A/N: Thanks so much to everyone that stuck with me through this story. A sequel is in the works, though I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting it. Love you lots!

Epilogue

Gus spent the first few weeks at home getting his life together, or at least letting his mother put it together. His sudden disappearance lost him the menial filing job he'd worked for. He went on a couple of interviews, using the work he'd done at the law firm to pump up his resume, even if it felt weird to see his real name at the top of the sheet. He managed to score a job selling pharmaceuticals and it felt good to see a smile on his mother's face again. His father had left and the sudden return of her newly broken son didn't do much to improve her emotional disposition. Gus could sympathize with her. How could he not?

He spent the next year throwing himself completely into work. He didn't have the energy for much else. He found that it was a lot harder to make small talk when he was worrying about whether or not Shawn was still alive. It was too easy to focus on office politics and trading low-grade gossip than to focus on the scars and bruises still littering his body, remnants of his past life. He had a new future now and it was boring and mediocre… and it felt good.

No more thinking twice before giving anyone his name. No more shot practice on the weekend. Saturday shopping with his mother instead of Shawn threatening to beat the hell out of him if he didn't get his defense position just right. No more yelling, no more screaming, no more blood. He was finally able to go to sleep at night without hearing the sounds of bodies hitting the ground, the sickening thuds. No more.

No more quiet nights spent dozing off in the passenger seat with the low sound of Shawn's voice lulling him to sleep. No more warm bodies next to his on the nights it got too much to bear. No more stolen smiles bright enough to warm his heart. No more torturous kisses, no more tantalizing touches, no more tender slides of skin against his own. No more Shawn.

Gus fell from his boring life into empty dreams of what his life used to be. Of what he meant to that man across the world fighting for the choices he now regretted. Gus tried not to think about it. The less he dwelled on him, the better. It made it easier to not think about him, easier to not talk about him, easier to not dream about him. Easier, easier, easier.

So it wouldn't hurt so much to think about the fact that Shawn might never make it back. That he might not want to.

Shawn was just finishing up with an informant when he noticed a news piece on a large robbery in downtown Denver. The report was about a new witness making an identification on a man he'd seen that night in the store, his sole memory based on what the streetlight had highlighted. From what Shawn remembered about the area, that store was located on the corner farthest from the streetlight. He smiled to himself and dialed the tip line, knowing his line was untraceable.

Shawn spent the next year focusing on tracking down the men Joss had reported to. He had enough tips to know they were a sect of Bailey's men and that they were looking for him as well. In his downtown from calling in old favors and covering his tracks, he'd been making anonymous calls to local police departments, solving open cases. It gave him something to do at night when he couldn't sleep. He kept getting the urge to call Gus, just to hear his voice and know that he was okay. Every time he got as far as punching in the whole number, he would remember that Gus had been so close to leaving Shawn with Joss. If he'd been that ready, it was for the best that Shawn left him alone.

He got as far as letting the call go through once, only once, seven months in. He'd located one of Bailey's men, an old friend. After seeing Shawn's face, he'd wasted no time in making the call. His hand reached for the phone in his pocket so fast Shawn's natural reflexes kicked in and he'd shot the man in the chest before he had time to think. That night, he'd been so sickened with what he'd done, he'd rushed straight out to bar and drowned his sorrows in whiskey.

He left the bar with the first woman that looked at him. Too lost in his head to care that she hadn't even asked his name. She was on her back before he'd even closed the door and she had her bra off before he'd even crossed the room. He came inside of her, Gus' name in his head, on his lips, behind every slide of his palm across her body.

After, he lay on his back staring at the ceiling remembering how Joss used to be the solution for this. She never asked him why he looked as if he was about to weep, or why he'd held her so tightly, eyes closed but refused to touch her the second his eyes were open. She would lie by his side and tell him stories, about anything under sun, and she'd hold his hand. And if he cried, she would continue anyway, as if she wasn't witnessing the very end of his resolve.

And he told Gus all of this on the phone, in great detail, his voice low and gravelly. He made excuses and apologies, his mind going everything he'd ever wanted to say. "And I just thought you should know that I don't blame you for what you did. Any of it. If I had been where you are… where you were, I would've done the same thing." He paused, static over the line, "Except I wouldn't have. I love you too much. I would've never left, Gus… I would've never left, not again.

"I left you. Over and over again. I left you to travel the world. I left you to grow into a man without me. I left you that night and I can't fix that." His voice lifted and his smile was almost audible. "Well I guess I could not die and come back to make it up to you. If that counts. I think I should hang up now because… I've got a flight in the morning. Can't miss it."

He'd hung up; Gus never said a word because he hadn't heard the message until early the next morning. His mother walked in to see him standing motionless next to the answering machine repeating over and over, like a mantra that he knew Shawn was in trouble, that he was flying solo and that Gus couldn't help. That Shawn was going to die and he couldn't do anything about it.

Gus spent the next few weeks sleeping dreamlessly and alone. Until he wasn't alone anymore. He awoke one night to the sound of someone breaking into his newly acquired apartment. He grabbed the nearest imitation of a weapon and crept out of his bedroom into the hallway only to be tackled to the ground by a hard, warm figure. He knew without asking.

"Shawn?"

"Who else?" He stood up and pulled Gus to his feet. "Nice place-"

"Yes, you can crash here." Gus cut in. His grin was threatening to split his face in half.

"Just like that? Wow, are you on something?" Shawn asked incredulously.

Gus started dragging him back into his bedroom, undressing him as he went. "I thought you were dead." He buried his face into Shawn's neck and mumbled, "But you're here now and that's all that matters. You came back to me."

Shawn swallowed the pain in his throat and responded, "I always do."