Part Two: P.S. Please Don't Make Me Kill You

Shawn was driving home on his motorcycle, when his spidey sense kicked in and he realized he was being followed. At first, he didn't think much of it. He figured this was going to become something of a constant anyway now that he had his very own stalker, but the prickling feeling didn't go away, and he glanced behind him.

It was too dark to make out the car, but he was having flashbacks to the incident with the Spelling Bee, and things were not looking good. The car was speeding up like it planned to go right through him.

Shawn quickly turned his bike off the road, and his last thought as went tumbling off and onto the pavement was, not again.

xxxxxxxx

In light of his unfortunate accident, Shawn didn't actually make it home until 4:30 in the morning. The hospital had wanted him to stay overnight, but Shawn had been through the wringer worse than this. His left wrist was itching where it had been forced into a cast and he was sporting a pretty spectacular bruise on his right temple, but at least this time he could still walk without limping.

Shawn grabbed the house phone as he walked through his apartment and collapsed on his couch. He would have called Gus hours ago claiming to be home, but everyone had that stupid caller ID nowadays.

"Shawn!" Gus shouted. "Where have you been? I hope you realize that I was five minutes from calling the police. I went back to the office to find you, and firstly, you put everything back in the wrong place. I thought you were supposed to have a photographic memory?"

"I wanted to see what it all looked like on opposite sides of the room," Shawn said defensively.

"Don't change the subject, Shawn!" Gus said.

"You changed the subject," Shawn said. "I'm just trying to keep up."

"Just tell me where you've been," Gus said. "I've been calling your cell phone for like four hours."

Shawn pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Huh," he said. "Would you believe my battery really is dead?"

"Sadly yes," Gus said, finally seeming to calm down. "I haven't slept at all, you know. I feel like I'm the one being stalked."

Shawn grinned. "You're feeling left out! That's so sweet," he said. "But, Gus, don't worry. I'm sure you'll get one too. We could hire someone to follow you around if you'd like."

"Not what I meant, Shawn, I don't want a stalker! It bothers me that you actually seem to enjoy it," he said.

"It's good for publicity," Shawn said.

"If it was for publicity, we'd be calling the police," Gus snapped. "It isn't publicity if you won't tell anyone."

"That's semantics and you know it! Anyway, I don't want to get Ingles into trouble. He's a really nice guy under all that stalker tendency. Do you know that he knits? He promised to make me a pineapple cozy."

"I'm hanging up now," Gus said. "I need to get some sleep. You lock your doors, or I swear to God, Shawn--"

"Consider it done," Shawn said, and hung up the phone as he turned to look at his door. He'd left the deadbolt undone, and it really didn't seem worth it to walk all the way back over there.

Still, some things had been ingrained in him by Henry too deeply for even Shawn to erase, so he got up and locked the door, just in case.

xxxxxxxx

Shawn woke up aching, and took six aspirin before dragging himself to the shower. He knew that Gus wasn't anywhere near as observant as him, but Shawn was still pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to hide the cast or the bruises from him.

Still, that didn't mean Shawn wouldn't try. He put on a heavy jacket and then pulled a beanie cap low over his eyes, covering everything but the outermost edges of the bruise. It probably would have been a better disguise if it wasn't the middle of August, but it was the best Shawn could come up with on short notice.

Shawn really wanted to go borrow his father's truck to pick his bike off the side of the road, but he knew better than to let his father see him in this condition. Gus might get fooled, maybe, but his father would know the instant he saw him what had really happened and Shawn was pretty sure this time Henry would just take a hammer to his poor innocent motorcycle and be done with it.

None of them seemed to understand it wasn't the motorcycle that was to blame. It was the psychos that kept trying to run him off the road.

So Shawn took a cab to the Psych office instead, and called a tow company to pick his bike up on the way and drop it back off at his apartment.

When he entered the office, the first thing he noticed was that Gus had put everything back where it belonged. The second thing he noticed was Gus, who was standing by his desk, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Are you cold?" he asked.

Shawn nodded. "It's like a blizzard out there, you didn't notice?"

Gus looked out the window at the clear, sunny skies, and his eyes narrowed even further. "Shawn," he said. "Quit playing. What's with the winter-wear?"

"I have very bad blood circulation, Gus, you know that," Shawn told him.

Gus stepped forward, before reaching over to pull the hat off his head. He blinked wide horrified eyes at the bruise. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I walked into a door?" Shawn said.

"Shawn!" Gus snapped, grabbing Shawn's arm as he started to turn away.

Shawn let out an involuntary yelp and pulled his arm away, but not quite quick enough that Gus didn't see the cast. Gus went stony, the way he'd gotten only a few times in their relationship, and Shawn knew it meant he wasn't going to back down. He took a deep breath. "I ran my bike off the road again," he admitted, then after a moment, his pride in his own finesse with his bike forced him to add, "Okay, technically, I was run off the road again."

"How could you not tell me this, Shawn?" Gus shouted.

"Firstly, I just did tell you, secondly, I didn't want to tell you because you would think Ingles did it, and I don't think he did," Shawn said, tearing his jacket off since he was getting so hot he could barely breathe. "I think this has to do with Amber."

"Who?" Gus asked.

"The missing person case we're working on," Shawn explained.

"What missing person case?" Gus asked. "We're not working any cases."

"Yes we are," Shawn said. "It's just that no one seems to realize it but me."

"Shawn," Gus said.

"I can't figure this one out," Shawn said, sounding frustrated. "I think it must be all the distractions, because I'm usually quicker than this. But I'll tell you one thing, that break-in at Alice Clothing wasn't a break-in, and it wasn't gang related."

"That's nice, Shawn, but this is all completely besides the point," Gus snapped. He slammed a letter down on Shawn's desk and pointed to it. "This lovely piece of fan mail is from your buddy Ingles."

"You opened my mail?" Shawn asked, incredulous. "What happened to all that, it's a federal offense stuff?"

"It's addressed to the Agency, Shawn," Gus snapped. "I have as much right to read it as you. We should just be grateful that he doesn't seem to know your home address."

Shawn winced. "He does, actually. He moved in across the street two days ago."

"Shawn!"

Shawn dropped down into his desk chair and picked up the letter. "If you keep shouting my name like that, you're going to wear it out." He glanced over the letter. It was admittedly pretty crazy as far as fan mail went.

Dearest Shawn,

I've been watching you for a while now, and you can't keep doing this, pretending like I'm not here and we're not meant to be together. If you don't start noticing me, I'm going to make you wish you had. You need to realize that we belong to each other, that you belong to me. I've had enough of these games.

Yours Truly,
Your stalker, Ingles.

P.S. Please don't make me kill you.
P.P.S. You look very nice today.

Shawn frowned at it. "Well, this is obviously a joke," he said.

"That is not a joke, Shawn, that is a death threat," Gus snapped.

"He put a little smiley face beside his name, this is hardly the work of a criminal mastermind," Shawn said.

"Are you ready to bring the police in on this or not?" Gus demanded.

"Look, just give me a chance to figure this out first," Shawn said. "I know there's something else going on here, with all of this, and if I can just--"

"No, Shawn. Your accident--" Gus started.

"That has nothing to do with this!" Shawn interrupted. "I'm like . . . 97 sure about that."

"Maybe I would have agreed, but this letter changes everything, Shawn. This is a seriously disturbed individual."

"Gus, I'll figure this out," Shawn said, he started to crumple the letter up to throw away, but Gus grabbed it out of his hands.

"This is evidence, Shawn," he snapped, before turning around and heading towards the doors. "You let me know when you want to be reasonable."

"Gus!" Shawn called after him. "Gus, come on! It's kind of funny, don't you think?"

The door was already slamming and Shawn sighed and slunk lower in his chair. He watched Gus speed away in his little blue car, and then he saw Ingles standing on the corner, hiding behind a newspaper. Shawn reached for his phone, and dialed Ingles' phone number.

"Hello?" Ingles said.

"Hey, Ingles, it's Shawn," he said.

"Shawn!" Ingles said happily. "I was just thinking about you."

"Well, you are standing right outside my office," Shawn said.

"I'm not," Ingles said.

"Ingles, I can see you through the window," Shawn said.

"That's not me," Ingles said. "That's probably just some guy that looks like me."

Shawn watched the guy that looked like Ingles adjust his cell phone as he accidentally dropped the newspaper. "Okay, Ingles," he said. "It's not you. And I suppose that little love note wasn't from you, either?"

"Love note?" Ingles said. "That's a little sudden, don't you think, Shawn? I was following Phil Collins around for seven years before I started sending him love notes."

"Right," Shawn said, "Okay, Ingles, thanks."

"Are we still on for lunch on Friday?" Ingles asked.

"Yeah, but it's got to be public," Shawn said. "Gus worries. He made me promise."

"I hate that Gus guy," Ingles said. "He's always giving me dirty looks when he sees me lurking around."

"Just stay away from Gus, okay?" Shawn said, a little coldly.

"Sure, sure," Ingles said. "He's not that interesting to watch, anyway."

Shawn set the phone back down and then tapped impatiently on his desk. There were way too many distractions, and Juliet still hadn't called him back about Amber. He'd been sure she would have checked up on it for him, even though she had said she wouldn't. Shawn grabbed the phone again and dialed the SBPD.

"Hello?" Juliet said.

"You know, it's much harder to contact the spirits without a last name," Shawn said without preamble, bringing his uninjured hand to his head in true psychic fashion, even though there was no one there to see it. "Jules, I really thought you would have checked this out for me by now."

"Her name is Amber Delaney, she kept her maiden name, and her husband is a US Marine, Mark Anders. I did check it out," Juliet said.

"You did?" Shawn asked.

"Of course," Juliet said. "I've learned better than to ignore one of your hunches, but, Shawn, the husband was out of the country on a tour in Iraq, and he came back the day after Amber disappeared. So if it is a missing persons case, which I'm not sure it is, then he has nothing to do with it."

Shawn frowned. "Actually, I think this has everything to do with it, but you're right, yes, the spirits are much clearer now, it's not the husband, I misunderstood them."

"Shawn, what are you talking about?" Juliet said.

"It's not the husband we should be looking into," he said again. "It's the boyfriend."

"The boyfriend," Juliet repeated. "The one she ran off with?"

Shawn shook his head, even though she couldn't see it. "No, Jules. I'm really starting to worry that Amber hasn't gone anywhere."

"Shawn, I have to go, the Chief--" Shawn listened closely as he heard the phone muffled to keep him from listening, and could just make out, "yes, it's Shawn--but--he what?" Shawn heard Juliet un-muffle the phone and then take a deep breath. "Shawn," she said, far too sweetly, "the Chief would like you to come down to the station."

Shawn's eyes lit up. "She's making this my case?"

"You'll really have to take it up with her," Juliet said.

"I'll be right there," Shawn said, and he was already halfway out the door.

xxxxxxx

Shawn entered the police station with his usual stagger, but his step faltered slightly as he caught sight of Juliet watching him anxiously from her desk. As he slowly turned to look at Vick's office, he saw Gus sitting in one of the chairs, resolutely looking straight ahead, and Shawn neatly turned on his heel to head straight back out again.

Someone caught him by the arm and pulled him back around. "Going somewhere, Spencer?" Lassiter asked.

Shawn gave him his best grin. "Yes, actually, I was--"

"Just going to see the Chief?" Lassiter asked. "Good. Because they're waiting for you."

Lassiter shoved Shawn neatly into the Chief's office, and then closed the door behind him. Shawn dropped down into the other empty chair and glared at Gus.

"You told on me?" He caught sight of the glaring presence of his father, standing with his arms crossed in the corner. "You called my dad? Gus--"

"I called Henry," Vick interrupted.

"Are you even allowed to do that?" Shawn asked. Vick gave him a glare, and he quickly backtracked. "I mean, of course you are. You're the Chief."

Vick shook her head in exasperation. "Mr. Guster has told us that your offices were broken into, and someone tried to run you off the road, and that you have recently acquired a stalker that's sending you threatening notes," she said. "Naturally I had a hard time believing this, since I had thought you would certainly have come forward if that were the case."

Shawn rubbed at his cast, which was suddenly itching like crazy. "I think Gus may have given you the wrong impression."

"Shawn!" Gus snapped. "I did not--"

"How so?" Vick demanded.

"Well, you make it sound like this is all related! But really, I believe it's more a series of unfortunate events," Shawn explained. "Everything's totally under control."

"Mr. Spencer," Vick said, giving him that smile that meant she was nearing the end of her rope. "Let me make myself clear. You either stay with your father until this matter is resolved or I will have you put into protective custody."

"What, like on TV? Would I get to stay in a fancy hotel and order room service and--"

Vick narrowed her eyes.

Shawn smoothly switched tracks without missing a beat. "I'll go with my Dad. Maybe we can even have one of those screaming matches like we always used to. It'll be just like old times."

Vick nodded in approval. "I'm glad to hear it. Please wait outside with Detective O'Hara for a moment. I'd like to have a word with Mr. Guster and your father."

"But I--"

"That'll be all, Mr. Spencer," Vick said coolly.

Shawn pushed out of the chair with his good arm, and his father's eyes narrowed as they saw the cast. He opened his mouth to say something, but Vick held up a hand and Henry shut his mouth again.

Sometimes Shawn worried that maybe Chief Vick was a Jedi.

Juliet was waiting for him at the door, with Lassiter not far behind, like they were afraid he was going to make a run for it or something. Shawn just sighed, because that totally thwarted his plans to make a run for it.

Juliet ushered him to her desk and pushed him down into her chair, before perching on the edge and pushing a bunch of pamphlets at him. "I mean, you study this kind of thing, you know that it happens," she was saying. "You just don't ever expect it to happen to you, or someone you know."

Shawn flipped through a few of the pamphlets. They had titles like Why the Rape Whistle Is Your Friend and Always Leave A Light On. "Jules, you guys are all getting worked up over nothing," he said. "Ingles is harmless. He's like the Disney Channel of stalkers."

"This is no laughing matter, Spencer," Lassiter said roughly.

"But you say that about everything!" Shawn protested.

Lassiter just crossed his arms and tried to look imposing. Shawn was actually a little impressed, because he seemed almost good at it, and if Shawn didn't know Lassiter as well as he did, he might have even been slightly intimidated. "Stalkers often start out innocent enough, but then they escalate, and before you know it you're dead."

"I can always count on you to find a silver lining, Lassy," Shawn said.

"No, Shawn, he's right," Juliet told him, taking his right hand and forcing his attention back on her. "I want you to be careful."

Shawn looked up as Gus came quickly out of the office, making a beeline for the door and not meeting Shawn's eyes. Shawn got up to follow him. "Hey, Gus! What, you're running away from me now? Gus?"

Henry caught Shawn's arm to stop him from following Gus out the door. "Hold on there," he said.

Shawn looked down at where his father was gripping him. "You know, for all this talk about my dangerous stalker, it seems to be all the 'good guys' that like to manhandle me. You and Lassiter should join a support group or something."

"I'm not in the mood, Shawn," Henry snapped. "Come on. We're leaving."

Shawn took a deep breath, and then forced himself to do as his father said. "Shawn, wait, you forgot your pamphlets!" Juliet ran up to him, and pushed the dreaded pamphlets back at him. Shawn took them reluctantly.

"Thanks, Jules," he said.

"It's never weakness to ask for help," Juliet told him. "We're all here for you, whatever you need." Her eyes were wide and solemn and focused on the bruise at Shawn's temple, like he was a battered wife.

He nodded gravely, playing along. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Now, Shawn!" Henry shouted from the doors.

"I'm coming!" Shawn said petulantly, spinning on his heel to wave goodbye to Juliet as he started backwards towards the doors. "See you around, Jules."

His father didn't say anything as they walked across the packing lot, and he didn't say anything as they both climbed into the truck. He just sat there for a moment, staring at the keys in his hands, and then he let out a snort. "Only you, kid," he said.

"You know that Gus is a total drama queen," Shawn said. "It's not nearly as serious as I'm sure he made it sound."

"He showed us the letter," Henry said. "And you got into another accident with that damn bike. I'll buy you a car, Shawn, okay? Just get rid of that bike."

"I love that bike," Shawn said. "And if you bought me a car you'd be over every other day to check on it, the mileage, the upholstery, the finish. It would drive us both mad and you know it."

Henry started the car and pulled out of the lot. "What if I promised I wouldn't?" Henry asked.

"You'd still do it," Shawn said. "You wouldn't be able to help yourself."

"If I still had hair, you'd be turning it grey," Henry said. "And put your damn seatbelt on."

Shawn grabbed his seatbelt, and put it on with unnecessary flourish. "So you're not really going along with this, right? Because I'll be fine if you just drop me off at my place."

"Not gonna happen," Henry said.

"It's the middle of the day!" Shawn protested. "I have things to do, places to be."

"Sorry, kid, you're grounded," Henry said.

"You can't ground me anymore," Shawn said. "I'm almost positive about that."

"I can when I have the police Chief on my side," he said. "If you'd prefer, I can drive you right back there and you can go into protective custody. And I'll tell you right now, it's not going to be one of those fancy hotels you were talking about seeing on TV. You'd be lucky to wind up in a Motel Six."

"Okay, fine," Shawn said. "But I want to go on record as being entirely opposed to this whole thing."

Henry went quiet again, and Shawn moved uneasily in his seat. It was never a good sign when Henry Spencer was trying to hold his tongue, because he never managed it for it long. "Okay, Shawn, what the hell?" he shouted suddenly.

Shawn straightened in his seat. "What?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't you come to me with this?" Henry demanded.

"Because you would have overreacted, kind of like you're doing now," Shawn said lamely.

"No I wouldn't have," Henry said. "I would have handled him like that deviant stalker you had in high school."

"Dad, Anna Breece was fourteen-years-old. She followed me home once and tried to look through our windows with her Barbie binoculars. You yelled at her until her crying was so high-pitched she started to attract the neighborhood dogs."

"That's how criminal behavior starts, Shawn. I did that as much for her as for you. I bet she's grown up fine."

"I saw her last month," he said. "She's still in therapy."

"You're making that up," Henry said.

"No, she actually is," Shawn said. "But I'm sure it's not entirely your fault."

"God damn it, Shawn," Henry said. "Can please just have a serious discussion for once? How could you not tell me about this?"

"I didn't tell you about the accident because you hate my bike enough already," Shawn said. "I didn't tell you about Ingles because I honestly don't believe he's a threat."

"And the break-in?" Henry demanded.

"Nothing was taken," Shawn said. "I'm not even sure if there's a law about going into someone's office and rearranging their stuff, but it didn't seem like that big of a deal."

"Nothing ever does to you," Henry said, as he pulled to a stop in front of the house.

"After everything you've taught me," Shawn said, "you don't trust me to know whether or not I'm in danger?"

"Kid," Henry said tiredly, "that's the one thing I don't trust you to know."