. McIntyre brought in a suspect this morning. They're probably questioning her now."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We could go down to the station," Shawn says hesitantly, his heart beating a little faster just at the thought. "If I'm right, then I think the murderer might be there right now. He probably thinks he's about to get away with it."

Gus stands up and throws a few dollars on the table to pay for the coffee they've had. "Let's go."

"Don't you have to go to work?" Shawn asks, standing up as well.

"I'm using a sick day. I was up all night worrying about my best friend, remember?"

Once they're in the car, Shawn asks "Do you miss Psych?"

"Are you kidding? It was the best damn job I've ever had. I miss it every day."

"Me too," Shawn says. "Lassie has said that he won't tell the Chief the truth if we want to start it up again, but I don't know if I could, Gus. I mean, I could totally do the detective part again, but I'm not sure I have it in me to fake psychic visions forever. After seeing how much it hurt Jules…I don't know, I don't feel like lying anymore."

"Maybe there's another way," Gus says. "if you're really interested in working on cases again, we'll figure something out. Frankly, if we could find a way to make it work, I might ask for a demotion and go back to my old job. I hate what I'm doing now."

"Okay then," Shawn agrees, "we'll make it happen somehow."

It's strange walking into the police station again. Shawn sees several officers that they've worked with in the past staring at them, clearly surprised to see them again after so long, but for the time being he ignores everyone until he spots Buzz and makes a beeline for him.
"Buzz, hey! Do you know where Detective Lassiter is?"

"Shawn!" Buzz gasps in delight "And Gus!" he throws his arms around Gus, who makes a desperate "eeep" sound, his eyes wide with alarm. Shawn considers rescuing him, but is distracted by the sound of Lassiter talking, so he just pats Buzz gently on the back and says "Don't break Gus, I'm going to need him later," and takes off in the direction of Lassie's voice.

He spots Lassiter and McIntyre coming out of one of the interrogation rooms with a weeping woman in handcuffs. A man in the waiting area stands up as they approach, coming forward to speak to the woman.

"Don't worry, Irma, we'll hire a lawyer and have these ridiculous charges dropped. I know you didn't do this awful thing."

"Of course you do," Shawn says, skidding to a halt beside them. "Because you killed Garrison Smallwood, didn't you?"

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" Lassiter asks, gaping at him. He's showered and changed clothes too, Shawn notices, but still looks scruffily unshaven.

"Mr. Spencer, what the hell is going on?" McIntyre asks angrily. "What are you and Professor Honeypot doing here?"

Shawn glances behind him to see that Gus has joined them, then turns his attention back to the two strangers.

"Excuse my rudeness," he says politely. "You are Donald Shoemaker, are you not?" he waits for the man to nod in confirmation before continuing, "My name is Shawn Spencer, and in the past I worked as a consultant for the Santa Barbara Police Department. I'm here today because I know that you, Irma, are innocent of the crime of which you've been accused. The real culprit is your husband Donald here."

"This is insane!" Donald shouts, looking from Shawn to McIntyre "Are you just going to stand there and let this crazy person make wild accusations?"

"Of course not. Mr. Spencer, I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you don't leave immediately, I'm going to have you arrested."

"Wait," Lassiter says, holding up his hand. "Spencer, what makes you think that Donald did it?"

McIntyre interrupts before Shawn can speak. "Are you serious, Lassiter? I realize this person is a friend of yours, but we've already arrested Mrs. Shoemaker for the murder. I'm not interested in hearing any crackpot theories."

"I am," says someone from behind Shawn. "In fact, I'm very interested."

Shawn turns around to see Chief Vick leaning against a desk, her arms crossed and the barest hint of a smile on her face. "Please Mr. Spencer, continue."

"I don't believe this," McIntyre mutters, as Shawn launches into what he privately thinks is probably one of his best wrap-ups ever, particularly given the fact that he solved the case without speaking to anyone actually involved. When he's done explaining the elaborate lengths Donald Shoemaker went to in order to kill Garrison Smallwood and frame his wife for murder, Lassiter removes the handcuffs from Irma's wrists and puts them on her husband, who is spewing invective at Shawn.

"You goddamn fucking piece of shit!"

"Really, dude," Shawn says primly, "your choice of words says a lot more about you than it does about me."

McIntyre is staring at the whiteboard Shawn commandeered at one point in order to sketch out the details of how Donald had committed the murder in the alley. "How did you…?" he trails off, staring at Shawn in confusion.

In the past, Shawn would have responded by saying he was psychic and that it all came to him in a vision, but now he just shrugs and grins. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," Chief Vick says, coming to stand beside him. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Spencer, and you as well Mr. Guster. We've missed you."

"We've missed you too, Chief," Gus says, and Shawn nods in agreement.

"I couldn't help but notice that during that little summation, you didn't once say that you saw the murder in a vision, Mr. Spencer. There was also a good deal less flailing about than normal."

"Um, yeah," Shawn says uncomfortably, scratching his head. "My, um, psychic powers are…" he trails off, completely unsure of how to proceed. Tell the truth and possibly get arrested, or continue a lie that he's tired of? Before he can decide, Vick smoothly interrupts him.

"I've heard that sometimes in the event of a big life change or trauma, gifts like psychic powers can be altered, or even disappear completely. With all you've been through this year, I was wondering if something like that might have happened to you?"

Shawn stares at her with his mouth hanging open until Gus elbows him in the side. "Yeah. Yeah! That's right Chief, it was something like that."

She smirks a little, nodding. "I thought it might be. Still though, even without your, uh, psychicness, that was a remarkable piece of detective work. You know, I think I have room in my budget for a pair of consultants, whether one of them is psychic or not. Why don't you two come by tomorrow after lunch and we can talk about it?"

"Chief," Gus says, smiling hugely, "we would be thrilled."

Lassiter reappears, having presumably taken Donald to a holding cell, and Shawn tries to catch his eye to see if maybe they can get a few minutes alone, but Lassie appears to be lost in thought and isn't looking in his direction. Chief Vick also sees Lassiter come back into the room and calls him over.

"Detective Lassiter! Please join us. I was just-"

"I'm dating Spencer!" Lassiter blurts out.

Shawn swings around to stare at him in astonishment, which is pretty much what everyone else is doing too, because Lassie hadn't exactly been using his indoor voice; he had been speaking loudly enough that he clearly intended for everyone in the room to hear him.

"No," Lassiter amends, "that's not true. I'm living with Spencer. Shawn. He's living with me. We're living together now. Not that it's anyone's business," he adds, scowling, "but it's not a secret."

Everyone is gawking at him now, McIntyre and Buzz and Chief Vick and all of the detectives and uniformed officers milling around the office, and for the second time in a matter of minutes, Shawn finds that he's speechless. Now that he's spilled his guts, Lassiter also appears to be at a loss for words. It's Chief Vick who once again comes to the rescue.

"Okay, people, back to work! We may have caught one murderer today, but that doesn't mean there aren't still plenty of criminals to catch!"

Everyone scatters, though there are still a number of people staring curiously between Shawn and Lassiter. Gus leans over to him and asks "Did you know he was going to do that?"

"That would be a resounding no," Shawn says "hey, would you mind hanging out here for a few more minutes? I need to talk to him before we leave."

"No problem. Buzz wants to show me sonogram pictures."

Lassiter isn't standing where he was a few minutes before, and he's not at his desk. On a hunch, Shawn goes down to the interrogation rooms and finds him sitting alone and staring blankly at the wall. Shawn goes in and sits on the table next to Lassie's chair.

They sit in silence for a long moment, because Shawn is determined to not speak until he knows where Lassiter's head is at. Finally, Lassiter sighs and looks up at Shawn.

"Did I really just out myself in front of the entire department?"

"Yes, yes you did," Shawn confirms. "It was very exciting!"

"Oh, god."

"And then," Shawn continues gently, "the Chief told everyone to get back to work and they did. The people who work here Lassie, they all respect you. Well, and some of them are terrified of you. Either way, all that's going to happen is that people will gossip for a few days, and then something juicier will come to their attention, like the fact that Detective Williams is cheating on his wife with Officer Korski, and it will all blow over."

Lassiter sighs and scrubs his hand across his face. "You're right, I know you're right, and…wait, Williams and Korski? Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. His body language was practically screaming 'do me again!' when he was standing next to her out there. Speaking of which…" He lays a hand against Lassiter's face and leans forward to kiss him. Not as much as he'd like, because he's trying to be mindful of the fact that Lassie's already skittish about how this relationship is going to affect his work, but he can't restrain himself anymore.

"Did I mention, that was pretty amazingly romantic what you did in there?" Shawn asks softly after they part.

"You think so?" Lassiter asks, perking up at the compliment.

"What I think is that you should try not to work too late tonight," Shawn says, kissing him quickly again before standing up. "When you get home, we can discuss my feelings on the matter. Naked."

Lassiter hesitates before also standing. "There are still some things we need to talk about, Shawn."

"Yep. And we will. Later."

On his way back up to the bullpen, he's stopped by Chief Vick, who puts her hand on his arm and steps in close enough so that no one else can overhear them.

"I'm sorry I never got the opportunity to really talk to you after Henry died, Shawn. I knew your dad for a long time, and I can't pretend to understand how complicated your relationship with him was, but I hope you know how insanely proud he was of you."

He has to blink against the sudden prick of tears in his eyes. "That means a lot to me. Thank you, Karen…Chief," he amends quickly, as her expression goes stern.

"Now, about this relationship between you and my head detective," she continues, and Shawn braces himself for a lecture, "you two try to be good to each other, okay? You're both so damn stubborn, but I really believe you could make each other happy."

"I think you're right," he says, and after looking around quickly to make sure no one is paying attention to them, he gives her a quick hug. "Thanks again, Chief. I'll see you tomorrow!"

He finds Gus still with Buzz, who beams when he comes walking up. "That's so great about you and Detective Lassiter, Shawn! I always thought you two would make a nice couple."

"Thanks, Buzz. Hey Gus, would you mind driving me to Lassie's place? I think I'm ready for a nap."

When they step out of the station, Shawn extends his fist to Gus, who grins and bumps it, and all is right with the world.

Shawn sleeps for most of the day, almost six hours straight, and when he wakes the only dream he can remember is one in which the little boy cat brings him an elaborately wrapped present, which, when he opens it, turns out to be a pineapple.

He wonders if he can talk Lassie into letting him get a cat.

He gets out of bed and makes himself a snack, thinking as he does about the unresolved issues that Lassie apparently thinks they still need to discuss, most of which, he realizes, are probably regarding his inability to talk about anything that's bothering him. He knows that it drives Lassiter nuts that he won't discuss his nightmares, or his insomnia, or his panic attacks. It's just that he hates dwelling on things that make him unhappy. Lassiter seems to think that talking about these things would help somehow (and how is it that Lassie's the one advocating for this, when in the past he's so often been such a boiling cauldron of repression?), but Shawn's not convinced. However, since Lassie stepped up to the plate and did something that terrified him today, Shawn is willing to concede that maybe it's his turn to do something scary.

He's bouncing around the condo restlessly, looking for something to do when Lassiter comes home, and after enthusiastically kissing him at the door, Shawn says "I know you just got home, but can we go for a walk or something?"

As they walk, Shawn asks "So, what happened after I left this morning?"

Lassiter shrugs. "I processed the paperwork on Donald Shoemaker. Everyone kept staring at me, so I yelled at them. Buzz congratulated me," he winces slightly "I might have yelled at him too. And then, the Chief called me into her office and told me that you and Guster were probably going to start consulting again, and asked if that would be a problem."

"Will it?"

"Honestly? There are probably going to be times when we both want to kill each other if we're living together and working together. But Spencer, you walked into the station today and solved a case without talking to a single witness or interviewing any of the suspects, without doing anything other than reading the facts of the case and visiting the crime scene once. A case I worked on for two weeks without solving, I might add."

Shawn frowns. The last thing he wants is for Lassie to feel threatened. "I had a different perspective-" he starts to say.

"No, don't do that," Lassiter says. "You're an amazing detective. The best. I've been learning to live with that for years. At least now, I know how you do it. What I'm saying is, my ego can take it, Spencer."

"Yeah? Just, don't forget, you're a pretty amazing detective too, Lassie, and we're a team, you and me and Gus." He pauses and adds "I haven't decided about McIntyre yet. I wish I could figure out a way to get Jules back. Then everything would be perfect."

Shawn has led them to the beach. It's not deserted – a guy jogs past them as they walk, and a few yards away a woman is walking a dog – but they very nearly have it to themselves. Cautiously, Shawn takes Lassiter's hand, and is pleased when he doesn't pull away.

"I haven't been to the beach since dad died," he says. "I've missed it."

The sun is just starting to set, and the waves are rolling onto the shore, and all in all he thinks it might be the most beautiful place he's ever been.

"Lassie? This morning you said that you thought I wanted to leave. I just want you to know…I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to make me leave to get rid of me."

Lassiter stops walking and pulls Shawn close to kiss him, slow and deep, and even though he remembers everything, Shawn makes a special point of committing this moment to memory, the setting sun and the crashing waves and the blatant public display of affection, because he can't imagine anything more perfect.

"Wow," Shawn teases breathlessly when they break apart, "that was out in public and everything. You've really embraced the whole 'coming out' thing."

"There's barely anyone here," Lassie point out, "so I'm not sure this really counts as 'public'."

"It counts," Shawn assures him, resting his head against Lassiter's shoulder and feeling, at last, like he's home.

THE END