Hey y'all! Surprised? I know I just put up a chapter last night, but I felt bad for making y'all wait so long for it. So, here it is. I wrote the main body of this chapter a while ago, but decided to sit on it until it fit better into the story. Anyway, here you go, loyal reader. A super long chapter to reward your loyalty.

Once they were inside the station, Juliet pulled her phone out and dialed a number. Eliot walked over to Xavier, who was sitting on a bench hugging his legs to his chest. Despite the circumstances, the corner of Eliot's mouth turned up slightly. Xavier was so much like Shawn. Seeing him sitting in the police station just made it more obvious. He may have gotten his mother's looks, but he was his dad's son through and through. Memories of visiting his Uncle Henry at the SBPD with Shawn when they were little came back.

Eliot sat on the bench beside him. Without a word, Xavier dropped his legs and leaned against Eliot, burring his face in Eliot's shirt. "Are they gonna find her?" he mumbled.

Eliot wrapped his arm around Xavier, "You know your mom and I would never let anything happen to her."

Xavier looked up at him and smiled, "That's what she said about you finding Dad."

"And it's still true."

Xavier nodded. Juliet came down the hall towards them, "I called Gus and told him what was going on."

"Is he coming?" Eliot asked, silently pleading that he wouldn't. Dealing with Gus right now would be as bad as, or worse than, dealing with Shawn in the same situation. Given the circumstances, he was not prepared to deal with Gus.

Juliet shook her head, "I convinced him to go home on the condition I would call him if anything happened."

Just then, the Chief walked over to them. Looking at Eliot, she said, "I hope you don't mind if we hold on to your phone."

Eliot did mind, a bit. That phone had some "sensitive" information on it. Smiling, he replied, "Actually, if it would be more helpful, I might be able to send the map to your computers, or another officer's phone."

The Chief nodded, "That would be great." She pointed to one of the desks, "Officer Peterson has your phone. You can send him the map, and he'll keep everyone on track."

Eliot nodded and walked over to the desk, "Hardison."

Hardison's sigh came over the comms, "I'm on it. Just get a map to the police without giving them anything to trace. Piece of cake."

The Chief turned back to Juliet, "Now-"

Juliet put her hand up, "Chief, with all do respect, you are not leaving me here. I am going to be out there looking for my daughter and husband along with everyone else."

The Chief smiled, "Alright. They're getting ready to head out." She nodded towards Xavier, "What about him?"

Juliet knelt down in front of Xavier, "If I leave you with Uncle Eliot, do you promise you'll listen to him?"

Xavier nodded, "Yes ma'am."

Juliet smiled and hugged him tightly. She kissed him on the forehead before following the Chief.

Three hours (and nineteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds) earlier:

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut. How did he always manage to do this? It wasn't as concerning as it had been the first time few times it happened. It also wasn't as amusing as it had been after it wasn't concerning. Now, it was really just annoying. Especially since this time he hadn't done anything. Or at least, he didn't think he had.

Barely cracking his eyes open, Shawn glanced around the room. He was in what appeared to be a small storage closet, which was odd since he was pretty sure they had driven to an abandoned warehouse. He didn't really see a reason for them to put him in a closet. Whatever. He was also tied to a chair. Things could be worse. They had been worse. Deciding it was better than worrying, Shawn decided to make a list of ways things could be worse, but weren't.

One: no one was currently holding a gun to his head.

Two: he wasn't beaten up. In fact, he wasn't hurt much at all other than where his head had been bleeding from being hit. It really wasn't that bad; it had already stopped bleeding. He wasn't bleeding because he was hit on the head; he was bleeding because he hit his head on the ground when he fell.

Three: he had a vague idea where he was. Was it enough to give directions? No. But it made him feel better to at least have an idea.

And finally, four: no one was here with him.

Having nothing else to add to the list, Shawn turned his attention to escaping from his current situation. His hands were tied behind him fairly securely. His legs were tied to the chair. There was hardly any room in the closet. In fact, if there was someone here with him, there would have just been enough room for both of them. There was a light in the ceiling, which his captors had been kind enough, or forgetful enough, to leave on. He supposed he could add not being left in the dark to his list.

The door to the closet was jerked open, and a gun was shoved in Shawn's face. Well, he could take that off the list. The man with the gun glared at him, "Alright, psychic, here's the deal, you're going to give us what we want, or we'll kill you."

"Whoa," Shawn did his best to pull away from the gun, "What makes you think I can give you what you want?"

The man pulled the gun away from Shawn, "Well, if you can't help us," he pointed the gun back at Shawn's head, "I may as well get rid of you now." Shawn gulped. "However," the man continued, "if you can help us, I'll let you live a little longer." He laughed, "Heck, I might not kill you at all!"

Shawn chewed on the inside of his cheek, "What do you want?"

The man (Shawn decided to call him Marvin. Marvin was a good bad guy name right?) leaned forward and put his gun against Shawn's temple, "I want you to tell me where the loot is."

"What loot? I can't exactly tell you where it is if I don't know what you're talking about. There could be lots of loot in Santa Barbara."

"I thought you were psychic," Marvin mocked him, "You should be able to figure out which one I want."

Shawn swallowed. Should he bluff, act tough, or just admit he was clueless. Never one to reveal that he was lost, Shawn decided to act tough, "Why should I tell you? Maybe it's in my best interest to keep quiet." He had intended to give Marvin a hard stare, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the gun.

Marvin pressed the gun even harder against Shawn's head, "I already told you, it's not. So, what I need you to do is 'see' where the loot is. Otherwise, it's 'bye bye, psychic'." Shawn paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get Marvin to give him some more information. Before he could, Marvin pulled back, "I'll give you some time. Maybe you can figure it out by then." Marvin backed out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Shawn groaned and leaned his head back. Dang was he in trouble. He had nothing to give these guys. He certainly wasn't going to figure out what was going on by sitting a room by himself. He had to get out of here. Sure, he could try and give some guesses, but he didn't like to think of what might happen if, correction, when, he guessed wrong. He wasn't sure they would kill him until they were certain they wouldn't be able to get anything out of him. Unfortunately, that meant there was a plethora of possibilities for how they might try to get the information out of him.

An hour passed, by Shawn's guess, in which Shawn was left to his own devices. He passed his time quoting every episode of MacGyver he had ever seen, though none of them provided any successful possibilities for escape, though he tried several. Feeling he had exhausted all escape attempts and had no way of gaining any more information than he already had, Shawn almost fell asleep. The sound of the door being unlocked, however, prevented this.

Marvin reappeared. This time, Shawn could see two guys standing behind him. Marvin grinned at Shawn, "Well, psychic, any new revelations?"

Shawn glared at him. He really didn't appreciate being mocked like this, "Actually yes. The spirits are telling me that you have some series manner issues. Might I suggest some anger management classes?"

That remark earned Shawn a harsh strike across his face. He couldn't help wincing. "Unless you have something useful to tell us, I suggest you keep your smart-alec comments to yourself."

Shawn moved his jaw around, trying to alleviate the pain. It wasn't anything serious, but that didn't mean it didn't sting.

Marvin watched him for a minute. Apparently coming to a conclusion, he jerked his head back at the two guys behind him, who shared a look and left. Grabbing Shawn's face and turning it so they were almost nose to nose, Marvin hissed, "I suggest you think real hard about saying no to me again. If you refuse to cooperate, I may have to resort to drastic measures." He let go of Shawn's head and left, locking the door behind him.

Shawn laid his head on his chest and closed his eyes. He was tired. He was trying his best to figure it out, but he decided that it would be better to just refuse to guess and take what was coming than to anger them by sending them on wild goose chases. He would take irritated Marvin over ticked off Marvin any day.

About an hour passed, maybe more. Shawn had now exhausted his eighties TV show quoting. He was only interrupted once when he thought he heard a car engine. He heard Marvin and someone talking, but it was too quiet for him to make out what they were saying. Marvin sounded really annoyed. Shortly after, Shawn heard the van leave again.

More time passed. Shawn was starting to consider singing all the eighties songs he knew, when a noise drew his attention. It sounded like the van had returned. Shawn looked up and opened his eyes. He strained his ears, listening for anything. He heard footsteps, one set sounding jerky and forced. After a second, the door was jerked open. Marvin's face smiled at Shawn, "Well, psychic, I gave you some more time. You got anything to say yet?" Shawn kept his mouth shut and his gaze fixed on his captor. Marvin shook his head in mock disappointment, "Well then, I suppose we'll have to resort to those other measures I mentioned. Let's start with a cellmate."

Marvin moved to the side and another person was shoved into the room. The door was locked behind them. Shawn looked down at his feet. The person on the floor was a young girl, her hands tied behind her back and her ankles bound. Shawn's heart leaped into his throat as he recognized her blue and green plaid button-up shirt and worn blue jeans. Please don't be her. Please don't be her. Shawn nudged the girl with his foot as best he could. She rolled over and groaned. Hazel eyes looked up at him, "Dad?"

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