Sorry for how long it takes me to update this! I've been on the road as well as working on a couple of other stories. So - I saw the Psych finale last night and loved it but I'm oh so sad. No more Psych! We'll just have to make sure it lives on in Fan Fic.
They found the car, abandoned in a school parking lot, the next day. Shortly after Lassiter had put out an APB on it they received word that someone had reported it stolen. It turned out the car belonged to a night watchman, who hadn't noticed it missing while he'd been asleep during the day.
Shawn had known they wouldn't find Bill. The man might be crazy, but he was smart crazy. He could feel the fear and the tension knotted up inside of him. It was just a part of him now – and he suspected it might never go away. He also suspected that one day Bill would find him again – and that this time Shawn wouldn't be able to just slam the door in his face.
Of course that wasn't going to happen – Bill finding him – if Henry had anything to say about it. As soon as he'd returned home and discovered that Bill had been by, he'd gone ballistic. And since that day he barely let Shawn out of his sight.
It was driving Shawn slowly and steadily insane. On the one hand he appreciated the fact that his father was looking out for him, and a part of him felt relief that he was safe under Henry's watchful eye. But another part of him knew that life wasn't worth living if he was going to be stalked – benevolently it was true – by his own father.
And then of course, add to that Gus and Jules – and hell, even Lassy. They'd all taken it into their heads that their main purpose in life was to protect him. Again, it gave him a warm feeling – but also a really irritated, wanting to scream and run around and do something really stupid kind of feeling. At least he felt that way about everyone but Jules. She could stalk him anytime she wanted.
He had actually considered asking her if she'd sleep with him – only to help keep away the nightmares of course. He wouldn't actually expect her to sleep with him as in sleep – said with a smirk – with him. He'd thought better of it though – or at least Gus had thought better of it and had hit him over the head, telling him not to be stupid.
But he wanted to be stupid! A maniacal, sadistic killer was after him and if there was ever a good opportunity to get the girl of your dreams to spend time with you and hold you and comfort you it was now.
He sighed. Okay – so maybe it wasn't the best time. It really wouldn't be fair to Juliet – and he still knew that she could do way better than him. Even though the 'Bill at the Door Episode' had somehow snapped him out of his deep depression, he was still feeling vulnerable and guilty. He knew he wasn't worth that much and certainly Juliet could do better than him.
So, he was going crazy and he knew he'd have to do something before he ended up losing it completely. He also needed to make sure that his friends and his father got their lives back. They were wasting way too much time on him.
He was able to get around much better now, although he was still weak and still had some trouble walking. He had a terrible limp and the doctor wanted him to continue to use crutches, even though he tended to conveniently forget them. He had to go to therapy three times a week and do exercises every day. He hated it.
He sat at the table that night, picking at his dinner. He knew his Dad was worried about him – he continued to nag and criticize – Henry's typical way of dealing with concern for his son. Why he didn't simply say – "Hey Shawn, what's wrong? I'm worried about you." Shawn didn't know. Still, after all these years it was a pattern he understood – and for some warped reason, appreciated.
"Are you just going to sit there and let that go to waste?" Henry wanted to know. "I spent a lot of time cooking that you know. And steaks don't grow on trees!"
"Really?" Shawn looked up in surprise. "That's why that stake I planted didn't grow!"
Henry rolled his eyes. "Come on kid – eat your dinner."
"Dad?"
His father had stood up to clear the table, but turned back at that. "What" he frowned, clearly hearing the serious note in his son's voice?
"Uh – I want to – I'm – " He suddenly switched gears, unable to say what he'd really wanted to say. "You have a -" Shawn pointed to his own chin, indicating that Henry had something on his.
"What?" Henry rubbed his chin. "Did I get it?"
"Oh – yeah – it looked like a mushroom or something."
"Shawn, we didn't have mushrooms for dinner."
"No? I thought we did. Hey, maybe you have some kind of fungus infection!"
Henry rolled his eyes and turned back towards the kitchen. He didn't see the suddenly serious expression that fell over his son's face.
Shawn wanted to kick himself. Why didn't he just tell his father that he needed to get out of here – he needed to get back to his life, such as it was? Not that he really had anything waiting for him outside his father's house. It's not like he could return to Psych. He'd lost the touch – lost the interest. No, what he'd really lost was the innocence and wonder that had made it all fun. He felt like he'd finally started to grow up, that Bill had forced him to grow up – and he hated it.
"What is it Shawn?" His father's sudden hand on his shoulder just about made him scream. It did make him jump about ten feet off his chair. "Hey – take it easy, it's just me."
"God – don't scare me like that Dad! I thought it was -"
Henry frowned and looked worried. "You thought it was -"
"A zombie", Shawn interrupted quickly. "You know – they tend to get in your house when you're not looking. You've got to watch out for zombies. Hey, we should get some garlic and spread it around – keep them out."
"That's vampires Shawn."
"Why would spreading vampires around keep zombies away? Unless they fought each other. Hey – what would happen if a vampire sucked zombie blood? They're both kind of – undead already. It might be -"
"Shawn, stop it!" His father squeezed his shoulder and then moved so that he was sitting in the chair beside his son. Leaning forward he asked, "just tell me. What is it? Are you still thinking about -"
"Nothing", Shawn interrupted again. "I'm not thinking of anything – at all – nada – zip – niet – nothing. He stood up quickly. "Uh – I think I'll go to bed now. I'm kind of tired. Thanks for dinner."
Henry watched in concern as his son limped his way up the stairs. He finally sighed and sat down just as Shawn disappeared. He no longer knew what to do. Oh, Shawn was getting better physically but his emotional state was tenuous at best. He knew his son well, and knew that the young man was pretending – pretending and avoiding, two things he did well.
Of course Gus had noticed and was worried. He had even spoken to Henry about it, wondering what they should do. Henry, in turn, had called Maddie. She had suggested therapy and Henry had simply rolled his eyes and agreed. He knew there was no way in hell Shawn would agree to see a therapist.
Shawn needed to get back to at least some semblance of his former life. He had even suggested to Gus that the two of them should think about opening the Psych office again. Gus had agreed, but it hadn't gone anywhere. When Gus had suggested it Shawn had claimed there was a rerun of The Dukes of Hazard he had to watch instantly – and had left Gus without an answer.
Part of Henry was glad. He was still worried sick about his son and about the sicko who was still out there. He didn't want to let Shawn out of his sight, even though he knew that the over-protectedness was probably killing the young man.
"Damn it!" he slammed his hand down on the counter. "Why the hell don't they find the bastard and Shawn can get back to his ridiculous job. Where the hell are you Farris!"
Shawn could hear his father downstairs and felt even guiltier than he had before. God – he was ruining his own father's life – just like it seemed he had always done. If he'd only grown up to be a – a doctor or lawyer or garbage man or something – he wouldn't be in this predicament. Hell, maybe his father would be proud of him rather than having to constantly worry that he was going to get killed.
If he'd done what his father had wanted him to do – he stopped suddenly, lines appearing between his beautifully sculpted man-brows! His father had wanted him to become a cop. And that wouldn't have been any less dangerous so he needed to stop feeling so bad.
And if he'd been a garbage man he probably would have been crushed in one of those garbage compactors, and Gus would have found him – or maybe just parts of him – and he would have run screaming and thrown up and his father would have been disgusted that Shawn had gotten himself caught in a compactor and would have lectured his hand – the only part of him to be found whole – and -
He sat on his bed, tired and depressed and wishing Jules was here so he could flirt with her and tell her how beautiful she was. Instead all he had to look at were all the things he'd collected as a child, which were still spread all over his room.
Suddenly, checking out everything in his childhood bedroom, he wondered why in the world it was all still here. Why hadn't his father cleared it out – or better yet, made him clear it out. Henry could be a bit anal about things like this, and yet he'd never told Shawn to clear his room. Oh, he'd insisted he get things out of the attic and the garage, but never his bedroom. That was rather strange.
Feeling incredibly restless and wishing that he had the cojones to tell his father that he needed to leave – to try and get his life back – instead he started bouncing up and down, while seated on his bed. After a few seconds he stopped. For some reason it wasn't nearly as much fun as when he was young.
Now – if Jules had been with him, and they had been bouncing on the bed together – his mind shot to the possibilities of what else they could do on the bed together – and he couldn't help the smile. Okay – another reason to move out and back to his place. He could invite her over to his house and –
And what Shawn? Show her your horror movie collection? Play with your Hacky Sack's? Well – asking her to play with his Hacky Sacks sounded rather – he groaned. Get a grip Shawn and don't be an ass!
"That's it!" He stood up. He had to get out of here. He had to go home to his place. No one had seen anything of Bill for almost six weeks – or at least he hadn't seen Bill since he'd shown up that day. He was probably long gone by now and he couldn't live his life in fear.
He limped his way out of his room – hating the thought that it was still so difficult to get around. He also hated the many scars he'd been left with, both external and internal. "Stop it!" he whispered to himself. He was sounding much too – cynical - and that wasn't him. At least he didn't want it to be him.
"Dad!" he called. He jerked back in surprise when Henry appeared almost instantly on the stairs. "Whoa! What are you doing? How come you keep popping up like that?"
"Shawn", Henry breathed in exasperation. "What is it? You've been trying to say something to me all day. What do you want?"
"I – I want -" Shawn bit his lip and then opened his mouth. "Spaghetti – I want spaghetti with those little tiny peppers and lots of -"
"SHAWN!" His father had clearly had enough.
"Okay fine", he said really quickly. "Iwanttomovebacktomyownplace", he said in a rush.
Henry looked confused for the moment it took him to figure out what Shawn was saying – and then he went instantly from confused to obstinate. "No. No way. You're staying here Shawn and I don't want to hear any more about it. Just go to bed and get some sleep. Tomorrow I need your help putting new caulking in the bathroom." He spun on his heels and started towards his bedroom.
"DAD, Stop!" He took a couple of steps towards his father. "Listen to me. I want to go home – to my home. Look, I know you want me here, you want me to be safe, and I appreciate that, I really do. But I can't stay here for the rest of my life. I want to -"
"You want to what Shawn? You want to get yourself killed? You want to make it easier for that bastard to find you and kidnap you again? You want to go through some more torture? I would have thought once was enough but maybe you get some kind of secret kick out of putting yourself in harm's way. You like the thrill of it, don't you? Is that why you started Psych – because you needed the adrenaline rush of flirting with smugglers and thieves and murderers – and especially kidnappers? That's it, isn't it? Well, I'm not going to stand around here and let you go get yourself killed because you think I'm cramping your style. No way Shawn – no way!"
Shawn swallowed – feeling like he'd been physically punched in the gut. His father thought he'd intentionally done stuff because he enjoyed the danger – that he was some adrenaline junkie? It was so far from the truth as to be laughable. If there was any part of the job he'd hated – it was the danger. He loved solving puzzles – he loved using his unique talents to help people – and he loved being the center of attention. Yes, he admitted it – he was an attention junkie. But to say he liked danger – and to imply that he'd ever want to be tortured again - ? Suddenly he wondered if Henry really did know him.
"I don't -" He tried to choke out a defense but was suddenly feeling misunderstood and confused and lost and – very, very vulnerable – a feeling that instantly reminded him of his time with Bill. He could feel himself begin to shake. Pretty soon the shaking morphed into panic – and he began to have trouble breathing.
"Shawn. Shawn, SHAWN."
It was his father's voice –practically shouting in his ear that brought him back. The next thing he knew, his father's arms were wrapped around him and he was being held closely. Rather than bother him, or embarrass him, it made him feel safe and – loved. He sniffed. He was getting way too sucky.
"I'm okay Dad", he finally said as he pulled away. He wiped his nose on his sleeve – which of course caused his father to flinch and open his mouth. But, to give him credit, Henry didn't say anything.
"I'm fine – really."
"I'm sorry Shawn", Henry finally said. "What I said was – stupid and cruel and I didn't mean any of it. I'm just – I'm worried, okay?"
"Yeah, okay", he nodded his head, but wouldn't look at his father. As much as Henry had said it wasn't true, Shawn was pretty sure his father did believe it.
"Shawn – look at me."
It took him a few seconds, but he finally lifted his eyes and looked at his father – or at least his father's nose. He didn't know if he was up to looking him in the eyes.
"Shawn – listen – I did not mean it! I told you – I'm just worried. I know you don't like danger –ridiculous antics yes – danger no."
At that he finally lifted his eyes. His father looked sincere – which was a very odd look on Henry, his loving son thought.
"Okay Dad – but I still want to go home."
Henry's jaw clenched and he looked as if he was going to again blast his son. Instead he gave a sharp nod. "Under one condition."
Shawn looked at him suspiciously. "What?"
"That I go over there with you and do a security check and make sure everything is working. And you call in regularly to me, keep your cell phone charged at all times and don't leave without letting me know where you're going."
He hated this. He wanted to go off and be his totally impractical, immature self – but he knew it would kill his father. "Fine. Now can I go?"
Henry let out a breath and nodded. "I'll drive you over."
Shawn didn't know whether to feel fear or relief as they drove in silence to his apartment. Finally, after looking outside at the late summer day in Santa Barbara, he decided that he would have to choose how he was going to feel.
He chose relief – although underneath was still the fear that Bill would one day return.