Hey - hope some people are enjoying! If so send me a line (don't know how many read this fic). Sorry again to all my Stargate readers - this may not be your 'cup of tea'.
It had started just over two weeks ago, at the same time that they were brought onto a new case by Chief Vick. It was an important case, she'd told him, involving a local philanthropist and company executive. The person involved was a close friend of the Governor and they'd wanted it handled carefully.
"Careful is my middle name", he'd told Gus as he bounced out of the police station.
"No it's not – it's Henry", his friend always liked to deflate him like an overripe melon.
"Well, it should be 'careful'. Henry is just so – ugh."
"It's your father's name", Gus had pointed out – needlessly thought Shawn. He already knew his father's name.
"So, let's go get something to eat", he'd suggested, changing from the boring subject of his father's name to something much more important. "All this sleuthing around has made me hungry."
"What sleuthing?" Gus asked. "We just got the case five minutes ago."
"Yeah – but my psychic brain works in dog years. It's like – five minutes for you is – weeks to me."
"it's dog years Shawn, not minutes. And it would be thirty-five minutes , not weeks."
"Hey, how come you're raining all over my umbrella today?"
"I think you mean 'parade'."
"I've heard it both ways. So, how come?"
Gus sighed. "I'm not raining on anything – I just think we should get on this case right away. The Chief said it's important."
"Okay – fine", Shawn huffed. "But don't blame me if they find me at the side of the road, a desiccated shell of a man whose potential was destroyed because his friend wouldn't let him eat."
"Fine – we'll stop at Eureka Burgers. It's on the way to Johansson's."
Sean nodded, happy to be able to stop for food as they headed to the office of the man being investigated. He knew he'd be able to think much better on a full stomach.
It was when they'd gone in to get their burgers that Shawn first felt something strange. He'd quickly glanced around, but didn't notice anything different. He immediately decided he must have been imagining things because if there had been something he knew he would have spotted it.
The feeling returned, however, the next day. It was almost as if he was being watched. But why – and by whom? It could relate to their new case, although he didn't think so. He and Gus hadn't really done anything that would make anyone nervous – at least not yet. It could have been something from their previous case, although the criminal in that one was behind bars.
He shook off the strange feeling and went back to trying to figure out who was the guilty party in what he was calling the Governor's Little Adventure.
By the third day he knew something was wrong – he just didn't know what. He hadn't seen anyone suspicious and there was nothing to actually report, but he had a gut feeling that someone was watching him. He almost laughed at that – maybe he was turning psychic for real! Unfortunately a feeling – no matter how strong – really wasn't enough to go to the cops on, even if he did it on a regular basis with other cases. This time – because it was about him – he knew he'd need more.
Well – you should never ask for something unless you really want it. The forth night he definitely got more. He was out walking late – he liked to go down by the beach at night when he was trying to figure out a case. No one really knew he did it, but the sound of the water and the darkness allowed him to focus and to remove all other extraneous sights and sounds. He was standing quietly, looking out at the ocean, when something struck him so hard across the back that the air was forced from his lungs and he was thrown to the ground, gasping and writhing.
By the time he was able to breathe, whoever had attacked him was long gone. He felt in his pocket to check that his wallet was still there. Relieved, but confused, when he found it he frowned. What the hell had that been about? He glanced around but he was alone on the beach.
It could have been some psycho or maybe a drunk but somehow he didn't think so. He was pretty sure – why he didn't know – that this was connected to whoever had been following him. But why would the man – he assumed it was a man, even if that was sexist – hit him and then run? Sure it had hurt – probably left a lovely bruise across his back – but it hadn't done that much harm. He didn't even need to go and get it checked out. He shook his head. This was getting really strange.
A few other incidents happened over the next few days, so minor as to make him think he might be imagining things. He'd tripped and fallen when he was walking down the street and fortunately a bystander had managed to catch him and keep him from doing a face-plant. He'd thanked the guy and only then was able to think back to what had happened. He knew that he'd been tripped. He tried to remember the faces that had been around him at the time and was frustrated when he couldn't picture his attacker. It just wasn't like him!
Then there was the key not working in his door. He tried for almost ten minutes and had to finally call a locksmith. The man informed him that he had the wrong key for the lock. He'd frowned – he'd used this key for months. It was only when he'd looked closely at the deadbolt that he realized it had been changed. He immediately rushed inside, but after an extensive search he decided nothing had been touched, which was strange in and of itself. The frustrating thing was that he had to pay to have another lock installed. He couldn't have some weirdo out there with the key to his place.
The final straw had been when the doorbell had rung and he'd answered it to find a delivery man – with an entire truckload of furniture waiting to be delivered.
"Uh – I didn't order that", he'd told the guy.
"Name of Shawn Spencer?" the man had asked.
"Yes, but -"
"Then it's yours. Just sign here." He handed him a clipboard.
"No – no, you don't understand. I didn't order any furniture – it's not mine."
"Well, I've got to get it out of my truck. I have another order behind yours. I'll just have to put it in your driveway for now."
"NO – it isn't mine and I don't want it here. You can take it and return it the store." But the man didn't listen so he'd had to call the store and have them come and pick everything up. They'd tried to make him pay – but they had nothing to prove he'd ordered it. Someone had paid cash. He threatened to call the cops, or sue – or send Tiddly the Clown to their head office. The Clown suggestion worked and they picked the furniture up and didn't charge him.
Thank God people hated clowns!
It was after the furniture incident – which could have been viewed as little more than a prank – that the calls started. At first it just heavy breathing. He'd hoped it was Jules, although he was pretty sure it wasn't. After that he'd started to get seriously creeped out. What guy would call and breathe heavily at him? It was the fourth call, however, that started him seriously worrying.
The man – again, he was sure it was a man – began to whisper obscenities. He described, in pretty gruesome detail – what he planned to do to Shawn when he got him. Some of the words Shawn didn't even know – but when he looked them up he felt nauseated. This was definitely getting out of hand!
Still – the case with the cops was still going on and things hit the fan just about the time his mystery stalker ratcheted things up. He debated mentioning it to Jules at the time, but she was pretty stressed so he decided he could leave it until the case was solved.
He wished now he hadn't. It was the day after they caught the real culprit – after embarrassing the company president and friend of the Governor – that things really got bad. Shawn got a note – left on top of his desk at Psych – which warned him he was going to die – slowly and painfully.
He drove away from Gus feeling numb. It had been a long time since he'd had this feeling of utter rejection – probably since he'd found out that his parents had split. He tried to reason with himself that Gus would get over it – but inside he knew that wasn't going to happen. For the first time that he could ever remember, Gus had sounded like an adult who knew his own mind – an adult who had just removed an irritant from his life and planned to move on.
Shawn kept driving – hoping that the feel of the open road, the wind whipping past his face would help him forget everything. Maybe he should just keep going? Did he really have anything here anymore?
He thought of his father. Henry would probably be relieved to get on with his life of retirement and not have to continuously worry about his disappointment of a son. Lassiter would be thrilled – he'd finally get rid of the pesky psychic who made his life hell. The Chief – she'd blink and go on with her life and career. Jules? He hoped Jules would miss him a little bit, but from the way she acted today she'd probably be relieved too. He was pretty sure she would find some nice upstanding accountant and settle down with 2.5 children.
Gus – well Gus had already made it clear he'd do much better without Shawn. And the fact was, he owed it to Gus to get out of his life. It was true that he held him back. If it wasn't for him Gus would probably have been a doctor by now. He thought about Gus' hatred of blood and decided that was his fault too. No – Gus was better off without him.
Buzz would probably miss him, Shawn reasoned, although he had a young wife and baby so probably wouldn't worry too much about him. In fact, the only person who would really miss him was Jaime, the owner of the Smoothie Hut and Enrico – the hot dog vendor. Their business would fall off dramatically if he were to leave.
He changed gears on his bike and passed the car in front of him – not knowing and not particularly caring where he was going.
He trod slowly up to his apartment, more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He'd driven for hours, only returning when he realized he barely had enough money for gas. If he was going to leave, he'd need to take out the rest of the cash in his savings account. He'd also have to close things up at Psych. It wasn't fair to leave it for Gus.
He opened the door – grateful that the key worked – and stepped inside. It took a moment before his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He took a step forward and the world exploded.
His assailant stood looking down at him, a strange small smile on his face.
Gus felt great – for all of ten minutes. He'd aced the interview, he was sure of it. The president had shook his hand and told him he was a real asset to the company and he'd be hearing from them soon. He was almost positive he'd gotten the promotion.
His first thought was that he had to call Shawn and tell him. His friend would be so – he stopped. Oh crap! He closed his eyes, remembering suddenly his last conversation with the man. What the hell had he been thinking? He'd allowed that prig, Dr. Evans, to convince him to ditch the most important person in his life. It's true that Shawn could be frustrating, irritating and downright bothersome – he was also fiercely loyal, courageous – and damn funny. He did bring out the child in Gus – there was no doubt about that – but there was also no doubt that that was exactly what he needed. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that without his friend he'd be a stiff, boring stuffed shirt.
Shawn didn't just bring out the child in Gus – he brought life to him. Gus knew he was a better man for his friend – stronger, braver and definitely more interesting. He also brought out the caring, nurturing side of him – because if there was anyone who needed loving care it was Shawn.
"Crap", he said again. He'd have to go and do some serious groveling. He had to go over to Shawn's and apologize. He wondered if a smoothie would be enough, even a pineapple one? No – he knew it wouldn't be. He'd have to take him out to one of his favorite restaurants and then spend an evening or two watching A Team and MacGyver marathons. He grinned slightly. It sounded great.
He knocked for the third time but there was still no answer. That was strange, he frowned. Shawn's bike was here and he knew the man didn't have any other mode of transportation, not since the Blueberry had been out of his reach. "Maybe he has Henry's truck?" He didn't think it likely but you never knew. He could be running errands for his father.
Still, he'd better check to make sure everything was okay. He pulled out the key – the one Shawn had given him – and fit it in the lock. "What the –? " It didn't work. He tried again but it was obvious it was the wrong key. Shawn had had the lock changed. Damn, he must have been really hurt.
And you're surprised, Guster asked himself? Of course Shawn was hurt. Wouldn't you have been if he'd thrown you out of his life? What a moron he was, he said to himself. He rubbed his head. He had to find Shawn and say he was sorry. He needed his friend.
Henry answered the door, drying his hands on the towel. He'd just arrived back from his fishing trip and was putting everything away. He cursed at the heat in the house, again thinking about his irresponsible son. What did he do to deserve Shawn? He'd asked him for a simple favor and he couldn't even do that!
"Yes, can I help you?" he asked the man standing there.
"Uh – it's Joe", the guy said. After a pause he looked surprised. "You know – about your air conditioner. I finally got the part it needed and came to finish it."
"Finish it?" Henry was confused. "What do you mean finish? You haven't been here before."
"Uh – yeah I have. I came here a few days ago – a young guy let me in. I checked over the air conditioner and told him it needed a simple part to fix it. Unfortunately I had to order one", he held up a small cylinder. "I didn't have any in stock. The young guy told me he'd let you know."
"Oh – oh yeah – sorry, I forgot. I've been away." He let the repairman in and suddenly felt foolish. He thought back to his conversation with his son and realized he hadn't even let him explain. He'd jumped to the conclusion that Shawn had screwed up – and had accused him unfairly. He was going to have to eat some serious crow!
As soon as – Joe – left he was going to call Shawn and apologize – and invite him over for a steak. Damn – what an idiot he'd been!
"Lassiter! O'Hara", Captain Vick called to her two detective. "I need to see you in here immediately."
Juliet looked at her partner, her brows lifted. "I wonder what that's about."
"Probably about the Scheffer case", he muttered. So far they had few, if any leads, and no idea as to the motive or the killer. They were all under stress and they knew that Vick was getting pressure from above. The Scheffers were a wealthy family in Santa Barbara and the victim had been Ida Scheffer's sister. She'd been visiting them from Pasadena and had been found strangled when the couple had returned from a night at the opera.
George and Ida Scheffer were the kind of people who expected to be handed anything they wanted – instantly. They used their wealth to bully people and to buy favors. When Madeleine Tumi – Ida's sister – was killed, they'd hit the roof. George had picked up the phone and had personally called the Mayor, accusing the police of not doing their duty and demanding instant results.
The Mayor had called Vick – relaying to her the necessity of wrapping the case up quickly. "And don't bring in that damn psychic", he snapped. "We can't afford any more bad press!"
She'd agreed, although personally thought that Shawn would have been helpful. She did agree that he could cause trouble so was torn about him, although she was pretty sure he'd get the results quickly, if not cleanly.
She had just received another – was it the third or fourth – dressing down from the Mayor, accusing her of 'piddling around' – when Shawn had come in to see her. She knew she'd snapped at him unfairly and chocked it up to the pressure she was under. Right now she'd throw her arms around him if he were to walk through her door.
"You wanted to see us Chief?" Lassiter stuck his head around the door.
"Come in Detectives", she said calmly. "Have a seat." Once the two were seated she regarded them carefully. She then cleared her throat. "Anything on the Scheffer case?"
"I'm sorry Captain", Juliet spoke, glancing at her partner. "We hoped we had something but it didn't pan out. I'm afraid we just don't have enough information – or evidence."
"How could a sixty year old woman – with no ties to anyone or anything criminal – be strangled with a house full of servants around her?" Vick asked, for the tenth time.
"The servants were in their rooms – separated from the main house", Juliet explained, although she knew the Chief already knew this.
"I know", Vick sighed, resting her head in her hands. "The Mayor just called."
Again, thought Juliet? She felt sorry for her boss – and glad she didn't have to deal with the man.
"He wants Spencer on the case."
"Now look here Chief", Lassiter practically exploded. "This is my case and it's not right that that – that – pseudo-psycho should waltz in here and stick his pointy nose in it!"
"Have you solved it yet Detective?" Karen asked calmly.
"No – but -"
"And are you close to solving it?"
"No – not yet – but give me time. I'll figure it out and we won't have to pay that smarmy -"
"Enough Detective. I know you don't want Shawn in on this, but the fact is – his arrest rate is the best in the department and the Mayor wants him. Even if I didn't – which I do – I'd have no choice, and neither do you!" She turned to Juliet. "Do you know how to get in touch with him? I tried to leave a message but it says his voice mail is full."
"That's strange", frowned Juliet. "He's usually pretty good at picking up messages. Have you tried Gus?"
"I did", she sighed. "He says he hasn't seen him in days, but he'll pass on the message."
"Days?" Juliet didn't think the two men went even one day – hell, even one hour – without talking. She suddenly worried that something was wrong. "What about Henry?"
"I haven't tried him yet – I wanted to ask you first." She gave a tired smile. "I kind of thought Shawn would prefer to have you tracking him down rather than his father."
"Why should any of us track him down?" Lassiter asked, the scowl seemingly permanently sketched on his face.
"Because we need him Detective", Karen said tiredly. "Please find him and fill him in on the details. We need this case solved quickly!"
As they were walking away from the Chief's office, Juliet couldn't help but think back to the last time she'd seen Shawn. She cringed at how rude she'd been to him. He hadn't deserved that from her. And it wasn't like she had been mad at him. She was tired and frustrated – and okay, a little sore at him for making them look incompetent – but still, he'd been trying to cheer her up and she'd practically bitten his head off. She'd have to apologize to him as soon as she saw him. She smiled. Maybe she'd invite him out for an apology dinner.
But first she had to find him. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.
Little did she know it would take much more than that to locate the lost psychic.
Shawn groaned and turned his head. It took him only a second to realize he was in deep, deep trouble.
"Crap!"