A/N: Hey guys! Thanks SO much for the amazing reviews!

Thanks again to Mia for the beta on this chapter. ;)

Shawn let his apartment door slam as he walked out. It would have been a much more powerful statement about how annoyed he was if he could walk faster, maybe even stomp his feet a little for added effect.

He wasn't angry at Gus, or even annoyed with him. Shawn wasn't even sure why he'd yelled at his best friend. His abdomen was still hurting, he felt sick to his stomach at the very thought of food, and he was generally feeling weird. But none of that was Gus's fault. The last thing Shawn wanted was for him to catch on to the fact that something was wrong. They needed this case and snapping at Gus like that wasn't going to make him think that everything was just fine and dandy. He promised himself he'd tell Gus about the pain later, maybe even let his friend talk him into taking a trip down to the hospital. After all, pain or no pain, something had to be wrong with him if he didn't want to eat breakfast.

His trek to the car was annoyingly slow. He had to force himself to not grab at his stomach every time he moved, but the pain was just bearable enough that he could get by with biting his lower lip and digging his fingernails into his arm to keep himself going.

This day would have been much easier if he could have just lay curled up in his bed watching the first season of Numb3rs, a trash can in reaching distance in case the nausea spiked again. But clearly that was not on today's agenda.

Shawn pulled the passenger door open when he reached the Echo, taking much longer than usual to sit down and exhaling deeply when he finished. Thankfully, Gus wasn't paying attention, flipping uneasily through some papers.

"Shawn, we're going to have to get at least twice the money we earned on our last case if we want to pay off all these bills," Gus sighed. "Unless you want to just give up cable and electricity at your place and the office for a little while."

"And miss my Cosby Show reruns? I can TiVo the new Leverage, but Bill Cosby needs to be watched in the moment. We'll have enough, don't worry."

Gus snorted and pulled out of the parking lot, sliding easily into the very light Sunday morning traffic. "Where are we going again?" he asked.

"Uh." Shawn thought back to his earlier conversation with his father. "Apartment complex on State Street. Some guy named Price runs it."

Gus gave him a surprised look. "Patrick Price? As in the guy from the 'Save Our City' commercials?"

"That's who he is?" Shawn raised his eyebrows. He must've seen those commercials a thousand times. "The balding guy with the croissant mustache who's always preaching about those kids who leave potato chip bags and soda bottles in the park?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "Patrick Price is a very wealthy, upstanding citizen. This apartment building you're talking about? It used to be a bunch of offices, but it was scheduled to be taken down in February. The guy paid for it to be put back into use. Said he wanted to do his part for the community. He runs the place too, with his wife and his brother."

"Saving one building from being taken down and making a ton of commercials about the environment makes you an upstanding citizen?" Shawn snorted, then twinged slightly as the jolt caused his stomach to twist. "Get me a video camera and a picket-sign and I can do that."

"He's also one of the richest men in Santa Barbara," Gus pointed out. "His family's lived here since who knows when. His grandfather was a senator for the state, I think."

Shawn chuckled, but it was half-hearted. He was starting to feel nauseous again, and was struggling to keep himself cheerful and focused. Don't lose it in front of Gus, he told himself. "How do you know so much about this guy? Are you stalking him or something?"

"No, and you're one to talk. You spent a whole week following one girl around because she told you your hair looked really good."

"Dude, the girl was obviously very intelligent. I couldn't let her just get away after that. It didn't matter anyway, she was the nurse in charge of giving shots down at the hospital, and I was not going to get involved with someone who works that closely with needles."

He was rambling now. The nausea was getting worse and Shawn wasn't thinking straight. He held back a groan. "You're changing the subject, by the way."

"Fine," Gus sighed. "My boss's new secretary's sister works as a receptionist at the apartments. She met him there and she's always talking about him."

"If you really want to play six degrees here, then you should use someone a bit more famous, not someone who looks like he left a pastry on his upper lip. Seriously, that mustache gives me the creeps. I once knew a guy who-"

He had to stop suddenly as his stomach lurched again. It wasn't even pain that time, just the sick feeling Shawn hadn't had since he was about five. He clamped his mouth shut, and closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even.

Unfortunately, this was a bit too obvious to try and get past Gus. "Are you ok?" he asked.

Shawn swallowed and spoke through clenched teeth. "Yeah, buddy. I'm fine, just feeling a little-" Something jumped in his stomach and he opened his eyes wide. "Pull over. Stop the car, quick."

"What? Why-"

"Gus, stop!"

Gus didn't have to be told again. He pulled out of traffic and parked next to the edge of a small grouping of trees just in time for Shawn to throw open his door, jump out of the car and make it about two yards before collapsing onto the ground, retching violently. Everything he'd eaten the night before seemed to come up. His throat burned and the taste made him want to give up food for a good, long time. It felt like it lasted hours, but he finally managed to empty his stomach.

For a moment he kneeled there, doing his best to ignore the discomfort that had been renewed during his lunge out of the car and across the grass, not to mention the damage that had been done to his comfort levels from puking up his insides. The nausea had almost completely disappeared at least. His head was clearer than it had been. It was still a struggle for Shawn to find the energy to push himself up and make it back to the Echo.

Shawn found his best friend with his eyes tightly shut, humming quietly, turned towards his window. He was caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to roll his eyes. Of course Gus wouldn't want to hear or see someone vomiting a few feet away, even if it was Shawn. He probably should have shut the door when he jumped out of the car, not that he had been feeling particularly charitable at the time.

He tapped his friend's shoulder as he slid back into the shotgun seat and closed the door. "Dude, you want to get down to the apartments? My dad will blow a gasket if we're any later….On second thought, a movie sounds nice right about now."

Gus opened his eyes and turned towards him, looking stunned. "We can't go work a case! You're sick and I'm taking you back to your apartment right now," Gus informed him.

He started to pull out into traffic before Shawn grabbed his arm.

"It's fine. I feel better now actually," Shawn half-lied. He might not have been feeling as nauseous, but the pain was definitely still there. "I think it was just all that food from last night working its way back up. Trust me, man, I'm fine to work a case."

Gus looked at his friend closely and Shawn did his best to smile and look like his confident self. Apparently, it either worked, or Gus had realized that he would get nothing out of arguing, as he started to drive forward again. There was silence for a few moments, with Shawn nervously pulling at his shirt collar.

"You're sure you're ok?" Gus asked, giving Shawn a sideways look.

"Stop being such a worrywart, Gus," Shawn snorted. "It's not like I'm dying. I've just caught a bug or something."

"A bug?" Gus started to slow down the car and Shawn cursed in his mind. "I thought you said it was just all the food."

"Well," Shawn cleared his throat. "I don't know, it might be the food. I've just been feeling kind of…weird this morning. It's not a big deal or anything."

"How weird?"

"I don't know. Just weird. Like Weird Science weird, so… pretty weird."

"You got to give me a little more than that."

"Since when do John Hughes movie references not count as answers?" Gus gave him a hard look and Shawn sighed. "Fine, uh…I have a stomachache." A really, really bad stomachache, he thought, but wasn't about to tell Gus that. "And I didn't really want to eat this morning, which was probably just the nausea."

Gus's jaw dropped open slightly. "Wait. You didn't eat anything this morning? Like nothing at all?"

"Ah, no?"

"Absolutely nothing? Not one cheerio?"

"No, nothing."

Gus shook his head. "I'm taking you home."

Shawn laughed before he realized Gus was serious. "Dude, seriously. I've got the flu or a cold or something. Or better, yet, it was just all of that food. My stomach is very sensitive-"

Gus snorted.

"-and it probably just made me feel a little nauseous. Now that I've…removed the food from my stomach, the nausea's gone and the pain will probably be gone soon too."

He turned to Gus and smiled, ignoring the sudden pang in his abdomen. "Relax, buddy. I'll be fine in no time."

Though Shawn's directions were mostly unhelpful (he'd told Gus to take a left at every single intersection they came to, and it had taken several minutes before Gus had realized that Shawn was purposefully sending him in circles), they made it to the Price Apartment Complex. It could have been the offices of a company making greenhouses. The lawn surrounding the building was so full of flowers, bushes and trees that Shawn could hardly even see the grass. There were so many different colors and types of flowers that Shawn wasn't sure where to look.

"It looks like the skittles guy threw up out here," Shawn said.

"Come on. We should get this done as fast as we can," Gus suggested. "Then you can go home and rest. Or go to a hospital. How's the stomach?"

"Fine," Shawn lied. The walk to the front door, which would have usually been nothing, was killing him now. Getting out of the car had been a nightmare by itself, and one that Shawn did not want to repeat. Walking was just making everything worse. It felt like someone was stabbing his abdomen with a pencil every time he took a step. He could feel the layer of sweat that was starting to cover his forehead. As much as he wanted to get the money for this case, Shawn was starting to wish he'd just stayed home.

"Hey, look at that."

He turned to see a mob of reporters and cameramen surrounding a familiar-looking man. There were cameras flashing sporadically, and the man was obviously trying not to blink. The reporters shouted questions at him rapidly and the man replied to each one without even pausing to think. He was tall, dressed in a suit and balding on top. However, his most distinguishing feature was his thick, dark brown moustache. The man barely looked like he even had an upper lip, as it was completely covered in hair. Shawn once again found himself comparing it to a large chocolate croissant. This was clearly Patrick Price.

"Shawn!"

Oh here we go. Shawn looked away from the press crowd to see his father coming out of the apartment building and approaching him.

"There you are," Henry said crossly. "I told you to come down-"

"Sorry, Dad. Gus's car wouldn't start for a little while and I refused to ride in any other vehicle to go to work. That would just be blasphemous."

Gus gave him a sharp look, but didn't say anything. Thanks, buddy, Shawn thought. He really didn't need his dad knowing all about how he was feeling that morning. Henry looked slightly skeptical, but rolled his eyes.

"Aren't these just a group of robberies?" Gus asked. "Why do you need us? And why are the reporters so interested?"

"Because of the guy who owns it all," Henry answered. "Patrick Price is a big name in this city. Anything that has his name on it, even if it's just his apartment building, gets people's attention. Now, after all these robberies, half of the people living here are talking about moving out if things don't clear up, and he'd lose a lot of money that way. The press is all over it. He wanted as many people on this as we could get so they can get this whole ordeal out of the way faster."

"So what's going on with these robberies anyway?" Shawn asked. "Did the guy lose a diamond piggy bank? Or a money tree, perhaps? I hear they're in season."

"The tenants are the ones dealing with the robberies, actually. Four days ago, the power goes out in the building for maybe twenty minutes, and then comes back on all of a sudden. Nobody thinks it's a big deal until one of the tenants tells management that her apartment's been broken into, trashed and robbed."

"Where was she?"

"Out to lunch across the street. Anyway, the same thing happened three more times during the past few days. Power goes out, comes back on before anybody has time to find out what's wrong, then someone comes home to find out their apartment was robbed sometime while the electricity was down."

"Doesn't sound too complicated," Shawn muttered.

Henry snorted. "Well get in there and figure it all out then, if you're so confident. Impress Mr. Price." Henry gestured out to the garden in front. "Maybe he'll give you some flowers," he added sarcastically.

"Only if I can also get the skittles guy to-"

"Where was the last robbery?" Gus cut in quickly. "Just so we know where to start?"

"Third floor. Detectives Lassiter and O'Hara are up there."

Before either of the Spencers could say anything else, Gus pushed Shawn towards the front doors. Shawn winced and his hand twitched, almost going up to his side.

"You okay?" Gus asked quietly.

"Fine," Shawn muttered. He straightened and struggled to walk ahead of Gus into the building.

The inside wasn't quite as bright and colorful as the outside, but it was still very impressive. There were small signs that the building had been refurbished and was really older than it appeared, like the worn out look of the wood paneling in the foyer or how the beige paint was chipping slightly on the corner of one wall, revealing a light green color underneath. For the most part, however, Shawn would have never realized that it used to be an office building.

The foyer was fairly wide open, with a smattering of couches and chairs around the area and a line of bookcases along the walls. Most of the residents, however, seemed to be more interested in the view from the window, as they watched police officers walk around the building and the reporters still questioning Price. One woman was even quickly fixing her makeup with a hand mirror. Probably hoping to somehow get her face on camera.

There was one person who didn't seem at all interested in gossiping about what was going on with the other tenants. A man was sitting in one of the larger armchairs by the foyer. He couldn't have looked more worried about something if he had just been told that he was only getting coal in his Christmas stocking that year. He appeared to be casually skimming over a magazine, but Shawn noticed how his eyes seemed to jump up every time the front door opened.

"Hey, let's make a quick detour." Shawn started to approach the man, Gus right on his heels.

"What are you doing?"

"Just work with me here for a second."

The man didn't look up from his magazine until they were right up to him. Gus casually took the chair across from him but Shawn stayed standing. He was already sweating from trying to endure the agony in his stomach that walking had caused, and even though sitting down and relaxing sounded perfect, that would mean having to squat down to get into the chair. He wasn't about to try and sit down again until he had to.

"Can I help you with something?" the man asked, his tone suggesting that he was willing to do anything but.

"Why yes, you can. My name's Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, Moxie Schmoxie." Gus coughed loudly at this, but Shawn chose to ignore him. "We're here with the SBPD."

"The police?" The man looked them both over quickly and choked down a laugh. "Seriously? You don't really look like cops."

He grinned broadly. "Why thank you, I take great pride in that fact. No, the cops and I run in slightly different circles. Actually, I tend to run in more of a rhombus formation. It's much better cardio. I'm actually the Head Psychic at the department."

The man raised an eyebrow at this. "Psychic? Our tenants have been having break-ins, they're not being haunted. Why do we need a psychic?"

"I'm sorry, do you work here?" Gus asked.

Shawn took a moment to really look the man over now that he was closer. There was a button missing from his shirt pocket. His slightly pointed nose and chin looked oddly familiar. Shawn ran through several faces in his head, trying to find the connection.

"Of course I work here," he said. "I've worked here since the building opened. I'm Martin-"

"Price," Shawn finished. He'd landed on the connection and remembered seeing several of the same facial features on Patrick Price just minutes before. "You're Patrick Price's brother."

"Very good, Mr. Spencer," Martin said, the sarcasm in his voice clear. "Yes, I am, in fact, Patrick's brother. I run the building with him."

"First question then. What's up with the miniature version of those huge gardens in France outside?"

"You mean the Gardens of Versailles?" Gus said.

"Please, Gus. That doesn't even sound French."

Martin smiled slightly. "Patrick's wife, Amelia, is a gardener. She wanted to make the front of the building look nice and help out Patrick, and that seemed like the best way to do it. I help her with the gardening sometimes even. It's all just for show. "

"What do you know about the robberies, Mr. Price?" Gus asked politely. "We didn't get a chance to talk to your brother outside."

Martin turned towards the window and watched the mob of reporters outside. His hands kept picking at his belt loops. "Yes, he is a little occupied right now. Well, I'm sure the police have already caught you up on the basics. The electricity in the building keeps going out, though we're not really sure why. Whenever someone goes to check, it comes back on before they can actually get into the maintenance room. I've looked at the damn circuit breaker a hundred times now and there's nothing wrong with the thing."

"Do you run the maintenance in the building?" Shawn asked suddenly.

Martin sat up a little straighter. "I don't do all the dirty work, but I do supervise it, yes."

"So, you know how all the circuits and switches work, right?"

Gus looked at him questioningly, and Shawn tried to ignore him. Martin narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't looking Shawn directly in the eye, instead focusing on something right behind him, and Shawn knew that he was on to something here.

"Yeah, I know how most of them work. It isn't too complicated though. I'm sure half the staff could figure it out," Martin muttered.

Shawn nodded. He didn't see why his father had needed to call him in at all. This all seemed so obvious to him. He hadn't been in the building ten minutes and he already knew what had happened. In fact, he was completely sure about it. It had to be the shortest it had ever taken him to solve a case ever.

"You must know a lot about the way the building is set up, right?" Shawn said to Martin.

"You helped your brother put it back into use? Could probably run around here pretty quickly even in the dark, huh?"

"I'm not sure that I know what you're getting at here," Martin said.

"I'm sure you do," Shawn laughed. "How long have you been living in your brother's shadow, huh? Never getting all the limelight that he does, but you still get pulled along with whatever he wants you to do?"

"Shawn," Gus warned quietly.

"Shhh, Gus."

Martin stood up suddenly. Shawn had to step back in surprise, his hand pulling up to his stomach in the process with a barely-contained groan. Martin didn't seem to notice.

"I really don't appreciate what you're insinuating here," he said darkly.

"So when my friend and I go up to the last scene, we're not going to find any of your fingerprints in there? Or the button that's missing from your shirt?"

Martin glanced down at his shirt and seemed a little taken aback to see that he was indeed missing a button. Shawn grinned at this, and the smile faltered only slightly when Martin looked back up, appearing even angrier.

"Listen here, psychic. I don't know what your deal is or what game you think you're playing, but I'm not going to take this from you. I am not committing these robberies, okay? I am just as honorable an employee as everyone else who works here. I help Amelia out in the garden, I organize the events, and I make sure the building is running smoothly. I do more in this building than you or my brother will ever even realize."

"Sounds like someone's got a few brother issues," Shawn said. "Enough to try and ruin the name of his apartment complex and make everyone want to leave? Or are you just trying to really tick him off?"

"Shawn!" Gus blurted.

"What? I'm just calling out the facts," Shawn smiled. He didn't get why Gus kept trying to interrupt him. He was solving their case. "I still need to go up and actually see the rooms. I'm sure the police will have plenty to talk to you about later though."

Martin looked like he was about to yell at him. Or maybe punch him in the face. Then he exhaled deeply.

"I'd watch it if I were you," he hissed. Martin pushed Shawn out of the way and stalked off down a hallway across from them. Shawn hissed and held his stomach tighter.

"What was that?" Gus exclaimed. "You were with the guy less than five minutes and you just suddenly decide he's guilty? What's wrong with you? You don't have any proof!"

It took Shawn a few seconds to reply, clutching his stomach the entire time. Finally, breathing deeply, he straightened slowly.

"Intuition, buddy," Shawn shrugged. He started towards the elevator, Gus following right behind him. "The guy was too nervous. Clearly up to something."

"You don't have to go and say that to his face though! You must be out of your mind, Shawn. He's probably going to run if you're right about him."

Shawn abruptly stopped walking and Gus nearly ran into him. Gus did have a point.

Sneaking suspicion or no, he knew better than to tell a suspect that he or she was…well, a suspect, so early on. Especially when he had no proof or cops around to back him up. Why had he said all that to Martin Price?

"I…I don't know if…" Shawn's eyebrows pinched together.

Gus's shock and frustration turned to concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?"

"No, no. I just feel sort of….I don't know, off."

Gus put a hand up to Shawn's forehead. "Man, I think you have a fever."

"Oh, please." Shawn started towards the elevators again, feeling slightly nervous. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Fever, nausea. You keep grabbing your stomach, too. How bad is it hurting you?"

It hurts whenever I walk or breathe, Shawn thought. And it's gotten even worse during the past few hours. "The pain's sort of bad, alright? Nothing I can't fix with an ibuprofen though."

Shawn pushed the elevator button and tapped his foot while he waited for the doors to open.

"I promise that after we go up and take a quick look around, I'll tell Lassie, Jules and Dad what I think happened and we can leave. We can go to the hospital or wherever. But we need this case, so just give me five minutes, Gus. Come on."

Gus sighed and shook his head, but Shawn knew that he was going to give in. "You're rushing this. You've got a fever, you're in pain, you're not thinking clearly, and you're rushing this. This isn't going to turn out well."

The elevator pinged to announce its arrival and Shawn and Gus walked in when the doors opened. As they started to close again, Gus's eyes suddenly went wide.

"Um, Shawn?" he said nervously.

"Yeah?"

"Martin Price pretty much runs this place, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And during the robberies, the power in the building went out?"

"I still don't know where you're going with this."

"Well, if Martin is the one doing all the robberies, and he's the one who keeps shutting off the power, and he knows we were going to take the eleva…"

Gus's thought was cut short as the doors closed. They started heading up to their floor. Gus looked at Shawn nervously, and suddenly Shawn picked up on what he was saying.

"You don't think he'd shut this thing down just to stop us from telling everyone else about-"

The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, causing Shawn and Gus to grab for the rails on the sides, with Shawn also grabbing for his side with a groan. The lights went out and a dim, green emergency light came on in its place after a few seconds. The elevator was still and the doors stayed stubbornly shut.

"He turned it off on us," Gus muttered, disbelief and anxiety clear in his voice. "We're stuck."

"Huh." Shawn sagged back against the wall and carefully slid himself down. He pinched his eyes shut and exhaled when he hit the floor, clutching at his side. It didn't look like they were going home, or going anywhere for that matter, anytime soon.

"Whoops."

I need to give credit to Jenn1984, who was the one who originally suggested that I make Shawn stuck somewhere while he's sick to make things a little more complicated. xD

Reviews and comments are welcome!