Shawn strolled coolly back into the Psych office, acting for all the world like he hadn't left in a furious huff an hour ago.
Gus was sitting behind the desk when he walked in.
"Shawn!" He exclaimed, jumping up. "What the heck is going on?"
"What do you mean?" Shawn asked, casually collapsing into an exhausted heap on the couch.
"I mean you said your dad tried to kill you and then stormed out!"
"Oh. That." Shawn shrugged. "No big deal. He just pushed me off the roof."
"He what?"
"Pushed me off the roof. And he wasn't even going to tell me. Can you believe that?" Shawn shook his head and clucked reprovingly, then added darkly. "…But I showed him."
Gus' eyes grew wide.
"What do you mean?" He asked quietly.
Shawn grinned and stretched out on the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"I shot him, Gus."
Gus scowled, finally realizing Shawn was just avoiding the subject.
"Shut up." He growled.
"No, really!" Shawn insisted. "I shot him! He had it coming…Wanna help me bury the body in the woods? I have an extra shovel."
"Knock it off. You didn't shoot your dad."
"I didn't?" Shawn blinked in feigned bewilderment. "Then whose blood's all over my leather jacket?...Incidentally, how do you get blood out of leather? Do I have to get it dry cleaned?"
Gus rolled his eyes and sat back down at the desk.
Clearly, Shawn just didn't want to talk about it.
He went back to work, but his curiosity got the better of him a few minutes later.
"Did he really push you off the roof?" He asked.
Shawn was still lying on the couch with his arm draped over his forehead and his eyes closed. He opened one halfway at Gus' query.
"Yeah," he murmured lazily, apparently not fazed in the least by this fact.
"Oh."
Gus looked down at the papers covering the desk, for once not having anything to say.
"So, when do you start therapy?" He mumbled finally.
Shawn laughed.
"Gus, trust me. On the list of reasons I have to be in therapy, being pushed off a roof by my father doesn't even crack the top 15."
"Then can we just get back to the case?" Gus demanded, dropping his pen on the desk and standing up again.
Shawn groaned and deliberately forced himself to sit up.
"My brain hurts." He grumbled, running his hand delicately over the back of his head.
"Which one? Your real brain or your wall-brain?"
"Both."
Shawn stood up and squinted at the wall-brain, though he was certain he couldn't decipher any more from it than he already had.
There just wasn't anything else…just patches of color and random, unhelpful phrases…
Suddenly, he cocked his head to the side.
"Gus…" he asked slowly. "Did you move my wall-brain around?"
"Did I what?"
"Did you mess with the wall-brain?"
"No!" Gus sounded insulted. "Why would I?"
Shawn didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes and waved his hand slowly over the wall, his forehead wrinkled in deep concentration.
"Why?" Gus asked again a few minutes later.
"Because something's different about it."
He slowly reached up and pulled off the WEIRD KIDS Post-It.
"This wasn't here before." He said, carefully moving it to the other side of the picture of the teenagers. "…It was here."
"Oh, right." Gus nodded. "I forgot. It fell off while you were shooting your dad. I put it back up for you."
Shawn's eyes snapped open again.
Only then did Gus realize what had just happened.
"Did you see it?" He asked, coming alongside his friend. "Is your memory back?"
Shawn shook his head slowly.
"No…not exactly…everything's still blurry and jumbled…"
"But you saw something?"
"Yeah," Shawn nodded, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "I saw something…"