Gus stood outside of Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, clearly choosing to believe-it-not that his best friend was gone. He reached for his socked foot only to find his work cell, like most of his cash and work credit card, was gone.

"Shawn!" he yelled futilely into the crowd of drunks, tourists, and people making their way to work in the bizarre Walk-of-Fame district. His random frustration blended unnoticed. A woman in a long, cotton caftan with a mesh beanie on her head handed Gus a religious pamphlet, proclaiming that Hollywood was Satan's favorite city because of the vain people and excess in living. Gus was too polite to decline the proffered paper and quickly shoved it into the pocket of his khakis.

"You need Jesus," the woman proclaimed to his back, adding, "I will pray for you," in a sad tone that had Gus turning around to find her staring at his retreat intently as if she wanted to say more. He hurried on.

Gus reluctantly dialed his work number. He would not be coming in tomorrow. Pacific Coast Pharmaceuticals would be short one salesman until Gus found Shawn, yelled at him, guilted him, maybe punched him, then hugged him and maybe even cried with him. For all the days for Dora from Human Resources to be unavailable and his boss to pick up, this was the worst.

"Yes, Sir, I just left my work cell back at home for my day off, wouldn't want anything to happen to it. No, Sir, I didn't lose it. No, Sir, I'm not using it for personal business. Yes, sir, I am aware that PCP tracks our cells through a third party. No, sir, there's no need to check, it's safely at home. Yes, sir, I will present a doctor's note when I come in."

Gus hung up the phone exhausted. His boss hadn't said the name of the third party security which tracked the work cells and Gus couldn't remember. Maybe he could convince Juliet to track his phone if he didn't find Shawn within an hour. But then again, Juliet was probably busy trying to find Buzz. The sun began to set on Hollywood and the neon lights burst to life but failed to set the tone of excitement and adventure for Gus that was instantly instilled on the starstruck tourists.

XXXXX

By nine O'clock, Santa Barbara was sleepy on a Thursday night as Gus reluctantly called the police station from a coffee shop near the Chinese Theater in L.A. Things couldn't be good, Chief Vick answered the phone personally.

"Mr. Guster, I was just going to have Lassiter call you. Were you able to find Shawn?"

"Not as of yet, Chief," Gus said, trying to sound positive.

"Gus, this is important, I know it's your day off but do you have your work cell on you right now?"

"Um, about that, Chief, you see Shawn kind of ..." Gus broke off, he couldn't believe he was going to have to say that his best friend had actually stolen something from him. Sure, Shawn had borrowed things without returning them before, once or twice or a hundred times but this was different.

"Shawn has it," Gus admitted without stating the obvious.

"Damn it, and he's not picking up," Vick said anxiously.

"Chief, how do you know Shawn's not picking up?"

There was a shuffling sound on the phone and Lassiter's voice came on the line.

"Guster, listen carefully. McNab left his personal cell at his apartment. We went through his call history, he's placed ten calls to your work cell. I swear if you and Spencer are trying to just help McNabb play hooky and get away from his honey-do list by hiding in Hollywood, I will come down there and shove my gun so far up your-"

"Lassie, I don't have my work cell. Shawn stole it from me," Gus admitted, swallowing past the painful lump in his throat.

"Why would McNabb be trying to call your work cell, Guster?" Lassiter barked.

"I didn't even know Buzz had my work number," Gus said heatedly, wondering for the life of him why Lassiter had to yell at him.

"Okay. But Guster, when you didn't answer your work cell..." Lassiter lowered his voice and Chief Vick was heard in the background telling him he might as well speak up because she knew what unauthorized things Lassiter had done. "When you didn't answer, I called your boss just a minute ago. He activated your tracking and he may or not be waiting for you in his office tomorrow morning at nine a.m. sharp. That said, he told me that the third-party security had authorized the Santa Barbara Police Department to track you on suspicion of drug trafficking."

At that moment, Gus' personal phone vibrated, announcing a call from ... his boss.

"Lassiter what's going on?" Gus hissed anxiously sitting heavily on a stool shaped like a marshmallow at an icecream shop his feet had unknowingly brought him to. "Shawn wouldn't have had time to ... and besides he'd never... Why are you investigating me for drug trafficking! I sell legal pharmaceuticals. I'm one of the good guys."

"Take it easy, Guster, we don't believe you're selling illegal narcotics. The tracking initiative was not put in place officially through our department."

"But then that means that Buzz..."

"All we know right now is that Officer McNabb is missing and when your boss forwards us the details of your cell phone location, we'll be monitoring it for more calls from McNabb so I suggest you try to get a hold of Spencer and tell him not to tip off McNabb that we have his cellphone and tell Spencer to get his ass back to Santa Barbara or he could be implicated in whatever the hell is going on."

Gus's phone vibrated again. His boss. Again. His best friend was missing. Buzz McNabb was trying to frame him for selling narcotics or was coerced into doing so or was god knew what and where - and he was so fired.

His current phone call became muffled yet again as Chief Vick took over.

"Mr. Guster I just got the call. Your cell is in the Hollywood and Vine area. I haven't been able to coordinate with the L.A. Department yet but I can give you up-to-the-minute coordinates."

And the day just got even better, Gus' cell phone announced with a weak beep that it was going dead.

XXXXXXX

Shawn jumped as Gus' cell vibrated in his back pocket. He'd only taken it from Gus because he figured Gus would dial his boss on impulse and quit to come find him, and a part of Shawn clung to that thought like a lifeline. He took the phone from his pocket. Just looking at Gus' name in the tiny green letters would have to be enough company for now. He slipped the phone back in his pocket. with a heavy heart., declining Gus's call.

The cell vibrated again and Shawn withdrew it from his pocket. Gus' boss again. But the need to keep his loved ones safe overrode any guilt of declining the call. The third time the phone vibrated, Shawn was going to ignore it but thought about picking up to give Gus' boss some bogus story as to why he'd be late or absent tomorrow, because Shawn knew that Gus would need some time to come to terms with his decision and to close down the Psych office.

"Huh," Shawn said aloud as he looked down at the caller ID. Buzz McNabb? For a minute of stupidity and a little green monster rising in Shawn's chest, Shawn realized that he didn't even know Gus' work cell phone number. Every time Shawn had deduced the number, Gus would change it and lately, Shawn hadn't the time to invest in such pursuits. It was probably just Nabby collecting donations for the hospital again on behalf of his wife, Francine who headed up the annual blood drive. Declining the call but still distracted by such an unlikely caller, Shawn tucked the phone back into his pocket where it remained annoying silent. He vaguely wondered if the next caller would be Juliet. With his luck, it would be his dad who would reach through the cell to grab Shawn by the hand like a child and bring him home if he could. And damned if Shawn didn't wish that were possible, to just go home.

XXXXXX

Gus made his way back to the Blueberry which was parked in a dusty, but cheap-for-L.A. lot As he bent to fit his tired body into the driver's seat, the crumpled religious pamphlet from the cotton clad woman in front of Ripley's fell to the ground. Not one to litter even at the worst of times, he wearily stooped to pick it up, bumping his head as he straightened on the door. As he cussed at his luck and proceeded to try to crumple the pamphlet further, a symbol amongst the tatters and folds on the crisp white paper caught his attention.

No. Just ... no.

The black and white circular design came together at the fold of the paper in Gus' shaking hands. Yin and Yang.

Gus could barely plug his phone into its charger as he started the blueberry. The phone came to life as soon as his shaking hands finally made the mark into the charger.

"Chief!" Gus yelled into the phone seeing the ID.

"Mr. Guster," Vick interrupted. "I need to caution you that someone has activated the tracking GPS on your work vehicle. I suggest you refrain from driving it until we can figure out what's going on."

"Chief, listen, we have big problems. It's Yin. He's here in L.A. I got this pamphlet shoved into my hands and I didn't look at it until just now. It has his mark. The Yin and Yang symbol."

"Guster, I want you to find a very public place to get to and call the police. I'm going to contact L.A.P.D. and have you placed in protective custody until we can arrange for you to come back."

"All due respect, Chief," Gus choked out, "Shawn is here and he doesn't know any of this. Doesn't know Yin is here. He's alone. He's going after Yin but he thinks he has time to plan. He's messed up. I can't just leave him alone. I have to find him."

"We are tracking Mr. Spencer with your work phone. Lassiter and O'Hara left here half an hour ago even though we have no jurisdiction in L.A. Henry threw his badge on my desk and followed them out. Mr. Spencer is not without certain advantages with his ... gifts and all but you cannot help him if you put yourself in harm's way."

"Chief, put yourself in my shoes, if you were here, you'd look for your best friend, your brother, now, please, give me his last location."

"Why would Shawn be back at Tussade's?" Gus wondered aloud to the chief after she read him the coordinates.

"Mr. Guster, we've already had L.A. dispatch officers informed to keep an eye out for Spencer. Please don't put yourself in danger. You know Shawn has never wanted that."

"It was a good card to play," Gus told the Chief, hanging up and putting the blueberry in gear planning to park right outside the wax museum, damn the ticket and towing of his company car. Yep, he was so fired.

XXXXXX

O'Hara picked up her phone as she sat in the passenger side of Carlton's speeding car. Now that Yin was a definite factor in everything that was going on, her resolve to see this whole case through to the end overwhelmed her. She knew in her heart that Shawn had not run away, he'd planned on running straight into the fire, just not so soon and hopefully with more planning. Now he was running blind against the most heinous murderers California had ever seen.

"Chief, have you heard from Shawn or Gus, or McNabb?" O'Hara blurted without preamble.

"We talked to Gus a few moment's ago. Since Gus found the symbol, he's bound and determined to go save Mr. Spencer but we have another problem. Francine McNabb was just taken to hospital with the same symptoms as Carlton described in the McNabb's pet cat. I informed the hospital that the cat was also sickened and as a precaution, we evacuated their entire building. According to the cat's vet, the cat became violent about two hours after being admitted and Francine punched the paramedic trying to take her blood pressure, calling him a liar and a cheat just like all the other "uniforms," whatever that means. The manager of the building came home from work early on my request and released the security footage from McNabb's building. Francine couldn't reach Buzz on the phone for several days but it turns out McNabb was home until about an hour before she returned from her mother's house."

Lassiter spoke into Juliet's phone. "Chief with everything going on, with Yin having been watching Spencer since childhood, and then studying us, it's not far-reaching to think that he used the same poison on Buzz and his family that was used on me by that psycho at my new apartment building. Can you have Dobson and a team inspect the vents and the rest of the place? Oh, and make sure they wear hazmat suits. That stuff ... it's-" Lassiter shuddered despite ordering his body to obey him. Visions of wanting to bisect Gus with a sword and believing without a doubt that everyone was out to get him and that the very floors and walls were watching ... it had taken months for Lassiter to recover and sometimes, even now, the memories threatened to eat him.

"Will do, let me know when you get to L.A."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shawn stared down at bus schedules on Gus' work cell as the forty-seventh rejected call came in. He looked around, and back at the screen again. He'd need a hundred and nineteen dollars to reach a decent distance from L.A or Santa Barbara to hole up and make his plans to take down Yin. A small smile that felt foreign on his face melted away as he spotted a card hustler down the block. Saying a silent sorry to Gus, Shawn discarded the work cell into a nearby garbage can and headed for the clearly illegal card trick gambling kiosk.

"Okay, kid, what's your deal, are you out to ruin me?" whispered the card hustler after his large crowd of suckers dispersed as Shawn won again and again at the shell game. At the rate of only two dollars per win, it was going to take forever to raise his bus fare and a bit of cash to live on so Shawn decided to have a "vision" right there and then.

"I'm sensing a bright light. Small, but shaded. Curious." Shawn then reached out, trance-like and snatched the man's hand up in his own. Turning the man's palm upwards, Shawn saw a small bulb attached to the fat fingers on a gaudy, plastic ring.

"Invisible ink!" Shawn hissed into the man's ear before taking a very audible deep breath as if to prepare to shout.

"Okay, okay! What do you want? I'm a small businessman, providing entertainment to tourists."

The fact that the man handed over the thousand dollars that Shawn demanded without protest showed that this was in fact a very lucrative business. Shawn pocketed the money and hurried away. He looked back as the man resumed business. With a grimace, Shawn realized that it could be him, hustling cards on the street and according to his father, Shawn might as well have been a hustler for as long as he lied about his abilities to the police, Henry Spencer had never fully approved of or been outwardly proud of his son's accomplishments, whether he was catching murderers or not. And with that miserable thought, Shawn retraced his steps back toward where Google said the bus station was.

Shawn paused in front of Madame Tussaud's. The crowd was just as thick as it had been hours earlier. Gus was so heavily on his mind that he imagined his friend's voice over the circus-like music and atmosphere of movie star imposters posing for photos with tourists and ticket scalpers selling half-priced tickets to certain venues. A slight breeze wafted the smell of fast foods and sweets. Shawn had never said no to cotton candy before but right now the thought of eating the melting spun sugar without Gus as they screamed through a haunted house or dared each other to stick it up the ghost's nose in The Laugh In The Dark Ride was too much.

Well, that was odd. He imagined that Gus would have something to say like, Shawn, get your butt back here, you can't just go running off and -

But instead, Shawn heard, "Hello, this is Burton Guster, I'm currently on a clinic call but if you leave your name and number and reason for your call, I'll get right back to you, thanks and have an allergy-free day with new Benypill DM."

Shawn froze. He turned around expecting Yin to be standing behind him with Gus' blood-covered cell in hand.

"Buzz!" Shawn squeaked in relief.

"Hey man, what are you doing here? Oh ... don't tell me, Gus had me tracked on his phone and called you for help. Look, it's not what it looks like. I'm just taking a few days away. You can go on back to Santa Barbara, and be a peach, don't mention you found Gus' phone in a garbage can. He'll never forgive me."

The more Shawn talked, the more Buzz's head turned to the side like the confused drug canine unit dog he trained. So Shawn kept talking. And talking. Buzz said nothing despite the prompts from Shawn or awkward lapses between his breathes to recover from his fright that Yin might have been there.

"Ohhhh! That's right, I saw your number on Gus' phone. Did Gus invite you to join us here after shift or something?"

… And that's when Mr. Hyper-Observant finally realized that Buzz was in uniform; full uniform; gun and all."

"Geez, Vick didn't send you for me, did she? 'Cause last time I checked, trying to get some air was not a crime. And if I remember my Miami Vice correctly, you don't have jurisdiction here..."

Shawn's back stiffened when Gus' phone vibrated, and Buzz's large hand closed around it so tightly he was certain it would break.

"Come on, Nabby, lighten up. You can catch a show or go to a museum before you head out; tell Vick you never saw me..."

Buzz's dark eyes were vacant but there was something else there besides the unblinking stare. Anger. It was radiating from the tall, dark-haired officer in waves that Shawn felt in his soul. On any other day, Buzz would have noticed the dark smudges under Shawn's eyes and the exhaustion. But not today.

Shawn's eyes darted up and down the officer's body. Buzz always had good posture but he sometimes slouched to appear smaller, especially when dealing with small children or victims to appear less imposing. But now - he stepped slowly toward Shawn who was much shorter until Shawn's back touched the ticket booth of Tussaud's.

"Whoa, Nabby, personal space, man. What's your deal?"

But as Buzz's arm extended painfully over Shawn's ribs, Shawn knew the deal.

"Wow, Buzz, didn't know you cared, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Shawn tried for levity. "Okay, okay, put that thing away, I'll come back to Santa Barbara with you, you don't havta ..." Shawn mimicked a gun with his forefinger pointing back at Buzz.

Shawn's shoulders sagged. "You're with him, aren't you?" he whispered.

Buzz gave a laugh that did not reach his eyes. It didn't match Buzz's boyish smile and his teeth were set; jaws locked together.

"No, because then today would be all about you, Spencer," Buzz whispered. "And for just this once, it's going to be all about me. Now, step up to the ticket counter and buy two tickets." With that instruction, Buzz drove his gun harder into Shawn's chest.

Buzz had never sought attention. He never even took time off when he'd been blown up in front of his own apartment, attacked and nearly killed by a mass murderer whose victims he found weak, hit on the head by Yin's minion, and the list went on.

And he'd never called Shawn by his surname before.

"How long were you following me?" Shawn asked quietly as he carefully read Buzz's body language and tuned into his speech mannerisms.

'You know, Spencer, for a psychic, you're pretty stupid. I've been tracking Gus' phone that you ditched in that garbage can and his car for days. I got to L.A. half an hour ago and I found you already? Not a very good psychic, are you?"

Buzz's boyish charm reappeared briefly as he leaned toward the hole in the ticket taker's glass. "This scum's out on escorted leave, you might want to hold back more decent folk for a few minutes so I can rush 'im through and get 'im back to lockup," he said as he shoved Shawn forward. And sure enough, the, be back in ten minutes sign went up facing the annoyed tourists.

Shawn was annoyed for the first time in his life that people didn't notice anything, that he was cursed to notice trivialities, you know, like the patches on the tall man's uniform were for Santa Barbara!

"Buzz, come on man, we're friends. What's going on?"

"You're psychic, you tell me, Shawn … Oh wait, you're not psychic."

Shawn gaped like a fish but no words would come out of his mouth. The ice that fell into Shawn's stomach didn't cut the pain when Buzz shoved him against a wall and proceeded to frisk him like a suspect.

"You better buy me lunch first, bit friendly there, Buzz." But he couldn't bring himself to ask how Buzz knew his secret and if anyone else knew.

"You put us all in danger, Spencer. Jules, Lassiter – not like I care, they can go to hell, overlooked me the same as everyone else. When I told Juliet about your lies, it was awesome to watch her run to the bathroom to cry. All Lassiter did was to start polishing his gun. Vick though? She was the best. Henry Spencer, you and your son are fired. Get out of my station!" Buzz said, raising his voice several octaves to match his boss's tones.

"Buzz I – n-never wanted to hurt any-" Shawn said, his heart sinking into the pit of his pocket.

"But you did. You did. And you didn't even stop to think what it would do to me if Francie found out that I was stripping at that resort. I was just trying to make some money so I could take her on a proper honeymoon, but no, you had to have a vision. Buzz mimicked the way Shawn often put his fingers to his temple to help him with his abilities. The most disturbing part of any of it was that Buzz used the butt of his gun instead of his fingers.

And that's when Shawn noticed that the young officer's hands shook viciously, itching at the trigger involuntarily.

"McNabb, honestly, I never even knew that you – stripped. Honest." And Shawn was being honest. He had no knowledge of Buzz's extra, um, employment other than some sports arena security.

"Francie left me, Shawn!" Buzz shouted, aiming his pistol at Shawn's chest. "So I trekked you here. You hurt people I love, I hurt people you love, if you're even capable of loving anyone other than yourself."

"Buzz, what the hell have you done?" Shawn asked as his hand raked his face.

Buzz laughed. "Do you know how easy it is to get access to GPS on phones and cars? I may or may not have framed Gus for selling his samples on the street and pocketing the money. First I was going to kill him, but then I realized with you out of the picture and after a stint in jail, Gus might just be another of your victims left in the dust after I kill you."

Shawn took a deep breath. He needed to think. He'd have given anything to have Gus there to create a distraction, to dance around, to fly an imaginary plane as images and random visual snapshots collected in his cataloged brain could come into focus.

And to wish that Gus was here … was selfish. He stared at McNabb's service revolver.

"Say something!" McNabb screamed, the quiet, sinister demeanor leaving to be replaced by uneven breathes and wide eyes as the officer swiped strands of hair from his sweaty brow.

Shawn, get a hold of yourself, Henry Spencer fumed inside Shawn's head. The air conditioning is insanely cold in here, it's a wax museum in California for Pete's sake, they can't afford to lose their waxworks. So why is McNabb sweating, son?

I don't know, dad, you tell me, I'm a bit busy here with a gun pointed at my heart.

Heart … Heart … Shawn forced himself to focus on Buzz. The officer's shirt was unbuttoned around his neck and he pawed at it incessantly as if it was strangling him. Shawn studied his neck. Buzz's collar was heaving up and down with labored breaths, his carotid artery stuck out and Shawn methodically counted the pulse.

He's either going to have a heart attack or stroke, Shawn, look at his pulse, it's way too fast, Gus chimed in Shawn's mind.

Shawn felt a sob escape him. He'd wanted to be alone to face Yin but now he realized, he would never truly be alone, even now in death. McNabb wasn't Yin, but somehow the young newlywed had been taken.

"McNabb, this isn't you."

"Shut it, Shawn. Your silver-tongued bull crap isn't going to work this time," McNabb sneered quietly hiding the gun as a couple of tourists strolled by.

Buzz stumbled as he shoved Shawn past the royal family who were still wearing their horror gear. As Buzz passed by, his head turned in temporary distraction at the weird sight of Charles in a hockey mask.

Shawn, move! Henry screamed in Shawn's head as Shawn snapped to attention, shoving Buzz's right arm upward and elbowing the tall man in the solar plexus.

Buzz momentarily released Shawn's shoulder and Shawn ran, unable to zig-zag as he had done when he'd been shot by the ice cream truck bandits as he called them now. And how messed up was it that he was running for his life … again.

Shawn stopped running. Up ahead, another class of probably fourth-graders gathered to adore the giant, green ogre. Shawn raised his hands and backed into a wall around yet another corner where he bumped into a door for employees only. He made sure McNabb would see the door close behind him.

Shawn scanned the room, his own heart pounding so that he felt every precious beat He'd never be able to tell Juliet how he truly felt. Even if he somehow got out of this mess, she would never trust him again. His dad had been right. It couldn't last; these lies that masked his true abilities but now, he couldn't even find it in his heart to blame Lassiter for backing him into a corner of freedom or truth when they'd met.

A door to a closet-sized room labeled Dark Room spilled loud music from the crack under the door.

Shawn grabbed a broom that was leaning against a wall and shoved it into the darkroom door handle. Whoever was in there needed to live.

Buzz caught up, Shawn hadn't even thought of locking the entrance door if it would save the kids outside their innocence not having to witness what was surely going to happen.

"Hero," McNabb mocked. "See? you think I'd kill you in front of kids! Do you have any idea what I've been through because of you? God, Shawn I was so messed up from that concussion I got the night I was attacked while I picked your girlfriend up from the airport. And you know what? Everyone, including me, worried about you. How you felt. How you were. You know who cared about me? Francine! And now she's gone. All because you couldn't keep your stupid mouth shut."

"Buzz, I swear to God, I didn't even know anything about you stripping. I haven't spoken to your wife since your wedding."

"He said you'd say that…" McNabb said, loosening his shirt even more with fumbling fingers that didn't want to cooperate with his wishes.

"It's too hot, open the door slowly and get out," McNabb said. "It's hard to breathe in here."

"No," Shawn said quietly. "You'll have to do it in here, like you said, kids are out there."

"…Too hot, though," Buzz said in frustration, his hand shaking as if the gun weighed too much as he stared around for the source of the extra heat.

In the middle of the room, a twelve-foot-tall steel vat of heated wax with ladder rungs etched into its side in a circular pattern waited to gobble up the torso of an unfortunate, discontinued male figure which dangled on a block and tackle above.

The heat wasn't helping McNabb's precarious hold on his trigger finger as Shawn babbled incessantly, desperately trying to gain control of the situation.

"McNabb, could you just do one thing. Could you clear Gus' name? You know he's never even had a parking ticket. There's no sense ruining his life for being stupid enough to be friends with me."

McNabb aimed the gun from Shawn's chest to his head. "No, that's the part of your suffering, knowing that he will suffer. That your dad will suffer. Juliet will get over you, Lassiter never liked you and Vick will probably be fired."

"Why would you want that, Buzz?" Shawn asked, trying to keep the now panting officer calm.

"I don't know … um, Don't try to distract me. He said you'd -"

Shawn eyed the lever for the block and tackle which was just to his left. Leaning over as if suddenly nauseated, he pushed the down lever and the chain and wax torso slammed into Buzz like a possessed tackle dummy.

"OOF!" Buzz, hissed, hitting the ground. Shawn leaped forward and stepped on Buzz's right hand still miraculously clutching his gun.

Buzz's training took over as his left foot swept around the back of Shawn's ankle and his right foot snapped knee cartilage with sickening accuracy that sent the detective to the floor gasping in agony. In seconds Buzz was staring down into Shawn's face as he straddled his chest, gun pointed directly between Shawn's eyes.

Shawn screwed his eyes shut, he didn't know what good that would do but it inadvertently bought him some time.

"Open your eyes, Shawn! Do you think I got to close my eyes when I was flying through the air from that mailbox bomb that your psychic abilities failed to warn me of? And guess who was there for me? Francie. And. Now. She's. Gone!" Buzz punctuated his words by stabbing out the syllables with the butt of his gun into Shawn's sternum until his weight and blows took Shawn's breath away.

Shawn, do you remember that women's self-defense class you helped teach in San Jose? Gus's voice echoed in Shawn's frantic brain. Bring your knee up into little Nabby, throw your hands above your head and roll. Do it now!

CRUNCH! Shawn rolled, his injured knee first hitting McNabb and then the floor as he struggled to his feet. Shawn dove behind a wax George Bush just as the head was blown off the somehow surprised looking statue. He landed in the president's abandoned clothing, wax shrapnel showering everything and disappearing with a hiss into the hot vat of wax to blend with whoever had become an object of disinterest before them.

Shawn picked up a useless shank of wax to point at Buzz who was getting to his feet, gasping, all color drained from his face.

"Buzz – p – please, man, th-there's a reason you're not shooting me. You came here t-to kill me. You know I never told Francine that you stripped man, I never even knew that."

"No one knew that. You – you…" Buzz mimicked Shawn's famous finger-to-temple pose.

"But, Buzz, you already know I-I'm a fraud." The poisonous words hurt. "How could I possibly know that?"

"Francie's gone!" Buzz grabbed his chest and fell to his knees and for a moment of self-preserving cruelty, Shawn wished that Buzz would collapse to the floor.

"But I'm supposed to – I have t-to," Buzz panted. With resolve that seemed to come from a voice that no one else could hear, Buzz ordered Shawn to climb up onto the top of the vat of wax.

Shawn's legs shook beneath his weight. He tried to drag himself up the rungs of the ladder but avoided looking down at the gooey, greyish concoction and somehow it seemed perverse to melt even wax people together. He could hear Gus's distaste in his head.

Shawn, you remember when we watched too much Shark Week specials on National Geographic followed by that painting show to try to get over the fright? Well, if you don't fight, your body is going to melt into that greyish mess in what Bob Ross would call Jaws-death-scene-maroon and it won't be a happy little accident.

And then Shawn got an idea. "What did Yin tell you to do to me, Buzz?"

"I have to shoot you," Buzz said with a little too much ease that didn't match his posture.

Shawn didn't want to burn alive. "Then shoot me, Buzz. If you were ever my friend, shoot me."

Buzz's head cocked to the side just as it had when he'd first caught up with Shawn. But then his glazed-over look took over anew and he swiped his hand across his face, perspiring heavily, the smell of melting wax imitating a thousand candles burning at once without the comforting glow of warm light.

Loud voices emanating from the hallway were familiar. Buzz's eyes widened in pain as the ear-splitting fire alarms went off throughout the museum.

Please make your way to the nearest exit, a disembodied voice ordered over and over again.

"Buzz,, the police are here..."

"I'm the police in case you forgot like everyone does. McNabb, stand in front of this door for two days, McNabb, get my coffee, McNabb, sorry, we're going to have to take back that case we just gave you that we told you might help you make detective, McNabb lick my boots!"

"McNabb, put the gun down." The voice belonged to Lassiter, Buzz turned around as if trying to decide whether he'd heard it in his head or his buzzing ears.

"No, I - I'm finished now anyway. Francie left," Buzz sobbed as Lassiter's gun aimed directly at his chest. His own arm was still cocked toward Shawn who stood on the brink of the wax vat.

Juliet looked at Shawn's knee. Even from her angle, joining her partner in aiming at her fellow officer's heart, she could see the swelling in the shaking limb.

"Okay, Shawn?" she asked, all business before addressing Buzz. "Buzz, Francie didn't leave you. She's been calling you for three days. She came home to find you gone and she came to us looking for you."

"No, she left … she knows .. Shawn told her about my j-job."

"Buzz," Juliet said, holding one hand palm out. Francie loves you. She's been crying for days because you'd been fighting."

"Lies! He told m-me." But Buzz was looking a bit confused.

"Buzz, look, Francie needs you. She's in the hospital."

"Don't try that with me, I'm a cop too, remember? Hostage negotiation one-oh-one. Just because you send me to do all your menial tasks, like going to the airport to pick up his flavor of the day and almost getting killed by Yin. Yeah, that's right, I was there too! You all forgot that, didn't you! I was so glad that you found Abigail and Juliet, Shawn, but you know what? I laid on that parking garage floor for an hour, bleeding from where I crashed into my cruiser after I was drugged! I woke up blind from concussion! I went to the hospital as a John Doe because he took my ID, even my uniform shirt was gone and I couldn't remember my own name for an hour until the swelling came down. And do you know who came for me to take me back to the station to supposedly be protected? Francie. And now she's gone!"

Lassiter did his best trying to keep Buzz talking as Juliet made her way around the vat. Shawn didn't dare to move. The way McNabb's hands were shaking now, the trigger was likely to be spasm-pulled even without the malice in Buzz's body which seemed on autopilot.

"We didn't know, McNabb. An hour was like a second that night with Juliet and Abigail and the stupid riddles and rhymes," Lassiter's voice actually broke but his stance remained rigid and resigned and Shawn knew without a doubt that Lassiter would shoot Buzz if he thought he had to.

"… and someone k-kept telling me – they said Francie w-wanted someone with money. She deserves more. And so I tried but the headaches … the extra shifts. So two weeks ago I – I got a job – dancing. All I wanted was for Francie to have a n-nice honeymoon and we-were being kicked out of our apartment because the manager didn't want me there because of the bomb damage. M-my insurance didn't cover the repairs. I – didn't know what to do."

"McNabb, we can fix all that. The department can fix that. You shouldn't have had to go through that, the department's insurance should have paid…"

Buzz looked like a kicked puppy, albeit a kicked puppy with a deadly weapon currently trained on another one of their own.

Buzz was backing up toward the vat. He warned Juliet to back off as he climbed up to stand next to Shawn on the platform with see-through rebar slats in the top.

"Buzz, please we don't want to shoot you. But we will. You know that," Lassiter warned.

"I can't eat grapes anymore," Buzz said out of nowhere. "In th-the garage, all I could smell as I tried to get up was grapes. It was on my undershirt; someone had poured wine or something all over me. No, the bottle – I had twenty stitches to the back of my head. It was a wine bottle … I woke up in the glass and someone was whispering to me but they w-wouldn't help me. At first, the doctors at the hospital called me a drunk, left me lying in the hallway until my blood labs came back negative for alcohol."

Juliet's eyes filled with tears. She and Abby weren't the only ones fighting to survive that horrible night. The only difference was, Buzz thought he was fighting alone.

"Niagara ice wine, Buzz," Shawn said softly. "It was on Yin's breath when he was at the pier too." Shawn swallowed past the bile in his throat as his eidetic memory refused to let go of the smell.

Henry Spencer entered the room holding his ears against the howling fire alarms and Buzz suddenly looked panicked.

"Mr. Sp-Spencer, please go. "Y-you shouldn't have to – " he gestured wildly with his gun toward Shawn. "You weren't part of the plan."

Henry for his part grimaced as he looked at his son, trembling before a vat of hot wax on shaking limbs.

"Buzz, Francie wants to talk to you. She's at the hospital. She's not on shift there. She's a patient. She has something to tell you." Henry held out his phone to the young officer who looked at the phone as if it was a bomb and as he'd reminded them all, he knew what a bomb felt like.

"No more people!" Buzz screamed as Gus burst through the doors. Gus automatically put his hands up in the air but kept walking toward the sizzling vat of wax. There were just too many guns in here. Juliet saw the telltale crinkle of concentration of Lassiter's half-closed eye as he looked down the short barrel of his gun, the head detective's posture was rigid in grim determination…