Previously…

Dr. Mallow leaned over somewhat conspiratorially. "I do not need a detective. I need you. I understand you have an eidetic memory?"

The first session with Dr. Mallow on Friday afternoon, actually turned out to be really fun. Shawn rarely got to show off quite like this.

The Doc handed Shawn a water bottle. "That's probably enough for today, don't you think? I think we both need a break." And he laughed.

Shawn twisted off the top of the bottle and took a long drink of water while he thought about what Mallow had said.

Then he knew. "You… drugged… me…"

And the last thing he saw was Mallow smiling in a way that wasn't friendly at all.

oO0Oo
Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!
Chapter 2
oO0Oo

When Shawn awoke, he realized three things.

One, his head really hurt.

Two, he was tied, hand and foot, to a chair.

And three, no one had any idea where he was. For that matter, he didn't know where he was.

This really was not the best way to spend his time.

He was alone for the moment, though, so he put his 'gift' to use. He studied every inch of the room that was visible, but there was nothing that gave him any comfort.

The metal chair to which he was bound was bolted to the concrete floor with two thick bolts through each foot. No help there. The concrete floor stretched, unbroken except for a single drain set in its lowest point, for about five feet in every direction before it reached bare cinderblock walls. Well, the walls were almost bare. There were thick metal rings driven into the concrete at about waist height every three to four feet. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know what those were for.

There were no windows. Light came from two bare bulbs set into recesses in the ceiling. For all he knew he could be underground.

The ceiling was also concrete: concrete beams supporting concrete slabs. The single door appeared to be thick metal set into a heavy metal frame. There was a small, smooth metal panel where the door knob was supposed to be, which meant this particular door was never, ever intended to be opened from the inside.

This was so not good.

He made a fist in his frustration and felt an odd sensation on his wrist. He looked at it. "Huh, that's new," he commented, his voice strangely echo-y in the empty room.

He wasn't duct taped, as he'd automatically assumed. 'Getting sloppy, kid,' came Henry's voice, unbidden, as it always did when he was disappointed in himself. 'How'd you miss that one?'

Nor was he tied with rope, chains, or the ever popular zip ties.

There was a loop of something similar to razor wire encircling each of his wrists and the sturdy armrests of the metal chair. It was unlike razor wire because it didn't have the barbs, but it was very much like razor wire in that it was extremely sharp. It looked like a harmless, plain ribbon of metal less than a centimeter wide.

It was tight enough that the edge lay against his skin, but not quite tight enough to cut him – unless he moved.

When he'd clenched his fist, the wire had sliced easily through the cuff of his long sleeved shirt and had nicked his skin enough to bring a bead of blood. The 'odd feeling' had not been the usual pain of being cut but the unique cold-ish feeling that comes only when the knife is very, very sharp.

He stared at the small drop of blood, mesmerized. He was fairly certain that if he happened to yank his arm upward with enough force, he could cut his hand right off – or at least cut his arm to the bone.

'Mental note to self,' Shawn thought. 'Don't do that."

This was really not good.

Who was this guy?

What did he want?

oO0Oo

Gus walked into Psych over an hour late for the Friday night CHiPs marathon. Helping his parents paint had been more trying than he'd expected. He'd almost given up when, halfway through the second wall, his mom had decided to switch colors completely. But he'd taken a deep breath and started over.

He would've made it nearly on time for the marathon, but his mom had insisted that he stay for dinner. And she'd made her special brownies with the caramel ribbon for dessert to thank him for helping.

He'd stayed without a bit of concern for his buddy's feelings. After all, Gus knew Shawn would understand once he knew why his chocolate Ponch was late.

Plus he had a plate of said brownies balanced in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other, so he was pretty sure Shawn wouldn't be too mad.

Except Shawn wasn't there.

Gus frowned. Setting the brownies on top of some of the papers on his partner's desk, he looked around. He'd expected Shawn to have started without him, but maybe he'd gotten tired of waiting and left.

More likely his buddy had gotten a better offer.

But Jules was out of town…

Shawn had just stood him up? Gotten distracted by something?

Any of these options was possible.

Things had been a little different between them since Shawn and Jules had gotten back together – which was to be expected – but to just ignore a CHiPs marathon?

Snagging a brownie off the plate, Gus shrugged while he chewed. It certainly wasn't unprecedented for Shawn to just decide to do something else. Maybe his dad's project had gotten more involved than expected. Either way, Gus wasn't going to wait around – or chase Shawn down like he was desperate for companionship. They were both grown men with lives outside of Psych now. It was natural for a certain distance to develop.

At least, that's what he told himself as he walked out the door.

He left the brownies, though, just in case.

oO0Oo

"What do you want from me?" Shawn demanded. He couldn't get anything off this guy!

Mallow had entered the room about an hour after Shawn had woken. The doc had brought a chair with him, which he'd set against the wall and then sat on, crossing his legs elegantly. "Well, first I needed to know whether or not you had kept your ability from childhood. Without it, you would be of absolutely no use to me." He chuckled. "If you didn't have such an incredible memory, I would have made up some excuse to cancel and I would have let you go. But you demonstrated your abilities quite enthusiastically." He chuckled again but there was no real humor in it. "I bet you wish you hadn't been so excited about showing off, hmm? But now… What I would really like, Shawn, is for us to continue our game. There are a few more things I need to know before we can really get down to business."

He appeared ready to continue their session as if the situation had not changed; as if they were still sitting amicably in the office. He stood briefly, removed his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves before sitting back down. Shawn was surprised and distressed to note that what he had mistaken for stockiness was actually muscle. The guy might be small but he was powerful.

"I really am fascinated by your memory but I need to be sure that it's as good as you say. I'm not going to show you too many more pictures, though. Maybe a few later," he amended. "Right now, I want to go a little more historical." And he chuckled again - his laugh was really beginning to creep his prisoner out.

"Who are you?" Shawn demanded. "What do you want?"

Mallow looked surprised but unfazed. "I just told you." He frowned as if Shawn was suddenly a very slow pupil. "I want to continue our game." Then he glanced at Shawn's wrists and commented, "Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed, you're going to want to keep your hands quite still. Your feet too, if you hadn't guessed. You probably can't quite see it from your perspective, but you're already on your way to turning your jeans into cut-offs." And he laughed at his own joke.

"Why?" Shawn demanded again. He was searching his memory for something - anything about the man in front of him, but there was nothing - nothing about the face - nothing about the name...

"You'll see," was the only answer.

Producing a small recorder, Mallow pressed record and said, "Please list off the names of everyone in your kindergarten class."

"What? No!"

He really hadn't thought Mallow could move that quickly, but suddenly the man was up close and personal. And he was driving a fist into Shawn's gut.

A whoosh of air left him gasping, and he saw Mallow's eyes up close for an instant. He was frightened by what he saw for he saw only hate.

Why? What reason did this guy have to hate him?

"'m not going… to play your game," Shawn said when he'd gotten some breath back into his lungs.

Then the doctor straightened, hands on his hips, and scowled. "See what you did?"

But Shawn felt it before he saw it. As soon as he heard the question, his wrists and ankles began to burn and sting.

Shawn looked down and saw that the razor wire had made a deep cut across his left wrist and a shallower one across his right. Blood was running down the armrests of the chair. Thankfully his arms were not positioned for the type of cut that would make him look like a suicide.

From the way his legs felt, he could only guess that the wire around his ankles had done similar work.

"You idiot!" Mallow roared, before visibly struggling to control himself. "Next time… next time, you're going to want to hold tight to the arms of the chair."

Shawn raised his eyebrows at the 'next time.'

"When I hit you, your body wants to move, and you really must fight to keep your arms and legs still, Shawn." Getting himself back under control he grinned at his prisoner.

"Good one," Shawn responded, still somewhat breathless. "I always wondered what Gus meant when he said 'maniacal.' Now I know."

"And now, you'll remember. Because that's what you do. Isn't it, Shawn? You remember. Do you remember who did research on your memory in the past?" Mallow gathered up his recorder and moved to the door. "Do you?" he asked casually.

Shawn only frowned at him. That was the second time he'd asked about past research. "What research are you talking about?" he asked, exasperated.

"Hmm. Perhaps your memory isn't as good as you claim," he paused. "Or perhaps you need more incentive." Mallow considered him for a moment, and Shawn felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. But then the doctor made some kind of decision. "I think I'll let you ponder the lesson you learned here today. That's enough for now. Good night, Mr. Spencer."

And he left. Once the door was closed and Shawn heard the lock click, the room was plunged into inky blackness.

oO0Oo

When Gus strolled into the station Saturday morning, he greeted Buzz, and then wandered over to where Juliet was refilling her coffee cup. "Hey, Jules."

But Juliet was quite not her usual bright self. She seemed annoyed, although she tried to smile at him. "Have you seen Shawn?"

Gus frowned. "He was supposed to pick you up at the airport."

She scowled, annoyance returning. "Yes, but he never showed. I had to ride with Lassiter and Marlowe."

Gus raised his eyebrows in question. What was so bad about that?

She huffed out a breath and asked quietly. "Have you ever ridden in a car with still-fairly-newlyweds who have just been apart for the first time in their marriage?" She glanced at her partner to be sure he hadn't heard.

"Eew," Gus sympathized.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm happy for them – I am – but that was a little more than I really wanted to see," Juliet cringed. "Where is Shawn?" She looked at Gus, obviously expecting him to know.

Gus shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't?" She looked at him, puzzled, but now just a hint of concern was seeping in. She pulled out her phone and dialed. She listened and then shook her head. "Voicemail. Again. Gus…?"

It was Gus's turn to get concerned. "I was supposed to get together with him last night for a CHiPs marathon, but he never showed."

"He told me about that. He was really looking forward to it."

The two of them looked at each other. Was this something to worry about or not? Knowing Shawn, either he was off chasing some ridiculous whim or he'd gotten himself in real trouble. And one was just as likely as the other.

"Why are you two making eyes at each other?" Lassiter demanded, crabby that he'd had to come straight to work instead of going home to his wife.

There was a pause.

"Nothing," Juliet answered. "Gus and I are just going to run a quick errand. I'll be right back."

"If this has to do with Spencer…"

"I'll be right back," Juliet answered with a finality that prevented him from arguing. She then headed out to the parking lot with Gus.

Once they were out of Lassiter's earshot, Gus called Henry. "Is Shawn over at your house?"

"No, haven't seen him all week, why?"

"Wasn't he over there last night helping you with some project?"

There was a long pause. When Henry spoke, there was worry in his voice. "What's he gotten himself into now?"

"Probably nothing. Really!" Gus replied quickly, not wanting Shawn's dad to worry. "He just missed an appointment. An appointment early this morning."

"Oh. He's probably still asleep! Gus, you know as well as I do that if we worried every time Shawn missed an appointment, we'd be headed for an early grave… But… you'll let me know if there is anything to worry about, right?"

"Will do." Gus ended the call as confidently as possible but turned worried eyes toward Juliet.

She took a deep breath as she got into the Blueberry, Gus sliding behind the driver's seat. "Let's go look."

oO0Oo

How do you sleep when you are terrified to move your hands or feet more than a centimeter in any direction?

How do you sleep sitting up in a metal, straight-backed chair?

How do you sleep knowing you've been kidnapped by a crazy person and no one even realizes you're missing?

You don't.

These were among the things Shawn pondered during the long hours of the night. At least, he assumed it was night. It was certainly dark.

He really had no idea what time it was or how many hours had passed. But it felt like an eternity.

Finally – and without warning – the room was flooded with light. Actually, it was just the two dim bulbs in the ceiling, but after straining his eyes to see anything at all for so long, they felt like two brilliant floodlights.

The locks clicked and the door swung open, revealing a well-rested Dr. Mallow.

He smiled, returned to his chair, and pulled out the recorder from yesterday. Once again, he pressed record and spoke politely. "Good morning, Shawn. I trust you slept well." And again he laughed. This guy really cracked himself up. "Now, please list off the names of everyone in your kindergarten class."

Shawn stopped blinking at the lights and just stared at him. "Look-" he said tiredly, trying to reason with the man. "Why don't you just tell me what it is you really want to know? We're both reasonable men, here. Just tell me and maybe we can avoid all the theatrics?"

His efforts to talk his way out of this mess only got him a fist to the face. Mallow punched him so hard his head snapped back and he saw stars. His eyes filled with tears and his nose began to bleed.

"I make the demands, Mister Spencer." Mallow growled low. "Now." He said, sitting back down, he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Your Kindergarten class, please."

"Why… why would you possibly want to know that?" Unable to wipe at his nose, Shawn spit out a mouthful of blood.

"Oh, I don't... I couldn't care less. But I can check if you're right." Calm once again, he shrugged. "And it is very important that I know how much you remember from when you were that age. If you miss any – even one name – I will know and I will punish you. Now start."

"That's over a hundred kids."

Mallow just smiled. "One hundred forty-six to be exact – as I'm sure you remember. Now start."

Shawn stared at him. Well, talking was what he did best, and apparently as long as he was talking, Mallow wouldn't hurt him.

At least he had learned something: Whatever the doc wanted - it had something to do with him when he was five. He turned his memory in that direction. Plus, Gus would soon be noticing that something wasn't right and before he knew it, Lassie and Jules – his sweet Jules – would be breaking down that door, so he took a deep breath and began… slowly.

As stall tactics go, listing off one hundred forty-six names was not too shabby. "Gus… Jason… Dennis…"

"Uh, uh, ahh! Mr. Spencer." Mallow shook his finger under Shawn's swelling nose. "Full names and alphabetical order according to last names."

Shawn glared at him but took a deep breath and started over. "Eric Adel… Nathan Affleck – no relation to Ben… Maria Aguilar… Marianne Ajune… Jose Alvarez… Alex Brillian… Or do you want Alexander?"

"Alex is fine."

Shawn nodded warily, spit more of the blood that still flowed from his nose and swallowed. "Alex Brillian… Adele Bussow…"

Mallow sat and listened, recorder in hand, a satisfied smirk on his face.

oO0Oo

When Gus and Juliet arrived, having decided that Psych was the best place to start looking, Gus stood in the doorway asking himself one question: "If I was missing, what would Shawn do?"

Juliet was already walking around looking for any clue as to Shawn's whereabouts, but all she saw was the usual mess her boyfriend insisted on leaving in his wake. "Do you see anything odd? Anything out of place – or new? Anything missing?"

Gus nodded to himself and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Yep, that's what Shawn would be looking for – well, actually that's what Shawn would have seen the moment he walked in. It would take Gus a little longer. So he got to work.

But he didn't see anything. It bugged him to no end that he was absolutely certain Shawn would have found a clue by now – but of course, the one person they needed to solve this was also the one for whom they were looking.

He grabbed a brownie and ate it in frustration. They were only a little dry after sitting on Shawn's desk all night. He picked up the plate and held it out to Jules who nodded her thanks and took one – she'd missed breakfast on account of her early flight.

"There's probably nothing here," she mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate-caramel goodness and shrugged. "Maybe we should have gone to the house and made sure he wasn't still sleeping."

"Juliet, it's possible that he overslept, but Shawn's pretty much on top of anything that even remotely involves you." He said it so matter of factly that she blushed.

Gus looked away from her blush – he was only being honest – but then he saw something. When he'd lifted the plate, he'd uncovered something new – something odd. He frowned. Setting the plate down on his own desk and brushing crumbs off his fingers, he picked up a business card and a check that had been in the center of Shawn's desk underneath the plate of brownies.

"Huh. Here's something unusual."

Juliet came to look over his shoulder. "Dr. J.M. Mallow–"

"I bet the M stands for Marsh."

"–psychologist," Juliet continued reading, ignoring Gus's comment. "And a check for two hundred dollars." She looked at Gus. "Do you know who this is, or why he's paying Shawn two hundred dollars? Did you get a new case?"

Gus shook his head. "Never heard of him. And I don't think Shawn would take a case without telling me, but – come to think of it – Shawn did say he had an 'appointment…' I wonder if this is what he was talking about."

"Well, there's an address here. Let's check it out."

"When do we tell Lassiter?"

"When we have something to tell," Juliet shrugged as they left to check out the address on the card.

oO0Oo

"John Zadler… Amy Zeehn… and Jennifer Zuldernatcher. There. That's it."

He'd managed to stall for what had to be well over fifteen minutes, and that was pretty good in his estimation.

Mallow leaned in. "Yes, Shawn, that was very good. At least I think it was. I will check, and then I will be back."

He stood and moved towards the door. "I have a few other things to check on, too. Have to be sure your friends don't suspect anything, because if they do… Well, that just wouldn't be acceptable." Pausing at the open door, he turned and looked at his prisoner darkly. "Oh, and Shawn, remember… You still haven't answered my question."

Then he was gone.

Shawn was left frowning after him. What question? Who had 'studied' him? What had happened when he was five? He was pretty sure that other than his dad constantly testing him, no one had ever put him under a microscope like this.

And what would Mallow do when he realized there was no answer to his question?

TBC…