A/N: Small quote credit to Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing.

TW: Flashback dream and some more feels.

"Hello, can I help-"

Lassiter flashed his badge with a death glare, cutting off the young woman standing behind the front desk, "Detective Lassiter, SBPD, I have a warrant to search the premises. I'm going to need to see any records you have for shipments that have gone through here in the last month."

"Uh… l-let me g-go find…" The worker stuttered as she stared with wide eyes at the angry detective. Gus didn't need to feel the fear in the taste of late-night hotdogs to know the kid was just there for a paycheck and didn't know anything about why the shipping yard was being searched.

"Records. Now." Lassiter snapped, impatiently.

Juliet stepped up next to her partner and gave him a firm look before turning to the worker, "Hi, I'm Detective O'Hara. Do you have a manager we could talk to?"

The worker nodded her head quickly and pointed towards a door in the back, "H-he's back there. Can I go…?"

"That would be great. We'll just look around while you get him, ok?" Juliet smiled encouragingly as she stepped on Lassiter's toes to cut off his growl.

The young woman almost sprinted to the back room, clearly trying to put as much distance as possible between her and the angry, armed detective.

"Carlton, stop it. She looks like she's in high school!" Juliet hissed.

"Hooligans and scum come in all shapes and sizes O'Hara." Lassiter snapped back as he walked behind the front desk and started flipping through the papers.

Shawn smirked as he leaned on the desk, cresting waves morphing back to his typical clicking thoughts, "You're showing your age Lassie, no one says 'hooligans' unironically anymore."

"Spencer, do not test me today. I will shoot you."

"Hello," An older man with a receding hairline and a salesman smile stepped out of the back room, "I'm the manager on duty today; I heard you wanted to speak with me. Can I help you?"

Juliet stepped in front of Lassiter before he could speak, "Hi, I'm Detective O'Hara with the SBPD…"

Gus ignored the rest of the explanation as he focused on the feeling of a clipboard in his hands and the smell of burnt rubber. He wasn't quite sure why, but the manager felt off; his speech was just a little too smooth, his smile just a little too bright. The only things he could tell for sure was that the man was calm and confident as he answered the detective's questions.

"I can get that paperwork for you, just give me a minute." The manager smiled brightly and turned to walk back into the other room.

"You know, we'd hate to keep you from your job any longer than we have to," Shawn said earnestly and Gus could tell he knew something was off about the manager as well. "We'll just come back with you. Field trip!"

The manager's smile dimmed for a moment as the smell of burnt plastic spiked, "I'm sorry, are you with the police as well?"

Shawn smiled brightly, "Shawn Spencer, lead psychic for the SBPD. Maybe you've heard of me? I'm kind of a big deal."

'For crying out loud." Lassiter growled, "Don't encourage him. Records. Let's go."

The manager nodded and led them to the back room. "I told Brenda to take a break, she's in the next building over if you need to talk with her. Here's our records." He unlocked a filing cabinet and began to pull out several folders. "You said everything from this month?"

Shawn held his hand to his head, "I'm sensing we won't need to look past the last five days."

The manager nodded and pulled out one of the files from his arms, handing it to Juliet, "That's all of the inbound and outbound shipments for the last week."

Shawn moved to look over Juliet's shoulder as she flipped through the pages. Gus felt the clipboard press harder into his hands and he focused on the feeling: calm, worker schedules, a framed picture of a fruit bowl hanging on the wall, a burst of worry, a list of shipments coming in the next hour. Calm.

Gus smirked and looked around the room, quickly finding the painting that the manager was forcing himself to ignore.

"Wait, that doesn't make sense…" Shawn frowned as he read the papers in Juliet's hands.

"Doesn't it? Mexico makes a lot more sense than Russia." Juliet tried to console him, "maybe the spirits just got a little mixed up. It's happened before."

Shawn shook his head and looked back, meeting Gus' eyes. Gus looked pointedly towards the painting and Shawn followed his gaze, grinning when he understood. He shot his hand out, covering the papers Juliet was holding, "Lies! They're all lies!" He looked at the words on the page, "Well, maybe not all of them… But there are lies on these pages!"

Shawn started to make his hand shake, the paper flopping at the movement, "Woah, the spirits know where the truth is, it's close…" He reached his hand out and started stumbling across the room as if being pulled to the picture of fruit. His hand landed on the painted pineapple, "Of course! Pineapples are the embodiment of truth, all sweet and pointy and juicy..."

He ran his hand across the painting and down the side before grabbing the edge of the frame and swinging it out, revealing the safe behind it, "And the truth will set you free."

"We're going to need you to open that." Lassiter growled at the manager.

The smell of burnt rubber twinged with nerves even as the manager looked at the safe with a slightly confused look, "I've never seen that before, I'm sorry but I don't know how to open it."

Shawn looked at Gus and raised an eyebrow. Gus nodded and closed his eyes, focusing on the burning smell: He needed to retrieve the real records for his boss, they needed to prove it wasn't their fault that some of the product went missing. He opened the safe and grabbed a handful of papers.

Gus opened his eyes and quickly dropped his hand that had moved to the side of his head. He looked around and saw that everyone was being distracted by Shawn dancing in front of the safe. Shawn glanced his way, making sure he was ready, before starting to speak, "I can hear the spirits, they're trapped with the truth, they're trying to tell me how to free them… But I can't hear… It's too muffled. I need help, I need…" Gus sighed, knowing what was coming, "...Magic Head!"

Gus rolled his eyes and walked over, letting his head be grabbed as Shawn spoke to his forehead like it was a magic 8 ball, "Oh magic head, tell me how to set our spirit friends free!"

Gus fought back the urge to smack the hands away, instead he whispered under his breath, "43,9,16"

"Forty-three!" Shawn yelled in Gus' face as he keyed in the number. Gus flailed out from under Shawn's hand and glared.

Shawn grinned back as he yelled the second number, just as loudly, "Nine!"

A spike of fear ran through the burnt rubber as Shawn finished quietly, "and sweet, sweet sixteen."

Shawn opened the safe with a flourish, revealing several stacks of files and papers within. He traded a subtle fist bump with Gus as they both stepped back and the detectives moved in.

Lassiter grabbed the stack of papers and flipped through them quickly as Juliet gave Shawn an appreciative look, "I shouldn't be surprised anymore, but that was amazing!"

"Son of a bitch…" Lassiter mumbled as he stared at one of the pages.

"What did you find, partner?" Juliet asked.

"Nosco shipment of glass panes inbound from shipping code RUVVO… That's Vladivostok, a Russian port."

A surprised silence followed the announcement. Shawn finally asked what everyone else was wondering, "You just knew that off the top of your head?"

Lassiter snapped back, defensively, "What? Ford met Brezhnev there when he went to sign the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty during the Cold War…"

"Why are we friends?" Shawn asked in bewilderment.

"We're not." Lassiter growled back.

Gus cut in, knowing that conversation wouldn't go anywhere good with Lassiter in his current mood, "Does it say where the glass came from?"

"There's a listed company, but it's in Russian. Of course…" Lassiter sighed in frustration, "We'll have to look into it, figure out our next steps." He turned to the manager, "We're going to need to talk to you at the station, your boss too."

The clipboard bounced nervously on Gus' hand as the manager spoke smoothly, "Of course, I'll get his contact information for you. Would I be able to come to the station after my shift? I'm the only manager on duty…"

"That should be fine." Juliet answered, "We're going to need to look around outside before we go."

"The spirits are quiet now; I don't think there's anything left for me to do here." Shawn announced grandly before throwing his arm around Gus' shoulders, "I am, however, sensing pizza in the near future."

"No Shawn." Gus stepped away and glared, "We do not eat pizza in my car. Not since the 2009 cheesegate!"

"Gus! That was a one-time experiment!" Shawn argued as he waved to Juliet and they started to leave, "I promise it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't, because you're not getting pizza." Gus argued back, "Do you know how long it took to get the cheese off of the ceiling?!"

"I saw it in a movie!"

"It was an animated movie!"

"So?" Shawn asked, "How long are you going to hold that against me?"

"Forever, Shawn. No pizza in my car. Ever."

Shawn climbed into the car as he thought, "What about pepperoni rolls? Same taste, no sticky cheese…"

"Fine, but no dipping sauce." Gus answered as he turned on the car.

"Well then what's the point?"

Gus rolled his eyes, "So why'd we leave Lassie and Jules?"

"One, I'm hungry. Two, the Caminos had a new shipment just a few days ago, there won't be anything to see now. Three, Lassie wasn't being very nice."

"I told you he likes me better." Gus said with a smirk.

"Of course he does, I never disagreed with that." Shawn replied, waving his hand dismissively, "Here's hoping that dinner goes well and we can get regular-grumpy-Lassie back."

"Marlowe can be pretty charming…" Gus said hopefully.

"I wonder where the dinner is…" Shawn wondered as his thoughts began to bounce faster.

Gus shook his head, "No Shawn, you are not crashing that dinner. The last thing Lassie needs is for you to be mucking things up."

"Or maybe that's exactly what he needs!" Shawn replied excitedly.

"If you want a chance at him ever admitting you guys are friends, then you need to leave this one alone."

Shawn huffed and they drove for a few minutes in silence before Gus groaned in defeat, "What pizza place were you thinking?"

Shawn grinned, "I thought pizza was banned…"

"You're craving it… so now I'm craving it. Thanks for that." Gus clicked his tongue at Shawn, "Just don't make me regret this."

"Gus, when have I ever made you regret trusting me?"

"... You're cleaning up the mess this time."

"Yeah, that's fair."

Gus opened the door to his apartment while arguing over his shoulder, "What if I don't want to be Samuel L Jackson?"

"Why would you not want to be Samuel L Jackson?" Shawn countered and followed him in.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because he got his arm chewed off?"

"But at least he didn't get eaten on the crapper." Shawn pointed out.

Gus glared and asked, "Why can't I be one of the ones who actually survives?"

"You're absolutely right. You're Lex. Runs away all the time, brave when she needs to be, hacker, picky food tastes…"

"I would never be a vegetarian, Shawn."

"Whines about perfectly good jokes…"

"Fine." Gus snapped back, "Then you're Tim. Eating at inappropriate times, always getting into trouble, always trying to annoy people into liking him…"

"I was going to make a play for Malcom, but you may have a point." Shawn grinned as he flopped onto the couch.

Gus looked nervously at his bedroom door, "You don't have to do this, you know. I'll be fine on my own."

Shawn shrugged, "Well I'm kinda locked into it now, you drove me here."

Gus replied quickly, "I can-"

"Dude, it's fine. Stop worrying and go to sleep." Shawn rolled his eyes before turning on the TV. "I'll wake you up if I hear you having a nightmare."

"I don't want this to be a regular thing…"

"Ok, so it won't." Shawn said easily, "This is just to make sure you don't wake up the same way twice in a row, yeah?"

Gus hesitated before nodding and walking to his bedroom. He could feel the exhaustion building behind his eyes; he knew he needed to sleep.

Shawn suddenly called out from the couch, "Hey, same rules apply to dreams…"

"I know, don't hold anything against you that you didn't think on purpose." Gus waved in acknowledgement without turning around.

He left the bedroom door slightly open and busied himself with getting his room ready. Once he couldn't stall any longer, he finally crawled into his bed and relaxed in the familiar sounds and smells around him.

He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

He tried to look around, but it was too dark. He couldn't see anything. A voice rose up from his memory, "It's said that when you're deprived of one of your five senses, the other four compensate by becoming sharper."

Gus stopped trying to look, and instead tried to listen. A rustle of paper, a small squeak, a fridge closing. He shook his head, those weren't important.

A loud boom, heat washing over his face, the smell of burning flesh. His heart stopped. He should have been faster, he should have been smarter, he should have just grabbed the detonator. He never should have thrown that phone…

Frantic sounds of distress muffled by water, ropes under his fingers, salty water against his lips as he tried to breathe life back into a cold unresponsive body. She was an innocent. He should have known, the picture had been there all along, he should have been faster. He never should have gotten her involved…

Waves crashing on the beach, the faint sulfuric smell of a recently fired gun, a body going lax under his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding. The case had been closed. He should have figured it out sooner, he should have run faster, he should have brought help. He never should have stopped investigating…

The smell of blood, thick plastic over stinging wrists, heavy panting as he tried to breathe around the duct tape over his mouth.

Stinging cuts and aching bruises all over his body. Pain bursting in his leg, pain searing on his arm. His eyes were squeezed closed, fighting to suppress the sounds he knew he couldn't release. This was the one thing he could still do to keep his friend safe.

*Clink clink*

Gus snapped his eyes open. Not again, please not again.

The mad scientist turned around, glass syringe in hand, grinning at the reactions of his captives.

Gus watched, helpless to do anything, fury running through his veins as the mad scientist taunted his best friend. He couldn't even try to redirect the bad guy's attention back to him. He had to stay quiet, or his friend would pay.

"You will choose who gets it." The bad guy held up the needle and smiled, showing too many teeth, "And you will choose…" His crazy blue eyes flicked over to stare at Gus with a manic giggle, "you don't have a choice."

Gus glared back over his gag, wishing he could tear the bad guy apart and force him to eat his own innards.

He really hated being the leverage.

His friend had frozen at the word 'choose', staring into space as his whole body visibly shook. Gus tried to think reassuring thoughts at him, but they didn't seem to help.

The bad guy stopped and cocked his head to the side, watching his shaking captive, "You know, I don't think he's listening to me… "

He tutted and placed the syringe on top of a small metal box, making sure it was clearly visible. He pulled out his scalpel as he turned to face Gus, inspecting the bloody knife's edge. "It would be a shame if I had to repeat myself again about proper behavior, don't you agree?"

The bad guy met Gus' eyes and waited. Gus bit back a growl and forced himself to answer the question with a nod, feeling dirty for agreeing with the bastard. But it was a small price to pay to keep his friend safe.

"Good, I'll leave you to it." The bad guy grinned and put the scalpel back in his lab coat. "I think it's time for some apple pie. Make sure he's ready with his choice when I come back."

The mad scientist hummed to himself as he sauntered to the stairs and went back to his date.

Gus immediately let his growl out as he thought about all of the curse words he wished he could say. He let out a sharp breath through his nose and focused on his friend; he needed to calm him down. Gus tried to think of something that would be easy to argue about and quickly remembered the knife that had both of their blood on it. Dark, but it would work. He imagined two friends cutting their hands and shaking on a new brotherhood, sending the thought out towards his friend.

His friend's eyes were still locked on the syringe as he gasped for breath, not paying attention to the broadcast. Gus ground his teeth together in frustration; his friend had managed to calm him down from two panic attacks already, he should be able to return the favor. Even without the added threat from the bad guy.

He glared at the needle causing the panic. It was obvious who should get it. It had been his stupid idea; his friend shouldn't have to pay.

His friend had already paid enough for Gus' mistakes.

Gus nodded at his decision and closed his eyes to send a memory; they seemed to be 'louder' than imaginations. He needed to let his friend know that it was ok, he didn't have to feel the fire again. Maybe that could calm him down.

He remembered sitting on a couch, the smell of popcorn in the air, the TV paused on an image of Sandra Bullock, his fingers running along his bandaged wrist. "I'd have taken the needle for you if I could've."

Gus opened his eyes and looked over, hoping for a reaction. His friend had his eyes squeezed closed as he struggled to breathe, completely oblivious to anything around him. Gus groaned and tried to think of something else to try when he heard the stairs creaking. He felt a rush of fear; it was too soon, he hadn't been fast enough, he had failed again.

"Oh dear, I think you broke him…" A female voice spoke up and Gus turned his head to glare at Rhianna. That bitch.

"Hmmm, yes, I think you're right. Well, he's no use to us like this…" The scientist stroked his friend's head before pulling it back and bringing out the scalpel. Gus started fighting against his restraints as fire climbed up the walls. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

The scalpel began to cut and he yelled through his gag, hoping against hope he could somehow stop this from happening. Blood spilled and there was a hollow clunk of bone against cement, somehow audible over the inhuman screams coming out of his friend's mouth.

Gus saw the fire climb his chair and welcomed it, anything had to be better than just sitting here and not being able to do anything. He looked over one last time and saw a glimpse of an exposed brain before the fire obscured his vision.

"Gus, this is your scheduled wake-up call. Up and at 'em. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey…"

Gus woke up with a gasp to a hand shaking his shoulder, still able to hear the echoes of his own screams in his mind.

"Well good morning to you too. I came in as soon as I heard you making any noise. Which would be creepy in almost any other context…"

Gus sat up with a groan, listening to his friend's chattering words and ponging thoughts as he looked around and took in the familiar sights of his bedroom.

"You know the drill, I gotta know you're back with me…" Shawn's voice suddenly sounded uncertain, "Did it help?"

Gus remembered to speak, "Yeah. Kinda. You woke me up before the fire got to me, so… yeah."

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and grabbed a spikey ball from his side table. He took a deep breath and ran the ball between his hands, focusing on the pinpricks of sharp pressure instead of the visual of his sliced open head.

Shawn sat next to him with a sigh, "But you still saw stuff you didn't want to. Sorry…"

"Don't be. Like I said, it helped." Gus was quiet for a moment, thinking about the dream. "I didn't even see that much more than I do in my own dreams… You ever feel like part of us is still stuck in that basement? Like, we got rescued, but a piece of us got left behind?"

"Well, if that's true, then I've got little pieces of myself all over the place." Shawn answered lightly, "And I mean that in the not-gross way. And the gross way, if we're being completely honest."

Gus made a face, "I did not need to know that."

Shawn smirked, " But now you do, and you didn't even have to dig for it." He thought for a second before continuing more seriously, "I figure, I still think about Yang and my mom, and that was two years ago. I dunno if that means a part of me got left there, but I know I still think about it."

Gus remembered the beginning of his dream, "You think about what would have happened if things went worse."

"Sometimes, yeah. I can't really think about it much, it's too easy to get stuck in there." Shawn held his hand to his head with a sarcastic smile. "But, like I said, that was two years ago. Dahmer was only three months ago. It makes sense he's still on our minds."

Gus couldn't help but huff a bitter laugh, "You know, I don't think I've said his name since I finished giving my statement to Lassie? Hell, I don't think I've even thought it…"

"Ah, you're doing the Harry Potter thing." Shawn replied with a knowing nod, "You know, the thing they do with the no-nose dude. His name starts with a V… Volderdash, Volkswagen, Vince Vaughn…"

Gus rolled his eyes, "Voldemort."

"You said his name, now you're cursed." Shawn said with a ghost of a smirk.

"That's not how it works."

"It's not?"

Gus narrowed his eyes, "I know what you're doing. And no, it's not. One of the main points around all of that is how the fear of the name increases the fear of the person…"

"Or…" Shawn held up a finger in correction, "The dude is too much of a doucherydick to deserve a name."

"Maybe." Gus shrugged uncomfortably and tossed his spiky ball back onto the table. "All I know is that he's gone and I wish he'd get out of my head."

Shawn stayed quiet at that and Gus could hear a faint echo of guilt coloring his thoughts, matching the guilt he had felt in the dream. Gus shook his head slightly, his hate towards the dead bad guy growing even deeper for the mental scars he had left on both of them.

Gus paused, thinking about their physical scars and his friend's guilt. Maybe he could help with that. He reached out to tap the faint crisscrossed lines on Shawn's arm, "You said that wasn't my fault, right?"

Shawn was pulled out of his thoughts with a jolt of surprise, "Of course it wasn't your fault. You said it yourself, he was insane and enjoyed hurting people."

"Good." Gus nodded in agreement before tapping his own scars, "Then you'll agree that this wasn't your fault. None of it was."

Shawn froze, his thoughts stuttering, before he huffed a humorless laugh, "Your therapy research is showing through again."

"I just needed you to hear it." Gus knocked their shoulders together, knowing better than to push his point, but hoping that it at least gave Shawn something to think about, "How long did I sleep?"

"About three hours."

"Better than I thought I'd get…" Gus admitted. He did some quick math in his head and stood up, holding out a hand to Shawn, "Let's get a snack then I'll drop you off at your bike. I've got just enough time to hit some of my route before the offices start to close."

Shawn took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled off of the bed, "Man, I can't believe you're still doing that job. It's so boring…"

"Boring can be good sometimes." Gus wished Shawn was the kind of person he could casually hug, but he knew that would just freak him out. So, he did the next best thing, shoving Shawn's shoulder lightly and starting a new argument, "Besides, being able to pay for cable isn't boring."

"Ouch, shots fired!" Shawn grinned as they made their way out of the bedroom, "For the record, Psych's cable hasn't been shut off in over a year now."

"That's because you're stealing it from our neighbor!"

"But you aren't having to pay for it. And you're right, that's not boring at all!"

"I'm always right." Gus answered primly as he grabbed his keys.

"Hmm, that can't be right." Shawn shook his head, "Because I'm always right, and we're always arguing. So, really, you have to always be wrong. It's just the natural order of the universe."

"You're wrong so often, don't even."

Shawn looked up, as if in deep thought, and his thoughts clicked in amusement, "Nope. I have perfect memory and can't think of a single time I was wrong. Facts don't lie."

Gus paused with his hand on the doorknob, "Seriously man, thanks."

"For always being right? That's just my burden to bear." Shawn shot off before his smirk softened, "You'd do the same for me."

"Damn straight." Gus agreed as he opened the door and they left the apartment.

Gus came back to his apartment that night, feeling satisfied after a productive afternoon. He knew it didn't win him any points from his boss, but being able to do a full day's work in only a few hours would always be something he was proud of. The fact that his sales numbers were on par with most of the other full-time salespeople was just an added bonus.

He dug around in his fridge and found some leftovers to heat up as he thought about the rest of the week. With the rate things were happening, he wasn't sure how much free time he'd have for his 'real' job until the case was solved. He shrugged as he started the microwave; it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to catch up after a long Psych-week.

Gus brought his food over to his desk, mindlessly taking a bite as he started his laptop. It wouldn't hurt anything to get a few more hours of work done before he called it a night. He logged into his work profile and pulled up his client list, scrolling through until he found the right spot to add his newest client.

He reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out his collection of business cards, smirking at the Psych cards that had his personal number written on the back. He allowed himself a second to wonder what dating as a psychic would be like before shaking the thought away. That was something to deal with when there weren't bodies piling up in the morgue.

He flipped through the cards and found the one for the doctor he had met a few hours ago. He paused as he saw the card under it, simply a white card with a phone number written on it. He grimaced and tossed it on the corner of his desk to deal with later. He quickly added in his newest client's information to the spreadsheet and finished his food, making sure to clean and put away his dishes before finally picking the white card back up.

He had decided what to say, he just had to make the call and say it. Gus gave himself to the count of five before he finally dialed his phone and lifted it to his ear.

Rhianna answered at the first ring, "Mr. Guster, I was starting to think you wouldn't call. I'm glad you've decided to make the right decision, we can meet-"

Gus cut her off, "I'm not helping you. And you might want to think twice before contacting the police. In case you forgot, we both got arrested last time. I won't be much use to you in jail."

"You aren't much use to me now, either, are you?" Rhianna responded coolly.

"Whelp, that sucks for you." Gus hung up, not waiting for her response. He realized, after the fact, that he should have called her on a public phone instead of his personal cell. He sighed and tossed the phone onto his desk, there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

Gus stared at his laptop for a few minutes before giving up and closing the lid. He wasn't in the mood to read about drugs anymore. Right now, he just wanted to zone out to the TV before trying to go to bed.

He grabbed his phone and moved to the couch, sending a text to Shawn: "Called R, told her to shove it. Be ready for that tomorrow."

Shawn answered back quickly: "Had dinner with Jules, home now. You good?"

"I'm good. You left Lassie alone, right?"

"Jules wouldn't let me bug him. You can check with her if you don't believe me."

Gus thought about doing just that before deciding he didn't want to deal with the fallout if Shawn was lying. "Good. See you tomorrow."

"Knight Rider's on Retro."

Gus smirked at the recommendation and turned his TV on, quickly changing the channel to the retro station. There was something soothing about good, old fashioned, campy 80's shows.

He forced all thoughts of Rhianna and scientists and syringes out of his head. He'd set things into motion and the ball was in her court now. He hoped he'd made the right choice.