AN: First, thank you to the Guest who reviewed this story! It made me really happy, I'll definitely try to update as often as I can. I know you said to go ahead with M, but I'm still debating. I'm not sure if it would be well received by the fandom, but I do think it would add more to the story. Second, I know that a lot of people in the fandom depict Shawn in really terrifying situations as stoic and joking around. I've never really read a fic where he's truly broken down. But, Gus is his best friend, and Gus is really hurt right now, and he's being stalked by a crazy serial killer, and I don't know, I would be stressed out too. Gus is gone, his defense mechanisms are addled, and yeah, he's gonna cry a bit in the next few chapters. Also, I know this chapter seems pretty much like filler, but I think it's important to show what Shawn feels. Don't worry, he's not going to be weepy for the whole story, but his defenses are down right now, not to mention the painkillers he's on and the stress he's feeling about Gus. When he confronts the killer, he'll totally be badass, don't worry! Because real men can be badass and still show emotion. Sorry for the long AN. Here's the chapter!


Reid thought he felt his heart break a bit when he woke up the next morning and saw the psychic still sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead, looking about as well as he had last night.

At first Spencer thought Shawn was taking the whole ordeal well, until he grabbed the remote off his bed and the cell phone off the table and proceeded to turn on every single light in the small room, effectively waking up Morgan and Detective Lassiter, before he called his father and what Reid thought to be half of the Santa Barbara Police Department. The nurse came in to find out what was wrong and when she told Shawn they weren't going to allow any visitors, Reid thought the man would have a panic attack.

Somehow the psychic managed to get control over himself and, instead, called his father again and talked with him for what seemed like hours. After Morgan and Lassiter finished grumbling, realizing Shawn had tuned out the rest of the world, all three rolled over and went back to sleep, realizing there was nothing they could do. Now, Reid wondered if he should've kept vigil with his new friend, seeing the telephone still clutched next to his ear and his eyes wide open and staring. He couldn't hear Henry's voice through the phone - he could only assume the conversation had ended a while ago, and Shawn wasn't thinking clearly enough to put down the phone. He glanced around the rest of the room as he sat up, his sore abdomen feeling better than it had yesterday, and noticed Morgan staring at Shawn as well, worry clear on his face. Half asleep, he and Lassiter hadn't comprehended the extent of the terror Reid and Shawn had felt. Now, he felt guilty that it had happened in the same room, and he had been asleep.

"Shawn?" Reid called hesitantly, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and trying to get his bearings as the world momentarily spun. He could hear a soft clattering and when his vision cleared, he noticed the psychic staring at him with the same wide eyes. His phone had slipped out of his hand and off the bed, coming to rest on the floor. "Shawn?" he asked again, a bit louder, as the man blinked slowly.

"The alarms," finally came from the stunned man, his voice scratching in his throat. Shawn's mind was moving a mile a minute, and yet it felt like he wasn't thinking about anything. "The alarms, last night, the alarms." Reid nodded, remembering clearly the sound of feet and the code blue. "Spencer," Shawn said desperately, and as Reid looked up to meet his eyes again he saw the glaze clear for what must have been the first time in hours. "The alarms. Next door. The alarms. Spencer."

And it clicked in Reid's mind what was happening, why the heart monitor attached to Shawn was slowly increasing its volume as Shawn gasped in air. Next door - Gus, Shawn's best friend. A code blue. And he was on his feet, Morgan following him, hurrying over to Shawn and taking his hand, not breaking eye contact. Shawn desperately needed reassurance, but Spencer couldn't give that to him.

"Derek," he said quietly, keeping his voice calm to not worry Shawn any further, "go find a nurse, okay? Ask them about Burton Guster. He's in the room next door. See if he can receive visitors." He could hear shuffling feet and the door opening. Shawn's hands were trembling and he was swallowing convulsively, like he was trying to hold back vomit. "Shawn, breathe for me, okay? Hyperventilating isn't going to do any good."

"He did it, didn't he?" Shawn's lips barely moved, and for a moment Reid thought he had imagined the soft voice speaking to him. "Th-The bastard killed him. He c-came here and killed Gus. Oh God-"

"Shh, Shawn. I'm sure Gus is fine, alright, we're going to see him in a few minutes and I'll prove it to you." Shawn swallowed some more, staring at him.

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"You don't believe yourself." Reid blinked, taken aback. Shawn was correct - had the man profiled him? "He's- What if he's dead? It's my fault, Spencer-" Shawn stopped, and closed his eyes, and Spencer could practically hear what was echoing in his head: Emily, yesterday, repeating 'This is not your fault'. Emily always was good with victims.

"He's not dead, Shawn. He's in a hospital."

"Because of me!" Shawn's eyes flew open, and for the first time Reid noticed Detective Lassiter was awake now too. The psychic's voice began to climb, both in pitch and volume. "He's in here because of me! You're all in here because of me! B-Because th- Because-!" His voice caught and for a moment Spencer was afraid he would cry, but instead Shawn wailed in frustration. Lassiter was on his feet then, taking up position at the other side of Shawn's bed, wracking his brain for something to say.

"Spencer, Guster is fine," he said gruffly, drawing Shawn's attention. Shawn desperately clung to the words, and with a shock Lassie realized how much Shawn actually trusted him. "You're going to be fine too. We're going to find this sick son of a bitch in the name of Sweet Lady Justice, and so help me God you're going to be fine."

Shawn stared at him for a moment, and Lassiter worried he wasn't going to respond. But the faux psychic's voice cracked as he spoke, choking back tears. "I don't know what to do, Carlton." Lassiter was taken aback, both by the sound of Shawn's voice and the use of his name, but he didn't let it show, glancing at Agent Reid who had fallen silent.

"You don't have to do anything, Spencer," he muttered back. "You just recover in here with Guster. Let us handle it."

"No!" Shawn suddenly shouted, looking wild. "No, Gus and I can't stay here Lassie! We can't stay here! We have to leave!"

"Guster isn't in any condition to leave, Spencer. You know that." In any other situation, Shawn would've heard the distress and sympathy on Lassie's voice.

"No!" he practically screamed, frantic, trying to get out of bed. "We have to go, Lassie! Gus and I aren't safe here! We have to go to Dad's! If we're at Dad's house, we'll be fine!" Even in his addled state, Shawn could hear the delusion edging his voice, the insanity. It only served to scare him more. It scared him to hell and back. He wanted his Dad there. He didn't know what to do, and Dad would know what to do.

He looked up as he heard the voice he so desperately needed to hear, the voice who had hung up on him an hour ago, and calmed instantly. "Alright kid," Henry said gruffly, looking tired and worse for wear. But who was he to deny his kid when he called him in the middle of the night, hysterical and unable to even explain what was wrong? He had stayed on the phone. He may not be the best dad at times, but damn it, he was still Shawn's father. And he hated this. "We'll go back to my place. But I can't guarantee they'll let Gus out of here." Shawn bit his lower lip so hard Spencer thought it would bleed.

"But he's not safe, Dad," the man whispered, sounding every bit a scared 10 year old kid who had just gotten lost in a department store. "He's not safe. He can't s-stay here."

"I know kid. But the police will protect him. It's you I'm worried about."

"He died last night, Dad!" Shawn cried, calmer but still shaken, as Henry walked over and Reid and Lassiter backed off. "H-He died and it's-" He took a shuddering breath then, and Henry watched his son visibly calm, closing his eyes. He knew that look anywhere.

"What is it, Shawn? What'd you see?"

"I know the guy," his son whispered, his eyes opening, and it terrified Henry to see the distress in them, the horror that had filled them, when it had been proven for so many years that next to nothing could affect Shawn. "I know him, Dad. I talk to him every day. He works in the apartment building. Heck, he fixed my sink!" Lassiter was already on the phone, no doubt with the SBPD. Henry didn't get a chance to answer his son as Morgan reentered the room with an empty wheelchair and a nurse.

"Gus is fine," he said with a soft smile to Shawn. "They got him back last night and he's perfectly fine now. You can even see him."

Shawn was out of bed before anyone could stop him, and didn't even fight when the nurse forced him into the wheelchair. Henry stood just inside the room as Shawn shakily grabbed Gus' hand, waking up his best friend, who looked at him wearily.

"Hey Shawn." Shawn seemed at a loss for words - just another terrifying thing about his son today in a heap of terrifying things Henry was noticing.

"I'm so sorry," he finally whispered before breaking down. And Gus, being the sympathetic crier that he was, broke down too, and they were sobbing together, clinging to each other's hands. "I'm so sorry, Gus. I'm so sorry."