The morning after the night before.

This chapter goes out to Nayah, who's reviewed every chapter so far! Thanks sweetie! Also special thanks to invisalite who gave me constructive crit! Now, I never get tired of hearing how awesome I am, but if you don't tell me where I'm going wrong, how can I fix it?



Lassiter woke up bright and early and went to unchain Shawn and take him to the bathroom. He went into the spare bedroom and was surprised at how vulnerable the man looked. His heart went out to him, before he could stop it.
He took a step forward, meaning to shake the other man awake, and then he noticed that Shawn's shirt had ridden up some time in the night. His stomach was bare, and there was a selection of multi-coloured bruising down his ribs.

"Spencer! What the hell happened to you?"

"Huh? Wha'? I don't wanna kiss the monkey!"

"Spencer! Wake up!" Lassiter shook the sleeping man's shoulder, fury rising within him. Who had hurt Spencer? The Psychic might be an annoying fraud and a cheat, but he was Lassiter's fraud and cheat.

"Lassie-face? You mean it wasn't a dream?" Spencer moaned as he regained consciousness.

"Spencer, what the hell? Your ribs look like a bad impressionist painting! What happened?" Shawn looked down at himself and shrugged, then wriggled so his shirt came back down.

"None of your beeswax, you nosy Parker. Why is it nosy Parker, anyway? Why not Nosy Nigel or Nosy Norman? Those work so much better. Now, hurry up and unchain me, I need to use the little Lassiter's room."

"I can honestly say I never envisioned you saying that." Lassiter said, shaking his head a little as though he had water in his ears.

"I can honestly say I never thought I'd be saying it." Shawn frowned as Lassiter unlocked the shackles and detached the handcuffs from the bed, but leaving his wrists chained together. "Lassie, what did you do with my phone?"

"It's in my room. Don't worry, you've had no calls." Lassiter told him.

Gus hadn't called him. The last time Gus hadn't called in this long.... oh. What day was it again? He had been a little overwhelmed with the last case, but if it was the day he thought it was....

"What date is it today?"

"The 6th." Lassiter pulled him upright and walked him to the bathroom. "Don't think you're getting out of talking."


As Shawn brushed his teeth on a thoughtfully provided spare brush, he considered his bad luck. Of all the days for Lassiter to abduct him. Gus was away for that week-long pharmaceutical convention. He never let Shawn know until the day before, and this time, he was so overwhelmed with the kid dying that he put it right out of his mind. That's good news at least. Gus isn't actually avoiding me or mad at me.

Lassiter sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. This was worst than he thought. Spencer was hurt. Physically hurt, not just emotionally. How had he not noticed this? He should just hand in his detectives badge. Shawn was depressed and he didn't see it. Shawn was injured, and he hadn't seen it. Shawn was not as shallow as the kiddie pool, and he hadn't realised. Oh, God. He'd dragged Spencer around. Held him down whilst he chained him up. What if he'd hurt him? What if he'd exacerbated his injuries? That was it. When the fake psychic came out of the bathroom, he was getting answers. For once, and for all.

"Shawn." Lassiter stood and stepped forward.

"Really Lassie, I like bondage as much as the next guy. It's funsies! But seriously, think we can lose the chains?"

"Shawn. Come and sit down."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I sit down, you're going to ask me a bunch of questions I can't answer, and get all pissy. Which would really not be the nicest way to spend a day. So, tell you what, you undo the chains and I'll just go. Just leave. You can't tell me that isn't tempting to you."

"Spencer, so help me, sit your ass down and listen."

"No."

"Sit!"

"Fine." He stamped over and sat down next to the Detective. He held out his hands to Lassiter. "Take off these handcuffs now."

"No. We're going to talk now. And then maybe we'll see."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"How did you get those bruises? That's a good place to start."

"Lassie. You don't want to know."

"Erm, yeah, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't be asking, would I Spencer?"

"You might."

"No, I wouldn't. How did you get hurt?"

"Why do you care? I thought we established that you hate me!"

"If I hated you, would I go to all this trouble to find out what's bothering you?"

"You might."

"Spencer..."

"Look, you really don't want to know."

"Was it... was it someone down at the station?"

"What? No."

"That was a lie if ever I heard one. Come on, Spencer, usually you've got better game than this!"

"This is a game to you? A game! I have bruises on my bruises and you're laughing at me?"

"Well, isn't that what you want? 'Oh, look at me, I'm so hilarious, and I'm psychic too, yoo hoo, look at me!' You never shut up!"

"What the hell are you... Oh, I see. I see where this is going. You want to make me mad. So I'll slip up, say something I'll regret."

"So, the bruises question isn't the right place to start? Oh well, I've narrowed it down to people at the station. How about we start with how you do what you do instead?"

"Lassie, come on."

"I think I have a right to know. Especially since I didn't turn you in on the spot."

"Lassie, come on!"

"Tell me." Lassiter folded his arms and met Shawn's eyes, blue into green. "You said the other night you had an eidetic memory."

"Okay. Fine. Yes, I have an eidetic memory. I was born with it. I can remember everything I see. It's not so great with things I hear."

"Your mother. She doesn't record her sessions."

"That's right, she has an eidetic tonal memory. Mine's like hers, but with things I see instead."

"Right. That makes sense, but that doesn't explain everything."

"Well, the rest is explained in 2 words. 'My Dad.' He was a cop, as you know. He trained me from when I was a little kid. He'd ask me to close my eyes and then tell him how many hats there were in a diner. Or he'd take some of my toys and ask me what was missing. Or we'd go camping and I'd have to evade my father for as long as possible, in the middle of the woods."

"Kicking out a tail light." Lassiter muttered, to himself.

"Evilkidnappersaywhat?'"

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"I said kicking out a tail light. Your dad, he said something about it when you were kidnapped."

"Ah, yes. One of my favourite lessons. He locked me in the trunk, a few times, until I could get out." Shawn grinned. "And I'm sure you appreciate my prowess with handcuffs."

"How old were you?"

"When he started training me? Three, I think."

"Sweet Lady Justice." Lassiter honestly wasn't sure whether he wanted to punch Henry Spencer or shake his hand. How could anyone do that to a kid? On the other hand, Spencer would be dead several times over if he hadn't been trained. Not to mention all the crimes that wouldn't have been solved. He now had a whole new perspective on the fake.


Aw, poor Shawnie! Now, where did those bruises come from? I have no clue, in fact I didn't even know they were there until his shirt rode up. That's why I said last chapter that this might be late, I had to solve the crime of who beat up Shawn before I could carry on writing.