A/N: Here's the next chapter. Merry Christmas! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, that's okay, because this is a gift and you should always except gifts. Especially from a strange person like me. :D

Italics are Shawn's thoughts.

Chapter 13

Shawn didn't want to feel. Feeling hurt. As long as he was able to keep his emotions bottled up inside he was fine. As long as he didn't go to Psych and remember all of his happy times he was okay. As long as he didn't remember his cases he remained blissfully numb. As long as he didn't talk to his friends and family there was no pain. But the problem was, they talked to him. Shawn was never alone. Even when Gus wasn't in the store, he could feel his presence outside and waiting; yearning to talk to him, but thankfully refraining most of the time. He could also feel his father thinking about him. Most of the thoughts feeling angry.

No one understood, but the mind-numbing work that Shawn did at the store, helped him to forget. It was easy to forget when he was working, when he was at home cleaning. The menial tasks that had once felt like the bane of his existence, were now Shawn's safe-havens. But now Shawn was having trouble sleeping. He would wake in a cold sweat after his nightmares and wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.

Once that started happening, Shawn would take long showers. Ones that used up all of the hot water and continued on way after the water was as cold as ice. But even then, he found himself with extra time on his hands. Extra time was bad. Shawn had considered cleaning, but that was what he did when he got off from work. Finally he started doing the only thing that would come to his mind. He would iron his good shirts and dress pants. Then spend hours, meticulously doing his hair.

The first time that he had slicked his hair back, he had nearly gone into shock when he looked in the mirror. But after the first few days, the shock was gone and Shawn had one more thing that he didn't care about. That list was actually starting to grow long, now that hair, pineapples, his motorcycle, Psych, and helping people were gone. The more things that Shawn didn't care or think about, made his life that much easier.

Shawn never examined his life too closely. If he did, then he would snap out of it and lose all of his hard work, and the pain and the memories would come back. With every passing day, Shawn was becoming the type of person that he hated. He was slowly starting to stop playing the part and was becoming it. He was becoming someone dull and lifeless.

Shawn was willing to continue on down that path, because, after Gus was no longer allowed in the store, most of the time he was so out of it that he didn't notice. His life was starting to become like the last half of the first two weeks, right after Shawn had seen Jamison's murders. The first half had been spent in a state of depression where he couldn't move, couldn't eat, drink or sleep. But then his mind shut off and he was like a zombie, nothing more than some soulless creature. His movements mechanical and automatic. If his body realized that it needed food, then he would eat. If it needed to relieve itself then it would. At one point it realize that it needed money. It needed to work.

Shawn wasn't always completely immersed in his zombie-like state. He mostly was when he was at home, but less so when he was at work. At work he had enough of his mind to talk and act like normal, except he wasn't acting like normal. And he knew that he wasn't acting normal but at the same time...he did. Shawn couldn't explain it. The only time that he wasn't completely trapped within himself was when he was fighting with Gus. And Shawn would have to say that their worst fight was the one that they had that very day.

Shawn had been a little late leaving work. The lock on his locker had been jammed. Fortunately it hadn't taken him very long to get it to open. But he still set out towards his bus stop at a quick pace. At first Shawn had missed riding his bike, but soon he got used to the bus, just as he had gotten used to his hair.

Even though Shawn wasn't as aware as he had been before, he couldn't help but notice the small blue car that started following him, but he just continued looking ahead and didn't acknowledge it. Just a bit further and then he would be safe on the bus. Unfortunately the driver of the car called out to him. Shawn wanted to ignore the greeting, but a combination of knowing that it wouldn't work and having half of his brain still turned off, he answered.

"Hello Gus."

"So Shawn...do you want a ride?" Gus asked.

A ride? In a car? Not on the bus? The bus! Oh gosh, what am I becoming? Gus help me. I'm spiraling and I can't stop.

As the thoughts came to Shawn, so did the pain. Quickly he cut them off.

"No thank y–" Shawn started to say, but stopped when he saw his bus drive away.

Shawn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What was he to do? He lived to far away to just walk. But he knew that Gus was wanting more than just to offer him a ride. Shawn didn't want to feel again. Even feeling for that brief moment it had hurt. But what else could he do? Even in his mindless state, Shawn was aware that he didn't like being alone outside.

"Yes please," Shawn was able to finally grit out.

Gus stopped the car, and Shawn hopped inside. He instantly regretted it. He could feel that Gus was planning on talking to him again. About what, he didn't know.

"So..." Gus said after a few minutes of silence, "we have a case."

A case? Wait, no. Cases were bad. Cases hurt.

"Let me out," Shawn commanded.

"Wait Shawn, just hear me out."

"NO!" Shawn didn't want to feel, didn't want to remember. Gus couldn't make him. "You can't just kidnap someone and expect–"

"Wait, kidnap?" Gus interrupted. "I didn't kidnap you, you got into the car of your own accord."

Did it matter? Gus had no right to do this to him. Why wouldn't he leave him alone.

"Oh, so if you let someone into your house and they take your stuff that's fine. That's not stealing?" Shawn said, trying to make a point.

"Shawn this is a completely different situation."

"No it's not, so let me out."

Shawn's mind was starting to come out of the fog. He was starting to think clearly. That wasn't good. He had to go.

Suddenly Gus pulled off the road and into a parking lot.

"You're not going anywhere until you've heard me out," Gus said, locking the doors.

Like locked doors could stop him. Why didn't Gus realize that Shawn just couldn't get over what happened. Some scars run just to deep. Why was he trying to hurt him so much?

"Yeah, like this is going to hold me," Shawn said, pressing the button to release his lock.

To Shawn's surprise Gus re-locked the door. Then he pulled a manilla folder from the back seat and started waving it in Shawn's face as he talked.

"Her name is Cammy," Gus said, "she is five years old and she disappeared from the back of her house two days ago. No one knows what exactly happened or who could have taken her, but it could have been anyone, because there had just been a funeral for her cousin, who was the same age, and there were people everywhere.

"Shawn this is right up your alley. All you need is something of the girl's and you'll be able to feel where she is."

Shawn needed this to end now. Just the thought of trying to use his powers again made his throat constrict and his breaths shorten. He couldn't...he couldn't...

"Gus, I am not psychic," Shawn made eye contact, so that his friend would know that he was serious. That he wanted him to stop. "I don't know where this silly notion of yours came from, but it needs to go. This is a job for the police."

"Who are you trying to kid?" Gus shouted, "we both know that you're psychic, why are you denying it?"

How could Gus not get it? How could he not understand?

"Because if I was psychic, why would I want to feel the pain of a little girl. What type of friend are you, for wanting that for me?" Shawn could feel the tears forming in his eyes.

Oh no, oh no. This was bad.

"I'm the type that wants my old friend back," Gus whispered.

Shawn wanted to cry. Everything was becoming to much again.

"Listen Shawn, you don't have to use your powers. You can solve the case the way you used to. Just come back."

Come back? How could he come back? How could he ever deal with what he had been forced to see? What he witnessed every single freaking day since he got his powers. Shawn had always been able to get through his work before, because he was able to sympathize, not empathize.

Gus touch Shawn's arm, and Shawn was suddenly bombarded with thoughts and feelings that weren't his. The emotional overload was too much.

"Don't touch me," Shawn snarled. "Don't ever touch me!"

"Why?" Gus shouted back, but Shawn wasn't listening. Everything was back. Everything! His wants, feelings, mind, and...powers. Oh gosh. They were back. They were back and felt just as strong as they had when Shawn had first discovered them. And Gus...why was he still talking?

"Shut up!"

"Shawn, you can do amazing things, you can help this girl. You need to help this girl, you may be the only one who can."

Shawn gave a sardonic snort, he didn't care anymore, he just had to get out of there. "Is this where you say, 'with great powers come great responsibility'?" he asked.

"You know what? It is. If you have the opportunity and means for helping someone, and you don't, then that is just as good as killing them. If this little girl dies, it's your fault."

If what Gus was saying was true, then Shawn was to blame for more than just this one possible murder. Other places, other times. Just because you could save someone didn't always mean that you were able to. He didn't need that. He didn't need to feel the weight of anyone else's burdens. He couldn't save everyone, and he felt that even more so at that moment.

Giving another sardonic snort, Shawn said, "it's just one more thing to a long list."

Then, unlocking the door, Shawn left.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going. Shawn's mind was to preoccupied with everything, to focus on that. Now that he was feeling again, his depression was starting to sink back into him. Slowly his breathing became more difficult. He had to get home. It wasn't safe for him out on the streets. For the first time Shawn took in his surroundings and had a full blown panic attack.

Where was he? Spinning around, Shawn looked about the streets frantically. He didn't know where he was. He didn't recognize the people walking around him. The atmosphere was wrong. It wasn't the one that he had become accustomed to. Nothing was familiar. And there were spirits here. Someone had died. They wanted him. They wanted help. Shawn could feel them pulling at him. They wanted him. He was going to be taken again.

Tears started to come up into Shawn's eyes.

"No!" he yelled. They weren't going to take him.

Grabbing at his hair, Shawn stumbled backwards into a wall. Upon hitting it, he bounced forward and collapsed onto his knees. Crouching in the fetal position, Shawn tried to calm his quickening breath.

"Excuse me sir, are you alright?"

Shawn looked up and, through blurry eyes, saw someone staring at him. He didn't know that person. What did she want? He could feel her thoughts and not all of them were good. Were the bad thoughts directed at him? What was she wanting? What was she planning.

"Get away," Shawn shouted, lurching to his feet and sprinting down the street.

He had to get away. Get somewhere safe. He wasn't safe. Needed home. Where was home? Pain. Pain. Oh the pain. Emotion. Hurt. It needed it stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Why couldn't he just die? Why? Why?

Shawn collapsed. Landing on his hands and knees, but he instantly buckled and rolled to his side. He was on sand. Sand? The beach! Shawn looked around and nearly cried out with joy, when he recognized where he was. He was near home. He'd be safe soon. Gasping back tears, he stood up and stumbled off of the beach and onto the streets. Home was close, so close. He could feel it.

The relief was overwhelming. So overwhelming that tears started to burn in his eyes again. Shawn fell a few more times as he drew nearer to his apartment, but he kept going and was finally rewarded for his efforts as he unlocked the door of his apartment and collapsed inside.

Safe. He was finally safe. But not for long. Soon the relief left, leaving Shawn feeling everything that he had been trying to block out for nearly a month. All of his hard work was down the drain, because he couldn't seem to muster us enough strength to make his feelings disappear again. He tried everything. He vacuumed; he re-washed the walls; he polished the coffee table. Nothing worked.

Shawn had just decided that he should try cleaning behind the refrigerator, again, when he collapsed. He couldn't breathe and he hurt everywhere. He hurt physically and emotionally. He couldn't move. In fact, Shawn didn't care if he ever moved again. Moving was just to much work, but dying wasn't. He could just lay on the floor of his apartment forever and waste away. He'd be dead in three days if he didn't drink. Three days wouldn't be bad. It wasn't too long of a wait.

Shawn's train of thought suddenly stopped as a wonderful and familiar presence enveloped him. Juliet was there. She was almost at the door and she wanted to talk to him. But Shawn could feel what it was that she wanted to say and that diminished his short lived peace, making his depression come back feeling ten times worse.

There was a knock at the door, but Shawn ignored it. He wanted her to go away, he didn't want to talk about the case. About the missing little girl. No, if he was quiet, then she would go away.

She didn't. She knocked again and Shawn was overcome with her desire to talk with him. He didn't want to talk to her, but her desire was so strong that Shawn felt himself struggling to stand and stumbling over to the door. He nearly fell, but caught himself on the door knob. Shawn wanted to ignore her so badly, but couldn't. So when she started to knock again, he answered.

"Yes?"

"Shawn, is that you?" he heard Juliet ask and he couldn't stop himself from thinking, who else would be here?

"What do you want?" Shawn's asked even though he already knew.

"I wanted to talk with you. Can I come in?"

Shawn didn't want to let her in, but he was already broken, so what did it matter? Slowly he opened the door, being careful not to fall seeing as the door was what was holding him up. As Juliet stepped inside, Shawn felt her surprise at how clean his house was. Then she confirmed her thoughts with words.

"Wow," Juliet said, "I never would have imagined your home to be so clean."

"You said that you wanted to talk to me," Shawn said as he shut the door. He didn't want small talk. He wanted her to say her peace and then get out as soon as humanly possible.

"Uh, yeah. I..." Juliet trailed off and then gasped. It made Shawn wonder exactly just how bad he looked.

"You what?" he prompted. Why was she taking so long? Why was she making him feel her worry for him? Didn't she know that it made him hurt?

"You don't look well," Juliet said, stating the obvious. Not only did he not look well, but he did not feel well. He hadn't felt well in a while.

"Well yeah...I had a fight with Gus," Shawn wasn't sure why he told her that. Maybe because he was finding himself not caring anymore. Or maybe it was just Juliet herself.

"About the case?" she guessed.

"Not you too," Shawn groaned. It didn't matter that he already knew what she was wanting to talk about, because it didn't make it any easier when the actual talk commenced.

"You used to be happy," Juliet said, her thoughts suddenly changing, just as they did before and always would. Luckily though, Shawn was used to the changes so he was able to answer right away.

"I'm happy now."

Goodness he was tired.

"You don't look it."

Obviously he didn't look it.

"Well everyone has their off days."

Why was she still here and making everything that much harder?

"You don't have to," Juliet said so quietly that Shawn almost missed it.

"What?"

"Well, happiness is a decision you make. If you choose to, you could be happy all of the time."

Juliet had no idea of the nerve that she struck. Happiness had always been a choice that Shawn had always made throughout his life. Living with a father like his, Shawn knew how easy it would be, to just be bitter. He knew that his life wasn't exactly ideal either. Moving from one place to another, almost always broke, dating one girl after another trying to find the right one and deep down being to afraid to take any relationship to seriously, for fear of ending up like his parents. Shawn could very easily have given up and been an angry person. Instead, he always looked for a silver lining, he always found a reason to laugh and if there wasn't anyway to make a situation good, then he would just smile until it didn't feel so bad. But he couldn't do that here. He couldn't make himself happy and he didn't appreciate Juliet making him feel like things were bad only because he wasn't trying. Because he chose to feel this way.

"What, so you're saying that if I'm miserable, then it's my own fault."

"No," Juliet said, and Shawn could feel how terrible she felt. "What I mea–"

"No," he interrupted, he felt bad enough without Juliet adding her feelings to the mix. Shawn knew that she cared, he knew that all of them cared, but now more than ever, he just needed to be alone.

"Just...get out. Just...please, go," Shawn felt like he was begging, but it worked.

"Okay," Juliet said quietly, but before she left, she placed the case file on his coffee table.

Once she was gone, Shawn's knees buckled out from under him and he hit the floor with a thud. His breathing was ragged and he felt like he had just ran a marathon. Talking with Juliet had taken more out of him than he had thought it would. It didn't help that she had left the case file there. In his home. Taunting him.

Long after Juliet was gone, Shawn found himself still staring at the file. He had been staring at it since Juliet left, but he still couldn't make himself look at it. And why should he? It wasn't his job, despite what others thought.

Even as Shawn talked himself out of what he knew his responsibilities to be, he found himself drawing closer to it. He didn't stop until he was sitting at his coffee table and his hands were resting mere inches from it. He couldn't look at it. He wouldn't look at it.

Shawn drew in a deep breath of the salty ocean air and then let out a contented sigh. He loved the beach, but he could hardly go there anymore, because of all of the people that were constantly there. Ever since he got his powers he couldn't go there and be at peace. But not today. Today there was no one else at the beach, he was all alone and enjoying every minute of it. Shawn was happy to be able to just sit back in the sand and listen to the waves crash.

Stretching out, much like a cat, Shawn stood up and started to walk along the long stretch of beach, keeping close to the water, but not close enough to touch it. Shawn was happy. Happier than what he had been for a while, because he knew that he wasn't going to run into Gus or Juliet. He knew that they were going to leave him alone.

As Shawn walked he noticed a smooth rock sticking halfway out of the sand. Bending down, he picked up the circular rock and then held it in the flat of his palm. He stared at it a minute, before turning to the water and throwing the rock into it. He knew that the water was to rough for the rock to skip, but it didn't matter, it was still fun to see how far out the rock would go.

"You're doing it wrong."

Shawn jumped at the sudden voice and turned to face the one person that he had least expected to see.

"Hello Dad," Shawn said sarcastically, "nice to see you too."

"Don't use that tone with me," Henry said, crossing his arms across his chest, "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Shawn muttered as he picked up another rock and just threw it into the water and it hit with a wet thunk. This time Shawn made sure that his posture was bad, just to tick his father off.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Shawn asked, annoyed that he didn't get a rise out of his father.

"I came to talk," Henry admitted.

"Great," Shawn said, his tone tired and irritated, "just what I need. Another talk, from another person who thinks that I've messed up. Tell me, who convinced you to come? Because I can tell you that I have no doubt that you didn't come here of your own free will."

"If you must know, it was Head Detective Lassiter that got to me."

"Great. Remind me to send him something horrible, like a fruit-basket that doesn't have pineapple, or a tin full of broccoli."

"Shawn..." Henry said, his tone warning.

"What, too immature for you?" Shawn interrupted.

Never one to beat around the bush, Henry dove right in. "Shawn, Gus told me what was going on with you. He told me that you are psychic."

Shawn froze. Had he heard right? His father knew? And Shawn wasn't in some institution?

"I really didn't want to believe it, but the other options were much worse," Henry continued sternly. "Besides, I'm a logical man, and this is where the logic points."

"Are you serious?" Shawn asked, turning to face his father, "you seriously believe that I'm psychic?"

"Unwillingly, yes."

Shawn ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "of all the times, of all the things, he picks now to believe me."

"What?"

"Nothing," Shawn said quickly. "So...is there anything that you want to know, or wanted to say?"

"Yes, there are a few things that I'd like to say, but there's something that I've got to know: Gus said that you hit your head and got your powers; is that exactly what happened?"

"I electrocuted myself, and then hit my head," Shawn said.

"Well that'd definitely do something to you," Henry breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The two men stood in silence for a moment.

"So, you said that you wanted to talk about something," Shawn prompted, starting to feel uncomfortable with the silence.

"Yes," Henry said, coming up and standing beside Shawn, both men faced the ocean. "They're trying to get you to help on a case, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Shawn said with a grimace, "they tell you?"

"No, I've been in the precinct long enough to know how they deal with cases like yours."

"Cases like mine?" Shawn asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes, cases like yours. Ones where you see something bad and can't accept it and can't come back to work. You see, the idea of what Gus and the others are doing is correct. You can't get better if you don't come back to work and face what hurt you head on. But in their eagerness, they seem to have missed something important."

"What'd they miss?" Shawn asked, unable to stop himself from being curious.

"That you haven't taken the first step." At Shawn's confused look Henry elaborated, "the first step in getting better, is admitting and accepting what happened and what you saw. The second is coming back. You have neither admitted, nor accepted what happened."

Shawn gave is father an incredulous glare. "I know what happened," he said, his voice hard, "I remember it very well."

"Remembering and accepting are two totally different things," Henry said, giving his son a long look.

"What would you know?" Shawn shouted, spinning to face his father head on, "you weren't there. You didn't see it."

"See what?" Henry challenged, his voice cool and calm.

"Oh no," Shawn said, backing away, "I see what you're trying to do and it won't work. I'm not talking to you. I'll never talk to you, because you won't listen and it won't work!"

"How do you know it won't work?" Henry asked, his tone still annoyingly calm. "How do you know that talking it out won't make it feel better? Have you tried?"

"I don't need to try," Shawn yelled. "Why should I trust you?"

Henry looked Shawn straight in the eyes and said, "sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith and trust that I'm here to catch you. Let me catch you Shawn," he whispered.

Shawn felt his barriers dissolve and break and he suddenly found himself launching into Henry's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"They made me watch," Shawn wailed as Henry wrapped his arms around his son and lowered them both to the ground. "I c–couldn't get...get away. They he–held me too, too tightly. I saw him...him kill them all. All...all seven of them."

Shawn's hands balled into fists around the material of Henry's shirt. "I can still hear them scream," he whispered, his voice soft and haunted, "I...I can still see...see the t–terror in their eyes as...as he killed them...as he tortured them."

Shawn buried his face into his father's chest. "I smell their blood. I couldn't block it out...they wouldn't let me. I could taste it in my mouth. I still can," Shawn choked out, before he started crying again.

"I could feel his pleasure," Shawn screamed, "and I could feel their pain and their fear. I could feel them die! As he tore them limb from limb I felt it too. I felt everything that they felt and more." Shawn's breathing increased, "some...sometimes, I...I wasn't sure if–if I was me...or them...or him... And I can never forget. I never forget anything," choking on his last words, Shawn began to sob uncontrollably.

Henry continued to hold Shawn, rocking him back and forth a little.

"You did good kiddo," Henry said gently as he rubbed his son's back, "and now you can let go."

"It hurts," Shawn sobbed.

"I know it does," Henry said, tightening his grip around Shawn, "but it always hurts worse before it gets better. And now that you've taken the first step, you can go back to work."

"I can't."

"Yes you can," Henry held Shawn out at arms length. "You need to. I know you can do it."

Keeping one hand on Shawn's shoulder, Henry reached behind him a picked up a manila folder. He held it out for Shawn.

"She needs you now and I know you can help her."

Shawn slowly reached out and grabbed the file.

Shawn's eyes snapped open and for a confused minute he found himself laying with his face plastered on his coffee table. Slowly he straightened up and looked around his living room. He blinked a couple of times.

What had happened? How did he get into his living room? Hadn't he been at the beach? Shawn shifted his position a little and felt something move under his hand. He looked down and found that his hand had been resting on the file. The file that Juliet had left there earlier, and didn't appear to have moved from.

Moving with a speed that Shawn was sure that he had lost, he ran over to the front door and threw it open. He was instantly met with sunlight.

Shawn gasped. It was morning. He had fallen asleep. But that meant that... Shawn shook his head. But it was real. He was sure of it. Even though he had been asleep he had spoken with his father. Subconscious to subconscious. And you know what? Shawn felt better than he had in a long time.

Quickly, Shawn dashed back into his apartment and over to his phone. Picking it up he dialed a familiar number. The phone rang about seven times before it was answered.

"I was sleeping Shawn," Henry's voice growled into the phone, he had checked his caller-i.d. before answering the phone.

"I know," Shawn said cheerily, "and I just wanted to say thank you. Doubt you remember, but you were really helpful. I'll also be sure to tell the others so that they'll get off your back. Bye."

"Wait? What are you talking about Shawn? Shawn!"

Shawn closed his phone, ignoring his father's shouts and looked down at his watch. Crap, he had to get ready.

Gus didn't have work today, so instead he decided that he was going to hang out at the police station and see if Chief Vick could make any headway with Shawn.

"You're here early," Juliet commented, coming over to Gus and handing him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he said. He took a sip and sighed, though it wasn't a sigh of contentment.

"Mr. Guster, surely you have something better to do, than to hang around here until I talk to Shawn," Chief Vick said from the doorway of her office. Her break wasn't for another four hours and that was when she was planning on talking to him. But if she wasn't able to get through to him, then there would be nothing left that they could do.

"I still don't understand why you want Spencer here," Lassiter said, coming over to the group.

"Because everyone misses him," Juliet said, "and I know you do too."

"Me?" Lassiter said incredulously. "Why would I miss that thorn in my side?"

"Because he's an amazingly fun thorn with great hair."

For a second everything in the precinct was silent.

Slowly Gus turned around to see his best friend standing behind him, wearing a dark blue T-shirt and jeans, his hair no long slicked back.

"Miss me?" Shawn smirked.

A/N: Hey, so i hope you enjoyed this chapter, I had a heck of a time writing it out. Remember I: love reviews; hate flames; and wish for peas on earth and good will to hens. Happy New Year, I will see you in 2008. ;D